I've gone "camping" in my 13 ton full tracked aluminum self propelled M113 "caravan". Some of the places I've stayed at had names that growled, some that chattered, and some sort of sang. By the light of a string of drifting flares casting waves of yellowish white light dancing against the forbidding dark recesses of (classified) where (classified) little bastards were sending me gifts of streaks of green tracer balancing the drift of little red balls of out going tracers, accompanied by the sounds of thump-wishhhh...or the reverse which was cause for much dancing and shouting with panic and fear.... Ahh the good old days...

Gordon