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The sound of the chopper that just dropped you at the landing zone is gone already and all you hear now is your own breath and the branches crushing under your feet. Mosquitos penetrate your neck as you make your way through the thick jungle that opens in front of you. The oppressive wet heat forces tears of sweat down your face. You look over your shoulder to make sure that your comrades keep up with you and your view remains a short moment on the machine gunner and the pig in his hands.
