Picture this, you just got your trusty Herc, stuck in the mud beside a lake in bonefuk Bolivia. Mother MAC wants you to hang around for question & answer time. Why not, billeting is a cot that the army has to spare. You and the crew stick them under the wing and start taking stock. Got a nice lake near by and on day three a swim seems in order, at least they waited until after to mention about the Prianhas. And every night the Bolivian SF ( their M-1s held together with black electrical tape) would sing in spanish Ghost Riders in the Sky. MREs and a hot meal flown in by DC-3 working for the DEA. Oh but life was good.