LRPs were all volunteers. They were in the spine-tingling, brain-twisting, nerve-wracking business of Long Range Patrolling. They varied in age from eighteen to thirty. These men operated in precision movements, like walking through a jungle quietly and being able to tell whether a man or an animal is moving through the brush without seeing the cause of movement. They could sit in an ambush for hours without moving a muscle except to ease the safety off the automatic weapon in their hand at the first sign of trouble. These men were good because they had to be to survive.
Called LRPs for short, they were despised, respected, admired, and sometimes thought to be a little short on brains by those who watched from the sidelines as a team started out on another mission to seek out the enemy. They were men who can take a baby or small child in their arms and make them stop crying. They shared their last smoke, last ration of food, last canteen of water. They were kind in some ways, deadly in others. They were men who believed in their country, freedom, and fellow men. They were a new kind of soldier in a new type of warfare.
LRPs stand out in a crowd of soldiers. It's not just their tiger fatigues but the way they walk, talk, and stand. They were proud warriors because they were members of the Long Range Patrol.
