When I arrived in-country Vietnam, we were outfitted with helmet liner and steel pot. For a reason never explained to me, my steel pot was a bit too small for my helmet liner. It sat slightly above the liner, with a gap at the top.
Before my tour was extended in Vietnam, I was scheduled to rotate back to the States on July 10, 1969. In late June, I was assigned with another guy to sweep a small field. We were both short timers and agreed that the sweep was bullshit and we'd just lie down in the tall grass for a few hours, then go back to base camp and report that we'd seen nothing.
After a few hours of quietly b.s.ing, I said to the other guy. "Let's eat." He was supposed to bring the rations. A blank stare and "I forgot to bring 'em."
I was pissed, but to be fair, we agreed to play rock, paper, scissors. Loser trudges back to get the rations. I lost, stood up, and felt my head snap back. An AK round had pierced my steel pot and was in the space between my helmet liner and the pot. I shook my head and it rattled. I hit the ground fast. The other guy was shaking uncontrollably and teeth chattering. I almost laughed, but then asked, "What the f**k are you shaking about? I just got shot in my MFing head." He looked at me and said with a trembling voice, "I'm about six inches taller than you." We forgot about eating, stayed low, and after a couple more hours damn near crawled all the way back to camp.