Anonymous
7/26/2025, 1:23:25 AM No.213091970
Jon Bernthal?
Yeah I know him by that name. Hell, I worked with him in Nam. Back then we called him "Gook Gutting" Bernthal because he never came out of a tunnel without a scalp, an ear, or covered with blood.
Most would call him insane, but that is why the green berets trained him. They saw potential. It wasn't until they learned his methods that they truly realized what a monster they created.
You see, most guys that go tunnel clearing take guns. Not Jon. No, he took knives, clubs, hatchets, sometimes nothing but his bare hands. After a few missions I got a chance to talk to him in the mess. He was wearing his blood stained hat, sunglasses, and combat fatigues, smoking a cigarette and drinking johnny walker black. It was contraband, but you NEVER told Jon what he could and couldn't do.
I asked him why he never took guns with him. He lowered is head and took a long slow draw from his hand rolled cig, pulled off his sun glasses and looked me right in the eyes, piercing my soul.
"I do it out of respect. Respect for the white race. These slant eye'd scum bags don't deserve the mercy of an American made bullet, but the slow torturous death of the hands of an American man!"
In a flash he pulled out his weathered, but razor sharp knife and stopped just short of sticking my gut. "The look in their eyes when I slip this baby into their swollen, rice filled bellies is reason enough. To see the last lights flick off in their heads as they see a real killer work"
Yeah I know him by that name. Hell, I worked with him in Nam. Back then we called him "Gook Gutting" Bernthal because he never came out of a tunnel without a scalp, an ear, or covered with blood.
Most would call him insane, but that is why the green berets trained him. They saw potential. It wasn't until they learned his methods that they truly realized what a monster they created.
You see, most guys that go tunnel clearing take guns. Not Jon. No, he took knives, clubs, hatchets, sometimes nothing but his bare hands. After a few missions I got a chance to talk to him in the mess. He was wearing his blood stained hat, sunglasses, and combat fatigues, smoking a cigarette and drinking johnny walker black. It was contraband, but you NEVER told Jon what he could and couldn't do.
I asked him why he never took guns with him. He lowered is head and took a long slow draw from his hand rolled cig, pulled off his sun glasses and looked me right in the eyes, piercing my soul.
"I do it out of respect. Respect for the white race. These slant eye'd scum bags don't deserve the mercy of an American made bullet, but the slow torturous death of the hands of an American man!"
In a flash he pulled out his weathered, but razor sharp knife and stopped just short of sticking my gut. "The look in their eyes when I slip this baby into their swollen, rice filled bellies is reason enough. To see the last lights flick off in their heads as they see a real killer work"
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