Wolff and his mate, Sergeant Benet, trade these souvenirs with US troops to improve their material comforts and to get otherwise unobtainable equipment to improve their base. Their wages were too low to live on because it was assumed they'd be stealing, so they stole. They were punished for losing men in battle, therefore they avoided battle. The resolute imperial will was all played out here at the empire's fringe, lost in rancour and mud. I prepared a face for the sniper to judge, not a brave or confident face but not a fearful one either.
Yanks look alike, a neat reversal of the normal racist cliche.
Another example of the cultural abyss between the allies emerges when Wolff observes a couple of Vietnamese soldiers catching and tying up a puppy. In order to save the mutt from a culinary grave he pays up the inflated price of about five dollars, confirming his sentimentality in the eyes of the Vietnamese. His squeamish gesture of weakness earns him further mockery, and when his tour of duty is over the Vietnamese officers concoct a farewell dinner with a macabre twist to further make the point that certain sensitivities are incompatible with a war situation. He interrupts the chronology to juxtapose his situation in Vietnam with episodes from his training and 'previous life' with others who may care for him but cannot understand what he is living through. A stunning example from near the half-way point is the chapter entitled 'A Federal Offence', about the days immediately before his departure for Vietnam.