Proper Attire

Early December, 1969, was a particularly rough time to be in a war. Back home the folks were getting over Thanksgiving and getting ready for Christmas.
Delta Co had a few firefights so we set up for a time to resupply and let our mail catch up with us. We named our camp LZ Fruitcake, due to the number of those we received. Helicopters dropped duffles of clean fatigues,almost as worn out as the ones we were wearing, but clean. No boots were delivered, so my buddy, Ceasario, had to tie his soles on with wire. Mostly we needed ammunition and thousands of rounds were dropped. Many of the cartridges were bent, dented, and rusty, so we cleaned and sorted and started a pile of stuff to be destroyed when we moved on.
Bags of mail, particularly Christmas packages, were brought in by the dozens. Mom sent me a box of Christmas ornaments. I don't know why. Despite the necessity of traveling as light as possible, I carried those ornaments until we reached our fire base where we used them to decorate a  latrine. Other guys received a variety of gifts, some actually useful, like survival knives.
One guy, Marlon, received a smoking jacket. It was of a shiny soft material, brown, paisley. We all tried it on. When we rotated for guard duty, the guy on watch got to wear the smoking jacket. Marlon wore it on patrol. He often walked point, and it was strange to see him, so nattily dressed, pass our observation post in the jungle, followed by about six grunts in ragged jungle fatigues.
Finally we were ready to walk out. We place all less useful things in to piles, stuff that would explode and stuff that wouldn't. We exploded the ordinance and set the other pile on fire. As the fire grew larger, we threw more useless stuff in. The last item to go on the pyre was Marlon's smoking jacket. A collective groan was heard in the Central Highlands on that day.