Henry Dobbins carries the M60 machine gun, extra ammunition, canned peaches (which he's very fond of) and his girlfriend's pantyhose. The simplicity of his load, compared to the other men, is commented upon in the sense that it reflects upon his character; he's a big, simple guy, like America itself, a "believer in the system". Between the machine gun, the peaches and the pantyhose, he has everything he needs; tools, comfort food, and magic.

The pantyhose is what draws the most attention;

It was his one eccentricity. The pantyhose, he said, had the properties

of a good-luck charm. He liked putting his nose into the nylon and

breathing in the scent of his girlfriend's body; he liked the memories this

inspired; he sometimes slept with the stockings up against his face, the

way an infant sleeps with a flannel blanket, secure and peaceful. More

than anything, though, the stockings were a talisman for him. They kept

him safe. They gave access to a spiritual world, where things were soft

and intimate, a place where he might someday take his girlfriend to live.

Like many of us in Vietnam, Dobbins felt the pull of superstition, and he

believed firmly and absolutely in the protective power of the stockings.