No, you just have to leave out My Lai, pungee sticks, rat meat, evil, sadistic vietnamese officers played by chinese-american or japanese-american character actors, John Wayne, David Janssen, Marc Singer, Marc Singer's hair, Burt Lancaster's whithered white butt, and any real mention to the idea that the VC were Rambo-superninjas who could alter space-time, turn invisible, or cobble together instantly-lethal boobytraps out of bird puke and banana leaves with an ubermenscheian ingenuity that would make MacGuyver look like a permanent rider on the Short Bus. You need to tell Dylan McDermott that your production is going to be colder than Calgary so he stays the hell away. You need to tell your writers that when a claymore fails to completely perforate Mr. Victor Charlie it's got to be explained that it wasn't planted properly by the terrified FNG that was sent out to set it... and then there has to be a reasonable explanation why in God's name one would trust Mr. FNG to do that job in the first place. Finally, talk to the vets and find out from them what it was like, and then, instead of a non-stop-roller-coaster-composite of a hundred vets' experiences, figure out a SINGLE plausible storyline that does not attempt to encapsulate, memorialize, sentimentalize, or explain the entire damn war. Finally, you need to take aside all those other fine ladies and gentlemen that have ALREADY been in Vietnam War Movies, and tell them politely that their talents are not required this time around.
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