The things they carried were largely determined by necessity. Among the necessities or near-necessities were P-38 can openers, pocket knives, heat tabs, wrist watches, dog tags, mosquito repellent, chewing gum, candy, cigarettes, salt tablets, packets of Kool-Aid, lighters, matches, sewing kits, Military payment Certificates, C rations, and two or three canteens of water. Together, these items weighed between fifteen and twenty pounds, depending upon a man's habits or rate of metabolism. Henry Dobbins, who was a big man, carried extra rations; he was especially fond of canned peaches in heavy syrup over pound cake. Dave Jensen, who practiced field hygiene, carried a toothbrush, dental floss, and several hotel-size bars of soap he'd stolen on R&R in Sydney, Australia. Ted Lavender, who was scared, carried tranquilizers until he was shot in the head outside the village of Than Khe in mid-April. By necessity, and because it was SOP, they all carried steel helmets that weighed five pounds including the liner aid camouflage cover. They carried the stand ard fatigue jackets and trousers. Very few carried underwear. On their feet they carried jungle boots-2.1 pounds - and Dave Jensen carried three pairs of socks and a can of Dr. Scholl's foot powder as a precaution against trench foot. Until he was shot, Ted Lavender carried six or seven ounces of premium dope, which for him was 2 necessity. Mitchell Sanders, the RT0, carried condoms. Norman Bowker carried a diary. Rat Kiley carried comic books. Kiowa, a devout Baptist, Carried an illustrated New Testament that had been presented to him by his father, who taught Sunday school in Oklahoma City, Oklahoma. As a hedge against bad times, however, Kiowa also carried his grandmother's distrust of the white man, his grandfather's old hunting hatchet. Necessity dictated. Because the land was mined and booby-trapped, it was SOP for each man to carry a steel-centered, nylon-covered flak jacket, which weighed 6.7 pounds, but which on hot days seemed much heavier. Because you could die so quickly, each man carried at least one large compress bandage, usually in the helmet band for easy access. Because the nights were cold, and because the monsoons were wet, each carried a green plastic poncho that could be used as a raincoat or groundsheet or makeshift tent. With its quilted liner, the poncho weighed almost two pounds, but it was worth every ounce. In April, for instance, when Ted Lavender was shot, they used his poncho to wrap him up, then to carry him across the paddy, then to lift him into the chopper that took him away.
Every war seems to take on its own artistic identity. World War I is thought of mainly through the poets: John McCrae; Siegfried Sassoon; Wilfred Owen. By the Second World War novelists had taken up the torch -- Norman Mailer; Joseph Heller; Kurt Vonnegut. The only connection most people have with Korea is the film M*A*S*H, but that was also inspired by a series of books by Richard Hooker. By Vietnam, though, the focus was very much cinematic, as befitted the "Living Room War": Apocalypse Now; Hamburger Hill; and Oliver (ick) Stone's Platoon.
There was good writing to come out of Vietnam, though. Some of the best is by former infantryman Tim (Going After Cacciato) O'Brien. His The Things They Carried achieves a poetic intensity in its cataloging of the common and prosaic. I'd never read the complete book, just some chapters published in Esquire.
While Googling around for some quotes from it, I came across the entire text here. (It's not an official site, judging by the number of typos, just something put up by someone who really liked the book.)
Update: Oops. That wasn't the complete work. Just an excerpt.