HOME | POLITICS | SPORTS | LIFE | SCI/TECH | OPEDS | HELPFUL TIPS
|
July 12, 2004 Here's a chapter from my just released humorous Vietnam Memoir-"The Saigon Zoo: Vietnam's Other War; Sex, Drugs, Rock 'n Roll. This deals with the first day of my transfer from living in Saigon to Long Binh, the largest military base in Vietnam.Check out my web site for pictures from those days. www.SaigonZoo.com Chapter XX The Night Has a Thousand Eyes (Bobby Vee, 1963) After the shock wore off, Dave and I quickly unpacked our duffle bags and took a walk around the company area to survey just how bad our situation really was. Of course, Dave was much more optimistic than me. We decided to first check on the other guys. Schrunk wanted to see their rooms, but I just needed to talk to someone who appreciated my negative attitude and cynical commentary. For the most part, the majority of us were still extremely bitter about being kept in Vietnam. The eight of us decided that the next day, after our orientation, we would explore the surrounding area in hopes of finding an upside to our depressing new residence. I knew there had to be more to Long Binh than the shit-hole Schrunk and I would be living in. Physically exhausted and mentally fatigued, Dave and I turned out the lights fairly early. I was praying that a good night’s sleep would somehow brighten my mood. However, that night, for the first time since being in Vietnam, I would experience the “horrors of war.” I was just about to doze off when I felt something crawling on the side of my face. I pulled the string dangling from the light above me just in time to see a giant cockroach scurry under a gap between the floor and the wall. “Ahhhhhhhh, shit!” I screamed. “What the Hell are you doin’, Whalon?” Dave asked as he tried to adjust his eyes to the sudden light. I was on my feet, boot in hand, looking for the monster that had tread on my face. I was prepared to crush the life out of him (or her) with my size-9, Army-issue, jungle- fatigue combat boot. “Did you see that filthy creature run under the wall?” I asked Dave, horrified. “It was like ten inches long, I shit you not. It was a giant cockroach, and I mean giant! God, I hate roaches; they make my skin crawl. That sucker was on my face—oh man.” I was now on my hands and knees, with my boot raised above the creature’s escape crack, waiting for him to peak his flat head out. Dave began laughing and calling me names. “You sissy, Whalon. One bug and you freak like a baby,” Dave needled. “Go back to sleep—it’s groovy.” Dave had been intentionally overusing the word “groovy” ever since I had called him Gidget earlier in the day. “Hey, I saw mosquito nets in that box; put one over your head to protect you from Roachzilla. Go to sleep, Pete. I’ll protect you, you little crybaby.” Dave was still laughing at me as he lay back down and turned away from the light. I opened the box and pulled out a net, checking it closely for any of my attacker’s relatives. I knew these things traveled in large, creeping packs. I got back in bed, covered my entire body with the net, scanned the room for intruders, and then shut off the light. A few minutes later, I felt something moving across the net covering my legs. He’s back! I thought. I sat up and quickly switched on the light, hoping to catch the bug off guard and turn the creature into a brown stain on the cement floor. “Ahhhhhhhhhh, Ahhhh, no, shit!” My blood- curdling squeal sent Dave leaping out of his bed. On the net covering my body, about twenty- five roaches were crawling, searching for a way under my protective cover. The floor was thick with the repulsive creepy-crawly pests, scurrying back and forth. Peering down from the gaps between the walls and the roof were another fifty or so invaders surveying the action below, checking to see if reinforcements were needed. We were under full attack—“Code Red.” When Dave finally realized that our compound was being overrun, he bolted out the door. “Ahhhhhhhhh, Ahhhhhh.” Schrunk’s high-pitched scream pierced my ears. I was right behind him, trying desperately to breathe through my long- time malfunctioning nose. I feared that if my mouth were open, one or more of the roaches might somehow crawl in! We dashed out of the hooch, across the large gravel rocks surrounding the building and into the street. Unfortunately, our feet were bare and the rocks beneath them were rough with sharp, jagged edges. For the first time that night, we synchronized our screams. We were now standing in the street, 20 yards from our hooch. It was so dark I couldn’t make out Dave’s face which was only a foot from mine. The only visible light was the one bulb hanging in the hallway of our wretched new home, Hooch 9. We gingerly ambled back across the rocks, using the hallway light as our beacon. Arriving, I glanced at the soles of my feet. Both soles were bleeding. Dave’s feet were also bloody yet there we stood for a time—two fools huddled in the narrow hallway, wearing only our boxer shorts. Our feet continued to ooze blood and soon began to bloat. I couldn’t believe that the two of us were homeless because we had been driven from our room by a hoard of filthy, mindless cockroaches. We started to talk aimlessly to calm our nerves. “Shut your damn mouths or I’ll shut ’em for ya, ass-holes—damn cherry fags!” a voice cried out. Somebody was trying to sleep in one of the nearby rooms. I pointed outside. Dave and I, using the asphalt path this time, delicately and painfully limped down to the showers below Hooch 10 to discuss our predicament. On the way, I looked skyward and silently asked my creator: “What are you doing to me?” It was pitch-black outside, my feet were aching, and I was exhausted. I also had the creepy, uneasy sensation of bugs crawling on my skin. “What’s the matter, tough guy?—afraid of a few tiny roaches?” I mocked Dave. “You shot outta that room like Jesse Owens, man. Schrunk, just go back and put the net over your head. You’ll be okay, Dave.” I loved mocking people. “Shit! Whatta we do now, Einstein? There were like ten thousand of those suckers in there—I’m not goin’ back in that bug-ridden hole. Where are we gonna sleep, Professor Schrunk? I’m dead tired but I ain’t goin’ back to that infested room—ahhhh, is there a roach on my back?” I limped to one of the showers and began washing off the blood on my feet and checking the damage. I sat down on the floor to get a better look at the soles of my feet and sat on a puddle of what I hoped was only water. Now it looked like I had taken a massive piss in my boxers. “Great—just great,” I whined. “I’m gonna go roll in a pile of dog shit to finish the job— unbelievable!” I was losing it fast. It was times like these when it was very handy to have a “steady hand” like Dave Schrunk around. “Let’s go to the dayroom,” Dave advised. “There are a couple sofas inside. We can sleep on them tonight. Tomorrow we’ll figure out how to get rid of the roaches. It’s cool, Pete—it’s okay.” Schrunk had always been an excellent problem- solver. No matter how hard I drilled Schrunk with my acerbic words, he was always there when I needed help. I benevolently decided to grant Dave a forty-eight hour, self-imposed ban on any sarcastic comments directed toward him. Besides, I could use the time to get a firmer grip on my sanity. I wondered if Schrunk would tell anybody if I began to cry. Every company had a dayroom equipped with magazines, board games and a ping pong table for the troops to use during their off time. Staying at ours sounded like a good plan to me. I needed sleep badly. I refused to return to the room and get my boots. I knew the creatures would be waiting, with their little antennas twitching, to finish the job. Dave, seizing his opportunity for heroism, darted in, grabbed our boots and shirts, and darted out. We quietly sat down in the hallway and laced up our boots. God, I was a wimp sometimes. As we walked toward the dayroom, which was located above the mess hall, I complained to Dave, “Can you believe this shit? I saw one cockroach in Saigon—one! There must have been thousands in our room tonight. God, I hate those creepy things. And they were giant, like in the movie Them—the giant ants, ever see that one, Schrunk? How come the rats and roaches are so damn gigantic in this country and the people are so damn tiny? God, I hate this place.” I tried to open the door to the dayroom then turned grimacing at Schrunk. “I don’t believe this shit! Dave, it’s locked,” I reported. I pounded the door with my fist. “What now, Sherlock?” I muttered. It sure hadn’t taken me long to break my forty-eight hour oath. Dave was not sympathetic to my mood. “Damn Whalon, you’re actin’ like a baby. Get your shit together. I saw a chapel around the corner from the PX on our way in. Churches always stay open. Let’s go sleep in the pews.” Dave was on a roll tonight. I made another mental note to lighten up on Schrunk in the future, although I knew I wouldn’t follow through. He was as frustrated as me but was handling the offensive much better. I had to hand it to Dave; he had come up with another great idea. I decided to quit acting like a little bitch and help us get through the night together. “Sounds good to me,” I said, trying to project a cheerful mood. “Tomorrow, let’s get some sheets and cardboard and make that room air tight—roach proof. How do these other dudes sleep at night with those giant cock-suckers crawlin’ all over them? I swear to God—I would give my right arm (I was left-handed) and three toes to be back in Hawaii right now, gulping down an ice-cold Colt 45 on the beach and talkin’ shit to some brain- dead blond in a bikini. Between the roaches and that fat-assed Sergeant Lloyd, I ain’t gonna make it through this shit.” Feeling sorry for myself had drained what little energy I still had. “Cockroaches Pete, not cock-suckers,” Dave corrected me, laughing. I’m not sure if it was my lack of sleep or my appreciation of Dave’s solution to our problem, but I did something I rarely did—I laughed at one of Dave’s lame jokes. Even when Dave was funny, I tried not to give him the satisfaction of a laugh. I made another promise to myself that I would always laugh at Dave’s jokes in the future, whether they were funny or not. The church was open with no one inside. I quickly circled the interior of the building looking for possible openings for an attack. The construction of the church was far superior to our hut. The walls were solid from floor to ceiling. I curled up on a bench and silently recited the Lord’s Prayer. “Thanks Dave,” I said sincerely after finishing my invocation. “Let’s not mention this to the other guys, okay?” Steadfast Dave was already sleeping and beginning to snore. I grabbed a book of hymns for my pillow, closed my eyes, and strained to conjure up images of a sunny summer day on the sand near Second Street in Hermosa Beach, California. ------------ About the author: Pete Whalon recently published his first book— “The Saigon Zoo: Vietnam’s Other War; Sex, Drugs, Rock ‘n Roll.” It’s a humorous memoir of his 22 months as an Army Private in Vietnam, 1969-71. Check out his web site: www.SaigonZoo.com The 1st chapter is on the site for your reading pleasure! Email: kinoman7@aol.com Tell a friend about this site! ------------ |
||||||
|
|
|||||||
|
