The General’s Hootch
Joe Everett. Joe Everett.
You spelled his name like... Joe Everett.
But. Everybody said his name like... Jo-wevrit.
And everybody agreed. Times with Jo-wevrit just had a way of ending up badly. Usually for him.
But. He had a way of getting the goo all over everybody.
It is January of 1971. I am on a mail run from Quang Tri, down to 1st Marine Division Headquarters in Da Nang. I get there early in the afternoon.
I complete all the Captain’s errands most rickey-tickey. That's ‘Jarhead’ for expeditiously. My plan is to have enough time left in the day to hit the NCO Club.
The Club is near the transient barracks. This is where guys like me, in for a day, or people getting reassigned or going on R&R, stay for brief periods.
I have always been my own best company. I sit outside. Alone
in a bamboo-shaded corner. Exulting in the rare quiet. A beer.
And the indirect warmth of the sunshine.
I toss around ideas about what I might do for the evening. The chopper is not due to depart, with me on it, until 1300 tomorrow. Plenty of time to do the Lord’s work.
I decide to let the night’s proceedings reveal themselves.
Satisfied, I amble back into the bar for a rerun on the beer. The abrupt change from bright sunlight to dim interior momentarily disorients me.
That. And a very loud... very insistent... southern soaked...
“Yep. Gol-damn! That’s Jimmy Mac. Hey Jimmy Mac. Over here!”
I search the room through visual burlap.
I know the voice.
Things come into focus.
Oh no.
It's him.
Perennial Private.
Jo-wevrit.
With a three day stubble and non-military, wild red hair, tousled from days of inattention. He smells like the vent on a still.
Jo-wevrit.
Same beady blue eyes peeking like a crook through a curtain. A smirk for a smile.
“Well, Gol-damn. Man. Jimmy Mac!”
He offers his hand but I instinctively draw back.
His old trick was to pull you forward.
He smirks.
I toss around ideas about what I might do for the evening. The chopper is not due to depart, with me on it, until 1300 tomorrow. Plenty of time to do the Lord’s work.
I decide to let the night’s proceedings reveal themselves.
Satisfied, I amble back into the bar for a rerun on the beer. The abrupt change from bright sunlight to dim interior momentarily disorients me.
That. And a very loud... very insistent... southern soaked...
“Yep. Gol-damn! That’s Jimmy Mac. Hey Jimmy Mac. Over here!”
I search the room through visual burlap.
I know the voice.
Things come into focus.
Oh no.
It's him.
Perennial Private.
Jo-wevrit.
With a three day stubble and non-military, wild red hair, tousled from days of inattention. He smells like the vent on a still.
Jo-wevrit.
Same beady blue eyes peeking like a crook through a curtain. A smirk for a smile.
“Well, Gol-damn. Man. Jimmy Mac!”
He offers his hand but I instinctively draw back.
His old trick was to pull you forward.
He smirks.
“Well. Dang. Jimmy Mac. I never figured I'd see you again."
He sizes me up. Sidewise.
"Uh. Let alone talk to you."
He laughs.
"Man. You sure was pissed at me.
Then he has the balls to say. "Remember?”
Did I ever.
It started innocently enough.
One night. On our way home from Greenville, we made a late night piss stop in an open field.
The field was full of nightlife. And. Most of all.
Singing tree frogs.
“Shoot. I 'member like it was yesterday. I run on back to the car and got them shoppin’ bags. From the beer at the beach. Then we went round scoopin'em all up. Them bags was full of ‘em noisy critters in no time flat.”
His body wiggles as he laughs.
He sizes me up. Sidewise.
"Uh. Let alone talk to you."
He laughs.
"Man. You sure was pissed at me.
Then he has the balls to say. "Remember?”
Did I ever.
It started innocently enough.
One night. On our way home from Greenville, we made a late night piss stop in an open field.
The field was full of nightlife. And. Most of all.
Singing tree frogs.
“Shoot. I 'member like it was yesterday. I run on back to the car and got them shoppin’ bags. From the beer at the beach. Then we went round scoopin'em all up. Them bags was full of ‘em noisy critters in no time flat.”
His body wiggles as he laughs.
“Hoo-eee. It was great when we got on back to the barracks and just
kinda. You know. Let ’em all LOOSE!”
“You neglect to mention it was the middle of the night.”
He slaps his knee.
“Best part. Man. That was funnier’n all get-out.”
“Yeah. Right. Well. Look, Jo-wevrit. I gotta go."
He looks dumbstruck.
"I’m kind of... you know... ALLERGIC... to you.”
Jo-wevrit aims a toothsome grin at me.
“Holy smokes. Jimmy Mac. Forgive'n forget. Know what I mean?”
“Yep. ALLERGIC!”
He wasn’t a bad guy. And he wasn't stupid. He just didn’t give a shit.
“I’ll tell you what, Jo-wevrit. We were lucky we didn’t get killed that night.”
Jo-wevrit laughs, cleaning his shades on his shirt tail.
“You neglect to mention it was the middle of the night.”
He slaps his knee.
“Best part. Man. That was funnier’n all get-out.”
“Yeah. Right. Well. Look, Jo-wevrit. I gotta go."
He looks dumbstruck.
"I’m kind of... you know... ALLERGIC... to you.”
Jo-wevrit aims a toothsome grin at me.
“Holy smokes. Jimmy Mac. Forgive'n forget. Know what I mean?”
“Yep. ALLERGIC!”
He wasn’t a bad guy. And he wasn't stupid. He just didn’t give a shit.
“I’ll tell you what, Jo-wevrit. We were lucky we didn’t get killed that night.”
Jo-wevrit laughs, cleaning his shades on his shirt tail.
“Well. Ya might be right there. Jimmy Mac."
"If he’d a known... ol' Sgt. Repka would’a ripped off our heads. And pissed down the tubes. That ol’ boy was HOT!”
“Jo-wevrit... EVERYBODY... was hot!”
He rubs his scraggly chin.
“Cain’t say I ever figured things’d come out like that.”
His grin fades momentarily.
“Well. I never did really. You know. Think it through all that much. Just figured it’d be. Kind’a. You know. FUNNY.”
He chugs some beer and belches.
“Man. We was like drunks on stilts. 'Specially carrying 'em bags of frogs. But we was real good an' sneaky. On how we come int'a the barracks from both ends."
It was pretty funny.
"Yeah, Jo-wevrit. I gotta say. We had a shitload of them little
rubber-footed fuckers!”
Seeing me get into it, Jo-wevrit claps his hands.
“We was right quick 'bout it. An'... ZAM. They skoodled off EVERYWHERE."
"Man, I don't know how we got away with it. I yanked off my shoes and made a beeline for my rack. Quiet as I could, I stripped to
my skivvies and just eased in."
"Yup. Me too."
I shook my head remembering.
"And man. Less than a minute later. The whole place. Goes absolutely fucking sideways! All MILLION of them high pitched little screamers, started going at it. All at once.
“Meep-eep-eep-eep... meeep-eep-eeep..."
"... MEEEP-EEP-EEEP-EEEP-EEEP. MEEEEEP-EEEP-EEEP.”
Jo-wevrit eyes and mouth are wide open. His stare is fixed.
"But then. That was when the REAL fireworks began. Jimmy Mac."
Sergeant Repka was a hard-ass coal miner from Pennsylvania.
Definitely not known for his sense of humor.
He stands in the middle of the barracks.
"Yup. Me too."
I shook my head remembering.
"And man. Less than a minute later. The whole place. Goes absolutely fucking sideways! All MILLION of them high pitched little screamers, started going at it. All at once.
“Meep-eep-eep-eep... meeep-eep-eeep..."
"... MEEEP-EEP-EEEP-EEEP-EEEP. MEEEEEP-EEEP-EEEP.”
Jo-wevrit eyes and mouth are wide open. His stare is fixed.
"But then. That was when the REAL fireworks began. Jimmy Mac."
Sergeant Repka was a hard-ass coal miner from Pennsylvania.
Definitely not known for his sense of humor.
He stands in the middle of the barracks.
“FROGS!”
“WHAT... are... freakin' FROGS... doing in MY squad bay!”
“FROGS... SHUT UP!!”
And. Just like that. All the frogs shut up.
People settle back into their racks. Bitching and moaning.
Lights out.
Until. Seconds later.
“MEEEP-EEP-EEP-EEEP-EEEP-EEEP ..."
And for endless days and nights to follow.
"... meeep-eep-eep-eeep-eeep-eeep."
“Man. Jo-wevrit. It took forever to get rid of them. Some were stuck behind the mirror in the head for a week."
“...and Jimmy Mac. How ‘bout how we couldn’t figure out where that SMELL was coming from?"
“Oh god. That drove people CRAZY!”
He hoots.
"Was a couple ‘em fellers gettin' barbee-cued inside that light globe.”
“WHAT... are... freakin' FROGS... doing in MY squad bay!”
“FROGS... SHUT UP!!”
And. Just like that. All the frogs shut up.
People settle back into their racks. Bitching and moaning.
Lights out.
Until. Seconds later.
“MEEEP-EEP-EEP-EEEP-EEEP-EEEP ..."
And for endless days and nights to follow.
"... meeep-eep-eep-eeep-eeep-eeep."
“Man. Jo-wevrit. It took forever to get rid of them. Some were stuck behind the mirror in the head for a week."
“...and Jimmy Mac. How ‘bout how we couldn’t figure out where that SMELL was coming from?"
“Oh god. That drove people CRAZY!”
He hoots.
"Was a couple ‘em fellers gettin' barbee-cued inside that light globe.”
Our bartender brings some happy-hour ribs and a couple more beers.
I wave a rib at Jo-wevrit.
“Jo-wevrit. You know. You know why I wouldn’t speak to you after we got Captain’s Mast?”
He knew.
“Why. Just a week later, after things had pretty well blown over.
Did you freakin’... tell people at the beer bust we did it!”
Jo-wevrit shrugs.
“You KNEW the captain would hear you. He was no more than five feet away from you. That was all it took. He HATED you!”
“Well. I know. Guess I couldn’t help m’self. I jus' love to mess with officers. ALL officers."
Smirk.
"I’m a Private. What do I care!”
"Well, you ratted me out too."
He stares into his beer.
"Well. Uh. Guess that never crossed my mind."
He was starting to get on my nerves.
“Jo-wevrit. Since you’re a Private. What are you doing here in the NCO Club?”
“Uh. Well. Jimmy Mac. I got high friends in low places."
He takes another sip. Still not looking at me.
Then. He brightens up.
"Besides. It don’t matter none. I done my job here. Fightin' wise. I’m fixin’ to rotate back to the World right soon.”
I had heard from somebody that Jo-wevrit had seen a lot of combat. Said he was pretty bad-ass. I guess he was a shit-bird. Until it mattered most.
I had my fill of the NCO bar. And him. I told him I was ready to follow my night in a different direction.
He ignored that.
“C’mon Jimmy Mac. Let’s have another beer. I got an idea.”
He tells me about a restaurant he knows outside the base. Just happens to have a massage parlor upstairs.
Next thing you know... we’re riding into Da Nang City in the back of a scooter with a kind of an open shell you sit into.
It was dark.
The light drizzle on my face felt refreshing.
Oh no.
I had to admit it. Jo-wevrit could be a hoot.
The scooter drops us off in a poorly lit alley. We head for one of the three or four ramshackle buildings there.
We enter a restaurant with greasy beads in the doorway. He orders for the both of us.
The food soon arrives steaming and entirely unrecognizable.
Resting his spoon in the god-knows-what, Jo-wevrit looks at me. He seems oddly serious.
“You ever had a girl. Walk on your back?”
“Huh...!”
“You know. They got these li'l ol’ gals, see. Give a great massage. Then they walk on your back. Some'r even CUTE.”
“Let’s go on and check it out. Upstairs. When we’re done.”
“Uh... okay. I guess.”
It was not the religious experience he promised.
We had separate rooms. A woman in black pajamas came into mine. She had a dried corona of beetlenut juice around her lips and brown stains on her teeth. She had to be in her sixties.
She held up a bottle of lotion. And pointing at my groin, made a universally known hand gesture.
“You like... you like?”
Jo-wevrit’s words downstairs at the table came back to me.
“... oh yeah... and for a couple extra bucks... you can get a ‘steam and cream’. If you know what I mean.”
I took one look at her and wordlessly waved my hand. This made her instantly angry.
“WHAT! You no want? NO. You come here. You PAY!"
“I don’t want ANYTHING. I’m leaving!”
Suddenly, my beetlenut would-be masseuse fishes inside her bag.
I see the gleam of a blade.
Hopping around. I struggle to get my pants on. The thin walls make no secret of Jo-wevrit’s happy satisfied customer status in the next room.
I yell to Jo-wevrit to tighten it up. Things are getting ugly.
Meanwhile. Pajama woman starts coming at me. Using her motion I pull her toward and past me. I wheel around her and run down the hall.
Behind me. I hear Jo-wevrit clomping down the stairs, a couple steps at a time. He bangs into me. Pushing me and an armful of greasy beads into the street.
We each head in a different direction.
“... oh yeah... and for a couple extra bucks... you can get a ‘steam and cream’. If you know what I mean.”
I took one look at her and wordlessly waved my hand. This made her instantly angry.
“WHAT! You no want? NO. You come here. You PAY!"
“I don’t want ANYTHING. I’m leaving!”
Suddenly, my beetlenut would-be masseuse fishes inside her bag.
I see the gleam of a blade.
Hopping around. I struggle to get my pants on. The thin walls make no secret of Jo-wevrit’s happy satisfied customer status in the next room.
I yell to Jo-wevrit to tighten it up. Things are getting ugly.
Meanwhile. Pajama woman starts coming at me. Using her motion I pull her toward and past me. I wheel around her and run down the hall.
Behind me. I hear Jo-wevrit clomping down the stairs, a couple steps at a time. He bangs into me. Pushing me and an armful of greasy beads into the street.
We each head in a different direction.
Two people follow me.
I run down the street and take a quick leap into a stench-filled alley.
They run past.
The bleak alley feeds into a street next to the morgue. I dart behind some vile-smelling vats. I'm sure I ditched them.
I grab a scooter back to the base and head over to the NCO Club.
Somewhere around ten. Plenty of night left. I head for the Pool Room. Glad to be rid of Jo-wevrit.
I play a game of pool with some guys heading to Australia for R&R in the morning. I lose and buy them a round. Soon they peel off.
From the bar, Jo-wevrit’s distinctive twanging tones once again drill into my consciousness.
He’s coming right at me.
“Dang. Jimmy Mac. I thought you was a goner. That one guy got tired of followin’ me right quick. So I doubled back lookin' round for you."
He cups his hand to his mouth.
"Had to be kinda quiet, ya know. Cain’t jus' go run roun' yellin’ somebody’s name or nothin'.”
He is suddenly transfixed.
“Well. Look. Jimmy Mac. This is perfect."
He looks at me intently.
"We jus' been through a harrowin' experience. We gotta go get us a bottle’a Jack Daniels. Go somewheres."
He stares directly into my eyes.
"Now's when ya gotta... FILOS-O-FIZE."
He folds his arms over his chest.
"Do ya good."
“No. Jo-wevrit. I’ll pass.”
“Now. Jimmy Mac. You gotta learn ta', you know. Ree-lax.”
I shake me head.
"No."
“Look. Here’s how we figure this out. See. I’m gonna flip you."
He pulls out a quarter.
"Heads. You'n me stare down a bottle of JD."
Smirk.
"Tails. You’re on your own. Good enough?”
“Ah. Geez. Christ. Sure. Fine. Make it two outta three.”
He wins two in a row.
We sit outside in the moonlight. The chill air awakens me. I have achieved the happy status of wide-awake drunk.
We swig on the Jack and trade thoughts.
“Jo-wevrit. Did you ever think of putting that very crazy. Creative. Mind of yours. To better use?”
“Shoot. Jimmy Mac. I’m... ALREADY... a song writer."
He snorts.
"Man. Jimmy Mac. I made me some GOOD money. Was the end'a last year. Betsy Pulver and The Canyon City Blossoms took my song, Nose Prints On My Window, to the top of the Country Music charts."
He looks off. Somewhere else.
“... wrote that song just after I got here. Thinkin’ about Emeline. She come by. Day 'fore I left. Tol' me she’d be gone by time I get home.”
He starts humming.
"Song goes..."
I got nose prints on my window. And tears... on my windowsill.
I cain’t be-lieve... you walked away. And I guess... I never will.
He wins two in a row.
We sit outside in the moonlight. The chill air awakens me. I have achieved the happy status of wide-awake drunk.
We swig on the Jack and trade thoughts.
“Jo-wevrit. Did you ever think of putting that very crazy. Creative. Mind of yours. To better use?”
“Shoot. Jimmy Mac. I’m... ALREADY... a song writer."
He snorts.
"Man. Jimmy Mac. I made me some GOOD money. Was the end'a last year. Betsy Pulver and The Canyon City Blossoms took my song, Nose Prints On My Window, to the top of the Country Music charts."
He looks off. Somewhere else.
“... wrote that song just after I got here. Thinkin’ about Emeline. She come by. Day 'fore I left. Tol' me she’d be gone by time I get home.”
He starts humming.
"Song goes..."
I got nose prints on my window. And tears... on my windowsill.
I cain’t be-lieve... you walked away. And I guess... I never will.
He had a decent singing voice.
He shakes his head, like he's awakening from a dream.
“So. Bag it man."
Huge grin.
"Going home. Gettin’ out."
"Got me some bucks. Gonna buy me a Harley."
He makes a motion like a plane taking off.
"An'... OFF... I... GO!"
Things turn quiet. Swigging JD. Filos-o-fizin’ over.
Our perch is on a bit of a rise. On a hill behind the barracks. Below us a rutted dirt road winds to the top of the hill.
I wonder out loud.
“Hey man. Where's this road go? What's on top of this hill?”
Jo-wevrit swivels toward me.
“Shoot. Man. You don’t know!”
He shakes his head, like he's awakening from a dream.
“So. Bag it man."
Huge grin.
"Going home. Gettin’ out."
"Got me some bucks. Gonna buy me a Harley."
He makes a motion like a plane taking off.
"An'... OFF... I... GO!"
Things turn quiet. Swigging JD. Filos-o-fizin’ over.
Our perch is on a bit of a rise. On a hill behind the barracks. Below us a rutted dirt road winds to the top of the hill.
I wonder out loud.
“Hey man. Where's this road go? What's on top of this hill?”
Jo-wevrit swivels toward me.
“Shoot. Man. You don’t know!”
I give him a vacant look.
Smirk.
“Why son. That's where the GEN'RAL lives!”
“No shit. Jo-wevrit?”
“No shit.”
Quiet. I look at the stars.
Suddenly. Jo-wevrit comes alive.
“Jimmy Mac. I got me... ANOTHER... GREAT... IDEA!”
“Oh No. Whaddya mean...?”
He raises his bushy red eyebrows.
“Hey. Man. You figure the Gen'ral’s got. You know. A tin roof ?
I can feel it coming. Another... REALLY BAD... idea.
Smirk.
“Why son. That's where the GEN'RAL lives!”
“No shit. Jo-wevrit?”
“No shit.”
Quiet. I look at the stars.
Suddenly. Jo-wevrit comes alive.
“Jimmy Mac. I got me... ANOTHER... GREAT... IDEA!”
“Oh No. Whaddya mean...?”
He raises his bushy red eyebrows.
“Hey. Man. You figure the Gen'ral’s got. You know. A tin roof ?
I can feel it coming. Another... REALLY BAD... idea.
I mean. Every buildin’ here... got a tin roof. Right?”
Jo-wevrit’s eyes glaze over in ecstasy.
“Think about it. Jimmy Mac. You'n me."
He makes an exaggerated throwing motion.
"Bouncin' freakin' rocks. Off’n a GEN'RAL's... tin...freakin’... roof!!!
It's useless.
“Sure. Let’s finish the bottle first.”
We do some reconnoitering. The hill spirals up. Past the enlisted area. Into Officers’ Country. Then to the General’s compound.
We sneak up to where the lights of the officers quarters are off to our left. One obstacle becomes immediately clear. Hung from a low slung yard arm, a light bulb shines. Way too bright. It is inside a large glass globe. A curved metal ring sits atop the globe like a green metal hat.
“Gonna take out that light. Front th' officers head.”
Jo-wevrit takes off without waiting for a response.
“Jo-wevrit. That’s ridiculous. Don’t even tr...”
Too late.
Jo-wevrit is there in a flash. He finds a hefty stick. Then. In front of God. And Everybody. He WHACKS the living shit out of the light.
And the metal hat goes... "Paa-WAAAAANNGGG...!!"
Unbelievably, the light remains lit.
He whacks it AGAIN. "PAA-WAAAAANNGGG...!!"
It disintegrates.
I whisper-yell.
“Jo-wevrit. Get your ass outta there.”
But he’s already back.
“Be cool. Jimmy Mac. Be cool.”
We move on quickly. We can see the outlines of the compound. It is UP the hill. We go UP the hill.
We stop.
From here the switchbacks provide a pretty fair bead on the place.
Side by side. We start chucking stones, but we don’t hear ANYTHING like a tin roof.
In fact. We don’t hear anything at all.
“We gotta get a might closer."
Jo-wevrit crouches.
"We gonna haft'a...Triangulate. Jimmy Mac.”
“Sure, Jo-wevrit. If two people can triangulate.”
Jo-wevrit, not distracted by minor details, draws in the dirt.
“I’ll be here. Yonder tree line."
He points.
"Where the road bends."
He draws a circle.
"You'll be here. Base of the hill. Good chuck ought'a clear that fence."
He darts away. At the treeline, Jo-wevrit motions to start throwing. And disappears around the bend.
I start letting loose from my arsenal. Feels like some good
tosses.
No proof. Of course.
I really get into it. Pouring them in. I forget all about Jo-wevrit.
Until.
I realize. It's really quiet.
I call out.
“Jo-wevrit...!”
NOTHING.
“Hey. Jo-wevrit. Over here!”
Nothing again.
Suddenly. I can... feel... something behind me.
Oddly calm, a voice intones.
“Jo-wevrit can’t come here right now.”
“He’s UNDER ARREST.”
“And SO... are YOU!”
No proof. Of course.
I really get into it. Pouring them in. I forget all about Jo-wevrit.
Until.
I realize. It's really quiet.
I call out.
“Jo-wevrit...!”
NOTHING.
“Hey. Jo-wevrit. Over here!”
Nothing again.
Suddenly. I can... feel... something behind me.
Oddly calm, a voice intones.
“Jo-wevrit can’t come here right now.”
“He’s UNDER ARREST.”
“And SO... are YOU!”
In a wink, two massive MP’s come out of nowhere. They toss
me on the ground. In seconds, I am straddled and handcuffed. Nose in the dirt, I can half-see Jo-wevrit struggling between two
other brig chasers.
They toss him on the ground next to me.
The Voice is a Full Bird Colonel. He informs us he runs the local brig. He is the head of the PMO. The Provost Marshall’s Office. The Military Cops.
Dragged to our feet. Locked at rigid attention. We find ourselves staring into the eyes of the seething Colonel.
And probably a fair stretch in prison.
“Gentlemen. FIRST. Let me tell you. How very LUCKY. You are. That WE got to you first. All that ruckus you gentlemen caused. You came... THIS close... to being SHOT!”
“Vietnamese Regulars. For reasons that entirely evade me. Provide the CG’s perimeter security.”
He gets right in Jo-wevrit's face.
“Meaning. You men were about to be shot... then found out what they hit... victims.”
They toss him on the ground next to me.
The Voice is a Full Bird Colonel. He informs us he runs the local brig. He is the head of the PMO. The Provost Marshall’s Office. The Military Cops.
Dragged to our feet. Locked at rigid attention. We find ourselves staring into the eyes of the seething Colonel.
And probably a fair stretch in prison.
“Gentlemen. FIRST. Let me tell you. How very LUCKY. You are. That WE got to you first. All that ruckus you gentlemen caused. You came... THIS close... to being SHOT!”
“Vietnamese Regulars. For reasons that entirely evade me. Provide the CG’s perimeter security.”
He gets right in Jo-wevrit's face.
“Meaning. You men were about to be shot... then found out what they hit... victims.”
He takes a step back.
“And gentlemen."
He shakes his head.
"Prime rule of war. Never attack... UP HILL.”
“You two are about the stupidest people I have ever arrested. And certainly the NOISIEST. Pulverizing that light. REALLY!!”
He seems to search for words.
“To be blunt. I'd like to see you both hang by your thumbs!"
He turns and mutters something, then spins back around.
"But gentlemen."
He chokes.
"You have an... INORDINATE... amount of good luck today. The General is down in Vung Tau."
He spits.
"RESTING!”
He pokes me in the chest.
"It would NOT be good. For... ANYBODY... were the General to find out about your dumb little caper.”
“And gentlemen."
He shakes his head.
"Prime rule of war. Never attack... UP HILL.”
“You two are about the stupidest people I have ever arrested. And certainly the NOISIEST. Pulverizing that light. REALLY!!”
He seems to search for words.
“To be blunt. I'd like to see you both hang by your thumbs!"
He turns and mutters something, then spins back around.
"But gentlemen."
He chokes.
"You have an... INORDINATE... amount of good luck today. The General is down in Vung Tau."
He spits.
"RESTING!”
He pokes me in the chest.
"It would NOT be good. For... ANYBODY... were the General to find out about your dumb little caper.”
“You will spend the night in the brig. In the morning you will be
sent to your units."
Crimson. He screws up his face.
"I can assure you. This is NOT over for you boys."
We spend the night in separate cells. I get out just in time to catch my chopper.
The pilot says to report to the Captain when we land.
Ours is a tight, even-keeled unit. Fifteen men or so. For the most part, we enjoy a close relationship with our officers.
But. This time. I am in a world of shit. I curse Jo-wevrit.
I enter the Ops bunker.
I snap to attention in front of the Captain. Prepared for the worst.
The Captain gets out of his chair. He leans forward. Hands on the edge on his desk. Hard to read his face.
Crimson. He screws up his face.
"I can assure you. This is NOT over for you boys."
We spend the night in separate cells. I get out just in time to catch my chopper.
The pilot says to report to the Captain when we land.
Ours is a tight, even-keeled unit. Fifteen men or so. For the most part, we enjoy a close relationship with our officers.
But. This time. I am in a world of shit. I curse Jo-wevrit.
I enter the Ops bunker.
I snap to attention in front of the Captain. Prepared for the worst.
The Captain gets out of his chair. He leans forward. Hands on the edge on his desk. Hard to read his face.
He drills me with his eyes.
“McCormick. Did you REALLY... spend the night in the brig...?"
He cocks his head.
"For HARRASSING... THE... FUCKING... GENERAL!!!”
I manage a stammer.
“Well. Uh. Yes. Sir.”
Cringe.
“I... I... DID.”
But then.
He doesn't go into a tirade.
Instead.
He laughs.
“Son. That’s about the goddam dummest. But goddam FUNNIEST. Thing I’ve heard in some time.”
It tickles him good. He can barely catch his breath.
“Now..."
He waves his hand.
"Get the fuck outta here!”
“McCormick. Did you REALLY... spend the night in the brig...?"
He cocks his head.
"For HARRASSING... THE... FUCKING... GENERAL!!!”
I manage a stammer.
“Well. Uh. Yes. Sir.”
Cringe.
“I... I... DID.”
But then.
He doesn't go into a tirade.
Instead.
He laughs.
“Son. That’s about the goddam dummest. But goddam FUNNIEST. Thing I’ve heard in some time.”
It tickles him good. He can barely catch his breath.
“Now..."
He waves his hand.
"Get the fuck outta here!”
Half way through a boot camp perfect about-face, six words hit the back of my head.
“McCormick. You can forget about Sergeant.”
Jo-wevrit. Of course. Got it worse.
Thirty days hard labor.
But.
As usual. He had a trick up his sleeve.
He paid somebody to ‘lose’ his paperwork and he rotated back home.
Jo-wevrit. Got discharged. Got on his Harley.
And WENT.
7-4-16 jmc
“McCormick. You can forget about Sergeant.”
Jo-wevrit. Of course. Got it worse.
Thirty days hard labor.
But.
As usual. He had a trick up his sleeve.
He paid somebody to ‘lose’ his paperwork and he rotated back home.
Jo-wevrit. Got discharged. Got on his Harley.
And WENT.
7-4-16 jmc
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