Hazardous Waste

My post was a concrete culvert that went under the perimeter road, it was a great place to conceal yourself and escape shrapnel from mortars and rockets. The culvert was wide enough for me to crawl through though I'm a big man. In place inside the culvert, I stacked two sand bags close to my face so I could shoot from a prone position. The culvert faced a trail the guards used to access a tower and bunker out by the wire. I assumed the gooks would come down the trail not struggle in the thick bush. I made myself comfortable and waited.

I was inside the culvert an hour or so when I heard a helicopter coming my way. It was one of the new Cobra gunships with rocket pods and a gatling-style machine gun. The pilot switched on his search light and turned my area into day time. Two gooks were illuminated but spread apart to dodge the machine gun fire. I aimed and shot one of them. His companion took off like a scalded dog. The gunship went after him. My gook was dead.

Pretty soon a jeep with a master sergeant came along to see what was up with me. The sergeant took my M16 and asked me,

"How many rounds did you fire?"

"One."

He then fired two more shots from it.

"Didn't they tell you to fire three rounds when you kill a gook?"

The air force had a chicken shit policy that required all sentries to verbally challenge gooks and fire two warning shots before shooting to kill. In practice we killed with the first shot and fired the warning shots afterwards. Some rear echelon mother faggot invented the policy. But the experience made me think about the need to conceal facts in noise no one could examine. The faggot had his three shell cases and no idea which was fired first or last. I was home free.

Nuthin much happened after that. We got ground attacks about once a month, and mortar attacks on the darkest nights.

You got used to the violence. More than once I ate a C rations meal while sitting close to a pile of dead bodies ready for shipment to some fucking place for counting and disposal.

The air force and the army shared the girls who sold pussy from the bars in Dodge City. Dodge City was a stretch of dirt road outside our main gate. It was prolyl one quarter mile of bars and brothels lining both sides of the road. The air force fucked the girls during the daytime, and the army took over at night. The officers fucked the Red Cross girls on the base. Many of us fucked the mama-sans who took care of our barracks.

My first collision with the very different culture was the second day I was there. I went in our latrine to pee, and the place was fulla women doing laundry. The women didn't care we were naked unless they saw a package that impressed them. Then you might get a proposition from one who wanted you to souvenir her some cock.

Coming back to the world was like dying and going to heaven. I didn't see one ugly woman the whole time I was back, prolly a week. The air force sent me to Europe where I fucked my brains out for over two years. Many bars had brothels, and the girls liked to fuck. I fucked girls from everywhere.

Then my enlistment expired and the air force sent me home to Salt Springs where I enrolled at the Salt Springs State College.

More of that next time.