Flies in the Ammo Shack

(A Vietnam Conflict story about Flies, 1971)

It was a sizzling afternoon within the ammo dump, contained in the ammo shack-consisting of two rooms, partitions made out of plywood, flooring or inlays of lengthy wood boards-flat timber for essentially the most half, you possibly can see by way of their cracks, positioned crooked alongside each other; additionally the shack was a smite lopsided, nearly wobbly, and really damaged. Planted on 4 by 4 beams beneath the floorboards, a couple of half foot excessive, amongst the delicate white sand that surrounded it, giving a playground for the lizards to interact in recreation, unnoticed.

I carried a semi outdated ‘Stars and Strips,’ journal with me once I needed to go to the 17 wsm ammo shack (the place us troopers did our paperwork for allocations and distributing of ammunition to the convoys arriving from a number of places throughout the neighborhood.

I carried that outdated ‘Stars and Strips,’ journal for a month, till a brand new one got here out, and used it to swish away flies. They had been all over the place within the ammo shack-we had been infested with them, with their buzzing round as if we had been invaders: fats and skinny bellied information; some darkish others mild shads of darkish, lengthy and brief winged flies, biting your arms and face, and ears, behind your neck, swarming round you, sneaking up your shirt sleeves, diving into your eyes as in the event that they had been small punishing missiles, educated by the Vietcong to bother you.-me, us!

There have been lifeless or dying flies, additionally strolling flies on all of the three desks throughout the two rooms of the shack, filling the ambiance with putrid particles, aiming in the direction of one’s mouth, however fairly content material in the event that they missed, and easily landed in your lips. They contaminated all the pieces, clinging, and climbing, and even some crawling, of their quickest gait potential, particularly the large fats bellied ones, they’d attempt to get away however I might swat them, sadly leaving a dumpy-bloody mess, I actually tried to easily scare them away, however like I stated before-or implied, they had been already brained washed and able to sacrifice their lives for the trigger.

I waited patiently these lengthy sizzling days for the solar to go down, so I might get the hell out of there and get again to base camp and get drunk, and neglect these nasty pests!

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