Simple America

Me and the kids will never forget Hurricane Rita. The big one that missed us. But for a few days it closed schools and jobs. Made us abandon our home and flee away from the coast. For a few days we imposed upon Flametoad’s home. We will always be thankful to him and Mrs. Flametoad for taking us in. Also thankful that my missus could make the drive from Detroit to Toronto for the weekend, since flying home would have not been possible.

For the sake of memory I have been reading those posts from last year. Here are the posts that came from that time. Before the Storm I, Before the Storm II, Before the Storm III, Before the Storm IV, Before the Storm V, The Storm Missed Us and Home Again. I Like to Be Here When I Can. Give them a read if you have the time.

Amazing how much has happened since then. I reread those comments and most of those bloggers still visit me today. A couple have disappeared and I wish them well. Some don’t post as often as back then but that is how life goes. Wonder what will happen over the next year? No more hurricanes though. Just too much to deal with.

Tuesday morning. Running late to work. The world is normal. The radio is tuned to a local talk show station, politics and traffic. Wishing all the cars on the Southwest Freeway would part and allow me through.

Then a news break interrupts the show. A plane has crashed into one of the towers of the World Trade Center. I’m thinking what a tragic accident. Wondering if NYC was fogged over, though I had no knowledge of their weather patterns. Thinking the plane’s radar should have picked up the building. Plane must have had some major problems.

Traffic moves no quicker and I’m going to be late. Nothing new. Then another plane strikes the other tower. And then I knew the world was changed and it could only be for the worse. I can believe there is a chance for one plane to collide with a building. But two is far too coincidental. I recalled a Tom Clancy book titled, Debt of Honor. At the end of this story a suicidal pilot crashes a jetliner into the Capital, while the president is addressing the Congress.

I drove on. No need to stop for coffee or donuts. The desire for both have fled. Then another report on the radio. Now the Pentagon has been struck. I look toward downtown as I wind along Shepherd near Buffalo Bayou. i see no aircraft heading toward our skyscrapers.

A few minutes later I park in my spot at Coffer Corporation. I run across the street and drop my lunch and daytimer on my desk. I go next door and ask the clerk if she will turn on her TV? She has no clue what’s happening. I tell her the news and she turns on her little black and white TV. Smoke spews from the World Trade Center. Looking like the pollution vomiting out of the factories of 19th Century America.

We watch shots of people fleeing the towers. I wonder how many people could be inside those buildings. They both can hold tens of thousands of people. People that dropped the kids off at school or daycare. Scratched the family dog behind the ears before rushing to catch a train to the city and the prospects of a day’s hard work. My boss comes and no one thinks of work or financial statements. Some things are bigger than work. This is definitely one of them.’

Then the situation became even more horrid. Debris is constantly falling from the towers. But then a closer picture reveals that some of the debris is human and my stomach knots. Once again the thought comes back. Who would do this? My gut instinct leads me to think of muslim terrorists. After all they tried to destroy one of the towers before. But I did not want to judge too quickly, as thoughts of Oklahoma City also stayed close to mind.

And then one of the towers collapsed. No more sturdy than a house of cards. Steel turned to toothpicks in the heat of burning jet fuel. The thought of those deaths floored me. And then the other building went down. I returned to my desk and started researching news. Trying to catch the early reports. I had to know more of what was going on.

Then I thought about the kids and my missus in Detroit that day. I called the school to see how things were. Asked the secretary if I should pick the kids up early, but they said the day was proceeding normally over there. So I let them stay in class. I called the missus and talked with her. We wondered when she could return home. Air traffic became grounded pretty quickly. Nothing we could control. Just have to wait and see.

The days passed. The missus came home. The kids school continued. We learned of Osama Bin Laden and his hatred for American and the freedom to choose religion. President Bush came out talking tough and his actions were tough too. The Taliban in Afganistan fell shortly afterwards. Then Saddam Hussein was defeated in Iraq. Things seemed on the up. For a few days the politicians seemed to forget about politics. Americans were just, Americans.

Now it is five years later and peace in Iraq is brutal. Suicide bombers and IEDs kill indiscrimantely, Coalition Forces and Iraqis alike. We care more about appeasing the media and pacifistic countries that are scared to fight, rather than seeking the enemies of freedom and killing them. And thats what should be done to them. They should be found and killed. They are not soldiers representing a nation, but criminals hijacking a religion to force their own agenda. If they represent a nation would that nation be so bold as to announce itself. And then we could afford these thugs the status of prisoners of war. We could also invade that nation and step on the snake’s head and end all of this hositility.

But what saddens me the most is that Americans have forgotten 911. They sit idly by allowing their representatives in the Congress to politicize the war and endanger all of us. Problem is the same people that protested the war in Viet Nam are now working in the federal government and they seek to hurt the President no matter how much it might also hurt the American citizenry. I’m tired of dissension in the ranks.

What happened to the anti-sedition laws of this country? Has the American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU) castrated our ability to protect the homeland. We have open borders. If a person has the will they just need to enter Mexico and sneak across our border. They are provided with maps on where to cross. There are directions on how to avoid the Border Patrol. There are idiots on our side of the border that leave water out to facilitate this illegal migration. What is to keep terrorists from following these routes? Oh. They have found muslim prayer rugs along the border. So maybe they are here already. Waiting for the time to kill.

I want President Bush to start sounding like he did after 911. Maybe the elections are toning him down. But I think an honest message directing us toward a victory could only help. Especially after the Democrats were so upset about Pathway to 911. It is frightening to have a political party and former President threaten the American Broadcasting Company (ABC) with sanctions and pulling their licenses. Shouldn’t the ACLU been helping ABC? Was unaware if they were, and of course *sarcasm alert* we know the ACLU does not have an agenda *end sarcasm alert*. The movie still aired last night and finishes tonight. Unaware if the film was modified to appease the Democrats who sounded very Stalinistic last week. This is why every American needs to own a gun. Maybe more than one. I don’t want to live in Amerika. I refuse to.

I was on the verge of becoming totally apolitical. There are times when I cannot see the difference from a Democrat and a Republican. They have all been spending money like a drunken sailor in a whore house. But when it comes to national defense, I realize that the Democrats will never be the answer. They will appease the Iranian Nazi into starting World War III resulting in millions of deaths. Our world does not need the second coming of Neville Chamberlain.

Liberals may say not enough is being done on domestic policy. But I live in the sovereign state of Texas and I want the Texas Governor and Congress to deal with these local issues. The feds need to tend to their knitting. And that knitting means protecting my nation’s borders and giving my children a future that does not include their premature deaths. We need to stomp on some snake heads and get along with business. Otherwise we shall suffer 911 II. Please tell me that is not what is going to take to find some real Americans.

The first night at sea I could not sleep. Not because of the ship’s motion or floating. That never bothered me the whole trip as the ship is quite large and stable. My right contac had watered the whole day. My relatives wondered why it appeared so red. I thought it came from a lack of sleep so I ignored it. Honestly, I expected to go to sleep and wake up and with it recovering over night.

At three in the morning I realized that the irritation was not due to a lack of rest. I went to look for my contacs case and discovered that I did not pack one. What to do? I took one of the drinking glasses and filled the bottom with contac cleaning solution. Felt immediate relief when I removed the contac. After that I slept well.

I went two days without that contac. It might seem strange to do so, but my contacs are set up like a bifocal. My left eye is for looking and my right eye is for reading. Thus I really did not experience as much trouble as I thought I might wearing a single contac. My brain is so accustomed to looking with the left eye that I did not notice the missing lens.

I went to the buffet with the missus for breakfast at around 8. We saw her parents and sat with them. I would plant myself there for a couple of hours sipping on coffee and listening to Cantonese conversations with no clue what is being said besides chosun, which means good morning. I did not mind for outside the world looked beautiful. We were at College Fjord with its beautiful glaciers. Small icebergs dotted the water and it provided an incredible view. I regretted leaving my camera in my room. But my knee hurt to move around, so I did not retrieve it.

For the morning I decided to go and hear a lecture given by the ship’s naturalist. She spoke on whales and other Alaskan creatures that live in and around the waters we sailed upon. Found it interesting that when the whales slap the water with their tail fin they are informing other whales that food is found. Also learned that whales circle their food. And I would be more accurate to say a circle of whales, perhaps as many as a dozen might circle a large school of fish. The paniced fish swim in a tight ball. Then one whale submerges down to the bottom and swims up through the fish ball, taking in a mouth full. After the bite the whales velocity may carry them flying above the water for a moment. This made me really want to join one of the whale watching excursions later in the week.

My elder niece and #2 and #5 joined me for this lecture. After that we walked a bit and I found the missus. We went to the area where the cruise photographs were on display. Everytime you turn around on the ship one of the photographer’s would snap a shot of you. In this area you could find prints of those shots. My family had a photo taken as we embarked. It looked pretty nice and they even framed it around a map of the cruise’s course. We purchased that shot as a memory of the cruise.

Then it was back to the buffet for lunch. Let me tell you the buffet is incredible. There is always something there 24 hours a day. And the variety changed every hour. There was a long line of bain maries serviced by chefs who carved meats and provided sauces for the various dishes. There was two long islands that held bread and pastries. Another long island contained salads and yet another held desserts. It was hell for a dieter. haha

After lunch I took a nap. Then I went out and found the missus and #1 and his wife playing bingo. Took the opportunity to drink a Guinness. Kicked myself as I realized I did not pick up the camera after my nap. All I could think is the bloggers are gonna kill me for this lapse.

We went to arrange excursions after lunch. My wife and kids would go kayaking at Skagway, while I had to opt for a train ride up to White Pass. My daughter also signed up for bicycling at Katchican (sp?). The whale watching excursions had filled up unfortunately.

Ran into my kids who were having a blast in the Teen Zone making new friends. My son was becoming addicted to ping pong and trying to get me to play. The knee prevented that unfortunately. Also took this time to shop for some deodorant and a wrap for the knee.

#4 is a physical therapist. She looked at my knee and suggested it is nothing more than sprained ligaments. Then she showed me how to wrap it correctly.

Then we prepared for dinner. We had a reservation every night of the cruise in the International Dining Room at eight. You could not dress down for dinner, so no blue jeans or t-shirts for yours truly. Our family was dispersed across three tables. Heck it is difficult to seat 22 folks at one table. #1 assigned the seating arrangements each night. This insured that everyone had the chance to dine with each other a couple of times. The first night I sat with #3’s bro-in-law and #1’s FIL and SIL.

Our seating placed us adjacent to a window, which afforded a view of the mainland and the icebergs floating in the sea. Even at 8 the sun still shown brightly and it would be evident until well after 10:00 pm. The wait staff in the International Dining Room proved to be excellent. The two waiters that worked our three tables were from the Phillipines and these gentlemen were impeccable. I’m picky about service because of my hospitality training, but these guys quickly put me at ease.

Every night we were preseneted with a different menu. The selections always included at least three different appetizers, soups, salads, entres’, and desserts. Usually there were more. For the first dinner I ordered salmon. I know you guys are gonna hate me, but once again I forgot the camera.   But I will never forget the taste of that fish. It was beautiful. An orgasm for my tastebuds. I fear I shall never taste salmon so delicious as long as I live. I ditched my diet also. Who could refuse New York cheese cake? And it tasted exceptionally smooth and creamy.

After dinner we went to the theater for a show. The cruise director, Peter (cannot recall his last name), MCed all of these shows. He is a young Englishman and quite the humorous chap. The show was a little musical thing. Nothing that memorable, but I have sat through worst shows.

After that we went to the room. Had a bit of a row with the kids, who think they can run amuk 24 hours a day, but we nipped that real quick.

Note. Sorry about no photes. But I assure you that I learned my lesson and the camera remained close to me for the rest of the cruise.

The alarm clock blared some forgotten tune at six in the morning. I woke up and looked around the room. The calendar next to the clock had a big red circle on Tuesday, June the twentysecond of 1976. I tossed the covers off and shivered as the a/c blew across my bare feet. Sitting up I looked around the cluttered livingroom. When would I sleep in this bed again? Would I ever awaken in this room?

I groped for my glasses with my right hand, as my left wiped away the last bit of sleep. The clothes I would wear today were already laid out on the dining table. This room where I slept also had a couch and a couple of easy chairs. Made it convenient for watching the TV or listening to the stereo. I put on the blue work shirt on which my mother had embroidered a drum along with a pair of drumsticks. White athletic socks were pulled up next.

Paws scraping the floor came from the kitchen. I looked over and saw my Eskimo Spitz investigating the noise my radio caused.

“Hey Misty,” I called out. “Come her girl.”

She walked over tail wagging and she rubbed her soft white fur up against my bare leg. I scratched behind her ears.

“You gonna miss me. I know I’ll miss you.”

I gave her hug and she licked my ear and cheek. Quickly, I truned my face away lest I get a kiss on the lips. As I stood she walked back to the kitchen and towards my parents’ room. Grabbing my blue jeans I fell back on my bed and stuck my legs in the air as I pushed my feet into the jeans and pulled them over my legs. Next I rolled forward and returned to my standing position. I jerked my pants up the rest of the way , zipped and buttoned them securely. Looking in the mirror I ran my fingers across my scalp. Still had not got use to all of my hair being cut off. Had it done the previous Saturday. Figured it was all coming off sooner than later so why wait.

My shaving kit lay on the table. It was empty  now, but that would change soon enough. It had been a graduation present and I liked it a lot. It was made of brown suede leather. I walked through my sister’s room on my way to the only bathroom in the house. She slept still. It was summer who could blame her. Then I entered the tiny hallway that abutted both bedrooms and the bathroom. I could hear my parents rustling in their room. Did not look in, though I could have. The house had no doors except on the bathroom. For reasons I could never figure out my dad removed all of the interior doors.

“Morning,” I cried out as I entered the restroom. I took care of my toilet. Shaved and brushed my teeth. Then I filled up the shaving kit with the things I would need.

I retraced my steps to the dining table where I dropped off the shaving kit. Went to the Kitchen where I made myself a bowl of cereal. By the time I finished eating it was 6:30.

Now it was a matter of waiting. My mom entered the room dressed in one her pant suits. Today was a work day for her. She looked old, sad, and unsure. She looked at me and then returned to her room. I tried to read but could not focus. The clock read 6:45.

Mom came out again. She had an envelope and she handed it to me. “Here are some stamps,” She said. “You’ll need them.”

I smiled at her and took the envelope. Peeked in side and sure enough there were stamps inside. I folded the envelope and pockected it. My mom retreated back toward her room. She shouted something at my stepfather. My sister walked out of her room looking sleepily at me.

“This is going to be all yours,” I smiled. “No more fighting over the tube.”

She stared back blankly and turned back to her room. I heard the bathroom door shut as she entered. I paced in the living room. Time seemed to crawl.

My mom and dad entered the room and took a seat on the couch. My dad had retired so he had no urgency to go anywhere. Most of his day was spent watching TV, playing with the dog, and drinking Wild Turkey. My mom kept trying to smile, but she could not seem to maintain it for long. Then my sister walked into the room and sat on the easy chair.

I paced a bit more. Then I remembered my shaving kit. I walked over and retrieved it taking one last look at my ugly mug in the mirror. Outside on the street a car door slammed. I peeked through the blinds on the door. The car was green with US Army on the side. The recruiter, a Staff Sergeant, walked across the sidewalk. I opened the door before she even reached the concrete steps.

“Morning,” I spoke first.

“You ready,” she replied?

“Just gotta say goodbye.”

And I turned and the whole family stood there. I hugged my sister first just to get it over with. Who wants to hug their sister anyway. Then I hugged my mom who cried now. “I’ll be okay,” I tried to reassure her. But mom was mom and the tears kept dripping down her cheeks.

Then she released me and my stepfather stood there. He had already told me not to come home if I got kicked out during basic. In younger days I had dreamed of beating the crap out of him when I left home. The excitement of going downtown subdued any desire to ruin the moment. I shook his hand and turned to face the street.

The recruiter had already gone to the car. I followed her and sat in the front passenger seat. My family still stood on the porch and they waved as the car pulled away from the curb.

“You ready Jerry?”

“Oh yeah. Been waiting for this day since I was eight.”

“Eighty-second Airborne will be lucky to get you.”

“I hope so. Got to make it through Airborne school first.”

“You’ll do fine.”

“Still don’t understand why you want to be infantry. You could have been any MOS(Military Occupational Skill).”

“I told you Sarge. I want to kill Communists for Christ.”

The drive to the Houston Recruiting Station took about 20 minutes. She parked the car and then she walked me in. As soon as I walked in I saw a buddy of mine.

“Hey Monkey,” I called out. “I did not know you were gonna be here today.”

“Don’t call me Monkey. I hate that name.”

Monkey’s real name was Bradford. We had a mutual acquaintance named Carl, who would join the army in September. Carl held a going away party for Monkey and me at his house. He had hung a couple of dozen bananas from the ceiling of his pool house to tease Bradford. It was one last drunk in the bomb shelter, Carl’s dad had installed back during the 50s. We would drink beer down inside, using bags of rice for cushions.

I cut Bradford some slack. The only time I called him Monkey after that was when we were alone. Would have been funny to see that name follow him to military police school.

The morning was uneventful. We waited as clerks typed orders. For lunch they provided vouchers that we could only spend in the cafeteria. They served chicken fried steak, mashed potatoes and green beans. Tasted pretty good. The early afternoon was more waiting. Then they ushered the recruits into a small room. There were two dozen chair and we filled up half of them. A naval officer stood at a podium, while behind him there was an American flag. He briefed us. Then he led us all in the enlisted oath:

I, (state your name), do solemly swear that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; and that I will obey the orders of the President of the United States and the orders of the officers appointed over me, according to regulations and the Uniform Code of Military Justice. So help me God.

With those words spoken. There was no going back. My ass belonged to Uncle Sam.

Soon after the oath they gave us our orders. Monkey and another dude would be going to Fort Leonard Wood in central Missouri for basic training. They put us in a cab and it drove us to the Intercontinental Airport. There we caught a plane to St. Louis. Once we arrived in St. Louis, a Sergeant directed us to one of four waiting buses. We loaded up and headed south. Did not even get to see the Gateway Arch.

The buses were packed full. I sat with Bradford. We stopped in St. Joseph. There we had a chance to go to the restroom and they bought us dinner. Don’t recall what they offered. Then it was back on the busses.

We arrive at Fort Leonard Wood, or Fort Lost in the Woods as we called it, sometime after midnight. They processed us in which took a couple of hours and you had to stay awake the whole time. Before I left that area I had memorized my social security number and stopped using Jerry as my name. Now I had to use Gerald, since it was my name legally. Finally, they took us to some old wooden barracks and we got to sleep. Day one was over.

The next few days were nice. Lot of waiting and classes. They taught us how to shave and brush our teeth. They issued me two new pairs of glasses. Uniforms were issued as well as underwear, a duffel bag and laundry bags.. And I was real glad to get that uniform and underwear. I wore the clothes I left home in for three days. It was getting ripe despite taking showers.

Food was good at the inprocessing center. We ate a lot of steak. There was no complaints about the food. I lucked out on the details too. I only had to clean the headquarters building once. Though I pissed off the orderly. Could not mop to his satisfaction.

After we had been there a week they had several cattle cars waiting for us. A cattle car looks just like it sounds. It is a trailer carried by a semi with breathing slats like you see on trailers that pull livestock. Only differnece is these had benches and rails to hold onto if you stood. They packed us into these with all of belongings and took us to meet our drill sergeants.

This is the front door to my home for the eight weeks of basic training. I was a Blue Devil in 1st platoon of Alpha Company 3rd Battalion, 3rd Training Brigade. Out platoon cheer was:

We got stamina.

We got guts.

We got the other platoons

By the nuts.

These men were my new mother and father. But all I ever called them, if I knew what was good for me, was Drill Sergeant. And I damn sure better never ever call them sir.

On the drive back to Kamaksan I became better acquainted with Sergeant Cool. I sat in the back of the jeep squished between his gear. I learned that back in Arizona during those first times I encountered him, he had gone through a divorce. So he had a lot of other things on his mind. My impression of him being a stuck up dude with rank making him too good for lesser enlisted men becamed dashed quickly.

He had been working in Seoul recently. Now he had a yobo in the big city and they were filing marriage paperwork. Sergeant Cool had not picked some whore out of the ville either. Some how he met a college graduate and he even had the blessing of her parents. This elevated him in my eyes too. I kind of hoped she had a horny younger sister, but I never had that kind of luck.

Sergeant Cool had been in the shit too, a Viet Nam vet. But he never talked about the war. That in itself told me a lot. One thing you learned quick in the Army. The men that had seen the elephant, rarely talked about it. Them that did were crazy fucks and you did not want to be around them. They had a tendancy to go off on strange tangents, which were usually painful. I stayed away from them. Most folks that you find that do talk about the war are fucking liars. You learned to ignore their bullshit.

He did talk about the “war stories” in Bangkok and Pubic Bay. Pubic Bay is GI talk for Subic Bay in the Philippines which has a sizeable ville. He got to take R&R (Rest and Relaxation) at both places. The only “war story” I remember from him was about him banging a Filipina in a bathtup while she had her period. Honestly, I wish I could forget that story. Some GIs liked sex like that, referring to it as the Red Badge of Courage. Me. I just smiled and believed that was something I could live without.

As soon as we got back to the mountain Sergeant Cool introduced himself to Country Boy and DC. Me meeting the Sarge first became another reason for DC to get pissed at me. More ice on his raging snowball. Fortuanatley Sergeant Cool recognized this and kept us working on seperate sides of the room. That limited our confrontations to who was going to sweep their work area clean first. Really important issues to DC. I had no problem going last. Where was I going to go anyway?

We got into a routine. Wake up in the morning at six. Do the three Army essentials: shit, shower, and shave. While we took care of the essentials, Curly or one of the other permanent party would pick up Chun si. He was great, cooking eggs to order. Even ham and cheese omelettes. Then we worked til noon. Lunch was always yummy. Grilled Cheese sandwiches, hamburgers, sloppy joes. Men food. Back to work until supper time. Chun-si would cook dinner and then he would be returned home. The suppers were good too. Spagetti, steak and potato really good eatin’. When the driver returned we would watch a movie. If we liked it we might watch it two or three times.

After a week, Sergeant Cool got stir crazy. It was time for a beer. Curly said we could go to Tongduchon. The jeep had a pass that allowed it to be out after curfew. We could drink until closing time if we wanted. Curly said they had a place they normally parked the jeep. Even said they had brought girls back to the mountain in the past. That got my attention real quick.

My memories of that Wednesday night are quite clear. Seven days after Sergeant Cool arrived. As soon as he called an end to the work, we all ate supper, showered, and changed into nicer clothes. Even Country Boy joined us.

Of course DC came along. In his friendlier moments he had talked about marrying a Korean woman. DC was an older fellow (early 30s) and he wanted to have a little DC. The thought of him having a kid was scarey to me. But DC never threatened me when we visited the ville.

We parked the jeep in a civilian parking lot. An adashi took the parking fee and watched over all of the vehicles parked in the lot. We agreed to meet there at a certain time, though we stayed together intially.

Tongduchon had a huge ville. Restaurants, shops, and bars stretched along a series of wide alleys that ran for a mile luring in GI dollars. We ended up going into a bar that played country and western music. The bar girls wore green aprons and one took our order. Four beers and a coke for this round. DC left after the first beer. I suspect the music prompted him to go. He and I both preferred rock and roll.

Me. I plotted. They have to pick up Chun si in the morning. It is only five minutes from his house to Camp Casey. Why can’t they pick me up in the morning too?

“Yo, Sarge,” I said. “You mind if I stay in the ville tonight?”

Now Sergeant Cool was a cut up. He joked about every damn thing. And this silly grin appeared on his face.”Damn Blakemore. You fishing for the clap so soon? Hasn’t your dick already rotted off?”

I turned red, because he talked so damn loud. Fortunately, whatever red neck was singing on the speakers was louder and no one paid any attention.

Sarge continued. “Well hell I don’t wanna keep a good man down. Plus if you don’t get some pussy soon, you might try to fuck me and I’d have to kill you. But I’m not the driver. For the record, I don’t give a shit.”

So I looked at Curly, still red faced. “So can you get me in the morning?”

He nodded his assent. Great! Time to get laid. Since we entered the bar I had been scoping the girls out. All Korean of course. It appeared our waitress had no attachments. I could see other girls sitting at the different tables. I had never noticed this girl sit at any table yet.

Our waittress came back to check on us. She was short, even by Korean standards. I suspect she might be 5 foot tall (152 cm). She was very thin. Her hair had been cut short with no bangs, combed evenly around her head. It framed her face, which was plain and covered with acne. She had a cute smile and I liked her bright brown eyes. They gleamed with life and enthusiasm.

She stopped and looked at me. I smiled at her.

“So what you doing tonight,” she asked? I suspect she only expected small talk. She smiled a very pleasant smile.

“I’m sleeping with you tonight,” I replied.

My words were like a shock and you could see her jump a bit from my words. Her eyes widened a bit. But she was Korean and these people are good at hiding feelings. In a second she returned to her previous posture and facial expression.

“You are,” she asked?

“Do you have a yobo?”

“No, I got no yobo.”

“Then I’m staying with you tonight.”

She smiled. “You wantey more beer now.”

I responded, “Get us another round. Get yourself something too.”

She walked away with out order.

“Goddamn Blakemore,” Sergeant Cool spoke. “You don’t mess around.”

I looked back at him and said, “Life’s too short to wait.”

Everybody laughed. She returned and set our beers down. She put the tray down and set down next to me. I put my arm around her shoulder and life felt good for the moment.

The server went down and I can do nothing. So how about a little Korea?

I returned back to Camp Humphries with no problems. Nobody noticed I had left the post, because most everyone had left. Having an off weekend must have inspired everyone to wander a bit. Even the barracks rats like Country Boy had gone.

The day progressed like a work day. I packed my gear as we would leave for the north in the morning. I inventoried my tools and stuffed my duffel bag. The evening passed slowly being stuck in the barracks.

In the morning I learned that Country Boy would be on the same team. This fellow from Detroit also got assigned to our team. I’ll refer to him as DC for Detroit City. He came from blue collar roots and he could get real mean and ornery. DC basically was a big bully and being the low man on the totem poll (and smaller), he rode my ass a lot. He was old for his rank (in his 30s, ha ha old) and was prior service. This meant he left the military and returned; in fact he had served with the 1^st Cavalry Division in Viet Nam. I managed to ignore his threats and avoided getting my ass kicked or court martialed. Hell, I survived three years as an infantrymen, one “old” asshole was easy to avoid.

Well we had a team, but no team leader. We gathered our gear in an orderly pile and waited for a jeep. When it arrived we piled all of our gear into the trailer it towed and stuffed ourselves in the back of the jeep. I hoped that we did not have to go all of the way north to the DMZ like this. That would have been close to 150 clicks (km) and I did not relish being jammed besides DC for such a long drive.

But they had a better method of getting us to our destination. The jeep drove us to the airfield. We were going to take a helicopter up to the DMZ. I could not believe it. I had only rode in a helicopter once before. While in the 3^rd Armored Division in Germany our Platoon Leader took us to sector. Sector defined the area we would defend when the Soviet Union and Warsaw Pact forces invaded West Germany. As part of our sector orientation the lieutenant arranged for a helicopter to take us up for a fly over. That was an awesome experience soaring over the Fulda Gap.

This helicopter was a lot larger than the two-seater I rode in Germany. The crew chief, load master, or whatever you call ‘em made sure we secured our gear. The jeep left and returned with another team. The crew chief also loaded a lot of food boxes and other cartons for the sites. Gear loaded we all found a seat and buckled ourselves into the harnesses.

In no time we felt the rotors accelerate. Everybody had a boyish smile on their face. None of us had expected this and it kind of made you feel like a kid. The chopper’s skids left the ground and we hovered while rotating to the left which faced us in a northern attitude. And then we moved, slowly gaining speed and altitude. In no time we streaked over fields. Below you could see horses pulling carts. Houses with green or red tiled roofs soon appeared as if they could fit in the palm of my hand. The land possessed serenity from this altitude. This had to be what the ancient poets saw when they called Korea the land of the morning calm. The terraced rice paddies carved into the hills and mountains added to the beauty of the fields in the valley.

I wondered if we might fly over Seoul. It would have been cool to see Itaewon from the sky. Wave down at the Kim sisters. Maybe spit on Miss Jin. But that was not to be.

The flight was incredible, though much too short. Soon we hovered atop a mountain. I could see a few small buildings inside a fence. Huge antennas were attached to frames that pointed northward and southward. A helipad could be seen next to a cliff and a green smoke grenade beckoned the pilot to land his bird.

The skids touched down gently and we moved. I have to admit I felt a bit afraid. The chopper’s blades spun and the thought of getting my head chopped off filled my imagination. I grabbed my duffle bag and tool box and set them to the side. We went back and grabbed other containers marked for this mountain.

We cleared all of our gear and the helicopter left with the other team. The cliff provided a great view of a valley. A river ran through it. Later I learned the river ran pretty close to the 38^th parallel and it marked the DMZ. Barracks had been built on both sides of the rivers but the rest of the land looked agrarian.

A tall Korean man stood near where the green smoke grenade smoldered the last of its green streaks. He wore khakis and had the stripes of a Corporal. His name tag spelled his name as Yi. He did not carry a pistol, but a long machete hung from his belt.

A jeep drove to our location and we loaded our gear in the back. It did not have a trailer so we walked up the hill and through the gate. Inside a glass booth another machete Korean guard watched us enter the compound. We passed two buildings on the way to the main structure. The jeep had parked in front.

We grabbed our tool kits and duffels and walked inside. There were two GIs on the mountain when we arrived. They showed us around. There was a kitchen with a circular dining room table to the left, while on our right there was a day room, a place to relax with couches and easy chairs. The one thing I did notice was the movie projector. We received new movies on each helicopter run. That was nice as we could get no television reception up on the mountain. VCRs were around but not common enough yet to make it to the mountain.

We had a choice of bunk rooms. They had sufficient bunks for a dozen soldiers to include lockers for storing you r gear. The bunk rooms were divided by the latrine. We had toilets and showers with hot and cold water, so life would be bearable up here.

We took our tools and put them in our work area. I choose to not discuss that space. I might be required to hunt you down and kill you if you learned what they do up there.

Went back to dining room where this little Korean man was cooking chili con carne. He was introduced as Chun Si, which translates as Mr. Chun. This guy cooked real good meals for us. You did not lose weight on the mountain. He lived in a village 20 minutes away from our location. One of the GIs that lived on the mountain would pick him up in the morning and drop him off in the evening.

The other Koreans stayed in the barracks closest to the guard post. I never entered that building. They worked two week shifts with two weeks off. They brought their own food and entertainment with them. The other building housed the generator which powered the entire compound. It also held the washing machine and dryer. Washing clothes there was always kind of embarrassing. The guards were nice fellows and I would start washing a load. When I would return for the next load they would have already moved the clothes to the dryer and started my next load. By the time it was done they would have washed, dried, and folded all my clothes. I would try and tip them, but they would never accept my money.

Only Corporal Yi entered the barracks and Chun Si. They would have long chats at the dining room table when Chun Si was not cooking. They never stepped beyond those areas. It seemed an invisible line existed that they would or could not cross.

I walked over to one of the GIs that worked on the mountain. He had real curly hair and I shall call him Curly. I asked, “What is this place called?”

He looked back at me and replied, “Welcome to Kamak-san.”

After all of the weeks of carrousing being confined to base was hell. But it did give me time to catch up on my reading. There was not much else to do. I could have gone to the movies, but I did not really like going to main post. At night I would watch my comrades leave. All except Country Boy. He just hung around the barracks writing letters to his wife and reading. We had not chatted much since we had flown into Korea. But we swapped books and that gave me less reasons to go to main post.

I had ordered and prepaid for something in the ville. Today, I do not remember what exactly I needed. But I approached Sergeant DH about picking it up.

“Yo Sarge.”

Sergeant DH looked like a lot of Viet Nam veterans. In his thrities, but he had the white hair of a sixty year old man. Despite this his moustache looked black. He probably dyed it, but I don’t know. He looked like a frog when he sneered at me.

“What,” he replied in manner that made me feel like a private in basic training?

I showed him my claim ticket. “I need to pick this up in the ville. I don’t want to lose it.”

“I told you Blakemore. You go to the ville for any reason and I am going to burn you.”

I walked away rolling my eyes. I knew he meant it. That would probably get me shipped back to Fort Huachuca where the CO would hit me with an Article 15. I could lose rank, pay and work extra duty for a few weeks.

So I asked Jam to help me out. I walked down to the gate with him. Jam showed the MP his orders and walked off after the private gave him the nod of approval. He looked at me waiting for me to show my pass or orders.

“I cannot leave. Can I just wait for him to come back? He won’t be gone long.”

Kid nodded his head. Not the talkative sort. There was a lot of pedestrian traffic. People coming and going. A couple of Korean hotties came up and used a phone that allowed them to call the barracks.

The time passed and much to my surprise Miss Lee came walking up to the gate. I wondered why she was there and then I saw her use the phone. She had not seen me yet. I could only imagine that she called her old yobo. I half hoped he was not dripping yet. But I knew the chances were pretty good that he would be feeling the symptons soon. Of course if he passed it on to Lee and subsequently me then he should have been suffering already. I hope it burnt like hell under those circumstances.

When Lee hung up the phone I waved and called her over. She looked surprised to see me. Cetainly she was confused that I had not visited her in a few days. Maybe she felt I rejected her. I do not really know.

She came over and I whispered into her ear, “Your old yobo gave us VD.”

It felt good telling her that news, even though I honestly could not be sure if her old yobo was the source or Suki. She turned pale and her body stiffened.

“You have VD?”

“Yep. Thank your ex when you see him, will ya?”

She turned around and walked back into the ville. VD was bad for girls in her business. It meant quarantine in the prison or monkey house as GIs called it. At least that is the rumor that GIs spread about girls that get VD. But it had to really hurt them with their earning ability. They had bills to pay. Getting treated meant more money they owed mama-san. I felt a little sad for her. But she had screwed around and lied to me so I could not give her all the pity she deserved.

Jam returned shortly afterwards and handed me my parcel. I presented it to the MP to inspect and returned to the barracks. Another exciting evening of reading. At least I was getting plenty of sleep.

When I am ill I try and drink a lot of water. Water being a cleanser I hope to flush whatever poison my body contains out more quickly in this manner. I promoted my water cleansing belief during a break and some of the com center people listened as well as my team mates.

There was a pretty girl that worked in the com center. But the pretty did not pierce her flesh. This girl had a foul mouth and she insulted everyone. Rumor had it that she sold her ass to Korean men in the ville. But knowing GIs it could have been sour grapes from striking out with her. She listened as I gave my theory. It felt kind of good to have a discussion for a few minutes where people weren’t chiding me about the clap.

When I finished she spoke, “I don’t drink water. Never have. Never will.”

Her response puzzled me and I asked, “Why is that?”

She looked at me and sneered. “Fish fuck in it.”

Everybody busted up laughing. My whole theory trivialized. But I had to laugh too. And then I resumed working.

At day’s end Sergeant Hillbilly announced he wanted to throw a party for the team. We’d been busting our ass working almost every weekend. He would set it up in a hotel inside the ville. Only problem was I could not leave base as my profile would still be in affect. Sergeant DH was more than happy to remind me too.

Then Sergeant Hillbilly announced that the team would be split up. Some people would be staying in Camp Humphreys. But they needed three teams to go work on forward sites located along the DMZ or demiliaterized zone. I wanted to stay in Camp Humphreys so bad, but because I got the clap sarge informed me I would be going north.

Sarge told me, “Blakemore, I’m sticking your ass on a mountain where I can keep you out of trouble. You’ll thank me later.”

All I could think was son of a bitch. I wanted to visit Song Tan one more time. I needed to let Suki know she might have the clap. Looking back in retrospect the Army really did a piss poor job of trying to stop VD. Seems like a guy knows where he dipped his wick. If the army took the effort to inform the girls sooner it would have saved money and time on treating soldiers. Damn army.

The days passed and the party was imminent. Sergeant DH remained a dick head and swore that I better not be at the party. Sergeant Hillbilly overheard this exchange and stepped in.

“You have my permission to attend the party, Blakemore. But you have to go back to the base once it is over.”

Sergeant DH turned red and I think you could have boiled water on his head. But he could not say a thing. The only thing that would have made the moment more golden is if I could have flipped him off.

Later I saw Red who remained Sergeant DH’s mistress. She and I were still friends despite her poor choice in men.

I asked, “You ready for the party tomorrow?”

“We’re not going.”

“No. We’ll be in Seoul. DH wants to go up to Seoul and bitch about Hillbilly.”

The cogs started turning in my head, “You’ll be in Seoul all weekend?”

“Oh yeah.”

“Have fun.”

I walked off. The only person that gave a shit whether I left post or not would be totally out of the way. I could go tell JB and Choon that I was leaving. They could inform Suki if I did not find her.

The party took place at a hotel in the shadow of Camp Humphrey’s Gate. Not sure hotel is adequate to describe it really. It looked more like an anorexic motel. It had a small restaurant with wooden booths and stiff vinyl seat covers. The room kept the lighting level dim and the colors seemed to be prevalently brown. They served Korean fare, which I enjoyed though I could remember a few of my comrades wishing for steak or hamburger. There was plenty of beer, though I had to drink coke because my medical profile did not permit alcohol.

Sergeant Hillbilly brought his girlfriend. She had a pretty face and long long long black hair. Did I mention it was very long? Still wondered if she was worth losing kids over. But then again he could of have been dangling the promise of Golden Mountain to her with no intent to deliver. A lot of the books I read seemed to promote the idea that westerners have two wives. One in the west and another in the east. Though the western family seemed to get the benefits and inheritance.

The party broke up early, which I did not mind. I returned to the barracks and called it an early night. In the morning I would go to Song Tan, but I wanted to establish my alibi. One person telling Sergeant DH that I left the base would have screwed me.

In the morning I went to the mess hall for breakfast . When you go to the mess hall, you show your meal card. If you do not have a meal card you show your ID and sign a sheet that you ate. My signature would help establish my presence. After breakfast I looked around and saw nobody I knew in the area.

I passed through the gate as quickly as the MP allowed and caught a cab. The trip to Song Tan seemed to take forever. When I arrived Mr. Lee appeared as he always seemed to do. I registered for a room and asked about JB. Mr. Lee confirmed that JB had not checked out.

In short time I was reunited with JB and Choon. I told them I had VD and that Suki needed to go to the monkey house. Damn I was mean. To this day I do not which girl infected me, though I was more than happy to lash out at them as if they were both guilty. And that too was plausible.

Choon’s English must have improved too or my ability to understand Koreans had imcreased. Turns out that Suki actually danced at one of the clubs outside of Camp Humphreys. All of that time she had been so close, yet I never knew. Not that it would have changed a thing between us.

I figured I would visit Little Miss Lee. Seemed like I needed a haircut. She remained a cute little nervous chipmonk. Lee had me looking good in no time. But she had no interest to go out.

The day passed quickly and then the night arrived. I remember hanging out in the hotel restaurant. I kept bugging Little Miss Lee. Around 11:30 she surprised me when she walked over with two Korean dancers. One of the dancers had a GI in tow. Lee introduced me to the girl and I cannot remember her name. She was very pretty. She wore her hair down to shoulder blades and it curled beautifully. Her blouse was bright with a floral pattern and it tucked into a black mini-skirt. She woreblack boots that rode her calves and stopped just short of her knees. I always thought boots looked good on the right set of legs and she had them. Perfect almost too perfect. After introducing her Little Lee left. I never saw her again.

What a considerate girl. Shit. I guess there was no debating how she felt about me. Lee must have thought I was a dick on legs that wanted to stroke every girl I met. Such thoughtfulnees too.

The dancer carried a hat case. She sat it next to me.

“Please watch my things,” she ordered. “It’s my life.”

I acknolwedged her with a nod. Both girls left for the banjo. The GI sat down at the table opposite me.

“Where you work,” I asked?

“Osan.” He looked me over a bit. Trying to measure me up the way servicemen do. I did the same to him. Was not a bad looking guy. Should not have problem with the ladies. He was as tall as I, though not as heavy.

“You air force,” I asked?

“Yep. And you.”

“I’m army.”

End of conversation. We did not speak another word. I contemplated the hat box. It was rather plain. I imagined it held spiked heels and bikinis. Her life. The belongings she valued most in life and she left them with me. Some GI met in a restaurant whom she planned to screw for twenty bucks. Maybe she would use that money to get some more doo dads for the box to hold. Or maybe she would pay off the debt the box incurred. I imagine dancers had a mama san. Otherwise, why become attached to  some stranger in the Song Tan Hotel with nothing more than an introduction. I wondered if she knew Choon and Suki.

The girls returned. The wingnut was glad to be saved by the girls I think. He stood up and latched on to his. I stood up, because thats what a Southern man does when a woman is standing in his presence.

I could have been smitten by her lovely face quite easily. Always been a fool for pretty face. She made the mistake of opening her mouth. The dancer spoke and I could sense a harshness in her. The girl was definitely an alpha female.

“Thanks for watching my stuff,” she said. “Look we want to go to this new dance club during curfew. But we need to go now to beat curfew. So come on.”

She picked up her hat box and held it up for me to carry. I looked at her and smiled. In good conscious I could not go with this girl. No matter how much I disliked her attitude, there is no way I wanted to risk giving her the clap. And why waste my money on someone I do not like?

“I’m not going.”

Her eyes widened and she looked at me.

“You don’t want to go with me,” she asked. The words were touched with a trace of How dare you…

“Nope sweetheart. I’m going to bed.”

“You don’t like me?”

I just laughed and walked to the elevator. As I waited I looked back and she stared at me. Her eyes shooting nails into me. I probably should have been disappointed that I did not stay with her. But then telling a pretty girl I was not interested in her was a new experience. And with her it felt good. It felt damn good. Probably better than any sex I could have had with her.

It is hard to believe the time that has passed since my siblings and I last shared a day with Mom. Probably seems strange that I cannot remember the details of that day. Though I could imagine the general drift of what transired.

My brother sending regrets as he was busy doing nothing. What has he ever done? My sister lived with mom at the time and would be more than eager to go out. And the destination for our lunch would be Luby’s Cafeteria, mom’s favorite.

The conversation would be probing. How was school? How was my job? Was I dating anyone? The last question being the most important. I had just given up on a Malaysian girl named Chung. She was too cold and I was too me.

This was our first Mothers Day without my stepfather’s presence. He had been buried just the month before. I don’t remember if the conversation ever touched upon him. It must have been strange without him there worrying about the dog left at home alone for a couple of hours. I remember his funeral took place right in the middle of finals. I juggled driving family around town between studing and exams. Time did not permit me the time to visit the funeral home for visitation. So my mom had the casket opened up at the grave so I could have a last peek. Last thing I wanted to see and it resulted in the last thing I thought I would ever do for him. Tears streamed down my cheeks in front of the crowd. My two oldest stepsisters Frances and Margaret both came over and hugged me until I could compose myself.

 I probably forgave her that by Mothers Day. Why shouldn’t I? She thought she was letting me say goodbye. The sad thing as we ate our meal is that none of us had any inkling that Mom would not be there for next year. We treated it as just another holiday lunch at Lubys.

If I had know our time together was coming to an end I might have done things differently. Been more thankful instead of ducking her annoying questions.

As I look back she did so much for me. Mom fled to Arizona pregnant with me, as bastards were not acceptable in the Bible belt at that time. Mom had to do so much for me in those days. She learned to drive, found a job, found people to watch me while she worked. Mom even learned how to cook. Finally my brother (he was surprised that he was no longer the only child) arrived and he helped a bit. And then friends kept introducing her to men and she found one that she married and later adopted me.

They worked hard and bought a nice house in Tempe. Mom stayed home as she gave birth to my sister. We lived the American dream. My brother made sure I caught the bus and mom was there when I came home from kindergarten.

Problem was they spent too much money for a postal workers pay. So the dream became a nightmare forcing them to run from bill collecters all the way back to Houston where I could be accepted now since mom had a husband. Damn I wish I had been born in Texas, though I always long for the mountains surrounding the Valley of the Sun. Life might have been so much simpler without a man calling you bastard every time you made a mistake.

But mom protected me from him as best she could. Mom made sure he never learned of any trouble I had at school. She took me to the doctor. Saw that I made frequent trips to the library so I could read about places far from home. She would bring me special treats or give me a ride to a friend’s house.

She tried to keep patches on my knees, though I know I tore through pants faster then she could ever hope to mend them. Mom made sure I always had a crewcut as a boy and advocated for me to let if grow longer (though not much) when I made it to Junior High School. When I insisted on wearing bell bottoms and silk shirts with French sleeves she helped me stay in fashion. Mom let me buy music records that I had to hide from my stepfather. When he found them he would throw them in the trash.

Mom made sure we made it to Foleys every Christmas. They had toy trains running and miniature wonderlands set up and you could watch elves building toys and the like. At the end of the line you would find Santa Claus. Mom would not tell Santa that I was naughty boy (usually I was) and then I would tell him all of the things I wanted him to bring me.

I remember mom sitting around playing board games with my sister and I. Helping us dye Easter eggs. Light matches so we could play with sparklers on the 4th of July. Mom helped me win the Halloween poster contest every year for my class. And then she helped me get it displayed at Butera’s grocery in the neighborhood.

It was my mom that dropped me off to work and picked me up when my shift was over when I got a job in High School. I still had the nerve to ask for an allowance. She took me to football games when I marched in the band. Mom made sure I arrived on time for concerts and music contests.

 Mom was my guardian angel when the old man got drunk. She kept him away from us on the worst nights. But some nights he would come out and verbally rip her apart. My sister and I laughed because we were too stupid to know better, while mom would cry and try to shoo us off to our rooms.

Mom made sure I got up on Sunday to go to church. She would always come in and tickle me awake, which I enjoyed. I did not enjoy my sister coming in with her and tickling me too. I yelled at my sister one Sunday to express my displeasure with her presence. When my stepfather heard the yelling he assumed I yelled at mom. He hit me so hard I flew up into the air until I crashed into the wall. Somehow Mom made sure that never happened again. At least not until I could fight back and stop it myself.

Sunday afternoon usually meant hamburgers or a cafeteria. Then mom, my sister and I would go to the movies. Anything to keep us away from home. During baseball season I would go see the Astros home games on Sunday. The best times as a family would be the four of us going to a baseball game.

Mom made sure I had a boy scout uniform with all of my scouting patches sown on. She drove me to meetings. She would get up at five in the morning on Saturday when I would go camping and drop me off at the scout house. She saved up money so I could go to summer camp. Then she took me to the doctor for my camp physical.

My mom cried the day the recruiter picked me up and took her baby boy to the army. She drove up to Missouri for my graduation from basic training. Mom would talk to me no matter how inconvenient the hour of my phone call. She mailed care packages packed with goodies, news, and little knick-knacks that expressed her love for me. Mom always gave so much that I could share with my buddies and still be damn stuffed. She did all of that for the entire time I was in the service.

When I left the service for school she took me shopping so I would dress well for class. She even offered to buy me a nice earring, though I never found one that I liked. Mom was confident that I would be the first family member to graduate. She knew I would do better in college with the discipline I picked up in the army. All through High School she commented on how I passed my classes despite the fact that I hardly looked at the books. My other mother, my drill sergeant, had opened me up to a harsh world. With their combined efforts I became a much better student.

Mom would not see me graduate. She would meet my wife, though she would not see my wedding. My mother would have loved to spoil some grandkids, but that chance was not afforded her. And it is not for me to question God’s timing, it certainly disappointed me that the three things that would have made her happiest in this life were not realized. Of course there will be plenty of time to share this in eternity.

I’m thankful that God took my mom quickly and quietly. No pain. A big surprise to everyone. My mom was a bit of a joker and I think she enjoyed going away like that. I remember calling her at the hospital before going to work on Thursday at six. We chatted mostly small talk, well I did mention my girlfriend a bit. The two of us had visited mom just a couple days earlier at the hospital. My mom said she would be released from the hosipital in a couple of days. Nothing looked astray. I worked in a liquor warehouse at the time and the job was pretty tiring. It was a good paying job for a college student. I went to my girlfriend’s apartment after work. We were planning for Thanksgiving dinner the next week. Thats when my sister called around eleven. She informed me that my mom had died.

Just like that God took her. But he was nice enough to allow her kids to talk with her that evening.

I miss my mom. Still after 20 years. The one person that would hide me from all my demons. Would endure my shouts of hatred toward my stepfather. The only person that recognized that no matter how much I screwed up I would end up good. She lived the example of what a good human should be so I could have no doubt.

When you love someone never let things go. Do not take their presence for granted. When you love someone tell them. Leave no doubt that you care and never reject those feelings when they are expressed to you. You never know when that someone can be removed from this Earth. Regrets make a poor path to follow.

Hug your mom. Tell your mother that she is the greatest. Never lose a minute debating whether you should spend time with your mother. Be there for her. She was always there for you.

Happy Mothers Day!

Damn I felt embarrassed and scared. I would have to go to sick call. Sick call meant I would need a sick call slip signed by Sergeant Hillbilly. He would want to know what ailed me and I could not lie to him if I wanted to. It meant he would inform the other sergeants and pretty soon everyone on the project would know. This information would make it back to Arizona as well.

Soldiers like nothing better than to harass their peers. You would walk by your fellow soldiers and they would give you applause, because you have “the clap.”

Someone would remark, “Did you turn off the faucet.”

And the response would be, “Oh no. That’s just Blakemore drippin’.”

This is the kind of stuff I would listen to for the next couple of weeks. But the first thing I had to get the “Silver Bullet.” That is the name GIs affectionately gave to the shot that cured the clap. Usually, this was penicillin, but I am allergic to that so I received another antibiotic.

Some might have suggested holding off. Wait until I returned to the states and see a private doc. But I had no idea how many months I would remain in Korea. I recalled someone actually pulled the pipes out of the urinal when I was Germany. They ignored the burning until the pain became so incredible that they yanked the metal water pipes out of their sockets. I had no desire to feel that kind of pain when I could just get shot and go on with my life. To some extent getting the clap was like a badge of the ville.

The other worry was that the clap might have brought along an acquainted ailment. GIs talked about a form of venereal disease (VD) that slowly ate your genitalia. Supposedly there was no cure. Whoever caught this was shipped off to an island to rot to death. I am betting now that the island was an urban myth. I don’t know about that type of VD though.

I talked to the com center people to get the skinny on how sick call worked at Camp Humphreys. What time? Where to go? I slept on it, staying inside the base rather than go to the ville, since sick call’s hours were early morning. Went to the mess hall and had breakfast with Jam. After breakfast I looked for Sergeant Hillbilly in the com center. He was easy to find as he was a loud fellow. He loved to hear his voice own voice. Hillbilly had a wife and a bunch of kids back in Huachuca. Sarge also had a yobo in the ville and he talked about marrying her. I don’t know if he did or did not.

He yakked about his lover to a group of guys as I approached, “Well I woke and she got up too. I’m still laying there and she got on her knees looking for something on the floor. So I got yobo’s ass all in my face. So I smelled her pussy. And it smelled good. Then I licked it. And her pussy tasted good. So I figured while I was there I better fuck it good too.”

They laughed at the result of the tale. Looking at all these guys listening to his story I wondered if any of them had gone to the ville yet. Why listen to his story? Go to the ville and make your own. But I had bigger things to take care of and I got Sergeant Hillbilly’s attention. I handed him a sick slip to sign.

“What’s this, Specialist Blakemore,” he asked?

“I need to go to sick call Sarge.”

“What’s wrong with you? Got the clap,” he spoke with such a tone I knew he did not question my ailment.

“Yep Sarge. I got a leaky faucet.”

“What in the hell you want to go and get the clap for?” Then he guffawed a barrage of laughter while signing my slip.

Well at least I did not have to wait for my ailment to hit the grapevine. He blabbed it out in front of anyone and everyone that was there. So I did not have to wait long to hear the jokes as I left to catch the bus for main post.

Sick call at most Army bases is a part of the hurry up and wait system. The whole Army is based on the idea of getting someplace early and then waiting. I arrived at sick call around 8:15, turned in my sick call slip and I was considered almost too late to be accepted. I sat in a chair and read my book. Every now and then a soldier might nod off where they sat and an orderly would order them to wake up.

Most of the people in the room looked at me with great suspicion. That’s the way GIs are. These guys could care less what ailment I carried. There problem involved their inability to recognize my unit patch. Everyone in the Army is assigned to a unit. As part of the CEI battalion I was in USACC (United States Army Communication Command) and we had a crest (Don’t remember what the crest looks like) for identifying the battalion. Since I came from Ft. Huachuca and I worked inside the remote part of the base none of these guys had seen my patch and crest before. GIs are very territorial and suspicious of strangers.

The first thought when meeting a stranger is trying to determine if he might be CID (Criminal Investigation Division, the CSI of the Army) or from the inspector general’s office. Strangers have only one purpose, to fuck with the status quo and make extra details (chores) for a unit. They could see from my rank that I was not likely to do these things. But they had to consider who I worked for and where they might be and what they might do based on what I saw and said.

I read my book while feeling all of that negative energy flow in the room. Really I do not blame them for feeling that way. I would have done the same in their shoes and not thought twice about it.

An hour went by and they called my name. I walked over to the orderly. I handed him my medical records which I had in my possession since I was TDY (temporary duty). He took my temperature without asking me anything. Time passed as the mercury settled on no fever. He jotted down the temperature on the medical notes.

“So what seems to be the problem,” he asked.

“I got VD.”

“Okay. What makes your think that?”

“My piss burns and my dick drips.”

“Sounds like gonerhea.”

“Feels like hell,” I remarked.

He kind of snickered at my comment and waved me back to the seats. I went back to my book.

Another hour passed and they called me again. They actually called several of us and we left the waiting area and went into a back room of the clinic. Once we entered the room, a medic lined us up, nice and neat. There was a long table and our line was on the one end and parallel to its longer side. On the opposite end of the table was a female captain. A young cute brunette. She arranged microscope slides and other implements on the table. A pile of medical records also lay in a neat heap.

Once she had everything set up she called us forward, one at a time. The captain or the medic would have their patient display their penis. Then they would take a cotton swab secured to a metal stick and insert it inside the penis for a sample. Then they would wipe the swab on the microscope slide, label it and set it in a rack where it awaited to be sent to a laboratory. With the slide secured then you would pull down your pants enough to get the “silver bullet” and then they would write your medical profile. The profile restricted you to Camp Humphreys and ordered you to drink no alcohol for two weeks. There may have been a few other restrictions but those were the ones that hurt me. Once they gave you the profile, the captain would sign off on your sick call slip and you could return. Quite an assembly line and it could go quite smoothly.

But it did not. I waited next in line, when the next GI went up to the Captain. She ordered him to take out his penis, as she stood there ready to swab.

“I’m not going to let a woman touch me,” he told the Captain.

“Soldier I am ordering you to take out your penis,” she demanded.

And me stuck having to listen to this prude. I’m thinking the whole time, who gave you the clap, man. If you had been so adamant about not having a woman grab your dick then you would not be here now. But I kept that thought in my head. If anything I would have a good tale for lunch and the fellas might forget my predicament. They kept going round and round. I’m waiting for the Captain to call in the MPs to hold him down. But the medic came over and swabbed him. I don’t know if the Captain reported him or not, but she certainly could have.

Then my turn arrived and I was more than happy to get this over and done with. For the record the swab hurts like hell, but it’s not the most painful thing I have ever experienced. I got my “silver bullet”, my profile, my signed sick call slip, and then I had to argue over taking my records back. Fortunately, when I produced my TDY orders they relented and allowed me leave with my records.

Once I was done at the clinic I did not head straight back to the com center. They failed to time stamp my sick call slip, so I do what soldiers do when they have some slack on the leash. I goofed off. Goofing off meant going to the PX and buying some essentials, cigarettes and junk food. Then I went to the book store and browsed a bit.

I returned to the base in the base as soon as it got to be lunchtime. I dropped off my purchases and went to the com center. Sergeant Hillbilly was not around, but Sergeant DH was there.

“You back from sick call,” he asked? His voice grated at me. If anyone could find a way to make the clap a worse experience he could.

“I handed him my sick slip and profile.”

“Blakemore if I catch you in the ville I am going to make sure you get an Article 15.”

And with that he made the clap a worse experience. There was no way the Camp Humphreys MPs would know I should stay inside the base. I had TDY orders and they allowed me to leave as I pleased. Camp Humphrey personnel would require a signed pass to exit the base. But now I had this jerk looking for a chance to burn me. Some people get promoted to high rank and they are not happy unless they make their subordinates miserable.

This really looked bad. No beer hurt a lot cause I liked to drink. I did real good at drinking. No woman, well I would never infect a woman knowingly. No ville, really killed me. I loved walking the streets and seeing the people.

Though the one question that nagged in the back of my mind constantly was who gave me the clap. Did Suki get it from her air force boy. Or did the old yobo give it to Miss Lee. That’s a question that I have never answered to my satisfaction to this day.