Jigs in the Ammo Shack

(A Vietnam War story concerning Flies, 1971)

This was a warm afternoon in the ammo dump, inside bullets shack-consisting of two rooms, walls produced out of plywood, floors or inlays of long solid wood boards-flat timber regarding the most portion, you can see by means of their cracks, placed crooked alongside 1 another; also typically the shack was the smite lopsided, almost wobbly, and very broken. Planted on four by several beams beneath the floorboards, about a half foot high, between the soft white yellow sand that surrounded it, providing a playground intended for the lizards to engage in excitement, unnoticed.

I carried a semi outdated ‘Stars and Pieces, ‘ magazine with me when I got to visit the bullets shack (where people soldiers did our own paperwork for allocations and distributing of ammunition towards the convoys arriving from a number of locations in the vicinity.

I carried that old ‘Stars in addition to Strips, ‘ magazine for a 30 days, until a fresh one came out there, and used this to swish away flies. These people were all over the place in the bullets shack-we were infested with them, with their buzzing around since if we have been invaders: fat in addition to thin bellied documents; some dark others light shads involving dark, long and short winged jigs, biting your hands and face, in addition to ears, behind your own neck, swarming all-around you, sneaking the shirt sleeves, diving into your eye like they were small punishing missiles, trained by the Vietcong to annoy you. -me, us!

There have been dead or declining flies, also strolling flies on all of the three desks inside the two rooms from the shack, filling the particular atmosphere with putrid debris, aiming towards one’s mouth, nevertheless quite content whenever they missed, and simply landed on the lips. 450 bushmaster ammo polluted everything, clinging, and climbing, and also a few crawling, within their speediest gait possible, specifically the big extra fat bellied ones, they’d try to get away but I would swat them, however leaving a dumpy-bloody mess, I really attempted to simply frighten them away, but like I mentioned before-or implied, they were already brained washed and ready to be able to sacrifice their lifestyles for the cause.

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