Countdown

     Irony reared its always appreciated head once again. Wish I'd a known it at the time. Would've made the process a whole lot more fun (maybe not as exciting) and easier on the gut.
     Bravo Company was bein' pulled out come August 17th. Each day as that date approached names were called to let them know they were for sure goin' home as Bravo boys. Finally, on the last day it was down to nine of us in the skunk hole.
     On the other side of the coin, names were bein' called who for sure weren't goin' as a part of the Company. But no longer were they a part of those havin' to stay in country. All of them were being shuffled off to do other jobs from running the PX to drivin' truck. And all of them had less time in country than me, so I knew I was safe. What it was I was safe for was a mystery.
     While the bodies were bein' sorted out the rumor mill had us goin' to Schofield Barracks in Hawaii. Or Fort Ord in California. Or Fort Collins in Colorado. Smart money was on Hawaii but I knew that was way too good to be true. Couldn't see the Golden Boy pattern that had been evolving since I stumbled my way into the Army for all the sunshine and bluebirds floatin' around my head I guess.
     Around this time we got access to a free WATS line so we could call the States for free anytime we wanted. After duty hours and a long wait in line that is. Waitin' in line was mostly a good time. Smokin' cigarettes and BS'n with whoever you went over there with. Sure beat humpin' the boonies.
     Let's see? Who to call? I was leanin' toward President Nixon. Thank him for gettin' us outta this hell hole and tell him how good he looked in those dark blue suits and black wing tipped shoes. But I figured he had better things to do with his time. Like goin' out for Chinese food so's his stomach would be ready to head east and open up the Red Peril so they could someday fill up all the Walmarts with cheap plastic crap.
     Number two on the short list was Lois. Figured she might as well know my good fortune. Seemed she already did. Seemed most everyone in the U.S. of A. did. Even had my name in the paper under the headline of:
                           Local AWOL Lucks Out - doesn't deserve it.

     What she didn't know was that I was goin' to Hawaii, or California, or Colorado. You see, I phoned a half dozen times and each time it was different. I'd get her hopes up for paradise then crush 'em the next day. Finally she gave up the pineapple ghost.
     Anyhow, no matter where I was headin', we were off and planning a wedding. That's an interesting concept. Planning something as important as a lifetime commitment when we were twelve thousand miles apart. Might as well have been on opposite sides of the planet (note of ironic humor). And when was this wedding to take place? Rumor had us getting leaves when we got back to the world. But the rumors didn't figure I'd already burned off all my leave 'til the next February. But maybe the rumor mill already knew I was a Golden Boy. More on that later.
     Finally, the day or departure arrived in the form of an armada of deuce and a halfs. Bravo saddled up, loaded up and moved out. Then the word came down from on high, we were all going. All except for me, that is. Bubble boy in green. Shit fire! For a couple of hours I moped my ass around.
     Now you've gotta remember, I may add a little color to the picture I'm paintin' but I sure ain't changin' the truth of it. That's just the way she was. All of Bravo was gone. Some to hell. Some to the World. Some to other companies but still goin' home. And then there was me. I sure felt special to be singled out like that. Almost expected the man to come in and tell me my job was to hold down the fort 'til every man-jack in the 9th Division was long gone. Just me and the mama-sans at the Dong Tam Steam and Cream. Can't say as I was up to such an important duty. That kinda shit only happened on Hollywood back lots where middle-aged John Wayne ran through the pretend jungles of Vietnam at night.
     Really, in The Green Berets, he and a couple of other assholes did just that. Remember what I said about dark way back in those deleted pages? About real dark. Total black dark. The kind where you can't see your hand in front of your face. Nobody, but nobody does a night time sprint through a triple canopied forest or anywhere with uneven ground and trees that look like shadows.
     So I went in and sat down on my bunk. Gave some thought to all the Sylvester Stallones in Hollywood who were gonna someday make a fortune out of pretending they'd been in the Nam savin' the world from Communism. And came to the conclusion they could all suck my dick.
     Don't exactly remember what I was thinking back then in the empty barracks, but that's the general idea. Piss and moan. Woe is me.