Time to Go

     All good things gotta end (seems I said that before). Even something as fun as bein' at the shootin' end of an immoral war. On the last night we made final preparations in the hope we'd look like clean, upstanding soldiers every mother'd want their daughters to go out with. Yeah, it was a ruse for sure but if lookin' upstanding and moral was what it took to get on that plane, we sure as hell were gonna do 'er.

     One of the brothers - brother being a word for a male African-Amaerican - was a master with a razor blade and a comb. Shaved all our heads down to the nubs for a buck a throw. Boots were shined and jungle fatigues starched and pressed. Strack. 

     Me, I was master of the sleeve roll. Uncle Sam said they had to be rolled. Took my time, pulled each fold full and flat. One of the E-6s liked my work so much he had me do his. Gettin' our asses out of country knew no rank.

     On a sad note I burned all of Lois' letters 'cause of the rumor mill. Story was every duffle bag was gonna be searched. And letters read lookin' for treasonous and seditious content. One bad word and it was hello new line unit. Can't say the letters Lois wrote had any of that in them but I decided to take no chances. This was no time to say f*** 'em if they can't take a joke. Letters were just paper with words on them. And it hurt like hell when I put a match to them in a waste basket. But that's just the way she was.

     Come the morning of August 27, 1969 we all boarded Chinook helicopters - we called them shit-hooks 'cause we were so clever - and flew off to Saigon and Bien Hoa air base. Second time I'd flown on a Chinook. First was leavin' Snoopy's Nose on the day Second Platoon was wiped out. That was a fine ride. This one was even better.

     At Bien Hoa we boarded an Air Force transport, big assed, four jet engine job. In the boarding line the E-6 whose sleeves I'd rolled said the obligatory "next." 

     Don't know about the rest of the men but I wasn't all that hepped up. Maybe I would have been had this been day 365 and not an early out. Maybe I was anticipatin' living the rest of my life knowing I didn't do a full tour. Didn't do my full penance for the stupidity that put me in the Army in the first place. Yup, I felt like a faker. Wanted to go and stay at the same time. Like I had a choice. And if I did, I'd a been a damned fool to stay. But I'd have thought about it. Weird, ain't it?