STUPID WAR STORIES: Tales from the Wonder War, Vietnam 1970-1971 by POMEROY KEITH

Author:POMEROY, KEITH [POMEROY, KEITH]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Published: 2015-07-25T04:00:00+00:00

TINY VIALS

Eventually we all wandered toward Red Beach itself, a flat expanse of white sand with 2-3’ high waves lapping onshore. In no time, the troops had broken up into two groups. Half of the gang, apparently all the ones with no nautical experience, attempted to launch a small sailboat into the surf. Most of us experienced saltwater soldiers flopped onto the beach above the high tide line to watch five morons perform a classic Three Stooges routine. I flopped down between JC and Bones and laughed myself sick at the spectacle. It was patently obvious that the sailboat was never going to sail anywhere with that crew.

About then, Bones ran his fingers through the sand next to me, encountered a strange object and pulled it from the sand. A tiny plastic vial lay nestled in his palm. It was about as big around as a little finger and had a screw cap.

Bones asked the obvious question. “What the hell is this?”

The font of all useless information answered immediately.

“That’s a smack vial.” I explained.

“What?” Bones bellowed.

Even JC, far more experienced at drugs, was shocked at my revelation.

“Yeah, this is Red Beach, the R&R center for the First Infantry Division, isn’t it? When those infantry grunts come out of the boonies after six month of combat, they’re crazy. They tend to go wild at the first opportunity. The local drug dealer sell them smack in these vials for $5 a pop. The grunts end up out here on the beach, snort the smack, and spend the day watching the waves. When R&R is over a week later, they go back into combat hooked on smack, and consequently are a danger to the rest of the troops. Apparently, smack addiction is a huge problem in all the combat units. The Army knows all about it, but hasn’t done anything to resolve the problem.”

“I don’t understand something. How does a well-known idiot savant like you know anything about smack?” JC asked me, pointedly. “I know you don’t do drugs.”

“All NCOs take a mandatory class on the prevalent drugs in circulation in Nam during our Vietnam Orientation Course. You know I have this mysterious ability to remember useless facts. I just remembered everything they taught us.”

“Of course, it had to be something stupid like that.” JC returned.

Bones began scooping sand through his extended fingers and pulling up more of the empty vials. Just for grins, JC and I joined him. In less than five minutes, we had uncovered over a hundred of the little vials in the small area of sand just within our combined reach. The three of us stared in amazement at the pile of empty vials. Bones, a man who almost never cursed, spoke eloquently for the three of us.

“Holy Mother of God, what is this stinking war doing to us?”

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