The Proud Bastards: One Marine's Journey from Parris Island through the Hell of Vietnam by Helms E. Michael

Author:Helms, E. Michael [Helms, E. Michael]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pocket Books
Published: 2004-02-20T07:00:00+00:00

Saturday afternoon. Me, Morton, Beard and Larson are walking along the recreational beach area of Subic Bay, taking advantage of a base liberty. To our left, a short distance inland among a shady grove of trees, several pavilion-covered picnic tables are busily occupied by military personnel and their families. A white sandy beach stretches along the shoreline for a few hundred yards before yielding to a thick growth of trees and tangled bushes growing right to the water’s edge. They must’ve cleared this strip and hauled in the sand. Nice, but sure as hell not as pretty as the beaches back home.

Children of various ages and races play happily in the sand, building castles and making cakes and pies with their colorful buckets and shovels. Others frolic merrily in the shallows, laughing and splashing each other with showers of water that sparkle in the bright sunlight. One persistent boy about six-years-old keeps trying vainly to catch little fiddler crabs that dash across the sand only to disappear teasingly into the safety of their holes inches from his grasping fingers. Patient little bastard.

It’s nice to see kids being kids again. Almost forgotten what that’s like. The kids in Vietnam don’t seem to ever play, at least not the ones I’ve been in contact with. All they seem to do is beg for “chop chop” or “cigalettes” or stare at you with that faraway blank gaze. It’s good to see kids laughing and running and splashing and throwing sand and even fighting over who’s got whose bucket. No fear of war, or hunger, or numbness to life in their eyes. Just happy, everyday children. God, I’d almost forgotten they existed.

Numerous sun worshipers lie scattered about the area on blankets or colorful towels, soaking up the hot rays of the early afternoon sun. Several unattached beauties spotted and scoped out. Jesus, those bikinis hardly cover anything! Pangs of passion-hunger well up inside. Mmm, mmm. Man, that stuff almost makes my mouth water. The lucky bastards that are stationed here have got it fucking made, most affirmed.

Morton ambles over to where three browning beauties are lying together and puts his big-city Midwestern make on them. Odd man out. Walking back this way, alone. Shot down. What-the-fuck did you do to charm ’em so, Chuck? Serenade ’em with “Your Cheatin’ Heart” or something? Must’ve been your breath or jungle rot. Ah, fuck ’em. Word must be out to stay away from the Marines off the ships. Ain’t seen one damn grunt score yet today. Act like we’ve all got leprosy or something. I guess our short haircuts and our pale legs and torsos make us stick out like sore thumbs. Cut off faded olive-drab utilities-turned-bathing trunks can’t be helping our image as surf studs, either. Screw it. They’re all probably riddled with the galloping clap anyway, and who the hell needs that? Sure would be nice, though.

* * *

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.