Jigs in the Ammo Shack

(A Vietnam War story regarding Flies, 1971)

It was a very hot afternoon in the rounds dump, within the bullets shack-consisting of 2 rooms, walls made out of hdf, floors or vase of long solid wood boards-flat timber intended for the most element, you might see through their cracks, placed crooked alongside one another; also the shack was some sort of smite lopsided, nearly wobbly, and extremely broken. Planted in four by several beams beneath the floorboards, about a fifty percent foot high, between the soft white sand that surrounded it, providing a playground for the lizards to be able to engage in excitement, unnoticed.

I carried a semi old ‘Stars and Pieces, ‘ magazine beside me when I got to visit the rounds shack (where us all soldiers did each of our paperwork for aide and distributing regarding ammunition for the convoys arriving from many locations in the area.

450 bushmaster ammo carried that will old ‘Stars plus Strips, ‘ magazine for a 30 days, until an innovative one came out and about, and used this to swish apart flies. These people were just about everywhere in the ammo shack-we were infested with them, with their particular buzzing around while if we were invaders: fat and even thin bellied data files; some dark some others light shads of dark, long plus short winged flies, biting your hands and face, in addition to ears, behind the neck, swarming about you, sneaking the shirt sleeves, snorkeling into your sight as though they were small punishing missiles, trained with the Vietcong to annoy you. -me, us!

There was dead or passing away flies, also strolling flies on each of the three desks inside the two rooms from the shack, filling the particular atmosphere with putrid debris, aiming toward one’s mouth, yet quite content whenever they missed, and merely landed on your own lips. They contaminated everything, clinging, in addition to climbing, and in many cases several crawling, inside their most effective gait possible, specifically the big extra fat bellied ones, that they had try to find away but I would swat them, unfortunately leaving a dumpy-bloody mess, I seriously attempted to simply discourage them away, but like I explained before-or implied, these were already brained laundered and ready to sacrifice their lives for the trigger.