Flies in the Ammo Shack

  Flies in the Ammo Shack

 

(A Vietnam War tale about Flies, 1971)

 

It was a blistering evening in the ammunition dump, inside the ammunition shack-comprising of two rooms, dividers made from pressed wood, floors or decorates of long wooden sheets level lumber generally, you could .450 bushmaster ammo see through their breaks, set warped close by each other; additionally the shack was a destroy disproportionate, practically unbalanced, and extremely broken. Planted on four by four shafts under the wood planks, about a half foot high, among the delicate white sand that encompassed it, giving a jungle gym for the reptiles to participate in amusement, unseen.

 

I conveyed a semi old ‘Stars and Strips,’ magazine with me when I needed to go to the ammunition shack (where us troopers did our desk work for assignments and circulating of ammo to the guards showing up from a few areas inside the area.

 

I conveyed that old ‘Stars and Strips,’ magazine for a month, until another one came out, and utilized it to wash away flies. They were wherever in the ammunition shack-we were pervaded with them, with their humming around as though we were trespassers: fat and flimsy bellied documents; some dull others light shads of dim, long and short winged flies, gnawing your hands and face, and ears, behind your neck, amassing around you, creeping up your shirt sleeves, plunging at you as though they were little rebuffing rockets, prepared by the Vietcong to disturb you.- me, us!

 

There were dead or kicking the bucket flies, likewise strolling flies on every one of the three work areas inside the two rooms of the shack, filling the climate with foul garbage, pointing towards one’s mouth, yet very substance assuming that they missed, and just arrived all the rage. They debased everything, sticking, and climbing, and surprisingly some creeping, in their quickest walk conceivable, particularly the gigantic bellied ones, they’d attempt to move away yet I’d smack them, tragically leaving a dumpy-bleeding wreck, I genuinely attempted to just frighten them off, however like I said previously or inferred, they were at that point brained washed and prepared to forfeit their lives for the purpose.

 

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