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Chapter 2: Welcome
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Two Welcome Yeah, cmon at!you big strong men Uncle Sam needs a he/pin' hand. He's got himselfin a terrible jam Way down yonder in Virt Nam. - "{ Fed Likr I'm Fixin'to Die Rag" -CountryJor and the Fish It was night. Outside a light mist floated over everything and because we had to keep all three windows open (at exactly the same SpOt), that same mist crept softly inside every room. It covered tbe desks, the wall lockers, and settled into the blankets ofour beds. It smelled ofsulfur, dust, and exhaust fumes, and it wormed its way into our joints and our minds. No one slept comfortably, so we all heard the boots coming up the stairs even though he was being quiet. And then we all heard him when he walked into tbe first room and rolled somebody out. And we all heard him when he quietly asked the first man what the fuck he was doing here. And we all heard the first man reply that he was here because he wanted to be a soldier. And we all heard him laugh and say that his first victim was too much ofa pussy to ever be an Infantry platoon leader, so he better go back to sleep and get his beauty rest. I heard it all too as I lay in my bed feeling and seeing the mist in the shadow of the hallway light. And I heard the boots walk Out of the first room into the next and the next and on down the hall. They followed the same pattern. 1 felt a strange sensation in my crotch as if the mist were affecting me there. I wondered jf I were allergic {O something in the air, bur before I gO[ a chance to think more about jt, the boots were in my room and the light exploded the darkness and the mist. Budwell, Trailer, and I jumped Out of our bunks into a clumsy position ofattention. Budwell, I was surprised to sec, was nude. The owner ofthe boots noticed, too, and he smiled as he looked up and down. While he looked at Budwell and Trailer, I looked at him closely. He was a thin, wiry man of medium height. His heavily starched fatigues clung to him, and I wondered how anyone could get army issue clothes to be anything but baggy. He was a first lieutenant, and he no doubt was not old except that he was completely bald, his head shining under the brigllllights in the room. On his name tag sewn above the pocket and beneath an Airborne patch, I read the name: Rancek. Rancek seemed to slither toward us, his arms tight against his side, fists clenched and tucked against his buttocks. He moved up close ro Trailer, looking him over without comment. His baldness in the light made his face look like a gray globe, blighted and pasey. His eyes in shadows were the color of tarnished brass. As he stood silently looking at us, he rocked up on the toes of his spit-shined combat boots. This sudden movement made him appear ta1ler--elongated. But when he moved closer, it was clear that he was probably no taller than five-eight. He continued ro walk around the room looking at our gear and chen remrning to each one of us, the rocking-up-on-toes motion continuing as well. Finally, he stOpped before Trailer. Silent for a moment, he rocked up on his tOes and looked closely at Trailer, who looked pleased with che attention. "What's your name, dud?~ sneered Rancek. "Sir, Candidate Trailer!" "Whatthefuckareyoudoinghere, Trailer?" "Sir, Candidate Trailer, I'm here," Trailer answered gleefully, "to become an Infantry combat platoon leader and go to Nam and kill gooks, sir!" "Y'are, huh? So you're gung ho." "Yes sir, gung ho!" "Shut up, dud, I'll (ell you when to speak, you piece of shit. And I'll tell you this now-you won't make it here. Do you hear me? You won't make it here, because you're the kind of dumbfuck who'll get his ass and his men's asses blown off the first step you take our of Saigon. And I'm 18 Fort Btnning Blf«$ [54.225.1.66] Project MUSE (2024-03-19 12:30 GMT) going to make it my personal rask to see that no asshole is leading the platoon on my right. You...