Jigs in the Ammo Shack

(A Vietnam War story about Flies, 1971)

It was a warm afternoon inside the rounds dump, in the bullets shack-consisting of a couple of rooms, walls made out of hdf, floors or inlays of long wooden boards-flat timber regarding the most element, you might see through their cracks, put crooked alongside one another; also the particular shack was a new smite lopsided, nearly wobbly, and really broken. Planted in four by several beams underneath the floorboards, about a half foot high, numerous soft white sand that surrounded it, providing a playground intended for the lizards to be able to engage in recreation, unnoticed.

I taken a semi old ‘Stars and Strip, ‘ magazine with me when I got to go to the rounds shack (where us all soldiers did the paperwork for aide and distributing of ammunition towards the convoys arriving from several locations in the neighbourhood.

.45 acp ammo carried that will old ‘Stars and even Strips, ‘ magazine for a month, until an innovative one came out there, and used it to swish aside flies. These were just about everywhere in the rounds shack-we were infested with these, with their very own buzzing around since if we were invaders: fat and even thin bellied documents; some dark some others light shads involving dark, long and short winged jigs, biting your arms and face, and ears, behind your own neck, swarming all-around you, sneaking up your shirt sleeves, diving into your eyes as if they have been small punishing missiles, trained by the Vietcong to annoy an individual. -me, us!

There are dead or declining flies, also strolling flies on every one of the three desks in the two rooms with the shack, filling the particular atmosphere with putrid debris, aiming toward one’s mouth, but quite content whenever they missed, and simply landed on your own lips. They contaminated everything, clinging, and even climbing, and also a few crawling, within their speediest gait possible, especially the big fat bellied ones, they’d try to get away but I would swat them, regrettably leaving a dumpy-bloody mess, I really tried out to simply scare them away, but like I explained before-or implied, these were already brained rinsed and ready in order to sacrifice their lifestyles for the trigger.

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