You're in the
Army Now
Part One – Fleeing the Fleas
by Don Drewniak
It was June 6th,
1968, my nine-month “anniversary” in
the U.S. Army. Three months to go before becoming
ineligible to be sent to Vietnam as I would have
less than a year left of service time. I was
stationed at Fort Gordon, Georgia in the 385th
Signal Company. Approximately half of the 385th
had returned from Vietnam and were counting days
until being discharged. The rest of us woke up
every morning hoping not to get orders to go
there.
I rented a
small trailer five days earlier, one of four in a
wooded area some two miles from 385th
headquarters. I planned to spend the weekend in
the trailer drinking beer and watching one of two
available stations on a small black-and-white
television.
Next on the
agenda was a one-week leave beginning on the 13th
and a flight back home to Worcester,
Massachusetts. My wife, Dolores, had all but
wrapped up her teaching for the year. We planned
to stuff as many of her belongings as possible
into our 1964 Mustang fastback, and with our
Siamese cat, Phaedra, leave on the 15th and drive
in straight through to the trailer.
At the end of
my duty day on Friday, the 8th, I changed into
civilian clothes and walked to the PX where I
picked up a six-pack of beer and a small amount
of food. It was off to the trailer and away from
the barracks (or so I thought).
The trailer
was located in Hephzibah, which abuts Augusta. It
consisted of a combination kitchen/living room,
one bedroom, a bathroom and a second floor. A
second floor? Well, sort of. It was accessed by a
wall-attached ladder. The sole contents were
three twin-sized mattresses. The only way to
access them was to crawl as the distance from
floor to ceiling was less than four feet. Daytime
temperature was consistently over one hundred in
the room.
Upon entering
the trailer, I put five of the beer cans into a
small refrigerator and one in the freezer for a
quick chill. I turned on the air conditioner only
to find out that the air coming out of it was no
more than a few degrees cooler than the warm air
in the trailer.
The one saving
grace was that the trailer was surrounded by
trees and was in the shade for most of each day.
I stripped down to just a pair of shorts, turned
on the television, grabbed the beer from the
freezer and plopped down on a two-seat couch
located below the a/c. Because of the short
length of the couch, I rested my head on one end
of the couch and dangled my feet over the other
end. Ah, peace and quiet!
I was working
on the third beer when my feet and ankles began
to itch and burn.
Fleas!
An army of
them was feasting on me. I brushed them off and
after gathering my clothes, stepped outside and
shook each piece until I was certain the fleas
were gone. I ran back to the PX and bought two
bottles of rubbing alcohol. Back in the barrack,
I spent the next four hours or so rubbing my feet
and ankles with the alcohol while cursing the
owner of the trailer. On a “positive”
note, I provided entertainment for the few guys
who hadn’t gone into Augusta to one of the
local bars.
It was back to
the PX by eight the next morning where I bought
another six-pack of beer and two cans of Raid.
Once at the trailer, I opened the door and
blasted away with both cans.
Take that
you rotten…
It was back to
Gordon. I returned to the trailer mid-afternoon.
After opening all the windows, turning on the a/c
fan and leaving the door open, I sat in a chair
sipping beer in a small, screened-in porch
attached to the front of the trailer for two
hours or so before going back inside. The smell
from the Raid was faint. I spent the better part
of a half-hour sweeping the floor and then wet-mopping
it. After wiping down appliances, walls and
anything else that had a solid surface, I brought
sheets, pillow cases, towels, etc. outside and
pinned them to two clotheslines. Finally, I left
the windows open and walked back to the fort.
I enjoyed a
quiet day at the trailer on Sunday reading the
voluminous New York Times in
the morningand watching television in the
afternoon. Religious programming ran all that
morning on the two TV stations. One for blacks
and one for whites.
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