Free Red Flags by Juris Jurjevics Page B

the better. Then again, no way was I getting close enough for the VC to smell me. John got in his Bronco and drove out of the compound. Checkman came along the walkway heading toward the perimeter.
    "You gotta see it, sir. Come quick."
    "See what?"
    "The house trailer, sir. It's got a real bathroom, air conditioning, kitchen, fridge."
    "We're getting a deluxe stateside trailer here?"
    "No, sir. The USAID compound next door is."
    Every off-duty enlisted was headed over to the big event, as were several officers. An unkempt airman named Lewis came up behind us, trailed by his pet pig.
    "Rut, sit," he commanded, and the pig did, sort of. More like flopped. "Good pig," Lewis said, and scaled the wall of perforated steel planks and sandbags. Settling on top, he gave Westy a hand up. More men stood atop a tall bunker.
    Westy said, "Not too exposed for you out here, Airman Lewis? I know you're short. You maybe oughtn't ta risk yourself."
    Lewis shrugged. "I felt a moral obligation." He tossed his pet a piece of bread. "I'd hate myself if I didn't. I'll be back in the world soon enough."
    Westy hooted. "Son, this is the world. Back there, that's Disneyland."
    On the USAID side the tennis-playing preppy, now in chino pants and short-sleeved checked shirt, paced in front of their little residence, looking at his watch and peering at the sky through his horn-rims. Mr. Ex-Military, similarly attired, leaned against a post, hand raised to his forehead, shading his eyes. Soon we heard the thump of heavy rotors.
    Westy pointed heavenward. "The Shit Hook!"
    The Chinook was less than half a mile out, a large rectangle slung beneath it.
    The enlisted men stood as the copter hovered and descended, easing the sling earthward. The rotor wash whipped us, raising a growing storm of grit. We all squinted.
    "It doesn't take much to draw a crowd in Cheo Reo," I observed.
    "No, sir," Westy said. "You gotta take your entertainment as it comes."
    At a height of maybe fifty feet, the cables unlatched and the trailer plunged. The onlookers roared and whistled their delight as it came down.
    The preppy danced around in agitation but that didn't keep the luxurious quarters from crashing hard into the dry earth with a great noise and a cloud of dirt. Wall panels flew off as the trailer crumpled. Coolant and propane sprayed the air before fizzling out. He flailed his arms and yelled something we couldn't hear over the rotors. The USAID tough guy surveyed the proceedings impassively. He didn't look like someone you'd want to dig you a well.
    "Did you see that?" Westy exclaimed. "Did you see?" He smacked palms with another soldier. "That was some shit."
    Airman Lewis looked impressed. "Definitely persons in need of guidance up in that chopper."
    "I thought that USAID motherfucker what's in charge was gonna stroke out," Westy said.
    We all got down and walked back into the center of the compound, the pig following Lewis. Checkman and I trailed after them toward the bungalows.
    "What was that about?" I said to Checkman.
    "Oh ... ah, that was the latest attempt at delivery. The same ... ah ... accident keeps happening. Third time in a row."
    "Almost as good as a drive-in," Westy said over his shoulder. "She-eet, somebody somewhere's got a serious case of the ass for USAID."
    "Can't understand why," Lewis replied. "Maybe we should bring them a meat-loaf casserole to console 'em. You know, welcome them to the neighb."
    "Now, that's cruel," said Westy. "Really uncalled-for, Airman Lewis. That meat loaf is lethal. You know the survival rules we learned in Basic—don't drink untreated water, don't eat the mess sergeant's meat loaf."
    The pig trotted on past them.
    Â 
    Our gear lay on Ruchevsky's bunk. Blood expander, dressings, morphine Syrettes, eight pounds of water in four canteens, grenades, smoke—the usual. VC ammo vests that fit high on the chest. Hammocks much lighter and better than our regular issue. Counterfeit NVA boots made on Okinawa for the