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Authors: Donald E. Zlotnik
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checked the
perimeter in front of their bunker. The red-clay-dyed streams of water still rushed through the rows of barbed wire off the
hill the camp was built on. Engineer stakes had been washed away all around the perimeter and huge gaps had appeared in the
defenses. A lot of work was going to have to be done before dark to make the camp secure again. Warner turned around and looked
back at the hooches. The building next to the Recon Company’s orderly room had its roof torn off and the open area between
the hooches and the fighting bunkers was littered with sheets of roofing tin.
He felt his erection pressing against the coolness of his wet pants and a rush of sexual excitement sent shivers over his
body. He looked down at the dark hole in the roof and could hear Woods’s muffled voice talking to someone. Warner unzipped
his pants and released his pride. His poncho still covered him as he stood watching the rest of the company leave their hooches
and look around at the mess. He masturbated slowly so that it wouldn’t show under the poncho. It was almost erotic standing
there on the bunker overlooking the destruction from the storm.
Captain Youngbloode had been up most of the night working on the company’s paperwork. He had found boxes of awards that hadn’t
been forwarded to the troops who had DEROSed back to the States and orders for promotions that should have been sent to their
new units. The storm had hit just as he had finished and locked the stacks of paperwork up in the steel wall locker. He had
spent the rest of the night checking the company area and had nearly been decapitated by a sheet of flying tin. When he had
returned to his quarters at the back of the orderly room, he found that one of the folding shutters had been left propped
open and everything he owned was soaked. He opened the Samsonite suitcase that contained mostly military manuals and removed
a sealed bottle of Seagram’s Seven.
“I think I deserve a little of this!” He spoke to himself and poured a double shot of the whiskey in the small silver cup
his wife had given him as a present when he had been promoted to captain. He held the cup up in the air and toasted his wife.
“To you, my dear!”
A knock on his door drew his attention away from the bottle. He screwed the cap back on and closed the suitcase. “Yes?”
“First Sergeant sir … I’m just checking to see if you’re up yet.”
“I’m up, First Sergeant … give me a minute to dry off a bit and then we need to talk.”
“Yes sir.”
Sergeant Arnason opened the plywood door to the bunker and stepped back inside when a pool of water rushed in. “Shit!” He
tried closing the door again but was too late. “It’s a fucking ocean out there!”
“Believe me, it’s a lot drier in here than it was out there last night!” Woods stood on the layer of full ammunition boxes
that covered the raised floor. Arnason had designed the floor so that there was a four-inch gap between the pallets and the
ground, and then on top of the pallets he had placed a layer of green M-60 ammo cans and boxes of hand grenades. It was a
smart idea because the waterproof cans protected the ammo and during an attack the ammunition was very handy. All you had
to do was reach down and remove part of the floor.
“Did the captain mention anything to you about going out on a shakedown patrol?” Arnason spoke to Woods.
“He told me yesterday that something like that was in the wind. A five-patrol operation.” Woods pulled off his soaked undershorts,
held them out the firing port nearest to his bunk, and wrung the water from them. He left his wet clothes in the open firing
slit and started drying off with his towel. “Man, I’m not going to take another shower again as long as I’m in Vietnam! Look
at this shit!” He held his hand out. “My fingers are wrinkled from all that damn water up there. All this rain is going to
give us crotch
perimeter in front of their bunker. The red-clay-dyed streams of water still rushed through the rows of barbed wire off the
hill the camp was built on. Engineer stakes had been washed away all around the perimeter and huge gaps had appeared in the
defenses. A lot of work was going to have to be done before dark to make the camp secure again. Warner turned around and looked
back at the hooches. The building next to the Recon Company’s orderly room had its roof torn off and the open area between
the hooches and the fighting bunkers was littered with sheets of roofing tin.
He felt his erection pressing against the coolness of his wet pants and a rush of sexual excitement sent shivers over his
body. He looked down at the dark hole in the roof and could hear Woods’s muffled voice talking to someone. Warner unzipped
his pants and released his pride. His poncho still covered him as he stood watching the rest of the company leave their hooches
and look around at the mess. He masturbated slowly so that it wouldn’t show under the poncho. It was almost erotic standing
there on the bunker overlooking the destruction from the storm.
Captain Youngbloode had been up most of the night working on the company’s paperwork. He had found boxes of awards that hadn’t
been forwarded to the troops who had DEROSed back to the States and orders for promotions that should have been sent to their
new units. The storm had hit just as he had finished and locked the stacks of paperwork up in the steel wall locker. He had
spent the rest of the night checking the company area and had nearly been decapitated by a sheet of flying tin. When he had
returned to his quarters at the back of the orderly room, he found that one of the folding shutters had been left propped
open and everything he owned was soaked. He opened the Samsonite suitcase that contained mostly military manuals and removed
a sealed bottle of Seagram’s Seven.
“I think I deserve a little of this!” He spoke to himself and poured a double shot of the whiskey in the small silver cup
his wife had given him as a present when he had been promoted to captain. He held the cup up in the air and toasted his wife.
“To you, my dear!”
A knock on his door drew his attention away from the bottle. He screwed the cap back on and closed the suitcase. “Yes?”
“First Sergeant sir … I’m just checking to see if you’re up yet.”
“I’m up, First Sergeant … give me a minute to dry off a bit and then we need to talk.”
“Yes sir.”
Sergeant Arnason opened the plywood door to the bunker and stepped back inside when a pool of water rushed in. “Shit!” He
tried closing the door again but was too late. “It’s a fucking ocean out there!”
“Believe me, it’s a lot drier in here than it was out there last night!” Woods stood on the layer of full ammunition boxes
that covered the raised floor. Arnason had designed the floor so that there was a four-inch gap between the pallets and the
ground, and then on top of the pallets he had placed a layer of green M-60 ammo cans and boxes of hand grenades. It was a
smart idea because the waterproof cans protected the ammo and during an attack the ammunition was very handy. All you had
to do was reach down and remove part of the floor.
“Did the captain mention anything to you about going out on a shakedown patrol?” Arnason spoke to Woods.
“He told me yesterday that something like that was in the wind. A five-patrol operation.” Woods pulled off his soaked undershorts,
held them out the firing port nearest to his bunk, and wrung the water from them. He left his wet clothes in the open firing
slit and started drying off with his towel. “Man, I’m not going to take another shower again as long as I’m in Vietnam! Look
at this shit!” He held his hand out. “My fingers are wrinkled from all that damn water up there. All this rain is going to
give us crotch
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