Guard Mount, Cu Chi RVN 1969 Part II

So Darjeeling looked at Major Foxx, who, along with his sidekick sargeant, was thoroughly drenched in the chilly monsoon rain, with anticipation and a little bit of disdain for the major's shortsightedness in his poorly chosen schedule. There was a bit of compassion, too, because Darjeeling knew that the major would much rather be stationed at the 25th Infantry Division Headquarters in Honolulu, Hawaii. In a show of kindness and respect, Darjeeling reached up, and looking directly into the eyes of Major Foxx with the cold blue steel look of compassion and lovingkindness that was Darjeelings hallmark, put his index finger underneath the necklace of brightly colored beads and with a flick, broke the string that held them, sending them flying into the face of Sargeant Wurmerscherch and onto the parade field around them.

"Sargeant Worm, er Wurmerscherch, Private E-2 Darjeeling will be assigned to guard the cemetery in the middle of the Battalion grounds. This will be his assigned post for guard mount until further notice. Private Darjeeling is further released from attending guard mount and will report directly to his assigned guard post at 1700 hours. Clear?"

"Clear, Sir!" Sargeant Worm saluted and looked down at his clipboard, his entire body shaking from his dislike of Darjeeling and the easy task he had drawn for guard duty. He reached up and brushed the beads off his uniform, turned on his heel and proceeded down the line, he and the major finishing guard mount just as the torrential monsoon rain finished falling. "Guard Mount, dismissed!" the sargeant called out and everyone broke rank to smoke or do whatever they had time to do before guard duty officially began.

Darjeeling picked up his crate of oranges and walked the block or so to the cemetary, setting the crate inside the ancient wrought iron fence that surrounded the twenty or so headstones that made up the roughly forty foot by forty foot cemetery plot. This was a place of serenity for him and he was grateful for his assignment to guard dead relatives of the man who was indirectly trying to put him in his own grave or at least get him out of the country. But what was he guarding them from? Attack by GI's? Attack by VC? He figured he was guarding them to protect the sanctity of their ancestral burial ground, kind of like the raised burial sites of the Souix in America. A place sacred to those who would honor the dead and prevent the living from desecrating that honor. This was the only assignment the US Army gave him that Darjeeling felt was logical and worthwhile. The only other good thing he had done was to order 100,000 clipboards when he was working the supply side for awhile. The order went through all the way to the stateside commander who authorized large quantities of goods for shipment overseas. Darjeeling felt that if everyone had a clipboard like Sargeant Worm, then everyone would feel as important as he and this would create an oveall positive atmosphere in the Army. He was soon transferred out of supply and was placed on permanent guard duty. He had driven a truck for awhile but was relieved of that duty, too. He liked the cushy runs to Ton Son Nut airforce base and Long Binh because they were free-flow runs without any security or protection required. But he had fallen out of grace with the platoon sargeant who really didn't like Darjeeling. It was because of the body count.

Every evening the platoon would fall out of the hooch to hear the Report of the Day given by the platoon sargeant. This report consisted of a listing of killed and missing in action for "freindlies" and "enemies" , two categories that Darjeeling absolutely refused to recognize. Then each driver would receive his assignment for the next day.

"Friendlies - 25 killed in action, 10 marines, 10 US Army, 5 ARVN (Army, Republic of Viet Nam), Enemies - 200 killed in action, 150 VC, 50 NVA. Missing in Action - 2 US Army, 1 US Navy," First Sargeant Tignor called out.

"Hooray! Hooray! For the US of A!" Darjeeling pumped his fist in the air and yelled. Tignor dropped the paperwork from in front of him and glared at Darjeeling.

"Private Darjeeling, what the hell are you doing? Do you find it amusing that these people have died in service of their country?" Tignor looked angrily in disbelief at Darjeeling who gave him the cold blue steel look right back.

"Well, Sargeant Tignor, you read those stats like it was a baseball game or something. Tomorrow could you just refer to them as the Red Sox and the Cubs?" He knew he was asking for it because Tignor's face turned about as red all over as his alcoholic nose always was. Darjeeling took this as a sign of success. Tignor regained his composure and his papers and began reading driving assignments.

"Private March, pick up a load of Class Six at Long Binh; Private Bugner, M151A1 duty hauling visiting dignitaries, make sure your boots are shined, you can look at Private Darjeeling's to see how they are not to look." And on and on the assgnments were given until he arrived at the last driver, Darjeeling, and the last assignment. "Private Darjeeling, hook up with the First of the Twenty Seventh Wolfhounds, hauling Bangalore torpedoes to Fire Support Base Redleg." Just about everyone turned and looked at Darjeeling who was staring at his boots. Finally, he looked up.

"Thanks, Sargeant Tignor, I'll be happy doing my duty by upping the body count for tomorrow's Report of the Day," Darjeeling burned holes through Sargeant Tignor as the group broke up and scattered for the evening. He glared at the sargeant until the sargeant turned smartly on his heels, and smiling, went to turn in his assignment sheet at the headquarters hooch.

"The worst run, the worst load, and now the worst truck. What ya going to do, man?" Darjeeling's friend Hector just stared at him.

"Nothing I can do but drive, Hector, old buddy." Darjeeling made his way to check out the deuce and a half they called Old Gray Mare, the worst truck in the line. He smiled at Sgt. Tignor as he stepped up to the desk. There was an odd look on the sargeant's face this morning.

"Darjeeling, I don't know who you know or who you are related to but your assignment has been diverted for today and you are to report to Major Foxx's HQ asap for further assignment, dismissed." Tignor didn't even look up.

Darjeeling snapped to attention, giving the sargeant a British salute with palm facing outwards. "Suh!" he said and turned on his heels and took off for the hooch. And that is how he had ended up in a series of odd jobs around the battalion area. Jobs such as burning shit out of the latrines; honcho for the "little people", Vietnmese from the town of Cu Chi who worked on base, and ultimately working his way up to bartender of the Officer's Club, where he worked until he was fired for not warning the Officer's of an upcoming tear gassing perped by some of his hoochmates.