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late in the War. combat operations over.
and i stood there in the sun while smoke drifted past my face.
and began to gag.
grabbed a wooden fence post and dumped the diesel.
a sizzle.
reminiscent of bacon or a porterhouse.
the smell: indescribable.
like food.
baking.
frying.
burning.
but wrong.
oh so fucking wrong.
burning human shit. excrement.
a horrendous job.
something akin to preforming colonics at a fat camp.
or burning genital warts of homeless hookers.
and as this task was passed day to day. from platoon to platoon. i knew my day would come.
it did.
the Corpsman directed me in the procedure.
he was rather enthusiastic.
quite odd.
a Filipino, and he told me to line the barrels in a row.
one meter apart.
when your shit is covered and aligned, pour approximately one-inch of diesel into the barrel of shit.
grab you stick.
to stir.
and a wad of TP.
set ablaze the TP.
throw the TP into the barrel.
stand back.
stir intermittently in order to reach the bottom recesses of the barrel.
until the brown-green-corn-kerneled-khaki-glutinous shit has evolved into an inoffensive, almost welcoming fluffy white ash.
so i did.
and as the crackle of shit on the open flame produced smoke, i mused my future.
sure can't get any worse than this, i thought.
and it hasn't.
yet.
but standing there with my shirt off, soaking up the Iraqi rays, the incessant buzz of flies which periodically landed on my face, and the cremated remains of the camps colons wafted past my face, i couldn't help but wonder what the fuck i was doing there.
in this fucked up country.
with its fucked up people.
and its fucked customs.
and its fucked up laws.
no booze.
no women.
no sex.
no fun.
i mean, a man can be asked to burn shit, to kill people, to blow up houses, but jesus christ, doesn't he deserve a beer or maybe a woman-that isn't covered in facial hair, once in a while?
troop morale, yes?
but They opted for letters from our nations youth.
little suzy and billy. they love me. they "want to kiss the pain away."
thats what she said. this little ten year-old.
pain?
"what the hell does this ankle-biter know about pain" I said.
i was mean then.
meaner than i am now.
a different person.
i stood motionless in front of these cauldrons of human waste.
and a mouse climbed a barrel that wasn't burning too much.
smelled something he liked, i guess.
and of course, he climbed too high and fell in.
into a vat of burning shit.
i let him burn.
wasn't gonna chance reaching in.
not me.
later that day i washed my face and sat by myself.
read the "iceman cometh."
finished it actually. and something came over me.
i didn't care.
about anything.
or anyone.
or going home.
or school.
or...
a character must change, my teachers say.
evolve.
through experiences. trials. battles.
and i think i have.
changed, that is.
i think.
i hope.
