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A "FIRST CLASS" OUTHOUSE
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THIS IS THE "SPLINTER-FREE" MODEL |
We all have some
“burning” memories of our service in Vietnam.
Practically all of us particularly remember the “sh**-burning”
detail. As many a Nam vet has
stated: “I can never forget smell of burning sh**.
We also likely remember
that there were no “facilities” in Nam
whatsoever; we had to do the same as the familiar saying about “bears” who
sh** in the woods. In some cases,
there was time enough to dig a “slit trench”.
Other times, you might find a
board, stabilize both ends, and sit over the edge of it, rather than do a
"standing squat" or some other awkward position in order to relieve
yourself. At the more developed
positions, you might find an outhouse with a roof overhead.
The size of the unit might result in building a “two-holer ” {see
photo} or “three holer” to accommodate more troops in a single sh**ting…or
make that “sitting”.
But(t), we can all agree
on one thing…it was never comfortable!!
Hah!
I set out to change all that! As
I was returning from R&R in Hong Kong, I had to go through the usual Customs
screening. I was coming through with
a rather large box. The British
Customs Agent asked me if I had anything to “declare”.
I told him: “Yeah…four toilet seats.”
He didn’t think that
was one damn bit funny! His face got
red and he said in a rather perturbed manner: “You damned Yanks!!
You’re always causing problems for us!
Now…I’m going to ask you again…what’s in the box?”
I replied once again:
“Four toilet seats”. That did
it. He now demands that I open the
box and show him the contents. I
guess I was supposed to be in trouble here.
So, I opened the box, There
they were: FOUR TOILET SEATS!
The Customs Agent now had
a new attitude. He calls over to
another agent and says: “Hey, come look, mate.
This guy has four toilet seats!” My
guess is that they were much more accustomed to seeing visitors returning with
silk ties, tailor-made suits, reel-to-reel tape recorders, Ming vases and the
like. Me?
I got toilet seats.
Little did these Custom
Agents know about the “realities” of doing doo-doo in the war zone…there
weren’t any toilet seats, to say nothing of the absence of toilets.
I returned to my unit as
a “hero” of sorts; I brought a vital “creature comfort” from the “real
world” and into the jungle.
They said I should get the “Brown Star” for my efforts; I was thinking more like the “Distinguished Sh***er Medal.
