When I came back home, after 18 months in Vietnam, I still had about a year to serve my country in the U S Army. The people who decide what you’ll be doing with yourself when you return had decided I could best serve my country by dressing in all black, like the enemy and attacking our troops at night, in the winter. In the Washington forests of Fort Lewis, Washington. This was supposed to train them for being attacked at night by people dressed in all black. I didn’t see any snow in Vietnam when I was there nor did I ever see tempertures around freezing yet here we are training troops in all the wrong conditions.
So, I decide to find a better way to serve. I saw an ad in the “Army Times” announcing that the Escort Department needed a Buck Sargent to Represent The President of The United States of America and a Greatful Nation for the services rendered for somebodies loved one, that I would be burying. That is part of the little speach the body escort gives to the next of kin after the 21 gun salute and while “Taps” is playing in the background. I’ve had sweet little old ladies spit in my face, I’ve been slapped and hit with the flag.
I applied for the job, went down to Oakland Escort Division for an interview and was chosen for the job. This job was unbelievably cool. I was allowed to live at home and not in a barracks or family housing on a base. I rented a place in El Cerrito a couple blocks off San Pablo Blvd. Once a week the army would call and say I had an assignment the next day for Coco Beach Florida or Flint, Michigan or San Diego, California. It was always a different place. The army would have a sedan pick me up at my house, take me to the airport to meet, and inspect the remains. I would made sure the body was loaded properly for the type of plane we were in that day. There were so many different types of airplane and I would have to remember to have the remains facing either to the front or the rear. I won’t even begin to tell you what happens if you get it wrong. Think body fluids and you’ll get an idea if the importance of getting it right. Then I was required to be the first one on the aircraft and the first one off. I was required to ride first class, as the seat is closer to the door.
Upon arrival in the deceased’s city, I would have a limo and a herst awaiting. I would be the first off the plane and would go below the make sure that everyone involved would show respect and treat the remains with the utmost respect during the unloading and transfer to the mortuaries vehicle. The Funeral Director would introduce himself and we would discuss the arrangements for the ceremony. If the family wanted a military service or not. If so, I would contact the closest Army base and have them send out a firing squad and a bugular plus flowers and flag and most importantly the Insurance settlement papers. Every guy that got shot or blown away got a check for $10,000. That was usually a not so fun part of the whole thing. You would be horrified to hear some of the stories about the Insurance check and who was entitled to it. The soldier had taken care of that a long time ago and I just had to get a signature from that person only.
Most of these assignments got to be routine with one and sometimes two or three per week. I was told by the First Sargent in charge of the Escorts that it would get easier each time I had to present the flag, but it didn’t get easier. It was depressing. Sometimes the family didn’t want a military funeral and I could just hang out at my hotel/motel until after the funeral and get that signature and I was off to the airport and home for another one.
The Escorts were all very sharp dressed and spit shined shoes and polished brass and conducted thereselves with dignity, class and military barring. We were a select group of soldiers that had distinguished ourselves in battle and were proud to serve as an Escort. The pay was unreal for a Sargent as they gave us TDY pay for everyday plus our pay as sargents. So, it was an outstanding job about a year until I finished my enlistment.
I met another Escort and we were exchanging stories about our latest conquests while serving as Escorts. I found out that most of the Escorts had the same type of “Luck” with the ladies that I was having. It turns out that funerals are a great place to meet the ladies. Who would have figured?
I have some interesting things happen while on these assignments, but my trip to a little town on the boarder of Texas and Louisiana is probably the funniest one I can talk about. I was given the assignment to escort a fallen hero home that turned out to be a black kid. The Army would usually try to put a black escort with a black fallen warrior. And vice versa if it were a white kid and white escort. A Mexcan kid, a Mexican escort. Well, this time there were no black escorts available to take this assignment so I was going to a little hick town, all black and they was pissed cause the Army drafted their son and killed him. I can’t blame them for feeling that way either. I’m not supposed to say shit if they come down on me. I have to stand and take it.
Before I left Oakland the escort that I had met the week previously was there and we were talking about what to do if we were given the time off at a funeral where the escort wasn’t needed. He said he usually takes a valium and kicks back in his hotel/motel and reads, goes to bed early and he’s good the next morning for the insurance business before heading back to Oakland. I asked him where I could get a couple of those valiums he mentioned. He said “Hey, I have some on me…. here take these with you for a nice quiet relaxing evening in with a book.” I told him”Far out” and “Thanks” .
I’m now down in Louisiana and the funeral director tells me the family doesn’t want a military funeral and I was off for the next couple days in Louisiana then after the funeral I could split. I decided to take the Valium that the other escort gave me and I would take a bath and go to bed early. I got out of the shower and was drying myself off when I notice a little bug or something tiny moving in my pubic region. As I inspected the rest of myself I was shocked to see a little bug or something crawling on my arm hair too. I took out my razor from my all leather official Escorts grooming kit and proceeded to hunt for these bugs or whatever they are. I decide it best to just shave off the hair on my arms, then I proceeded to shave my chest, legs, head……. Yes I shaved my entire head. I saw these little bugs or something crawling all over my hairy regions. I shaved of my eyebrows! As I’m standing on the counter top looking between my legs with a mirror shaving my ass. I hear a loud knock on the door. “Sargent Buster’, ” Sargent Buster are you okay?” I must have not been paying attention to the sound of the funeral director banging on the door for five minutes. I looked at myself in the mirror and was shocked to see this bald, eyebrowless freak looking back at me. Bang, bang, “Sargent Buster, the family wants you down at the funeral parlor in twenty minutes for a ceremony.” I tried to paste some hair that had fallen on the floor onto my eyebrow area with some shaving cream so I could answer the door. I grabbed the bedspread and wrapped it around me and over my head so that only my face, with glued on eyebrows from the fallen hair was showing . I opened the door and the funeral director said “What the hell happened to you?”
Well, it looks like the escort I got the valium from, couldn’t tell valium from LSD and I was having a full blown trip while delivering a black kid to his hating parents down in some Bayou town in Louisiana and now I gotta face the family and friends at the funeral parlor in twenty minutes with hair stuck to my eyebrow area and the look of terror in my eyes and I don’t know what the heck is going on. It was some night to remember. I passed on the flag to his mother the next day and ended up staying with the family for an extra day. I confessed everything to them about the valium mixup and they died laughing along with the funeral director and everyone else. What a trip that was indeed. These people saw I was in trouble and they helped me during a very sad time in their life and I’ll never forget them. There must be a lesson here somewhere, but for the heck of me I don’t see it.
Short Stories
Comments are closed.
Likes
885 Views
Share:
This was an absolutely wild story. I’m glad the family was nice to you and helped you out. I, too, fail to see the lesson right now.