Day LlV

Base Zoo

     The next morning the first shirt got the first airmen he found. Guys on their day off, hanging around the day room. Some of them didn’t have a clue. He sent them up on the roof to clean the mess. Later in the day he assembled everyone out on the grass, in parade formation, and chewed us out.

     “If I eva see any a y’all out hea wit a bea, ya sweet ass is MINE!” He screamed.

     We lost our drinking privileges in the barracks, we couldn’t even drink in the privacy of our rooms. If we were caught with a beer anywhere near the barracks, we were on report. Luck was with us, nobody ratted, but we had to endure the disdain of our pals. They knew who we were, just as we knew Gerb was the one who screwed up.

     After that whenever a group of us got together, we joked about the general, and his V.I.Ps flying around in the chopper over our roof, and we cracked up. In hind sight it was funny. Can you imagine the proud brigadier, flying around the base with a major and lieutenant general, maybe two or three of them. They come upon our barracks, and…

      “Wat da hail?” one of them says to the brigadier, as he points point to our roof.

     The proverbial shit hits the fan, the commander’s face turns candy apple red, and he goes…

     “Ah ba ba ba ba!”

     “Aha ha ha!”

     “He probably shit hesef, man!”

     “Haw haw haw!”

     “Yea man, dem genwals pwobably ribbed his ass, man!”

     “Yea man, wit out moicy, man.”

     “Wat kinna zoo ya gots hea Hoiman?”

     “Oh, it’s jest da base fwat house, suh!” another would add.

     “He, hee hee heeee!”