21:41
Faizan
Vietnam, life was cruel, for the rat population on Cam Ranh Bay, at Alpha Dump. Tons of ammunition were kept partially underground with a mound atop. Scarcely did we ever open the iron doors to that enclosure, save it needed to be ventilated, and cleaned, and inspected every so often, usually every three to five months, thereabouts. And to be frank, I counted days as they slipped by closer and closer to that deadlines, and checked the duty roster to see if I was on this unfortunate duty assignment, of cleaning it out; it was a four man job.
Sergeant Crusher, his real name I forgot, but he looked like the Wrestler they called The Crusher, in the 1960s, who I went to see him once at the Minnesota St. Paul, Armory, wrestle, he was a crowd pleaser.
Matter of fact Sergeant Crusher and I once got into it once, it was a harsh fight. Anyhow he was tasked to oversee that the job got done, and I, being a Corporal, at the time, was his second in command, and we had two Privates, all tasked to do this, duty, one that no one, wished to do.
"We have five thousand tons of ammo in this storage vault (more liken to an enclosure, the size of an Olympic swimming pool) and believe me not, hundreds of rats!"
He told us straight out, as we stood inches away from the locked doors, two large doors.
"There is no diminutive way rats can escape once inside this enclosure, it is a steel-walled prison inside there for the most part, and the few ventilators that are here and there, are protected with firm wire-mesh. Although some of the smaller rats chew their way in but never leave; the ventilators are quite small themselves. The rats increase and multiply over this long period. So they become imprisoned in this storage unit, eat the wood crates, and so on, and then turn to cannibalism. And by the time we do our inspection and inventory, the majority of the rats will be dead, yet those that are left, the survivors, and it will be a score of them, will be huge colleagues: as Darwin said: the strongest and the fittest, and the most fiercest."
Still standing by the doors, I could hear the rats passing back and forth, going on like: squealing and crying. Then as the sergeant put the key into the lock of the door, said abruptly:
"Woops, I forgot to mention, there is an attached room to the ammo vault, additional and luckier rats will have found their way into that room to steal food, we keep can rations there, and they gnaw their teeth into the cans to the point they break their teeth, you'll notice tooth fragments everywhere. There will be a blood-splash all about, and that is what we'll have to clean up.
"Which reminds me, may I suggest you all stand to one side, so the rats do not feel cornered when I open up the doors, we don't want them to think we are trying to trap them again, let them run, they will be the father of all rats, and by measurement, some will be scaled at twenty inches from the tip of their tail to the tip of their nose. Have no pity on them if they challenge you during their escape. If you feel compelled to use your M-16, go ahead and do so. If possible shoot once in the air, and then at them, and don't shoot one another in a frenzy."
And when he opened the doors, we all looked slowly toward that ominous blackness, in what was quite distinctly an active rat-hive, and out thundered a cloud of dust, blackness, and blobs and flashes of reddish-brown, to dark brown, to complete black rats, it at first left us in hushes, aloft their rumbles, the voices hundreds of feet running every-which-way, Crusher stepped back in his usual casual way, and gave no orders at all, save in low conversation with himself, we were all compelled to shoot at them, regardless if or not they were about to challenge us. And I know not why-it must have been spontaneous with all of us (except Crusher) -in that we wanted none to cling onto us, to avoid being dragged away with the horde; our hands went for the trigger of the rifles, and my hand gripped and pressed the trigger, on automatic. We were all deafened by the reverberation and boom of the rifles and chaos of the unceasing rats' diabolical thunder, it was a bizarre sight. It was one audacious orgy, of red-blood. They came out as if there had been a color-riot inside what might be related to a bunker under fire, while others, more beat-up, whom were like gigantic serpents, crowed out through the two doors, per near one on top of another, bitten half to pieces, like ragdolls, the fur on their backs torn off showing flesh.
Sergeant Crusher, his real name I forgot, but he looked like the Wrestler they called The Crusher, in the 1960s, who I went to see him once at the Minnesota St. Paul, Armory, wrestle, he was a crowd pleaser.
Matter of fact Sergeant Crusher and I once got into it once, it was a harsh fight. Anyhow he was tasked to oversee that the job got done, and I, being a Corporal, at the time, was his second in command, and we had two Privates, all tasked to do this, duty, one that no one, wished to do.
"We have five thousand tons of ammo in this storage vault (more liken to an enclosure, the size of an Olympic swimming pool) and believe me not, hundreds of rats!"
He told us straight out, as we stood inches away from the locked doors, two large doors.
"There is no diminutive way rats can escape once inside this enclosure, it is a steel-walled prison inside there for the most part, and the few ventilators that are here and there, are protected with firm wire-mesh. Although some of the smaller rats chew their way in but never leave; the ventilators are quite small themselves. The rats increase and multiply over this long period. So they become imprisoned in this storage unit, eat the wood crates, and so on, and then turn to cannibalism. And by the time we do our inspection and inventory, the majority of the rats will be dead, yet those that are left, the survivors, and it will be a score of them, will be huge colleagues: as Darwin said: the strongest and the fittest, and the most fiercest."
Still standing by the doors, I could hear the rats passing back and forth, going on like: squealing and crying. Then as the sergeant put the key into the lock of the door, said abruptly:
"Woops, I forgot to mention, there is an attached room to the ammo vault, additional and luckier rats will have found their way into that room to steal food, we keep can rations there, and they gnaw their teeth into the cans to the point they break their teeth, you'll notice tooth fragments everywhere. There will be a blood-splash all about, and that is what we'll have to clean up.
"Which reminds me, may I suggest you all stand to one side, so the rats do not feel cornered when I open up the doors, we don't want them to think we are trying to trap them again, let them run, they will be the father of all rats, and by measurement, some will be scaled at twenty inches from the tip of their tail to the tip of their nose. Have no pity on them if they challenge you during their escape. If you feel compelled to use your M-16, go ahead and do so. If possible shoot once in the air, and then at them, and don't shoot one another in a frenzy."
And when he opened the doors, we all looked slowly toward that ominous blackness, in what was quite distinctly an active rat-hive, and out thundered a cloud of dust, blackness, and blobs and flashes of reddish-brown, to dark brown, to complete black rats, it at first left us in hushes, aloft their rumbles, the voices hundreds of feet running every-which-way, Crusher stepped back in his usual casual way, and gave no orders at all, save in low conversation with himself, we were all compelled to shoot at them, regardless if or not they were about to challenge us. And I know not why-it must have been spontaneous with all of us (except Crusher) -in that we wanted none to cling onto us, to avoid being dragged away with the horde; our hands went for the trigger of the rifles, and my hand gripped and pressed the trigger, on automatic. We were all deafened by the reverberation and boom of the rifles and chaos of the unceasing rats' diabolical thunder, it was a bizarre sight. It was one audacious orgy, of red-blood. They came out as if there had been a color-riot inside what might be related to a bunker under fire, while others, more beat-up, whom were like gigantic serpents, crowed out through the two doors, per near one on top of another, bitten half to pieces, like ragdolls, the fur on their backs torn off showing flesh.
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