‘Special’ People

Now, see, I was trying to be kind and show a little deference to these special guys. We always thought of people who, for whatever reason didn't, or couldn’t, avoid being sent off to wade through fetid rice paddies and sleep out for days at a time wearing the same rancid clothing as rather, well, special, if somewhat pungent. In fact, we thought they just liked to rough it.

We figured they enjoyed camping out eating field rations. They must’ve been environmentally conscious as well since they provided much-needed sustenance to leeches, mosquitoes, chiggers, and other varieties of nature's parasites. They were also empathetic in the extreme; they seemed to go out of their way to lighten the rigorous, sometimes joyless lives of many of the indigenes.

They often played endless games of 'King of the Hill' over selected bits of real estate in hot, humid jungles with those natives designated as 'Charlies' and ‘NVA’. They'd win a chunk of territory and then leave and generously give it back.  Such people are indeed 'special'.

As for us so-called REMF types, we just sat around behind the cozy safety of our totally impenetrable wire, enjoying the convenience of the porcelain thrones in our lavishly appointed shower rooms/latrines. That was, of course only one of the many amenities we enjoyed during our idyllic tours of duty in Nam.

For instance, from time to time, we would languidly bestir our pampered behinds to disport ourselves with compliant, nubile hooch maids, occasionally emitting a satiated, well-fed burp as we did so. (The burps were caused by the lobster, steaks, and asparagus tips we habitually feasted on daily.)

In our defense, it should be noted that we never failed to appreciate the prodigious efforts of our Spartan, special friends. Why, we’ve even gone out of our way to design some of our school curricula specifically for these dedicated, special folk. They're called 'Special Education' classes.

(Response to being called an REMF – AKA ‘’Really Emasculated Mother F***er” by a friend who referred to his fellow Grunts as ‘Special’. I am Air Force. Now, normally, I’d have ignored being called a “Rear Echelon Mother F***er, despite the fact that I wasn’t actually in the rear; I was on an outpost with about forty other Americans. ‘Emasculated’ was a bit much, though. However, I have to admit we were known to scarf down the stray surf and turf from time to time, and we did have flush toilet and hooch maids. No sense in overdoing things and going completely native.)

© T.P. Woodfork