I made my way down to Big John’s package store around 6:45. It was so cool and pleasant this morning belying the heat that would soon build as the day progressed. I saw Dumpster Diving Dan standing in the side parking lot with the seagulls already flocking around him in one great squawking mass.
“Good morning,” I said loudly over the noise.
Dan shook my hand as I gave him the loaf of stale wheat bread I had brought.
“These are my babies,” He said with a grin.
“You do take good care of them,” I replied smiling back.
The fishy smell of the river nearby hung heavily in the air. I left Dan to feed the seagulls and walked over to the river. They were generating electricity up at the dam this morning and the waterline was very high upon the bank. The green water was swirling in furious eddies. I longed for a fishing rod and some bait. It would have been nice to cast a line out. I walked back over to Dan who had just finished the gull’s feeding session. I had ridden my bike down there and Dan asked me if I wanted a ride home. I told him that would be great. We loaded up my bike into the back of Dan’s old Toyota pickup and began our way home. Dan started up a surprising conversation.
“You know I was in Vietnam,” Dan said.
Dan pulled up his shirt showing a scar on the side of chest.
“Shrapnel,” He said pointing to it. “Tet offensive 1968.”
“Did you see a lot of combat?” I asked.
“No, not too much, but I did kill a man I think,” Dan said.
“What happened?” I asked. “If you don’t mind me asking.”
My curiosity was piqued.
“We were in a convoy on a road,” Dan said. “Some gook was standing in the road blocking our way. It was a prime ambush setup. I got out of the jeep and we got one of the South Vietnamese soldiers to ask him to move. He refused. I took the butt of my M16 and bashed him in the skull and he fell into the ditch dead on the side of the road. At least I think he was dead. We didn’t go back to check. We had to keep moving. I didn’t mean to kill him, but we had to get him out of the way. I just knew the gooks were going to ambush us sitting there like that. We were sitting ducks.”
“War is hell,” I replied. “Vietnam was fucked up. I have read a lot about it and did a paper on the Tet offensive in college.”
“I still have nightmares about it,” Dan said. “I see that man’s face in my dreams. He haunts me.”
“That is some serious stuff Dan,” I replied. “I never knew you were a veteran.”
“I don’t talk about it much,” He said. “I don’t like to think about it. I was just a scared kid then and got drafted. I didn’t know my ass from a hole in the wall let alone how to fight a war. You learn quick when the shit hits the fan like it did over there though.”
I told Dan to drop me off by the newspaper office just down from my house. He told me goodbye and that he was going to go check the dumpsters behind the shopping center. He has been trying to beat the “hog man” to the spoils. I rode the rest of the way home with a new found respect for Dan. I am 34 and can’t imagine going to war. Just think of being so young and right out of high school, and being thrust into such a quagmire. It is almost unthinkable.
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