Café De Hades.

Been a long day, my feet are smokin’ like a water boo caught in a napalm strike, thought we would never dig in for the night. Got to wonder how many clicks we went in circles today. I think we pin-wheeled round that yard village six times at least. They are crusty little rascals that’s for sure, but Charley sure respects em’. Blow guns and spears, Bow and arrows and five foot of mean wrapped in loin cloths would tend to discourage a body from aggravating them. It would be like tryin’ to slam-dunk a hornet’s nest into your own sleeping bag. I saw the captain bartering with em’ a bit earlier, could be we will spend the night encamped around the Ville. I hope so cause we could sleep heavy for a change.

Beauty is most definitely in the eyes of the beholder but the culture ain’t real pretty. Don’t know how Poppa-Sanh can smooch old Momma-Sanh with black teeth and red beetle-nut juice running down her chin. Love is blind and seeing as they don’t have mirrors I can understand, But good Lord I hope they don’t invite us to dinner.

The last time I ate with the locals was a few months back south of Phubai. We were in holes around Motor “T “ for a spell overlooking rice paddies. Down the road a bit was a stinky ass brown river and a small village across the bridge where a couple of these jarhead geniuses would go to get some local food fare. Now I know what your thinkin’ and, no this was not a  “boom-boom” run. Seems they had a favorite Momma-Sanh that would cook  “food” for em’ in exchange for some C-rats. I had already heard the urban legends bout dicks falling off in the shower and I wanted no part “scuse the terminology” of that. Anyway, I was invited to go along with em’ one afternoon so four of us hopped in a Jeep and tooled on down to the village with a case of hot C’s bouncing around in the back. I don’t know what possessed me to go with em’ but I believe it was the temptation of the local Cuisine. The outside chance of a home cooked meal or some bullshit like that. Whatever the draw we crossed the bridge and pulled into the village.

Three of us hopped out and headed into the straw hooch while one remained to Guard the Jeep. With the case of C’s slung up on a shoulder we sauntered on in and took a seat on some rickety old bench sitting in front of a gray planked chewed up raggedy-assed table. Mamma-Sanh yelled “Oh-ho! you numbuh one GI“ and flashed her toothless smile. Within a couple of minutes she came shuffling out with three bowls of soup and set them down in front of us. Secretly I was wondering why the bowls didn’t slip though the table cracks, they sat there teetering like Humpty Dumpty before the big fall. What the fuck! She then bowed and stepped back mumbling and faded into the back room curtain like the Phantom of the opera.

There we sat, three shitheads, Moe, Larry and Curly with steaming hot grayish liquid bowls of mothers home made soup permeating our nostrils. Moe said “ Nyuk-Nyuk-Nyuk “go-ahead newbie, this is some good shit”. Mamma didn’t raise no fool. Now I may have been born yesterday but I wasn’t born last night, so I went Woob-Woob-Woob and waited for bigmouth to dig in. Larry said “Coitainly” while slapping a salute on his forehead“ and he slipped that spoon beneath the cloudy substance like he was at a Baptist dinner on the grounds. He didn’t hesitate, gag or nuthin’ just shook his head up and down like he was happy to be eating home cooking. I went ahead against my gut instinct and started eating. Let me tell ya, this chipped up porcelain bowl was dee-eeep. Couldn’t see anything doing the backstroke except a couple of black peas but I was really hoping it was chicken. Sorta tasted like chicken but then doesn’t everything? 

There we were slurping away and grinning like a bunch of horn-dogs at a strip joint. We MMmm’d good and gulped this unusual tasting gray concoction down and all was fine and dandy until I got down to the bottom of this reservoir sized portion of soup. I stuck my spoon down to the bottom of the bowl and drug up a piece of chicken all right. The only problem was it was a head, eyeballs, and beak and it sat there dripping wet staring at me from the center of my spoon. I thought to myself, HELL NO! Tell me it ain’t so. I in disbelief dug in again and hoisted up the head but this time it had the foot and claws stuck in it’s eyeball. SHIT YEAH! I am SEEING what I am EATING, and NOW I must run! I hit the door running and dinner was served to the shit-bird guarding the jeep. Needless to say it wasn’t pretty and I put a whole new meaning to the cliché spit shined boots. Three seconds later Moe and Larry came streaking out of the hooch.  Moe was clutching his throat like he wanted to strangle his sick assed self and Larry was wide eyed and rubbing his belly like he swallowed a glowing hot heat tab. I guess they must have both had a look-see at various chicken parts unknown, or perhaps they saw their pale reflections in the glazed orbed eyeball of the feather duster they were chowing down on. My bet is Mamma-Sanh is rolling around on the dirt floor laughing her bony little ass off. Nothing like a bowl of chicken ass to play a joke on Numbuh one GI’s.

I wrote down the coordinates of Momma-Sanhs feather and ass factory just before I passed out.

Three days later after spewing out assholes and eyeballs and, pulling splinters out of my spark shooting ass I started to remember my own name. Threes company and we became very close during this barrage of dysentery we shared. No Vietcong in their right mind would have come within two hundred yards of our odor wreaking position, hell for all they knew we went and poisoned ourselves at Mamma-sanh’s Café de Hades. Or it could have sounded as though we had one hell of a barrage of heavy ordinance going off for thirty-six hours. In my fevered state I can remember looking over at the connoisseur of Asian dining and between shivers saying I’m   ggggonnna   fffrag  Yyyur Asssss! But then I thought I would be doing Mr. Maitre De a favor so I let em’ suffer along with us.

Reality is hell, and we will encamp round the Yard Ville tonight. Sleep we may even if it’s with one eye open. Charley won’t be by tonight we can be rest assured of that. Funny thing though, Looks like the chief took a liking to the Captain. Invited em’ to dinner so it seems. May be here a bit longer than we expected.

I feel like hugging the old Yard chieftain, yes-sir-ree-bob!!!

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