Three Days Of Hell

Three Days of Hell and Noise!

- An Aquarian Exposition -

I came to live here in peace. What do I get?

My Generation? Listen to them.

I thought I had found heaven. Living on a dairy farm fifty miles away from the torture of New York seemed like a paradise. It was.

Now, what is going on? I stirred, shaken awake. The ordinarily peaceful surroundings were now alive with action, bustle and people, trucks and tons of equipment. What is it all for? Birds no longer sang.

The last couple of days were bad enough. People were moving things, big things. The noise started early, banging, drilling and, worst of all, shouting.

It soon dawned on me that worse was to come. They had erected stages. More people, this time not only shabby but filthy too. The men's hair was long and unkempt, the women's hair cropped and ugly. Yet, admittedly, they were all working hard.

They were banging drums, thrashing about with electric guitars and the endless 'Hello, hello, testing, testing' with microphones. So what is wrong with these folks?

Later there were endless processions of people parading up and down in my field and lugging bags, backpacks and hookah pipes. Have I gone crazy, or has the world?

I guess a beautiful young thing, still, a teenager, laid out some nylon, aided by a slightly older man. Together they constructed a garish blue and green tent.

'What would her mother think?' I asked myself.

Talking to myself is something I got used to. Now, I wouldn't have it any other way. I even answer myself.

The V for victory was being flashed by people passing. Funny that we didn't see many successes in Viet Nam.

I had spent most of my time looking after people who could no longer or had no intention of raising their fingers. War does that.

Occasionally I put soldiers out of their misery.

Richie Havens' name was being screamed. Who the hell is he? I wonder if he could play some Wagner instead? I doubt it. This gets worse.

Explosions of bad temper regularly disrupted my past life, fiery outbursts. I thought these tantrums were behind me. It seems not. I used to kill things, pets at first. The hamsters were passed off as 'not understanding how to care for them', but the puppies were taken more seriously, and I had to go to a "special" school. I was the only sane one there, and that included the teachers.

Rage is bubbling and boiling under my skin. 'What have I done to deserve this?'

My mind flitted back to Saigon. My family had decided it was better for all who knew me that I served my country. So they drafted me into the medical corps. I served as a nurse, a wonderfully fitting job.

We saw a lot of pain, often caused by stupidity. Being smart and not wanting to be a hero, I remained well away from the action.

Lysergic acid diethylamide, you will know as LSD, commonly known as Acid, is securely locked in our hospital lockers. We saw lots of it, not by soldiers' having fun' but by combatants taking it under an order or prisoners who unknowingly had some white powder added to their food. Our special forces were fearless; we, as medics, knew why. They gave them power drinks.

Prisoners, both enemy and our guys, spewed out information without painful encouragement. What are the "slants" planning? Who was the "peace and loving" GIs in our force? The guys that needed reminding why they were there.

The man passed her a joint, and she took it, sucking hungrily, 'Man, the music gets better.'

'Yes, I will get some Acid. You don't mind, do you? I know you can't.'

'No, help yourself; I'll stick with these thanks.'

The crumpled reefer had too much ash hanging.

'How are you feeling?'

'I'm fine, my only problem is the toilets, too far and too busy.'

'Look, don't worry if you need to pee, do it behind the tree. Everyone will be smashed out of their minds, and they won't care.'

'Make sure I drink plenty of water, okay? It's more important that I drink gallons than embarrass myself by wetting my jeans.'

She laughed but not enjoying the humour. He nodded and grinned, knowing her kidney condition was not a joke.

Now I knew what I could do. LSD caused havoc to those little organs we call kidneys. Oh, what fun this will be.

The music got louder; the excitement increased. As the grey clouds descended on my shoulders, the only rainbows I could see were the seven colours on t-shirts and even hideous jeans.

I couldn't stop the noise, but I could ruin someone's fun.

Calmly descending the tree trunk, I crept into the tent and hid. Right on time, he returned. He was throwing a small packet next to his backpack.

Outside, he joined the others, shouting out the lyrics to a song. Fortunately, I'd never heard before.

I have small hands; therefore carefully emptied the screwed-up paper pack into her drinking bottle. Then, dusting my hands of white powder, I headed towards the tent's flap.

'Oh look, a beautiful squirrel, isn't she gorgeous?'

She? I could cry.

'Never mind the vermin, there is a new band starting.'

'Off you go, baby, back to your tree.'

I'm going, but I want to watch this.

'Come on. They are playing.'

'I can hear. I need a drink first.'

The doctored water bottle drained dry. The hallucinations started within minutes. That was the fun bit, but then the agony in her lower stomach and back. Her boyfriend did not understand what was happening to her. Finally, she died in writhing pain. Her friends danced around her and cheered on the new moves.

Did you know squirrels could smile? I am now stuck in a furry body. For how long, I don't know. The girl had more peace than me. Eventually, they would move on. How many more would I minister to before they leave me in peace?

My Generation ended. I committed suicide in Saigon two years ago. And no, it was not an overdose of LSD!

The END

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