The Wargame

 1994

 

I was in the Army, participating in a wargame in the New Mexico desert. The armored vehicle I commanded was undergoing mechanical issues. So my driver, and myself, were left with the vehicle while the attack continued away from us. Maintenance teams in general were overwhelmed, and I found out later our unit's maintenance team was captured. We were there, by ourselves, for a week.

The desert heat was oppressive through the day, and the nights, by contrast, were rather frigid. So, my driver and I spent the days sweltering. We quickly got smelly, and thus made sure we bathed each day. Now, my driver would simply bathe right in front of me, but I just plain couldn’t do the same. I was very uncomfortable with the idea of undressing and washing in front of him. Each morning, when it had warmed up a bit, I would take the portable shower we had, and go around to the front of the armored personnel carrier, and shower where I couldn’t be seen.

He found it a bit odd, and teased me a bit. In his southern twang he'd say "What's the matter Sergeant?". But I couldn't tell him. He'd try to be silly, pop around the side of the personnel carrier. But I always coverd my chest, and that just made him laugh harder. 

Naturally, because my life so rarely goes right the first time, when our First Sergeant and his driver stopped by after that week to replenish our food and water, where was I? Yep. Showering. 

I wish I could say that showering got easier. But unfortunately, it didn't. 

But the worst part of the experience was yet to come. My driver and I noticed one morning that a lot of tarantulas were around. Next thing we know, we were surrounded with them. Some sort of migration. The desert was black and moving. The stuff horror movies were made of. 

At least the showers stopped. We spent three days on top of our armored personnel carried, fending off spiders.