The Sad Young Sergeant (A Short Story About Agent Orange)

((…Agent Orange) (1971, Fort Rucker, Alabama))

His dull face held a shadow of revenge for some inner self-satisfaction he needed, a smugness that almost seemed to offend him, but gave him satisfaction, if not joy; it was not in his nature, but it was there, however, that he found something out of nothing, and now he could pronounce what it was, he had learned the name, ‘Agent Orange’.

“I think they fired bombs and guns,” he told Lee, adding, “I never expected to survive the war, only to die at the hands of a mysterious infectious chemical agent called ‘Agent Orange.'” He told Lee Evens. , with his back against the wall, his chair propped up on its two hind legs, Joe Montgomery, of Fayetteville, North Carolina, it was the summer of 1977 (he further added: ‘He had a delayed reaction, somehow’), nine years old , then whew, suddenly it was there’).

“It was Lee, for me, the final boom! And now it is the last part of the war for me, which I thought was over nine years ago, obviously I was wrong. Yes, indeed, a lost war, I forgot that” . it was still embedded in me, at my death I separated from it”.

Besides, Joe added (in a disgruntled voice), “they all dropped dead around us, when we went to pick them up, check their pockets for papers, etc., they were silent, discolored; dead people smell bad.” , ugly, discolored, swollen and horrible “, he told Lee, in the dining room.

Then Joe’s hand started shaking, I mean really shaking, like his system was on automatic, like someone under an electric shock, his left arm, dancing in the air, as he looked at him, then Joe looked at Lee, looking at he, “See, I have no control over that,” and his face began to throb, and his legs seemed to hit, and his back arched. He had to put down his coffee and his spoon, had to wait for his system to cool down. He was no longer in control.

After a moment of agony, he smiles again, “Every day now, it gets worse,” he tells Lee, Lee looking on, unable to speak, and if he could, what would he say, he said to himself.

“No kidding, I’ll be dead in two months, the doctor tells me, and my lawyers say, this substance was used by the military for experimental purposes in various areas of Vietnam, during the time I was there, and I was in a from those various areas, and they’re not sure of the effects, but here they are, in full swing, but I’m afraid my family won’t see any money from this for years, it’s under investigation, and you know what that means in the military. Listen, you need to check and see if it was in any of these areas, I mean, it sits dormant for years, and then, like a volcano eruption, it blows up one day.”

“How long have you been in the army?” Sergeant Evens asked.

“When I turn fifteen, I will not live to collect my pension; perhaps now I will understand Sergeant Lee (at that moment the spoon fell out from under his fingers).”

Under the strict circumstances, Sergeant Joe Montgomery still had remarkable agility, and his large black body, bruised here and there, kept a smile on his face, knowing somehow that there was no escaping his fate, yet with the short time he had. he was gone, he wasn’t going to ask for pity, or anything like that, and to be put in jail, he didn’t commit any crime, he was the victim, and he said sadly, “Too bad I loved the Army so much, and it would have been great get to know you better, Lee,” and then I noticed he had a tattoo of the American flag on his arm, under it it said, “The American flag, in all its glory!”

1-4-2008 (Written in Lima, Peru)