By Will Evans
We called it jungle rot. It grew between your fingers and toes, in your crotch and pits. After six months with it, you began to smell like death, like walking, rotting flesh.
Ellis had it the worst. He was coming up on his DEROS, and he called it a sign. Had a real bad feeling about it. Said he smelled like Kool-Aid before Charlie made it official.
Meltzer was sending him out. Ellis begged him, “Please.”
I told Meltzer I’d go in his place. “Fuck that,” Meltzer said.
In the end, Ellis was right, and he went home in a bag.
Very sad story and interestingly written in the military vernacular. I know how much I looked forward to my DEROS at the end of tour, which was second only to my ETS.
Powerful story! That first short sentence put me right in the scene knowing what to expect. The last sentence was the heart-wrenching foreshadowed finish.