I left off in my previous post at the point that I was on a deployment in Chirique Province. I talked about the helicopter rides, but I did not talk about the countryside rides. I worked with Smith and Woldridge (Woolridge? I can't remember for sure). Smith was red headed and funny in a confident country boy kind of way. Woolridge was funny in a Christian Slater kind of way (and he looked a lot like him).
We had to drive down these little crappy roads to get to our sites. On one road was a stream that had banks that dropped down about 10'. The stream wasn't too far across, maybe 12' or 15'. There was a cut in the bank and a water crossing, or you could take the bridge. This was not a bridge that for one minute I considered taking. It was a suspension bridge, with the support towers visibly leaning into the center. I was for going through the stream. Smith was driving and didn't want to go through the stream because then he would have to wash the blazer. This funny exchange went on, with Smith telling me we should do it and me telling him he was nuts. Finally, Woolridge and I got out of the Blazer and stood on the bank while he went across. I must have gone over the bridge first on foot, because I remember watching Smith's face as he went over. Smith went very slowly over the bridge, and I watched, expecting the whole thing to come crashing down. I think Smith knew that's what I was thinking because he was driving with his neck craned up, looking over the side until he got in the middle, where he stopped and his eyes went wide. I had just enough time to wonder what was wrong when he started bouncing up and down in his seat. I'm sure I did a frantic "Don't do that, you crazy person!" look or gesture, because he was laughing his ass off shortly. I can't believe the truck made it over that crappy little bridge.
There was a stretch of road we were making that was getting the most attention. We could not find a good local natural supply of rock, much less crushed rock to make the roadbed with. While we searched, construction on the road continued and we worked around the frequent heavy rains in the area. We knew that if you graded everything smooth at the end of the day and ran the vibratory roller over the road last, that the smooth hard dirt surface would drain off the rain and dry out in about an hour. The road was so smooth and slick that kids were going down it in skateboards. I never questioned what a kid in the jungle with no paved surfaces in site was doing with a skateboard.
The road went through a coffee plantation, and the coffee was harvested by hand and spread out on tarps or small slabs to dry in the sun. It was swept up and put into bags, and these little old ladies would sling great big sacks of coffee beans over their backs and walk for miles to the processing buildings.
The leader of the platoon working on the road was Lieutenant Gonzales, a Puerto Rican officer with little engineering abilities or experience. He did speak spanish fluently, though, so he could sure talk to the locals. Lt. Gonzles started to wear these big sunglasses one day, and I could see he was trying to cover up a black eye. I spoke to Sergeant (SFC) Parks, his Platoon Sergeant, but he would not tell me what was going on. SFC Parks was a wizard with equipment, a really good yet friendly Platoon Sergeant with a ready smile and a southern accent. I found out that Lt. Gonzales had tried to take advantage of a local girl, and SFC Parks had caught him in the act before he could do anything to the girl. SFC Parks had torn Lt. Gonzales off of the girl and beat the hell out of him. Now you have to understand that in the military it is very much against the rules to strike a superior officer. The penalty for that would have been very severe. Lt. Gonzales couldn't turn him in without people discovering what he was doing when he got caught, and SFC Parks wasn't going to say anything about it either. It was one of those rare cases when justice was served.
The other main thing I remember about the deployment, besides the cheery red and white color that they painted all the little schools in the area was the fruits. There was fruit trees everywhere with these lemon looking fruits in them. They called them limones (lee'-moan-ays), but they were really limes. You could make a really nice drink with them if you squeezed them and cut them with water, but they were way too tart to drink. There was something funky about the oranges, too, and you could not eat them either.
I didn't make any lifelong friends or accomplish anything noteworthy on the deployment, but I did enjoy myself and learn a lot.
When the deployment finished, I had to go back to Panama and get a house and meet my wife coming down from the states. But that is another story.
No comments:
Post a Comment