Pustacia surveyed the main gate. A Navy SP Jeep and an olive drab military ambulance with its red cross on a circle of white were parked behind the small sand brick guardhouse inside the main gate. The guardhouse was the size of a two-car garage. An armed Marine MP stood on the building’s curb facing the single lane entry road. An identical set-up was directly opposite the single lane road exit. It was actually one road with a white line down the middle. The sentry house contained two additional marines each facing the entry or exit behind the 4-foot by 6-foot thermo-pane glass fronts and sides. The roof was covered with snow left from the storm 5-days ago. Pustacia contemplated the hand held posters. There was nothing new. The signs carried slogans they had used before:
HELP NIXON END THE WAR
BRING THEM ALL BACK
IT’S THEIR WAR NOT OURS
LIVE AND LET LIVE
THEY WANT COMMUNISM – LET THEM HAVE IT
YOU AMERICANS GOT WHAT YOU DESERVE
QUEENS NAVAL PATIENTS ARE TRAITORS
QUEENS NAVAL PATIENTS WERE SMITTEN BY GOD
NO JOBS FOR NAM RETURNEES
NORTH VIETNAM IS ALL VIETNAM
Inside the guardhouse Marine Sergeant Gavin Stibbit blew smoke through the small circle cutout in the entrance side window used for speaking to the outside guards. “You know what really frosts me? You know what really grabs me by the balls about those people picketing out there?”
“Yeah. I know Sarge. You say the same thing alla time.” PFC Guerra had worked the main gate several times with Stibbit.
“Well, I’m gonna say it anyway and if the Press gets close enough I’ll tell them too.”
“No newspeople, Sarge.” Guerra reminded the team inside the heated guardhouse. “No one but real hospital visitors today can even get this close. Memba what Norton tole us.”
Stibbit ignored the 19-year-old Puerto-Rican American from Brooklyn and opened the door and shouted: “We all risked our lives and bodies so you can have the privilege of picketing and protesting. Without us you all would be jailed.”
His statement could not be heard over the oval marchers drone and chanting as each one read their sign aloud or joined others grouped around a particular slogan.
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