Life Sketches by Terry Berkson
On the Bug Bus to San Antonio
In 1965, the army shipped me to San Antonio, Texas for medical training. Upon completion I had the title of Preventive Medicine Specialist. This might sound impressive but, actually, “Right shoulder butterfly nets,” was a frequent order given by Sergeant Goodwine, who was marching us out to Camp Bullas to catch “sidewinders,” scorpions, black widows, wasps, tarantulas and more. Among the many diseases we learned about was malaria and how to identify the carrier, the anopheles mosquito, in its waterborne stage. We learned about treating snake bites, testing and purifying water, and identifying and trapping all kinds of disease-carrying critters. I was sure we were headed for Vietnam. This didn’t impress Special Forces troops who were billeted next door and often seen exiting their building by way of a second floor chute while riding skateboards. They never failed to whistle, hoot and jeer when we’d march by armed with nets.
Classes were conducted very much like in college. We used microscopes to identify bacteria and learned how to label and pin insects we caught and later preserved in alcohol or mounted in wooden collection boxes. Competition was encouraged with rewards of being excused from guard duty and kitchen police. Not every specimen was found in the wild. The American cockroach, for example, was plentiful on the streets of San Antonio due to abundant nearby ground cover, humidity and the city’s close proximity to the Rio Grande. Why Sergeant Goodwine wanted us to go downtown and collect live samples and put them in these shoe-polish-size tins was beyond me. The roaches were now in their flying stage and so plentiful that streets and roads became slippery as cars drove over them.
One of the guys in class, Private Warren Hawley, liked to leave a large footprint by touting controversial right-wing organizations he subscribed to. I don’t think he was serious, but identifying with an exclusive group brought attention. Coincidentally, he had big feet and his boots frequently found toes to step on. One night I found myself riding a bus back to the base with a tin full of the assigned cockroaches. Hawley was seated a couple of rows in front of me and making conversation with a Green Beret who, for some macho reason, chose to stand as the bus bounced along. I wasn’t surprised when Hawley, always out to impress, held up his tin and asked the Special Forces guy, “Know what I have in here?”
“Snuff,” was the Green Beret’s answer.
“Not even close,” Hawley returned.
“Okay, I give up,” the soldier said from his standing position. “Whadda ya got?”
“Roaches!” Hawley bragged as he held up the tin.
The Green Beret wasn’t impressed—but having gone through survival training, he was interested. “Let me see one,” he said reaching into his pocket.
“You don’t believe me?” Hawley said quietly.
“Just let me see one.”
Hawley gingerly twisted the can open and palmed one of his live, big brown bugs. The Green Beret worked it out of the medic’s hand and pressed the squirming insect onto the blade of a knife. Then he fished out his Zippo lighter, flip lit it single-handedly, and put the flame to the impaled roach. A moment later he was chewing on the roasted carcass as my shrinking classmate cautiously pocketed his tin.
“I’ll have another,” the standing soldier said forcefully.
“They’re for my collection!” Private Hawley protested.
The Green Beret insisted on roasting and eating several more roaches. When he offered the last of the smoking bugs to Hawley, the rookie entomologist shrunk in his seat and declined. With his entire assignment eaten, Sergeant Goodwine was sure to have him washing pots and pans the next day. The bus pulled up to the gate at Fort Sam Houston and everyone got off—except Hawley. He was headed downtown again to, this time, quietly gather more bugs for his collection.
Terry Berkson has an MFA in Creative Writing from Brooklyn College. His articles have appeared in “New York” magazine, “Automobile” magazine and many others. His memoir, “Corvette Odyssey,” has received good reviews across the board: “highly recommended” by Library Journal.