Off they went followed by a semi-religious chanting of the remaining unit members hoping for good luck. They gathered in a circle, each nervously eyeing the next. Who would be left behind to serve in that hell-hole called the Hanoi Hilton? Blazing Straddle tried again and again to relieve herself of the unit's only weapon: The Hashit. Unsuccessfully. And then that eerie singing began. 'Ather Abraham was worshipped before the group departed.
The pack immediately moved out toward the open rice patties some call "The Mall". Here they hoped for sign of trail led by the Hares. Occasionally they ran across random elements of their search: small tufts of white substance placed surreptitiously such that the enemy would be unaware of the route home. Missing Link and Cunning Runt each led small groups of the hopeful toward that elusive goal.
Yet elusive it turned to be. Twisting in and out, suddenly the group came face to face with a monument to others of lofty mind: The Navy Memorial. And on we went. On to the rice patties.
There, the indigenous personnel called out fearfully as we quickly passed through their hamlets. Careful we were, especially since monsoon season was nearing. And sure enough, in spite of our speed, near the Smithsonian Gardens the monsoons struck. And struck down one among us: Blazing Straddles.
But the pack smelled escape from their mission and pressed on. But where? The elusive sign of trail seemed to disappear. Small groups spread out all over. Dual Air Bags and several others were nearly captured at this point and escaped unaided to the premarked pickup zone. They were subsequently rescued by helicopter and later joined their comrades in arms.
Finally, trail was again espied running through L'Enfant Plaza. Thank goodness. The leaders of the pack noted that trail marking departed the normal path and led into a fenced in area. Hark! What happened here? Is there no way out? Some more experienced among us were reminded of Robert McNamara's VietNam strategy and cried. No way out. Would this be the way the day ended?
No. The path was again discovered on the ground. And on we moved. Eventually we discovered that the Hares had left drink for the thirsty. After quenching our thirst, we wondered if we would ever reach safety. Suddenly we were upon the bay. Some call this body of water the Tidal Basin, but no matter what its name it spelled trouble. Trail led to the left to follow a clockwise route. The question those at the back of the pack were faced with was: Should we follow or anticipate that the trail will actually circle around where we could short cut and catch up. Fortunately, local custom was enforced for our safety and we sacrificed one of our number in respect for Kutz Bridge. Goodbye, 4SaleOr Rent.
As the pack circumnavigated the Tidal Basin, trail led across FDR memorial. There, the day's faux pas occurred when the Hares mistakenly set a check inside the memorial area. When the pack arrived, they found a lone worker scrubbing to return the memorial to the serenity it deserved with other civilians observing the cleaning of the grafitti.
Back at the Tidal Basin, a group of slower members grew. A quick glance to see who was among us indicated that Roto Router, Quick Drawers, Hard Drive, Blank Check, Cheap Slut, Loan Shark, Spread Sheets, and others were near by. Not the fastest of the pack any longer. Some say their day has passed. As they worriedly watched FRBs circle and fretted whether a short cut would work, Spread Sheets suddenly took command. "Move out!" She ordered. "Let's do it." And we began laboring forward. Would we ever escape the territory we were in and return home to our loved ones? Suddenly we were inspired: There was another memorial to those that fought the War to End All Wars.
As we passed the Lincoln Memorial, trail became confusing. Could it be to the left over one bridge? Could it be straight over another bridge? Or could it be to the right nearing the memorial to those who paid the ultimate sacrifice in VietNam… the Wall. To find out whether the bridges were a false lead, we sent Oral Presentation ahead. He nearly led a small pack of lost souls across the water before the pack beckoned him to return.
Suddenly the unit was together again. All were present and accounted for (except for Dual Air Bags and a couple of others previously noted). We were near home base and safety. Now we merely had to follow what had become a clearly marked trail home. Except the trail disappeared. The VC in a devious move, seemed to employ a force of leaf blowers to disperse the flour. Suddenly, BiteMeElmo was on her own, nearly in tears after such an emotional trip through enemy territory. But then safety was seen.
At the Wall, the Hares were nearly all present. They were gathering the unit together for one last roll call before the final sprint to safety. They had sent Wankers Aweigh ahead to clear the last of the path through enemy territory. But they knew him. So directions were furtively given: "15th and I, where Wankers works." And off we were.
During the final portion of the trail, one waif-like member of the pack almost lost her sanity. It was a sad sight, but the to be unnamed woman continually tried to storm ahead of the pack leadership present at this point. As I said, she'll remain unnamed, but she kept dissing Hard Drive who demanded her to genuflect as she passed by. Finally, she came to her senses and paid her respects to the Hash Elders by running two steps behind and two steps to the left of them. And, hence, Milk Money, too, reached safety.
But it wasn't safety. The VietCong had cruelly led us astray to the warriors worst nightmare: Capture and internment at the Hilton. The Hanoi Hilton. The group was captured en masse and sent below ground where they were fed mere table scraps left from a White Trash Hash. And torture was in abundance.
First the Hares drank for a long, dangerous trek to freedom, only to fail so close to the end. Several of the Unit were tortured for continued service to their Hash. Ed Taylor for 5, Oral Presentation for 15, Ollie North for 25, Blazing Straddle for 35, Late Cummer for 55, Milk Money for 95, Cunning Runt for 235, Roto Router for 265, and Blank Check for 335.
Those Virgins, those first time runners, were tortured next. Karen Rahlf, Chris Titterton, Bob Roos, Susan Doleman, Ron Albrecht, Deveny Deck, Burt Mullins, and Michael Bouffard. Visitors were tortured too. Genevieve Pullis, KeepThe Steers I'll Take the Queers, and Joanne Farewell drank. One of the Virgins had on new shoes so Czech My Shorts and Blank Check performed the Cinderella Down Down.
Returners included 14 Ct Cock, Spinal Tap, Hasher Humper, He Whore, Saran Wrap, and Capt Crunch. Numerour violators were tortured. Missed Erections for racing an armored truck. Czech My Shorts for fashion statement. BiteMeElmo for stripping. Hawaiian Puke for his outfit. LickItOffBaby for wanting to be violated. Blazing Straddle for racing shirt/security incident, Cheap Slut for a bad joke, Oral Presentation for almost leading the pack over the Potomac, 4SaleOrRent for late sign in, Dirty and Harry for butt ugly shoes, Just Mike and Just Sara for sex in the elevator (Just Mike drank for sex on trail last week… with someone else!), *69 for her tattoo's first birthday, Late Cummer and Mellow Foreskin Cheese for fashion statement, and Milk Money for disrespecting her hash seniors.
Several namings occurred with Kris being named "Stick it to my wild pussy", Erica being named "Does it for free", and Donna being named "Tits Ahoy".
Swing Low was sang and the Unit finally departed for safety walking to their cars.
May the hash go in peace. The preceding was a poor attempt by the author to pay respect to the trials our veterans went through in VietNam. I would like to say Thank You to every man and woman that has ever worn a uniform in defense of our country and our freedom.
OnOn. BC
And don't forget to bring food for Thanksgiving Run next Saturday. See Mismanagement for details.