"Oh, and over here we have the boxes that contain the hair" "And these boxes contain the teeth" "And here are the clothes, jewelry, dolls, etc"
"I hear this is what it was like in the Nazi concentration camps" He slurred, out of the side of his mouth
"But, you know, there doesn't have to be a concentration camp For there to be these kinds of remains"
"Every war leaves this kind of waste"
He stopped himself, at this point, and looked at the floor
"I'm sorry," he rasped
"I sometimes forget myself"
"I sometimes forget that these odds and ends were once human Like you and I" "Not just waste material, but wasted life"
"There have been so many, and I've been doing this for so long"
"One almost has to see it all as 'just stuff' in order to get through it"
" Sometimes we have an accident, and one of the drums breaks open"
" Then the God awful stuff floods the floor"
"And the smell is so bad that many of us pass out"
"Then we have to go through and mop everything up And check every drum, box, and bag for contamination"
"Contamination!" "Can you believe it?"
"How much more contaminated can anything be?"
As we reached the exit, at the other end of the building I turned to my guide and, in the light of the doorway, Saw his face, clearly, for the first time
Jim Bush is a 61 year old, Vietnam-era veteran, currently living in Katy,Texas. He was raised in a military family. His father received the Silver Star for directing troops while under air attack at Clark Field in the Phillipines, survived the Bataan Death March, and spent three and a half years in a Japanese POW camp. He also received the Purple Heart for wounds received while a POW. Jim served as an army photographer in Okinawa and Korea. In 1987 he traveled to the war zones of Nicaragua with a veteran's group dedicated to stopping the Contra War.
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