By the time you read this, I will be stateside; my odyssey in the Balkans and central Asia has ended. In fact, my contract officially expired over a month ago. I am now "Kurtz". If you don't recognize the literary allusion, you are every bit the bonehead Gibber always thought you were. The horror. The horror.
But speaking of Gibber, has anyone besides me heard from him? As you recall, he is on the lam from his faked death and botched attempt to cash in on the insurance, which, it turns out, he had tried to collect in person, as he had previously named himself his sole beneficiary. The insurance company clerk, being a Chi Psi, was not suspicious, but somebody else managed to stop payment on the check.
Anyway, I hear from Gibber all the time, mostly in my sleep and when I need help. I was in Zagreb, Croatia, a couple of weeks ago - not long before it was hit by rockets - and I had a sudden urge to talk some UN guys into getting me on a relief flight to Sarajevo, just to see it before the rest of it gets blown to hell, and Gibber said "Watch your ass, counselor." I whipped around, but he had already slipped away. I passed on Sarajevo. Soon I will be back to the safety of Washington, D.C. Wait a minute...
During a leave last November I went deer hunting with Bob "Monti" Montione '80, Bill "Weblet" Webster '79, Nate "Nate" Rudgers '82, and deercamp host Mark "Taz" Ochs '79. All are hale, but couldn't hit water if they fell out of a boat. In all fairness, however, I must point out that Weblet didn't hunt, as he decided to take on the hated-but-necessary task of sleeping and eating while the rest of us enjoyed communing with cold and rain for 8 hours while sitting in trees hunched over dangerous weapons. We felt bad for him, but, frankly, somebody had to do it, and besides, there isn't a tree in New York State that would have appreciated Bill's attempts to climb it. No offense, Bill, but it's no secret that you haven't missed a meal since the Eisenhower Administration. For you tree-huggers and veggies, fear not - the deer of New York are safe, at least at Pike Deercamp.
I may take on another overseas assignment soon - in central Asia, the far east, Africa, or Latin America - or I may get some grant money to write some junk, or I may just sit around the house in my boxers. Either way, I'm glad I'm not you, but I still hope to see you at either the Summer Party or Homecoming, whoever you are.