Ghosts of Long-Dead Soldiers
Emerge from Contemplation
Of a 1914 Mary Box.

Dispatch Number Thirteen

La Dolce Vita
And Vampire Liberty.

DATELINE:
Wednesday, February 14, 2001, at 1200 hours CDT.

By Mickey Miles
Living in London.
SPECIAL to CornDancer.com

EDITOR'S NOTE: Mr. Miles is a professional journalist and political operative who moved to London in summer, 2000, to explore a new line of endeavour.

San Diego, California (1968)   In those days, sailors, soldiers, and airmen were paid a pittance. Not sure it's that much better today. When I got out of boot camp, I was stationed at the 32nd Street Naval Base in San Diego. Since I had taken some college hours (I flunked out), I was made a Seaman, a small notch above Seaman Apprentice. My pay was $44 every two weeks. Adjusted for inflation, that is about $100 in today's dollars. That doesn't go very far. Not over two weeks.

God, how we used to pine for payday. Naturally when you got your hot little hands on your paycheck, you couldn't wait to head out to downtown San Diego and blow the whole wad.

We didn't always go downtown. Fortunately, we met some guy who would rent us a cabin on the beach. Three or four of us would pool our resources and stay there for the weekend.

On payday weekends we would call up the guy and secure the cabin. We would buy some beer — ok, a lot of beer — and have a few while we changed into our swimsuits before walking the couple of blocks to the beach on Saturday. We spent the day looking at those gorgeous women in swimsuits. We tried our best to meet them, but I don't remember much success — and I would remember, wouldn't I?

Back at the base after a nice weekend, it wasn't so bad during the week because you were busy and you might be on watch at night. Since they fed you and provided shelter and clothing, your basic needs were met.

When You're Down to 50 Cents,
Vampire Liberty Beats Singing Anchors Away.

It was the following weekend when things got tough. Now you were down to 50 cents and you had the whole weekend in front of you. You had two choices: You could stay at the base and spend the weekend shining your shoes and singing Anchors Away, or you could have Vampire Liberty.

The bright lights of San Diego beckoned. For enterprising sailors, where there is a will, there is a way.

On Saturday morning me and my best friend, Joe, would walk the 32 blocks to downtown San Diego. There were two places in San Diego that bought blood. One paid $5 and the other paid $10. For health reasons you could only give blood once a month and they kept track, so Joe and I split up. He would go to the $10 place, and I would go to the $5 place. Two weeks later we would alternate. This way you could give blood twice a month and get paid a little money twice a month.

After giving blood we would rendezvous at the International Pizza place and split the money. Now we had $7.50 each, enough to buy a big pizza and a picture of beer for starters. I can still taste that pizza — pepperoni, cheese, mushrooms. I always got the same kind.

And since you were a quart low on blood, the ice cold Heineken beer hit you pretty quick, but it felt good. We would laugh, smoke cigarettes, and swill beer.

Next we would buy a quart of wine apiece and go to the fifty-cent flicks and watch second run movies. And drink cheap wine.

We ended up with just enough money to pay for a bus ride back to the base, returning with a belly full of pizza, wine, and beer.

"Where you guys been?"

"Vampire Liberty."

Everyone understood.

32 YEARS LATER

London, England (2001)   La Dolce Vita, the good life, is a small, nondescript Italian food restaurant near Harrod's in London. The doorway is very narrow and you could easily miss it, but it beckons with a kind of coziness on a cold, rainy London day.

We had been shopping in Camden Paggage next door to the Angel tube station, my wife looking at antique furniture and me studying war artifacts. My passion is that great sad war — World War One. I found a Mary Box. These were small tin boxes issued to the soldiers in World War One. They used them to hold cigarettes and matches. Mine is dated 1914. I paid too much for it, 30 pounds, but I wanted it.

The history of mankind, sadly, is written in blood and there was no more bloody, nasty, and strange war than World War One. I cannot read enough history about it. Sometimes I feel the ghosts of long-dead soldiers are tugging at me, pulling me to their trenches and the terrible, terrible life they suffered. Sometimes they come to me in my dreams for they know I understand a bit, but what they really want is for me to feel, touch, taste, smell, and experience their life and death in the trench.

The Loss of Innocence and Naivete
On the Bloody, Bloody Battlefields.

In Goodbye to All That, Robert Graves describes how the innocence and naivete of youth was so quickly lost on those bloody, bloody battlefields. And how the veterans returning on leave hated their fellow civilians. They used to dream they could ride in a parade and toss grenades at their fellow citizens who were so full of it.

As I sat in La Dolce Vita, nursing a cold beer and enjoying a wonderful anchovy pizza, I looked at the Mary Box under a small magnifying glass.

I thought of the soldier who carried it.

Did he make it home?

I hope so.

God I hope so. La Dolce Vita.