Combat Cooties

W. Carl Ketcherside

[Page 26]

     Once when I was a little lad down in the hills we moved into a house which was infected with bedbugs. We did not know it, of course, or we might not have moved into it. Having bedbugs was in the same category as having the seven-year itch, the only advantage of which was that when you'd had it three times you knew you were old enough to vote.

     The first night in our new domicile found all of us restless and disturbed. When my mother finally found the matchbox and got the kerosene lamp lighted she gave a gasp. The sheets were covered with bugs scurrying for cover. They had marshalled their forces in the darkness and crawled out of the woodwork to attack in hungry frenzy. Our parents did not sleep the rest of the night although the children dozed fitfully while their elders waged futile warfare.

     The next day all of the bed ticks had to be taken outside and the straw from them burned. The wooden bedsteads were taken down and every concealed part sprayed with a solution of carbolic acid poured from the bottle with the skull and crossbones on the label. All of the walls, which were of painted wood had to be washed with special attention given to the cracks between the boards. Bedbugs constituted the worst catastrophe we had ever suffered as a family up to that time.

     Now times have changed. Bedbugs are our allies in the war in Vietnam. One of these insects is placed in a small box insulated on three sides, and carried with the fourth and open side directed toward the jungle. The task of the bug is to "sniff out" Communists concealed in ambush. When a bedbug senses human

[Page 27]

blood by its natural sonar system its "scream" is amplified until it becomes recognized by the carrier who thereupon directs withering fire into the undergrowth where the soldiers are concealed.

     My mother is no longer with us but if she were I'm sure she would look askance at enlisting these insect pests to literally "bug the enemy." But "new occasions teach new duties; time makes ancient good uncouth," as the poet writes, whether correctly or not. I know of a lot of bedbugs in the spiritual realm which are now being used to discomfit the enemy.

     For instance, I grew up in a faction where "uninspired literature" in a Bible class was regarded as a device of Satan. To give little award cards for attendance which contained a religious picture and scriptural verse was almost in the same category as awarding a deck of playing cards in a memory verse contest.

     When radio was first introduced it was bitterly attacked by those who several years before had prophesied that God would not let it happen. As I recall I even got into the fight over television, on the wrong side, going so far as to preach a discourse on "TV or Not TV--That is the Question."

     Now all of these "bedbugs" are being employed along with a lot of others to help stimulate interest and arouse concern for the Christian concept. If they belong to Satan he is being whipped over the head with his own weapons!

     It will not be necessary for any of you to write and remind me that the insects used near Saigon have not changed their nature and are still bedbugs. I know that. I trust to the good judgment of my intelligent readers not to carry this analogy of combat cooties too far. I can make it ridiculous enough for all of us!