This little kid bathing on his porch sees me and runs to his mother, flashing his bare buns for my camera. I document the moment on silver. Under the hut I see a World War II Japanese helmet. I slosh out into the muddy water to retrieve the trophy. The woman who lives in the hut comes out to yell, “Number Ten! GI! Number Ten” She makes it clear through signs that touching the helmet is very bad. Very bad, being the meaning of saying number ten. At first I wonder if the relic is booby trapped, but if that were the case, I’d already be dead. I hold up the great find and see it has been rusted through in the crown. Still it’s a nice treasure. I wash it in the lagoon water and wade back to shore. Later another woman who speaks some English explains that the helmet had been used as a chamber pot for the last 25 years. When leaving Vietnam many months later, I still have the helmet in my gear. A GI in charge at the operation’s desk confiscates the helmet. He says I need special documentation for a war trophy. As I board the plane I look back and see him showing off the helmet to others. May he wear the chamber pot in good health.