Letters from Becca: A Contemporary Romance Fiction Novel (9 page)

The second up crew plus two more gunships arrived within the hour to evacuate the original casualties plus five more.  The injured were transported to the US military hospital in the small town of Dong Tam before doglegging it to the Vietnamese Army hospital in Can Tho to drop off their casualties.  John’s crew hitched a ride with the second up crew before being flown back to their base at Soc Trang. 

It would be dark soon, and flying at night was not ideal.  As second up finally arrived back at Soc Trang, they were a little worse for wear, but everyone had survived.  John pointed beyond the canopy as they were nearing the base.  The sky was a vibrant blend of blues and purples, oranges, yellows, and reds.  It was a welcome sight in an unwelcoming country.

By dusk, they had landed and parked beside the runway revetments.  There were five other Hueys, less the one John left at the base of the mountain.  Mabel was picked up by a CH47 heavy lift helicopter and a maintenance crew from Vung Tau, about 100 miles south east of Saigon.  Vung Tau, a resort town before the war, was now a supply depot for naval elements and an Army heavy helicopter maintenance depot.  Old Mabel was put into a sling, much the same way casualties had been lifted into her bowels just hours before, and delicately transported back to Vung Tau, where she would be broken down, refitted and sent wherever she was needed in country.

A young corporal drove the Huey crew to the main compound and dropped them by the long wooden barracks, or hooches, as they were called by the local military.  John knew his way around but, it was dark, it was late, and he was tired.  He was headed for the mess tent and ended up at the latrine. 
When in Rome…
  After leaving the latrine, he had lost his appetite.  But he was still running on adrenaline, so he turned toward the Officer’s Club.  As he passed the wall of sandbag-lined hooches again and turned the corner to the Officer’s Club, he heard his name called.

“Oh, my God!” John exclaimed.  “What the hell are you doing here?” he asked, extending his hand.

David took his hand, and then pulled him into a hug.  They patted each other’s backs as they embraced.  “I was just about to ask you the same thing.  I figured they threw your butt out of this country ages ago.”  He shook his head.  “God, it’s good to see a familiar face,” he smiled, “even if it’s yours.”

“I was just about to get a drink,” John announced.  “Join me?”

David nodded.  “You know you don’t have to ask me twice.”

They walked together through the caked dirt, beaten down by thousands of soldiers in and out over several years.  There wasn’t a blade of grass for four square acres. 

“Rough day?” David asked as he searched his friend’s face. 

“Nothing dramatic,” John sighed.  “Two casualty calls.  Got shot down,” he smiled.  “Just another day in the Delta.” 

David shook his head.  “Still living on the edge, I see.”

“Every day,” John replied, as they entered the lounge.  “Every day.”

“I thought the idea was to stay in the air,” David added, moving toward an empty table. 

“Yeah, well, Charlie had other plans.”  John left his friend at the table and walked the few feet to the bar.  He motioned to the national behind it and held up two fingers.  “Bia chai bia, Loai,” he said, then added, “two.”

Loai, the small Vietnamese bartender, handed him two bottles.  John paid in MPC; the military issued scrip that were currently exchanged for and used for U.S.  currency.  Loai was one of the smarter nationals.  He would turn in the MPC almost as quickly as he received it to assure he didn’t lose at the exchange rate when new MPC was issued.  Which was pretty regularly, and never announced far in advance.  John held up his bottle with gratitude and headed for their table.  He handed David one.  They tapped the necks and chugged. 

John sighed.  “I still can’t believe I ran into you here.  I thought you were in Saigon.”

“Just got reassigned.  Chief Ground Advisor to Bin Ma Tre, a village about 45 klicks southwest of here.  Was passing through to check out the PX and get something to drink,” he replied.  “Heard you might be here.  Wanted to see how the other half lives.”

John tapped out a cigarette and offered one to David, who accepted.  He flicked his Zippo open and lit both of their cigarettes.  He narrowed his eyes.  “What did you do, make a bet with an officer and lose?”

David exhaled, masterfully blowing smoke rings, then smiled.  “Would you believe it if I told you I was hung over and lost my way?”

“Not that hard for anyone that knows you,” John joked.

“How much longer you here?”

John put his feet up on the table and leaned back in his chair.  “Depends.  A year more.  Maybe two.”

“You know, I heard rumors about you before I got here.  They say you’re a good pilot,” David continued. 

“I hold my own.”

“You’re one lucky SOB,” David said.  “You have a great record.”

“It’s a job,” John sighed, finishing his beer and motioning for another round. 

“Someone told me you were awarded a medal and promoted to Colonel or something.”

“Can you see me leading a crew of anything bigger than a street fight?” John quipped.

David put out his cigarette and reached for another.  “I see your point.”

“I could have been a Colonel.”

David shook his head.  “That doesn’t look like a Colonel insignia to me.”

“They told me I had a problem with authority,” John smiled as two more bottles of beer arrived.  “Imagine that.”

David laughed.  “Yeah, imagine that.”  He leaned his elbows onto his knees and looked around.  “And to think we volunteered for this.”

John laughed.  “You volunteered?”  He leaned back again in his chair.  “I was invited.”

“Lucky you.”  David's smile faded.  “You hear things back home, but it’s nothing like the real thing.  First tour was different, nothing like this.”

“New week.  New players.”  John lifted his beer to his friend.  “Welcome to hell.”  He took another long pull on his beer.  “How much longer do you have?”

David answered immediately.  “Five months, one week, four days.  I’m almost out of this God forsaken place.  Thought I’d luck out and they’d end this thing before it escalated.  But it seems my services are still needed to defend life, liberty, and someone’s political agenda.”  David leaned back in his chair and pulled out his flask.

“You sly dog.  Holding out on me?”

“Just saving the best for last,” David said as he handed it to his friend.  “Come on man.  Have a real drink with your old pal.  Who knows when we’ll see each other again?”

John accepted it, took a swig and handed it back to David as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. 

David took a long gulp as well, set it on the old wooden table, then lowered his head.  “What she must think of me,” he said slowly shaking his head.  “Becca says they are protesting back home; they call us baby killers, butchers.  It’s all over the news.  Thank God my kid's too young to understand all this,” he added under his breath. 

“They don’t have a clue back in the states.  Not a clue.” John looked at his friend.  “Besides, Becca knows you better than you know yourself.  Trust me on that.”  He looked down at his hands.  “Do you hear from her often?”

David nodded.  “Every week.  I write her back and tell her that the country is beautiful and the weather’s crappy.”  He sighed heavily.  “What the hell are we still doing here, man?”  He shook his head again.  “Do you know how long it’s been since I made love to my wife?”

“At least one kid ago,” John grinned wryly. 

“The last time I saw her,” he continued.

John shook his head, putting his hands over his ears.  “Man, I don’t want to hear this."

“The night before I left.” David talked softly, staring at the ground, talking more to himself.  “God, I miss her.  Her smile.  The smell of her hair.”

John looked up at the ceiling.  “And he tells me anyway.”  He turned back to David.  “You’re telling me anyway?  I haven’t seen a woman in weeks.  I probably won’t see one for another six months.  There isn’t a cold shower for five hundred miles.  Man, you are brutal.”  John took off his sidearm and set it on the table.  “Just shoot me now.”

David held a fresh cigarette between his lips, unlit, and then pulled a picture out of his pocket.  “This is your godson, D.  R..  Becca calls him Little David,” he said, handing it to John.  “I missed his birth.  Now, I’m going to miss his first birthday.”

John took the picture of Becca holding their newborn son.  She looked so beautiful.  He brushed the picture lightly with his finger and smiled.  “Looks like you.”  He looked up at David, his smile growing.  “Poor kid.”

David chuckled as he took the picture back.  “She always asks if I see you.  She says she writes to you but never hears back.  Makes her crazy.  You know how she is.”

John lit David’s cigarette and then put another between his lips and lit it.  “Now you can write her and tell her you’ve seen me and that I’m fine.”  John raised his bottle to his friend.  “To Becca and all that’s good and innocent that we left behind.”

“To getting home in one piece,” David said, raising his bottle.

“Amen, brother.”

They both took a sip and then David turned back to John.  “You know, she’s pregnant again?”

“No, I didn’t know.”  John forced a smile.  “Congratulations.”

“Yeah, first she couldn’t get pregnant.  Now she’s a fertile turtle,” he laughed before taking a long drag on his cigarette.

John looked down at his hands then back up at his friend, not sure what to say.  “When is she due?”

“The day I get back.” David exhaled, tapping the ashes from his cigarette.  They were silent for many moments.  Then David began playing with a nail sticking up from the wooden table as he spoke first.  “I heard you went down and were MIA for a couple of weeks.”

“More like a couple of days,” John corrected.  He looked toward the corner where there were raised voices and loud laughter from a heated poker game.  “Yeah, we went in for an extraction and got hit at the LZ.  Kind of like today,” he smiled.  “One of the minor drawbacks of the job.”  He knocked on the wooden table.  “Thought we were all dead, for sure.”  John leaned back as he remembered, his chair creaking under his six-foot frame.  “We knew they were out there somewhere, because they shot us down.”  He took a long drag on his cigarette, then exhaled.  “But then they were silent.  We didn’t know where they were, if they were twenty feet or a klick away.”  He shook his head.  “They’re sneaky little bastards,” he smiled.  “We went down at dusk, dug in and waited.”

“For what?” David asked.

“To be rescued?” John replied.  “To die?”  He turned to his friend.  “I’m a pilot.  When I’m up there,” he pointed skyward, “I can see it all and I’m in control.  But at night?  In the woods?  On the ground?” he added flatly.  “I gotta tell you, I was scared.  We lost two birds, three crewmen and four of the guys we were sent in to rescue that day.”

“You walked away, man.”  David leaned forward and slapped him on the shoulder.  “Anytime you can walk away is a win,” he insisted.  He took a swig from his flask.  “Do you remember Carl Washington from high school?  Best hands our senior year?  All state tailback?” 

John nodded.

“Yeah, well, I ran into old Carl the other day.  Actually, I tripped over him; only I didn’t recognize him because he had no face.  I only knew it was him ‘cause the picture in his pocket was him, his wife, Gina, and their four kids.  Damn shame,” he said shaking his head.

“I’m sorry, man.  I know he was a friend of yours.”  John leaned in closer.  “Do you ever wonder what the hell we’re
really
doing here?”

David shook his head.  “Not my place to wonder.  I’m just an advisor.”

“Good, then you can advise someone to get me the hell out of here!”  John stated emphatically.  “This is some messed up crap.  I knew what I signed up for.  Or thought I did,” he took another sip.  “We come over here, do what they tell us without question,” he said lowering his voice because four young soldiers were sitting at the table adjacent to theirs.  “Half these kids don’t even know what to expect.”

David spun his empty beer bottle.  “They get basic.”

John scoffed.  “Three months.  Maybe six?  Boot is learning the rules and regs, plain and simple.  C’mon, man.  This wasn’t supposed to happen.  Do you know what really goes on down here?  We’re killing civilians.”  He lowered his voice.  “We’re killing kids,” he began.  “Ours
and
theirs.”

“Who knew you’d grow a conscience?” David asked, motioning for another round.

“This whole thing is really messed up,” John repeated.

David held up his flask.  Loai nodded.

“Not everyone sees things quite like that.  In fact, I’d be careful just what you say, how loud you say it and to whom.  You know what I mean?” David responded.

“I’m not afraid of what anyone thinks about what I say anymore.  There are a lot of guys who feel the same way,” John said, lighting another cigarette and tossing the Zippo to David.

“You know this for a fact?”

“A
lot
,” he stressed.  “Other officers too.  Not everyone thinks what we are doing here is right.  You, of all people, should know.  You’ve seen what goes on here.”