Chapter 2 Vietnam
Frank’s POV
Bien Hoa, South Vietnam — October 1972
Larry was going to get his ass kicked before breakfast, and if nobody else volunteered, I was happy to do it.
The son of a bitch had been accusing everybody of stealing his cigarettes since we’d crawled out of our bunks, and now he was standing beside the truck I was working on, smoking one of mine while telling me how much better he could do the job.
“You keep tightening that thing, you’re gonna strip the goddamn threads.”
I reached beneath the hood with my wrench and gave the bolt another quarter turn. “You gonna stand there running your mouth all morning, or you gonna make yourself useful?”
“I’m supervising.”
“You’re smoking my cigarettes.”
“Part of supervising.”
“Then supervise somebody else.”
Larry leaned against the fender, grinning like he hadn’t been trying to piss me off for the last twenty minutes. He was older than me, bigger through the shoulders, and had a nose that looked like somebody had tried to flatten it with a shovel. He’d been in country longer, which apparently gave him the right to act like he knew everything about everything.
Most days, I liked the bastard. Today, I was reconsidering.
“Frank, you got that truck running yet?”
I looked around the hood.
Sergeant Wallace stood near the entrance to the maintenance area with a clipboard tucked beneath one arm. Sweat had already darkened the front of his uniform, and he looked about as happy to be awake as the rest of us.
“Almost, Sergeant. Just need to check the fuel line.”
“Then quit fucking around. They need it over at supply.”
“Yes, Sergeant.”
Wallace pointed at Larry. “And you. Quit bothering him and get over there with Curtis. We’ve got another load coming in.”
Larry flicked his cigarette into the dirt. “Yes, Sergeant.”
He waited until Wallace walked away before looking at me.
“See? Now you’ve got me in trouble.”
I pulled my head out from beneath the hood. “Keep talking, and I’ll tell him you’ve been hiding cigarettes in his truck.”
Larry’s grin disappeared.
I started laughing.
“You little bastard.”
“Go to work, Larry.”
He flipped me off and headed toward the supply building.
I watched him go before turning back to the engine.
I’d been in Vietnam a little over two months, and the place was nothing like I’d imagined. The heat was miserable, the rain could turn the roads into a muddy disaster, and half the equipment we worked on looked like it should’ve been scrapped years ago. We were supposed to be winding things down, packing up, and getting the Americans out. That was what the officers kept telling us.
Didn’t stop trucks from breaking down or supplies from needing to be moved.
Didn’t stop the rockets, either.
I’d turned eighteen earlier that year. Before the Army came along, my biggest concerns had been getting enough money together to buy a better motorcycle and keeping whatever piece of shit vehicle I was working on running long enough to get paid.
Now I was halfway around the world, wearing a uniform and carrying a rifle, surrounded by men who’d learned to sleep through just about anything.
I’d gotten better at sleeping since arriving, although every once in a while, something would explode in the distance and remind me that I wasn’t nearly as used to this place as I liked to pretend.
The engine finally turned over on my third attempt.
I listened to it idle, adjusted the carburetor, and let it run while I checked for leaks. When I was satisfied, I dropped the hood and wiped my hands on a rag.
Curtis came around the corner carrying a wooden crate against his chest.
“You done playing with that truck?”
“Just finished.”
“Good. Get your ass over here. Ray’s having a fit.”
“What’s his problem?”
“Somebody sent us the wrong damn parts again.”
I followed him toward the supply building.
Ray was standing beside a table covered in paperwork, arguing with a South Vietnamese sergeant named Minh. The two of them worked together almost every day, and by now they could insult each other in both languages.
“I’m telling you, these aren’t the right numbers,” Ray said, tapping his clipboard.
Minh took the paper from him, studied it, and pointed toward a stack of boxes.
“Those numbers are on that shipment.”
“Then why the hell are they on this one?”
Minh shrugged. “Ask the man who wrote them.”
“I would if I could find the son of a bitch.”
“You complain too much.”
“Everybody keeps telling me that.”
“Maybe everybody is right.”
Curtis started laughing, and Ray gave him a look that promised trouble.
I took the manifest and compared it against the markings on the crates.
“Looks like somebody switched the paperwork.”
Ray looked at me. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell him.”
“No,” Minh said. “You have been yelling about it.”
“Because nobody listens!”
“Everybody hears you, Ray.”
I laughed and handed the clipboard back.
Larry was sitting on an overturned crate nearby, eating something out of a can with his pocketknife.
I stopped in front of him.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
“Eating.”
“While we’re working?”
“Been working all morning.”
“It’s not even nine.”
“Long morning.”
I kicked the side of his crate.
“Get up.”
He looked at me over the rim of the can.
“Make me.”
I reached for it.
Larry jerked it out of my reach, and Curtis nearly dropped the box he was carrying because he was laughing so hard.
“Jesus Christ,” Ray muttered. “It’s like working with children.”
Larry pointed his knife at him. “You ain’t exactly a shining example of maturity.”
“I’m the only one in this building who knows where anything goes.”
“Then why’s everything always lost?”
“Because assholes like you keep moving it!”
Their arguing followed me across the loading area.
I was smiling when the first rocket hit.
The explosion came from somewhere beyond the building, a violent crack followed by a shock that rattled the walls and sent dust falling from the rafters.
I stopped moving.
Before I could get my bearings, another impact struck much closer.
The blast hit the building hard enough to knock me sideways. I slammed into a wooden crate, lost my footing, and went down on one knee as something shattered above me.
“GET DOWN!”
Larry’s voice cut through the ringing in my ears.
I threw myself toward the loading entrance just as part of the roof gave way.
Metal screamed overhead.
A section of corrugated roofing crashed across the storage racks, bringing boxes, lumber, and steel shelving down with it. Dust filled the air so fast I couldn’t see ten feet in front of me.
Somebody screamed.
I crawled toward the loading dock, coughing hard enough that my chest hurt.
A hand caught the back of my shirt.
Larry hauled me the rest of the way behind the concrete barrier outside.
“Keep your fucking head down!”
Another explosion shook the ground.
I covered my head with both arms as pieces of debris rattled against the pavement.
For several seconds, I couldn’t hear anything except the ringing in my ears and Larry shouting something I couldn’t understand.
Then the explosions stopped.
The alarm was going off across the base.
Men were yelling. Smoke rolled past the loading area, and somewhere near the flight line, I could hear the crackling roar of a fire.
Larry grabbed my face and turned my head toward him.
“Frank! You hit?”
I shook my head.
He looked down at my bloody hands.
“Where?”
“Scraped them. I’m fine.”
“Stay here.”
He turned toward the building.
Curtis stumbled out through the dust with blood pouring down the side of his face. He had one hand pressed against his forehead and looked ready to fall over.
Larry caught him before he hit the ground.
“Where’s Ray?”
Curtis blinked at him.
“Inside.”
My stomach dropped.
“Where inside?”
“Back by the shelves. I couldn’t—” He stopped and swallowed. “The whole fucking thing came down.”
I looked toward the entrance.
The front of the building was still standing, but the roof over the rear storage area had partially collapsed. Gray smoke was pushing through the doorway.
“Ray!” I shouted.
Nothing.
I moved toward the entrance.
Larry grabbed my arm.
“Frank, don’t.”
“He’s in there!”
“There’s still shit falling!”
I pulled against his grip, then stopped when something heavy crashed inside the building.
Larry pointed at the roof.
“Look at it, goddammit.”
I looked.
One of the steel supports had twisted beneath the damaged section, and pieces of roofing hung loose above the loading area. Another hard strike could bring more of it down.
I could hear men running across the pavement behind us.
Then somebody shouted from inside.
“HELP ME!”
Ray.
I jerked toward the entrance.
“Ray!” I yelled. “Where are you?”
“BACK HERE! FUCK, SOMEBODY HELP!”
I looked at Larry.
His jaw tightened.
“There’s a side door near the maintenance room,” I said. “The roof’s still standing over that end.”
Larry glanced around the corner of the building.
“Get Wallace.”
I turned toward Curtis.
“Find the sergeant. Tell him Ray’s trapped in the back, and we’re going through the side entrance. Get somebody with a stretcher.”
Curtis nodded and started running.
Larry checked the building again, then looked at me.
“We go in together. If that roof starts coming down, we get the fuck out.”
I didn’t argue.
We ran around the side.
The maintenance entrance was half blocked by fallen boxes, but the door itself was intact. Larry shoved one crate out of the way while I pulled another aside.
Inside, the air was thick enough to make my eyes burn.
I pulled my shirt over my nose.
“Ray!”
“OVER HERE!”
We followed his voice past a row of damaged cabinets.
The back corner looked like somebody had driven a truck through it. One of the tall steel shelving units had collapsed sideways, crushing several wooden crates beneath it.
Ray was lying on the floor with his right leg trapped under the lower frame.
Blood had soaked through his trousers.
He was trying to push the steel away with both hands, his face twisted with pain.
“Frank!”
I dropped beside him.
“Quit moving. Let me see.”
“Get this fucking thing off me!”
“I’m working on it.”
I pulled loose debris away from his leg.
A jagged piece of metal had punched through his thigh. Blood was running around it, pooling beneath him.
My stomach lurched.
I swallowed it down.
“Larry, we can’t drag him. There’s metal through his leg.”
Larry crouched beside the rack and looked underneath.
“Son of a bitch.”
Ray grabbed my shirt.
“Frank, it hurts. Fuck, I can’t move it.”
“I know. Keep your hands off the metal.”
I shoved another broken crate out of the way and studied how the shelving had fallen. The upper frame was wedged against a damaged support. If we lifted the wrong side, we could drop the whole thing on him again.
Larry grabbed the steel.
“Ready?”
“Hold on.”
I crawled around the other end and kicked away a wooden pallet jammed beneath the frame.
It shifted enough to give me a better look.
“We lift from this end,” I told him. “The other side’s caught against the wall.”
Larry moved beside me.
“You think we can get it high enough?”
“We’re gonna have to.”
Something scraped behind us.
Minh appeared through the smoke carrying a length of heavy pipe.
“Move.”
He shoved the pipe beneath the frame and wedged it against a broken timber.
I grabbed the exposed end.
Larry braced his shoulder beneath the steel.
“On three,” I said. “One. Two. Three!”
We heaved.
The frame rose a few inches.
Ray screamed.
“FUCK! FUCK!”
“Don’t pull your leg yet!” I shouted.
My shoulder burned under the weight.
Minh shifted his grip and pushed harder against the pipe.
The steel lifted another few inches.
“Now!” Larry yelled.
I reached beneath the frame, caught Ray around the waist, and pulled him backward while Larry kept the weight off his leg.
Ray’s injured leg cleared the steel, but the piece of metal remained buried in his thigh.
The second he was free, Larry and Minh let the rack fall.
It hit the floor hard enough to shake the cabinets.
Ray was gasping.
I tore open my first-aid pouch and pressed dressings around the metal, trying to slow the bleeding without driving it deeper.
Blood immediately soaked through one side.
“Larry, I need more!”
He dropped beside me and pulled another dressing from his pouch.
Ray grabbed my wrist.
“Frank.”
I kept pressure around the wound.
“I’m here.”
His face had gone frighteningly pale.
“Don’t let me die.”
My throat tightened.
“Help me hold this, Ray. Put your hand over mine.”
He did, but he was shaking so badly I could barely keep the dressing in place.
Larry looked toward the door.
“We need to move him.”
“Not with that thing sticking out of his leg.”
“We can’t stay here!”
I knew that.
I could smell something burning farther inside the building.
Minh took one look toward the damaged roof and ran back toward the entrance, shouting for help.
I looked down at Ray.
“Listen to me. We’re getting you out. It’s gonna hurt, and I need you to keep your hands right where they are.”
He nodded, tears running through the dirt on his face.
I kept pressure on the wound while Larry cleared the last of the debris around his legs.
Curtis came through the side door with Sergeant Wallace and two other men.
Wallace took one look at Ray.
“Jesus Christ. Get that boy out of here!”
“We’ve got metal buried in his thigh,” I said. “We need to keep his leg steady.”
Wallace called for a stretcher.
One of the men ran back outside.
We waited what felt like forever, although it couldn’t have been more than a minute.
Ray’s grip weakened.
“Stay awake,” I told him.
He blinked slowly.
“Frank?”
“Yeah?”
“Tell Larry he still owes me twenty bucks.”
Larry leaned over him.
“You ain’t getting shit until you pay me the forty you owe.”
Ray gave a weak laugh that turned into a groan.
The stretcher arrived.
We moved him as carefully as we could, keeping his injured leg supported while Wallace helped secure it. Ray screamed when they lifted him, and I had to clamp my jaw shut to keep from telling them to stop.
We carried him out through the side entrance.
The sunlight hit me like a slap.
Smoke hung over the base, and one of the trucks near the road was burning. Men were moving between damaged buildings, dragging hoses, carrying equipment, and helping the wounded.
Somebody was shouting for a medic.
I helped lower Ray beside a concrete wall where two medical personnel were working.
A medic knelt beside him and cut away the bloody fabric around his thigh.
“Who dressed this?”
“I did.”
The medic checked the injury.
“Good. Keep pressure right there.”
I did.
He worked quickly, adding dressings and securing the metal so it wouldn’t shift. He checked Ray’s pulse, looked at the amount of blood he’d lost, and called for another stretcher team.
Ray started shivering.
“I’m cold,” he whispered.
I glanced at the medic.
“Is that bad?”
“We’re taking care of him.”
He pulled a blanket over Ray while another man brought over additional supplies.
Larry crouched beside Ray’s head.
“Hey, asshole.”
Ray opened his eyes.
“You keep talking about that twenty dollars, I’m gonna tell everybody you cried when your mama made you get a haircut.”
Ray managed to lift one hand.
His middle finger came up.
Larry laughed, but when he looked at me, there wasn’t anything funny about his expression.
They finally took Ray toward the treatment area.
I started after them.
Wallace caught my shoulder.
“Frank. We need help over here.”
I turned.
There were wounded men near the road.
One was lying beside the truck we’d been unloading earlier.
I recognized his uniform before I recognized his face.
He’d been driving the truck when the rockets hit.
I ran toward him.
He was on his back with both hands pressed against his stomach. His shirt was torn open, and blood covered the front of his trousers.
I knelt beside him.
“Hey. Can you hear me?”
His eyes moved toward my face.
He couldn’t have been much older than I was.
“Help me.”
“I’m getting somebody.”
I grabbed a clean dressing from a pouch and pressed it against the wound, trying to control the bleeding. There was so much blood that I couldn’t tell exactly where the damage started.
He cried out and caught my sleeve.
“Please.”
“I’ve got you. Just keep still.”
I looked over my shoulder.
“MEDIC!”
A man near the wall shouted that someone was coming.
The driver tried to move.
I leaned closer.
“Don’t. You’re gonna hurt yourself worse.”
He made a wet, rattling sound when he breathed.
I could feel his fingers tightening around my arm.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
His lips moved.
I leaned down to hear him.
“Moreno.”
“Okay, Moreno. I’m Frank.”
He stared at me.
“I’m gonna get you some help.”
His grip tightened again.
I kept pressure against the dressing, but the blood was spreading underneath him.
Moreno’s eyes moved toward the sky.
“Ma.”
I bent closer.
“What?”
He tried to speak again.
His mouth opened, but nothing came out.
His fingers loosened.
“Moreno?”
I watched his chest.
It didn’t rise.
“Hey.”
I pressed my hand harder against the dressing.
“Moreno, come on.”
Nothing.
“MEDIC!”
A medic hurried over and dropped beside us.
He checked Moreno, looked at the wound, and tried to find a pulse.
I waited for him to do something else.
Instead, he looked toward another wounded soldier who was being carried from the road.
The medic touched my shoulder.
“We need to get you clear.”
“He was just talking.”
The medic looked at me.
“I know.”
“He was talking to me!”
“Soldier.”
I stared down at Moreno.
The dressing beneath my hand was soaked.
The medic gently moved my wrist away and checked him once more.
Then he took my arm.
“Come on.”
I didn’t want to move.
Moreno’s hand had fallen open beside him.
A plain silver ring hung from a chain around his neck, half hidden beneath his bloody shirt.
I looked at it until the medic pulled me to my feet.
There were other men who needed help.
I went where he pointed.
By the time the attack was over, my clothes were covered in blood, my right shoulder hurt like hell, and I couldn’t stop shaking.
I kept trying to make my hands behave.
They wouldn’t.
I was sitting outside the treatment area when a medic started picking grit out of my palm. The skin had been torn open when I fell, and there were a few little pieces of metal embedded near my thumb.
“Hold still,” he told me.
“I am.”
“You’ve moved three times.”
“Then quit digging around in it.”
He gave me a look.
I shut up.
The antiseptic burned when he poured it over the cut.
“Goddammit!”
“That’s what happens when you put your hand through half the road.”
I looked away while he finished cleaning it.
Larry was sitting beside me with a bandage on his forearm. Curtis had stitches above his eyebrow, and the swelling around his left eye was getting worse.
None of us had said much since they’d taken Ray away.
Every time somebody came through the treatment room door, I looked up.
The medic wrapped my hand and checked my shoulder.
He told me I’d have one hell of a bruise but probably hadn’t broken anything. He gave me instructions about keeping the wounds clean, then sent me back to the bench.
I sat down.
Larry offered me a cigarette.
I took it.
My fingers were shaking too badly to strike the match.
After the second one broke, I threw the little piece of wood onto the ground.
“Fuck!”
Larry reached over, took another match, and lit it for me.
I leaned toward the flame.
He didn’t say anything.
That was probably why I didn’t tell him to leave me alone.
Curtis finally got up and went inside to find out what was happening with Ray.
I watched the door close behind him.
Larry rested his elbows on his knees.
“You got anything you wanna tell me?”
I took a drag.
“No.”
“Didn’t think so.”
I stared at the cigarette between my fingers.
The driver had asked me for help.
I couldn’t stop hearing it.
I was still looking at the ground when Larry spoke again.
“Frank.”
“What?”
“Look at me.”
I turned toward him.
He glanced down at my hands.
“You’re bleeding through that bandage.”
I looked.
A red spot had appeared near my thumb where I’d been gripping the cigarette too tightly.
“Shit.”
Larry took the cigarette, set it between his own lips, and reached for the clean dressing sitting beside me.
“Give me your hand.”
“I can do it.”
“Then do it.”
I tried.
My fingers fumbled with the wrapping.
Larry waited a few seconds before taking it away from me.
“Stubborn little prick.”
I let him fix it.
He didn’t ask me anything else.
Curtis came back nearly half an hour later.
“Ray’s in surgery.”
I stood.
“What?”
“They got the bleeding under control, but that metal tore up his leg pretty bad.”
“Is he gonna lose it?”
Curtis looked exhausted.
“They don’t know yet.”
I started toward the door.
Larry caught my arm.
“Where the fuck are you going?”
“To find out what’s happening.”
“Curtis just told you.”
“I wanna talk to the doctor.”
“And what are you gonna do? Stand there and watch him operate?”
I jerked my arm away.
“Get off me.”
Larry stood.
“Frank.”
“He was bleeding all over that floor. You saw him!”
“Yeah, I fucking saw him.”
“And now nobody can tell us if he’s gonna keep his leg!”
“Because they’re still trying to save it!”
That shut me up.
Several men looked over.
Larry lowered his voice.
“You go charging through that door, you’re not helping him. You’re just getting in somebody’s way.”
I clenched my jaw.
“He asked me not to let him die.”
Larry’s face changed.
He stepped closer.
“And you got him out of that building.”
I shook my head.
I didn’t want to hear it.
Not with Ray still in surgery and Moreno lying dead somewhere behind us.
Larry pulled the bench away from the wall so I could sit again.
“Come on.”
I stayed standing for another moment.
Then I sat.
He dropped down beside me.
We waited.
Nobody made jokes. Nobody argued. Curtis went for coffee and came back with three cups that tasted like somebody had filtered dirt through an old sock.
I drank mine anyway.
Hours later, a doctor finally came out and told us Ray had survived surgery.
They’d repaired the damage to a blood vessel and removed the metal from his leg. He’d lost a dangerous amount of blood, and there was serious muscle damage, but they were doing everything they could to save the leg.
He wasn’t out of danger.
But he was alive.
I sat there with my elbows on my knees and my face buried in my hands.
Larry put his hand on the back of my neck.
He didn’t say a damn word.
I didn’t sleep that night.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Moreno’s hand opening beside him.
I could remember exactly how his fingers had felt wrapped around my sleeve.
I didn’t know where he was from. Didn’t know whether he had a wife or a girlfriend, or whether that ring on the chain belonged to somebody waiting for him back home.
I knew his last name.
That was it.
I rolled onto my back and stared at the bunk above me.
Somebody near the far wall was snoring.
Curtis was asleep with a towel folded beneath his swollen face. Larry had been snoring earlier, but his bunk was empty now.
I sat up, pulled on my boots, and went outside.
The air was cooler than it had been during the day, although my shirt still stuck to my back.
I walked around the corner of the barracks and found Larry sitting beneath the overhang with a cigarette hanging from his mouth.
He looked up.
“Couldn’t sleep?”
I shook my head.
He lifted a can of beer.
“Want one?”
“Where’d you get it?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
I sat beside him.
He handed me the other can.
We drank without talking for a while.
A truck went past on the road, its headlights sweeping across the barracks before disappearing around the corner.
The noise made me stiffen.
Larry noticed.
He didn’t mention it.
I took another swallow.
“His name was Moreno.”
Larry looked at me.
“The driver?”
“Yeah.”
He nodded.
I kept staring at the can.
“He had a ring around his neck. On a chain.”
Larry rubbed his jaw.
“Probably married.”
“Maybe.”
I turned the can between my hands.
“He kept asking me to help him.”
Larry waited.
“I didn’t know what the fuck to do.”
“You put pressure on the wound.”
“Didn’t stop him from dying.”
“No.”
I looked at him.
Most people I’d talked to that day had tried to tell me I’d done everything I could.
Larry didn’t.
For some reason, hearing him say no made me angrier than all the reassurances.
“Then what the fuck was the point?”
He took a long drink.
“What?”
“What’s the point of any of this shit?”
Larry lowered his beer.
I gestured toward the airfield.
“They keep telling us we’re leaving. They’re packing up equipment, handing shit over, sending guys home. Then we get hit, Ray damn near loses his leg, and that kid dies with his fucking hands wrapped around me.”
Larry stared out toward the road.
“Yeah.”
“That’s all you’ve got?”
“What do you want me to say?”
I didn’t have an answer.
He rubbed his face.
“Frank, I’ve watched men die. I’ve carried them. I’ve helped load bodies onto helicopters, and I’ve stood there looking at empty bunks afterward, trying to remember the last thing I said to the poor bastards.”
I looked over.
Larry kept his eyes on the road.
“Sometimes there ain’t a goddamn thing you can do.”
I swallowed.
“I should’ve gotten to him sooner.”
“You were busy getting Ray out.”
“Maybe if I’d—”
“Stop.”
I turned toward him.
Larry was looking at me now.
“You don’t get to do that.”
“Do what?”
“Act like you could’ve been in three places at once.”
I looked away.
He leaned forward.
“Ray needed you. Moreno needed you. Half that fucking base needed somebody today, and you were eighteen years old with two hands and a first-aid pouch.”
I gripped the can harder.
“Doesn’t make it any better.”
“No. It doesn’t.”
We sat there for a while.
I finished the beer and crushed the empty can in my hand.
Larry watched me do it.
“You scared?”
I almost told him no.
The lie was already sitting on my tongue.
Instead, I stared at my wrapped palm.
“Yeah.”
He nodded.
“Me too.”
I looked up.
Larry gave a humorless laugh.
“What? You think because I’m older, that shit doesn’t bother me?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, it does.”
He took the crushed can from my hand before I could cut myself on it.
“I was scared when that roof came down. Then I turned around, and your dumb ass was headed right back inside.”
“Ray was trapped.”
“I know.”
“What was I supposed to do?”
“Tell me where the fuck you were going so I could come with you.”
I frowned.
“You did come with me.”
“After I damn near had to tackle you.”
I looked out across the yard.
Larry bumped his shoulder against mine.
“Next time, you take two seconds and look around. Might be somebody standing right beside you who can help.”
I didn’t answer immediately.
I was thinking about the way the rack had landed across Ray’s leg. How I’d nearly grabbed it and pulled before noticing the metal caught in his thigh.
How much worse I could’ve made things.
“Yeah,” I finally said.
Larry took another drink.
“Good.”
I glanced at him.
“You always this much of an asshole?”
“Only when somebody gives me a reason.”
“Must be exhausting.”
“Being this good-looking? Absolutely.”
I laughed.
It hurt my shoulder, but I couldn’t stop.
Larry grinned, reached over, and messed up my hair.
I shoved his hand away.
“Get the fuck off me.”
He laughed harder.
We stayed outside until the barracks had gone quiet.
Before we went back in, Larry stood beside the doorway and looked at me.
“What’re you gonna do when this is over?”
“Go home.”
“No shit. I meant after that.”
I shrugged.
“Find a job. Work on engines.”
“That’s it?”
“What else am I supposed to do?”
He scratched his jaw.
“Ever ride motorcycles?”
I looked at him.
“Yeah.”
“What kind?”
“Had an old Triumph before I came over here. Thing was always breaking down.”
Larry grinned.
“British piece of shit.”
“Got me where I needed to go.”
“When it ran.”
“Which was most of the time.”
“That’s what everybody with a British bike says.”
I laughed.
“What do you ride?”
“Harley. Got an old bastard back home that’s been sitting too long.”
“Bet it leaks oil all over the driveway.”
“Only because she’s marking her territory.”
“Sounds like you need somebody who knows what they’re doing to fix it.”
Larry pointed at me.
“That’s what I’m thinking.”
I looked at him.
He was still smiling.
“You serious?”
“Why the hell not? You get home, get yourself another bike. I’ll get mine running, and we’ll take a ride.”
“Where?”
“Anywhere that doesn’t smell like this fucking place.”
I laughed.
That sounded pretty goddamn good.
Ray was evacuated out of Vietnam before the end of the month.
We visited him before he left.
He was lying in a hospital bed with his injured leg wrapped and propped on pillows. He looked thinner, and his face was pale, but he was awake and complaining.
That was a good sign.
Curtis walked through the door carrying a deck of cards and a bag of candy he’d managed to get from somewhere.
Ray looked him over.
“What happened to your face?”
Curtis touched the stitches near his eyebrow.
“Roof fell on me.”
“Looks better.”
“Fuck you.”
Larry dragged a chair beside the bed.
“How’s the leg?”
Ray looked down.
“Still attached.”
“That’s a start.”
“Doctor says I might need more surgery when I get back.”
“You’ll be fine.”
“You a doctor now?”
“No, but I’ve met a few.”
Ray reached for the candy.
Curtis slapped his hand away.
“Say please.”
“Give me the fucking candy.”
“Close enough.”
He tossed him the bag.
I stood near the foot of the bed while the other three argued.
Ray opened a piece of candy, shoved it into his mouth, and looked at me.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You’ve been standing there staring at me since you walked in.”
“Just checking how ugly you got.”
“Still better-looking than Larry.”
“Not saying much,” Curtis added.
Larry flipped them both off.
We spent the next hour playing cards.
Ray cheated twice. Larry caught him once. Curtis somehow managed to lose nearly every hand even though he was sitting where he could see half the cards.
I hadn’t laughed that much since the attack.
Eventually, a nurse came in and told us Ray needed to rest.
Larry and Curtis started gathering their things.
I stayed behind while Ray adjusted himself against the pillows.
“Frank.”
I looked at him.
“What?”
“Come here a minute.”
I walked closer.
He reached beneath his pillow and pulled out a folded piece of paper.
“That’s my address back home. My folks’ place. I’ll probably be there awhile.”
I took it.
“Okay.”
“Don’t lose it.”
“I’m not gonna lose it.”
“You lose everything.”
“That’s Larry.”
Ray smiled.
Then he looked at me a little more seriously.
“You got me out of there.”
“Wasn’t just me.”
“I know. Larry and Minh too.”
I folded the paper and slipped it into my pocket.
Ray studied me.
“Been thinking about that day?”
“Some.”
“Me too.”
I pulled the chair closer and sat.
Ray rubbed his hand over the blanket.
“I thought I was dead when that thing landed on me.”
I looked at his leg.
He followed my gaze.
“I couldn’t move. I could hear shit falling, and I kept trying to pull myself out, but every time I moved, it felt like somebody was ripping my leg apart.”
I didn’t interrupt.
“Then I heard you yelling.”
He swallowed.
“I knew somebody was coming.”
My throat tightened.
Ray looked at me.
“I’m glad it was you.”
I stared at him for a moment.
Then I reached over and squeezed his shoulder.
“You better get that leg working. Larry’s already planning some big motorcycle ride when we get home.”
Ray laughed.
“Larry can’t ride worth a damn.”
“That’s what I told him.”
“Tell him I’ll be there.”
I glanced at the bandages.
“You might have to ride in a sidecar.”
Ray grabbed the pillow beside him and threw it at my head.
I caught it.
He started laughing so hard he had to hold his injured leg.
“Get the fuck out of here, Frank.”
I put the pillow back and stood.
“Write us when you get settled.”
“I will.”
“And Ray?”
“Yeah?”
I looked at him.
“Next time somebody tells you to stay away from heavy machinery, listen.”
He flipped me off.
I was still smiling when I walked out.
By January, everybody was talking about going home.
The peace agreement was signed, and the withdrawal we’d been hearing about for months finally started feeling real.
Men were being reassigned, equipment was being transferred, and every day somebody seemed to know somebody else who’d gotten orders.
Curtis was counting down even though he didn’t have a departure date yet.
Larry kept a calendar hanging beside his bunk and crossed off each day with a thick black marker.
I spent most of my time working on trucks, checking equipment, and trying not to think too much about what happened in October.
That last part wasn’t always easy.
A few weeks after the attack, somebody dropped a steel toolbox behind me while I was working beneath a hood.
The crash made me duck so fast I cracked my head against the underside of the truck.
“FUCK!”
Curtis came around the fender.
“What the hell happened?”
I stood, rubbing my head.
“Dropped something.”
He looked at the toolbox on the ground.
“Jesus, Frank. You all right?”
“Yeah.”
He reached down and picked it up.
I was still trying to get my breathing under control.
Curtis noticed.
He set the toolbox on the workbench instead of dropping it again.
“You want me to finish that?”
“No.”
“Okay.”
He went back to his work.
A few minutes later, Larry came over carrying two bottles of water.
He handed me one.
“Heard you tried to knock yourself out.”
“Curtis has a big mouth.”
“Yeah, well, that’s not exactly news.”
I took the water.
Larry leaned against the truck while I checked the engine.
He didn’t ask why my hands were still shaking.
He just stayed there, handing me tools whenever I needed them.
That was something I’d come to appreciate about him.
The bastard talked enough for ten men when he was in a good mood, but he knew when to shut up.
I wasn’t used to somebody knowing the difference.
Our orders finally came through in March.
Larry found me outside the maintenance building and nearly knocked me over getting my attention.
“Frank!”
I turned around.
“What?”
He was grinning.
“We’re going home, you ugly little shit!”
I stared at him.
“What?”
“Orders came through. We’re leaving.”
“When?”
“Two days.”
I looked at the paper he shoved into my hands.
My name was on it.
So was his.
Curtis came running around the corner a moment later.
“Tell me you saw it!”
Larry grabbed him around the shoulders.
“We’re getting the fuck out of here!”
Curtis let out a yell loud enough to bring Wallace out of the building.
“What the hell is all that noise?”
Larry waved the paperwork.
“Orders, Sergeant!”
Wallace looked at us.
For once, he smiled.
“Then you boys better get your shit packed.”
Curtis started laughing.
I looked back at the orders.
Two days.
I was going home.
That night, the three of us sat on the floor between our bunks, sorting through everything we’d collected during the deployment.
Curtis had enough useless junk to fill two duffel bags.
Larry kept telling him to throw half of it away.
I found an old photograph of my motorcycle tucked inside a paperback I’d brought from home.
The corners were bent, and somebody had spilled something on one side, but I could still see the bike sitting in front of the garage.
Larry leaned over.
“That the Triumph?”
“Yeah.”
He took the picture.
“Jesus Christ, Frank. That thing looks like it was held together with baling wire.”
“Ran better than that Harley of yours probably does.”
“My Harley’s got class.”
“Your Harley’s got rust.”
“You haven’t even seen it!”
“Don’t have to.”
Curtis leaned over Larry’s shoulder to look at the picture.
“You two are gonna spend the rest of your lives arguing about motorcycles.”
Larry grinned.
“Could be worse.”
Curtis handed the photograph back.
“You got anybody waiting for you, Frank?”
“Family.”
“Girl?”
“No.”
“Not even one?”
I shook my head.
Curtis laughed.
“Hell, I got three.”
Larry looked at him.
“Three women willing to put up with your ugly ass?”
“They don’t know about each other.”
“That’s gonna end well.”
I put the photograph back in the book.
Curtis stretched out on his bunk.
“First thing I’m doing when I get home is finding a real bed.”
Larry snorted.
“First thing I’m doing is finding a decent beer.”
“What about you, Frank?”
I thought about it.
“I’m gonna find myself a motorcycle.”
Larry pointed at me.
“That’s what I’m talking about.”
“And then I’m gonna ride until my ass hurts.”
Curtis laughed.
“That won’t take long on the piece of shit you’re gonna be able to afford.”
“Better than riding around in whatever ugly car you buy.”
“Least I’ll have a roof.”
Larry shook his head.
“That’s the problem with you, Curtis. No imagination.”
Curtis threw a rolled-up sock at him.
We stayed up too late that night.
Nobody wanted to be the first one to go to sleep.
The next morning, I found Minh working near the maintenance shed.
He looked up when I approached.
“You go home?”
“Tomorrow.”
He smiled.
“Good.”
I leaned against the truck beside him.
For a while, we talked about the vehicles being transferred and the parts he was still waiting on.
Then I pulled the folding knife from my pocket.
It had a worn wooden handle and a blade I’d sharpened so many times it was getting thin.
I held it out.
Minh looked at it.
“What is this?”
“For you.”
He frowned.
“Your knife.”
“Yeah. And you’ve been borrowing it for months. Might as well keep it.”
He laughed.
He took it carefully, opened the blade, and studied it.
“Good knife.”
“Don’t let Larry get ahold of it. He’ll use it to open beer cans and ruin the edge.”
Minh smiled.
He closed the blade and slipped it into his pocket.
“Thank you, Frank.”
I nodded.
He extended his hand.
I shook it.
For a moment, neither of us moved.
I’d spent months working beside him. He’d helped pull Ray out of that building, worked through the same miserable heat, and watched men get hurt while everybody talked about peace and going home.
He was staying.
I wasn’t.
“You take care of yourself,” I told him.
“You too.”
He smiled again.
“Go home. Ride motorcycle.”
I laughed.
“Yeah. That’s the plan.”
I walked away before I could think of something else to say.
The morning we left Vietnam, Larry couldn’t find his cigarettes.
Again.
I was sitting on my duffel bag outside the barracks when he came stomping through the doorway.
“Somebody stole my fucking smokes.”
Curtis looked up from where he was tying his boots.
“Jesus Christ, not this shit again.”
“I had half a pack last night.”
“You smoked half a pack last night,” I told him.
Larry pointed at me.
“You stay out of this.”
“I watched you do it.”
“You’re supposed to be on my side.”
I reached into my pocket and tossed him a fresh pack.
He caught it.
Then he looked at me.
“Where’d you get these?”
“Bought them.”
“For me?”
“No, Larry. I bought them for the fucking general.”
Curtis burst out laughing.
Larry looked down at the cigarettes, then back at me.
“You know, Frank, sometimes you’re not such a little asshole.”
“Don’t get used to it.”
He opened the pack and offered me one.
I took it.
We stood outside the barracks smoking while the other men finished gathering their things.
When the truck arrived to take us to the airfield, I climbed into the back beside Larry.
Curtis settled across from us with his duffel wedged between his boots.
The truck pulled away.
I watched the buildings pass.
I’d spent months wanting to leave, but now that we were actually going, I kept looking back.
We passed the maintenance area where I’d spent most of my days. The truck we’d repaired the week before was parked beside the fence.
Farther down, we went past the supply building.
The roof had been repaired.
New racks stood inside, and men were unloading boxes from another truck.
The place looked almost the same as it had before the attack.
I watched it until we rounded the corner.
Larry was sitting beside me.
He must’ve seen where I was looking, because he put his hand on my shoulder.
I didn’t turn toward him.
He didn’t make me.
At the airfield, we unloaded our bags and joined the other men waiting to board.
Curtis kept complaining about the heat.
Larry told him he’d complain if somebody handed him a naked woman and a cold beer.
“Depends on the woman,” Curtis said.
“Jesus Christ,” I muttered.
We were still laughing when they called us forward.
I climbed aboard the aircraft, found my seat, and shoved my duffel beneath it.
Larry dropped into the seat beside me.
Curtis sat across the aisle.
For a while, we watched the rest of the men board.
Then Larry reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper.
He handed it to me.
“What’s this?”
“My address. Phone number’s on there too.”
I looked at him.
“You expecting me to send you love letters?”
“Only if you learn how to spell.”
I laughed.
Larry leaned back.
“I’m serious, Frank. You get yourself settled, you call me.”
“I will.”
“And don’t forget about that motorcycle.”
“I haven’t.”
“Good. Because I’m gonna get that Harley running, and then I’m coming to New Mexico.”
I folded the paper.
“You don’t even know where you’re going.”
“You just gave me your address yesterday.”
“Thought you lost it.”
Larry gave me a dirty look.
“I’m gonna beat your ass before this plane takes off.”
I laughed and tucked the paper into my wallet beside Ray’s address.
Curtis leaned across the aisle.
“What’re you two planning?”
“Motorcycle trip,” Larry said.
Curtis snorted.
“You ain’t leaving me out.”
“You don’t even own a bike.”
“I’ll buy one.”
Larry laughed.
“With what money?”
“Same money you’re gonna use to fix that pile of shit Harley.”
I looked at Curtis.
“You know how to ride?”
“Can’t be that hard.”
Larry threw his head back.
“Oh, this is gonna be a fucking disaster.”
Curtis flipped him off.
I was still laughing when the engines started.
The sound grew louder, drowning out most of the conversation.
I leaned back in my seat and watched the runway through the small window.
Larry sat beside me with his arms folded across his chest.
For once, he wasn’t talking.
I glanced over.
“You all right?”
He nodded.
“Yeah.”
I followed his gaze toward the window.
He swallowed and rubbed one hand over his mouth.
“Been a long fucking time.”
I knew what he meant.
I looked down at my wallet.
Larry’s address was folded beside Ray’s. Curtis had already told us where to find him when we got back. Ray was recovering somewhere in the States, and if his letters were any indication, he was already giving the nurses hell.
A few months ago, none of those men had meant anything to me.
Now I’d watched Larry crawl into a damaged building after me. I’d carried Ray out while his blood soaked through my clothes. Curtis had come running back into that building with his face split open because we needed another pair of hands.
We’d eaten together, worked together, fought over stupid shit, and sat beside each other on nights when nobody could sleep.
I wanted to see Ray walk again.
I wanted to help Larry get that old Harley running.
Hell, I even wanted to watch Curtis make a fool of himself trying to learn how to ride.
The aircraft started moving.
Larry leaned toward me.
“Hey, Frank.”
“What?”
“When we get home, don’t disappear on us.”
I turned my head.
He was looking straight at me.
I thought about the addresses in my wallet and the men sitting around us.
“Wasn’t planning on it.”
Larry nodded.
“Good.”
I reached across and smacked his arm.
“And you’re still paying for the cigarettes you stole.”
He burst out laughing.
The aircraft picked up speed.
I turned toward the window as the wheels left the runway.
The airfield fell away beneath us.
For the first time since I’d arrived in Vietnam, I was headed home.
I had no idea what I was going to do with the rest of my life. I needed work, somewhere to live, and a motorcycle that didn’t fall apart every fifty miles.
But I had Larry’s number, Ray’s address, and Curtis running his mouth across the aisle.
Whatever happened when we got back, I wasn’t planning on losing touch with those bastards.
Larry settled into his seat and pulled his cap over his eyes.
“Wake me when we’re home.”
I looked at him.
“You gonna sleep the whole way?”
“Unless you plan on talking the whole goddamn flight.”
I shoved his shoulder.
He shoved me back.
Curtis told us both to shut the fuck up.
I laughed, leaned against my seat, and looked out the window one last time.
