Title: Candid
Author: sss979
Summary: Short and fun – the things you can do with a camera. I wrote this a while ago and just realized I hadn't posted it here.
"Face, BA, call fifteen."
BA made a short hissing noise, not quite a whistle, and Face stopped in front of him, looking back through the thick jungle foliage. BA caught up in another two steps. "What's wrong?" Face whispered, gripping the M-16 tighter.
"Hannibal says pull back."
Bewildered by the order, Face stared at BA and the heavy radio on his shoulder, turned up loud enough for only him to hear. "Pull back as in extract?" Face asked.
"No. Pull back as in change course."
Face frowned. They were following about five hundred yards behind Hannibal and the rest of the team. If either of their two groups changed course, they were going to get split up. "Tell him we need a heading."
"10-4, Hannibal," BA hissed into the radio. "Need further instruction."
The numbers Hannibal gave were exactly 90 degrees west of the course he wanted them to take. The team's radio procedures had been established long ago. If there were VC in the area, they probably had a radio. And they were probably listening in.
The jungle rattled with insects calling for more heat. Monkeys screamed in the trees and birds screeched all around them. Face's feet didn't move, but his eyes and his muzzle tracked the area all around him, searching for danger as BA listened to the radio. Finally, he acknowledged and tipped his head away from the heavy radio on his shoulder.
"He says there's a whole convoy out on the trail, headin' right by us," BA relayed. "Wants us to head 205 and he's gonna meet up with us. Also wanted to know if you got your camera."
Face nodded. Not that it would ultimately make much of a difference, but it was always nice to have photos of the VC convoys that operated up and down the trail. The VC who, according to the Cambodian officials, would never operate on this side of the Cambodia/Vietnam border. In reality, the VC were swarming in this area. They couldn't make it out of the chopper without being spotted and tracked.
They backtracked a hundred yards to cover their trail, then turned south. They got to the road just in time to see the approaching convoy. Lying flat on the ground, Face reached into his pack for the camera, and positioned the lens between two of the huge leaves before pressing the shutter.
BREAK.
Face hadn't been sober in four days, and he wasn't sober now. But if anyone could be any more drunk than he was, it was the newly-promoted Captain HM Murdock, who was currently hanging off the third story balcony. How the hell he'd gotten up there, Face would never know. They'd only realized he wasn't in the bar less than a minute before.
"What the hell are you doing!" Sergeant James "Cruiser" Harrison yelled up at him. Face tried to look up, but it made him dizzy, and he had to lean on Cruiser for support. "Get your ass down from there before you break your neck!"
Looking up at the balcony that the very intoxicated man was climbing down from, three stories above the dim streets of Saigon, Face echoed Cruiser's sentiments. "If I gotta explain to Hannibal how you broke your neck on a week of R&R, I'll kill you myself!"
Cruiser grumbled under his breath, something about torture, and stepped back as Murdock jumped the last few feet to the ground. Face lost his support, and found his balance just in time to keep himself from falling on his face.
Laughing and unsteady on his feet, Murdock put his arms around the two men on either side of him. "O dau?" he asked in a drunken slur
Cruiser rolled his eyes. "If you're expecting me to translate for you all night again, you've got another thing coming."
"And if you expect me to dredge up those god-forsaken Language Courses to even try to understand you," Face added, "you can take a long walk off a short pier."
Now it was Murdock's turn to roll his eyes, and he did so dramatically. "How can you live with them and not speak their language?" he cried. "I would go batshit crazy if there were people all over talkin' 'bout me and I didn't know what they were saying."
"Murdock, you're already batshit crazy," Cruiser laughed.
Face leaned into him, concentrating on one foot in front of the other. "Besides, how is that different from any normal day on any one of the bases we've been to in the past six months?"
Murdock laughed. The Yards didn't speak Vietnamese, and their tribal languages were not even among those offered in the Army training courses. "Well, but that's different," he justified.
No attempt was made to clarify how it was different.
"Hey, Faceman, look!"
Murdock was out from between the two of them so fast, Face and Cruiser both fell into each other. Dizzy and laughing, they made their way to the window of the shop Murdock was standing at. "Look man! That's just like the camera I got back home!"
"So?" Face asked, confused.
"So I'm gonna buy it!" Murdock declared, disappearing into the store.
Face rolled his eyes. "Murdock, I got a camera back at the base," he called after him. "You can have it if you… He's not listening."
In fact, Murdock was already gone. Face looked at Cruiser, who shrugged as he leaned back against the store window and lit a cigarette. "Well, look at it this way, Face." He flipped the metal lid of the lighter closed and grinned as he dropped it back into his pocket. "We'll have a lot more fun takin' pictures 'round here than out in the fuckin' jungle."
BREAK.
"You know what the problem is with women?" Cruiser slurred into his drink.
Face didn't look at him. He was finishing the last of his drinking before heading for bed. They went back into the jungle in the morning. "What's the problem with women, Cruiser?"
"Problem is, they cost too damn much."
Murdock snickered. He'd mostly sobered up, and was looking forward to a nice long night's sleep before they got called back out. It had been a fun and well-deserved week off, but it was back to work at dawn. "Weren't you the one telling me you pay the local talent twice their rate 'cause you don't buy cheap whores?" he asked.
"Mmm."
Cruiser was still too drunk to think logically and they all knew it. Face glanced away and Murdock stood up just as the door to the bar opened and Hannibal stepped in. "I'm gonna go crash," Murdock announced. "Have a good night, guys."
"Night, Murdock," Face called back.
"I bet you," Cruiser mumbled, "that Hannibal is here to tell us where we're goin' tomorrow."
Without even looking around, Hannibal seemed to know right where to find them. He crossed the NCO club, exchanging brief words with Murdock, and with a quick gesture to the bartender, sat down next to Face. "We ship out tomorrow afternoon," he informed his team. "Get a good night's sleep."
Cruiser chuckled, clapping Face's shoulder as he stood to his feet. "See? What'd I tell ya?"
"Did BA turn in for the night already?" Face asked as he waved Cruiser away.
"Yeah, he's probably asleep by now."
Face wanted to ask where they were going, but he knew that it couldn't be discussed here anyway. He craned his neck, stretching the muscles in his shoulders. "You need me to get anything before we leave?" he asked.
"We'll be close to a few Montagnard villages."
Face nodded. He'd need to find some stuff to trade with the Yards. "I'll go back into town in the morning before we leave."
"I'll go with you," Cruiser declared.
"You'll be hung over," Face reminded him.
With drunken laughter and uneven steps, Cruiser slid off his barstool and headed to the door. Face shook his head, smiling to himself as the young Sergeant disappeared.
"So I went ahead and developed that roll of film you gave me," Hannibal said. "From our recon the other day."
Face looked up. "Do they have a darkroom here?" he asked, surprised. "I thought you would've just sent the cartridge."
"Ordinarily, I would have," Hannibal answered. "But something told me to take a look at those pictures before I sent them off to the general."
"And?" Face questioned, brows raised. "Any of them come out?"
Hannibal chuckled. "Oh, you might say that." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small black and white photograph. "This one's my favorite."
Wary of the humor, Face snatched the picture out of his hand. It wasn't a picture of the trail. It was a picture of himself, and Murdock, and three Vietnamese women, all in very compromising – and revealing - positions. As soon as he saw it, his eyes went wide. "Jesus!" He slapped the photo face down on the bar.
Hannibal laughed outright. "Wild night, Lieutenant?"
Still holding his hand over the photo, Face looked up at him with a glare. "Where's the rest of them?" he demanded.
Hannibal smirked. "I'll get them to you. As soon as you get me the roll from the recon mission." He stood, and clapped a hand over Face's shoulder. "And after I've made plenty of copies."
Face could feel his cheeks burning hot as he managed a smile that was supposed to be self-assured. He wasn't sure if he'd managed to pull it off. "At least it's a good picture," he managed, daring another glance at it. "With all the arms and legs everywhere, it could almost qualify as abstract art."
"Uh huh," Hannibal agreed with a grin. "And at least I developed them instead of General Westman. That could have been very embarrassing."