Disclaimer: Any copyrighted material that is in this piece of fanfiction belongs to its creator, not to me.
Authors Note: I've done several stories about Mike Franks in Vietnam. This story came about 'cause as usual M E Wofford wants to know more. She wanted a 'Coming Home' story. So, if you want to be up to speed, you can read 'Beer and Memories', 'Remembrance and Responsibility', 'The Arizona', 'Doom on You' and 'I've Seen the Elephant'. Not saying you won't enjoy this story if you don't, but it will provide some context. As I've said before, I've never been in the military or been to Vietnam, but I've known my fair share of Viet vets. Any errors or omissions are mine and mine alone. No disrespect is intended or implied.
Dedication: As we are closing in on July 4th, this chapter is respectfully dedicated to veterans. From the Sons of Liberty to the Continental Army to the current Armed Forces, they're the reason we're all going to be able to 'celebrate the great anniversary Festival…solemnized with Pomp and Parade, with Shews, Games, Sports, Guns, Bells, Bonfires, and Illuminations from one End of this Continent to the other..'. So, Jimmy O, Billy S, Richie G and my cousin Mike, this one's for you guys.
Technical Notes:
Bronze Star with 'V' Device: The Bronze Star is awarded by the US military for bravery, acts of merit, or meritorious service. When awarded for bravery, it is the fourth highest combat award and the ninth highest military award in the order of precedence of US military decorations. The 'V' device denotes the medal was earned in combat.
Combat Action Ribbon: a personal decoration of the USN, USMC, and USCG which is awarded to individuals who have actively participated in ground or surface combat.
MOS: Military Occupational Specialty, your job in the Corps.
0311: Marine Corps MOS designator for rifleman.
Dap: Greeting between two people using shakes, slaps, snaps and other hand gestures. Legend has it that the dap started in Vietnam where it was used by African-American soldiers and Marines.
"It Don't Mean Nothin'": Catchphrase from the Vietnam War. Legend has it that is originated after the 1965 battle of the Ia Drang Valley. A reporter asked a GI about the heavy losses incurred by US troops and the soldier replied, "It Don't Mean Nothin'". GI's started using the phrase as a coping mechanism.
LSU Campus, Delta Tau Chi Fraternity House, 2320hrs
Six months ago Staff Sergeant Mike Franks USMC walked down the stairway from his Freedom Bird onto the tarmac of North Island NAS. He brought back with him several scars, the most prominent on his right thigh, a Bronze Star with 'V', three Purple Hearts, a Combat Action Ribbon and assorted other 'fruit salad'. There were also the memories, some good, some bad, and some horrible. Due to his eighteen month tour (the standard thirteen months plus a five month extension) Mike processed out of the Corps that day. When he'd enlisted the recruiting sergeant offered a two, three, or four year enlistment.
"If you take the three or four year son, I can promise you you'll get your choice of MOS and duty assignment. Take the two year and you're a 0311 with a ticket to Vietnam."
Mike took the two year. He had a personal reason for going to Vietnam, so the Marine Corps' plan and his coincided nicely.
Now he was back at LSU to finish his degree. His 'high and tight' has grown out and a newly cultivated mustache graced his face. Mike was living off campus in an apartment with three other veterans who were taking advantage of the GI Bill to finance their education.
Mike was currently standing in the backyard of the Delta Tau Chi frat house. "Dazed and Confused" by the new band Led Zeppelin poured out of speakers in the upper windows of the house. There were at least a hundred people milling about in the yard mostly drinking, though some were eating. Mike was nursing a cup of beer. He was here because there was a possibility that Marcella Gerrard was somewhere in the throng. They shared a Philosophy class. She let slip that she might be here, so Mike was here. He'd been chatting her up for a week angling for a date. As he scanned the crowd he felt like someone was watching him. It was the same feeling he'd gotten while in the Arizona.
Ease up Mikey; this is home, not the 'Nam.
Even so, he started to carefully check his surroundings. Then he spotted them. Three guys standing on the far side of a line of kegs. When he made eye contact, two of them looked away, but the third did not. He said something to the other two and started to make his way over to Franks. He was medium height short hair, wearing a white t-shirt and jeans. As he got closer Mike spied the logo on the t-shirt, 'NAVY ROTC'.
Oh Lordy.
The guy stopped in front of Mike.
"Are you Mike Franks?"
"Who wants to know?"
"My name's Thad Givens. I take some classes with Andy Thornton."
Mike raised an eyebrow.
"'Doc' Thornton?"
Doc was one of Mike's roommates, a former Navy Corpsman, now studying to be a doctor.
"Yes, he pointed you out to me."
"And?"
"I'm in Navy ROTC. I'll be commissioning at the end of the year. I took the Marine Corps option, so I'll be a Second Lieutenant when I graduate. Andy said you just got back from Vietnam."
Mike was not sure he liked where this was going to go.
"And?"
"What was it like?"
Franks sighed. He'd spent the last six months trying to put Vietnam behind him. He went, did what he had to, getting some payback for the death of his childhood best friend and now he was home. But the 'Nam kept coming back, like that annoying cousin your Mom wanted you to be nice to at family parties. Mike sighed again.
"It was hot, humid, smelled like burning shit and diesel fuel with a little rotting vegetation thrown in. Oh yeah, and these little rice propelled motherfuckers were trying to kill me the whole time. That pretty much sums it up."
"What unit were you with?"
"First of the Ninth Marines."
Givens looked impressed.
"That's 'the Walking Dead'."
"Very good Mr. Givens. I guess they are teaching you something."
"What was combat like?"
Mike sipped his beer and sighed again.
"Mr. Givens, I could tell ya, but ya wouldn't believe me. It's kinda like talkin' to a virgin about sex."
Givens frowned and started to speak. Mike raised a hand.
"Listen, I'm not givin' you a hard time. If you're commissioning in the Marines you'll find out soon enough on your own about combat. In the meantime I'll give you some free advice from a platoon sergeant's perspective. You game?"
Thad nodded.
"Okay. Number one, most important, put your people first. You don't eat until after they do, you don't sleep 'til they've got a place to sleep. Number two; listen to your platoon sergeant. He'll help keep you alive long enough to learn your job. And when you get back..."
IF you get back...
"..we'll talk again and I'll answer any question you've got."
With that, Mike took a scrap of paper and the nub of a pencil that was in his pocket and wrote out his parents address. He handed it to Givens who took it and looked at Mike.
"That's it?"
Mike grinned.
"Yeah. You were expecting maybe the key to everlasting knowledge?"
Givens laughed.
"No, I guess not. Thanks for the talk; I'll definitely look you up when I get back."
With that Givens walked back to his friends.
After Givens went back to his buddies, Mike pulled out his cigarettes and lit one. Prior to Vietnam, Mike wasn't a smoker. One prolonged mortar barrage early in his tour took care of that. As he smoked his smoke and sipped his beer Franks watched his contemporaries cavort in the backyard of the frat house.
Hard to believe half a world away guys are losing their lives, limbs, and minds.
Mike shook his head, trying to clear it. While still in Vietnam he'd heard horror stories of guys coming home to yowling protesters wielding signs and throwing bags of dogshit. When he came home there was…indifference. People around his hometown of Alexandria were puzzled; "You were gone? Where? Vietnam! Was it horrible?"
Well, yeah.
And that was pretty much it.
Mike was all psyched up to defend himself and there was nothing to defend from. Even here at LSU, the demonstrations were pretty tame.
Face it Mikey, you just want an excuse to bust heads.
He laughed to himself and heard a sweet voice from behind.
"Do you always just laugh at nothing?"
Mike slowly turned his head and looked into the amused brown eyes of Marcella Gerrard. Long black hair, 5' 2", Creole accent, wearing a tight white tank top and cut off jean shorts.
"Only if it's funny."
Marcella laughed.
"This is the last place I expected to see you. I thought you said frat boys were 'mindless jerks'."
Mike smirked.
"Yeah, I may have said that. But, their beer is cold."
"What does that have to do with anything?"
"Well darlin', spend eighteen months drinkin' warm beer and it means a lot."
"You're a strange guy."
"I've been told that. Can I get you a beer?"
"Sure."
Mike walked over to the kegs and drew off two beers. As he walked back, he saw Marcella talking with a scruffy looking white guy wearing a Ho Chi Minh t-shirt. As he got closer, the conversation got clearer.
"Why are you talkin' to that baby killer?"
"Because Jerry, he's nice and I don't think he's killed any babies."
Mike walked up smiling and handed Marcella both beers, figuring he'd need two hands for what may come next.
"Yeah Jerry, I'm nice and the only people I've ever killed were trying to kill me."
Jerry snorted.
"You were nothing but the tool of imperialistic warmongers waging war on peasants."
Mike could feel the familiar rush starting to build. He slid his left foot slightly forward, blading his body toward Jerry. Franks started to raise his hands…
Suddenly he felt a large hand on his shoulder and a rumbling voice came from behind him.
"Easy bro, it don't mean nothin'."
Mike didn't need to turn around to know who was there. It was Andy Thornton, big as a Coke machine and black as the inside of a closed closet.
Jerry looked confused.
"Andy, you know this guy?"
Thornton grinned.
"'Course I do. He's my brother from another mother. We've both come from the same place. A place I might add you'll never go to. And for that you should thank whatever God it is you pray to."
Jerry snorted.
"Yeah like…."
Andy raised his other hand.
"Jerry, why don't you run along and make some signs or something before you make some dumb-ass comment that causes me to pound ya."
Jerry opened and closed his mouth, shrugged and walked away. Andy took his hand off Mike's shoulder and stepped around in front of him.
"Mikey, what have I told you about antagonizing hippies?"
"Aw c'mon Andy, I wasn't gonna do anything."
"Yeah right. Who's your friend?"
"Shit, I'm sorry. Marcella Gerrard, Andy Thornton."
"Nice to meet you Marcella. Watch yourself around this one. He's slick."
Marcella laughed.
"Oh, I think I can handle him. I think I can even be able to improve his people skills."
Andy laughed too.
"Riiight. Well, my work is done here."
Andy extended his closed fist and he and Mike exchanged a short dap.
"See ya Andy."
After Thornton walked away, Mike turned to Marcella.
"Whatta say we get outta here and fine someplace we can work on my 'people skills'?"
A/N: Before anyone asks think Bear from the movie "Armageddon" when you think about Andy. Have a great 4th of July.