Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to Wei( or anything like that. So no
suing cause I make no profit from this.
Comments: Here's part three. It's a bit dark, but I like it that way. Stuff actually happens! Whee. I can't actually think of anything interesting to say here. Damn. Oh, you'll notice that a lot of the original characters (or at least names that are mentioned) are nicknames. A lot of the time soldiers went by weird nicknames instead of their actual names, so that is reflected here I guess. And another thing I just remembered. Yuushi (mentioned in chapter two and here) is an actual character from Wei(, sorta. According to the official Wei( Kruez universe time-line or whatever, Ran was in another Kritiker group called the 'Crashers' before he was in Wei(. Yuushi was his teammate in the Crashers. Somewhat little known fact, I guess. Enjoy! Please. R&R!!
Notes:
I could only think of one. "Section Eight" mean clinically insane, unfit to serve.
__________________________________________________________________
Leaving the field behind me, I wondered why I hadn't thought to ask the lieutenant any questions about himself. Outwardly he seemed easy going, perhaps even slightly aloof, but I felt that beneath the surface deeper currents flowed. Youji Kudou was a man who kept parts of himself secret. Takes one to know one. I wondered after his relationship with Fujimiya, and then brushed that train of thought aside. It wasn't worth the effort.
Our barracks had been empty that first night when I decided to turn in early. I'd already missed mess, but I wasn't hungry anyway. All I wanted to do was get my few belongings in order and then crawl beneath my military issue blankets and fall into what I hoped would be a reviving sleep. The weariness that was setting in my bones made me feel as if I was being pulled towards the ground. All I wanted to do was sleep.
My footfalls were the only sound as I made my way down the corridor of bunks, feeling strangely enclosed in the dark, ramshackle barracks building. If not for the fact that my bag was still unpacked and sitting on the end of my bunk I might not have been able to remember which one was mine. Everything seemed to look exactly the same.
I yanked open my duffel bag and began to take out my belongings. I eyed the footlocker at the base of the bed and wondered if it was locked, knowing half of it was mine to use. I began to make three piles. Things that went in the footlocker, things that went under the bed, and things that would remain in the duffel bag. I don't know why I felt it necessary to organize my things in this way. I could have simply left it all in the bag, since it fit there perfectly anyway. I began to wonder if I was becoming obsessive-compulsive. I'd read somewhere that the unpredictable nature of war sometimes drove men to obsessive levels of controlling behavior. I smiled to myself and shoved the thought away. I hadn't been at war long enough to become obsessive-compulsive. I then wondered if I was becoming a hypochondriac. and wondered if thinking you were a hypochondriac clinically made you one. Five minutes later I realized I was on the verge of driving myself insane, and quickly cleared my mind by humming "California Dreaming" as loudly as I could until there was no other sound in my head except that of my own voice resonating through my bones.
As I bent down, shoving my belongings beneath the bunk, still humming loudly, I heard something beneath the bed topple and spill. I cursed, laying flat, trying to squeeze myself under the bunk to see what damage I'd caused. A shoebox had toppled from where it must have been perched on top of Fujimiya's spare boots. The top had of course fallen off and pieces of paper and photographs were scattered around on the rough boards beneath the bunk. As I cursed again, still humming, I thought of what a stupid place the top of a pair of boots was to put a box full of photographs.
I began the task of rounding up the loose pieces of paper, righting the box and dragging it out from under the bunk beside me. As I picked up each glossy print I couldn't help but glance at the pictures, even though doing so made me feel uncomfortable, as if I was a spy. I tried to close my eyes and pay no attention to the images that passed through my hands, but in the end it was no use. I noticed that the face of a pretty young girl showed up several times. She had dark hair in thick braids and a very bright smile. Pictures of back home. I wondered where exactly home was for Fujimiya. I wondered who that pretty girl was to him. There were also a few photographs of men from other places he'd been stationed during the war. One in particular caught my eye. It was a group shot of five men leaning against an UH-1. For a moment I wondered if they had all been friends of Fjuimiya's until I realized that one of them was Fujimiya. He was smiling broadly, his arm slung around a tall, light haired man's neck, the other rested on his hip. After staring at it for a few seconds I realized why I hadn't recognized him at first. It was his eyes. In the photograph they appeared alive, they smiled with the rest of his body. The man who slept above me didn't have living eyes. His eyes were flat and empty. The picture in my hand must have been from when he first arrived in Nam. The thought made me shiver, and I forced myself to hum a little louder.
My hand had come to rest on a folded piece of paper, which I quickly grabbed, stuffing the group shot into the box and out of my mind, and lifted it off the ground. Another piece of paper, thicker, glossy, obviously another photo slid from between the folded sheets and landed on the floorboards. I grumbled and reached for it, know I would have to put it back. I saw something written on the back in a dark, determined hand.
"Because I always loved you best - Yuushi"
Unable to quell my curiosity and feeling doubly the spy I flipped the photograph over. The hum slowly died in my throat, leaving a silence behind that rushed through my ears. I tried to breathe deeply, but my breath was gone. The photograph was a black and white print of a young man sprawled, completely naked, on a rumpled bed. His eyes were closed, one hand brushing up against his cheek, the other caressing himself tentatively. I could hear the sound of blood rushing in my ears as my cheeks flushed and burned. I flipped it over again and read the inscription on the back, just to make sure I had read it correctly the first time, before turning the photograph over once again and returning to stare at the prostrate body of the man on the bed. I had to admit that he was beautiful, and I wondered who had taken the picture, what the circumstances had been. I wondered if the taker had been Ran or if the picture had been taken -for- him. As I stared at his face I realized with a start that he was the same man from the group shot by the UH-1. The man Fujimiya had his arm around. I swallowed hard, thinking about what it meant.
Almost of their own accord I felt the fingers of my other hand sliding the folded piece of paper open. I let my eyes dodge over a few lines and felt my face grow hotter. Love letters I had read, but this was something else entirely. From what I scanned it became clear that the man in the photographs, Yuushi, was not only Ran's best friend, but his lover. They had come to Nam together when Ran had been drafted, not wanting to be apart. He was the man Youji had mentioned earlier that evening, the best friend pilot who's death Fujimiya blamed on himself. I thought how much more guilt he must have felt knowing that the only reason Yuushi had been in Vietnam in the first place was because of his draft. The story began to sound vaguely familiar, and I felt myself becoming queasy. I thought of Canada and Yuriko Asakawa and Kase.
"Hidaka?"
The sound had broken in through my thoughts, ripping apart all the images that collided with each other behind my eyes. I gasped, realizing that the voice belonged to Fujimiya and reflexively jerked my head up, ready to get to my feet. I had of course forgotten that I was halfway wedged beneath a bed. The force of with which my head contacted the beams of the lower bunk was alarming. My ears began to ring with such a force that I began to doubt whether I had even heard Fujimiya's voice.
I cried out sharply and crumpled to the floor, clutching my head and moaning.
"Jesus Christ, what are you doing under there?" his cold voice shot through the ringing in my ears.
I groaned and hastily began to put the picture and paper back together, talking as I did so, hoping he would not hear the sound of paper sliding on paper. "I. I was putting my things under the bunk. I tipped your photo box off of your boots or something and it spilled. I was trying to pick up all the pictures. ugh. ow, my head. I wish you hadn't surprised me like that," I grumbled. Getting angry somehow made me feel less guilty. I wanted to cover up the shame I was feeling at having pried.
"Oh. You want me to get them?"
"No," I snapped sliding my hand over the boards, pushing the last few pictures out from under the bed in one sweep. I made sure that the letter was among them. Fujimiya bent beside me and carefully put the photos back in the box as I pulled myself from beneath the bunk. Getting to my knees I watched him do so and noticed how his hand lingered over the letter.
His eyes narrowed as he caught me looking and I snapped my head away from him hastily, getting to my feet. My head spun, making me sick and dizzy. I sank down onto the edge of my bunk and cradled my head in my hands, rocking back and forth. I told myself that the ache in my head and the fogginess that was playing at the edge of my thought process was just the whack I had given myself on the bottom of the bunk. But I knew that at least half of it was my mind still trying to wrap itself around what I now knew about Fujimiya. The whole episode made my head spin.
I heard Ran slide the box back under the bed. It was loud in my ears and I groaned squeezing my eyes shut.
"Are you ok?" there was no concern in the voice. It was simply a question.
I forced myself to look up. Fujimiya was standing over me, looking at me with his stern, flat eyes. I nodded and put my head back in my hands. "Yeah, I'll be fine."
"Are you sure? Your face is all red. You might have a concussion."
I blushed a little more, knowing the real reason for my flushed cheeks. "It's ok. I'm just a little hot. I'm going to bed now anyway."
I felt him shrug and then swing himself up into his bunk, the bed sagging just slightly as he pushed off beside me. "Suit yourself, Hidaka. It would just be a real shame if you died of a concussion in your sleep before you even got to see some action."
Yeah, and you wouldn't be able to take credit for it then, I'd thought to myself. I didn't way it out loud and was glad. I didn't even know why I'd thought it.
I sat on the edge of my bed for a few more minutes, listening as the sound of turning pages from the bunk above me. I shifted and lay back, tucking my hands under my head. I thought for a few moments before I said anything.
"Hey, Fujimiya?" I called softly.
The turning of pages stopped and there was a momentary pause. "What?"
"I just wanted to let you know that I maybe I understand. And I don't care if I die here."
"..."
"I don't have anything left to live for. That's why I'm here. I know you said you didn't want to know anything about me. but I just thought I'd let you know that I don't care if I die. So if I do. don't feel bad about it."
There was another pause and then a page turned quietly. "I didn't plan to."
I smiled through my headache and wondered what Ran Fujimiya used to be like. "I'm glad we got that straight then."
I fell asleep in my clothes and didn't wake up covered in a blanket by some caring, unseen hand. I hadn't expected to.
* * * * * *
The sudden blare of a horn jolts me back into reality as I step away from the curb. A car races past as I stumble backwards, narrowly avoiding being hit. A spray of water from the street adds insult to injury, covering me with a grimy dampness. Banzai barks frantically from the sidewalk.
Shaking my head the world slowly oozes back into focus. Street lights and power poles, stop signs and roadways all emerge from the fog in my head. I blink as I step back onto the sidewalk, one hand trailing over my dog's head, assuring him that I am alright. He whines and licks my hand. I wonder if I should have taken that third pill after all. There's nothing for it now.
"Come on, boy," I say softly, starting off down the street, pulling my jacket closed against the dampness in the air. I wipe one hand across my brow, hoping to get rid of some of the street grime that car spit on me.
It isn't far from my house to the store. I cover the distance in about ten minutes when I'm not hurrying. I've worked at the grocery store for almost two years now. It really isn't all that much of a job, but I don't really need one. Not with my government check every month. Besides with just me, Banzai, and The Cat I don't have that many bills to pay. It would be a lot worse if I had to pay for my own meds. heaven forbid.
I walk around to the back of the building, letting myself and my dog in through the back door. As it slams shut behind me I hang my jacket on a peg and reach for one of the aprons lined up against the back wall. Banzai trots ahead, past the stack of boxes that never moves to his bed in the corner. I follow after him, peering into darkness of the storage room. I wonder why there are no lights on. "Mare?"
A figure emerges from nowhere, looming in the darkness just beyond my line of sight. Something inside of me tweaks, my breath comes faster, my body tenses. The shape shifts, dodges and then begins to move towards me. I know my fear is irrational. I really should have taken that last pill.
A light flashes up into my face and I nearly scream, covering my eyes and sinking to the floor. The light stays with me.
"Kenny? That's you, enit?" the strong, womanly voice calls out to me.
I gasp, feeling my senses return. I blink rapidly and look up, trying to focus. "Jesus, Mary, don't scare me like that. I get flashbacks and shit, woman," I say, relief leaking out of the corners of my mouth.
"Pish. Me scare you? I thought you were burglarizing me. You're early."
"I have the dog with me, Mare. I couldn't be anyone but me."
"Oh. I didn't see the dog. Well get your scrawny butt off my floor and help me find the circuit breaker. Friggin' lights went out again. The fuse must be blown," she grumbles angrily swiveling the light away from me.
I get to my feet and finish tying my apron on, moving across the floor until I bump gently against Mary's body. It feels nice to touch something alive in all the gloom.
"Don't get cheeky with me now," Mary grunts.
I chuckle. "Don't worry, Mare, I'd just as soon get cheeky with my own mother."
"Speaking of which," Mary snaps, moving away from me. Oh great here we go. "Your mother called here this morning at five AM. I told her that the store doesn't open until ten and that descent people don't get up until around eight. I told her to call you at home next time she feels like chatting at five in the morning. I don't know what gets into that woman's head. I wish you'd just call her, Ken, I really do. I think I've talked to your mother more in the past two year than you have."
I sigh. "Oh, I know you have, Mare. Because I haven't talked to her since I got home from Nam."
I can feel Mary pause in the darkness and feel her sigh into the thick air. "I wish you wouldn't, Ken. I know what it's like to lose a child to Nam. it's cruel to make your mother carry that same weight when you're still alive."
I wish I could melt into the darkness. "My mother didn't lose me to Nam, Mary. My mother lost me long before."
Then the light is in my face again and I can feel Mary's large, solid hand brushing the hair from my eyes. "Oh, Kenny. You're too young to have a heart that's already burnt out. Don't be like that. Call your mother. And for God's sake stop taking those damn pill Doctor Craig keeps giving you!" She snaps the last sentence and then whacks my forehead with the heel of her hand.
I chuckle and step back, fending her off. "Alright, alright."
The light turns away from my face and I see her form shift and move away across the floor. "Yeah, sure. You'll never listen to me. Heaven forbid you ever listen to someone older and wiser. Young people. You think you know everything."
My eyes are flooded with light as Mary finds the fuse box and flips the switch. The electric whine of fluorescent lights begins a repetitive din in my ears. I wince for a moment and then force my watering eyes to open and take in the storage room. So many boxes. All freight that needs to be unpacked. I sigh. I glance at Mary across the room where she is standing triumphantly beside the breaker box. She is tall and stocky. Not a petite woman by any standard, but she has a good heart and a pretty face. At least I think she must have had a pretty face when she was younger. She's my mother's age now, her kinky red hair run through with streaks of white. She grins at me broadly.
"Well, Ken, you're early. Such a good boy. Now why don't you start getting those boxes unpacked so we can stock the store? I've got to go out front and do the tills. Ken? Sweety, you're looking a little bleary today. are you feeling alright?" she asks suddenly, coming towards me.
I think of the car that almost ran me over in the street and of the picture in my wallet and of my pills.
"Yes, I'm fine. I just. didn't get much sleep last night that's all," I say quietly.
She shakes her head. "Don't push yourself, kiddo. If you aren't feeling well, just let me know."
I hate it when she looks at me like that, with those eyes that want to understand. Mary's son was killed in Vietnam. I didn't know him, but then again I didn't know a lot of guys who were killed in Vietnam. The army never gave her an official report of what happened, just let her know that he was dead. They did this to cover their tracks when they made mistakes or when men were killed in 'friendly fire.' In a way I think Mary likes to think of me as a replacement son, a warm body to try and look after. I appreciated her care and concern, but sometimes I just get so weary.
Mary shakes her head and walks out of the back room. I turn and place my hand on the first of the boxes to be unpacked. Produce. Somewhere in the city sirens begin to sound. They echo down the streets and through the alleyways until they find me in the back room. Slowly the sirens begin to sound different. I think about the kid again. the kid. I have to remember. it started with the sirens.
* * * * * *
It had been weeks since I arrived at Pang Nuan base. For weeks we had been sitting on our hands waiting for missions, none came. There was a lull in the fighting, no new troops being sent in, no battered battalions being evacuated. Schu told me this was normal. It was feast or famine. During the rainy season we could be locked down at base for literally months while everybody laid low, too disheartened and uncomfortable because of the rain to actually do anything. I was getting tired of sitting around and doing nothing. The rest of the company save for Schuldich, Farfarello, and the Crew Chief seemed content to ostracize me for being most likely to bite the dust. None of which really bothered me all that much. I enjoyed the time alone, using it to reflect on what I had discovered about Fujimiya and how it might affect me. How he affected me. There was something about him. and it made me wonder.
But that morning there was to be no more waiting. We woke up to the sound of blaring sirens. A call to arms. A call to stations. Before I even knew what was happening I was in my flight suit, racing towards the hangars, Fujimiya at my elbow and Schuldich with Farfarello leading the way. Kudou was waiting for all of us inside the main hangar. He motioned for the 326th to gather around him and began to dispatch orders.
"We have a serious evacuation emergency on our hands. Several infantry companies are under heavy fire from Viet Cong snipers approximately two hundred kliks from here, I'll give you coordinates when you're airborne. The units have been on search and destroy missions, sweeping the jungle for over a month, suffice to say these boys aren't doing so hot. This morning they were ambushed by VC agents, and the word from above is that it is time to get those that are still kicking out of there. We have to exercise extra caution. The terrain is swampy and the canopy is thick. Finding descent landing spots is going to be tough. Gunners, you are going to have to pull your weight to keep on top of the snipers. That's it. Suit up. You know where your choppers are, you know who's flying co and who's flying jump, so get your asses out there and bring those boys home!"
The men gave a collective whoop, clapping their hands together. The crowd of 326th members dispersed, crews hustling out to find their rides.
"Hidaka, Schu get over here," Kudou barked as we turned to leave. We exchanged a glance and obeyed.
"Sir?" we said together.
Kudou pointed a finger at me. "This is your first time out. Jungle flying under fire is not the same as the simulated war crap you got back on the ranch. I want you to follow Shuldich close and stay in radio contact. If you start to get your legs don't be afraid to do your own thing, but on a mission like this it's gonna be best for you to watch and learn. That's it. Don't take stupid chances. any of you."
We saluted and turned away, going to prepare for takeoff. Farf and Fujimiya were waiting for us and took pace as we passed them by.
"Take care of him, Ran," I heard the lieutenant call, "I want that boy back alive."
"Right."
I'd glanced at Fujimiya and strangely enough he glanced back, seeming to give me a nervous smile. It passed so quickly I was never quite sure if I saw it or not, but for some reason just the possibility of it made me feel better.
Sliding into my seat I jammed my helmet down over my ears, adjusting the headset frequency. I could hear Lt. Kudou talking on the other end. He was running check through the pilots.
"Cue Ball?"
"Clear."
"Johnson?"
"All clear."
"Chicken Bone?"
"Clear, sir."
"Schuldich?"
"Queer!"
"Yes, yes, we all know, Schuldich." Even I had to snicker. "Hidaka?"
I glanced around and suddenly noticed that I was not clear. "My co isn't here, sir."
"What the hell? We don't have time for this.," I could hear the Lt. barking something to someone on the other end of the line. Then suddenly a panting figure came up on the chopper and lifted himself inside, plunking down beside me.
"Swanny," I greeted him irritably.
"Sorry, Hidaka. I'm your co. I got confused."
"Lt. Kudou? I'm clear. Swanny just showed up," I said over the headset.
"Thank god! Well, that's everybody. Here are the coordinates.."
I followed Schuldich out of base, keeping close to his right. Every time I looked out the side window and over towards his UH-1 I could see Farfarello making faces at us from the doorway. Thinking of my own door gunner I stole a glance back at Ran who was perched behind the mounted machine gun. One hand rested easily on top of the mammoth instrument of death, the other dangled between his knees. It was odd how at home he looked, just squatting there, waiting for an excuse to shoot some Gooks. His dark eyes scanned the ground below us, searching for any hostile intent or possible sniper fire. Every once in a while he'd fire off a few shots, and I noted that the other helicopters did the same. I wondered if they were actually shooting at anything in particular or just shooting to discourage would be Viet Cong heroes.
"We're coming up on the site. Check the fires, Hidaka," Schu's voice crackled over the headsets. I looked ahead, into the endless swamp and jungle and sure enough it seemed as if the whole mess had caught on fire. In reality the fires were small, a few spread from stray shelling, but to untrained, impressionable eyes like mine it seemed that we had descended on hell itself. The sky quickly became thick and dark with smoke and burning napalm fumes.
"Fly low and slow. Watch for a place to land, don't worry about landing where there's a lot of men. They'll come to you. You just make sure you don't burst a fuel tank on some shit poking out of the ground. I've seen it happen. With the VCs out there you never want to land anywhere that looks too good to be true, because believe me it is," Schuldich said and then cut to radio silence. I felt alone.
Swanny poked his head out the side window and scanned the ground for a place to land. Everywhere around us the sounds of helicopter blades slicing the air and gunfire was deafening. It took me a few moments to realize that the sound of gunfire was coming from our craft. Stealing a glance behind me I saw Ran crouching low over the gun, popping round after round off into the jungle. The smoke was making me dizzy.
Out of nowhere an explosion erupted from the trees to our left. Flames and debris shot into the sky and the force of it rocked the UH-1 like a toy boat in a bathtub. I heard Ran grunt as he was knocked against the bulkhead. I hoped to God he hadn't been pinned by his gun. Swanny and I struggled to control the helicopter which was weaving sickeningly. It took a few moments but soon we were skimming the tops of the trees, scanning for a place to land again. Cold sweat slid from beneath my helmet, and my hands began to feel sticky. I could see men below us, waving their arms, screaming to be rescued, but there was no way I could get to them there. We had to find a decent landing site. Somewhere amongst all that muck and jungle there had to be a place.
"There! There!" Swanny shouted pointing frantically out the window. "There's a spot. It looks like it might be a little hot, but it's the best we're going to find. Take us in Hidaka."
"Roger."
As I maneuvered the temperamental craft over the opening in the jungle that was hardly justifiable as a clearing Fujimiya worked over his gun like a man with no other purpose. He kept rounds going off at a steady, sweeping pace, scouring the trees around us, daring the VCs to show themselves. He'd have to keep us all covered while we loaded with men. I wondered absently why they hadn't put more guns on the damn thing.
We landed and waited, wondering what happened next. I glanced nervously at Swanny who was holding his breath. Fujimiya motioned to us, still scanning the trees.
Swanny left the seat at my side and went to crouch behind Fujimiya, I did the same, removing my flight gear.
"What do you think?" Swanny said loudly to Fujimiya.
"They'll be coming. And they'll be bringing Charlie on their tail," Fujimiya answered harshly.
"Should we send up a flare?" Swanny continued.
"No," I said. "That'll tell the whole damn jungle where we are. The last thing we want is Charlie here before we get any of our men out."
Fujimiya nodded. "Pilot's right. Just sit tight and be ready to load when they start showing up. I have a feeling these boys are going to be in pretty bad shape."
Ran fired off a couple more rounds for good measure. Swanny and I sat back, watching and waiting. We didn't have to wait long. We heard them first, shouting and screaming to one another, rifle fire just out of site. Then our men came out of the trees to our left and it seemed as if they brought all the smoke in the world with them.
The first man reached the doorway out of breath, ragged, bloodied and torn. "Holy shit, thank god we found you guys or thank god you found us. We've got some bad wounded coming through, but Charlie's on our asses."
"Just get in the chopper!" Ran grated, grabbing the man's shirt and hauling him up.
There was another explosion from the trees and in a matter of seconds it seemed as if the chopper was over run by clawing, bloodied hands, screams and shouts. I felt like Jesus Fucking Christ being overrun at the temple. Each hand that reached out I reached back for, hauling every man I could touch up into the ship. The twitching, bloodied body of a soldier passed before me and on to Swanny, his comrade hoping up after him and taking the body in his arms to be cradled.
"We're gonna get you out of here, Hollywood. Fucking eh, we are! You can hack it right, man?!" he screamed frantically.
"Yeah. I can. hack.." I watched, horrified as the man twitched and convulsed one last time and then burbled over with his own blood as it welled up inside of him and came pouring out of his mouth in a red/ black flood. The man who was holding him began to scream his name and sob hysterically. Another man who was standing outside the chopper grabbed at the body.
"He's wasted, man. Throw his ass out so we can fit the living inside!" the man yelled.
The other soldier screamed and clung to the blood-covered body, sobbing and crying the man's name. Eventually the others, both inside and out, pried them apart and tossed the dead man's body back to the jungle. I watched all of this in horror, mechanically continuing to help more men into the hold.
Eventually another man was passed by me. He was screaming at the top of his lungs. Just screaming and screaming. Both of his legs were missing, ragged, bloody strips of flesh dangled from stumps where the shrapnel had ripped through his body. A large black man took this one and propped him up in the back, trying to soothe him. But the man just kept on screaming. He would scream all the way back to base. The sound would ring in my ears forever.
At last it seemed as if the chopper was full. I couldn't imagine fitting another broken and bloodied body in there. As I headed back to the pilot's seat someone cried out.
"Where's the kid? Kid, are you here?"
There was silence save for the screaming and the choked sobs of the man who's friend had died in his arms.
"Shit, we're not leaving without the kid," the man said, moving towards the open doorway.
Swanny leaned out from his seat. "We have to go! We're full. You said Charlie was on your ass we can't stay here!"
"I'm not leaving without the kid, man! If you want to leave my ass here, fine, but I am going back out there and I am finding him!" the soldier yelled, his face contorted in rage and determination. Then he turned to me, his eyes pleading. "Pilot, look man, just give me two minutes. If I'm not back by then leave my ass, but I have got to find the kid. He's our fuckin' mascot, man!"
A few other men nodded. The screaming man went on screaming, the crying man redoubled his efforts. I wished like hell that they would just shut- up.
I looked from Swanny and then to Ran. He looked away. "You're in charge. It's your chopper."
I hesitated, knowing I was wasting time. "Go. We'll wait, but not long. Ran keep us and him covered."
The soldier nodded and then jumped out of the UH-1, disappearing into the smoke.
The moments were tense. The smell of blood, fear, and unwashed bodies was making me sick. The air was thick with smoke and something else that made my eyes burn. I tried to drown out the sound of the man screaming in the back of my chopper but couldn't. I wasn't the only one.
"Ahh!! I can't take it anymore! Somebody shut him the fuck up! Just kill him, at least then he'll be quiet," a starved looking man began to cry, trying to scrabble his way over the bodies to the back of the hold.
"Settle down, Adams, you're acting like a fuckin' section eight! Aint nobody killin' nobody over no screamin'! Now sit yo ass back down before I throw you out of this Goddamned chopper!"
"Argh," the man wailed. "Just make him stop screaming. I can't take it."
"Everybody shut-up!" I yelled, unable to take anything anymore. "I can't even hear myself think. Instead of arguing with each other why don't you concentrate on keeping your eyes open for your companions. Jesus, just shut-up!"
I caught a flash of Ran's dark eyes, but ignored them, leaning forward out of my seat, straining to see into the smoke. And then there it was, a shape looming from the haze. I gunned the blades, readying the craft for lift off. The air power swirled the smoke away from the helicopter like Moses parting the Red Sea. The soldier who had left the chopper a few minutes before was racing towards us, a smaller form slung over his shoulder.
He handed the body up into the hold, five different pairs of hands reached out to receive the body and then cradled it gently. I gave the form a passing glance and noticed that one of his legs was a mass of blood, it appeared that his stomach was bleeding as well. All for nothing, I thought. The damn kid was gonna die anyway.
"Hey, kid, can you hear me?" the man called as he hoisted himself into the chopper.
"Yeah, I.hear you. Jefe," a surprisingly strong, but young sounding voice answered.
"You can hack it can't you, kid?"
"Sure, I can. hack it. Nothing. to. it."
"Good, kid. Hold in there."
With that I sent the blades rotating at top speed and lifted us out of there. Just as I pulled above the canopy line, a company of black pajama clad VCs entered the clearing. They gave off a few parting shots before I watched Ran waste every last one of them with the machine gun. I'd never seen anyone be shot by a machine gun before. I'd never imagined blood could really look like that. like a ribbon slicing the air.
With this thought in mind, I started to hum "Rocky Raccoon" as loudly as I could, trying to drown out the screaming from the back of the chopper and in my own head, and turned us towards home.
Comments: Here's part three. It's a bit dark, but I like it that way. Stuff actually happens! Whee. I can't actually think of anything interesting to say here. Damn. Oh, you'll notice that a lot of the original characters (or at least names that are mentioned) are nicknames. A lot of the time soldiers went by weird nicknames instead of their actual names, so that is reflected here I guess. And another thing I just remembered. Yuushi (mentioned in chapter two and here) is an actual character from Wei(, sorta. According to the official Wei( Kruez universe time-line or whatever, Ran was in another Kritiker group called the 'Crashers' before he was in Wei(. Yuushi was his teammate in the Crashers. Somewhat little known fact, I guess. Enjoy! Please. R&R!!
Notes:
I could only think of one. "Section Eight" mean clinically insane, unfit to serve.
__________________________________________________________________
Leaving the field behind me, I wondered why I hadn't thought to ask the lieutenant any questions about himself. Outwardly he seemed easy going, perhaps even slightly aloof, but I felt that beneath the surface deeper currents flowed. Youji Kudou was a man who kept parts of himself secret. Takes one to know one. I wondered after his relationship with Fujimiya, and then brushed that train of thought aside. It wasn't worth the effort.
Our barracks had been empty that first night when I decided to turn in early. I'd already missed mess, but I wasn't hungry anyway. All I wanted to do was get my few belongings in order and then crawl beneath my military issue blankets and fall into what I hoped would be a reviving sleep. The weariness that was setting in my bones made me feel as if I was being pulled towards the ground. All I wanted to do was sleep.
My footfalls were the only sound as I made my way down the corridor of bunks, feeling strangely enclosed in the dark, ramshackle barracks building. If not for the fact that my bag was still unpacked and sitting on the end of my bunk I might not have been able to remember which one was mine. Everything seemed to look exactly the same.
I yanked open my duffel bag and began to take out my belongings. I eyed the footlocker at the base of the bed and wondered if it was locked, knowing half of it was mine to use. I began to make three piles. Things that went in the footlocker, things that went under the bed, and things that would remain in the duffel bag. I don't know why I felt it necessary to organize my things in this way. I could have simply left it all in the bag, since it fit there perfectly anyway. I began to wonder if I was becoming obsessive-compulsive. I'd read somewhere that the unpredictable nature of war sometimes drove men to obsessive levels of controlling behavior. I smiled to myself and shoved the thought away. I hadn't been at war long enough to become obsessive-compulsive. I then wondered if I was becoming a hypochondriac. and wondered if thinking you were a hypochondriac clinically made you one. Five minutes later I realized I was on the verge of driving myself insane, and quickly cleared my mind by humming "California Dreaming" as loudly as I could until there was no other sound in my head except that of my own voice resonating through my bones.
As I bent down, shoving my belongings beneath the bunk, still humming loudly, I heard something beneath the bed topple and spill. I cursed, laying flat, trying to squeeze myself under the bunk to see what damage I'd caused. A shoebox had toppled from where it must have been perched on top of Fujimiya's spare boots. The top had of course fallen off and pieces of paper and photographs were scattered around on the rough boards beneath the bunk. As I cursed again, still humming, I thought of what a stupid place the top of a pair of boots was to put a box full of photographs.
I began the task of rounding up the loose pieces of paper, righting the box and dragging it out from under the bunk beside me. As I picked up each glossy print I couldn't help but glance at the pictures, even though doing so made me feel uncomfortable, as if I was a spy. I tried to close my eyes and pay no attention to the images that passed through my hands, but in the end it was no use. I noticed that the face of a pretty young girl showed up several times. She had dark hair in thick braids and a very bright smile. Pictures of back home. I wondered where exactly home was for Fujimiya. I wondered who that pretty girl was to him. There were also a few photographs of men from other places he'd been stationed during the war. One in particular caught my eye. It was a group shot of five men leaning against an UH-1. For a moment I wondered if they had all been friends of Fjuimiya's until I realized that one of them was Fujimiya. He was smiling broadly, his arm slung around a tall, light haired man's neck, the other rested on his hip. After staring at it for a few seconds I realized why I hadn't recognized him at first. It was his eyes. In the photograph they appeared alive, they smiled with the rest of his body. The man who slept above me didn't have living eyes. His eyes were flat and empty. The picture in my hand must have been from when he first arrived in Nam. The thought made me shiver, and I forced myself to hum a little louder.
My hand had come to rest on a folded piece of paper, which I quickly grabbed, stuffing the group shot into the box and out of my mind, and lifted it off the ground. Another piece of paper, thicker, glossy, obviously another photo slid from between the folded sheets and landed on the floorboards. I grumbled and reached for it, know I would have to put it back. I saw something written on the back in a dark, determined hand.
"Because I always loved you best - Yuushi"
Unable to quell my curiosity and feeling doubly the spy I flipped the photograph over. The hum slowly died in my throat, leaving a silence behind that rushed through my ears. I tried to breathe deeply, but my breath was gone. The photograph was a black and white print of a young man sprawled, completely naked, on a rumpled bed. His eyes were closed, one hand brushing up against his cheek, the other caressing himself tentatively. I could hear the sound of blood rushing in my ears as my cheeks flushed and burned. I flipped it over again and read the inscription on the back, just to make sure I had read it correctly the first time, before turning the photograph over once again and returning to stare at the prostrate body of the man on the bed. I had to admit that he was beautiful, and I wondered who had taken the picture, what the circumstances had been. I wondered if the taker had been Ran or if the picture had been taken -for- him. As I stared at his face I realized with a start that he was the same man from the group shot by the UH-1. The man Fujimiya had his arm around. I swallowed hard, thinking about what it meant.
Almost of their own accord I felt the fingers of my other hand sliding the folded piece of paper open. I let my eyes dodge over a few lines and felt my face grow hotter. Love letters I had read, but this was something else entirely. From what I scanned it became clear that the man in the photographs, Yuushi, was not only Ran's best friend, but his lover. They had come to Nam together when Ran had been drafted, not wanting to be apart. He was the man Youji had mentioned earlier that evening, the best friend pilot who's death Fujimiya blamed on himself. I thought how much more guilt he must have felt knowing that the only reason Yuushi had been in Vietnam in the first place was because of his draft. The story began to sound vaguely familiar, and I felt myself becoming queasy. I thought of Canada and Yuriko Asakawa and Kase.
"Hidaka?"
The sound had broken in through my thoughts, ripping apart all the images that collided with each other behind my eyes. I gasped, realizing that the voice belonged to Fujimiya and reflexively jerked my head up, ready to get to my feet. I had of course forgotten that I was halfway wedged beneath a bed. The force of with which my head contacted the beams of the lower bunk was alarming. My ears began to ring with such a force that I began to doubt whether I had even heard Fujimiya's voice.
I cried out sharply and crumpled to the floor, clutching my head and moaning.
"Jesus Christ, what are you doing under there?" his cold voice shot through the ringing in my ears.
I groaned and hastily began to put the picture and paper back together, talking as I did so, hoping he would not hear the sound of paper sliding on paper. "I. I was putting my things under the bunk. I tipped your photo box off of your boots or something and it spilled. I was trying to pick up all the pictures. ugh. ow, my head. I wish you hadn't surprised me like that," I grumbled. Getting angry somehow made me feel less guilty. I wanted to cover up the shame I was feeling at having pried.
"Oh. You want me to get them?"
"No," I snapped sliding my hand over the boards, pushing the last few pictures out from under the bed in one sweep. I made sure that the letter was among them. Fujimiya bent beside me and carefully put the photos back in the box as I pulled myself from beneath the bunk. Getting to my knees I watched him do so and noticed how his hand lingered over the letter.
His eyes narrowed as he caught me looking and I snapped my head away from him hastily, getting to my feet. My head spun, making me sick and dizzy. I sank down onto the edge of my bunk and cradled my head in my hands, rocking back and forth. I told myself that the ache in my head and the fogginess that was playing at the edge of my thought process was just the whack I had given myself on the bottom of the bunk. But I knew that at least half of it was my mind still trying to wrap itself around what I now knew about Fujimiya. The whole episode made my head spin.
I heard Ran slide the box back under the bed. It was loud in my ears and I groaned squeezing my eyes shut.
"Are you ok?" there was no concern in the voice. It was simply a question.
I forced myself to look up. Fujimiya was standing over me, looking at me with his stern, flat eyes. I nodded and put my head back in my hands. "Yeah, I'll be fine."
"Are you sure? Your face is all red. You might have a concussion."
I blushed a little more, knowing the real reason for my flushed cheeks. "It's ok. I'm just a little hot. I'm going to bed now anyway."
I felt him shrug and then swing himself up into his bunk, the bed sagging just slightly as he pushed off beside me. "Suit yourself, Hidaka. It would just be a real shame if you died of a concussion in your sleep before you even got to see some action."
Yeah, and you wouldn't be able to take credit for it then, I'd thought to myself. I didn't way it out loud and was glad. I didn't even know why I'd thought it.
I sat on the edge of my bed for a few more minutes, listening as the sound of turning pages from the bunk above me. I shifted and lay back, tucking my hands under my head. I thought for a few moments before I said anything.
"Hey, Fujimiya?" I called softly.
The turning of pages stopped and there was a momentary pause. "What?"
"I just wanted to let you know that I maybe I understand. And I don't care if I die here."
"..."
"I don't have anything left to live for. That's why I'm here. I know you said you didn't want to know anything about me. but I just thought I'd let you know that I don't care if I die. So if I do. don't feel bad about it."
There was another pause and then a page turned quietly. "I didn't plan to."
I smiled through my headache and wondered what Ran Fujimiya used to be like. "I'm glad we got that straight then."
I fell asleep in my clothes and didn't wake up covered in a blanket by some caring, unseen hand. I hadn't expected to.
* * * * * *
The sudden blare of a horn jolts me back into reality as I step away from the curb. A car races past as I stumble backwards, narrowly avoiding being hit. A spray of water from the street adds insult to injury, covering me with a grimy dampness. Banzai barks frantically from the sidewalk.
Shaking my head the world slowly oozes back into focus. Street lights and power poles, stop signs and roadways all emerge from the fog in my head. I blink as I step back onto the sidewalk, one hand trailing over my dog's head, assuring him that I am alright. He whines and licks my hand. I wonder if I should have taken that third pill after all. There's nothing for it now.
"Come on, boy," I say softly, starting off down the street, pulling my jacket closed against the dampness in the air. I wipe one hand across my brow, hoping to get rid of some of the street grime that car spit on me.
It isn't far from my house to the store. I cover the distance in about ten minutes when I'm not hurrying. I've worked at the grocery store for almost two years now. It really isn't all that much of a job, but I don't really need one. Not with my government check every month. Besides with just me, Banzai, and The Cat I don't have that many bills to pay. It would be a lot worse if I had to pay for my own meds. heaven forbid.
I walk around to the back of the building, letting myself and my dog in through the back door. As it slams shut behind me I hang my jacket on a peg and reach for one of the aprons lined up against the back wall. Banzai trots ahead, past the stack of boxes that never moves to his bed in the corner. I follow after him, peering into darkness of the storage room. I wonder why there are no lights on. "Mare?"
A figure emerges from nowhere, looming in the darkness just beyond my line of sight. Something inside of me tweaks, my breath comes faster, my body tenses. The shape shifts, dodges and then begins to move towards me. I know my fear is irrational. I really should have taken that last pill.
A light flashes up into my face and I nearly scream, covering my eyes and sinking to the floor. The light stays with me.
"Kenny? That's you, enit?" the strong, womanly voice calls out to me.
I gasp, feeling my senses return. I blink rapidly and look up, trying to focus. "Jesus, Mary, don't scare me like that. I get flashbacks and shit, woman," I say, relief leaking out of the corners of my mouth.
"Pish. Me scare you? I thought you were burglarizing me. You're early."
"I have the dog with me, Mare. I couldn't be anyone but me."
"Oh. I didn't see the dog. Well get your scrawny butt off my floor and help me find the circuit breaker. Friggin' lights went out again. The fuse must be blown," she grumbles angrily swiveling the light away from me.
I get to my feet and finish tying my apron on, moving across the floor until I bump gently against Mary's body. It feels nice to touch something alive in all the gloom.
"Don't get cheeky with me now," Mary grunts.
I chuckle. "Don't worry, Mare, I'd just as soon get cheeky with my own mother."
"Speaking of which," Mary snaps, moving away from me. Oh great here we go. "Your mother called here this morning at five AM. I told her that the store doesn't open until ten and that descent people don't get up until around eight. I told her to call you at home next time she feels like chatting at five in the morning. I don't know what gets into that woman's head. I wish you'd just call her, Ken, I really do. I think I've talked to your mother more in the past two year than you have."
I sigh. "Oh, I know you have, Mare. Because I haven't talked to her since I got home from Nam."
I can feel Mary pause in the darkness and feel her sigh into the thick air. "I wish you wouldn't, Ken. I know what it's like to lose a child to Nam. it's cruel to make your mother carry that same weight when you're still alive."
I wish I could melt into the darkness. "My mother didn't lose me to Nam, Mary. My mother lost me long before."
Then the light is in my face again and I can feel Mary's large, solid hand brushing the hair from my eyes. "Oh, Kenny. You're too young to have a heart that's already burnt out. Don't be like that. Call your mother. And for God's sake stop taking those damn pill Doctor Craig keeps giving you!" She snaps the last sentence and then whacks my forehead with the heel of her hand.
I chuckle and step back, fending her off. "Alright, alright."
The light turns away from my face and I see her form shift and move away across the floor. "Yeah, sure. You'll never listen to me. Heaven forbid you ever listen to someone older and wiser. Young people. You think you know everything."
My eyes are flooded with light as Mary finds the fuse box and flips the switch. The electric whine of fluorescent lights begins a repetitive din in my ears. I wince for a moment and then force my watering eyes to open and take in the storage room. So many boxes. All freight that needs to be unpacked. I sigh. I glance at Mary across the room where she is standing triumphantly beside the breaker box. She is tall and stocky. Not a petite woman by any standard, but she has a good heart and a pretty face. At least I think she must have had a pretty face when she was younger. She's my mother's age now, her kinky red hair run through with streaks of white. She grins at me broadly.
"Well, Ken, you're early. Such a good boy. Now why don't you start getting those boxes unpacked so we can stock the store? I've got to go out front and do the tills. Ken? Sweety, you're looking a little bleary today. are you feeling alright?" she asks suddenly, coming towards me.
I think of the car that almost ran me over in the street and of the picture in my wallet and of my pills.
"Yes, I'm fine. I just. didn't get much sleep last night that's all," I say quietly.
She shakes her head. "Don't push yourself, kiddo. If you aren't feeling well, just let me know."
I hate it when she looks at me like that, with those eyes that want to understand. Mary's son was killed in Vietnam. I didn't know him, but then again I didn't know a lot of guys who were killed in Vietnam. The army never gave her an official report of what happened, just let her know that he was dead. They did this to cover their tracks when they made mistakes or when men were killed in 'friendly fire.' In a way I think Mary likes to think of me as a replacement son, a warm body to try and look after. I appreciated her care and concern, but sometimes I just get so weary.
Mary shakes her head and walks out of the back room. I turn and place my hand on the first of the boxes to be unpacked. Produce. Somewhere in the city sirens begin to sound. They echo down the streets and through the alleyways until they find me in the back room. Slowly the sirens begin to sound different. I think about the kid again. the kid. I have to remember. it started with the sirens.
* * * * * *
It had been weeks since I arrived at Pang Nuan base. For weeks we had been sitting on our hands waiting for missions, none came. There was a lull in the fighting, no new troops being sent in, no battered battalions being evacuated. Schu told me this was normal. It was feast or famine. During the rainy season we could be locked down at base for literally months while everybody laid low, too disheartened and uncomfortable because of the rain to actually do anything. I was getting tired of sitting around and doing nothing. The rest of the company save for Schuldich, Farfarello, and the Crew Chief seemed content to ostracize me for being most likely to bite the dust. None of which really bothered me all that much. I enjoyed the time alone, using it to reflect on what I had discovered about Fujimiya and how it might affect me. How he affected me. There was something about him. and it made me wonder.
But that morning there was to be no more waiting. We woke up to the sound of blaring sirens. A call to arms. A call to stations. Before I even knew what was happening I was in my flight suit, racing towards the hangars, Fujimiya at my elbow and Schuldich with Farfarello leading the way. Kudou was waiting for all of us inside the main hangar. He motioned for the 326th to gather around him and began to dispatch orders.
"We have a serious evacuation emergency on our hands. Several infantry companies are under heavy fire from Viet Cong snipers approximately two hundred kliks from here, I'll give you coordinates when you're airborne. The units have been on search and destroy missions, sweeping the jungle for over a month, suffice to say these boys aren't doing so hot. This morning they were ambushed by VC agents, and the word from above is that it is time to get those that are still kicking out of there. We have to exercise extra caution. The terrain is swampy and the canopy is thick. Finding descent landing spots is going to be tough. Gunners, you are going to have to pull your weight to keep on top of the snipers. That's it. Suit up. You know where your choppers are, you know who's flying co and who's flying jump, so get your asses out there and bring those boys home!"
The men gave a collective whoop, clapping their hands together. The crowd of 326th members dispersed, crews hustling out to find their rides.
"Hidaka, Schu get over here," Kudou barked as we turned to leave. We exchanged a glance and obeyed.
"Sir?" we said together.
Kudou pointed a finger at me. "This is your first time out. Jungle flying under fire is not the same as the simulated war crap you got back on the ranch. I want you to follow Shuldich close and stay in radio contact. If you start to get your legs don't be afraid to do your own thing, but on a mission like this it's gonna be best for you to watch and learn. That's it. Don't take stupid chances. any of you."
We saluted and turned away, going to prepare for takeoff. Farf and Fujimiya were waiting for us and took pace as we passed them by.
"Take care of him, Ran," I heard the lieutenant call, "I want that boy back alive."
"Right."
I'd glanced at Fujimiya and strangely enough he glanced back, seeming to give me a nervous smile. It passed so quickly I was never quite sure if I saw it or not, but for some reason just the possibility of it made me feel better.
Sliding into my seat I jammed my helmet down over my ears, adjusting the headset frequency. I could hear Lt. Kudou talking on the other end. He was running check through the pilots.
"Cue Ball?"
"Clear."
"Johnson?"
"All clear."
"Chicken Bone?"
"Clear, sir."
"Schuldich?"
"Queer!"
"Yes, yes, we all know, Schuldich." Even I had to snicker. "Hidaka?"
I glanced around and suddenly noticed that I was not clear. "My co isn't here, sir."
"What the hell? We don't have time for this.," I could hear the Lt. barking something to someone on the other end of the line. Then suddenly a panting figure came up on the chopper and lifted himself inside, plunking down beside me.
"Swanny," I greeted him irritably.
"Sorry, Hidaka. I'm your co. I got confused."
"Lt. Kudou? I'm clear. Swanny just showed up," I said over the headset.
"Thank god! Well, that's everybody. Here are the coordinates.."
I followed Schuldich out of base, keeping close to his right. Every time I looked out the side window and over towards his UH-1 I could see Farfarello making faces at us from the doorway. Thinking of my own door gunner I stole a glance back at Ran who was perched behind the mounted machine gun. One hand rested easily on top of the mammoth instrument of death, the other dangled between his knees. It was odd how at home he looked, just squatting there, waiting for an excuse to shoot some Gooks. His dark eyes scanned the ground below us, searching for any hostile intent or possible sniper fire. Every once in a while he'd fire off a few shots, and I noted that the other helicopters did the same. I wondered if they were actually shooting at anything in particular or just shooting to discourage would be Viet Cong heroes.
"We're coming up on the site. Check the fires, Hidaka," Schu's voice crackled over the headsets. I looked ahead, into the endless swamp and jungle and sure enough it seemed as if the whole mess had caught on fire. In reality the fires were small, a few spread from stray shelling, but to untrained, impressionable eyes like mine it seemed that we had descended on hell itself. The sky quickly became thick and dark with smoke and burning napalm fumes.
"Fly low and slow. Watch for a place to land, don't worry about landing where there's a lot of men. They'll come to you. You just make sure you don't burst a fuel tank on some shit poking out of the ground. I've seen it happen. With the VCs out there you never want to land anywhere that looks too good to be true, because believe me it is," Schuldich said and then cut to radio silence. I felt alone.
Swanny poked his head out the side window and scanned the ground for a place to land. Everywhere around us the sounds of helicopter blades slicing the air and gunfire was deafening. It took me a few moments to realize that the sound of gunfire was coming from our craft. Stealing a glance behind me I saw Ran crouching low over the gun, popping round after round off into the jungle. The smoke was making me dizzy.
Out of nowhere an explosion erupted from the trees to our left. Flames and debris shot into the sky and the force of it rocked the UH-1 like a toy boat in a bathtub. I heard Ran grunt as he was knocked against the bulkhead. I hoped to God he hadn't been pinned by his gun. Swanny and I struggled to control the helicopter which was weaving sickeningly. It took a few moments but soon we were skimming the tops of the trees, scanning for a place to land again. Cold sweat slid from beneath my helmet, and my hands began to feel sticky. I could see men below us, waving their arms, screaming to be rescued, but there was no way I could get to them there. We had to find a decent landing site. Somewhere amongst all that muck and jungle there had to be a place.
"There! There!" Swanny shouted pointing frantically out the window. "There's a spot. It looks like it might be a little hot, but it's the best we're going to find. Take us in Hidaka."
"Roger."
As I maneuvered the temperamental craft over the opening in the jungle that was hardly justifiable as a clearing Fujimiya worked over his gun like a man with no other purpose. He kept rounds going off at a steady, sweeping pace, scouring the trees around us, daring the VCs to show themselves. He'd have to keep us all covered while we loaded with men. I wondered absently why they hadn't put more guns on the damn thing.
We landed and waited, wondering what happened next. I glanced nervously at Swanny who was holding his breath. Fujimiya motioned to us, still scanning the trees.
Swanny left the seat at my side and went to crouch behind Fujimiya, I did the same, removing my flight gear.
"What do you think?" Swanny said loudly to Fujimiya.
"They'll be coming. And they'll be bringing Charlie on their tail," Fujimiya answered harshly.
"Should we send up a flare?" Swanny continued.
"No," I said. "That'll tell the whole damn jungle where we are. The last thing we want is Charlie here before we get any of our men out."
Fujimiya nodded. "Pilot's right. Just sit tight and be ready to load when they start showing up. I have a feeling these boys are going to be in pretty bad shape."
Ran fired off a couple more rounds for good measure. Swanny and I sat back, watching and waiting. We didn't have to wait long. We heard them first, shouting and screaming to one another, rifle fire just out of site. Then our men came out of the trees to our left and it seemed as if they brought all the smoke in the world with them.
The first man reached the doorway out of breath, ragged, bloodied and torn. "Holy shit, thank god we found you guys or thank god you found us. We've got some bad wounded coming through, but Charlie's on our asses."
"Just get in the chopper!" Ran grated, grabbing the man's shirt and hauling him up.
There was another explosion from the trees and in a matter of seconds it seemed as if the chopper was over run by clawing, bloodied hands, screams and shouts. I felt like Jesus Fucking Christ being overrun at the temple. Each hand that reached out I reached back for, hauling every man I could touch up into the ship. The twitching, bloodied body of a soldier passed before me and on to Swanny, his comrade hoping up after him and taking the body in his arms to be cradled.
"We're gonna get you out of here, Hollywood. Fucking eh, we are! You can hack it right, man?!" he screamed frantically.
"Yeah. I can. hack.." I watched, horrified as the man twitched and convulsed one last time and then burbled over with his own blood as it welled up inside of him and came pouring out of his mouth in a red/ black flood. The man who was holding him began to scream his name and sob hysterically. Another man who was standing outside the chopper grabbed at the body.
"He's wasted, man. Throw his ass out so we can fit the living inside!" the man yelled.
The other soldier screamed and clung to the blood-covered body, sobbing and crying the man's name. Eventually the others, both inside and out, pried them apart and tossed the dead man's body back to the jungle. I watched all of this in horror, mechanically continuing to help more men into the hold.
Eventually another man was passed by me. He was screaming at the top of his lungs. Just screaming and screaming. Both of his legs were missing, ragged, bloody strips of flesh dangled from stumps where the shrapnel had ripped through his body. A large black man took this one and propped him up in the back, trying to soothe him. But the man just kept on screaming. He would scream all the way back to base. The sound would ring in my ears forever.
At last it seemed as if the chopper was full. I couldn't imagine fitting another broken and bloodied body in there. As I headed back to the pilot's seat someone cried out.
"Where's the kid? Kid, are you here?"
There was silence save for the screaming and the choked sobs of the man who's friend had died in his arms.
"Shit, we're not leaving without the kid," the man said, moving towards the open doorway.
Swanny leaned out from his seat. "We have to go! We're full. You said Charlie was on your ass we can't stay here!"
"I'm not leaving without the kid, man! If you want to leave my ass here, fine, but I am going back out there and I am finding him!" the soldier yelled, his face contorted in rage and determination. Then he turned to me, his eyes pleading. "Pilot, look man, just give me two minutes. If I'm not back by then leave my ass, but I have got to find the kid. He's our fuckin' mascot, man!"
A few other men nodded. The screaming man went on screaming, the crying man redoubled his efforts. I wished like hell that they would just shut- up.
I looked from Swanny and then to Ran. He looked away. "You're in charge. It's your chopper."
I hesitated, knowing I was wasting time. "Go. We'll wait, but not long. Ran keep us and him covered."
The soldier nodded and then jumped out of the UH-1, disappearing into the smoke.
The moments were tense. The smell of blood, fear, and unwashed bodies was making me sick. The air was thick with smoke and something else that made my eyes burn. I tried to drown out the sound of the man screaming in the back of my chopper but couldn't. I wasn't the only one.
"Ahh!! I can't take it anymore! Somebody shut him the fuck up! Just kill him, at least then he'll be quiet," a starved looking man began to cry, trying to scrabble his way over the bodies to the back of the hold.
"Settle down, Adams, you're acting like a fuckin' section eight! Aint nobody killin' nobody over no screamin'! Now sit yo ass back down before I throw you out of this Goddamned chopper!"
"Argh," the man wailed. "Just make him stop screaming. I can't take it."
"Everybody shut-up!" I yelled, unable to take anything anymore. "I can't even hear myself think. Instead of arguing with each other why don't you concentrate on keeping your eyes open for your companions. Jesus, just shut-up!"
I caught a flash of Ran's dark eyes, but ignored them, leaning forward out of my seat, straining to see into the smoke. And then there it was, a shape looming from the haze. I gunned the blades, readying the craft for lift off. The air power swirled the smoke away from the helicopter like Moses parting the Red Sea. The soldier who had left the chopper a few minutes before was racing towards us, a smaller form slung over his shoulder.
He handed the body up into the hold, five different pairs of hands reached out to receive the body and then cradled it gently. I gave the form a passing glance and noticed that one of his legs was a mass of blood, it appeared that his stomach was bleeding as well. All for nothing, I thought. The damn kid was gonna die anyway.
"Hey, kid, can you hear me?" the man called as he hoisted himself into the chopper.
"Yeah, I.hear you. Jefe," a surprisingly strong, but young sounding voice answered.
"You can hack it can't you, kid?"
"Sure, I can. hack it. Nothing. to. it."
"Good, kid. Hold in there."
With that I sent the blades rotating at top speed and lifted us out of there. Just as I pulled above the canopy line, a company of black pajama clad VCs entered the clearing. They gave off a few parting shots before I watched Ran waste every last one of them with the machine gun. I'd never seen anyone be shot by a machine gun before. I'd never imagined blood could really look like that. like a ribbon slicing the air.
With this thought in mind, I started to hum "Rocky Raccoon" as loudly as I could, trying to drown out the screaming from the back of the chopper and in my own head, and turned us towards home.