Disclaimer: I don't own them, and I didn't make up the Vietnam War
either...
Comments: Ok. I have been a bad slacker, I know. I know it gets really bad when people start randomly IMing me, telling me to get my ass in gear. It's just... well you know there are other things that I have to do. Like school work. And... those annoying people called my friends. Anyway. I am sorry that it's taking me so long to get chapters done, forgive me... if just this once. Anyway. I'd also like, for my own clarification and yours, to give a really brief Vietnam War timeline and just point out where all this stuff is happening. Ok?? Ok. You don't have to read it if you don't want to... but it will maybe help define the space in time a little better.
Notes: Timeline!!!
1965: America deploys troops to Vietnam for the first time. (Over 200,000 of them.) Lots of fighting in Ia Drang Valley
1966: Bombing of North Vietnam begins. American/South Vietnamese troops manage to win several strategic battles. Home front veterans are starting War Protests.
1967: Operation Cedar Falls implemented. More protests on the home front. Martin Luther King is speaking out against the war. Ran arrives in Nam. *claps go Ran*
1968: Tet Offensive!! The Tet Offensive was a North Vietnamese attack that was launched during the New Year, a time the Vietnamese traditional held cease fires. The Americans and South Vietnamese were caught off guard and the North Vietnamese managed to sweep in and capture several very important cities, including Saigon. Though the American troops soon pushed the North Vietnamese back and recaptured most of the areas, it was a psychological victory for the North Vietnamese. Many soldiers began to question whether the war would ever end and moral was sent into a general downward spiral. My Lai: massacre of an entire Vietnamese village by Charlie Company. Very tragic, shed a very bad light on the US Army when news of this incident finally came to light in 1969. Paris Peace talks begin. JFK assassinated. MLK assassinated. Nixon becomes president. O_O;;;
1969: Anti War demonstrations mount. Nixon starts bombing Cambodia, but doesn't tell anyone. Ho Chi Minh dies. Ken arrives in Nam in the spring. *claps go Ken!*
1970: Kent State Incident occurs (protestors are shot at Ohio's Kent State when violence breaks out). Nixon begins to pull troops out of Nam in earnest, downsizing the occupying army to 280,000. The war rages on...
1971: Pentagon Papers published. New York Times publishes information about the deception concerning US policy in Nam. Nixon not happy. More war. Downsizing continues.
1972: 70,000 more American troop sent home ------ Ken is among these troops (so when he talks about 'the end of the war' he is talking about 1972, the end of his war). Hanoi and Haiphong bombed. Peace talks revealed, Kissinger is optimistic that peace is on the way. Watergate break in and more Nixon.
1973: War officially ends as the cease-fire is signed in Paris. End of draft announced and the last troops are shipped home. Whee!!
1975: The current year in which Ken is living. Mmmm. seventies hair... disco.
And one last note (man I wrote a lot this time, but I haven't written any for like five chapters so deal). Towards the end of the war, since it was so long, most of the original and career officers had either resigned or been sent home. Due to this fact it was common slander that the commanding officers at the end of the war were less worthy of duty, and less competent. It was common to simply attribute screw ups to incompetent, young officers. So the whole Crawford thing isn't completely pulled out of my ass.
Enjoy!!
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It was late in the afternoon the next day, the sky was trying valiantly to clear; small, weak patches of sunlight fought their way down to the soaked earth, lifting the mood. Soldiers were spending the weather break outside of the bunk houses, organizing games on the muddy training field and horsing around. It felt good to finally be outside, able to feel more like myself than I had for the past month. Memories of the day before kept drifting through my mind, and I found myself spending a lot of time staring blankly into space, smiling softly. The gunners were working maintenance on the choppers, so Ran wasn't around that afternoon. I didn't really mind though. Every time I looked at him I started to grin like an idiot and I knew it was good for us, safe for us, to be apart for a while.
"Yo, Hidaka, wipe that stupid smirk off your face, we're huddling up!" Schuldich yelled at me across the field. I'd allowed him to rope me into a game of full contact football. Football had never really been my sport. I was more of a soccer guy if the truth be told, but soccer required a little too much finesse for most of the characters gathered on the training field.
Streaks of dirt ran down my face and uniform, bits of grass and wet clods of dirt stucking to me annoyingly. I could feel bruises forming on various parts of my body, and my joints were beginning to creak. Football really wasn't my sport. But in a way it felt good. It made me feel human and whole to be involving myself with the others again. I chuckled and shook my head, jogging towards where Schu and the rest of the members of the 326th AHC who had wanted to play were huddling up.
It was the 326th versus the 14th Armed Infantry. The 14th were stationed at Pang Nuan for the duration of the rainy season after being pulled out of active duty along the Mekong River. They were a hardened, big, un-amused bunch and they were royally kicking our asses. Schuldich wasn't very happy about the whole getting creamed part of the game, seeing as it had been his idea to challenge them in the first place.
"Ok, fuckers, this is the last play of the game, so don't fuck it up," he growled at us.
"Schu," Mitchell interjected, "the only way we can win this game now is if we manage to make two touchdowns and a field goal, and that's physically impossible."
Shculdich had glared at Mitchell, his green eyes clouding over in an un- amused fashion. "At this point it's not about winning, Mitch, it's about playing dirty. Take down as many of them as you can, go for the shins and the groins. We'll show these gorillas that even if we can't play to win we can play for keeps. And we might as well get one good play in while we're at it. We're going long and it's going to Kenny here-."
"Why me?!" I hissed incredulously.
Schuldich flipped his long hair and narrowed his eyes at me. "Because you're fast, you squirrelly little bastard. Now just shut up and get ready to run towards the end-zone as soon as we do that thing where we stand in lines, ok?"
"I'm gonna get hurt, aren't I?" I snapped. The smell of sweaty, un-bathed soldiers was starting to make the huddle a little claustrophobic. I had the overwhelming urge to grab Trigger's arm, which was slung around my shoulders, and flip him kung-fu style onto his back. And don't think I couldn't have done it.
Farf, having either ignored the gunner's call to maintenance or not required to attend due to his unactive duty status, which one I'm still not sure about, looked over and grinned at me wryly. His odd, yellow eyes caught what little sunlight there was, making them seem to glow. It was disturbing to say the least. "No worries, Nippy. Take one for the team, right?"
Schu chuckled and reached across the huddle to ruffle my hair. "You're probably used to that, huh, Hidaka? Well... depending on which team he's playing for, anyway."
Farf snickered as well and patted my back. I wasn't exactly sure I liked it.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean," I grumbled. I really didn't like the sly smile on Schuldich's face. My heart beat a little faster, knowing all too well what his comments meant. Even if he was hinting in jest, just to get me riled, or share what he thought was a private joke with Farfarello, it made me very uneasy.
We huddled for a few more moments, going over our game plan. Basically everyone was going to play as dirty as they could in hopes that they would clear up a space for me to go long and catch the ball, thus making it possible to make a touch down. I didn't like it, because I was pretty sure there was no way in hell I was going to be able to catch that football. Oh well. Such is life.
Here's how the play went down. We did the set up and as soon as the ball was tossed backwards through Schu's legs I took off running towards our end zone. Schu was right about one thing, I was a fast mother fucker. Unfortunately I wasn't really paying much attention to what was going on around me. I didn't see that one guy to my right who was doing his best to keep pace. In my mind it sorta plays out like slow motion. I turned, saw Mitchell dropping back for the pass and then watched that ball come spiraling at me out of the sky a million miles a minute. It was gonna be golden. 'Clear blue to 22,' in pilot speak. Well... it could have been golden anyway if I hadn't stopped and let that ball bean me in the head.
My hands came up to catch it, but that never happened. As the ball impacted with my forehead little lights burst behind my eyes and started to dance in the sky. If you want to know the truth I almost whispered "Oooh... pretty." At least I probably would have if the next thing I knew hadn't been the full impact of a very large, sweaty, and dirty body barreling into my back, shoulder first.
The sad truth is, I'm not that big of a guy. I just don't come from a race of very big guys. We may be fast, we may be spry, but big, unless you're a sumo wrestler, just isn't really in the cards for most of us. Thus it's not surprise when Freight Train, as he was called among the 14th AI, ran straight through me I didn't just go down, no I went up first. I must have done a really nice back flip actually before I landed just short of on my head and lay, face up, staring blankly at the very spotty, light filled sky.
"Holy shit, I think I killed him!" It was nice to know that after being bulldozed by a 340lb rifleman who had given up on the meaning of life that he still actually gave a damn.
It was right about then that I realized I couldn't breathe. After a small panic attack I gave up on trying and just lay there. I could hear voice all around me.
"Shit man," this sounded like Schu, "what the hell where you thinking?! He'd already been beaned in the head with the pigskin! You didn't have to run him over, you fat fuck!"
"I was just playing the game!" Freight Train grumbled back.
Farf's head swam into view at this point in time and he winked at me and then started to get really blurry. "Hey, guys. I don't think he's breathing," Farf said languidly. "And if that glassy look is any indication I think he's got a concussion."
Farf... you're my hero.
Then a swatch of orangey-red wafted into my line of sight. "Really?" it was Schuldich. "Well, shit. Let's drag him down to the infirmary before brain damages sets in. Yo, Hidaka!" he screamed. "No sleeping, Kamikaze King, you got that?" I think Schu slapped me at this point, because things got a little less fuzzy and with a gasp I started to breath again. It was remarkably painful.
There's no point in going into detail about my trip to the infirmary. Suffice to say it was rather uncomfortable. When I fully came to my senses again it was about an hour later and I was lying in an infirmary bed, hooked up to an IV, which made me very nervous. Stirring uncomfortably I sat up and thought about yanking the needle out of my arm. The sudden appearance of Manx's disturbingly large hair, attached to the rest of her head of course, stopped me from doing so.
"Hey, sleeping beauty awakes!" she said cheerfully. "You're the easiest patient we've had in here in a long time."
"Can I leave now?" I asked bluntly, giving the IV a significant glance.
She grinned and came to stand by my bed, pushing the curtain aside. "As soon as I check your pulse. And don't worry, it's just a little blood sugar. You had a nasty concussion, hon."
As Manx lodged her fingers under my jaw and tapped her foot impatiently, looking at her watch I began to realize I hurt just about everywhere. As a minute ticked by I found myself growing more and more uncomfortable. Finally she pulled her hand away and gave me a wink. "You're normal. Shouldn't be any brain damage."
"That's good to hear," I murmured sarcastically.
She chuckled as she came around to the other side of the bed and pulled off the surgical tape around the needle in my arm. I watched with morbid fascination as she slowly pulled the IV from my vein, a tiny bubble of blood oozing onto my skin. She pressed a small piece of cotton onto the small hole. "Hold that there to make sure the bleeding stops, and then get your ass out of here," she said lightly, patting my shoulder.
"Yes, ma'am," I grumbled, pressing my thumb to the cotton and swinging my legs awkwardly off the side of the bed. It was a painful process, and my whole body protested the movement. I can't even begin to describe how wonderful it felt to be able to stretch when I finally got to my feet. Heaven.
I thanked Manx and then headed towards the exit. As I did so I passed several beds with soldiers still laying in them. They were amputees, mostly. Men who had lost limbs in the bombing in Sang Cho-na. Dizzying guilt swept through my body, making my stomach twist like I wanted to vomit. A few of them turned hollow eyes on me, and one even smiled. I smiled back and flashed him a thumbs up, but all the while I just kept thinking how they would feel about me if they knew I was the one who had brought that Gook kid here in the first place. The murmurs and grumbles I had heard over the past few weeks had all been blaming Crawford. Blaming him for allowing the kid treatment; blaming him for letting the enemy in through the front gate. The real story wasn't known. A part of me wished everyone knew the truth so that I didn't have to feel even guiltier for having the blame shifted to our commanding officer.
I thought back to the first time I had seen Crawford. I thought about how the men had reacted to him, cheered him on as he made that speech. Those words that meant something to every man in this god forsaken jungle. And now... And now he was becoming the scapegoat.
As I passed the nurse's station I heard my name called. "Hey, Hidaka! There's a note left here for you by your crew chief. He came in to make sure you weren't dead, but left again." It was Birman.
Turning around I smiled and took the folded piece of paper she was offering to me through the station window.
"You should have seen the entourage who brought you in here. It was something to see. A word of advice: don't play football anymore. Especially not against guys who are three times your size, eh?"
I grinned and nodded. "Don't worry, Ms. Birman, I've had quite enough punishment for the time being."
"Just remember that next time."
"Sure."
It was slightly more difficult than it should have been for me to get that piece of paper unfolded. It was a short note from Kudou, scrawled in messy, confused looking handwriting.
"Come to my office after you wake up. There's something I need to discuss with you. Ciao, Mambo King."
I smiled perfunctorily and stuffed the note into my pants pocket. I was glad that the officers' quarters were so close to the infirmary, it meant I could be sitting down again in a few seconds. My head was starting to kill me.
The officer's quarters seemed oddly quiet. My footsteps echoed distantly down the empty hallway, and for some reason a strange apprehension had settled in the pit of my stomach. I paused for a moment before knocking softly on the door to Kudou's office.
There was a brief silence and then, "Come in."
As I opened the door I was surprised that the first person I saw as I entered the room was not Kudou but Lieutenant Commander Crawford. He had been sitting forward, staring blankly at the floor, his glasses resting on Kudou's desk, a cigarette dangling from between his lips. Smoke trailed lazily into the air, dancing with itself in the still room. As I entered he made to sit up, saw it was me, and went back to staring at the floor.
Closing the door behind me I saluted to both of them. Kudou acknowledged my salute with a little one of his own, and Crawford only chuckled. "You don't have to salute me. I'm not your commanding officer anymore," he said coldly. With that he got up, picked up his glasses and something else off of Kudou's desk. It was thin and square, it took me a moment to realize it was a record slip case. "You sure you don't mind if I borrow this?"
Kudou shook his head. "Take it. Everybody needs a little Dean."
Crawford nodded, slipping on his glasses and then brushed past me and out the door without another word. I just stood there, not knowing what to say. What had Crawford meant he was 'not my commanding officer anymore?' I looked to Youji for an answer but he just looked back at me, his green eyes tired and frustrated.
"Take a seat, Hidaka," he said gesturing to the chair that Lieutenant Commander had just vacated.
Still holding the small piece of cotton to my arm I did as he asked and sat down heavily.
"Feeling alright?"
I nodded. "Yeah, it was just a concussion and some bruises," I answered.
He stared at me for a moment and then took a deep breath. "That's good. Well, let me get the point, Hidaka. I asked you to come down here to find out if you were feeling fit to fly. Information has been filtering in, and new orders are imminent at this point. In short we're going to be flying missions again before the rain is over. I just wanted to make sure that you were feeling up to flying again... considering all that's happened lately. I'll be reinstating Schu and Farf to active duty considering this matter, so I wanted to make sure you were going to be able to go up too. I thought it would be good for you to have the season off, but now... well things change."
I blinked rapidly. "Of course I'm ready to go up," I said quickly. "I'm a pilot, sir, and I'm ready to fly when you need me to."
Kudou smiled and nodded. "I thought you'd say that. But I want you to think about it. If you're going to get rattled then I'd rather have you on the ground. So don't just say you're ready. From what I've heard things are going to be really messy out there. We're not going to be flying drop off and pick-up anymore. Take a little while to think things over."
I shook my head. "I don't need special treatment, sir. I'm ready to fly. I'm not afraid to get my hands dirty."
He shrugged, not exactly the response I was looking for. "Alright, soldier, if you say so. I'll let you know when orders come in. Dismissed."
I stood and saluted, getting a little wave in return. As my hand reached out to open the door I paused and turned back around. "Permission to speak freely, sir?"
"Granted," Kudou sighed.
I turned around. "What did Crawford mean?"
Kudou shook his head. "You can talk to Crawford if you want to know that. I'm not at liberty to disclose any information concerning the Lieutenant Commander. But, I'm pretty sure you can figure it out. He's talked to you about it already after all. Give him some time and then go see him after mess. He likes you, Hidaka, so he'll probably talk to you."
I nodded and then turned the door handle, stepping out into empty hallway once again. As I passed by Crawford's office I could hear the sound of Dean Martin music playing softly through his door. It was odd. The same sounds that had seemed so lively the last time I heard them filled me with a strange sadness now. I wished there was something I could do. But there was nothing. Life was shit.
The sky was beginning to cloud back over, the few spots of sun which had illuminated the earth for such a short time dissipated, leaving only a bleak wash over the world. The air was so damp that my uniform seemed to cling to my body. Despite the rather clammy atmosphere I found it necessary to take off my jacket, tying it loosely around my waist. There were no drills, no training until after evening mess. As far as I was concerned the day was mine, not that it was turning out to be all that great of a day. My headache was slowly getting worse, and there was only one thing I could think of that would make me feel better.
Rubbing at my eyes in agitation I turned towards the hangars.
Men were moving around lazily, strutting back and forth through the open hangar doors, carrying pieces of equipment and tools. The air was thick with curses and carrying on, the scent of sweating bodies and grease was overwhelming. No one seemed to notice me as I wandered aimlessly around the edges of the work groups. Gunners from all the AHCs stationed on the base were climbing over the choppers in groups of two or three. I kept my eyes peeled, searching for that tell tale shock of red among the blur of greens and browns.
"Oi, Hidaka! What the hell are you doing down here? Pilot maintenance isn't until Friday!" I heard a voice call out through the crowd. Guess I wasn't as unnoticed as I thought.
Turning, I saw a semi familiar figure flagging me down from the hold of one of the UH-1s. He was a gunner in the 326th. Marshal "Ape Shit" McGregory. I didn't know the guy well, but I knew him as well as I knew anyone else in the 326th.
I waved to him and made my way into the hangar, leaning against the side of the chopper. McGregory grinned at me, a toothpick sticking out between his teeth, and swung out of the hold. "You pilots. I dunno, man, you're too attached to these things. What? Are you afraid we're gonna hurt your babies?" he asked, cocking his hip.
Shaking my head I stood up straight and gave the helicopter an appraising look. "Hey, we've got tofly the damn things. Just making sure you people don't fuck anything up."
"Ha ha, very funny. Well if you want you can always make yourself useful. Grab a monkey wrench or something."
"Hmmm, tempting, really. But I was actually looking for Fujimiya."
Ape Shit's eyes narrowed and he curled up his lip. "Fujimiya? You really must be a masochist or something, Hidaka," he laughed, "no joke. Isn't having to live with the guy bad enough. I'm surprised you even get along with him. I mean... talk about antisocial. Not that I can really blame the guy. He's been through some shit, but haven't we all. Still. I wouldn't have wanted to live through Tet like he did. Lost a lot of pilots, has Ran Fujimiya. Did you know that in his previous company his nickname was Voodoo? Not to his face of course. Yeah I heard the last guy that called him that to his face ended up with some minor structural damage if you catch my drift."
"Ape Shit, would you just shut up and tell me where he is?" I asked, getting annoyed at McGregory's tendency to babble.
He thought for a minute and then shrugged. "He was working on outfitting a Bell at the back of Hangar four last I saw him."
"Thanks. Don't fuck that chopper," I said, waving to him and walking away. He called something after me, but I wasn't paying attention. My mind was suddenly preoccupied with the realization that I knew absolutely nothing about my gunner, my lover. So much for taking some time away from Ran.
Hangar four was relatively deserted. There were only a few choppers parked in the hollow, cement floored building. Four or five gunners were crawling in and out of the holds, adjusting this and that. None of them paid me any attention, their eyes fixed on their tasks. Memories, images, and sounds, swarmed into my mind as I allowed myself to focus on the choppers for a few moments. I could feel the way the squat, bulky machine called to me, my body remembered how it felt to dance through the sky. Suddenly I was strangely eager to be back in the air. I thought vaguely of my first out. The blood, the pain, the fear. All so tangible. Still so tangible. I wondered where all those men were now. All those men that I had transported, who had flown on the wings of my chopper to safety. How many of them, like Omi, had I saved in vain? How many were home now, trying to remember what life was like, how many were back in the trenches, back in the jungle, back in the swamps? I wondered. I wondered if the war would ever end.
He was there, of course, working alone on an Iroquois at the back of the hangar. I didn't call out to him as I approached, only leaned against the jamb of the hold door and waited silently, watching him as he worked over the gun in the hold. Muscles rippled and strained beneath his white undershirt, his jacket discarded carelessly on the hangar floor. A sly smile eased across my face, as I watched him work. My headache didn't seem so bad anymore.
It took him quite a few moments to turn around. And when he finally did he nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw me standing there watching him. Clutching his chest in surprise he skidded with a start and sat back on his heels, gasping slightly. It was priceless. His beautiful, indigo eyes, widened momentarily, lending a soft, childish quality to his grease streaked face. His hand left a dark, smudgy grease print on his shirt. The pale skin of his arms was also blemished with dark splotches and streaks. All of this was charming, but the most charming thing of all the fact that perched on his face was a pair of wire-rimmed glasses which slipped slowly down his grease marked nose.
I loved the way he looked like that. There was something so unnamable about how alluring he was just then.
I smiled, my eyes squinting up, and leaned into the hold a little. "I didn't know you wore glasses."
He scowled at me peevishly and grunted. "I don't usually, but I'm farsighted, so to work up close on this kind of stuff it helps to have them."
"I guess I shouldn't be surprised," I said slowly, softly adding, "there are a lot of things I don't know about you."
He looked at me sharply over the rim of the glasses and then took them off, hooking one of the arms over the collar of his shirt and then started to get to his feet. "You look like crap."
I scoffed and leaned back. "Gee thanks."
"I'm serious. What the hell happened to you? You're eyes look like you've broken blood vessels or something."
He hopped out of the chopper and brushed past me, snagging a cloth rag off the nose of the beast, wiping his hands though it. He stretched his back and grunted.
"I got hit in the head with a long pass and run over by a man called Freight Train. Small concussion, nothing to worry about," I drawled.
Ran paused and fixed me with an indecipherable gaze. His eyes flicked over my body quickly as if trying to make sure I was actually in one piece.
"Hn. No permanent damage?"
"Other than the fact that I see small purple men everywhere I look, no."
"Hidaka."
"No, there's nothing wrong with me. At least nothing other than this headache."
"Go lie down."
"I'm glad that you appreciate the fact that I came to see you," I snapped, massaging the bridge of my nose.
He glared at me and took a step closer. He lowered his voice and spoke to me quickly. "Ken, don't be a prick. Of course I'm glad to see you, made my day. But if you had a concussion you should be in bed."
The sharp scent of machine oil and the tangy odor of Ran's sweat mixed together with the smell of his body. It was intoxicating. I've never been able to feel the same way about grease. I took a step closer and covertly ran my hand along the soft fabric of his shirt, across his hard stomach and around his side. "You smell so good," I whispered, looking up into his eyes.
He balked physically, his eyes widening, his cheeks flushing slightly. Seeing him blush for me like that made me crazy.
Swatting at my hand he hissed at me, "What are you doing?!"
"Wanting you," I hissed back.
"Ken, that's it. No more stupid chances," he snapped, pushing my hand away. He glanced nervously towards the front of the hangar. "We can't be reckless anymore, I'm serious."
I chuckled, reaching up to touch him again. "Ok, whatever you say. One kiss, and then I will leave you alone."
He glared at me. "Ken. I am not going to kiss you here in the hangar. Out of the question."
"One kiss. Then I'll leave and go lie down. One kiss," I murmured.
He glared at me, and I could see the debate in his eyes. Unable to make any verbal reply he eventually gave up and instead grabbed my wrist, hauling me around to the far side of the chopper, facing the hangar wall. Without so much as another word he pushed me roughly against the side of the Iroquois and took my waiting lips, descending on me as if humoring some callous child. But I wasn't going to let him play petulant. This was my kiss. Grabbing his hips I pulled him against me, bringing my thigh up sharply between his legs. I felt him tense and took advantage of the moment to coax his mouth open, exploring him, pulling his tongue into my mouth, sucking it harshly before biting his lip.
I broke the kiss without warning and looked up at him coyly. "Thanks," I whispered and then slid out of his grasp, walking away quickly, leaving him breathless and bothered. I didn't even look back.
Despite my valiant effort to take Ran's advice and lie down for the rest of the afternoon I failed rather miserably due to the fact that Max and Jei were intent on listening to the radio. Actually their real intent was to keep me from getting any rest so that I would eventually agree to go to the rec center with them to play cards. And I did.
I was weird, sitting around that table. I hadn't played cards with the boys since Omi's death, and his absence hung over our gathering like a bad stench. Every time I caught sight of the empty chair beside me my spine would tingle and my skin would crawl. It was eerie, but I kept thinking that next time he would be there, a huge pile of smokes in front of him, that indulgent smirk that meant he knew how badly he was kicking our asses on his face. But of course he never showed up. Swanny, however, did join us, dragging himself in out of the weather to sit heavily in the empty chair.
I remember that he looked like shit and I wondered vaguely if I looked like that to everyone else, too. Hollow eyes peered out from beneath the brim of his uniform hat, glowing with a parasitic madness. His skin was tight and drawn, so pale it was like paper. He smiled at me with cracked, bleeding lips, and gave me a breathy little chuckle. A poll had already been started, by Schuldich I'm sure, to see how long it would be before Swanny went section eight. It wouldn't be long.
"How's it hangin', Swanny?" I asked quietly, shuffling the cards in my hand.
"Oh, you know. Could be better," he answered in a strained, thin voice.
"Want me to deal you in?"
"Well, I didn't come here to jack off, so yeah," he answered staring at me intensely.
The look in his eyes was undecipherable, and is scared the shit out of me. I could see myself reflected in Swanny's eyes. I knew that if it hadn't been for Fujimiya, I could very well have been half way mad as Swanny by then. He'd seen it. He'd seen it all, he'd been there. I couldn't imagine.
As the afternoon wore on we were joined by more members of the 326th AHC. Cue Ball, Chicken Bone, and Mitchell all filtered in, and joined in the heroic attempt to make me lose as badly as possible. Not as if I cared. I still didn't smoke. By the time the horn for evening mess sounded I was cleaned out of all but two sticks. These I tucked into my breast pocket intent on giving them to Ran later. He'd appreciate the gesture at the very least. The cards were collected and the table was slowly evacuated to the sound of manly grunts and cigarette hoarding.
As I got up from the table I felt a claw-like hand grip my arm. I had turned quickly, knowing all too well who it was that was reaching out to me, afraid to look back, but more afraid to pull away. Swanny's haunted eyes bored into me, and his grip tightened, skinny fingers digging into the fleshy part of my arm.
"Can I talk to you?" he asked harshly.
Unable to deny him I nodded hesitantly and let him lead me away from the others as they dispersed towards the mess hall. He pulled me after him, out of the rec hall, underneath an overhanging eave and then finally released his grip on my arm.
"What did you want, Swanny?" I asked cautiously.
He turned on me quickly and smiled weakly. His mouth opened slightly, but then closed again as he took off his hat and ran a shaking hand through his hair. Finally he looked at me again and shook his head. "I don't really know, to tell you the truth, Hidaka. I just thought... I dunno. I can't explain. I feel so scattered, so guilty, you know. And... and I know you've been having a hard time too, so I thought... Shit! This isn't like me!" he cried, suddenly lurching forward and grabbing both of my arms, shaking me slightly.
"Swanny, let me go!" I barked.
"You don't understand! I'm not like this, I'm not like you!" he cried. "I don't lose it, I don't! I have seen guys wasted and torn to pieces and shredded, and it was nothing, nothing! But now I can't shake it. I can't shake this feeling, this horror. Every time I close my eyes I see his face and I can feel him... piece of him on me, everywhere! I can't fucking shake it!" he screamed, his fingers clamping down into my arm farther and farther. Then with a terrified cry he began to cry hysterically, letting go of my arms, sinking down, covering his head with his hands. He rocked back and forth, murmuring to himself.
"Holy shit... Swanny," I breathed, unable to hide my fear, backing away slightly.
He chuckled strangely, turning his head to look up at me. Tears stained his face, making him look all the more deranged as the redness of his eyes contrasted with the sickly paleness of his skin. "Why... why is this happening to me? Why aren't you falling apart? I can't hold myself together, Hidaka," he whispered, glaring at me. "I... can't shake the guilt. Why wasn't it me? Why not me?! I should be dead. I should be..." he trailed off and then buried his head in his arms again, rocking back and forth.
I didn't know what to do. I couldn't just leave him there... could I? Taking a step towards him I started to speak softly. "Hey, Swanny. Let's go to mess, ok? Don't go section eight on me here. C'mon, get up."
At this he had chuckled again and stood up shakily, casting me a dark glance. "You know... you look just like one of them. You're everywhere aren't you... damn Gooks," he hissed.
Standing there alone with Swanny I was suddenly very afraid. I didn't like the look in his eyes, or the words that were coming out of his chapped lips. "Back off, Swanny," I snapped, trying to sound forceful. I was really aware for the first time that Swanny was a lot bigger than I was. He was taller, heavier, and more powerful. He leered at me, his lip twitching, his eyebrows furrowing.
"Why, Hidaka? You think I'd turn against one of my own? But like I said... all you damn Gooks look the same. Why do you get off? Why do you get to shake it, when I can't? He meant more to you, didn't he?! Why the fuck do I have to lose it?!" he screamed, lunging at me, slamming me back against the concrete wall of the rec center.
I felt my breath leave my lungs in a startling whoosh. This really wasn't my day for being banged around. I tried to yell at him, but all that came out was a croaking grunt. His eyes flashed crazy, and I knew he wasn't even thinking about what he was doing.
"God damned Gooks," he screamed, and slammed me against the wall again, this time my head whipped back and whacked against the bleak, unforgiving surface. I'd already suffered one concussion that day, and my vision started to get a little blurry.
"Get off of me!" I cried fiercely, trying my best to fight him off, but it was a losing battle. Steeling myself for another wall slamming I closed my eyes and waited for the worst, but it never came.
"Swanny, what the fuck?!" the angry shout shot through the heavy air and next thing I knew two sets of hands were grabbing Swanny, pulling him off me. I heard the unmistakable sound of skin impacting skin and Swanny hit the ground. I felt strong hands supporting me. Looking over warily I saw Farf grin back at me and wink.
Schuldich was standing over the stricken form of Swanny, his hands balled into tight fists. "You crazy mother-fucking bastard! What the hell is wrong with you?!"
"Schu, don't," I cried, reaching out, using Jei for leverage as I pushed myself up.
Max shot me a quick, angry glance, his green eyes flashing.
"Let's just go to mess," I sighed. "No hard feelings."
Swanny shifted and pushed himself up on his elbows, snuffling pathetically, new tears forming in his eyes. He looked at me and choked. "Ken... I... I don't know what's wrong with me. I'm sorry," he said in a choked voice. Then he slowly got to his feet again and shot Schu a wry smile. "Thanks, Max," he murmured and then backed away slowly, keeping his eyes on me. "I am so fucked." And with that he turned on his heels and sprinted across the base. To where, I could only guess.
Farf patted my back, whacking a bit harder than was really necessary. "You really shouldn't hang out with the crazies, Nippy," he cooed harshly.
"Then he shouldn't be standing there with you, you lazy-eye psycho," Schu quipped, sauntering over to us. He gave me a wry grin, tossing his long hair and then ruffled my head. "Let's go to mess. Forget about Swanny. He's section eight already."
I couldn't think of anything to say, so I kept my mouth shut. A part of me was dying.
We were late to mess. I was still shaking on the inside as we got our food and sat down. Ran gave me a curious look from where he sat farther down the table and I gave him a weak smile. I would tell him about it later. Shrugging he went back to his dinner.
I tried to force myself to eat, but my appetite was completely gone. I kept seeing Swanny's empty eyes, hearing his hysterical voice. Standing suddenly, I pushed my food away from me and backed away from the table.
Schuldich looked up curiously. "What now, Hidaka?"
My mind flailed around, searching for a reason, an excuse, something. Crawford. I was going to go see Crawford, like Youji said. Hearing about someone else's problems would chase mine away. At least temporarily.
"I just remembered... I have to go talk to the Lieutenant Commander. Er... excuse me," I said hastily, turning and fleeing the mess hall. I don't know why I suddenly felt so claustrophobic in there. It was as if the smell of the food was going to make me vomit. I couldn't stand it. I ran out into the evening and across the field towards the officers' quarters.
For a moment I let myself sag against the outer wall, catching my breath. It was then, as I slumped against the cold, heartless concrete of the building that I started to hear it. Or at least it was then that I realized I was hearing anything. At first it was just an indistinguishable keening, an overlying mass of sound. It grew louder as I slowly dragged myself towards the door, and as I pushed it open, stepping into the echoing, empty hallway within I realized what it was.
It was Dean Martin... again. Playing so loudly that it could have probably made my ears bleed. It almost made me giggle, the absurdity of it. I imagined that Youji was cranking it to purposefully annoy Crawford. But I realized I had seen Youji in the mess hall, sitting near Ran in fact, and that Crawford had borrowed the record earlier in the day.
I knew something wasn't right. I could feel it. The air was so still. Nothing moved or stirred, there was no sound save that of Dean. Irrational fear settled in the pit of my stomach as I moved down the hallway to pause at Crawford's door. It was definitely the source of the music. It was so loud now that I could barely hear myself think. I knocked hesitantly.
-I love Corina! Tell the world I do! Tell the world I do! I pray each night she loves me too-
I felt like an idiot for knocking. There was no way in hell that Crawford could hear me over the blaring music. I couldn't even hear it. As my hand settled on the handle, the trepidation in my stomach redoubled and I found the knob slippery beneath my suddenly sweating palms.
-Corina Corina! Corina Corina! Corina Corina! I love you so!
The door swung inward with no resistance and as it did so I was accosted by not only the ever increasing volume of the music, but a sickening smell that I knew only too well. It conjured up images of gore slicked chopper holds, and fleeing men. Blood and gunpowder.
-Oh little darling, where you been so long? There aint been no lovers since you been gone!-
I stepped into the room, how foolish of me. A single lamp illuminated the Lieutenant Commander's desk, spreading a pool of soft, ambient light on the scene there. My mouth fell slightly open, my eyes widening slightly. My breath caught in my throat and I gagged, unable to believe my eyes. Bradley Crawford was slumped in his desk chair, his eyes, open but unseeing, stared blankly into space, his mouth slightly agape. Blood had trickled down his chin, and poured over his uniform, leaving a dark, glistening stain on his chest. Behind him on the wall his brains were spread out in a splatter of impressionistic quality. There was blood on everything. On the wall, pooling on the floor.
-Corina Corina! Corina Corina! Corina Corina! I love you so!-
Still unbelieving, empty and in shock I took a few halting steps forward, my breath coming in sharp, short little pants. Mechanically I made my way to the side of his desk and looked at his lifeless body. The rifle he had shot himself in the mouth with lay on the floor near his chair, sitting in a small pool of blood. I looked down, realizing, detachedly that there was too much blood on the floor to be just from his head wound. It was then that I saw his arm, dangling at his side. His wrists were slashed as well, small dribbles of blood still slowly draining from his veins. Bradley Crawford was never a man to do anything halfway.
-I left Corina way across the sea. I left Corina way across the sea. If you see Corina send her home to me!-
It was only as I simultaneously realized that Crawford could not have killed himself more than three minutes before and saw the words "Land of the Free" scrawled across the papers on his desk in blood that I came to my senses. All the hairs on my body stood on end as the horror of the scene before me came to full strength and I gulped for air, back peddling towards the door as fast as I could.
-Corina Corina! Corina Corina! Corina Corina! I love you so!-
I was ready to lose my mind. There was nothing. Nothing but death and insanity all around me. I was truly in hell. My back met a wall and, no longer able to stand, I sank to the ground. That's when I started screaming. I couldn't stop. I screamed and screamed. But nobody could hear me. The music was too loud.
-Corina Corina! Corina Corina! Corina Corina! I love you so!-
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Afterthoughts: They're droppin' like flies!! Mou. I killed Brad... But these things happen. Surprisingly I like this chapter a lot more than I thought I would. I hope the ending had the effect I wanted it to, and wasn't just random and bizarre. Anyway. Hmmmm.. I was reading over old reviews for this while trying to inspire myself to write. I wonder if the people who reviewed way back when are still reading. This is so long I wouldn't be surprised if they gave up. Heh.
Anyway... speaking of reviews *glare of death... points to button* I will smite you ALL!!!! Please review, ne? I know that it's taking me longer and longer to get chapters out, but knowing someone cares does help. *pats Ruadhagan* See... it helps to bug me. So here's to all the lovelies who badger me online!! *cheers* *huggles the lovelies (aka. Ya-chan, Mako- chan, Lilas the Wild Child, Fei, and Ruadhagan)* And anybody else who feel like bugging me or saying hi, please do so!! (My AIM name is in my bio.) I'm not scary and I don't bite... I am kinda annoying, but other than that... No, seriously I am addicted to AIM... I think it stole my soul or something. Why am I rambling like this?! I am sure that nobody even cares. *sighs* Bleh. Well... back to studying psych. ~_o
Press it press it press it press it!! *points to button*
Comments: Ok. I have been a bad slacker, I know. I know it gets really bad when people start randomly IMing me, telling me to get my ass in gear. It's just... well you know there are other things that I have to do. Like school work. And... those annoying people called my friends. Anyway. I am sorry that it's taking me so long to get chapters done, forgive me... if just this once. Anyway. I'd also like, for my own clarification and yours, to give a really brief Vietnam War timeline and just point out where all this stuff is happening. Ok?? Ok. You don't have to read it if you don't want to... but it will maybe help define the space in time a little better.
Notes: Timeline!!!
1965: America deploys troops to Vietnam for the first time. (Over 200,000 of them.) Lots of fighting in Ia Drang Valley
1966: Bombing of North Vietnam begins. American/South Vietnamese troops manage to win several strategic battles. Home front veterans are starting War Protests.
1967: Operation Cedar Falls implemented. More protests on the home front. Martin Luther King is speaking out against the war. Ran arrives in Nam. *claps go Ran*
1968: Tet Offensive!! The Tet Offensive was a North Vietnamese attack that was launched during the New Year, a time the Vietnamese traditional held cease fires. The Americans and South Vietnamese were caught off guard and the North Vietnamese managed to sweep in and capture several very important cities, including Saigon. Though the American troops soon pushed the North Vietnamese back and recaptured most of the areas, it was a psychological victory for the North Vietnamese. Many soldiers began to question whether the war would ever end and moral was sent into a general downward spiral. My Lai: massacre of an entire Vietnamese village by Charlie Company. Very tragic, shed a very bad light on the US Army when news of this incident finally came to light in 1969. Paris Peace talks begin. JFK assassinated. MLK assassinated. Nixon becomes president. O_O;;;
1969: Anti War demonstrations mount. Nixon starts bombing Cambodia, but doesn't tell anyone. Ho Chi Minh dies. Ken arrives in Nam in the spring. *claps go Ken!*
1970: Kent State Incident occurs (protestors are shot at Ohio's Kent State when violence breaks out). Nixon begins to pull troops out of Nam in earnest, downsizing the occupying army to 280,000. The war rages on...
1971: Pentagon Papers published. New York Times publishes information about the deception concerning US policy in Nam. Nixon not happy. More war. Downsizing continues.
1972: 70,000 more American troop sent home ------ Ken is among these troops (so when he talks about 'the end of the war' he is talking about 1972, the end of his war). Hanoi and Haiphong bombed. Peace talks revealed, Kissinger is optimistic that peace is on the way. Watergate break in and more Nixon.
1973: War officially ends as the cease-fire is signed in Paris. End of draft announced and the last troops are shipped home. Whee!!
1975: The current year in which Ken is living. Mmmm. seventies hair... disco.
And one last note (man I wrote a lot this time, but I haven't written any for like five chapters so deal). Towards the end of the war, since it was so long, most of the original and career officers had either resigned or been sent home. Due to this fact it was common slander that the commanding officers at the end of the war were less worthy of duty, and less competent. It was common to simply attribute screw ups to incompetent, young officers. So the whole Crawford thing isn't completely pulled out of my ass.
Enjoy!!
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It was late in the afternoon the next day, the sky was trying valiantly to clear; small, weak patches of sunlight fought their way down to the soaked earth, lifting the mood. Soldiers were spending the weather break outside of the bunk houses, organizing games on the muddy training field and horsing around. It felt good to finally be outside, able to feel more like myself than I had for the past month. Memories of the day before kept drifting through my mind, and I found myself spending a lot of time staring blankly into space, smiling softly. The gunners were working maintenance on the choppers, so Ran wasn't around that afternoon. I didn't really mind though. Every time I looked at him I started to grin like an idiot and I knew it was good for us, safe for us, to be apart for a while.
"Yo, Hidaka, wipe that stupid smirk off your face, we're huddling up!" Schuldich yelled at me across the field. I'd allowed him to rope me into a game of full contact football. Football had never really been my sport. I was more of a soccer guy if the truth be told, but soccer required a little too much finesse for most of the characters gathered on the training field.
Streaks of dirt ran down my face and uniform, bits of grass and wet clods of dirt stucking to me annoyingly. I could feel bruises forming on various parts of my body, and my joints were beginning to creak. Football really wasn't my sport. But in a way it felt good. It made me feel human and whole to be involving myself with the others again. I chuckled and shook my head, jogging towards where Schu and the rest of the members of the 326th AHC who had wanted to play were huddling up.
It was the 326th versus the 14th Armed Infantry. The 14th were stationed at Pang Nuan for the duration of the rainy season after being pulled out of active duty along the Mekong River. They were a hardened, big, un-amused bunch and they were royally kicking our asses. Schuldich wasn't very happy about the whole getting creamed part of the game, seeing as it had been his idea to challenge them in the first place.
"Ok, fuckers, this is the last play of the game, so don't fuck it up," he growled at us.
"Schu," Mitchell interjected, "the only way we can win this game now is if we manage to make two touchdowns and a field goal, and that's physically impossible."
Shculdich had glared at Mitchell, his green eyes clouding over in an un- amused fashion. "At this point it's not about winning, Mitch, it's about playing dirty. Take down as many of them as you can, go for the shins and the groins. We'll show these gorillas that even if we can't play to win we can play for keeps. And we might as well get one good play in while we're at it. We're going long and it's going to Kenny here-."
"Why me?!" I hissed incredulously.
Schuldich flipped his long hair and narrowed his eyes at me. "Because you're fast, you squirrelly little bastard. Now just shut up and get ready to run towards the end-zone as soon as we do that thing where we stand in lines, ok?"
"I'm gonna get hurt, aren't I?" I snapped. The smell of sweaty, un-bathed soldiers was starting to make the huddle a little claustrophobic. I had the overwhelming urge to grab Trigger's arm, which was slung around my shoulders, and flip him kung-fu style onto his back. And don't think I couldn't have done it.
Farf, having either ignored the gunner's call to maintenance or not required to attend due to his unactive duty status, which one I'm still not sure about, looked over and grinned at me wryly. His odd, yellow eyes caught what little sunlight there was, making them seem to glow. It was disturbing to say the least. "No worries, Nippy. Take one for the team, right?"
Schu chuckled and reached across the huddle to ruffle my hair. "You're probably used to that, huh, Hidaka? Well... depending on which team he's playing for, anyway."
Farf snickered as well and patted my back. I wasn't exactly sure I liked it.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean," I grumbled. I really didn't like the sly smile on Schuldich's face. My heart beat a little faster, knowing all too well what his comments meant. Even if he was hinting in jest, just to get me riled, or share what he thought was a private joke with Farfarello, it made me very uneasy.
We huddled for a few more moments, going over our game plan. Basically everyone was going to play as dirty as they could in hopes that they would clear up a space for me to go long and catch the ball, thus making it possible to make a touch down. I didn't like it, because I was pretty sure there was no way in hell I was going to be able to catch that football. Oh well. Such is life.
Here's how the play went down. We did the set up and as soon as the ball was tossed backwards through Schu's legs I took off running towards our end zone. Schu was right about one thing, I was a fast mother fucker. Unfortunately I wasn't really paying much attention to what was going on around me. I didn't see that one guy to my right who was doing his best to keep pace. In my mind it sorta plays out like slow motion. I turned, saw Mitchell dropping back for the pass and then watched that ball come spiraling at me out of the sky a million miles a minute. It was gonna be golden. 'Clear blue to 22,' in pilot speak. Well... it could have been golden anyway if I hadn't stopped and let that ball bean me in the head.
My hands came up to catch it, but that never happened. As the ball impacted with my forehead little lights burst behind my eyes and started to dance in the sky. If you want to know the truth I almost whispered "Oooh... pretty." At least I probably would have if the next thing I knew hadn't been the full impact of a very large, sweaty, and dirty body barreling into my back, shoulder first.
The sad truth is, I'm not that big of a guy. I just don't come from a race of very big guys. We may be fast, we may be spry, but big, unless you're a sumo wrestler, just isn't really in the cards for most of us. Thus it's not surprise when Freight Train, as he was called among the 14th AI, ran straight through me I didn't just go down, no I went up first. I must have done a really nice back flip actually before I landed just short of on my head and lay, face up, staring blankly at the very spotty, light filled sky.
"Holy shit, I think I killed him!" It was nice to know that after being bulldozed by a 340lb rifleman who had given up on the meaning of life that he still actually gave a damn.
It was right about then that I realized I couldn't breathe. After a small panic attack I gave up on trying and just lay there. I could hear voice all around me.
"Shit man," this sounded like Schu, "what the hell where you thinking?! He'd already been beaned in the head with the pigskin! You didn't have to run him over, you fat fuck!"
"I was just playing the game!" Freight Train grumbled back.
Farf's head swam into view at this point in time and he winked at me and then started to get really blurry. "Hey, guys. I don't think he's breathing," Farf said languidly. "And if that glassy look is any indication I think he's got a concussion."
Farf... you're my hero.
Then a swatch of orangey-red wafted into my line of sight. "Really?" it was Schuldich. "Well, shit. Let's drag him down to the infirmary before brain damages sets in. Yo, Hidaka!" he screamed. "No sleeping, Kamikaze King, you got that?" I think Schu slapped me at this point, because things got a little less fuzzy and with a gasp I started to breath again. It was remarkably painful.
There's no point in going into detail about my trip to the infirmary. Suffice to say it was rather uncomfortable. When I fully came to my senses again it was about an hour later and I was lying in an infirmary bed, hooked up to an IV, which made me very nervous. Stirring uncomfortably I sat up and thought about yanking the needle out of my arm. The sudden appearance of Manx's disturbingly large hair, attached to the rest of her head of course, stopped me from doing so.
"Hey, sleeping beauty awakes!" she said cheerfully. "You're the easiest patient we've had in here in a long time."
"Can I leave now?" I asked bluntly, giving the IV a significant glance.
She grinned and came to stand by my bed, pushing the curtain aside. "As soon as I check your pulse. And don't worry, it's just a little blood sugar. You had a nasty concussion, hon."
As Manx lodged her fingers under my jaw and tapped her foot impatiently, looking at her watch I began to realize I hurt just about everywhere. As a minute ticked by I found myself growing more and more uncomfortable. Finally she pulled her hand away and gave me a wink. "You're normal. Shouldn't be any brain damage."
"That's good to hear," I murmured sarcastically.
She chuckled as she came around to the other side of the bed and pulled off the surgical tape around the needle in my arm. I watched with morbid fascination as she slowly pulled the IV from my vein, a tiny bubble of blood oozing onto my skin. She pressed a small piece of cotton onto the small hole. "Hold that there to make sure the bleeding stops, and then get your ass out of here," she said lightly, patting my shoulder.
"Yes, ma'am," I grumbled, pressing my thumb to the cotton and swinging my legs awkwardly off the side of the bed. It was a painful process, and my whole body protested the movement. I can't even begin to describe how wonderful it felt to be able to stretch when I finally got to my feet. Heaven.
I thanked Manx and then headed towards the exit. As I did so I passed several beds with soldiers still laying in them. They were amputees, mostly. Men who had lost limbs in the bombing in Sang Cho-na. Dizzying guilt swept through my body, making my stomach twist like I wanted to vomit. A few of them turned hollow eyes on me, and one even smiled. I smiled back and flashed him a thumbs up, but all the while I just kept thinking how they would feel about me if they knew I was the one who had brought that Gook kid here in the first place. The murmurs and grumbles I had heard over the past few weeks had all been blaming Crawford. Blaming him for allowing the kid treatment; blaming him for letting the enemy in through the front gate. The real story wasn't known. A part of me wished everyone knew the truth so that I didn't have to feel even guiltier for having the blame shifted to our commanding officer.
I thought back to the first time I had seen Crawford. I thought about how the men had reacted to him, cheered him on as he made that speech. Those words that meant something to every man in this god forsaken jungle. And now... And now he was becoming the scapegoat.
As I passed the nurse's station I heard my name called. "Hey, Hidaka! There's a note left here for you by your crew chief. He came in to make sure you weren't dead, but left again." It was Birman.
Turning around I smiled and took the folded piece of paper she was offering to me through the station window.
"You should have seen the entourage who brought you in here. It was something to see. A word of advice: don't play football anymore. Especially not against guys who are three times your size, eh?"
I grinned and nodded. "Don't worry, Ms. Birman, I've had quite enough punishment for the time being."
"Just remember that next time."
"Sure."
It was slightly more difficult than it should have been for me to get that piece of paper unfolded. It was a short note from Kudou, scrawled in messy, confused looking handwriting.
"Come to my office after you wake up. There's something I need to discuss with you. Ciao, Mambo King."
I smiled perfunctorily and stuffed the note into my pants pocket. I was glad that the officers' quarters were so close to the infirmary, it meant I could be sitting down again in a few seconds. My head was starting to kill me.
The officer's quarters seemed oddly quiet. My footsteps echoed distantly down the empty hallway, and for some reason a strange apprehension had settled in the pit of my stomach. I paused for a moment before knocking softly on the door to Kudou's office.
There was a brief silence and then, "Come in."
As I opened the door I was surprised that the first person I saw as I entered the room was not Kudou but Lieutenant Commander Crawford. He had been sitting forward, staring blankly at the floor, his glasses resting on Kudou's desk, a cigarette dangling from between his lips. Smoke trailed lazily into the air, dancing with itself in the still room. As I entered he made to sit up, saw it was me, and went back to staring at the floor.
Closing the door behind me I saluted to both of them. Kudou acknowledged my salute with a little one of his own, and Crawford only chuckled. "You don't have to salute me. I'm not your commanding officer anymore," he said coldly. With that he got up, picked up his glasses and something else off of Kudou's desk. It was thin and square, it took me a moment to realize it was a record slip case. "You sure you don't mind if I borrow this?"
Kudou shook his head. "Take it. Everybody needs a little Dean."
Crawford nodded, slipping on his glasses and then brushed past me and out the door without another word. I just stood there, not knowing what to say. What had Crawford meant he was 'not my commanding officer anymore?' I looked to Youji for an answer but he just looked back at me, his green eyes tired and frustrated.
"Take a seat, Hidaka," he said gesturing to the chair that Lieutenant Commander had just vacated.
Still holding the small piece of cotton to my arm I did as he asked and sat down heavily.
"Feeling alright?"
I nodded. "Yeah, it was just a concussion and some bruises," I answered.
He stared at me for a moment and then took a deep breath. "That's good. Well, let me get the point, Hidaka. I asked you to come down here to find out if you were feeling fit to fly. Information has been filtering in, and new orders are imminent at this point. In short we're going to be flying missions again before the rain is over. I just wanted to make sure that you were feeling up to flying again... considering all that's happened lately. I'll be reinstating Schu and Farf to active duty considering this matter, so I wanted to make sure you were going to be able to go up too. I thought it would be good for you to have the season off, but now... well things change."
I blinked rapidly. "Of course I'm ready to go up," I said quickly. "I'm a pilot, sir, and I'm ready to fly when you need me to."
Kudou smiled and nodded. "I thought you'd say that. But I want you to think about it. If you're going to get rattled then I'd rather have you on the ground. So don't just say you're ready. From what I've heard things are going to be really messy out there. We're not going to be flying drop off and pick-up anymore. Take a little while to think things over."
I shook my head. "I don't need special treatment, sir. I'm ready to fly. I'm not afraid to get my hands dirty."
He shrugged, not exactly the response I was looking for. "Alright, soldier, if you say so. I'll let you know when orders come in. Dismissed."
I stood and saluted, getting a little wave in return. As my hand reached out to open the door I paused and turned back around. "Permission to speak freely, sir?"
"Granted," Kudou sighed.
I turned around. "What did Crawford mean?"
Kudou shook his head. "You can talk to Crawford if you want to know that. I'm not at liberty to disclose any information concerning the Lieutenant Commander. But, I'm pretty sure you can figure it out. He's talked to you about it already after all. Give him some time and then go see him after mess. He likes you, Hidaka, so he'll probably talk to you."
I nodded and then turned the door handle, stepping out into empty hallway once again. As I passed by Crawford's office I could hear the sound of Dean Martin music playing softly through his door. It was odd. The same sounds that had seemed so lively the last time I heard them filled me with a strange sadness now. I wished there was something I could do. But there was nothing. Life was shit.
The sky was beginning to cloud back over, the few spots of sun which had illuminated the earth for such a short time dissipated, leaving only a bleak wash over the world. The air was so damp that my uniform seemed to cling to my body. Despite the rather clammy atmosphere I found it necessary to take off my jacket, tying it loosely around my waist. There were no drills, no training until after evening mess. As far as I was concerned the day was mine, not that it was turning out to be all that great of a day. My headache was slowly getting worse, and there was only one thing I could think of that would make me feel better.
Rubbing at my eyes in agitation I turned towards the hangars.
Men were moving around lazily, strutting back and forth through the open hangar doors, carrying pieces of equipment and tools. The air was thick with curses and carrying on, the scent of sweating bodies and grease was overwhelming. No one seemed to notice me as I wandered aimlessly around the edges of the work groups. Gunners from all the AHCs stationed on the base were climbing over the choppers in groups of two or three. I kept my eyes peeled, searching for that tell tale shock of red among the blur of greens and browns.
"Oi, Hidaka! What the hell are you doing down here? Pilot maintenance isn't until Friday!" I heard a voice call out through the crowd. Guess I wasn't as unnoticed as I thought.
Turning, I saw a semi familiar figure flagging me down from the hold of one of the UH-1s. He was a gunner in the 326th. Marshal "Ape Shit" McGregory. I didn't know the guy well, but I knew him as well as I knew anyone else in the 326th.
I waved to him and made my way into the hangar, leaning against the side of the chopper. McGregory grinned at me, a toothpick sticking out between his teeth, and swung out of the hold. "You pilots. I dunno, man, you're too attached to these things. What? Are you afraid we're gonna hurt your babies?" he asked, cocking his hip.
Shaking my head I stood up straight and gave the helicopter an appraising look. "Hey, we've got tofly the damn things. Just making sure you people don't fuck anything up."
"Ha ha, very funny. Well if you want you can always make yourself useful. Grab a monkey wrench or something."
"Hmmm, tempting, really. But I was actually looking for Fujimiya."
Ape Shit's eyes narrowed and he curled up his lip. "Fujimiya? You really must be a masochist or something, Hidaka," he laughed, "no joke. Isn't having to live with the guy bad enough. I'm surprised you even get along with him. I mean... talk about antisocial. Not that I can really blame the guy. He's been through some shit, but haven't we all. Still. I wouldn't have wanted to live through Tet like he did. Lost a lot of pilots, has Ran Fujimiya. Did you know that in his previous company his nickname was Voodoo? Not to his face of course. Yeah I heard the last guy that called him that to his face ended up with some minor structural damage if you catch my drift."
"Ape Shit, would you just shut up and tell me where he is?" I asked, getting annoyed at McGregory's tendency to babble.
He thought for a minute and then shrugged. "He was working on outfitting a Bell at the back of Hangar four last I saw him."
"Thanks. Don't fuck that chopper," I said, waving to him and walking away. He called something after me, but I wasn't paying attention. My mind was suddenly preoccupied with the realization that I knew absolutely nothing about my gunner, my lover. So much for taking some time away from Ran.
Hangar four was relatively deserted. There were only a few choppers parked in the hollow, cement floored building. Four or five gunners were crawling in and out of the holds, adjusting this and that. None of them paid me any attention, their eyes fixed on their tasks. Memories, images, and sounds, swarmed into my mind as I allowed myself to focus on the choppers for a few moments. I could feel the way the squat, bulky machine called to me, my body remembered how it felt to dance through the sky. Suddenly I was strangely eager to be back in the air. I thought vaguely of my first out. The blood, the pain, the fear. All so tangible. Still so tangible. I wondered where all those men were now. All those men that I had transported, who had flown on the wings of my chopper to safety. How many of them, like Omi, had I saved in vain? How many were home now, trying to remember what life was like, how many were back in the trenches, back in the jungle, back in the swamps? I wondered. I wondered if the war would ever end.
He was there, of course, working alone on an Iroquois at the back of the hangar. I didn't call out to him as I approached, only leaned against the jamb of the hold door and waited silently, watching him as he worked over the gun in the hold. Muscles rippled and strained beneath his white undershirt, his jacket discarded carelessly on the hangar floor. A sly smile eased across my face, as I watched him work. My headache didn't seem so bad anymore.
It took him quite a few moments to turn around. And when he finally did he nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw me standing there watching him. Clutching his chest in surprise he skidded with a start and sat back on his heels, gasping slightly. It was priceless. His beautiful, indigo eyes, widened momentarily, lending a soft, childish quality to his grease streaked face. His hand left a dark, smudgy grease print on his shirt. The pale skin of his arms was also blemished with dark splotches and streaks. All of this was charming, but the most charming thing of all the fact that perched on his face was a pair of wire-rimmed glasses which slipped slowly down his grease marked nose.
I loved the way he looked like that. There was something so unnamable about how alluring he was just then.
I smiled, my eyes squinting up, and leaned into the hold a little. "I didn't know you wore glasses."
He scowled at me peevishly and grunted. "I don't usually, but I'm farsighted, so to work up close on this kind of stuff it helps to have them."
"I guess I shouldn't be surprised," I said slowly, softly adding, "there are a lot of things I don't know about you."
He looked at me sharply over the rim of the glasses and then took them off, hooking one of the arms over the collar of his shirt and then started to get to his feet. "You look like crap."
I scoffed and leaned back. "Gee thanks."
"I'm serious. What the hell happened to you? You're eyes look like you've broken blood vessels or something."
He hopped out of the chopper and brushed past me, snagging a cloth rag off the nose of the beast, wiping his hands though it. He stretched his back and grunted.
"I got hit in the head with a long pass and run over by a man called Freight Train. Small concussion, nothing to worry about," I drawled.
Ran paused and fixed me with an indecipherable gaze. His eyes flicked over my body quickly as if trying to make sure I was actually in one piece.
"Hn. No permanent damage?"
"Other than the fact that I see small purple men everywhere I look, no."
"Hidaka."
"No, there's nothing wrong with me. At least nothing other than this headache."
"Go lie down."
"I'm glad that you appreciate the fact that I came to see you," I snapped, massaging the bridge of my nose.
He glared at me and took a step closer. He lowered his voice and spoke to me quickly. "Ken, don't be a prick. Of course I'm glad to see you, made my day. But if you had a concussion you should be in bed."
The sharp scent of machine oil and the tangy odor of Ran's sweat mixed together with the smell of his body. It was intoxicating. I've never been able to feel the same way about grease. I took a step closer and covertly ran my hand along the soft fabric of his shirt, across his hard stomach and around his side. "You smell so good," I whispered, looking up into his eyes.
He balked physically, his eyes widening, his cheeks flushing slightly. Seeing him blush for me like that made me crazy.
Swatting at my hand he hissed at me, "What are you doing?!"
"Wanting you," I hissed back.
"Ken, that's it. No more stupid chances," he snapped, pushing my hand away. He glanced nervously towards the front of the hangar. "We can't be reckless anymore, I'm serious."
I chuckled, reaching up to touch him again. "Ok, whatever you say. One kiss, and then I will leave you alone."
He glared at me. "Ken. I am not going to kiss you here in the hangar. Out of the question."
"One kiss. Then I'll leave and go lie down. One kiss," I murmured.
He glared at me, and I could see the debate in his eyes. Unable to make any verbal reply he eventually gave up and instead grabbed my wrist, hauling me around to the far side of the chopper, facing the hangar wall. Without so much as another word he pushed me roughly against the side of the Iroquois and took my waiting lips, descending on me as if humoring some callous child. But I wasn't going to let him play petulant. This was my kiss. Grabbing his hips I pulled him against me, bringing my thigh up sharply between his legs. I felt him tense and took advantage of the moment to coax his mouth open, exploring him, pulling his tongue into my mouth, sucking it harshly before biting his lip.
I broke the kiss without warning and looked up at him coyly. "Thanks," I whispered and then slid out of his grasp, walking away quickly, leaving him breathless and bothered. I didn't even look back.
Despite my valiant effort to take Ran's advice and lie down for the rest of the afternoon I failed rather miserably due to the fact that Max and Jei were intent on listening to the radio. Actually their real intent was to keep me from getting any rest so that I would eventually agree to go to the rec center with them to play cards. And I did.
I was weird, sitting around that table. I hadn't played cards with the boys since Omi's death, and his absence hung over our gathering like a bad stench. Every time I caught sight of the empty chair beside me my spine would tingle and my skin would crawl. It was eerie, but I kept thinking that next time he would be there, a huge pile of smokes in front of him, that indulgent smirk that meant he knew how badly he was kicking our asses on his face. But of course he never showed up. Swanny, however, did join us, dragging himself in out of the weather to sit heavily in the empty chair.
I remember that he looked like shit and I wondered vaguely if I looked like that to everyone else, too. Hollow eyes peered out from beneath the brim of his uniform hat, glowing with a parasitic madness. His skin was tight and drawn, so pale it was like paper. He smiled at me with cracked, bleeding lips, and gave me a breathy little chuckle. A poll had already been started, by Schuldich I'm sure, to see how long it would be before Swanny went section eight. It wouldn't be long.
"How's it hangin', Swanny?" I asked quietly, shuffling the cards in my hand.
"Oh, you know. Could be better," he answered in a strained, thin voice.
"Want me to deal you in?"
"Well, I didn't come here to jack off, so yeah," he answered staring at me intensely.
The look in his eyes was undecipherable, and is scared the shit out of me. I could see myself reflected in Swanny's eyes. I knew that if it hadn't been for Fujimiya, I could very well have been half way mad as Swanny by then. He'd seen it. He'd seen it all, he'd been there. I couldn't imagine.
As the afternoon wore on we were joined by more members of the 326th AHC. Cue Ball, Chicken Bone, and Mitchell all filtered in, and joined in the heroic attempt to make me lose as badly as possible. Not as if I cared. I still didn't smoke. By the time the horn for evening mess sounded I was cleaned out of all but two sticks. These I tucked into my breast pocket intent on giving them to Ran later. He'd appreciate the gesture at the very least. The cards were collected and the table was slowly evacuated to the sound of manly grunts and cigarette hoarding.
As I got up from the table I felt a claw-like hand grip my arm. I had turned quickly, knowing all too well who it was that was reaching out to me, afraid to look back, but more afraid to pull away. Swanny's haunted eyes bored into me, and his grip tightened, skinny fingers digging into the fleshy part of my arm.
"Can I talk to you?" he asked harshly.
Unable to deny him I nodded hesitantly and let him lead me away from the others as they dispersed towards the mess hall. He pulled me after him, out of the rec hall, underneath an overhanging eave and then finally released his grip on my arm.
"What did you want, Swanny?" I asked cautiously.
He turned on me quickly and smiled weakly. His mouth opened slightly, but then closed again as he took off his hat and ran a shaking hand through his hair. Finally he looked at me again and shook his head. "I don't really know, to tell you the truth, Hidaka. I just thought... I dunno. I can't explain. I feel so scattered, so guilty, you know. And... and I know you've been having a hard time too, so I thought... Shit! This isn't like me!" he cried, suddenly lurching forward and grabbing both of my arms, shaking me slightly.
"Swanny, let me go!" I barked.
"You don't understand! I'm not like this, I'm not like you!" he cried. "I don't lose it, I don't! I have seen guys wasted and torn to pieces and shredded, and it was nothing, nothing! But now I can't shake it. I can't shake this feeling, this horror. Every time I close my eyes I see his face and I can feel him... piece of him on me, everywhere! I can't fucking shake it!" he screamed, his fingers clamping down into my arm farther and farther. Then with a terrified cry he began to cry hysterically, letting go of my arms, sinking down, covering his head with his hands. He rocked back and forth, murmuring to himself.
"Holy shit... Swanny," I breathed, unable to hide my fear, backing away slightly.
He chuckled strangely, turning his head to look up at me. Tears stained his face, making him look all the more deranged as the redness of his eyes contrasted with the sickly paleness of his skin. "Why... why is this happening to me? Why aren't you falling apart? I can't hold myself together, Hidaka," he whispered, glaring at me. "I... can't shake the guilt. Why wasn't it me? Why not me?! I should be dead. I should be..." he trailed off and then buried his head in his arms again, rocking back and forth.
I didn't know what to do. I couldn't just leave him there... could I? Taking a step towards him I started to speak softly. "Hey, Swanny. Let's go to mess, ok? Don't go section eight on me here. C'mon, get up."
At this he had chuckled again and stood up shakily, casting me a dark glance. "You know... you look just like one of them. You're everywhere aren't you... damn Gooks," he hissed.
Standing there alone with Swanny I was suddenly very afraid. I didn't like the look in his eyes, or the words that were coming out of his chapped lips. "Back off, Swanny," I snapped, trying to sound forceful. I was really aware for the first time that Swanny was a lot bigger than I was. He was taller, heavier, and more powerful. He leered at me, his lip twitching, his eyebrows furrowing.
"Why, Hidaka? You think I'd turn against one of my own? But like I said... all you damn Gooks look the same. Why do you get off? Why do you get to shake it, when I can't? He meant more to you, didn't he?! Why the fuck do I have to lose it?!" he screamed, lunging at me, slamming me back against the concrete wall of the rec center.
I felt my breath leave my lungs in a startling whoosh. This really wasn't my day for being banged around. I tried to yell at him, but all that came out was a croaking grunt. His eyes flashed crazy, and I knew he wasn't even thinking about what he was doing.
"God damned Gooks," he screamed, and slammed me against the wall again, this time my head whipped back and whacked against the bleak, unforgiving surface. I'd already suffered one concussion that day, and my vision started to get a little blurry.
"Get off of me!" I cried fiercely, trying my best to fight him off, but it was a losing battle. Steeling myself for another wall slamming I closed my eyes and waited for the worst, but it never came.
"Swanny, what the fuck?!" the angry shout shot through the heavy air and next thing I knew two sets of hands were grabbing Swanny, pulling him off me. I heard the unmistakable sound of skin impacting skin and Swanny hit the ground. I felt strong hands supporting me. Looking over warily I saw Farf grin back at me and wink.
Schuldich was standing over the stricken form of Swanny, his hands balled into tight fists. "You crazy mother-fucking bastard! What the hell is wrong with you?!"
"Schu, don't," I cried, reaching out, using Jei for leverage as I pushed myself up.
Max shot me a quick, angry glance, his green eyes flashing.
"Let's just go to mess," I sighed. "No hard feelings."
Swanny shifted and pushed himself up on his elbows, snuffling pathetically, new tears forming in his eyes. He looked at me and choked. "Ken... I... I don't know what's wrong with me. I'm sorry," he said in a choked voice. Then he slowly got to his feet again and shot Schu a wry smile. "Thanks, Max," he murmured and then backed away slowly, keeping his eyes on me. "I am so fucked." And with that he turned on his heels and sprinted across the base. To where, I could only guess.
Farf patted my back, whacking a bit harder than was really necessary. "You really shouldn't hang out with the crazies, Nippy," he cooed harshly.
"Then he shouldn't be standing there with you, you lazy-eye psycho," Schu quipped, sauntering over to us. He gave me a wry grin, tossing his long hair and then ruffled my head. "Let's go to mess. Forget about Swanny. He's section eight already."
I couldn't think of anything to say, so I kept my mouth shut. A part of me was dying.
We were late to mess. I was still shaking on the inside as we got our food and sat down. Ran gave me a curious look from where he sat farther down the table and I gave him a weak smile. I would tell him about it later. Shrugging he went back to his dinner.
I tried to force myself to eat, but my appetite was completely gone. I kept seeing Swanny's empty eyes, hearing his hysterical voice. Standing suddenly, I pushed my food away from me and backed away from the table.
Schuldich looked up curiously. "What now, Hidaka?"
My mind flailed around, searching for a reason, an excuse, something. Crawford. I was going to go see Crawford, like Youji said. Hearing about someone else's problems would chase mine away. At least temporarily.
"I just remembered... I have to go talk to the Lieutenant Commander. Er... excuse me," I said hastily, turning and fleeing the mess hall. I don't know why I suddenly felt so claustrophobic in there. It was as if the smell of the food was going to make me vomit. I couldn't stand it. I ran out into the evening and across the field towards the officers' quarters.
For a moment I let myself sag against the outer wall, catching my breath. It was then, as I slumped against the cold, heartless concrete of the building that I started to hear it. Or at least it was then that I realized I was hearing anything. At first it was just an indistinguishable keening, an overlying mass of sound. It grew louder as I slowly dragged myself towards the door, and as I pushed it open, stepping into the echoing, empty hallway within I realized what it was.
It was Dean Martin... again. Playing so loudly that it could have probably made my ears bleed. It almost made me giggle, the absurdity of it. I imagined that Youji was cranking it to purposefully annoy Crawford. But I realized I had seen Youji in the mess hall, sitting near Ran in fact, and that Crawford had borrowed the record earlier in the day.
I knew something wasn't right. I could feel it. The air was so still. Nothing moved or stirred, there was no sound save that of Dean. Irrational fear settled in the pit of my stomach as I moved down the hallway to pause at Crawford's door. It was definitely the source of the music. It was so loud now that I could barely hear myself think. I knocked hesitantly.
-I love Corina! Tell the world I do! Tell the world I do! I pray each night she loves me too-
I felt like an idiot for knocking. There was no way in hell that Crawford could hear me over the blaring music. I couldn't even hear it. As my hand settled on the handle, the trepidation in my stomach redoubled and I found the knob slippery beneath my suddenly sweating palms.
-Corina Corina! Corina Corina! Corina Corina! I love you so!
The door swung inward with no resistance and as it did so I was accosted by not only the ever increasing volume of the music, but a sickening smell that I knew only too well. It conjured up images of gore slicked chopper holds, and fleeing men. Blood and gunpowder.
-Oh little darling, where you been so long? There aint been no lovers since you been gone!-
I stepped into the room, how foolish of me. A single lamp illuminated the Lieutenant Commander's desk, spreading a pool of soft, ambient light on the scene there. My mouth fell slightly open, my eyes widening slightly. My breath caught in my throat and I gagged, unable to believe my eyes. Bradley Crawford was slumped in his desk chair, his eyes, open but unseeing, stared blankly into space, his mouth slightly agape. Blood had trickled down his chin, and poured over his uniform, leaving a dark, glistening stain on his chest. Behind him on the wall his brains were spread out in a splatter of impressionistic quality. There was blood on everything. On the wall, pooling on the floor.
-Corina Corina! Corina Corina! Corina Corina! I love you so!-
Still unbelieving, empty and in shock I took a few halting steps forward, my breath coming in sharp, short little pants. Mechanically I made my way to the side of his desk and looked at his lifeless body. The rifle he had shot himself in the mouth with lay on the floor near his chair, sitting in a small pool of blood. I looked down, realizing, detachedly that there was too much blood on the floor to be just from his head wound. It was then that I saw his arm, dangling at his side. His wrists were slashed as well, small dribbles of blood still slowly draining from his veins. Bradley Crawford was never a man to do anything halfway.
-I left Corina way across the sea. I left Corina way across the sea. If you see Corina send her home to me!-
It was only as I simultaneously realized that Crawford could not have killed himself more than three minutes before and saw the words "Land of the Free" scrawled across the papers on his desk in blood that I came to my senses. All the hairs on my body stood on end as the horror of the scene before me came to full strength and I gulped for air, back peddling towards the door as fast as I could.
-Corina Corina! Corina Corina! Corina Corina! I love you so!-
I was ready to lose my mind. There was nothing. Nothing but death and insanity all around me. I was truly in hell. My back met a wall and, no longer able to stand, I sank to the ground. That's when I started screaming. I couldn't stop. I screamed and screamed. But nobody could hear me. The music was too loud.
-Corina Corina! Corina Corina! Corina Corina! I love you so!-
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Afterthoughts: They're droppin' like flies!! Mou. I killed Brad... But these things happen. Surprisingly I like this chapter a lot more than I thought I would. I hope the ending had the effect I wanted it to, and wasn't just random and bizarre. Anyway. Hmmmm.. I was reading over old reviews for this while trying to inspire myself to write. I wonder if the people who reviewed way back when are still reading. This is so long I wouldn't be surprised if they gave up. Heh.
Anyway... speaking of reviews *glare of death... points to button* I will smite you ALL!!!! Please review, ne? I know that it's taking me longer and longer to get chapters out, but knowing someone cares does help. *pats Ruadhagan* See... it helps to bug me. So here's to all the lovelies who badger me online!! *cheers* *huggles the lovelies (aka. Ya-chan, Mako- chan, Lilas the Wild Child, Fei, and Ruadhagan)* And anybody else who feel like bugging me or saying hi, please do so!! (My AIM name is in my bio.) I'm not scary and I don't bite... I am kinda annoying, but other than that... No, seriously I am addicted to AIM... I think it stole my soul or something. Why am I rambling like this?! I am sure that nobody even cares. *sighs* Bleh. Well... back to studying psych. ~_o
Press it press it press it press it!! *points to button*