Matterhorn_ A Novel of the Vietnam War Part 25

Mellas cleared his throat. 'Well, I guess I ought to make a flowery farewell speech, but I'll be humping along with Ba.s.s in the rear of this sorry bunch of a.s.sholes every third day, so I guess maybe I won't.' Mellas was surprised at his lack of articulation. 'I, uh, I'll miss you guys.' He couldn't look at them. 'This is Lieutenant Fraca.s.so. He'll be taking over.'

Mellas pointed to each of the squad leaders and made introductions.

'Sorry to see you here, sir,' Connolly said. 'I'm already in the double digits before I get my a.s.s out of here. I'm so short I need to stand on a helmet to take a p.i.s.s.'

Fraca.s.so seemed momentarily taken aback, but he put his hand out to shake Connolly's. 'You're sorry. Jesus. I've got over a year.' sorry. Jesus. I've got over a year.'

Connolly, followed by Jancowitz and Jacobs, shook hands. Fraca.s.so had pa.s.sed the test. It felt good to Mellas. He'd expected to be jealous. The platoon would be OK. He hadn't realized how he'd come to like these guys.

'One last thing before I go and Fraca.s.so's stuck with you for good. Every man gets a f.u.c.king shower. There's a water point down by the river. You squad leaders make sure everyone gets there before you're all too f.u.c.ked up and drown yourselves.'

Two hours later Mellas was sitting in the mud, another warm beer in his hand. His body felt strangely light since he'd showered. It was his first shower since coming to Vietnam. The slight drizzle that was falling felt cool and refres.h.i.+ng on his face. He seemed to feel each individual drop of water.

It was dark, but all around him he saw vague shadows getting up from small circles of friends to walk away and take a p.i.s.s. Then a figure would return-stumbling across one circle or another, finding its own-and sink down again into the small ma.s.s of dark shadows. Mellas thought it must have been like this with Genghis Khan and Alexander.

Mellas could have joined the other officers and staff members in the supply tent but felt a desire to linger with the platoon. He felt a new camaraderie with these kids. He knew it was sentimental, even mawkish, and he tried not to succ.u.mb to the loss he felt at moving a step up in the hierarchy.

His head ached badly, and he continually had to walk off into the bush to c.r.a.p. Still, he was exceedingly happy. It was safe here. He hoped he wasn't coming down with dysentery. His new jungle utilities were already damp and muddy in the seat and knees and also slightly fouled from one of his trips into the bushes. He didn't care. If they launched the Bald Eagle the next day he could be dead. He kept pouring down beer.

With everyone getting s.h.i.+t-faced, China figured it was a good time to deliver the goods to Henry to be s.h.i.+pped back to Oakland or Los Angeles. The heavy seabag on his shoulder was awkward and its contents jabbed against his back and side. He was sweating heavily within two minutes of leaving the little airfield where Bravo Company was bivouacked. When he pushed in past the heavy canvas flaps that formed the door to Henry's four-man tent, he smelled mothb.a.l.l.s still lingering in the material. He let the seabag down a little more quickly than he would have liked, and there was a metallic clunk as it hit the plywood floor. Henry was lying on his rack looking at a f.u.c.k book. He saw China and, after hesitating for just a moment, broke into a grin and got up and went through the hand dance. Two of Henry's friends were also there, and they did the same. It was good to be back with the brothers.

Henry found a warm beer and punched two holes in it with an opener. He raised it in a mock toast and upended it, chugging the contents in about five seconds. Then he sat down on his rack, reached under the rubber lady, and pulled out a small pouch of marijuana with some cigarettes already rolled. He lit one, took a long toke, and handed it to China.

'I don't do that s.h.i.+t,' China said. He wasn't altogether sure it had been a friendly gesture. He'd talked with Henry before about black people enslaving themselves to drugs. Henry knew knew he didn't do that s.h.i.+t. he didn't do that s.h.i.+t.

'Ah, s.h.i.+t, man. When you gonna get with the program, huh? This s.h.i.+t be just good fun. It don't hurt n.o.body.'

'Yeah, OK. You go ahead then.'

Henry pa.s.sed the joint to one of his hooch mates and pulled up another can of beer, opened it, and handed it to China. China put his hands on his hips, looking down. Then he looked up at Henry. 'You know I don't do that s.h.i.+t either.'

Henry raised his eyebrows and looked over at the others. He held the can out from him, pulling his head back, and pretended to study it carefully. 'What I got here, China? Devil in a can?'

China hesitated a moment. He really wanted that beer, but he knew that the Muslim brothers didn't drink. Then again, they weren't getting their a.s.ses shot off in a hot f.u.c.king jungle. He also knew that he'd have to stand up to his stated ideals. 'Hey, Henry, you got a soda or somethin'?' he asked, trying to be casual.

Henry chugged the second can of beer, then walked over to the end of his bunk and pulled out a whole case of Coca-Cola. He levered open a can and handed it to China, grinning. 'I got ever everthing, brother.'

China took it and sat down on the rack facing Henry, the heavy seabag on the floor between his feet. He drank the warm c.o.ke. It tasted like summer back home. The joint got smoked down to where it was too hot to handle and one of Henry's friends put it in a silver roach clip. Henry had the last full pull before there was nothing left.

There was small talk, catching up, what brother made it home, what brother didn't. Then Henry fixed on China's eyes, a signal. 'Parker really try and frag that racist b.a.s.t.a.r.d?'

China hesitated. 'I think so.'

Henry snorted. 'Too bad he f.u.c.ked up.'

There were nods and murmurs of agreement.

China wasn't seeing the scene in the tent; he was seeing Parker being carried out of the perimeter in the dark, face bathed in sweat, fear in his eyes. He had tapped knuckles and given Parker a rea.s.suring handgrip. That was the last he would ever see of Parker. He came back to the present. 'I think the gunny must have spotted somethin'. He says it's all bulls.h.i.+t.'

'Bulls.h.i.+t to that.' to that.'

'Yeah.' China didn't know what to do with his empty can. 'Yeah, bulls.h.i.+t to that.' He reached down to the seabag and unclipped the shoulder strap that also secured it's opening. 'But I got somethin' here ain't no bulls.h.i.+t.' He pulled out the barrel of an M-60 machine gun. Then he pulled out the back end, a.s.sembled it quickly, and handed it to the brother next to him. Then he pulled out an AK-47 and did the same thing. Then he pulled out a .45 pistol and handed it to Henry. Then he pulled out a second AK. He smiled. 'For the brothers back home.'

Henry pulled back the receiver on the .45 and looked through the barrel. His two friends were similarly fiddling with the AK-47s, which were rare in rear areas.

Henry smiled, almost sadly. 'Where you get this s.h.i.+t, China?' he asked.

'We hit a big ammo dump. Me and some of the brothers been humpin' them in pieces ever since. I got the M-60 parts just sayin' mine worn out, little bit at a time, you know, and the .45, that's a combat loss. It was mine. I got me a new one.'

Henry gave a sort of hummphh.

China looked at him. 'Wha'chew mean, hummphh hummphh?'

Henry threw the .45 onto the end of his rack. 'You think the brothers back home can't get they own firearms? s.h.i.+t, man. All they need is money and they get all the f.u.c.kin' firepower they want. Don'chew remember you lived in f.u.c.kin' Ah-mer-i-kuh, Ah-mer-i-kuh, China? We got more guns in Ah-mer-i-kuh than you mama got boyfriends she don't know they names.' China? We got more guns in Ah-mer-i-kuh than you mama got boyfriends she don't know they names.'

China struggled to master his temper. The reference to his mother was a typical dozens insult. He wasn't about to let Henry know how close it had come to the truth. 'Ever bit help, Henry.'

'Sheeit.' Henry stood up and walked over to a heavy, ornately carved Maka.s.sar ebony dresser he'd purchased in an illicit run to Cam Lo, a matching piece for an equally heavy and ornate trunk with which he'd replaced his standard-issue footlocker. 'Besides, we don't get back to the world real soon those brothers back home have no f.u.c.king idea what to do with all that firepower. Sheeit, China. They be killin' each other over who get to be professor of Black Studies at You Cee Ell Ay. Sheeit. Killin' each other over who gonna be teacher to rich white girls and little China boys.' He spun a combination padlock that secured a beautiful silver hasp to one of the drawers.

'That killin' be done by FBI undercover agents,' China said.

'Sheeit, China. Get real, huh? That be nothin' but Slausens killin' Avenues.' Henry pulled the drawer completely out, put it on the steel runway matting that served as the tent's floor, and started taking out clothes and other articles. Then he carefully removed a false bottom and motioned China over to look at it. There were dozens of small plastic packages, some filled with marijuana, some with blocks of hash, many with a slightly different, nearly white powder China thought might be heroin. Henry then carefully replaced the false bottom. 'Wha'chew think that is, China?'

China didn't say anything.

Henry put the false bottom back and pointed a long graceful finger at it. 'That be green green power. I can turn that into so much f.u.c.kin' artillery we can start our power. I can turn that into so much f.u.c.kin' artillery we can start our own own f.u.c.kin' war.' He started putting the clothes and other articles back in. 'You go trade them AKs to some rear-area cracker in Da Nang for some a that soda pop you like so much. Sheeit, China.' Henry's friends broke into chuckles. One of them reached into a side pocket in his trousers and pulled up a wad of military payment currency, waved it just slightly while smiling at China, and then stuffed it back into the pocket. f.u.c.kin' war.' He started putting the clothes and other articles back in. 'You go trade them AKs to some rear-area cracker in Da Nang for some a that soda pop you like so much. Sheeit, China.' Henry's friends broke into chuckles. One of them reached into a side pocket in his trousers and pulled up a wad of military payment currency, waved it just slightly while smiling at China, and then stuffed it back into the pocket.

China felt betrayed and foolish. He saw the amused eyes of Henry's friends looking at him. Henry had his head c.o.c.ked slightly sideways and upward, looking at him. China held his gaze. 'That s.h.i.+t be bad for the brothers, Henry. Malcolm X say to lay off that s.h.i.+t. The Panthers say to lay off that s.h.i.+t.'

'Who says I be sellin' this s.h.i.+t to the brothers?'

'You don't tell me you just sellin' it to chucks.'

'Naw. Maybe I ain't. So what?'

'That s.h.i.+t be bad.'

'So we f.u.c.k up some white boys with it. People buy this s.h.i.+t be nothin' but dumb f.u.c.kin' animals anyway.'

'That's what the mob say about sellin' s.h.i.+t to the black man.'

'So now we gettin' even.'

China set his lips tight. 'You givin' all the money to the brothers back home?'

'Wha'chew think?' Henry's tone was edgy.

China didn't answer. If Henry was, he'd say yes, and if he wasn't, he'd still say yes. China knew when to drop something that needed dropping.

He looked down at the weapons, wondering what to do with them. Henry stepped in and rescued him. 'Hey, man. It cool. It all cool. You just leave that s.h.i.+t with us and next time one'a the brothers get back to Da Nang we trade it for some good stuff with the Navy and Air Force boys and keep what we get for you next time you out of the bush. You done good, brother. You tryin'.'

Henry's patronizing tone increased the humiliation. China put on a cool exterior. 'Yeah. OK. I got to get back before I get missed too much.' He turned to Henry's friends and went through the hand dance. 'You brothers stay cool, OK?'

'Yeah. We be cool. You too, man.'

China slipped out of the tent into the warm dark. He knew that in many ways he had experienced a serious defeat, and not just his own.

'You a lifer, Lieutenant Fraca.s.so?' Jancowitz asked blearily. It was now well past midnight and the drinking had been going on for hours.

Fraca.s.so seemed uncomfortable. Getting drunk with the men the first night wasn't how he had expected to take over command as a new lieutenant. 'What do you think, Corporal Jancowitz?' he replied.

's.h.i.+t, Lieutenant. I don't know. Call me Janc.' Jancowitz paused a little and Mellas could almost see the thoughts muddling around in his head the way he was muddling the beer around in the can.

'I really like the Marine Corps,' Fraca.s.so answered carefully. 'Right now I think I'll be staying in.'

'G.o.dd.a.m.n, sir,' Ba.s.s hooted. 'It's about f.u.c.king time we got a lieutenant with some sense.' Ba.s.s hiccupped at just the right moment to make them all laugh.

'Some lifers are OK,' Jancowitz said with finality, 'and some ain't.'

'There it is,' said Fredrickson. 'I'll drink to that.'

'f.u.c.kin' A right you will, you squid a.s.shole,' Jancowitz returned.

'I said I would and I will, you jarhead a.s.shole.'

'And I said that's f.u.c.kin' A right. Aw, you're a good f.u.c.king squid.' Jancowitz turned, smiled at everyone, and fell over backward, out cold.

'You see, sir?' Ba.s.s said. 'No f.u.c.king staying power like us lifers.'

'I guess not, Sergeant Ba.s.s,' Fraca.s.so said. He smiled awkwardly.

They sat in beery silence for a moment. Then the silence was broken by an animal-like scream.

'f.u.c.kin' white-a.s.s narco b.a.s.t.a.r.d. I'll kill him. I'll kill him!'

One of the groups in front of the large tent erupted in violent movement. Fraca.s.so was instantly running to the fight. Mellas was so sick and weary he barely could get to his feet, but he lurched after Fraca.s.so.

When Mellas got there a new guy was lying flat on his back, his face bleeding badly. Mellas saw the broken stubs of his two front teeth. Standing over him and breathing very hard was China. He had an E-tool in his hand.

'Don't you get enough f.u.c.king fighting, China?' Jacobs screamed. He came hurtling across the small circle at China and they both went down to the ground.

'He got a knife, brother. He got a f.u.c.king knife.'

Mellas broke through the crowd and jumped on Jacobs as hard as he could. He saw Cortell, his high forehead glistening, come in for China and tackle him. Without any sign, both Marines stopped struggling.

'Anybody bleeding?' Mellas was breathing hard.

'Aw, s.h.i.+t, sir,' Jacobs said, 'I ain't got a f.u.c.king knife.' He opened his hand, pinned to his side by Mellas. It showed a muddy harmonica. Several people laughed.

'First time I ever heard of a.s.sault with a deadly mouth harp,' Mellas said. 'You two OK now?'

'Yeah,' China muttered.

'He didn't have to hit him with the f.u.c.king E-tool,' Jacobs said.

'f.u.c.kin' CID,' said China. He meant the criminal investigation division. 'f.u.c.kin' c.u.n.t don't deserve to be alive.'

Mellas stood and helped Jacobs to his feet.

'How do you know he was from CID?' Mellas asked China, ignoring the moans of the man on the ground. Cortell still had his hands on China's arm.

'He's a narc. You can smell the f.u.c.kers.'

'He ask you for some dope or something?' Mellas asked.

'Yeah. He ask me for dope.'

'Maybe he just wanted some. Did you ever think of that?'

'Why he ask me me, huh? Why he ask me me? A f.u.c.kin' chuck askin' a splib for dope. s.h.i.+t, man. I don't even do that s.h.i.+t.'

Mellas looked at the figure on the ground and bent down toward him. Fredrickson was already pus.h.i.+ng in with his kit to start patching the guy up. If he went to the battalion aid station there'd be s.h.i.+t to pay and the company would lose both China and Jacobs. They were both too good to let go.

'Hey,' Fredrickson said to the man on the ground. 'What's your name, huh? You hear me?'

The man groaned a name.

'You in Bravo Company?' Mellas asked.

The man nodded.

'Were you asking about dope?'

The man shook his head.

'He's f.u.c.kin' lying, Lieutenant,' China cried. The man gave a hoa.r.s.e scream and went for China, but both Fredrickson and Mellas held him down. China had the E-tool positioned for a perfect b.u.t.t stroke, sharp end toward the man. It probably would have killed him.

'You're a f.u.c.king fool,' Mellas said quietly to the man on the ground. He heard Ba.s.s clearing the Marines out, sending them away from the fight. He turned to Jacobs and China. 'I'll see you two tomorrow about this. Now go sleep it off.'

Fraca.s.so was standing there with his mouth wide open.

'Hey, Fraca.s.so, don't worry about it,' Mellas said. 'They're just letting off steam.'

He looked at the man on the ground. He had no idea whether the man was CID or not, but one thing was certain: he couldn't stay in the company. 'Hey, look, whatever your name is, I'm going to transfer you out of the company. We can get it done, don't worry. You just keep quiet and this fight will never get on your record, all right?'

'I don't make deals,' the man said, spitting out blood.

Ba.s.s shouted, 'What?' He jumped on top of him. 'You don't say f.u.c.king things like that to the lieutenant, you understand?' He started beating the man's head against the ground, rattling his body with his short solid forearms. 'You f.u.c.king understand?' The man couldn't answer, because his head was being pounded into the ground.