HUNT CLUB
Copyright©2003 by Ed Howdershelt
ISBN 1-932693-09-2
Caution: Some Erotic Content
Prologue:
Twenty-year-old Becky Charlton hunkered in the corner of the Andlissor Baptist Church's business office, clutching an ornate sword-shaped letter opener as she hissingly mumbled semicoherent, half-remembered abjurations of Satan from Bible passages and gasped for breath.
She felt lightheaded and that added to her terror. If she fainted, she'd have no chance at all, and the... the thing... was near; she could feel it... Another shock raced through her as she realized that the demon had come into her church! How could a demon enter a church?!
A bit more than a little overweight, Becky's absolute, blind terror and her frantic dash from the pulpit she'd been dusting had winded her completely. Holding the letter opener stiffly in front of her, heedless of the other people in the office, she stared starkly at the nebulous figure that appeared in the hallway beyond the door and keened in terror.
Pastor Robert "Bobby" Adams, his heart still racing from the shock of Becky's crashing entrance, unfroze himself and stood up slowly to lean across his desk and peer through the doorway.
The corridor was empty, of course. With a mental sigh, he came to the conclusion that Becky had finally flipped out completely. When she'd joined his quiet little East Texas church, she'd seemed more routinely intense about her religiousness than anyone he'd met in a long time. He'd actually spent some time trying to help her to moderate some of her beliefs a bit, to no avail.
She couldn't clearly describe the demons she'd claimed to have seen back in Virginia and North Carolina, but said that she'd been seeing them since her childhood, when her daddy had been stationed at various Air Force bases.
Her first husband, an Army corporal, had put up with her hyper-religious mindset and periodic demon-sightings for almost two years, but then she'd seen one at the Ft. Monroe Commissary one Friday evening.
She'd had a screaming, frozen-food-throwing fit before fleeing in panic to the parking lot. After driving their pickup truck through two closed gates and being chased at speeds above sixty by the MP's, Becky's flight ended against a concrete pillar that protected a narrow casemate archway.
A couple of weeks later, Becky was released from a Newport News, Va. psych ward, and a few months later she was also released from her marriage. She moved back to Texas to live with her parents and joined the Andlissor Baptist Church.
As a church volunteer she'd been tireless and invaluable, but she'd managed to make a number of people uncomfortable with her incessant, strident talk of demons. Quite a few of the other church volunteers preferred not to work with her and Pastor Adams had been specifically requested by the board of directors not to assign her to the daycare center.
Ushering all but his assistant, Evelyn Bush, out of the office, Adams whisperingly told Evelyn to close the office door.
Giving him a fisheye look, Evelyn hesitantly said, "Uh, I really don't think that's a good idea, Bob. Closing the door might scare her even more."
"Look at her, Eve. How much more frightened is it possible to be?"
Evelyn stood straight and declared, "All right, then; let's say that it'll scare me more, too. She came busting in here screaming about a demon and now she's ready to stick somebody with that great big ol' letter opener. No, sir. If you want that door closed, you'll close it behind me."
Adams sighed and put a hand on her arm placatingly.
"Okay, Eve. But I'd prefer to have another female present until the police arrive. Can you do that for me?"
Evelyn, normally a rather meek woman, met his gaze firmly and said, "Pastor Adams, if you don't want to be in here alone with her, I suggest you leave with me and let the police handle her."
Trying to assume command, Adams hissed, "All right, then! Don't close the door, but stay in the room while I try to talk to her! Will you at least do that much for me?"
Without waiting for her answer he turned to begin cautiously approaching Becky Charlton, speaking softly and asking her to put down the letter opener. Becky stared at him uncomprehendingly for a moment, then returned her attention to the doorway as jumbled thoughts flitted through her mind.
'He can't see it? It's finally come for me. Big as daylight, right here in my own church! How can it come into a church?! Why can't he see it?!'
Becky had recognized the demon. She'd seen it walking among the people at the Vietnam War memorial in Washington when her parents had taken her there. It had appeared then as it had by the pulpit; in the form of a red-haired woman who had been able to follow her wherever she'd run or hidden and asked her in a pleading voice to 'just listen for a moment'.
Ha. Sure. She wouldn't be turned into one of Satan's minions. Not her. Not Becky Charlton.
In a blind panic she'd run until she couldn't run anymore, then she'd found herself in an alleyway. When she'd heard footsteps nearby, she'd been ready to run again, but her father appeared at the mouth of the alley.
He'd approached her with quieting words and taken her in his arms and she'd felt safe at last as he carried her to the street. That's where Becky saw her mother talking to the demon, thanking it for its assistance in finding her.
Becky came unglued, screaming and struggling until one of her flailing arms knocked her father's glasses off and into a street, where they were crushed by a passing car. It was then that he knelt and placed her over his knee to spank her twice rather smartly, then yanked her upright and yelled at her to shut the fuck up and settle down.
When he then tried to hand her to her mother so he could retrieve his broken glasses, Becky had stared at the demon, sucked in a deep breath, screamed, and tried to run again, but the demon caught her before she could get a dozen steps and handed panic-stricken Becky to her parents, then left.
Pastor Adams continued his cautious, soft-spoken approach. From the depths of Becky's panic-addled mind bubbled the thought that since a demon couldn't enter a church, this couldn't be a real church. That meant that Pastor Bob couldn't be a real pastor, and he was almost close enough to touch her. He was trying to get the letter opener away from her!
Locking in on the thought that he must be in league with the devil, Becky slashed at his hand. Adams hurriedly reached for his handkerchief to try to control the bleeding as he realized it was just a scratch and thanked his deity that she had a letter opener instead of a kitchen knife.
Gathering all that she seemed to have left within her, Becky shakily got to her feet and lunged at Adams in an attempt to plant the letter opener in his chest. Adams looked up from his injured hand to see Becky rushing toward him and froze.
That's when Anna Corinth moved quickly from the hallway to step between Becky and Adams. She disarmed Becky and shoved her hard enough to set her on her ass against the wall.
Adams stared at the tall, red-haired woman who'd saved him. He'd never seen her in the church before. For that matter, he'd never seen her before at all, of that he was sure. He'd remember a woman like that. He belatedly wondered how the hell she'd gotten to Becky so quickly from the hallway.
As the demon had entered the room, Becky had screamed one of those piercing, horror movie screams that seems to go on forever. As the demon had snatched the letter opener and shoved her, Becky had screamed again and fallen. She screamed again as the demon approached her. And again, as the demon knelt in front of her and spoke to her.
"Please, Becky, this isn't necessary at all. Don't be frightened."
Becky screamed again as the demon put a hand on her shoulder.
"Becky. Becky, listen to me. Calm down."
Not a chance. Becky started flailing at the demon as she screamed. Looking down at the pathetic woman through another such scream, Anna Corinth knelt to place a hand over Becky's mouth and pin her flailing head to the wall as she spoke to her. Becky's heart seemed to stop with terror and a great rushing, ringing noise filled her ears.
"Becky," Corinth said quietly, "I won't hurt you. Do you understand?"
She repeated her words twice before Becky's stark, panic-stricken stare ended. Becky's eyes rolled upwards and closed as she ceased her struggles and went limp against the wall.
Standing up, Anna looked at the letter opener for a moment, then wiped it thoroughly with a tissue from a nearby desk and handed it to Adams. After another glance at Becky, she turned and walked out of the office past Adams and his assistant and strode down the hallway to the side entrance. Once outside, she walked between the church van and the building and disappeared.
* * *
I let the answering machine do its job, as always, with 'Hi, there. If you're someone I'm likely to call back, leave a message at the beep.'
"Hi, Ed," said Anna. "I'll be..."
Picking up the phone, I said, "I'm here. How did it go with Charlton?"
"Not well at all. Remember Jack Macer?"
"Oooo. That bad, huh?"
"No. Worse. She stuck her pastor with a letter opener."
"Damn. Well, being a sensitive doesn't necessarily mean that someone's going to be sensible, does it? Where are you now?"
"About twenty miles from Spring Hill. I have to stop in Pasco. Make it an hour, I think."
"You gonna want coffee or gin when you get here?"
"A gin, probably. Thanks. How was your day?"
"So-so. Hardesty's wife called again."
Anna's tone softened as she replied, "Oh? News already?"
"Yup. I'm invited to the funeral."
"What was it? A heart attack?"
"Yup. Too much good living, I guess. And it didn't help that he was so far out that it took the Coast Guard twenty minutes to find his boat. He died on the way to the hospital."
"You don't sound too broken up. Are you okay about it?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. I won't be going to the funeral, though. It's in California."
"He may have left you something, you know."
"Doubtful, but if he did, they can mail it. Or not. He was an old acquaintance, not a close friend."
"Okay. See you in a while, then. Bye."
She clicked off and I hung up thinking about Hardesty. Age 55; only three years older than me. A heart attack. Damn. He hadn't been a close friend, but he'd shared some rather trying times with me long ago in another part of the world.
Chapter One
The slight mental pressure of someone's approaching presence intruded on my reading. Off-duty time or not, the presence felt like Lt. Hardesty, so I decided to look busy. I put my book face down on my bunk and picked up a clipboard that I'd swiped from supply, then poised a pen over some old supply forms that had come with the clipboard.
When Hardesty stopped in the sandbag-bunker doorway and blocked the light, I sighed and said, "Rushing me won't get things done any sooner, Wilkins."
"I'm not Wilkins," said Lt. Hardesty.
Pretending surprise, I stood up and said, "Oh, hi, LT. What's up? Did you come to save me from these damned supply forms?"
He grinned as his eyebrows and hands came up protestingly.
"Oh, hell, no, Sarge. If you don't do 'em, I'll have to. Screw that. There's a meeting at fifteen hundred. All NCO's."
Looking mildly concerned, I said, "Well, I'd better check with my social secretary before I commit to anything, of course. I'm booked pretty solid, but I think I may be able to spare the Army a few minutes this afternoon."
He grinned and waved as he turned to go. "I'm sure the Army will be properly grateful. Later, Sarge."
Once he was outside some distance, I set down the clipboard and picked up my book for another two hours of reading before the meeting.
2nd Lt. Hardesty wasn't typical. Most butterbar lieutenants had difficulties with anything not clearly delineated in an Army-issue manual, but Hardesty had a tendency to go with our group's flow when possible.
An example had been when I'd started carrying a .45 pistol loaded with hollowpoint ammo. He'd questioned that because I already had an M-16 and there was nothing in my records to indicate proficiency with the pistol.
I'd drawn the .45 from its holster, aimed at a rat that was scampering between the concertina barricades some thirty paces distant, and fired, all within two seconds or so. Part of the rat seemed to explode and it tumbled down the hillside.
Reholstering the .45, I said, "The record's incomplete, Lt."
Hardesty had stared at me for a moment before saying, "Uh, so I see. Jesus. But still..."
Sgt. Andrews bellowed, "Damn good shot, Sarge!" as he approached, then, "LT, a lot of us carry things that aren't exactly regulation."
He hauled out his black-bladed Kershaw bowie knife and said, "With all due respect, we know what we're doing out there, sir. Don't try to fix what ain't broke, y'know?"
Handing the knife to Hardesty, Andrews said, "We just feel better 'cause we have 'em."
Hardesty examined the knife for a moment, then shrugged, handed the knife back, and said, "What the hell. If you're willing to haul extra stuff around, go ahead."
That example doesn't mean that Hardesty always shrugged and said, "Yeah, sure, whatever," or let the NCO's push him around. It simply means that Hardesty listened to us. Heard us. Tried to understand us.
All that brigade and above cared about were body counts and being able to say that a chunk of turf had been 'pacified' within someone's timetable, so area sweeps had become hurried affairs that created far too damned many casualties.
Thursday's sweep had been a trip through the Seven Rings of Hell that had cost Bravo company eleven men in a series of ambushes, but because Hardesty had listened to us, none of the bagged bodies were from second or third platoons and we captured two prisoners.
When Sgts Springer, Bates, and I told Hardesty what had happened to another company in that same area the month before he'd arrived as our XO, Hardesty had been visibly appalled. We'd then made and presented our own plans for keeping up with the herd during the sweep.
We'd been issued a route and a time limit. The route would have been a good one if it hadn't been for two things; it had been drawn by office pogues whose vision had been obscured by somebody's higher-ranking ass, and the VC had moved a helluva lot of extra troops in to the valley.
"Screw that," said Bates. "Some jerk's got us marching straight down the middle of the valley. Maybe his mama raised an idiot, but mine didn't."
Half a dozen agreements came from other NCO's at the table, myself included.
Hardesty grinned and said, "Well, then, let's have your learned suggestions, gentlemen. You know the goal, the destination, and the time limit. Give me your alternatives."
Springer said, "We'll set a few little traps of our own tonight and listen to the music when Chuckie finds 'em. 2nd and 3rd platoons'll be able to hold a parade through there tomorrow."
"Roger that, LT," said Bates, grinning hugely.
"It'll be a real cautious parade," I said, "But he's right, LT. I'll rig the area tonight."
With a narrow gaze, Hardesty looked at me and asked, "That's a good half a mile or so of rigging at each end of the valley. How many men will you need?"
"A couple of guys can help me haul stuff out there this afternoon. We'll set things up tonight and be back before dawn to mark the maps."
On the verge of an automatic refusal, Hardesty started to say something, but Springer interrupted.
"LT, you only got six months here to worry about. We all got about that many here already and too damned many still to go, so you know we won't be makin' any stupid suggestions." Thumbing at me, he said, "Let us go out there and rig that valley. You know we've done stuff like this before and Charlie'll suffer big time, sir."
Hardesty studied Springer's face for a moment, then looked at Bates, who gave him a slow, wide grin and looked at me.
After a moment Hardesty dubiously said to me, "That's still a lot of ground to cover."
"So we'll hurry a little."
Chewing his lip for a moment, Hardesty finally sighed and said, "Oh, hell. Yeah. Right. Okay. Sure. Pull what you think you'll need and go do it."
I nodded and turned to Springer and Bates.
"You guys busy this evening?"
"My date canceled," said Springer. "So I was gonna do my hair, but..."
He let his sentence trail off and Bates snorted a laugh.
"Sure, Sarge. I'd like to sleep late tomorrow. I'm in."
Two hours later our deuce and a half truck stopped as if it had a problem and we all got out to pretend to check the left rear tires. The VC were most dangerous at night; during the day the road saw fairly heavy traffic. Three GI's bitching loudly over a flat tire or a dead vehicle wasn't an unusual sight.
Just in case a VC had us in his sights, I hauled out the PRC-25 and radioed in our first stop. That reminded any VC watchers that we could call an air strike on the whole damned hillside if they plinked at us.
Concealed between the truck and heavy brush on the side of the road, Bates and I quickly dug a shallow hole and buried two cases of claymore mines as Springer changed the tire. When we got moving again, Bates goosed the engine sharply a few times and turned off the ignition. The truck backfired and jerked to a halt.
We got out to look under the hood and fake a fix, then got moving again. Just before we reached the other end of the valley, Bates killed the engine again and we coasted to a stop on the side of the road. Swearing loudly this time and pounding on the truck, we radioed in and pretended to mess with things under the hood again.
Another two cases of mines were buried as Bates faked another repair, then we got underway again. In the village we did some trading and I patched up a kid's foot injury and popped him with a tetanus shot, then we headed back to base in first and second gears as if we still had some kind of problem. That gave us time to look for prints made by sandals or bare feet around our cache points, but there were none.
Just after dark we moved out on foot and dug up our first cache of mines about an hour later.
"Back in a while," I said, handing my M-16 to Bates and taking four grenades. "Remember, the number is fifteen."
"Fifteen," repeated Springer.
When I looked at Bates, he said, "Yeah, got it. Fifteen."
Picking up six claymores and a roll of wire, I stepped well into the brush and ghosted. At a crossing of faint trails I anchored the first two mines to tree limbs so they faced downward to cover two directions, then strung the wires about ten feet away on each trail.
As I was placing two more mines further along the other branch of the trail to catch any survivors, I felt people not far away. After setting the mines, I investigated and found two VC freshly dug in for a night of trail watching. Great. There'd be a snack nearby when my vamp virus started bitching.
When I returned to the cache for more mines, I stood behind a sizeable tree on general principles as I whispered, "Coming in."
One of the guys whispered, "Six."
"Nine."
"Close enough. Come on in."
After having a slug of coffee from my canteen, I grabbed another six mines and went back to work.
Simply remaining in ghost mode for a few hours isn't too taxing, but when you use it to levitate even short distances it eats power fast. My virus was beginning to jangle at me, so after I set up that load of mines, I flitted back up the hillside and clubbed the two VC unconscious.
Using my bayonet to slice one VC's throat, I then leaned him forward and held my canteen cup to catch a pint or so. A few minutes later, feeling refreshed and recharged, I tied and gagged the other VC, used his canteen water to rinse out my cup, and then went for more claymores.
By midnight we were out of mines at the first cache and we'd reburied the empty crates. Keeping well back from the road, we made it to the second cache just before one.
After two more flights to place mines I had to stop and feed again, so I revisited the VC position and tanked up from the remaining live one, again using my bayonet and cup. I left them looking as though they'd been quietly taken out by a special ops team.
Once the other claymores had been placed, we started back to base with just under two hours of darkness remaining. I was hungry again; I'd spent most of the night hauling hardware through the night sky and my energy reserves were low enough that I knew I wouldn't get any sleep unless I quieted my virus.
Bates was on point and we were spread out yards apart. I tossed a fist-sized chunk of dried mud high and well ahead of us. When it burst against something solid and noisily splattered the surrounding vegetation, Springer and Bates instantly merged with the brush and froze.
Going to ghost mode, I lifted and headed toward the village in the valley below, where the VC would be collecting "taxes" from the farmers, and looked for VC standing watch near the edge of the village.
Bingo. A single aura, squatting in concealment where he could stop anyone from coming or going or raise an alarm.
An 'accident' seemed appropriate. No need to let the VC know that anyone in particular had killed the guard; they might think a villager had done it. I clobbered the guard and dragged him to where someone had been splitting logs nearby.
After pulling up a large, sharp sliver on a log, I jammed the guard's chest onto the sliver, then lifted him off it.
When my canteen cup was full I put the guard back on the sliver, then lifted and headed back toward Springer and Bates, sipping as I flew. After rinsing the cup, I put it away and zeroed in on their auras in the jungle below.
They'd moved further toward the mudball disturbance, carefully and quietly picking their way along the sides of a faint trail. I dropped down near where the mudball had landed and whispered, "Eight."
"Seven," whispered Bates. "No contact?"
"Nothing here. All clear."
"How the hell did you get ahead of us?"
"Skill. Luck. Superior woodsmanship. Stuff like that."
"Uh, huh. Sometimes I think you're some kind of goddamn spook."
"Well, thank you, kind sir. I'd say you do all right out here, too."
Springer joined us and looked around, then started moving again without a word. He was like that, sometimes even around the base. No banter, all business.
When we got back to camp, I marked the mine locations on two maps and left them with the NCOIC, then hit the sack. The base was almost empty when I woke around one and braved the broiling sun for a trip to the mess tent for some coffee. Cookie saw me coming and tossed me a cup.
"Heard what you guys did last night," he said. "We've been hearing explosions out that way all morning, too. Should be an interesting day for all concerned."
Nodding as I tapped the coffee urn, I said, "Yup. Got anything left of lunch, or did you send everything out to the unit?"
"I saved some of the good stuff just for you guys. Check the fridge."
"The good stuff, huh? Thanks. Have Springer and Bates shown up yet?"
"Springer did, maybe an hour ago. He went to watch the show, I think."
After filling a tray with cold cuts and potato salad, I headed for a table. A distant popping sound made Cookie smile slightly and say, "Sounds like you guys got another one, Sarge. That was number ten or eleven, I think."
"We set out four cases of claymores last night, Cookie. Charlie won't be having a good day today."
"No damned doubt. Well, back to work for me." He headed behind the serving line with a steam tray and tossed, "Yell if you want anything," over his shoulder.
There was no point in wondering how the sweep was going, so I didn't. Bates dropped by for a few minutes, then Springer. When I didn't show much interest in the sweep, they went to the commo bunker to listen in on radio traffic.
Don't get me wrong, people. My unit was out there and I wished them the best possible luck, of course, but I'm not one to worry about things I can't control. I'd done what I could to safeguard their valley trip; now it was all up to them.
"Some kind of a goddamn spook," Bates had said of me. Little did he know.
In two months of being a vampire I'd learned how to mask my presence to all but other vampires and uninfected sensitives and how to flare my aura in ghost mode and levitate.
That little talent still puzzles the hell out of me; nobody seems to have more than a pet theory about how it works and I'll be absolutely damned if I can figure out how my virus manages that trick.
Comfortable travel by levitation -- for me, anyway -- seems to range just under three hundred and fifty miles per pint, and if I don't tipple along the way, my virus starts jangling my nerves and demanding a donation.
If I don't feed it by three-fifty or so, the jangling becomes a pretty damned nerve-wracking clamor, complete with a headache and a rapidly-growing hunger will continue to worsen in transit. Downing even a few ounces of blood has the almost immediate effect of quelling the virus.
According to my mentor, Major Anna Corinth, that scarlet snack can come from any kind of mammal big enough to supply a pint or so, but I prefer to look for enemy troops. There's no shortage of VC, after all, and every one of them that I eliminate with my bayonet starts another fearful rumor about the phenomenal abilities of the US recondo teams.
For a while after my conversion, a general sense of disbelief about what had happened to me had been a big part of my daily state of mind. Until Major Corinth and Captain Hartley had entered my life I hadn't believed in vampires; not even a little bit. But after a weekend with those ladies, I believed. Oh, yes, indeed.
Corinth's "join us or die" sales pitch hadn't particularly impressed me when she'd made it. She hadn't yet convinced me that she wasn't simply a nutcase fan of vampire movies, but when I'd tried to leave, her speed and strength in capturing me had been phenomenal.
Then she'd opened my wrist with an Xacto knife and the ladies had taken turns feeding on my blood. By the end of their snacking, their vampire virus had taken hold in me and sealed the wound almost without a trace.
After an evening of sensual partying with them I'd gone back to my BEQ room and slept like the dead -- pun intended, of course -- and then wakened on Saturday wondering if it had all been a dream.
Nope. No dream. The following afternoon Corinth had rammed a serrated steak knife into my chest in order to hurry the virus's renovation of me. Her method apparently worked; I healed completely in about fifteen minutes.
By late that evening I was able to see auras and shove a parked jeep sideways, albeit by using both hands and some effort. Marian Hartley had glanced around, shoved the jeep back using only one hand, then stuck her tongue out at me and laughed.
Corinth, Anna. Major, US Army. A tall, red-headed, green-eyed, gorgeous head nurse who'd seemed scary enough with only her rank and her commanding attitude. I discovered that she didn't simply run ward seven; she ruled it.
Hartley, Marian. Captain, US Army. A brunette nurse who looks as if she might once have been a cheerleader, who giggles and laughs easily, and who had seemed truly upset about having to convert me by force in Corinth's office.
When they'd taken me to Hartley's BOQ room afterward for some spiced rum and a quiet orgy, I'd readily demonstrated my forgiveness, of course.
Although I'd begun to wonder about the reality of it all, I damned sure hadn't let it worry me much when faced with what seemed like miles of fine female flesh to explore.
There were two more explosions in the distance as I finished my lunch.
Cookie grinned at me and cupped a hand to his ear as if listening to distant music, then softly sang, "The hills are alive..."
I grinned back and cleaned my tray, then refilled my coffee and headed to the commo bunker, where Springer and Bates were sitting on top of the bunker's south wall.
Bates waved briefly at me and Springer nodded, then both turned back to watch the hillsides, passing a pair of binoculars back and forth and occasionally pointing at various spots.
Without binoculars I couldn't see much out there, so I went inside the commo bunker. Radio traffic was as confusing as usual for such operations. The commo guy glanced up as I entered the bunker and walked up to Captain Drake.
"How goes the war, Cap?"
Drake shrugged and glanced down at his watch.
"We're only down two men in... almost seven hours. Not bad, really. Both men were wounded. One bad, one not so bad. Could have been a helluva lot worse. Delta company lost nine men before noon on the other side."
He turned to look at me and said, "Lt. Hardesty told me why you were sleeping in this morning. You guys did a great job last night, Sarge. A really great job. Pass it on for me, will you?"
There was a muffled thump on the roof and Bates's head poked down in front of the view slit.
He grinned and said, "Thanks, Captain," then he pulled himself back up as Springer yelled, "Yeah! Thanks, Cap!"
I borrowed binoculars to have a look at the sweep. As I watched four of our guys check out an area, there was an explosion somewhat up the slope from them and they dropped flat. After a few seconds they got up and went to check it out. They returned dragging two VC down to the trail.
"It's been like that all day," said Drake. "Must be a truckload of dead VC out there. We don't have any firm numbers yet, though."
"Doesn't matter," I said. "We'll never win this war this way. They'll have the same number of Chucks out there by Monday, if not sooner."
The radioman -- who'd only been with us about two weeks -- looked at me as if I'd uttered heresy, then glanced at Drake.
Drake said nothing and continued watching the valley for some moments before saying, "Yeah, I know."
After a few minutes the radio noise got to me and I left the commo bunker to return to my own bunker for some reading. Glancing under my bunk, I saw that I was more than halfway through the two dozen books I'd picked up at the hospital BX. It was almost time to make another trip.
Chapter Two
Both platoons returned around seven that evening. I opened the dispensary and treated nearly a third of them for everything from sunburns to fairly serious cuts that they hadn't reported during the sweep.
Spec.4 Collier was the worst of them; he'd only been with us for about a week, seemed to think he had something to prove, and hadn't reported either a sliced-open calf or the fact that he'd been about to keel over from sunstroke. I handed him a glass of shock solution, which he tasted and then promptly refused to drink.
"That's some really nas-ty shit, Sarge."
"You'll drink it or you'll meet the XO," I said. "Then you'll wind up pulling shit details for a week and drinking it anyway, so just drink it now and get it over with. I've got six more from 2nd platoon to check out."
"You wouldn't really report me for something this chickenshit, would you?"
"Collier, you barely made it through the day. If you'd fallen on your face, a couple of guys would have been tied up with hauling your ass out. Let yourself go like this again and I'll have somebody dose you with this stuff twice a day on general principles for as long as you're with us."
He stalled a moment too long. When I have wounded to patch, I don't fuck around with halfwits. Striding to the door, I called the nearest three-striper -- Andrews -- over and pointed to Collier.
"Make sure he drinks that," I said. "I'll come back in a few minutes to clean up his leg. I'd like you to stick around for that, too."
Obscuring most of the doorway as he stepped into the dispensary, Andrews grinned maliciously at Collier and said, "You got it, Sarge."
Andrews was a huge, imposing presence in the little room. It seemed to me that Collier paled a bit as he approached. I worked on someone's arm, then on someone else's back where a branch had opened a gash. When I turned back to Collier the glass was empty.
He tried to tough it out as he watched me clean out the gash on his leg, but not long after I started the job I hit something solid within the muscle mass. It was deep, but it moved, so removal wasn't going to present too much of a problem.
"Maybe a frag," I said. "Maybe a bit of rock. You're lucky it didn't hit you in the ass, Collier. You really don't need any brain damage."
Collier started a snide response, then made a retching sound and ran for the latrine. Andrews looked at me and shook his head.
"Whatta jerk," he said, heading for the door. "I'll get him."
"Thanks, Andrews."
I checked over a few more cuts and scrapes and some sunburns, then picked two of the least damaged patients to sweep and mop while I put things away and readied another glass of shockjuice for Collier.
When Andrews brought him back to the dispensary I had Collier sit on the gurney. Andrews kept a grip on him while I worked on his leg. Collier protested the necessity of that, but we ignored him and I dug out the half-inch bit of stone I discovered in the wound. When I wordlessly showed the bloody bit of rock to Collier, he passed out.
That made things lots easier. I finished cleaning out the wound, packed it to drain and stitched it, then bandaged it. Taking advantage of the fact that he was unconscious, I checked to see if he was allergic to penicillin, then zapped him with a syringe.
At my nod Andrews lightly patted Collier's face. Collier sat up in a rather dazed fashion, felt the bandage on his leg and looked at it, then stared blankly at the bit of stone in the bowl as he idly rubbed his left arm.
"Here you go," I said, handing him the second glass of shock solution. "Make it all go away, hero."
Collier made a face and whined, "Aww, man..!"
"You shouldn't have thrown up the first one. Shut up and drink it or I'll have Andrews, here, sit on you while I pour it down your throat."
Glaring at me like an angry five-year-old, Collier made a production of forcing himself to drink the shockjuice, then thrust the empty glass at me.
"That's a good little soldier," I said. "Now you just sit there for a few minutes and let everything soak in."
He rubbed his arm again and frowned. "Did you stick me with a needle?"
"Oh, yeah. Sure did, Collier. Penicillin." I held up the half-empty penicillin bottle and said, "A whole bunch of it, just to be sure. Used the biggest needle I could find, too, just so it would hurt a little more."
Glancing at the small plastic syringe on the tray, Collier said, "Bullshit."
I washed the glass and the bit of rock in the sink, then tossed the pebble to Collier. He stared at the half-inch bit of Vietnamese rock for a moment and seemed about to pass out again as Andrews laughed.
He slapped Collier's shoulder as he said, "Well, there ya go, Collier. Your very first Purple Heart. Many happy returns."
Collier looked at Andrews as if he was out of his mind. Andrews laughed again.
"I had to dig kind of deep for that souvenir," I said, "So you're on light duty for three days. Gimme a minute and I'll give you a profile slip to cover it. Be here in the morning for a bandage change."
By the time I'd locked up it was nearly nine. I stepped outside into the darkness of a clear, moonless night. The stars shone like tiny diamonds and the air seemed cleaner, but that may only have been because it was cooler. A presence like my own, that of a vampire, filled the shadows behind me.
"Hi, GI," came a soft, feminine whisper.
Turning to face the whisperer, I saw Marian Hartley's aura glowing a soft white and gold from the shadows beside the dispensary and smiled at her.
"Hi, yourself, milady," I whispered back.
"Are you all finished? Ready to go?"
"Very ready," I said, stepping into the shadows and merging with them.
We lifted into the night sky and headed north toward the village.
"Glad you could make it," I said.
"Oh, no problem," said Marian. "I make all the shift schedules for the ward."
"Is Anna coming, too?"
"She can't tonight." With a giggle, Marian added, "Like I said, I make the shift schedules."
"Tacky."
"Oh, not really. We take turns with you, you know. This is my week to visit."
There was movement below. I pointed and Marian nodded. We descended into the trees to find two VC threading their way along a faint trail. Marian unsheathed her personal blade as I pulled my bayonet. Although we both carried .45 pistols, we'd never used them for hunting. They were for emergencies only.
Marian's knife was a four-inch stiletto style Solingen blade with a carved bone handle. She'd told me that she'd seen it in a sporting goods store in Denver some years ago and "simply had to have it."
Apparently they didn't check officers the way they did enlisteds. When I'd left the States and again when I'd arrived here, they'd searched me and dumped my stuff out to paw through it as if they were afraid I'd try to sneak something dangerous into a frigging war zone.
Marian simply dropped down in front of her victim and drove the knife into his chest as she shoved him back against a tree hard enough to knock him unconscious.
The other guy unslung his rifle in a panic. He didn't finish the motion. My bayonet impaled his heart. I let him down easy as he faded and laid his rifle on his chest.
Snapping her collapsable aluminum cup open, Marian let her VC fill it, then let him slide to a sitting position against the tree. I took out my canteen, separated my canteen cup, and filled it from the same VC.
"You've been using a cup every time?" she asked, "It's important, Ed. We don't want to leave any trace of our virus behind, not even out here."
"Yes, mother," I said sardonically. "I've been using my sippy cup."
She snickered, then giggled softly.
Something about being infected with the vampire virus had seemed to override my innate revulsion about sipping other peoples' blood, but at first it had been quite an ordeal. My virus had clamored insanely to be fed even as I'd been totally repulsed by the idea.
Anna Corinth had helped me through my first feeding by using herself as the vessel; sipping from a baggie and sharing with me through her lustful kisses. Probably just as well. I'm a hardhead about some things. I'd have probably resisted until the virus had made me truly dangerous and careless.
To avoid discovery, we were supposed to find ways to feed that wouldn't create a local disturbance; to make our victims' injuries look war-related or even accidental. In a war zone that was no big trick, but I didn't particularly relish the idea of trying to find ways to feed surreptitiously in the civilian world.
Blood banks, sure. We had people in donation centers in every major city and some that weren't so major, as well as most of the meat packing plants. There were even some nightclubs that offered a special beverage list for special customers, but some of us preferred only fresh blood -- human or otherwise -- so there were a lot of vampires in the medical profession, particularly in fields involving hematology.
Diseases couldn't touch us in the least, but drugs and alcohol could, however briefly. Ever see the MAD magazine cartoon that featured a vampire feeding on a street bum and then staggering away? Truth. The virus eliminated drugs or booze fairly quickly, but for maybe fifteen minutes we'd be damned near as stoned as the donor had been.
'Donor.' That was our popular euphemism for 'victim'.
Yeah, well, we hardly ever drained anyone dry without good reason. Marian had told me about how she'd hunted and killed drug dealers around Denver when she'd been known as Janine Tarner.
She'd watch for them, catch them in the act of dealing just to be sure, and follow them until she could contrive a way to make it look as if one of their own had done them in. Her descriptions of several such stalkings and feedings made them sound almost like games.
When I asked her why she'd stopped, she told me about finding a Denver police badge in a victim's pocket. Yes, he'd sold drugs, but had that been part of a cover?
I told her I thought that was unlikely; undercover cops know they may be searched on the job and don't carry their shields. More likely it had been stolen, especially if nobody'd reported a dead or missing cop.
Marian had shrugged and said that it had nonetheless put a different light on things and that she'd begun to wonder if all of her victims had been justifiable.
Then along came the Vietnam war. Janine Tarner had seen a chance to swap lives and identities. Anna Corinth had helped her get documents to become Marian Hartley and sign up for nursing school under an Army education program.
After her second cupful from the VC, Marian said, "Let's go down to the stream."
"Right with you, milady."
I knew what she had in mind. We lifted and drifted, letting the slight night wind carry us along. After a heavy feeding we tend to feel a bit lethargic for a little while and a fairly severe case of the hornies kicks in.
Tonight's feed had been large, indeed, and Marian had used me for hours after other such feedings before heading back to Dong Tam and '3rd Surge', as most people called the Army's 3rd Surgical and Evac hospital. I'd be lucky to get two hours of sleep before the Army dragged me out of my bunk.
"Oh, well," I thought with a happy little grin.
Marian settled by the stream and stared into the water for a few moments, then rinsed her cup and knife and put them in her purse. I cleaned my own cup and bayonet and put them away, then sat down beside her.
"Sometimes," she said quietly as she removed her pistol belt, "I hate what we are. What we have to do."
Putting an arm around her, I said, "Don't sweat it. Those guys were setting traps for our guys. You work in the ER. You've seen the results."
Nodding slightly she said, "Yeah. I know." Leaning to speak in a confidential tone, she said, "But getting so damned horny afterward... That still bugs me after all these years. It's like we aren't in control of our own lives and bodies."
I shrugged. "Who really is? But I figure things could be a lot worse. You could be ugly as sin; instead you're a beauty queen. I can live with that."
She gave me a small smile. "Nice try, but I'm still bugged."
"Maybe you're trying too hard, ma'am. Things are as they are and they aren't all that bad, really. And anyway, what's the alternative to things as they are?"
"Yeah, I know. Don't worry; these moods don't last long."
There in the moonlight we heard and felt the water as it flowed by and watched the auras of small things that lived in and around the stream go about their lives. Like tiny neon signs they flickered and flashed apparently aimlessly until something brightly purple and maybe six inches long flashed from beneath a rock and returned in the blink of an eye.
Marian startled with a soft "Aah!" and yanked her bare feet out of the water, then giggled and put them back with a sigh.
"Old habits," she said with a wry grin.
Maybe her mood had changed enough by then or maybe the startlement and minor embarrassment had changed it. Whatever. Her aura morphed slightly to more gold than white and I knew what that meant. I kissed her long and gently and she warmly returned it.
When we broke the kiss she said, "These damned auras make things pretty obvious, don't they?"
"Yup. But I figure mine reflected yours fairly closely, so we're probably even."
Giggling again, she said, "Yes. It did."
Kissing her again, I said, "Good. No point in being out of synch with each other, right?"
"No. Definitely not." With a sigh, she lay back on the streambank and dramatically said, "You may take me now, sir."
"Oh, thank you, milady. Shall I try to be gentle?"
This time she laughed. "I won't, so why should you?"
What did the Viet locals think of the sounds in the jungle that night? Who knows; maybe some old legends were dusted off or new legends begun.
We parted company above my base around two; she to return to 3rd Surge and me to dump the enemy rifles in the river, then to try to blend with my bunk for a few hours.
I landed beside the dispensary and looked around. A guy was walking toward the latrines and another one crossed the compound to enter the commo bunker. I stepped from the shadows and headed for my own bunker at a slow amble.
A voice I recognized as Andrews asked, "Where the hell have you been, Sarge?" as I passed the mess tent.
"Lots of places," I said. "Texas, Colorado, California..."
He didn't laugh as he stepped out of the mess tent. The black band with CQ on it let me know that he was on a Charge of Quarters duty shift.
"Someone was lookin' for you earlier," he said, "Winters."
"The Commo NCO? Why?"
"You got a message of some kind around ten. Came in a helo drop from brigade. We looked all over for you. Where were you?"
I gave him an exasperated sigh and said, "Hiding from people with messages, man. The last time I got one it was bad news from Uncle Sam."
"Oh." As if something had dawned on him, he said somewhat more firmly, "Oh. Yeah. Okay, I can dig that."
"Cool," I said, moving on. "Have room service deliver my breakfast in bed around ten, willya?"
"What about the message? They don't just up and drop stuff on us at night like that unless it's some bad-assed kind of important."
Shrugging, I said, "They didn't see fit to stop the war over it, so it'll probably be there when I get up."
"Hey, it could be a family emergency, man."
Sighing, I said, "I still couldn't get out of here until tomorrow afternoon at the earliest, so there's no point in losing any sleep over it, is there? Good night, Andrews."
Chapter Three
The last-shift CQ slapped the doorway at six and yelled, then moved on to slap and yell at someone else's doorway.
'Musta learned that from a goddamned drill sergeant,' I thought.
I didn't like being jarred awake like that and resolved to correct his methods, but not until after I'd had some coffee.
Ablutions. Breakfast and coffee. Half a dozen people telling me I'd received a message during the night. Yeah, yeah. Know about it. Thanks, anyway. Bye.
"By God," said Lt. Hardesty from behind me, "You're just a ray of fucking sunshine in the morning, aren't you?"
In a conversational tone I said, "I may be a little off-key this morning, LT. 'Sides, this place isn't short on sunshine."
When I looked around he was grinning.
"Here. I brought you your special-delivery mail."
He tossed a large, well-stuffed white envelope on the table. The return address was a blue logo that read "N.O.W." and a P.O. box in Dallas.
'National Organization for Women?' I thought. 'What the hell..?'
I decided that it wasn't something I wanted to open over breakfast in a crowded Army mess tent and turned the envelope face down next to my tray.
"Aren't you going to open it?"
"Maybe later, LT. Why didn't it come in the regular mail?"
"It did, sort of. The drop last night was a combo thing. Army stuff and private stuff in separate bags. Guess they thought they'd save a trip."
"Huh. What they did was make people think there was an emergency. I'd bet everybody knows I got this note from N.O.W., too. Right?"
He tapped a cup of coffee as he said, "Yeah, probably. Why would you be getting mail from them?"
"Don't know yet. It may have something to do with some money I gave my sister for the Arlington women's center."
"Maybe that's a real big thank-you note, then. How much did you give her?"
"Three hundred."
He whistled, then said, "Damn! Why so much?"
"That's what she said they needed. I had it and I was going to be over here two weeks later, so why not?"
"Um. Yeah. I see what you mean. Boy, you must have been one popular dude."
Shaking my head, I said, "Nope. They didn't know. Or so I thought. My sister was supposed to donate the money in her name."
He looked at the envelope. "Looks like she ratted on you."
"Seems likely." Another few bites and a sip of coffee later I said, "You're dying to know what's in that envelope, LT. Go ahead and admit it."
Sipping his own coffee, he said, "Yupper. I sure am. I only get mail from two women; my mother and my wife. Here you are getting fat envelopes from a whole damned herd of 'em."
"I doubt each of them signed it personally. As I remember, some of them aren't even all that fond of men."
"Doesn't matter. There have to be at least a few straight ones in that outfit. Aren't you even curious?"
Shrugging, I flicked open my Gerber belt knife and slit the top of the envelope, then handed it to him.
"Go for it, LT."
He took the envelope and pulled what looked like a dozen sheets of paper out of it. A large return envelope had been enclosed and there was a wallet-sized card at the bottom of one sheet with perforations around it.
"Well, I'll be God-damned," he said, holding the card sheet out to me. "Now that's what I call being popular with the ladies, Sarge."
I took the sheet and read it. 'Lifetime Membership'. Dues owed only if I wished to be a voting member of any chapter. Some fees would apply concerning local and national events. Etcetera.
"Still gotta pay to vote on stuff," I said.
Laughing, Hardesty said, "Well, damn, Sarge, you just don't know when or how to be happy, do you?"
He snatched the card from my hand and read aloud with emphasis, "Lifetime Member," then looked at me. "Jesus, Sarge. Look at that. You're in like Flynn and you don't even realize it. And I thought you were one of the smart ones."
"Uh, huh. Right. You think about it some more, LT. I met some of 'em back in Dallas. Trust me; this isn't some kind of dating pass."
"Still..."
Shaking my head, I said, "Nope. If one of 'em likes me, fine, but no way am I going to let myself get the idea that this is some kind of magic ticket to ride. It's just a receipt and a thanks for helping. Try to pull more than that out of it and it would probably be revoked a helluva lot quicker than it was issued."
Hardesty shook his head disbelievingly and stood up. He gave me one of those 'you poor fool' looks and headed back to the coffee urn for a refill, then set the cup down and firmly said, "Stand up, Sergeant."
I stood up. He locked heels and gave me a perfect salute, held it until I returned it, then he walked out of the mess tent.
Jesus. And I'd thought he was one of the smart ones...
It didn't take long for word to spread. Some didn't seem to care, some were awed and wanted to see the card, and some were disgusted, as if I'd somehow committed a traitorous act.
A guy from Alabama named Rockland -- who was already well known for his sentiments concerning blacks -- loudly assumed 'that there must be something real wrong with a man who'd give that much money to a buncha goddamned lesbians.'
He followed up with, "But there must be one or two of 'em that'll fuck a man who gives 'em that much money. 'Zat it, Sarge? You bought some last-minute white-woman boom-boom back in Dallas?"
He got a few hooting laughs with that.
I sighed. "Rockland, every time you open your mouth you prove yet again that your real parents were brother and sister."
More hooting laughs. When Rockland swung at me I put him down hard and kept him there with a wrist grip. With a bit more pressure and some Army-boot encouragement to his ribs, he rather insincerely apologized.
As I left, his sullen, hate-filled glare told me he'd be further trouble, so when I took the previous day's med resupply forms to the CO's office I recommended Rockland's transfer to Delta company.
"Reason?" asked Hardesty.
"He's an ignorant, troublemaking, hillbilly asshole, LT."
With an understanding, sympathetic grin, Hardesty said, "Ah. Yes, I see. But the Army may require other, somewhat more well-defined reasons for a personnel exchange."
I told him what had happened, then said, "He's the kind of corn-pone KKK redneck who'll be looking for ways to get me, LT. He'll try to let me find a wire or accidentally put a round in my back."
Sitting back in his chair, Hardesty regarded me for a moment, then asked, "You don't think you may be overreacting a bit?"
"Can you remember even one time when I've overreacted about anything?"
"Um. Well, no, but still..."
"LT, the black guys already know what he is, but his beef with them isn't quite as personal an issue. He embarrassed himself in front of his buddies today when he spouted some shit over that N.O.W. letter. Ask around. See what you think. I'll go with that and just stay real alert for a while."
He tapped his pencil on his cup and said, "Okay. If I can justify it well enough on paper and get a replacement, we'll swap him out. That's the best I can do for now."
As I left the office I saw Rockland and Saunders leaning on the sandbag wall on each side of the doorway to my bunker. Rockland looked directly at me and grinned meaningfully as he pretended to back-toss something into the bunker, then he and Saunders headed for the mess tent.
They'd silently told me that a grenade might find its way into my bunker some night. That afternoon I dug a two-foot deep hole in a corner of my bunker and used some of the red clay dirt to fill sandbags, which I placed between the hole and my bunk. I then headed for Rockland's bunker.
Saunders and a couple of privates were loafing in the shade of a fly-tarp.
"What's up, Sarge?" asked Saunders, rocking his chair back.
"Where's Rockland?" I asked.
He grinned widely and said, "What'samatter? You worried about sumpin'? If'n you ain't, you damn-sure oughta be."
"Uh, huh." I picked up one of their sandbags and tossed it at him like a basketball.
Saunders wasn't ready when the sandbag slammed into his chest, knocked him out of his chair, and put him flat on his back, gasping for air. The other two guys stood up, but stayed where they were. I walked over and put a boot on Saunders' chest.
"Tell Rockland that if he's stupid enough to try something, I'll be ready. And tell him that if he does try anything, he'd better not miss."
As I neared my bunker, a black guy named Bennet was standing by the mess tent. He gave me a small nod and put an index finger to his face near his right eye, indicating watchfulness. I nodded in return and smiled slightly.
The blacks disliked Rockland for all the usual reasons that blacks dislike Klansmen. If Rockland or his guys were spotted tampering with my bunker, I'd likely hear about it.
The matter kind of settled itself a few nights later. We'd split into five units of three men each and dug in along a slope to watch for anticipated VC activity along the trails leading west out of the village.
The sliver of moon that appeared in the sky an hour or so after we'd settled in barely illuminated the trail below. Rockland and his Klannish psycho-phants were two holes away from the one I occupied with Rinker and Osmund.
I was the senior NCO of the group, so it was up to me to make sure everyone was in place and to assign pickets to check on them during the night.
There'd been no VC activity by three in the morning. Rinker woke me a few minutes early for my watch and I swilled some of my canteen coffee before I set out to check the line.
As I approached Rockland's position, I stepped behind a tree and whispered, "Coming in," but didn't receive a number to verify. All three auras ahead were bright and active. One or two of them should have been perhaps half as bright while those not on watch caught some sleep.
"Coming in," I repeated.
All of the auras seemed to extend flashing tendrils as those in the hole tossed grenades my direction. One bounced off my tree and the other two flew past me into the bush. I got flat behind my tree and waited, my hands over my ears.
When the grenades had gone off, one of the guys whispered, "Think we got him?"
"Just sit tight," said Rockland. "If'n we did it was an accident and if'n we didn't it was the kind of fuckup that happens all the time. Too bad, so sad."
I quietly eased the handle off one of my own grenades and cooked it for three Mississippis, then tossed it directly into their hole and ducked back behind my tree.
Someone yelled "Holy shit!" and someone else shrieked "Oh, God!" just before the grenade exploded.
A few seconds later, one aura was fading fast. The other two reflected serious injuries. I fired my rifle into the bush.
"He's heading west!" I yelled, "West!" then I threw a softball-sized rock that direction. When it crashed to the ground through the brush, the guys nearest the spot opened fire at the sound and tossed a few grenades.
As I waited for the firing to die down over there, I checked out Rockland's group. Their auras indicated that one was still alive, if only barely. A bit closer to the hole, I could see that it was Rockland, and his aura was fading slowly. He looked up at me and muttered something in an unkind tone of voice.
I took the liner out of a helmet and held his spurting arm over the helmet shell. He watched in stunned wonder as his blood pooled and swirled in the faint moonlight. When maybe a pint had collected, I watched his eyes bug out slightly further as I raised the helmet to sip.
To cover my unauthorized use of the helmet shell, I arranged the shell and liner on the ground so that his drippings could ooze into both. When Rockland's aura had faded to nothing, I replaced my thrown grenade with one of his and went to see how things were going in the next hole over.
"Coming in," I whispered as I approached.
A shaky "Eleven" came back. It sounded like Rogers.
"Nine," I said, and approached them.
"I need a volunteer to go cover Rockland's position," I said, then I picked Heckler and said, "You'll do. Move out. I'll be there after I finish checking the line."
In a somewhat high-pitched voice, he asked, "B-by myself?!"
"Don't worry, Heckler. The Cong hit and run and it'll be daylight soon. Get going."
"But if it's all over, why do I gotta go down there?"
I sighed. "Because there's supposed to be somebody alive in every position, dammit, and we're a little shorthanded right now. Haul your ass over there before somebody here gets the idea you're scared."
"Goddammit, I AM fucking scared, Sarge!"
"Well, that'll make you cautious, won't it? What's the number?"
"What? Uh, twenty."
"See? You're doing fine. Now go before I kick your un-heroic ass down this goddamn hill."
He finally set out to find Rockland's position and I headed up the line to check the others and have Nealy call in a sitrep, then we settled in to wait for dawn and replacements from 3rd platoon.
After a shower and breakfast I went to the CO's office to write up the incident. Heckler and Rogers were there, yakking rather animatedly. I let them tell the story, signed the report, and headed for my bunk and my book.
On the way I stopped at the mess tent for a coffee refill. One of two black guys at a table studied me for a few moments as I filled my cup, then he nodded slightly as if agreeing with me about something. The guy sitting next to him raised an eyebrow at me, then glanced around as if concerned about being noticed and went back to his food.
Oh, well. It was just their suspicion, and they were welcome to it. If nothing else, it might mean that I'd be one of the whites they didn't automatically dislike and distrust. There was enough racial shit going on around the bases already.
Looking around as I left the mess tent, I was suddenly struck by the proof of those thoughts. Whites, blacks, and browns clustered in little groups, for the most part only mingling when necessary.
The politics of the Stateside world. Not good. Not here. I began thinking about how to shift some sleeping and working arrangements around to break up those color-clusters.
Chapter Four
The end of April was two days away when Delta company was hit hard during the beginning of a sweep and ran short of med supplies. Hardesty told me to throw together whatever we could spare, then told commo to call brigade and have a chopper drop by in half an hour.
I detailed four guys to pack and haul stuff out to the pad while I pulled field supplies from the dispensary shelves.
As we worked, Hardesty came in to help pack the stuff and said, "You aren't going with them, Sarge. We'll be out there with Delta tomorrow, so you're making our supply run two days early. Another bird'll be here at ten. As soon as we're done here, spiff up a bit and drop by the office."
"You got it, LT, but who do I see about a ride back? Taylor's birds are all in the air for the sweep."
"Got it covered. Two of Grayson's birds are on standby. After picking you up here and taking you to Dong Tam, he'll log an engine problem. It'll be fixed just in time to get you back here before dark."
Brigade's gunship landed and we piled the supplies aboard, then it lifted and hauled ass toward the action. After cleaning up and changing into clean fatigues, I went to the CO's office to call Anna Corinth's office and tell her that I'd be there in an hour or so. She was out with Hartley on another ward, so I left the message with Sgt. Carter.
Privacy was an illusion with thin plywood walls. Captain Drake came in as I hung up the phone and looked at me oddly as he reclaimed his desk.
"You're something of an enigma, Sarge. Do you know what that is?"
"Yup. Sure do, Cap. How did I make 'enigma'? I thought enlisted personnel were only allowed to become 'anomalies'."
"Very funny. No reason in particular, but a lot of them when they're added up. You get calls from certain female officers, for instance, and you feel obliged to let them know when you're going to be in their neighborhood."
He paused and added, "And there's something else, Sarge. Williams said he was sure he saw a VC gunner tag you during a sweep two months ago. He said you didn't move at all while Charlie worked the crossfire, but that you weren't there when they finally cleared the zone. A little later you showed up as if nothing had happened."
"Everybody saw the hole in my canteen, Cap. 7.62 rounds hit pretty hard and I fell on some rocks. I was out cold for a while."
Truth. 7.62 rounds do hit hard and I had been unconscious for a time on rocky ground. But my own rifle had made that hole as a way to excuse having been knocked to the ground by enemy fire.
"I saw you when you came in that day," said Drake. "The nametag on your shirt read 'Miller'. You weren't hit, so why was there blood on the collar and back?"
I shrugged. "I needed a new shirt, Cap. Miller was dead, so I took it off him before he left. The blood must have been from one of the guys we loaded on the evac birds."
Truth again. Sgt. Miller had taken a fatal head wound at the same time I'd been shot in the chest. My own nametag-less shirt had been in pieces when I'd thrown it aboard a medevac bird.
"What happened to your shirt?"
"It got torn up pretty badly."
Another truth. I'd ripped it apart and tossed it aboard the chopper when I'd helped load Miller. Drake steepled his fingers and gave me a studious look.
"Back in the States," he said, "I once worked in a bar. I was in the bathroom when a robbery happened. I heard a shot and started to zip up and run out there, then thought better of it. When nothing else happened for a minute or so, I peeked out. The robber was on the floor and Floyd was on the phone. Floyd was the bar owner. Something didn't seem quite right, but I couldn't figure out what, but it came to me while I was talking to the cops about what I'd heard. Floyd was wearing a white shirt. He'd been wearing a blue shirt with the bar's name on it when I arrived at work."
I gave him a fisheye look. "Maybe you just thought he'd been wearing a blue shirt?"
"I was there over half an hour working on liquor orders before the robbery. He was wearing a blue shirt. Why did he change shirts?"
Shaking my head, I said, "No idea. Maybe he spilled something."
"Maybe. Floyd used to change before he went home," said Drake. "He said he liked to leave everything about work at work and his girlfriend didn't like the smell of booze and smoke on his clothes."
Shrugging, I said, "Well, there you have it."
"No. He still had four hours to pull. I couldn't find the old shirt anywhere. It wasn't in the laundry or the trash."
With a chuckle I asked, "You checked the trash, Cap?"
Drake stood up and said, "Yeah. I looked everywhere for that damned shirt. Never found it. Want to know what I did find, though?"
As he moved around his desk he answered his question before I could with, "I noticed a bottle of Jim Beam sitting right next to the register. It belonged on the shelf under the mirror, with the other booze. I just figured Floyd had needed a drink after what happened, but when I picked it up to take it back to the shelf, I saw a hole in the wall behind it. A bullet hole."
Shrugging again, I said, "Must have been a near miss, Cap. Maybe Floyd didn't want to see that hole every time he rang up a sale."
"Yeah. That's kind of what I thought, too. But it's always bugged me that I never did find that shirt."
The sound of a helicopter approaching the camp intruded.
"Guess I'd better get out there," I said. "That sounds like my ride."
He nodded. "Yeah. Later, Sarge."
As I headed for the door he added, "Oh, wait one," and came to hand me two twenties and a note. "I was going to have you stop by the PX on your regular run, but now's just as good."
I nodded and pocketed the note and money, then headed out into the scalding sunlight as the chopper landed.
Had Drake just become a problem? Should I mention his questions and his bar story to Corinth and Hartley? As I climbed aboard the gunship, I decided to say nothing for the moment and see if he'd want to discuss matters further.
Drake hadn't voiced any speculations about me, after all. And even if he did speculate, he'd seen me out in the noonday sun, so the speculations probably wouldn't involve vampires.
Oh, well. As always; stay alert, but don't get paranoid.
By eleven we'd landed and I stood in blessed air conditioning as I used the phone at the Emergency room front desk to call Anna Corinth. Sgt. Carter answered and put me through to her.
"Hi. Got your message," she said. "What's up?"
"Just a supply run two days early. If I were to drop my list at supply and let them do all the picking and packing, we could go to lunch. I have to catch a ride back at around five, so I'd hate to waste any time by not being with you as much as possible, Major, ma'am."
She laughed. "Flattery will get you nothing while I'm on duty, young sergeant. Tell you what, though; Hartley will be back in about half an hour. We'll bring some paperwork to make the visit look official."
"Sounds fine, milady. I'll get things in gear."
After talking with the LT in supply and telling him I had an appointment with a major in ward seven, he thought a moment and almost warily asked, "Uh, you mean Major Corinth?"
I nodded. "Yeah, LT. That's the one. What's she like?"
"I'll tell you what," he said, waving a couple of guys over to us, "You just say a prayer before you go there, then pretend you're talking to a two-star general."
"She's a mean one, huh?"
"Well, not mean, really. Just..." Possibly concerned that his words might get back to Corinth, he shook his head and said, "Just be careful, that's all."
He then told his guys to fill my list and stack it on push carts. I told him I'd be back before closing time, thanked him, and left. As I entered ward seven, Sgt. Carter looked up and waved me toward Corinth's office.
I knocked and received a "Come in."
Marian Hartley sat in the sofa chair beside Corinth's desk. Anna Corinth had her feet up as she leaned back in her chair. She waved me into the office and I perched on the arm of the chair as I simply looked at the two of them for a moment.
"Wow," I said. "You ladies have no idea how good you look."
"Oh, sure we do," said Hartley. "We hear it all the time from guys like you."
"Um. Guess you do, at that. Doesn't make it less true, though."
Anna put her feet down and said, "No, it certainly doesn't. We're absolutely gorgeous. Now let's go see about lunch."
She stood up and came around her desk as Hartley got to her feet. Yup. Both of them were gorgeous, and it wasn't just because I'd been in the bush for a while.
Hartley snickered as my eyes traveled Anna's figure, then hers, and she said, "I like this guy. He never lets us feel unappreciated."
I met her gaze and said, "You both look good enough to eat. I'm only sorry that this visit isn't strictly a social call."
"Speaking of visits," said Anna, "I hear your unit's going back out tomorrow. I'll need to know where to look for you if I decide to drop by."
"We're going on a sweep in the valley six miles west. If nothing is going on I could find a way to get myself lost in the dark for a while."
"We'll see," she said with a grin. "If I show up you'll know what I decided."
Hartley rolled her eyes and sighed as she shook her head. Anna gave her a mock glare and rather haughtily picked up her purse as she led the way to the door. I opened it and ushered them out of the office with a flourish.
Sgt. Carter stood in the hallway with an amused expression on her face as she watched us exit the office. I gave her a quick shrug and a grin as I closed the door and went to catch up with Corinth and Hartley.
After lunch we visited over coffee for a bit, then went to the PX. At one point during our shopping, I overheard Hartley explaining me to a woman captain as a friend from Texas. The captain nodded slightly before leaving.
"Prissy bitch," muttered Marian. "Good thing slavery is illegal. She'd probably have a dozen of them."
To avoid more such encounters we headed back to Anna's office and spent the afternoon discussing the world and the war. A little after four I most regretfully excused myself to go find Captain Grayson and load up the supplies.
"You know," I said to Anna and Marian at the door, "Even though we have something rather special in common, I want you to know that I really appreciate the time you've spent with me today. Just sitting around talking with the two of you has made me feel as if I've had a few days off."
Anna grinned and said, "Same here."
Marian looked as if she'd burst into tears as she leaned to kiss me.
"That was such a sweet thing to say," she said.
"It's the truth," I said, "I've never had better company in my life."
"Well," said a grinning Anna. "Since you're only nineteen, that isn't saying much. Now go before I get all bleary-eyed, too."
'Uh-huh,' I thought, 'Sure. I'd sell tickets to that.'
"Yas'm," I said. "Going now. Thanks again."
"I'll try to get out there tonight," she added.
"Yes, please," I said, kissing her, then opening the door. "Do give it your best shot, Major, ma'am."
Carter sneaked a grin at me as I passed her desk. She thought I was an old boyfriend of Hartley's who hadn't been fortunate enough to become an officer, so she also thought we were getting away with bending -- or even breaking -- a few rules by our officer-enlisted friendships.
Three supply guys and I wheeled the pushcarts to Grayson's ship and loaded the supplies aboard, then Grayson got us underway. At the base I first gave Captain Drake his stuff from the PX, then went to help offload the chopper so as not to give him an opportunity to reopen our previous conversation.
The tactic might have worked if he hadn't been such a 'man of the people'. He set his stuff down and followed me out to carry boxes with us, then stayed to talk while I shelved the supplies.
"Been thinking," he said.
I almost replied, "Well, that's your job, isn't it?" but managed to contain myself and instead -- while expecting more dialogue about why I was an 'enigma' -- asked, "About anything in particular, Cap?"
"Oh, yeah," said Drake, then he surprised me with, "About your idea to cross train some extra medics within the unit. How long would it take, really? No bull."
"Hard to say. About a month of part-timing the classes, at least. For every dozen volunteers we'll wind up with maybe three real trainees after people find out the classes won't be bullshit sessions."
"You're really up to teaching what you know?"
"Sure. No problem if we can get some books and props."
"We'll get them. Have you heard about Delta?"
"No, but we already knew they were having a bad time of it today."
"That doesn't describe it. They took one third casualties, Sarge. No shit. A full third, and some likely died because they couldn't get the birds in there in time. Borman needed twice as many medics today."
I stopped shelving things and turned to look at him.
"Cap, having extra medics trained and ready is only half of it. Brigade isn't going to issue medikits for guys who don't have the right MOS on file, and there's almost nothing as frustrating as knowing that you could do something if you had the gear to do it. Without equipment, I'm not so sure medic training would be all that good for morale if we get caught in something like Delta did today."
He shook his head and headed for the door, where he stopped and said, "If you can graduate some extra medics, I'll get the gear. When it gets here, just be happy and don't ask any questions."
Nodding, I said, "Yupper. You got it, Cap. Happy and no questions. I'll put the word out for volunteers and we'll get things underway."
With a nod of his own, he pulled the door shut behind him as he left. I finished putting things away and locked up, then cleaned up a bit and headed for my bunker to read as I waited for darkness and Anna's visit.
Nearly an hour after dark, the familiar presence of Spec.4 Morris Tilman approached my bunker.
Without putting my book down, I said, "Come on in, Tilman."
As he entered, he looked back at the doorway in a puzzled manner and asked, "How..? Uh, how'd you know it was me?"
"Just did," I said, putting the open book face down, "Have a seat on Drevin's bunk, there. He's on emergency leave, so he can't bitch about it. What's on your mind?"
Of course, that had to be the moment that I first felt Anna Corinth's presence approaching. Oh, hell, yes; make a plan to have a little fun and something's bound to come up to screw things up. But I'd already invited him in. Damn. Tilman was a machine gunner. Maybe it was just something about his gear?
After hesitating a moment, Tilman walked over to the bunk, but didn't immediately sit. Anna's presence loomed ever stronger outside and I heard the faintest of sounds as she touched down on the bunker roof.
Tilman sat down and wrung his hands for a moment, then hesitantly said, "I, uh... Well, I've been thinking about tomorrow."
"You and everybody else. Do you want advice, platitudes, or plain old bullshit?"
"Huh? Uh... What's a plat... uh, platitude?"
"That's what they call prepackaged, 'one-size-fits-all' bullshit in a military, political, philosophical, or religious wrapper."
He frowned momentarily, then blurted, "You really just want me to get lost, don't you?"
Shaking my head, I said, "No, Tilman. I'll come right out and tell you when I want you to get lost. What I'm saying is that if you're here about being worried about tomorrow, I probably won't be able to say much that'll make you feel better or stop worrying. That's the chaplain's job, anyway."
"Oh." He fussed with his hands and stared at the floor as he said, "Yeah, well, that is kind of why I'm here. Delta got hit bad today, and nobody's talking like anything really got done out there. Tomorrow we're gonna catch the same shit they did."
I shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe not. We do things a little differently, too. The odds could be a lot worse, Tilman."
His head came up and he muttered, "Yeah, I know. Look what happened to the 173rd, too. Half of them dead in a week taking a goddamned hill. That could happen to us."
"Not while Drake's in charge, and not unless Charlie can move a helluva big bunch of replacement troops in overnight. Delta hit the VC just as hard, man, and they called four air strikes. Charlie suffered big time today. We'll be fighting what's left of 'em tomorrow and we'll probably lose more guys to traps and stupidity than enemy fire, so just watch where you put your feet and stay alert."
After a moment he said, "You don't seem real worried about tomorrow. You're gonna be out there, too, right?"
"Yup. I'll be out there with 2nd. Hey, remember Hollister?"
"Huh? Oh. Yeah. He DROS'd back in December. Got home in time for Christmas."
Shaking my head, I said, "Nope. He missed Christmas by a week. Taylor said that Hollister's sister told him in a letter that Hollister went to a party on the 17th. He was killed on the way home."
Tilman stared at me for a moment, then got rather irritated.
"Why the hell are you telling me about Hollister?"
Shrugging, I said, "Think about it. He made it through two tours over here without much more than a bad sunburn and he was in some of the worst of last year's fighting. Then he gets home, buys the car he's always dreamed about, gets blitzed at a party, and rolls his shiny new car into a damned ditch three blocks from his house."
If anything, more upset than before, Tilman sat glaring at me. When he opened his mouth to speak, I held up a hand.
"What I'm saying is that you die when it's your time to die, Tilman. Maybe Hollister helped make his time happen sooner, but what do you think? Would he have rolled his car if he hadn't been shitfaced drunk?"
Tilman's face settled somewhat and he asked, "That's how you see it? You don't die until it's your time to die?"
"Sure. Whether it's some kind of fate thing or self-inflicted stupidity doesn't matter a fat, flying damn; you die either way. Tilman, you didn't wait to be drafted. You joined the Army instead of the Navy or the Air Force. You didn't try for some gravy job; you let yourself come in as a grunt. You asked for a machine gun instead of a rifle -- more firepower, but a fixed position. What I'm saying is; you've made a series of decisions or non-decisions that have carried you to this point, and short of shooting yourself in the foot, you're going out there tomorrow. That really only leaves one thing more to say, doesn't it?"
When he simply looked at me in silence for some moments, I said quietly, "Like I said, I'm not the chaplain. I don't pray to anything and don't think it helps much in a firefight. I'm about to toss you out of here, so... If you were me, Tilman, what would be the best -- really, the only practical -- advice you could offer?"
He stood up and sighed, "Yeah, I hear you," then he mimicked an instructor with, "Rely on your training. Stay down. Don't panic. All that stuff."
"You got it. All that stuff. Just keep your head down and do your best, and when you get back to the world, don't get blind, stupid drunk and roll your car into a ditch."
With another sigh, he jammed his hands into his pockets and clenched them into fists, then nodded. As he turned to head for the door he said, "Yeah. See you tomorrow, Sarge."
Chapter Five
As soon as Tilman was halfway to his own bunker, I went into ghost mode and stepped out of my bunker, then lifted and settled on the roof next to the whitish-gold aura that was Anna.
She softly said, "Hi, GI. Me Saigon Sally. You wanna date?"
"Well, gosh, lady, I've been kind of saving myself for marriage. But feel free to take that as a challenge."
"Oh, I will. I heard what you told him, and you were right about one thing."
"Well, damn; only one? Which was..?"
Laughing softly, she said, "You won't be stealing many of the chaplain's customers with stuff like that. Ready to go?"
"Definitely ready, milady."
Anna lifted westward and I caught up with her above the dirt road that led down from our hilltop resort. We talked as we drifted.
"I feel kind of sorry for that guy," said Anna. "Don't you?"
"No, not really. He's just scared. The guys to feel sorry for are the ones we'll bag up tomorrow."
There was a pause, then she said, "We could spend some time tonight preventing some of those casualties."
I cleared my throat and asked, "Excuse me, Major Corinth, ma'am, but do you mean as opposed to making love in the woods or after making love in the woods? I was really looking forward to your visit, you know, and..."
"Yes, after, oh selfish one," she said in an exasperated tone. "Why the hell do you think I flew all the way out here?"
Letting Anna hear my exaggerated sigh of relief made her laugh softly and say, "It's so nice to feel appreciated."
"Oh, you are, milady. Most definitely. Very much so." I let my voice turn wistful then sighed again as I added, "But I've always figured you were really only using me, you know. To avoid complications at the office and all. Just coming wwaayy out here to see me so that there'd be no chance of discovery or..."
Laughing again, she said, "Oh, shut up, you putz. I came out here to see you and get laid and the why of it is my business. Hey, look down there to the left. Let's hunt now and talk later."
Anna's double-edged Parker boot knife sang briefly as she unsheathed it and dove rapidly toward three auras moving through the bush. Her alacrity surprised the hell out of me, but then I realized that I was probably being more than a little naive about her.
As I followed her down she dropped to the ground directly in front of the rearmost aura, seemed to hesitate there, then moved to the next one. Before I'd landed, she'd flitted to the third one.
The first two auras were no longer upright and were fading fast, indicating that both men were dead or dying. As I landed I saw her move quickly in front of the last guy and sink her dagger into his chest.
In total surprise and shock at the invisible assault, he stood absolutely still for a second, then looked down at the dagger that had seemingly materialized in his chest.
Turning off her ghost mode, Anna said, "Drinks are on me tonight," and quickly reached with both hands to twist the VC's head and break his neck to end his suffering.
He instantly collapsed to his knees, unable to fall flat because Anna was holding him upright by his hair. She wiped her knife clean on his shirt and sheathed it in a thoroughly matter-of-fact manner, snapped open a collapsable cup like Marian's with a flick of her wrist, and then held it to fill from his wound.
In something of a mild daze of startlement at her efficiency, I pulled out my canteen and cup and separated them as I stared at her. She wore blue jeans and a long-sleeved dark blouse, cowboy boots, and no jewelry at all that I could see.
When she lifted her cup to sip I held my own to fill. The VC's left arm spasmed slightly, then fell limp to his side, then his eyes finally seemed to let go of life and what was left of his aura faded quickly.
I almost felt sorry for him, but looking around at their weapons and the parts of traps they'd intended to place made it difficult to care too much.
Anna tilted him forward to top up her now half-full cup when I took mine away, then she released the guy's hair to let him topple forward. We drank in silence for some moments, her eyes seemingly boring into mine in the dim moonlight.
"I felt your surprise," she said. "What was that about?"
"You. I guess I never expected you could be so amazingly efficient at killing people. Naive, huh?"
Nodding, she said, "Very naive. I've had a lot of practice over the last two hundred years, and if you saw what I see every damned day in the wards, in the emergency room, in the morgue... They're just teenagers, really, and they're being maimed and killed by people like him."
Moving to lean on a tree, Anna raised her cup slightly and said, "Besides, blood is much better fresh, with a touch of adrenalin. After it's been in a fridge for a few days, it's all I can do to choke it down unless I put off feeding to stir up my virus."
"In fact," she said after sipping, "I was going to suggest that you feed heavily tonight. You may need all the energy you can get tomorrow. For most of my life, standard-issue weapons were a lot less powerful. Nowadays rifle bullets blow big chunks out of people. Just a couple of hits would need a lot of healing."
"I know," I said, putting a finger to my chest.
Her eyes met mine in the dim moonlight.
"Tell me about it," she said.
Nodding, I said, "One round, smack in the chest. I was out cold for about fifteen minutes and it took another ten to get functional again, then another whole day for the holes to fill in front and back."
Peering at me sharply, she asked, "You managed to cover the event?"
"I borrowed a shirt from someone who didn't need it anymore and shot a hole in my canteen to explain having been knocked flat by a bullet."
Sipping from her cup, she sighed as she rubbed her throat and muttered, "Mmm... This stuff's kicking in fast tonight."
Without warning, she ghosted and lifted. I ghosted and followed her until I caught up, then -- again without notice -- Anna began descending toward the stream that ran through the valley.
She landed, unghosted and stretched like a great cat, then rinsed her cup in the stream and stuffed it into a jeans pocket. As she took off her pistol belt and unbuttoned her blouse, I tossed down the last of the VC's 'donation' and rinsed my cup in the stream.
Stepping out of her jeans, Anna said, "I've decided we'll play first, then work."
Sitting on a log to unlace my boots, I said, "Good plan, ma'am. Good plan."
"Glad you approve. Why are you still dressed?"
"My boots don't just slip off the way yours do, y'know. You're just gonna pounce on me, aren't you? No romance at all?"
Hands on hips, she asked, "Awww, is that a problem for you? Will you feel deprived in some way?"
"Well, maybe not this one time, I guess. I just wondered, that's all."
Anna's soft laughter preceded her mimicking of my 'Not this one time.'
"Tonight," she said, "I'm going to use you. I hope you don't mind too much, of course, but it won't bother me even one little bit if you do. Now hurry up with those damned boots, Sergeant."
Once I had my boots and pants off she stepped forward and put her arms around my neck to draw me into a deep kiss, then hooked her heel behind my legs and shoved me. I fell backwards and Anna was on me in a heartbeat, laughing softly as she kissed me again and settled herself into place.
"You know, lady," I said, "You're kinda cute, in a pushy sort of way. Chances are I might even have cooperated willingly."
Laughing again, she said, "Sometimes I prefer to take what I want."
Indeed. Obviously. Anna seemed to know exactly how to go about what she was trying to accomplish, so I simply stayed out of her way -- so to speak -- and contented myself with being used.
Except for a kiss now and then and trailing her fingertips over my chest and legs, her involvement with her own needs seemed almost to exclude all but a single part of me. My efforts to entertain myself by stroking her thighs and kissing her arms when they neared my face caused Anna to smile, but they didn't appear to make much difference to her progress.
She took her time about it, too, and I caught her glancing down at me through slitted eyes more than once. Did she think she was tantalizing me? If so, no go; I was perfectly happy to be right where I was. Maybe she thought I was trying to hold myself back? If so; again no. I seemed to be nowhere close, and that, too, was fine with me.
When Anna froze and stiffened, staring into the night, I was surprised enough that I first thought she'd seen something out there. Nope. After a moment her eyes closed, her teeth ground slightly, and she began seeking her reward in earnest.
A low, contralto keening came from deep within her and continued for some moments, then she panted gaspingly hard once and bit her lip. A few moments later she gasped loudly and leaned to kiss me hard as she released a long groan.
Something within me realized it was time and filled Anna as she groaned again, then she let herself go limp on my chest and simply breathed hard for a while. When she finally disengaged and rolled off me, she guided her roll to end in the stream and moved to lie spread-eagled as the water rushed over and around her.
My first inclination was to mention leeches, of course, but then I remembered that our virus treats parasites about the same as it treats diseases. I'd seen leeches recoil off my legs and curl up as they'd fallen to the ground.
Mosquitoes, too. They'd start to tank up, then freeze up and fall off. After all the bites I'd scratched before becoming a vampire, it was entertaining to watch them.
After we'd cooled down and cleaned up, we got dressed and discussed how best to make ourselves useful in the few hours before Anna would have to leave.
She asked, "How about we just find their camps and leave as many as possible dead in their bunks? That ought to shake them up in the morning."
"Well, first off, milady, most of them won't have bunks." Anna rolled her eyes as I continued, "Secondly, if we really want to shake them up, we'll wake them up and make 'em afraid to go back to sleep. The survivors will be dead tired and scared shitless in the morning."
"We really need survivors?"
"A few. Someone to tell the tale, y'know. Besides, where's the sport in zapping them in their sleep?"
"To hell with sport." She shrugged and said, "Yeah. Okay."
We ghosted, lifted, and looked for VC. Where we found only one or two in an ambush position, we simply knifed them and moved on. There seemed to be no particular pattern to their dispersal around the valley and plain; we split up and had to do quite a bit of flitting from place to place until we spotted a group of perhaps seventy VC encamped in and around an area thick with trees.
I hovered well above the camp and waited until Anna joined me there. Her eyes were shining so that I could actually see them against the background of her aura.
"How'd you do on the way here?" she asked excitedly. "I got seventeen."
"We're keeping score?" I had no idea how many VC I'd snuffed, but her number sounded about right, so I said, "About the same, so far, I think. They were about evenly dispersed along both sides of the valley."
Drifting through the camp, we found several officers asleep on rice mats near the center of things. It was a good place to start. I bayoneted one of the sentries and used his rifle to spray the officers, then dropped it and moved to intercept one of the VC who was coming to investigate.
Anna flashed past us and quickly stung two other approaching VC with her dagger, then zipped to the left and disappeared around a tent. Now and then I saw her aura flicker among the trees as we worked to thin the number of VC who'd greet the dawn. When all but a very few were dead or dying I called to Anna from perhaps a hundred yards above the camp.
She slugged the guy she'd been holding by the throat and brought him along as she rose to join me. As she neared, the guy seemed to rouse a bit and realize that he was a considerable distance off the ground. He began to struggle weakly and Anna slugged him again. He went limp in her grasp.
"Why are you stopping?" she asked. "There are still half a dozen."
"Gotta leave a few to talk about it, remember?"
"Uh, huh," she said dismissively. "Okay. Let's find a tree."
After we tanked up from the VC, I lifted with him and dropped him smack on top of some guy who seemed to be trying to take command of matters down there. A body falling out of the darkness above made the others scatter again.
Across the valley we found another good-sized group and began much as we had before, shooting a few to wake them up and knifing most of our other victims wherever we encountered them. At one sentry hole I found six grenades and added them to the evening's effort by tossing them around the camp in whatever directions were farthest from Anna and me.
When only half a dozen or so auras were still up and moving around, I again called a halt for an overhead rendezvous. Anna's aura closed with another two VC auras before she stopped moving for a moment, then she rose to join me, again bringing the last guy with her.
"Next time you bring the snack," she said. "I don't think you realize how much energy we expend, or you'd have one up here already."
"I feel fine, Anna."
"Uh, huh. You listen up, newbie. You're to feed whenever you can and try to keep your virus charged up at all times. You'll never know when you'll need it."
"Oh, yes, ma'am, ma'am. By your command, milady."
"I'm not kidding, damn it. You're still new, so pay attention. The virus won't yell until it gets hungry, and you may not be where you can do anything about it when it does, so try to stay well-fed at all times."
When I chuckled, she gave me an irritated fisheye look.
"Sorry," I said. "It's just that what you said sounded like what I told Collier about staying hydrated. It was about the same tone of voice, too."
We draped the VC over a tree limb and un-ghosted ourselves, filled our cups, and then sat back to watch the activity below. All of the VC we'd encountered personally were dead. Some of those who'd only been near grenade blasts seemed to be coping after a fashion, but very few of them were up and moving around. After almost ten minutes I'd spotted only three fully-unscathed auras.
"Nailed 'em good, didn't we?" asked Anna in a quiet tone.
"Oh, yeah. They'll think ten recondo teams came through. I'm just wondering which brasshole's gonna try to grab the credit when news comes in about it." Grinning at Anna, I added, "No offense meant, of course, Major Corinth, milady."
She laughed softly and studied the scene below some more as she sipped. The survivors gathered together below to discuss something and I handed Anna my cup as I grabbed the dead VC's wrist and hauled him into the air.
Directly above the VC group, I let him drop. He took two of them down when he landed and one of them didn't get up again. I flitted back to the tree and reclaimed my cup, realizing as I did so that a full third of my drink was gone.
Anna gave me as innocent a look as she could manage, then grinned and shrugged as she said, "Sorry. Couldn't help it."
"That's the last time I'll let you hold the drinks, lady."
"I said I was sorry."
"Yeah, but you didn't say you wouldn't do it again."
Anna snickered. "No, I didn't, did I? It's almost two-thirty and I'll need a few hours of sleep before I have to turn into a major again."
"That's some kind of a hint, right? Can we stop at the stream on the way back?"
Laughing again, she said, "Yeah, that's some kind of a hint, and no, we won't stop at the stream. It's a long haul back to Dong Tam."
I sighed in an appropriately disappointed manner.
Anna leaned to kiss me and said, "You're sweet. Maybe next time there won't be so much other stuff to do."
She used my canteen water to rinse her cup, then put it away and stood up on our tree branch. I rinsed my own cup and put it back in my canteen pouch, then stood up, as well. Anna wrapped her arms around me and kissed me, then we ghosted and lifted to head back to the base.
About a mile out, she groped for my hand. We pulled each other close in our invisibility and managed a flying kiss before she headed off alone. I settled to the roof of my bunker with the 'felt' knowledge that someone was inside it and stood quietly to listen for a few moments.
The presence in my bunker didn't seem to move at all and didn't make any sound other than breathing. Flitting over to the mess tent, I landed behind it and unghosted, walked around to the side flap, then went in and got a cup of coffee. The private on watch nodded, but didn't say anything to me.
I crossed the compound to drop in at the commo bunker in order to be seen in camp, glancing toward my own bunker as I walked. It was too dark to see who was in there, but his aura was sitting upright on Drevin's bunk. Maybe Tilman again?
"Just another night with a good book?" I asked the corporal at the radio.
"Nope. Something's been going on out there, Sarge. Damned if I can tell what, though. There was some really apeshit chatter for a while, then some guy slammed the lid on it and there's been nothing for the last ten minutes or so."
"Huh. Well, here's a coffee. I'm about to try to get some sleep."
As I left, he said, "Thanks. I could use some coffee about now."
When I entered my bunker, whoever had been there was gone. I flicked on a flashlight and quickly looked around for tamperings, then looked to see if I was missing my extra boots or anything else, then flicked off the flashlight and got flat on my bunk.
Even though I was wondering about who might have been sitting in my bunker and why, sleep came fairly quickly.
Chapter Six
They loaded us into helicopters to fly us out to join Delta company's sweep at about six-thirty in the morning. As we settled to earth we discovered that whatever Delta had stumbled into hadn't even thought about going away, despite the carnage of the day before.
We took a flurry of hits on the way in and I wound up treating wounded before we touched down. Our door gunner seemed to have caught some of those hits; he was hanging away from the gun on his straps, one of which had been holed by a round. His aura faded quickly and I concerned myself with the living aboard the chopper.
The other guys unassed the bird into deep grass and we lifted back into the sky. Samar had died almost instantly when two rounds had found his chest and Bream seemed to have his leg wound well enough under control, so I started to work on Mansen.
Bream pointed at my leg and yelled, "I think you're hit, Sarge!"
I looked where he was pointing and found that I had, indeed, been hit. I'd thought Mansen's helmet had hit me when it had fallen off his head, but a bullet had skimmed across the top of my thigh. Seeing the wound made it hurt like hell, of course, but the pain subsided quickly. My virus seemed to be working hard to protect its investment.
Mansen choked a bit and blew blood, so I rolled him over to see his back. Yup. A big-assed hole. I tore open a bandage pack and slapped its plastic wrap over the back wound, then used the bandage to tie it in place and cover the front wound before rolling Mansen against the seats so that he'd be on his side to keep blood from entering his uninjured lung.
After strapping him to the seat framework, I turned to Bream. He'd already sliced open his pantsleg over the wound and used his first aid pack on the wound, but he hadn't installed it properly. I reached for Samar's aid pack to replace Bream's.
"Any other hits?" I asked.
He shook his head. I checked Mansen again as I wadded Bream's blood-soaked bandage into one of the plastic bandage baggies and stuffed it in my shirt pocket. Grabbing the door gunner's helmet, I put it on and called the pilot. He asked for a sitrep in a thick southern accent.
Yelling over the noise of the helicopter, I said, "Gunner and one of our guys dead. We have a chest wound, a leg wound, and me back here."
"You don't have to yell, I can hear you fine through the headset. Are you okay?"
"Yes."
"Can you operate a sixty?"
"Yes."
"Then you're the new door gunner. Strap in and stand by. We're assisting a pickup on the way and it's a hot LZ, so stay tight back there."
I glanced back at Bream and told him to get flat and cover the other door. He did so, reaching for Samar's ammo pouches. I unstrapped Samar and laid him across the doorway in front of Bream, then used his bootlaces to tie him to the seat rack and keep him aboard during sharp turns.
Mansen was out cold, so I handed his ammo to Bream, unhooked the gunner and strapped him into a sitting position on the bench, then strapped myself in behind the M-60 and tapped a short burst to check the gun. Working fine.
"Gun's okay," I told the pilot.
"Roger that," said the pilot.
The sound of the rotors changed and we suddenly seemed to dive at the tree line. The miniguns on each side blared like long farts and spewed empty brass casings like fountains. A short line of black pajamas appeared below on my side and aimed up at us. I walked a good thirty rounds back and forth into them.
A few of the downed VC fired back at us and I heard rounds hitting our bird, but then we were past them and I couldn't put the sixty on them to shoot again.
When the helicopter swung around I was slung hard toward the doorway, but I managed to get back upright in time to spot and pepper a VC mortar team. Don't know if I actually hit any of them, but they damn sure scattered like rats.
Slowly spinning us a full three-sixty, the pilot tapped the miniguns sporadically. I couldn't see his targets when he shot at them, but when the survivors popped back up as we turned I got my own chances at them. The bird suddenly lifted fast and banked hard left to circle and I saw a gunship coming in below us, spewing brass casings just as we had.
Four guys jumped up from concealment and dragged two others at a dead run toward the gunship. We orbited the scene with our nose generally pointed at some portion the tree line, our pilot firing apparently random bursts with the miniguns as the ship rocked and swung back and forth like a hula dancer's butt. I heard Bream throw up, then swear.
A few more black pajamas popped up to fire at us and I knocked them down with a long burst, then the other bird began to lift and it turned into my line of fire. I aimed the sixty away from the other chopper and started to look back to see how Bream was doing.
When everything is happening at once, an incoming round has to hit something close to you to really get your attention. One did just that, whacking my helmet hard on the way past. I saw stars for a moment, then saw two VC muzzle blasts flash almost directly below the other bird. When I sprayed the grass below the other chopper, the VC's showed themselves again momentarily as they either ducked or fell. Whatever; they didn't shoot anymore, and that was good enough for me.
Two more of our guys jumped up and ran toward us. I saw a small group of black pajamas some distance behind them and sprayed the VC in one two-second and half a dozen shorter bursts. The bird that had been lifting dropped back to earth so quickly that it probably scared the pee out of the guys on the ground, then it lifted again.
Another VC mortar crew showed themselves as they tried to set up in a hurry by the trees. I hammered them with a two-second burst. Two fell and one dove sideways. I tapped off another few rounds where I thought he'd be and scanned for more targets as both of the birds lifted up and out of there.
Although we were still above the sweep action, we stopped taking hits and I had no targets. I uncramped my fingers from the sixty's handles and turned to see how Bream had fared. He was face down against Samar's back and I first thought he was hit or dead, then I noticed that his aura wasn't fading.
"Hey, Bream! You okay?"
His head came up and he turned a bit on his side to staringly look up at me, then he nodded, threw up, and rolled flat again. I left him to his thoughts and called up front.
"Hey, pilot."
He drawled back, "Well, I guess that would be me, since I'm drivin' today. How you boys doin' back there?"
"No change. Are we gonna make any more stops like the last one?"
Laughing, he said, "Nope. We took a hit that'll need some fixin' and she's givin' me an argument about bein' up here an' all, but we oughta be okay for a while yet. That's assumin' we get clear of all this shit, though."
"Oh, yeah. Right. Of course. Any other bad news, Cap?"
"No Caps here. I'm a Warrant-four. Can't think of any more bad news right now, gunner, but if I do I'll let you know. Good enough?"
"Guess so."
Except for the reek of fluids and an intermittent screeching sound I didn't like at all, the rest of the flight was uneventful. We set down at an airstrip I'd never seen before and a Dodge van rigged as an ambulance showed up. While four guys offloaded the wounded I gathered their rifles and field gear into a pile and strapped everything into a tight bundle.
Once all the straps were snug, I sat down on the pile and looked around. There was nothing at all familiar about the place, but it seemed to be an all-Army flightline, so it shouldn't be too hard to find a ride back. A glance at my watch told me it was only seven-thirty, though it seemed as if it ought to be much later.
The pilot conferred with his copilot for some moments, then headed my way. I stood up and saluted as he grinningly approached.
After a brief return salute he stuck his hand out and I took it as he said, "Ya'll did good out there. Carswell told me you picked some of 'em right off his ass while he was on the ground. We pilots really appreciate things like that, y'know."
"De nada, sir. I probably thought they were shooting at me, but you don't have to let him know that."
Shaking his head tersely, the W-4 -- Brooks, by his nametag -- grinned and said, "Nah. 'Course not. You plannin' to carry all this stuff somewhere?"
"Nope. I'm going to sit here on the flightline until a couple of MP's in a jeep come out to tell me I can't, then they're going to give me and all this stuff a ride to an air conditioned office with a phone."
He gazed at the pile for a moment, then asked, "You really all that fired up to get back out there today?"
Shrugging, I said, "Well, sir, the Army takes a rather dim view when people don't show up for work."
Brooks laughed. "Yeah, guess you're right about that. I got a jeep comin' for me and Pollard, there." He gestured toward the guy poking around in the chopper. "How about we drop you at the ops building?"
"Sounds good to me. Thanks."
He looked at the blood on the deck of the helicopter for a moment, then asked, "Don't you wanna go see about the guys who came in with you?"
Shaking my head, I said, "We weren't close and I'm a medic. Others are going to need me somewhere else today. Best I get back out there."
He shrugged and said, "Yeah, well, when you put it that way... Tell ya what; I'll snag you a ride back while we're at ops. You just stand by a few and we'll fix you right up one way or another."
And thus it was. I left the bundle in the jeep while we went into the ops office. In the latrine I pulled my spare pants out of my Alice pack and changed, then dampened the bloody bandage I'd saved to transfer some of the stain to my clean pants above my almost-healed leg wound to explain what Bream had seen.
Wadding up my old pants with the bullet hole in the leg, I bought a Coke at the machine outside the ops office and tossed the pants onto a truck that passed. It had an engine of some sort chained down in the back. The pants and handkerchief would probably become cleaning rags or trash.
Fifteen minutes or so passed before Brooks drove me out to another gunship that was being fueled and helped me toss the bundle aboard, then shook my hand again and drove away.
The gunship had two door gunners, one of whom looked up from oiling his M-60 and nodded in greeting as I climbed aboard.
"You with Delta company?" he asked.
As I sat down and strapped in, I said, "Nope. Charlie company."
"Whatchoo gonna do with all that stuff?"
"Kick it out the door over the base, I guess, then head out to my unit."
The pilot -- a Captain Marston by his nametag -- rapped on the deck at the other doorway to get my attention and snapped, "Wrong, Sergeant. You're aboard my ship because Brooks called it a personal favor. I'll touch down quick at your compound. You get yourself and your stuff off my bird there, 'cause we're not making any other stops. This is a gunship, not a goddamned taxi service."
Having said that, he left the doorway. The gunner shrugged and said, "That's just the way he is," then he went back to work on his sixty.
Twenty minutes later we descended steeply toward my base. I kicked the bundle out hard enough to clear the skid and followed it, then turned to wave and say thanks for the ride. The gunship was already well above me, hauling itself back into the sky, but the gunner waved back at me.
Several guys came over to see what was going on and I detailed three of them to carry the bundle over to the CO's office. One groaned and muttered about being drafted again.
"Hey, I got it this far," I said. "Now grab it and haul ass."
As we set the bundle on the office floor I asked the company clerk -- a three-week-old newbie named Jackson who got the job when Tolliver had been hauled out by the MP's -- if Drake or Hardesty was in.
Standing up and almost standing at attention, he announced, "Lieutenant Hardesty is here, Sergeant. Captain Drake is in the field."
'Field', he called it.
"Jackson," I said as I prepared to knock on the XO's door, "They had 'fields' in other wars. In this one we call it the 'bush', and everybody'll tease you ragged if you keep talking like a new recruit, so loosen up."
Without relaxing one visible iota, he said, "Yes, Sergeant."
Whatever. I knocked and Hardesty said to come in. I entered and closed the door, then tossed him a generalized salute as I approached his desk.
"Made it back, LT. I brought some stuff that'll need sorted, too. Mansen and Samar are dead. Bream was hit and they..."
He waved me to a seat and said, "Yeah, I know. I got a call from medevac. Got a call from a Warrant-4 Brooks, too. He must think pretty highly of you to go through brigade to get a call out here."
"Don't know why, LT. He's the one who kept the chopper in the air when it really didn't want to be there. All I did was gun for him."
Nodding, Hardesty said, "Yeah, he mentioned that. Said you were good with it, too. You're a medic, Sarge. When did you learn to use an M-60?"
"I covered for Patterson when he had the runs last year. He had to visit the latrine about every ten minutes for a few days. I got to where I could hit the farthest barrel fairly consistently and reload the ammo can. Wouldn't want to break one down, though."
He seemed quietly thoughtful, then raised his voice a bit and said, "Jackson."
A chair slid back in the outer office. Two boot-thumps later Jackson smartly opened the door and said, "Yes, sir."
"Two black coffees, please." Looking at me, he asked, "No cream or sugar?"
"No, sir," I said, then turning to Jackson, "But put some ice cubes in the cup before you fill it, okay? I don't like it scalding hot."
Jackson said, "Ice cubes," with a nod, then left. When I turned back, Hardesty was staring at the bloodstain on my pants leg.
"It isn't mine," I said. "Mansen had a bad chest wound."
"Bream said you were hit. He sounded pretty sure about it."
"A round bounced off my helmet while I was gunning."
Shaking his head, Hardesty said, "He said you took one in the leg."
I yanked my pants leg out of the blousing band and hauled it up until Hardesty could see the bloodstain that had soaked through to my leg.
"See? No dings, LT. Bream may have been a little distracted with the hole in his own leg. Why do you think I'd try to hide a leg wound?"
"I can think of a couple of reasons. One, because you'd be afraid you'd be taken off duty on a really busy day. Two, in order to let a wound get bad enough to need hospital time and maybe get sent back to the States."
He held up a hand as if to stave off any protests I might have wanted to make and said, "But I know you and number one would be my vote. I think you'd patch anything that wasn't immediately life-threatening and say nothing in order to be here when the others start coming back in."
"Brooks told you what I said, didn't he?"
With a slight squint of surprise, Hardesty said, "No, he just said that you were in a hurry to get back to the unit."
I nodded. "Yeah, but that was almost word-for-word what I told him, LT; that I'd be needed here."
Jackson knocked, then brought our coffees in. Hardesty and I thanked him, then he left again. After sipping in silence for a few moments, Hardesty set his cup down and leaned his chair back.
"Sarge, where could a man hide on this base? I mean really hide?"
"I'd have to think about that, LT. There's almost no place that he couldn't be found if people were seriously looking for him. Why? Is somebody missing?"
Fixing me with a gaze as he reached for his cup, Hardesty said, "No, nobody's missing. We thought somebody might be missing last night, though. Until you came waltzing out of the mess tent, around three, that is. Where were you, Sarge?"
Shrugging, I said, "I couldn't sleep, so I wandered around some."
Chapter Seven
Hardesty sipped his coffee, then asked, "You're saying that you were up and wandering around most of the night, but that nobody saw you?"
Shrugging, I said, "Well, apparently not, if they couldn't find me. Why was anyone looking for me in the first place?"
Sighing, Hardesty put his cup down and said, "First Tilman was looking for you for some reason. Never was clear about that. Something you said to him, I think. Anyway, the CQ stopped him around ten to find out why he was poking around behind the dispensary. He said he'd been all over the base looking for you, so I sent the CQ to see if Bates and Springer had disappeared, too."
Nodding, I said, "Ah... You thought maybe we'd gone hunting again?"
He fiddled with his cup and said, "Well, the thought did cross my mind."
I tried my best to look stunned at the idea.
"LT, if you'll pardon my saying so, that'd be kind of crazy, wouldn't it? We aren't talking about a few ambush teams or watchers. The woods are full of Chucks these days. I mean, Jesus, LT... Delta's body count yesterday was higher than their score for all of last year and we're expecting the same today."
Sitting up and shoving his coffee aside, Hardesty tapped a folder on his desk thoughtfully and then shoved it across to me.
"Speaking of body counts," he said, "There are two prisoner interrogation reports in there. They say -- and this is supposed to be an accurate translation -- that a 'something' ripped through two of their larger camps last night and killed over a hundred of 'em in just a few hours. What do you think happened?"
I took the folder and scanned the documents inside it. Yup. On page two they'd discussed the incident and called Anna and me a 'something'. Oh, well. Hadn't expected them to say anything particularly flattering about us, anyway.
"Damn," I said, "We don't give those Special Ops guys enough credit, do we?"
Shaking his head, Hardesty said, "They don't think our people did it."
"Uh, huh. Which 'they' would that be? The VC or the same intel putzes who said this sweep would be a sunny walk in the park a few days ago?"
"The VC, but none of our outfits have claimed credit for it, either."
Putting the folder back on his desk, I said, "Well, then, it doesn't matter. What matters is having fewer Chucks trying to kill us today. Where is 2nd platoon, how do I get there, and when do I leave?"
He finished a sip of coffee and said, "You're staying here. Nelson says he'll be sending some of our guys back in around noon if things keep going the way they have been."
I didn't hide my surprise. "The way they have been..? LT, we got slammed hard when we landed. All those Chucks can't just have disappeared in two hours."
Hardesty suddenly seemed irritated.
He snapped, "Air strikes seem to have been very successful this morning and the Marines are heading into the valley from the south. Drake wants to pull our walking wounded out. You got a problem with that, Sergeant? Are you presuming to know better than your CO where our troops ought to be?"
He was getting pissed. Why was he getting pissed?
"No, LT. I'm fine with getting our people out of there and you know it. Why are you getting pissed?"
Setting his coffee down, he said carefully, "Maybe because I've come to realize that we seem to be a little too casual around here where rank is concerned, and it surprises me that you'd question your CO's command decisions, particularly field tactics that work in our favor and that you know nothing about, since you were absent when they were decided upon. What do you think, Sergeant? Are we perhaps a little too casual about rank around here?"
I set my coffee on his desk and stood up.
"Lieutenant Hardesty, sir," I said in a monotone, then, "I simply questioned why we were pulling our people out so soon. Regarding the other matter; lots of salutes and 'sirs' can easily be arranged, but distancing yourself at this point is going to create more problems than it solves. Unlike the NCO's of many other units, your NCO's talk with you; they don't talk around you and they don't try to avoid your particular link in the chain of command. They don't automatically assume that you're just another pogue officer who has to pull his six months in the zone in order to make the next rank. They also don't tell you the bare minimum necessary or pad their reports to keep you fat, dumb, happy, and busy trying to look busy."
Hardesty seemed pretty well shocked by my words.
I closed with, "In other words, sir, they think that you give a shit about them, so they give a shit about you. That's a functional relationship that just doesn't exist for a large percentage of other junior officers, as I'm sure you know. I'm not sure I'd want to change that relationship, but that's your business, of course, sir. May I be dismissed, now, sir? I really should go prepare the dispensary."
For a moment it seemed that I might have gone too far, then Hardesty picked up his coffee and said, "Ah, hell. Sit down, will you?"
I sat down and sipped coffee as I waited.
Hardesty sipped his coffee for a moment in silence, then said, "I'm just bent out of shape because I'm stuck here," he said, gesturing at the office as a whole. "This isn't how I envisioned things would be."
When I made no reply, Hardesty stared into his coffee for a few moments, then spoke again.
"I feel as if I ought to be out there like Murchison. Maybe even instead of Murchison. Leading 2nd or 3rd platoon, not sitting on my ass in an office. Can you understand that?"
"I told Brooks that I had to get back here, so I guess I can. Sir."
He looked up at me and chuckled. "God, that word sounds strange coming from you. Call me LT like always; at least I'll know who you mean."
Uh, huh. Chums again? Maybe. Sort of.
"I mean it," he said. "Sorry for pulling rank on you like that. You're right; it's better the way things are."
'Are?' Nope. Not hardly. 'Were.' He'd waved his bars at me. For whatever reasons, he'd braced me about our differing ranks, distinctly clarifying a dividing line between otherwise cooperative personalities. And he was right; he simply ran an office, even if it was an office in a combat zone. Most of what he knew of the area beyond our concertina wire he'd only heard from the NCO's who'd been there.
Nodding as I picked up my cup and finished my coffee, I kept my thoughts to myself and shrugged as I said, "Oh, well. I still have to prep the dispensary before noon and you already knew about Mansen, Samar, and Bream. I don't have anything else to report, so I'll get underway."
Hardesty asked, "You're pissed at me, aren't you? I didn't mean what I said."
I thought about that. No, I wasn't angry, just somewhat disappointed.
Shrugging again, I said, "I'm not pissed, LT. And I won't be saying anything to anyone about this conversation. I don't gossip."
"I didn't infer that you would."
Sighing, I said, "No, you didn't. I just thought I should mention it. It was a private conversation and it'll stay that way. Dismissed?"
He gave me a disgruntled look and said, "Yeah. Sure. Later, Sarge."
Tossing him another of my generalized salutes, I left the office and dropped my cup off at the mess tent as I headed for the dispensary. Had anything really changed? For the most part; no. Business as usual. But with a touch of distancing that hadn't been there before.
Had that been the point? Had he simply felt the need to remind me -- and maybe himself? -- that he was an officer? Whatever. He'd either remain a functional, friendly link or be bypassed if he began to strut his bars too much.
But, for whatever reason, someone I'd considered a friend of sorts had flashed his bars at me in momentary anger. If Captain Drake had done it, there'd have been less impact. My rapport with him was based around his position as unit commander; his job allowed neither of us any illusions about his rank or role.
Major Anna Corinth. Captain Marian Hartley. Friends and much more, and it's possible -- even probable -- that our off-duty relationships would exist even if I worked at 3rd Surgical, but during duty hours I'd be just another enlisted, following orders or passing them on.
The difference was simply that the ladies would have to require and enforce a more formal environment in order to avoid the appearance of an improper level of familiarity.
Deciding that the entire matter lacked merit enough to be considered an issue, I went to my small 'office' area at the rear of the dispensary. Pulling a Coke from the fridge, I put my feet up on a desk drawer and opened my 'office' book, a colorfully titled adventure/mystery by John D. MacDonald.
Yeah. Right. Get comfortable and open a book without locking the front door. Go ahead. I dare you. The door opened and quick bootsteps approached. Hardesty's aura. I barely had time to get my feet off the drawer and stash my book in the same drawer, then pull a folder over the book and open the folder on my desk.
When Hardesty appeared in the doorway, I tried to look surprised as I stood up and said, "Hi, LT. What's up?"
After a long look at me and tapping his fingers on the doorframe, he said, "I just... wanted to be sure things would be the way they were, you know?"
"No sweat. You told me why you were tensed up, and I can understand that, LT. Sometimes people have to remind themselves of who they are and where they really stand in things."
His eyes narrowed as he asked, "Is that what you think I was doing?"
Shrugging, I said, "Wasn't it? You showed me your bars. I already knew you were a Lieutenant, so why else would you feel a need to do that? You bitched about being stuck in an office, too. I can't fix that, but Drake can, if you really want some bush time."
Coming around my desk, I said, "But all you need is time in country to make another bar, LT. There's no need to go outside the wire unless you have something to prove to yourself. I, for one, would prefer that you not go out. You're someone we NCO's can count on when things look as if they'll get shitty, and if you got hit, the new guy might be a rank-conscious, waste-of-skin asshole like Sauder."
Mention of Echo company's martinet executive officer made Hardesty's eyes narrow even farther for a moment, then he nodded slightly.
"Okay," he said. "I just wanted to be sure we were all right."
"Yeah, I think we are, LT."
He nodded again, then said, "Good. I'll let you get back to work, then," and turned to go. After he'd left the dispensary and gone about halfway across the compound I sat down, put my feet up, and again picked up my book.
Around eleven I confirmed that our guys would start returning around noon and went to get some lunch. By the time the first birds landed in the compound the dispensary was open again and ready for the assortment of minor injuries common to trundling around in jungle war zones.
As I worked on my walk-in patients -- some of whom deferred treatments until after they'd had lunch -- I passed the word that we could use a few donations of 'O'-positive to keep the stockpile up.
Groans and moans went up around the room, of course, but four guys let me tap them and I hooked them up while I worked on the last of my patients. After the baggies had been filled I gave each man one of the Tootsie Roll Pops that I kept in the fridge and a slip for light duty for the rest of the day.
After proper markings, three of the new baggies went in the fridge as three of the older bags emptied into the sink. After rinsing the sink and cleaning up the dispensary a bit, I locked the door and headed for my rear office with the fourth -- unmarked -- blood bag.
A few minutes later I took all the baggies and the wrappings and trash that had accumulated during the afternoon's treatments to the burn barrels behind the latrine. Private Kenner, who had burn duty that day, watched me dump the stuff in a barrel and said, "Thanks, you saved me a trip."
"No biggie, Kenner. Been here and done this, myself."
His surprise seemed genuine enough. "You?"
"Did you think I was born with these stripes?"
"Oh. Well, no, but..." He left the sentence unfinished and shrugged.
"Later," I said, and left him to it.
By four everyone was back in camp. Two guys had been evac'ed to 3rd Surge after stepping on foot traps, but otherwise we'd fared pretty well during the support mission. Captain Drake came in as I was treating the second wave of minor ailments and he took a seat with the others.
I paused in digging wood fragments out of a guy's arm and looked at Drake, but he tapped a small bloodstain on his bicep, shrugged, and settled back with one of the magazines I kept on the low table.
His silent presence made the others somewhat nervous, of course. I finished up the damaged arm, then turned to face Drake.
"Captain, let me see your arm."
"These guys were ahead of me and it's just a splinter, I think."
Turning to the others, I said, "Hands up if you think I should take the CO next. The Army could get another hour of work out of him today."
Six of the eight raised their hands; one was asleep and another had been reading and missed my remark.
Drake came to sit by the gurney and I went to work on his arm. A bit of probing told me that the first bit of wood I removed hadn't been all of it.
"Cap, there were two pieces in there. I'm going to have to cut a bit to get at the rest of it. Would you rather have someone at 3rd Surgical do the honors?"
Looking up at me, he asked, "How much cutting is a 'bit'?"
"Half an inch or so of skin. I can spread the muscle tissue enough to pull it out clean, but you'll have a bruise that'll feel bone-deep for a few days. You'll have that, anyway, no matter who goes after it."
He nodded and said, "Go for it, then."
Fact: I knew that he'd shepherded the two wounded to 3rd Surgical earlier. He could have had someone dig the splinter out then, so letting me dig it out was intended to be a form of bonding with the troops; a show of unity as well as a minor example of decisive leadership.
I numbed the area and went after the splinter. Ten minutes later I was sure I had all of it out and packed the wound to drain as I put in temporary stitches and slapped a two-inch Band-Aid over the incision.
"All fixed," I said. "The bandage gets changed daily, Cap."
Drake stood up and glanced at his arm, then nodded and said, "Thanks," before he headed for the door.
"Captain Drake," I said.
When he turned to look at me I said, "A fancy little tattoo later would cover the scar."
Somebody snickered. Another somebody looked shocked.
Drake gave me a small smile and said, "If I catch you selling tattoos in here I'll bust you two stripes on the spot."
Gavoy grinningly muttered, "Oooo. Two stripes. That's bad, man."
As Drake left, I figured he'd gained some points for being 'one of the guys', a few points for his response about tattooing, and probably even a few more for gently reminding everybody that he was the boss.
The guys would talk about the event for days, too, especially when they found out he'd been at 3rd Surge earlier and had waited to let his own unit medic do the work. Some of those who'd attended the operation would later ask "How's the arm, sir?" and believe themselves to be somehow special when he replied. Tribal politics at work.
Chapter Eight
Two days later Andrews came to my bunker. As always, he said nothing for some moments after waving his greeting on the way in and sitting on the other bunk. As always, I waited for him to get around to saying what was on his mind.
At last -- without looking up from scraping crud off his boots and without any preamble -- he said, "LT is trying to get Drake to let him go on a sweep. Says he needs the experience. If Nelson don't get him, I will, and I don't like it."
"I don't like it, either."
Looking up, he asked, "Why don't you like it?"
"First, he's never been out there, so he'll be dead weight. Second, if he gets hit they may stick us with someone like Sauder."
"Yeah. Thoughta that. So what're we gonna do about it?"
"Nothing we can do. He'll have to be just another newbie, Andrews. Cover his ass if you can. If you can't, bag him up. It's cold, man, but there it is."
Nodding, Andrews agreed, "Yeah. There it is. Damn."
Some silent time went by, then I said, "Could be it won't happen, though. Drake likes things the way they are. Hardesty may have to push pretty damned hard."
Andrews shrugged and nodded again, then stood up and said, "Later," on his way out the door.
Apparently Hardesty pushed hard enough. We received word Wednesday morning that the LT was going to be part-timing it with both Nelson and Andrews to prepare for some bush time. That meant learning the gear that was in actual use as opposed to the ton of impractical -- and heavy -- crap the Army so thoughtfully issued everybody.
For a week Hardesty wore his forty pound rig nearly all the time to get used to it. He practiced dealing with wires and other traps with the other guys, put a lot of holes in some targets, discussed previous sweeps in vast detail, and asked enough questions to really irritate some people.
The following Wednesday he left with Andrews and 2nd platoon to assist Delta company in another sweep. I worked with 3rd platoon that day and wound up on an evac bird late in the afternoon because I didn't want to take the chance that some jeep radiator drain tubing that I'd installed in a guy's leg would come loose in transit.
An eight-inch loop of tubing anchored with dental floss was what had kept blood flowing to the guy's lower leg for over an hour. When we finally located a working radio a bird came for us. Six of us were wounded in various ways, so I put everybody on the bird and arranged another ride back from 3rd Surgical for the two of us who hadn't been damaged.
Halfway to the zone we were redirected to base. The sweep was over for our guys and Drake wanted the dispensary opened. As I was treating some of the second load of returnees, a grinning Hardesty walked through the door and dumped his gear in a corner.
"What's up, LT?"
"Oh, nothing much," he said airily. "Just dropped in to cool off."
Andrews came shortly thereafter, having properly left his gear outside. I didn't see any blood on him, so I asked if he'd been hit.
Andrews shrugged and said, "Just a little. Not too bad."
Hardesty, grinning like an idiot, said, "Check it out," and turned around. The backs of his legs were sparsely speckled with red dots. Buckshot shrapnel. I glanced at Andrews.
"Same here," he said, "Like I said, just a little. We still had our packs on, so we only got some in the legs."
"Yeah," said Hardesty with a wry grin. "Borland was pissed about something. Threw a stick, tripped a wire. Good thing we were facing the other way. Damn. We've been squeezing out the ones near the surface, but some of them are in too deep."
Chatter, chatter. Unspent excitement from a close call. Andrews glanced at Hardesty and rolled his eyes as if praying for relief. I said nothing as I finished with someone's lacerated knee.
When the chair was empty again, I pointed to Hardesty and indicated the gurney. As he clambered aboard it, I asked, "LT, are you going out again tomorrow?"
"Can't," he said with a headshake. "Brass coming. Monday, soonest."
Clipped sentences, rapid speech. After fishing the shrapnel out of Hardesty, I gave him a glass of shockjuice, told him to stick around for a while, and waved for Andrews to get on the gurney as I reached for clean instruments.
"Andrews," I grinningly whispered, "Why the hell didn't you pop him in the leg or something? He'd still get a Purple and he'd be stuck indoors for a while."
Giving me a droll look, Andrews climbed onto the gurney. Once I'd pulled half a dozen or so bits of metal out of him, I set a box of Band-Aids and a box of alcohol swabs on the table, then divided the contents of the boxes between them.
"Gentlemen," I said, "Those aren't just scratches and the Republic of Vietnam is nothing but one big infection looking for a way to get you. Clean and cover your new holes every day until they stop draining. Come see me if any of them don't look or smell right."
Monday came and Hardesty went out with the patrols again. They encountered no VC, but disarmed or destroyed quite a few traps and decided to declare the day a success of sorts.
Two more such day-long sorties occurred during the week, then the influx of new personnel -- replacements for those who'd rotated back to the States or been killed or wounded -- began taking up so much of Hardesty's time that he simply couldn't continue going out with Nelson and Andrews.
The fact that he was having to sort out things involving replacements for other companies told me that someone at the brigade level was taking a hand in Hardesty's future. I had no idea who that brass hat might be, but most of us were thankful that the LT was sidelined from the bush.
Hardesty, on the other hand, chafed at the type of work he was doing, the amount of it, the fact that he couldn't pull free even a day a week to go hunting with Nelson or Andrew, and just about anything else that in any way hindered his desire to get back to the bush.
Then he found an out. While at 3rd Surgical's holding detachment, he found another Looie -- George Franklin -- who was in a holding pattern due to illness and an ID snafu.
LT Franklin had missed his ride to his new assignment due to a different kind of newbieitis; he had a particularly bad, three-day-old case of the runs that just about everyone caught immediately after arriving in Vietnam.
The chopper pilot said he'd be making another trip to the base in the afternoon, so Franklin had headed for the dispensary to get help coping with what felt like his guts being shoved out his ass.
Franklin passed out halfway across the hospital's scorching-hot parking lot around eight-thirty that morning. He was taken to the emergency room, treated for severe dehydration and dosed with antibiotics, and admitted to the hospital.
His duffle bag and B-bag -- left in the ops office -- had been loaded aboard the ill-fated chopper. Their somewhat charred remains were dug out of the crashed bird's wreckage sometime in the early afternoon.
The bodies went to the morgue. Franklin's unclaimed luggage went to the Provost Marshall's office and then to a holding facility. The PM's office verified that Franklin had been listed on the flight manifest and was told that there had been no survivors, so it naturally listed Franklin as deceased.
Meanwhile, the hospital used the info on Franklin's ID card to cobble up some temporary treatment records and tried to find out what unit he was with. When the hospital clerk had called brigade personnel that morning, he'd been told that Franklin was unassigned because the previous day's assignments list was still in an out-box on someone's desk downstairs. The hospital clerk made a note of Franklin's unassigned status before filing the treatment record folder.
When Franklin awoke the following day -- Thursday -- he was told that he had nothing to worry about; that he'd be up and around in no time, that his luggage would be waiting for him at his new base, and that the Army had been notified of his whereabouts.
That same day, Brigade sent notification to Franklin's family that he'd been killed enroute to his new assignment. His pay, medical, and personnel records were sent back to the States for a final accounting and a major signed the forms necessary to have his remains returned to the US on Monday.
Sunday morning Franklin was mentioned with others who'd died in the crash in a memorial service at the base chapel. A few hours later the night duty nurse -- who'd attended the service -- noticed Franklin's name on her patient roster, marveled at the similarity, and felt disposed to say a small prayer for the poor Lt. Franklin who'd died in the crash.
Monday afternoon Franklin was released from the hospital. He headed straight for Brigade HQ after breakfast and walked right into a bureaucratic nightmare that had continued for more than a week.
After Franklin made a MARS call to tell his parents that he was alive, after all, the Brigade CO decided that he didn't want to send Franklin to a line unit and perhaps end up having to put them through such a hardship twice.
He scouted around to find Franklin a rear-echelon sort of job, but Franklin's MOS and other factors worked against that idea, so the CO used Franklin's recent hospitalization as an excuse to put him to work around brigade offices on a part-time basis.
Hardesty met Franklin in the mess hall, heard his story, and went to the brigade XO to see about getting Franklin assigned to Charlie company. Suddenly Franklin had a relatively safe assignment within his MOS and Hardesty no longer had to mess with replacement personnel.
Nelson, Andrew, and I were assembling people for an afternoon sweep when Andrew groaned and muttered, "Oh, shit."
I'd been thinking about Anna, who was scheduled to drop by a little after dark, so Andrew's comment caught me somewhat by surprise. Looking where Andrew was looking, I saw Lt. Hardesty double-timing across the compound to join us.
In the late afternoon sweep we turned up some VC and several caches of weapons and food, so we had to stick around until things had either been transported or destroyed. Delta ran into big trouble and we were deployed to flank and cover them, and the evening sort of went all to hell from there.
The VC managed to down a helicopter, then they used the crew as bait. Every attempt to reach them ended badly. Confusion reigned for nearly an hour and another flanking action failed and left our people shooting at each other. In that first hour after dark we had more than a dozen casualties, and I'd say probably half of them were the result of what is whimsically referred to as "friendly fire".
By the time we'd managed to encircle the helicopter crash site, close ranks enough to form a functional perimeter, and dig in for the night, fully half of the birds available were occupied solely with medevac runs.
Half of 2nd platoon had wounds and 3rd had about the same number. By the time my group had dug in, a captain we didn't know was in local command and nobody had seen our XO, Hardesty, since just before dark.
There seemed to be a herd of auras moving toward us from the west, but I said nothing about them because I wouldn't have been able to explain how I'd seen them at all. Besides that, there was a good chance that they were our people, stumbling around in the dark looking for the rest of us.
I decided to find a way to slip away and go to ghost mode for a better look at things, but events conspired against me when some dipshit panicked at a sound or a shadow and tossed a grenade. It bounced off a tree and landed right in the middle of a hole containing four guys.
One of them snatched it up and threw it out of the hole, but more than half the grenade's fuse had been spent before he grabbed it. It went off maybe twenty feet from them and he became another casualty, albeit a live one.
We had to get him to the clearing for a pickup, so we made a poncho-litter and hauled him a hundred yards or so before someone opened fire on us. The sound of the weapon ID'd it as an AK-47, and it suddenly seemed as if every GI in the valley fired back at the goddamned thing, mostly over and around us.
Rounds were flying in from all directions as I dove for cover. When the firing had stopped, I crawled over to see who had survived. My patient and I were alone in that regard; the two who'd been carrying him were dead.
Two men came crashing through the brush aiming rifles at us, then they saw we weren't VC. Another guy -- Nelson, I think, though I couldn't hear that well at the moment -- came along threatening a dire fate for whichever stupid asshole had called the area "secure".
Once we had the patient and the bodies at the LZ for a dustoff, I slipped away from the group to take a leak and ghosted out of camp.
Lifting well into a tree, I mentally marked its position in relation to the fallen helicopter and took off my web gear and Alice pack. Removing my bayonet and sheath from my web belt, I stuck it in a back pocket, hung my other gear and rifle on a branch, and then headed back down.
After pilfering half a dozen grenades from an open case, I headed toward the oncoming herd of auras, then circled above the widely-dispersed group. They all had steel-pot helmets. The VC didn't wear steel helmets, so I moved on.
Less than a quarter-mile away to the north I found VC troops; also dispersed, but moving forward in small clusters that covered each other. I watched them advance until the US troops of the sweep merged with those of the encampment.
By then some of the VC had approached to within three hundred yards or so of the encampment. I tossed my grenades into a few of the VC clusters maybe a hundred yards to the rear of their frontmost groups, ducking behind a fat tree every time I threw one.
Those to the rear of the explosions halted their advance and took cover, searching for targets. Those to the front also hunkered down for a bit, but then began moving forward again.
Swooping down, I picked up one of the AK's, fired a few bursts at a few nearby VC, then lifted as quickly as possible as both American and VC weapons opened up on the area.
Dropping near the ground some distance away, I used up the ammo in the AK on another cluster of VC, then grabbed another rifle, moved to another location, and sprayed the other side of the group.
American fire raked the high grass and mortar fire began walking through the region and I got the hell out of there. Lifting back into the sky, I felt a presence like my own approaching as I watched the carnage below. A small cluster of VC were moving away below me. Tossing my last grenade at them, I zipped behind a tree until it went off, then lifted again.
Anna met me perhaps two hundred yards above the jungle. One disadvantage about ghost mode; we had to grope for each other's hands in order to pull ourselves together into a kiss.
"Hi," she said when she broke the kiss, "When I got to your bunker, I discovered that I'd been stood up. I was sort of heartbroken about it, you know, but then I had a look inside the commo bunker and decided to drop by out here."
Gesturing around us with a left arm that seemed to become a vague tentacle protruding from my aura, I said, "Hey, I'm sorry, but I have a really good excuse for standing you up, milady. Forgive me and I'll try to make it up to you."
Anna chuckled and said, "Yeah, well, okay. I guess. This one time, anyway. How's it going?"
"Could be better. Could be a lot worse, too, I suppose. I've been flapping around pointing out the Chucks for our guys by firing AK's at nearby VC."
"So I saw. I could do that, too. Want some help?"
"Sure, lady. Tonight there are probably just barely enough VC to go around. Jump right in."
She did just that. Anna let go of my hand, plummeted toward the ground, and stopped next to an aura that almost instantly collapsed. She emptied his AK at some other nearby auras, then immediately lifted. By the tracers, the volume of fire from US weapons seemed heavy enough to shred the area below us as she rejoined me.
Watching the carnage below, Anna softly said, "Wow!"
I'd noted that her aura had become mostly goldish-white as the firing had erupted. Anna was getting turned on. Really turned on. When the VC auras below began moving again, she dropped to earth to appropriate another AK from one of them.
Her aura had seemed to turn to glistening gold as she emptied the magazine in a broad arc at the VC around her, then she lifted fast and hovered above the incoming fire. Tracer rounds streaked past seemingly just below her feet.
I said, "You might want to lift just a bit higher, ma'am. Feet would take a few weeks to grow back. How would you explain that at work?"
Lifting to my altitude, she said, "Marian would schedule around it, of course."
"Uh, huh. And what if somebody shoots just a little too high and takes your head off? Marian would probably blame me for letting you..."
Anna's hand found mine as she laughingly asked, "Letting me..? Ha!"
"You know what I mean. I'd be kind of disappointed, too, y'know. You're kind of cute."
She pulled me into another kiss and said, "Aww, you say the nicest things sometimes. Now let's get down there and really stir things up."
"Sounds good," I said, kissing her. "But try to be careful, Anna."
"You, too, Ed."
We split up and set about creating a night of pure hell for the VC.
Chapter Nine
For the next hour or so I continued working as before, appropriating VC weapons to use against them and draw fire. Now and then I'd see Anna flitting between the trees and soon after hear the results of her visits with the VC.
A trumpet sounded somewhere to the east, then sounded again. Another trumpet echoed the first one from somewhere to the west. The one to the west was closer, but the eastward trumpet had sounded first, indicating that someone over there had the rank to give orders.
As I drifted that direction in search of the source of those orders, two clusters of auras below me discovered each other and opened fire. The cluster using AK's was somewhat larger and luckier; a number of the M-16 users stopped returning fire almost immediately.
Dropping to empty a borrowed AK where it seemed likely to do the most good, I then lifted thirty feet and flitted behind a tree even as I realized that I seemed to be sensing something about someone below.
Another vampire? A VC vampire? No. It didn't feel quite like one of us. Two rounds slammed into my tree and many more passed near it as the muzzle flash from one VC's weapon lit up the night. Somehow, someone down there could see me.
I got low along the big branch and scooted farther behind the tree, suddenly wishing I had another grenade. One of the VC auras below was crawling in my direction.
Lifting would just give him an easy shot at me and he was too far away to chance making a dash for him. Besides, everybody was still shooting and rounds were flying everywhere down there. I took out my .45 and waited for him get a little closer.
Crawling sideways to keep the tree between us, I spotted two bodies in a foxhole. There was enough moonlight to see that both wore steel helmets. Damn. Dropping into the hole, I checked them for grenades. Damn again. Putting my .45 away and taking one of their rifles, I dropped the magazine. It was heavy. Full or close to it. Good.
Sliding the magazine back into the rifle, I propped both of the guys up in front of me, then aimed between them at the VC, who'd hunkered behind a tree some distance away.
The VC's aura was blurry, with a reddish hue or tinge that I'd never seen before. And he'd been able to aim at me. Had I found a sensitive? The VC's aura suddenly dove flat on the ground and rolled directly behind another nearby tree too quickly for me to get a shot at him.
He said something and received an answer from someone behind him, then two more VC began inching in my direction. One of them knelt upright behind a tree, preparing to toss a grenade.
I aimed at the sliver of his aura that was visible around the tree and waited. When he leaned out slightly to make his throw, I fired a three-round burst at him and dropped flat in the hole. The other two VC instantly opened fire on my position.
When the grenade went off out there I heard a scream, then what sounded to me like Viet swearing. Risking a quick peek above the edge of the hole, I saw the red-tinged aura roll to yet another tree. The other two auras were down and one was fading quickly; the grenade had apparently gone off between them.
In a flash of insight it occurred to me -- at last! -- that my ghost mode might not be helping me one damned bit; in fact, it might be making me more visible to a sensitive than I'd have been without it. I switched it off and kept an eye on the VC's aura as I rolled out of the hole and crawled into the surrounding bush.
Could he still see me? As I stood up behind a tree, I remembered how Anna's nearness had set off my alarm bells and decided that even if he couldn't see me, he could likely sense me well enough to spray my area with rifle fire.
'Speaking of which...' I thought as he emptied a magazine around my tree. Something yanked at my sleeve and I looked to check my right arm. No hole in me, but there was now a draft on that side.
When I heard the VC drop the spent magazine, I leaned out slightly to fire back at him, but he was too well concealed behind the tree, so I held my fire. At the very bottom of the tree a head-sized bit of his aura quickly poked out, then withdrew. Again, it had been too quick to take aim, but he'd have to expose himself a little to shoot at me.
Someone fired a short burst from an M-16 perhaps twenty yards away to my right. There were two auras in that foxhole. I decided to see if I could lead the VC to a more vulnerable position and leaped quickly behind the nearest tree to head that direction.
The VC followed me, holding his fire and waiting for an opportunity to nail me. As I recalled how I'd felt when first confronted by a vampire in the jungle, I wondered if I'd have had the nerve then to track one through the bush. I mentally awarded the VC a couple of medals for courage.
Nearing the Americans' position, I stepped behind a tree and whispered, "Coming in."
Someone ahead whispered, "Six."
"Eight," I returned. "A Charlie's tracking me. I'll lead him past you."
"Got it. Sarge?"
"Yeah. Andrews?"
"Yeah, how 'bout that? Small world. Go for it."
Instead of moving directly past his position, I moved away from it slightly as I dodged from tree to tree. When I was thirty yards or so beyond them, the VC was perhaps half that distance ahead of them and well into position.
Going to ghost mode behind a tree, I flared and lifted myself to expand my aural effect beyond the tree's trunk. The VC fired a full magazine, hoping to hit some part of me that he thought he was seeing.
Two short bursts of M-16 fire sounded and a rifle clattered. When I glanced out, I saw the VC topple sideways from behind his tree, his aura fading fast.
Unghosting and making my way back to Andrews, I stopped to whisper, "Coming in."
"Ten," said Andrews.
"Four," I said.
Moving ahead, I looked to see who belonged to the other aura in the hole. I expected to find Hardesty, but it was Cartwright, a radioman from 3rd platoon.
"If you're lookin' for the LT," said Andrews, "He's back that way." Thumbing back over his shoulder, he added, "He was hit when the shitstorm landed on us, and..."
"I'll go have a look at him," I interrupted. "How's your ammo?"
"Need some. We been kinda busy 'round here tonight."
Nodding, I said, "There's some not far away. I'll toss it over to you."
Stepping well into the bush, I ghosted and flitted back to the two dead GI's, grabbed the other rifle and their ammo, and dropped the stuff by Andrews' hole before I went looking for Hardesty.
He was lying in a hole about fifteen yards away, apparently unconscious. With him was another GI, face down. Between them lay four grenades. The other guy had two full magazines in his right pouch. Stuffing those magazines in my pockets, I then turned to see what I could do for Hardesty.
There was nothing to do that Calumet hadn't already done about the wounds in Hardesty's shoulder and thigh. As I pulled my hand away from LT's shoulder bandage, his eyes opened and his left hand came up and caught my wrist.
His right hand came up holding a bayonet. It plunged into my left side and I swore aloud as I pulled away from him. Standing up, I stomped his right hand to the ground and stood on his wrist as I pried the bayonet out of his grip.
As he feebly struggled to free his wrist, he stared up as if looking through me in a combination of terror and rage, then something in his chest popped audibly. His mouth fell open, then he groaned as a bolt of agony coursed through him.
Time to find some help. By now there'd be an aid station set up somewhere in camp. I wearily lifted to look for it, realizing as I did so that I'd already been ghosting and flying too long. My virus had been agitating a bit before, but now it was bitching at me. And now I had a hole in my side, so the bitching would get louder real fast. Damn it, LT!
Straight up I went, then I scanned the area. A bit less than a hundred yards west was a cluster of auras surrounded by the smaller clusters of a perimeter. I went that direction and found men in helmets, so I landed behind a tree, unghosted, and said, "Coming in."
"Eleven," someone answered.
"Three."
"Come ahead slow."
I did so, clutching my side as if in agony. Two guys rose up to pull me down with them. One of them yanked up my shirt and looked at what was left of the hole LT's bayonet had made.
"Doesn't look too bad," he said, then he pointed to the left and behind. "The aid station's about fifty yards that way. Can you make it?"
Nodding, I said, "Yeah. Listen, there's an LT in a hole about a hundred yards due east. He's hit bad. No Chucks around there right now, but..."
Thumbing over his shoulder at the larger cluster of auras, he said, "Tell somebody back there. We can't leave our positions."
Moving beyond them, I stood up and tried to ignore my barking, bitching virus. About halfway to the main cluster of auras a nearby aura said, "Get your ass down, man! This ain't no goddamned parade field!"
As I walked past, I chuckled and said, "You forgot to pick a number."
Another aura said, "Shit. He's right, Portman. Twelve."
"Two," I said. "Happy?"
"Happy enough I won't shoot your ass, I guess. Where you goin'?"
"Aid station. Need some guys to go get an LT."
"That way," he said, pointing. "Look for Fox or Brandon."
Pressing onward, I found about thirty guys dug in around a larger hole. Again pretending agony, I asked for Fox or Brandon in a rasping voice. Someone stepped forward in the darkness.
"I'm Lieutenant Brandon," said one of the auras. "Why are you looking for me?"
"LT Hardesty is hit bad. He's in a hole about a hundred and twenty yards that way," -- I pointed with my rifle -- "And I need... to find a medic."
The LT told a sergeant to see to Hardesty. The guy said, "I'm on it, sir," and left, then Brandon turned back to me and pointed to his left. "The medics are right over there. Who are you and what's your outfit?"
"Uh, Calumet, sir," I said, moving the direction he'd indicated, "Corporal. 3rd platoon."
"Well, stick around, Calumet. I'll want to know what happened and why you aren't out there with your LT."
Acting as if my wound was bothering me greatly, I said, "He's from 2nd platoon. I couldn't do anything for him, so I went for help."
"Just go get fixed," said Brandon. "Then see Sgt. Harris."
"Yes, sir," I said, and moved away.
Overhead I saw Anna's whitish-gold aura. She undoubtedly wondered what the hell I was doing on the ground and why I wasn't busy hunting VC. I couldn't ghost and lift in the middle of a command area, so I continued toward the aid tent.
The results of our most recent conflicts were the wounded awaiting medevac. Brislet and Pressman recognized me when I arrived, so I told them I'd just run an errand and was taking a break, then pitched in to help as needed. I worked my way around the tent, watching for an opportunity to snag a half-used baggie.
Two of the guys on stretchers had no discernable auras, so I stood by the body bags and waited as the medics moved among the stretchers checking people.
When they reached the first dead guy, they glanced toward the body bags as I'd known they would and saw me. One of them raised a hand and pointed at the bag box, then raised a finger to indicate 'one'. The other medic said something and the first one raised another finger.
I nodded and took them two body bags, then gathered up the half-used blood bags and headed for the trash pit, stuffing the two used bags into my shirt.
My virus was really screaming at me now. I muttered, "Just hang on one more goddamned minute, okay?"
Someone asked, "What? You okay, man?"
"Yeah," I said. "Just tired as hell, that's all."
"Aren't we all," he said as he went back to work dressing a leg wound.
Continuing through the doorway, I moved some distance into the darkness beyond and removed the IV needles from the tubings, then muttered, "You can shut up, now, dammit," as I fed my virus.
The first half-full baggie mostly quieted my virus. The second baggie made me feel recharged to a degree. Looking around to be sure nobody was paying any attention to me, I ghosted, then dropped the empty bags in the tent's trash pit and went to see if they'd found Hardesty yet.
Nope. When I arrived at the hole six searchers were some distance away and proceeding slowly past us as they watched and listened for the VC. Hardesty seemed again to be unconscious. I nudged his leg, then his arm. Limp. No response. Glancing around, I saw no auras other than those of the searchers.
I stepped behind a tree and softly said, "He's over here, guys."
All the searchers reacted by facing my direction, ready to fire. One of them said in a rather high-pitched whisper, "Three!"
"Eleven," I replied.
There was motion by my feet. When I looked down, Hardesty was staring starkly up at my tree. Shit. Had he been faking again? Remembering what Anna had said about being discovered, I laid my borrowed rifle in the hole next to Calumet, again thinking, 'Damn it, LT!'
When I flitted to another tree, Hardesty continued staring at the one I'd left. It occurred to me that he hadn't really seen me at all, but he'd heard my voice. Would he think he'd been hearing things?
The searchers found the hole, checked LT and Calumet over, then loaded them both and their gear on stretchers and started back the way they'd come. I lifted to find Anna.
Chapter Ten
Things had calmed down considerably. The VC -- rarely up for a serious confrontation involving large numbers of troops -- had retreated and the Americans had dug in for the night. I saw Anna's aura dive into the jungle and headed that way.
Below were seven common auras and hers. She moved among them in the darkness as I descended. Three of them lay fading as she headed for the fourth one. Maybe he'd heard something or thought he'd seen something; whatever, he opened fire at her, or so it seemed from above.
Fearing Anna had been hit, I landed damned near on top of the shooter, grabbed his shirt, and hit him so hard his skull collapsed on one side. The two other VC stood staring at the guy momentarily, unable to understand what had happened to him.
When I let my victim go, he fell flat on his back and one of the other VC hurried over to see what was wrong with him. As I plunged my bayonet into the approaching VC, Anna's gold-white aura flashed above me and she impaled the other one on her dagger even as she touched down.
Turning to me, she asked, "What were you doing in the camp?"
"Making arrangements to have Lt. Hardesty picked up. He was hit."
I debated whether to tell her the rest of the story, but not very long.
"Anna, he may have recognized my voice. Unless he thinks he was hallucinating, that is. He'd lost a lot of blood and he'd been hit twice."
She stared at me for a moment, then said, "Let's talk about it over a snack. I'm running pretty low."
Grabbing my latest victim by a wrist, I lifted him to the concealing branches of a nearby big tree. When Anna had joined me there, we unshipped our cups and I turned the VC over to drain a bit.
When her cup was full and she'd made herself reasonably comfortable on her branch, Anna said, "Now tell me about it."
I filled my own cup, then rolled the VC on his back so he wouldn't run dry.
"Hardesty faked unconsciousness. When I checked his bandages, he stabbed me. I went for help, snagged a couple of half-used baggies at the aid station to tide me over, and then went back out there to make sure they found him."
Taking a moment for a long sip, I continued, "He seemed out cold when I got back to him. This time I even kicked him to make sure. Hell, that may be what woke him up. After I called the search team over, I saw him looking up at my tree."
"You were ghosting at the time, weren't you?"
"Yeah, but like I said, he knows my voice, Anna."
She shrugged. "Peoples' minds do strange things under stress. Visit him when this is over and see how it goes. He won't be out of reach."
I nodded and sipped, not wanting to hear what she'd left unsaid.
"Something else happened tonight, too," I said, "One of the VC could sense or see me well enough to shoot at me in ghost mode. He had a normal aura, but it had a reddish tinge to it."
"You ran into a sensitive," said Anna. "Where is he now?"
"Dead. I led him past Andrews' position and tricked him into firing."
As I sipped again, she asked, "Tricked who? The VC or Andrews?"
Glancing at her, I saw her grinning at me. The fact that a sensitive had been killed rather than converted apparently meant nothing to her. That would mean that there was no standing order to create more vampires whenever possible.
"The VC, milady. Since he could see me best in ghost mode, I lifted to give him a big, fat target and Andrews got him when he fired at me."
Anna nodded and held out her empty cup for a refill. I rolled the VC over to refill both our cups, then let him fall. A couple of M-16's fired when he crashed to the ground.
"Jumpy, aren't they?" chuckled Anna.
Her aura was becoming more gold than white again. Mine responded to hers.
"Amazing," I said. "I can't think of anyplace less romantic, yet here we sit building up a case of the hornies."
"Romance has nothing to do with it," she said, tossing down the rest of her drink. "I'd like to freshen up first. Let's go find that stream I saw on the way here. Come on."
"Give me a moment to retrieve my rifle. I left it in a tree."
"You didn't think you'd need it?"
"Nope. They aren't hard to come by out here."
We found the stream within minutes and followed it for a few more minutes to find a fairly wide spot well away from any human activity. Anna doffed her clothes and sprawled in the cool, shallow water and I joined her in letting the cool water rush over us and staring up at the stars.
Some touching and kissing led to other things, and an hour or so later we lay spent on the streambank. Anna stretched as she sat up, then again got flat in the stream's rushing current. After a couple of slugs of coffee from my canteen, I joined her there and we again lay quietly stargazing for some time.
"You're awfully quiet," said Anna. "Thinking you should be getting back to camp? Afraid you'll miss the action?"
"Nope. This is action enough for now. This war was going on long before I got here and it'll go on just fine when I'm gone. And we did a helluva job on the VC tonight. We deserve a break."
"The others aren't getting a break."
"They're still alive. That's a break. They'll be able to get some sleep. That's a break, too." Turning to look at her, I asked, "What's on your mind, milady?"
She gave me a small grin and said, "You are, obviously. That's why I'm here."
"Well, gee, thanks, ma'am, but I don't hustle quite that easily. Do you have something you want to ask me?"
"I was just wondering where you stand on some things."
"What things?"
Glancing at me, she said, "Things like where your loyalties lie, and to what degrees they apply to various things. Like the Army. Like this war, but you've already answered that. Like being a vampire. Like Hardesty."
I sat up and watched the water rush around us for a moment, then asked, "Are you're asking if I'll kill him? No."
She sighed softly. "Someone else would."
"Figured that, so it doesn't have to be me. He wasn't in the best of condition out there, Anna. He'll probably decide it was some sort of hallucination."
Anna sat up, as well, and put a hand on my shoulder.
"Let's hope so," she said. "What time is it?"
Pulling the velcro flap on my watch cover to look, I said, "Nearly two."
Sighing, Anna got to her feet and lightly slapped my shoulder.
"C'mon, Sarge. I'll be lucky to get four hours of sleep tonight."
As she moved to pick up her clothes, I said, "Probably about the same for me. At least you'll get yours in a bed."
"Ah," she said as I followed her, "Sorry 'bout that, GI."
Stepping into my pants, I chucklingly replied, "Yeah, right. Thanks for caring, Major, ma'am."
She answered me with a chuckle of her own.
A few kisses later we parted ways above the stream and I headed back to the American encampment, wondering how best to convince Hardesty that he'd been mistaken, should it become necessary.
Then I wondered what sort of circumstances might make it necessary. It seemed unlikely that he'd risk being thought a nutcase by mentioning to anyone -- myself included -- what he thought he'd seen or heard. Could be he'd say nothing at all and just write it off.
Until I neared the US encampment, I saw no sign of the VC. It was as if they'd all gone home for the night. Then I heard a soft 'clunk' sort of sound off to my left from an area of heavy cover. I detoured to have a look.
Three auras seemed to be hunkered in some kind of conference maybe a hundred yards from the US perimeter. I descended to a low branch to see what was going on and found a VC mortar team setting up shop.
Couldn't put my M-16's selector switch on automatic without spooking them. Settling very quietly to the ground about ten feet from them, I aimed at one of them, closed my eyes so the flash wouldn't ruin my night vision, and fired. As soon as I'd fired, I lifted fast and opened my eyes.
My target was down and fading as the other two guys freaked completely out and dove in separate directions for cover. I followed one a little way into the bush. He crouched behind a tree, his rifle aimed back the way he'd come.
The other guy was doing the same thing some twenty feet away. I put myself where the first guy's tree would protect me from the second guy's fire and aimed my rifle at the first guy.
Closing my eyes again, I fired, then lifted quickly as I opened them. The VC had been knocked to the left and onto his side. He fired half a magazine blindly in the direction he'd seen my flash, then went limp as his aura faded away.
I flitted through the trees toward the last guy, settling to earth behind him, then I decided not to shoot. He might know something useful.
After knocking him cold with my rifle butt, I checked the other two. The one lying on the mortar was dead. The one by the tree was nearly dead. I pulled out my canteen and freed the cup from it, had a hefty snort from the dying VC to top off my reserves, then rinsed my cup from his canteen and put my cup and canteen back in their case.
What to do about the mortar tube? Easy answer. Using a VC's ammo-pack harness, I strapped it to a branch some twenty feet up a tree.
Using the VC's canteen, I watered the face of the remaining live one. He came around slowly at first -- maybe an act? -- but eventually sat up to glare at me. When he saw the mortar dangling above us, his gaze grew puzzled for a time, but he soon settled back into a sullen glare.
It took a few moments to make him understand that I wanted him to carry the mortar rounds, then another few moments to convince him to cooperate, but we were soon ambling toward the American perimeter. I let him lead, of course, placing my feet where he'd placed his until we were near enough to be heard easily, then I called ahead.
"Coming in," I said in a conversational voice. "Got a prisoner in front of me about six feet or so."
"Six," someone replied in a whisper.
"Eight," I said.
"Okay. Come ahead."
The other guy in the hole asked, "Who the hell are you? What the hell were you doing out there? Was that you shooting?"
"Yeah, it was me. Later, okay? Gotta get this guy to camp."
After a quick visual verification, they let us through as one of them used a radio. A Captain Baranski trotted up to meet me at the inner perimeter and detailed two men to take the prisoner somewhere, then I told them about the mortar in the tree and the two other VC.
Fifteen minutes later someone radioed and a guy from 2nd platoon who was going off-watch came to show me where they'd camped. In order to avoid missing any more sleep, I said nothing on the way about the prisoner, but Captain Drake had already been told by radio.
"Do you want to tell me about it now or would you rather try to get some sleep?" he asked.
"Sleep, Cap. They've got him. Tomorrow's soon enough."
"Okay by me. Andrews showed up earlier. He and Nelson are over there. One of them can find you a place to crash. Good job, by the way."
Heading the direction he pointed, I said, "Thanks, Cap."
Nelson was asleep and Andrews hadn't heard about the prisoner, but I'd been missing for a couple of hours. Andrews had questions as I got flat and relatively comfortable under a poncho lean-to they'd cobbled together.
"I was just out wandering around in the dark," I said. "I'll tell you about it tomorrow, okay? If you want to know anything right this minute, see Drake. Now I'm gonna crash, man. See you tomorrow."
"Hey, wait a minute. I saved your ass out there when you was playin' tag with that VC, didn't I?"
"Nope. I just handed you that one to help you boost your score."
With an amused grunt, Andrews said, "That's bull-shit, man. He was followin' you like you was draggin' him on a leash."
Taking off my boots, I said, "Hey, I had to make it easy for him. He didn't seem quite as sharp as his buddies. Probably a newbie."
"Newbies don't move that good."
"That well," I said.
"Huh?"
"That well. 'Newbies don't move that well.' Good night, Andrews."
Shaking his head as he moved away, he said, "Up yours, Sarge. Later."
Chapter Eleven
Want to get to sleep fast? Envision your way into it. I recalled running my fingers over Anna's skin. The touch of her lips on mine. Her eyes. The envisionings became dreams. Somewhere in the midst of the dreams Anna sprouted fangs as she grinned down at me. I didn't care; she was grinning because she was using me to tickle her inner fancies...
...and suddenly someone was kicking my foot and saying, "Time to rise and shine, hero. Up and at 'em and all that gung-ho stuff. Drake wants to see you at commo. You awake yet?"
Anna disappeared like fog on the wind as I lost the dream.
"Yeah, yeah. I'm awake," I muttered. "You can go the hell away now."
"Woo. We don't exactly wake up singing, do we, Sergeant?"
Hm. He'd emphasized on the last word. That can't be good. I opened my eyes and rolled over to see blastingly bright sunshine and a butterbar lieutenant looking down at me and two guys nearby waiting to see how the encounter would end.
"Sorry, LT," I said, "But, no, we don't wake up well at all when we're yanked away from dreams about a gorgeous redhead boffing our brains out. I'm sure you can understand, since that sort of thing happens to officers all the time. Right?"
He grinningly and overly enthusiastically agreed, then asked, "How the hell did you get that mortar up in that tree?"
Sitting up under the poncho lean-to, I asked, "You know about that, huh? Well, LT, I really can't say. Everything happened so fast, you know. It was kind of dark, too, as I recall."
"Uh, huh. Well, try to remember. I'd like to know sometime."
He left and I got up to see about taking a leak and finding some coffee. Andrews was asleep nearby and Nelson wasn't in sight. Good. I checked my watch. Almost nine? Either the Army was really slipping or Drake had told people to let me sleep late.
At the mess tent I filled my coffee canteen and my cup, then headed for one of the folding tables to tap a helmetful of blister-bag water and use my toothbrush. I opted against shaving; neither Anna nor Marian was scheduled to visit later, and I thought it unlikely that anyone else would give a damn.
As I approached the commo tent I saw Drake talking to three other guys and waited a safe distance away, sipping my coffee. After a minute or so, Drake noticed me and motioned for me to join him as the others headed in different directions.
"I'm sending you back to the base for some things," he said. "Have someone run the stuff out here, then I want you to go see how Hardesty's doing. They took him to 3rd Surgical early this morning."
"I saw his wounds, Cap. They'll be shipping him back to the States."
"Figured that, but if he's at all functional, I'd like for him to straighten out his company affairs before he goes and help the new guy get settled."
"He has a chest wound, Cap. Even if the round missed his lung, they aren't going to let him out of bed until they're sure he won't start bleeding again. That's at least two weeks in med holding. Maybe more."
Drake shrugged. "So? Can't let him get bored, can we? Someone can take the paperwork to him and the new LT can spend some time with him. See Lt. Brandon for the list and catch the next bird back. He may become the new XO, by the way. Later, Sarge."
He actually saluted first, wonder of wonders. I returned the salute and stepped into the shade of the commo tent as he walked away.
'Brandon?' Oh, damn. Another chance to be recognized or remembered, and if so, by the wrong name. Who was I when I ran into Brandon? Oh, yeah. Calumet. Corporal. 3rd platoon. Dead. Damn.
But when I found Brandon, he was too busy redirecting his units to take much immediate note of me. After waving me to a chair and handing me a list, he continued his last-minute instructions to a group of NCO's.
On the way to the helicopter he said, "You look vaguely familiar."
"You may have seen me delivering supplies, LT. I get around some."
By then we were boarding the bird. Brandon sat rigidly in the middle of the helicopter, tightly strapped in and staring hard at the rack in front of him. If he looked out either door during the flight, I didn't see him do it.
Once we were on the ground again, he said, "I'll probably be your new XO in a couple of days, Sergeant. Nobody here needs to know how I feel about flying, right?"
I shrugged. "No problem. I won't say anything, but it won't be much of a secret very long. Don't worry about it, LT. You got on the bird anyway and now that you're on the ground again, you're fine. Mission accomplished and all that. But you might want to be up front with the men about this."
Brandon stopped walking. So did I, and when I turned, he glared at me for a moment before speaking.
"I don't need your advice on personal matters, Sergeant."
Walking up to him, I asked softly, "Did you just ask me not to mention something that will become common knowledge the first time you get in a bird with anyone else here? LT, these guys will respect you for conquering a fear, but they'd laugh themselves sick watching you try to pretend there's no problem."
As he took a breath to respond, I said, "LT, my only real advice to you is to take good advice wherever and whenever it's offered and don't give your NCO's a hard time when they offer it. Let them help you. That's what we're for." As an afterthought, I said, "Talk to Hardesty about us."
I turned and headed for the CO's office. After a moment I heard footsteps behind me, so when I opened the office door, I held it for him. He glanced at me as he passed, but said nothing.
As soon as we'd assembled a crew to load the supplies on a couple of pallets, I called Anna Corinth's office. She was on the ward, so Carter took the message that I'd be visiting 3rd Surgical later in the day. Ten minutes later Anna called me back and said that if I arrived before noon, we'd go to lunch, but if I showed up later, I might be put to work.
Turning the supply matter over to a Spec.5 named Phillips, I went to take a shower and to shave, after all. When I reappeared in Drake's office in clean khakis and tossed my field gear in a corner, Brandon raised an eyebrow at me.
"Why are you all spiffed up, Sergeant? We're probably just going to get a few minutes with Hardesty, then we'll be heading back to the bush."
"Well, that's a possibility, sir, but another possibility is that I'll be going to lunch with a couple of cute nurses."
His gaze narrowed as he glanced at the phone in Drake's office.
"That phone call... You were setting up a lunch date?"
"Yup. Fact is, you might want to spiff up a bit before you meet them, since one is a captain and the other's a major."
He looked at me for a moment as if wondering whether I was sane, then asked, "You're telling me that you'll be going to lunch with two command-grade officers?"
"No, LT. I'm telling you that WE will be going to lunch with them. If you'll take a bath and change before we leave, that is."
"Why would two officers be going to lunch with you, Sergeant?"
"That's our business, LT. You should be asking why you've been invited."
His gaze narrowed again and he asked, "All right; why?"
I shrugged. "Why not? They're friends and it'll be lunchtime. A break from the war in fine feminine company. Are you coming with us or not?"
After another moment of staring at me, he got up and headed for the door with the words, "Okay. I'll get ready while you take care of the supplies, but this had better not be some kind of joke, Sergeant."
Once the supplies were on their way to Drake, Brandon and I caught a bird to 3rd Surgical and arrived at about ten-thirty. At the ICU ward, we were told to come back around two, so I called Anna's office at eleven.
"I brought along an LT named Brandon who doesn't yet believe that you exist, I think."
"In what respect?" asked Anna.
"Well, ma'am, why don't I let him try to explain that? He's right here."
"Okay. Put him on."
I handed the phone to Brandon.
He put it to his ear and said, "Hello? This is Lt. Charles Brandon. To whom am I speaking?"
"Major Anna Corinth," I heard Anna say. "Ward seven. Do you have any sort of problem with our enlisted friend having lunch with us?"
"Uh, well, no, ma'am. I'm, uh... Sure you have your reasons."
"We certainly do. Are you finished for the moment in ICU?"
"Uh, yes, ma'am."
"Good. Put our friend back on, please."
Taking the phone when Brandon handed it to me, I asked, "Well, what do you think? Should I just park him somewhere or bring him along?"
Anna laughed. "Bring him. He's manageable. See you in a few."
"Yes, ma'am, milady. On our way."
As I hung up the phone and we headed for the main hallway, Brandon said, "She sounds kind of tough."
"No damned doubt about it. She can be very tough, LT."
"I mean... Well, what does she look like?"
"Tall. Red hair. Green eyes. Freckles. Great big fangs."
He laughed at that and asked, "Really? Red hair and green eyes?"
I nodded. "Yup. Classic Irish, huh?"
"Guess so. How about the other one? The captain?"
"Brunette, not as tall, very attractive." I glanced at him and asked, "You are going to behave yourself, aren't you?"
Giving me a fisheye look, he asked, "What?"
"You know; be a gentleman and like that. Don't say things like, 'pass the fucking salt, please'."
He tried not to laugh aloud in the hallway and failed.
"Do you say things like that to anyone above the rank of lieutenant?"
"Sure, with reasonable caution, of course. LT, if we aren't going to get along, now's the time to find out. Now, before it would have any affect on matters like how we conduct our little chunk of the war. You just got here a month ago. I head back to the States in January, so we've got about the same time left in country. I don't want to spend it working with guys like Lt. Sauder. Of course, if you're one of those, you wouldn't be with us long, anyway. Drake would trade you to some other outfit."
"You don't think much of Lt. Sauder, I take it?"
"Do you? That would answer everybody's questions real quick."
"Everybody?"
"The other NCO's. The men. Word's likely already spread that you're up for XO. If you're like Sauder, you won't be particularly popular."
As we neared ward seven's doors, he said, "I'm not like Sauder. I don't take any crap, but I don't lean on the regs for every little thing. Bend them a little if you have to, but don't break them without excellent reasons. I don't pull Friday locker inspections or Wednesday morning weapons inspections, either."
He looked at me and added, "But I've been known to tell an NCO to check out someone in particular. Ever hear of Private Peyton Miller?"
Nodding, I said, "Yup. He pulled the trigger and nothing happened. He kept his stash in a modified magazine, as I heard it, and was so stoned during a sweep that he forgot to put in a real one. They flushed a Charlie and the Charlie popped him. He was a druggie. No loss."
Brandon stated, "And now I know a little something about you, Sergeant. I think we'll get along well enough."
When we entered ward seven, Sgt. Carter stood up as we approached, evidently slightly confused about whether to be her usual friendly self or act in a more formal manner.
"Sgt. Carter," I said, "We're here to see Major Corinth and Captain Hartley."
"I'll let them know you're here," she said, then headed for Anna's office and knocked on the door. She then returned to lead us to the same door and closed it behind us.
Anna and Marian stood up as we approached. Brandon's eyes were a bit wide as they flicked from Anna to Marian and back a few times. After I introduced everybody, Marian suggested that we see about some lunch.
"I took the liberty of inviting a friend, too," said Marian. "Connie Barret from next door in ward six. She's a lieutenant, too, and she's new to 3rd Surge, so take it easy with the war stories." She turned to me and thumbed at Brandon as she asked, "Ed, what kind of man is he?"
Looking at Brandon, I chuckled and said, "My immediate impression is that he'll be very uncomfortable about you calling me by my first name for a while yet, but he may get over it with time. What he told me in the hallway leads me to believe that any druggies who wind up in his outfit will wish they'd never been born, which is fine with me." Turning to face her again, I added, "And he took a chance that I wasn't playing a joke on him by inviting him along."
"A joke?" Anna asked somewhat sharply.
Nodding, I said, "Yup. He said -- and I quote -- 'This had better not be some kind of a joke, Sergeant,' but I'd guess that seeing you two command-grade goddesses has eased his mind about that possibility."
Brandon saw the look in Anna's eyes and almost crossed himself as he agreed, "Uh, yes, definitely. What he said about you ladies just sounded too good to be true, that's all."
Marian snickered and said, "Good answer, Lt. Brandon." To me she remarked, "Command-grade goddesses?"
"Well, I think rather highly of both of you, you know."
"Sure sounds like it. Thanks, Ed. Now, let's go. I skipped breakfast."
Chapter Twelve
I moved to get the door and Brandon again gave me an odd look in passing, his eyebrow raised above a sort of 'what the hell?' expression. I gave him a shrug and a grin, pulled the door shut, and we walked with the ladies to the next ward.
Connie was a nice-looking blonde about five-five tall. She had blue eyes, cupid's-bow lips, and filled her blouse pretty well, indeed. She wasn't a vampire, as I'd half-expected she might be, and didn't seem quite as attractive -- to me, anyway -- as Anna or Marian.
On the other hand, she looked and spoke like a good, solid person, and Brandon almost immediately seemed to find something interesting about Connie above and beyond the way she filled her uniform blouse.
As we headed to the mess hall, Anna said, "I'm declaring a moratorium on matters of rank for the moment. During lunch it's first names only unless someone not of our group stops by. If anyone here objects, now's the time to bail out."
Looking at Brandon, she asked, "Charles? No objection to calling him Ed for an hour or so?"
He glanced at me, then around the little group, then said, "I think I can probably manage that, but call me Gordon." With a grin, he added, "That's my middle name and the one I've been using among friends since I found out that we were fighting Charlies over here."
Anna smiled and said, "Good enough. Gordon it is. Anybody else?"
There were no other objections. We pressed onward to the mess hall, loaded our trays, and picked a table. I seated Anna and Marian on one side of the table as Gordon seated Connie on the other.
When I took a seat between Anna and Marian, our arrangement didn't go unnoticed, but Gordon said nothing about it then or later.
Our table talk digressed in many directions concerning the way things were going with the war, politics and protests in the States, and some of the benefits and limitations of being in the military.
Gordon and I found ourselves in firm agreement on many issues having to do with running a military unit and he seemed to find a particular enjoyment in Connie's humor and personality.
When we'd finally run out of both food and time and were preparing to leave the mess hall, Gordon asked Connie if he might drop by to see her the next time he came to 3rd Surgical.
With a grin, she said, "Yes, I think I'd like that, Gordon."
Anna, Marian, and I politely applauded her decision and his success, then Marian said she really had to get back to work, because her boss was a real slavedriver.
Giving her a fisheye look, Anna remarked, "Oh, really? Remember you said that about your boss when you wind up counting bedpans, Captain."
Marian leaned to speak confidentially and said, "Uhm, Major, ma'am, ward seven doesn't have any bedpans to count."
"I may borrow some just for you," said Anna. Turning to the rest of us, she said, "But she's right. It's time to break this up and get back to work."
We walked back to ward seven, where we said our goodbyes, then Gordon and I headed back to the ICU.
Along the way I said, "LT, I think you made an impression. Connie really seems to like you."
He looked at me and asked, "What does Captain Drake call you?"
"Sarge. Everybody calls me Sarge. I think my last name is too much for some of the guys."
Nodding, he said, "Okay. Sarge, I don't discuss my personal affairs, particularly those concerning women. Not even with other officers."
"No discussion, LT. I'm the same way. That was just a positive comment and best wishes. She seems like a woman well worth knowing, and if I were you I'd be feeling pretty lucky right about now."
After a glance at me, he said, "She is nice, isn't she? Did you know your friends would ask her along?"
"Nope. Surprised me, too. Need anything from the PX? I need to pick up a few things and restock my book supply."
Brandon said he could probably use a few things, too, and we killed most of the difference 'till two o'clock in the PX.
On the way to ICU, he asked, "How did you meet Major Corinth and Captain Hartley?"
I gave some thought to my answer and came up with, "Corinth and Hartley aren't just nurses to me, LT. We have the perpetuation of someone's survival under very unusual circumstances in common."
Prompting me, he said, "Sounds like an interesting story so far. Was he one of the patients here?"
I looked at Brandon and said, "No, he wasn't, but he was employed by the US government. LT, what's your security clearance?"
With a grin, he said, "Higher than yours, I'd imagine."
Grinning back, I said, "As a senior medic, I may have to work with the medical and personal records of personnel of all ranks, services, and occupations, so don't count on that. Let me put it this way, sir; if necessary, I can call for an immediate clearance from a one-star general to handle or transport certain types of documents, some of which I couldn't discuss even with Captain Drake. An example might be intel documents found on a downed pilot. Or on a field intelligence operative who was injured during a mission on my turf."
That eyebrow went up at me again and he said, "I see."
Nodding, I said, "The circumstances surrounding my affiliation with Corinth and Hartley involve people and things I'm not allowed to talk about at all, LT. Not at all. Sorry."
He shook his head slightly and said, "No problem. I've had the lectures about loose lips and sunk ships."
I felt pretty damned good, really. Every single thing I'd told him had been a precise truth in its own right and I'd deterred his questions about Anna, Marian, and me by allowing him to draw his own conclusions.
Hardesty was awake and lucid when we arrived, but obviously in considerable discomfort from both his wounds and his immobilization.
Grinning at him, I said, "Hi, LT. I heard you held off the entire Red Army by yourself last night. I think that ought to be worth at least a few days off, but Drake wants you back at your desk tomorrow morning."
"Well, you can tell him it won't happen," said Hardesty, grinning back at me. "Here I've got myself a real bed, a pretty nurse to wash me, and air conditioning. I'm taking myself a break, by God."
Brandon asked, "How are you feeling, Hardesty?"
With a sardonic chuckle, Hardesty said, "Brandon, I have a bullet hole in my leg and one just like it in my shoulder and I seem to be allergic to all the best painkillers. Other than that, I'm in great shape."
After some further pleasantries, Brandon said that he was supposed to tape Hardesty's recollections of the night before. When he asked me to get a tape recorder from the MP office down the hall, Hardesty stopped him.
"Brandon, I'd like to talk to Sarge for a few minutes about a personal matter. Would you mind if I asked you to go for the recorder?"
"Uh, no. Of course not. How long will you need?"
Hardesty almost shrugged, then caught himself before he could move his injured shoulder too far.
"Not long," he grunted. "A few minutes should do it."
Brandon nodded and said, "Sure. Be right back."
"Leave the door open, okay? The nurses like to be able to see me when they go by. I think they're afraid I'll die or something."
"Sure," said Brandon. "Later."
Once he'd left the room, Hardesty faced me and asked, "Who told them where to find me?"
I pretended thoughtfulness and said, "The report says Calumet came in for treatment, told them about you, and then went back out to make sure they found you and got killed."
Hardesty gazed at me for a moment, then said, "I'm afraid that doesn't work for me. Calumet was dead before I got hit."
Shrugging, I said, "Must have been somebody else, then."
He chuckled softly and winced. "Ow. Don't make me laugh, Sarge. I know whose voice I heard say, 'He's over here, guys'. Why don't you want the credit for finding me?"
"Why don't you want to believe that you may be mistaken, LT?"
"Because I'm not. You don't seem to be suffering much today."
"Suffering? From what?"
He sighed and said, "Oh, maybe a bayonet wound? I'm sorry about that. I didn't know it was you."
"I don't have a bayonet wound, LT."
Rather intensely, he said, "Sarge, I know damned well I got you. There was blood on the blade."
"Look, LT, maybe you did stick someone with your bayonet last night, but what the hell makes you think it was me? Don't you think I'd kind of remember something like that?"
Pulling up my shirt, I said, "See? No holes. No cuts. You left a lot of blood out there, LT. Could you maybe have stuck Calumet and didn't realize it?"
Hardesty stared fixedly at me for some moments, then said, "I know what I did. And to whom. And what I heard. You were there, Sarge."
After a couple of moments, I asked, "If you really believe that, you must feel a certain sense of gratitude, right?"
His eyes widened at my question and he said, "Oh, hell, yes! I don't have any reason to believe I'd have lasted another hour, much less the rest of the night."
Nodding, I said flatly, "Then do us both a favor. Go with the report that says Calumet went for help."
"Why, Sarge?"
"Because I'm asking you as a personal favor to forget it, LT. Just drop the whole thing and go live out the rest of the life you think I saved."
He said quietly, "The life I know you saved, Sarge. I can't believe you want it this way, but if you're sure..?"
"Oh, I'm sure, LT. No-damned-doubt-at-all sure."
Hardesty nodded and sighed again.
"Okay, then. You've got it. I just wish you'd tell me why, though. I..."
We heard someone coming down the hall and he didn't say whatever else he'd been about to say. Brandon stopped in the doorway and asked if he'd returned too soon. Hardesty said no and I shook my head.
Brandon put his blank tape in the recorder and plugged it in beside Hardesty's bed, then rattled off a test and played it back. Hardesty again looked at me and I simply looked back at him.
After the usual report preamble of topic, date, time, event, and place, Brandon said, "Okay, ready when you are."
Hardesty described events leading up to enemy action that separated him and four other guys from the rest of 2nd platoon, then how they provided cover fire for two guys from 3rd platoon who joined them to throw back another attack. One of the guys had been Calumet.
"They hit us three times," he said, "Then a grenade went off in the middle of their group during their second assault on our positions and it seemed as if one of their own people fired on them from behind."
He paused for a sip of water, then said, "Calumet, Walters, and I had been hit in the first attack and I got hit again in the second. So did our radio. Just before the third attack, Walters patched us up and then went to help Creek in the next hole. After the attack they didn't answer a headcount. We sat there expecting another attack for maybe fifteen minutes or so before I passed out. Late this morning I woke up here."
Brandon said, "Calumet is the one who told us where to look for you. I sent him to the medics, but he apparently went back out there before he was treated. The medics said he never showed up and we found him in the hole with you and an extra rifle. Anything to add to the report?"
I said thoughtfully, "I think Calumet ought to get a medal, LT."
Hardesty looked at me for a moment, then said, "Of course. And Walters. And Prescott and Jordan, and... Hell, I think everybody who was out there last night should get one."
"A lot of them probably will," said Brandon, flicking off the recorder.
We chatted a while until Hardesty had to take a leak.
"That means using a bedpan," he said, thumbing the call button, "So you guys'll have to wait in the hall."
Looking at his watch, Brandon said, "We really ought to be getting back. It's after three."
"Well, I'll be here for a couple of weeks," said Hardesty. "Drop by again. And bring those nurse friends of yours, Sarge. I'd like to meet them just to see why you're always looking for excuses to come here."
Brandon laughed and said, "I had lunch with them today. Nobody's ever had better excuses for going anywhere."
Staring at me, Hardesty said, "Oh, wow! Now I have to meet them."
I grinned and said, "I'll tell them that you're dying and that meeting them is your last request. They're nurses, so that might strike some kind of a chord with them."
"Good enough. Whatever you think'll work, Sarge."
After a round of handshakes, Brandon and I headed for the door. We returned the tape recorder to the MP office and called flight ops from there to arrange a hop back to base in a gunship heading that direction.
Chapter Thirteen
Brandon seemed somewhat thoughtful and didn't seem inclined to talk much after we left Hardesty's room, so I opened one of my new books as we waited at flight ops for our ride.
That's all you have to do, you know; open a book or try to nap or anything else like that to kill time. The moment you do, someone else will feel an immediate urge to talk.
"Sarge," said Brandon, fiddling with the cassette tape he'd pulled from his shirt pocket, "There's a small problem with Hardesty's report."
Making a minor production of very carefully placing my PX bookmark on page one of the book's introduction, I closed my book before I looked at him and asked, "How so, LT?"
"Calumet," he said, "I saw his body. He took a round right through the heart. That was his only wound, Sarge, and Hardesty said Calumet was hit during an attack. He didn't go anywhere after he was hit."
'Oh, hell,' I thought. 'Here we go again.'
"LT, why didn't you mention that while you were talking to Hardesty?"
"I want to look into things a bit more before I say anything to anyone about something like this."
"The last time I checked, I was as much an anyone as anyone else, LT, and if you think something's fishy about my unit XO's story, do you really think you should be telling me about it?"
Brandon tapped the tape on his knuckles, then said, "I think you've been pretty straight with me so far. Bluntly so at times. Look, either Hardesty was wrong about Calumet being hit during an attack..." he paused and looked at me. "Or someone else showed up in camp and told me he was Calumet. Why would anyone do that?"
I shrugged. "Maybe someone didn't want the publicity. Any awards will usually make the paper back home, sometimes with a picture. Could be someone doesn't want to be quite that famous. Last year I heard about a guy who'd joined the Army to hide from the law. Stockton, from Delta company. His real name was Banner and he was wanted for check fraud in New York and New Jersey."
"How did they find out about him?"
"A pregnant girlfriend. She needed money and he tried to manufacture some by falsifying pay records. That made the Army do the background check that some hungry recruiter didn't do when Banner joined. Fact is, if the guy had just gone to Army Emergency Relief for help, they would have advanced against his pay and he'd very likely still be in the Army."
Brandon made a thoughtful face and tapped the tape on his knuckles again, then stuck it back in his shirt pocket. When he said nothing for some moments, I lifted my book and opened it. That's all it took to make Brandon speak again, of course.
Looking at a poster of downtown Seattle on the far wall, he said, "Sarge, my primary objective is to keep the unit combat-ready. I don't have the time or inclination to play detective, so unless something comes up to change it, Hardesty's report will stand as it is."
When he looked at me, I said, "Sounds good to me, LT."
"I hear you took a VC mortar crewman prisoner early this morning."
"Yup."
After waiting a moment for more about the incident, he chuckled and asked, "Well? Is that all you're going to say about it?"
Shrugging, I said, "I decided not to shoot him and made him carry the ammo."
"Why?" He grinningly held up a hand and said, "Wait. Don't tell me it was because mortar ammo is heavy. I mean; why didn't you shoot him?"
"They were setting up all by themselves. No support. I figured someone would want to know about it."
Nodding, Brandon sat back in his seat and studied me for a few moments, then said, "Anybody else would have shot him. You don't seem to see things quite the way everybody else here sees them. Why is that?"
Shrugging, I said, "Couldn't say, LT. Maybe the common view just doesn't quite cover everything well enough for me."
Whatever else he might have been about to say was interrupted by the clerk rapping on the counter and saying, "Your ride's here. Pad two, look for bird C-924. Gunship."
I finally managed to get about ten minutes of reading done as we waited on the bird through a delay and another fifteen minutes or so on the flight. When we landed, Brandon said to meet him at the CO's office after things were squared away.
An hour later the company clerk had typed up Hardesty's report for Drake. Brandon and I checked it against the tape, then signed that the report was verbatim and went to the mess tent.
After dinner he watched me bottlebrush-clean my coffee canteen, then fill it with coffee from the urn and return it to my field gear.
"What's in the other one?" he asked.
"Plain ol' water, LT. When I check the lines, there are always one or two guys who forgot to fill up or couldn't."
"Mind if I ask you a question?"
"Nope. Go ahead."
"That mortar you found was nearly two hundred yards from the perimeter. What was one of our medics doing way the hell out there?"
I turned to face him and said, "I got separated from the group, so I tried to stay busy. When I ran out of grenades, I grabbed AK's from some of the VC and used their own weapons to confuse the hell out of them and let our guys know where to shoot."
His eyebrow went up. "I've known a few guys who preferred to work alone. Is that how it is?"
Nodding, I said, "Yeah, LT. That's how it is."
"Can anyone back up what you're telling me?"
"Last night's prisoner can. Drake can, if he'll admit to allowing it. Hardesty wasn't happy about it when he found out. Andrews and Nelson know. So do Bates and Springer."
"I see. It's kind of an open secret, then?"
"That's about it. No fanfare, no merit badges. If you become the XO, there's a lot of unofficial stuff you'll probably hear about."
"I see." He came to refill his cup and said, "If what you're doing is more effective than what you might otherwise be doing, I won't have a problem with it as long as nobody else has a problem with it. But I'll need some sort of proof that I can lean on later if necessary."
"You mean proof that we aren't just parking out there and goofing off? LT, Drake is cool with what we do, so that proof has to be for you alone. Why don't you wait until you're our XO before you ask for proof?"
"If you're suggesting that I get lost..."
"I said exactly what I meant, LT. Unless you become our XO, you really don't need to know how we operate or what Drake tolerates in the name of effectiveness."
"And if I were to suggest to Captain Drake that you men needed a bit more supervision? Perhaps even some real accountability?"
Sipping my own coffee, I said, "You'd piss him off and wind up on someone else's doorstep and he'd pick a new XO from the newbie list. But I doubt that would shut you up."
As his mouth opened, I said, "No, don't bother getting fuzzed up. I'm just telling you straight, so you just sit and listen. A good number of last night's VC were done with a bayonet. That may not constitute absolute proof to you, but I think you'll find it fairly convincing, since only four of our positions were overrun and only two people were operating independently outside the perimeter."
"Two of you? Who else was out there?"
"Someone who would definitely wish to remain anonymous, LT. Like I said, if you become our XO, you'll learn more about what we do. Until then, you won't."
He nodded slowly. "Okay. Fair enough. So I'll figure -- what? -- that you guys used your bayonets every time you snatched a VC weapon?"
As our ride to the LZ landed, I said, "Sure, you could figure that. Don't be surprised if the number seems kind of high, though. We keep score, and that makes people competitive."
Brandon gave me a skeptical look as we hefted our field gear and headed away from the chopper, but he said nothing more. At the LZ they were still in the middle of feeding everybody. Brandon went to the commo tent to look for Captain Drake and I went to tell our guys about Hardesty.
Some thirty minutes later Forrest, one of the guys from 2nd platoon, came looking for me and asked, "What's the deal with that new LT? Is he some kind of psycho?"
I laughed. "You're asking me? How the hell would I know?"
"Well, you were around him all day and now he's tryin' to find out how many of last night's body count were bayoneted. I figured you put him up to it. If this is some kind of a newbie joke? What do I tell him?"
"Just tell him like it is."
Forrest shot back, "We just made sure they were dead and stacked 'em, damn it. We didn't look to see how they got it."
"Then go grab a donut or something and let him count for himself."
Shaking his head at the weirdness of it all, Forrest headed for the mess tents. Two holes over, Andrews snickered.
"You put the LT up to that, Sarge?"
"Yup. He was thinking that we might be sitting on our butts out there."
He laughed. "If we take him along some night, he won't think so."
Nelson, in the hole between us and not quite as asleep as I'd thought, muttered, "You got that right. We talkin' about Brandon?"
"The very same," I said. "He knows about my trip outside last night."
"Well, shit," said Andrews. "What'd he say about it?"
"He wanted me to prove I actually accomplished something."
"Well, he ain't our XO yet, so it's none of his business."
Nelson grunted and said, "He can make it his business, Andrews."
Andrews asked, "Any way to shut him down?"
"Not conveniently," I said. "Let's see what he turns up. Could be he'll think it's worthwhile, after all."
Andrews snickered again. "You think he's gonna find all that many VC with bayonet holes, huh?"
"I wasn't alone out there. Could be there are quite a few."
Nelson sat up. "Who was it, Sarge? All our people were accounted for. I know that for a fact 'cause I did the counting."
"I couldn't say, Nelson, but I wasn't the only one hunting."
Andrews said, "Hey, check it out," and pointed to the collection area, where a quiet flurry of activity seemed in progress. Brandon was talking on a radio to someone in a manner that seemed contentious.
One of the guys nearby nodded at Brandon, then started toward us at a trot. Andrews said, "Oh, shit," and shook his head as he turned away from the view. Nelson looked at me, also shook his head, then lay back and pulled his hat back down over his face. A private arrived and asked for me.
"Yo," I said tiredly, "Here. Present. What's up?"
He said, "LT Brandon wants you at collections," then he headed back the way he'd arrived.
As I got to my feet, I saw Drake heading toward collections, too. Oh, great. Wonderful. Andrews shook his head again as I started walking.
About halfway to the collection point, I saw Brandon hand the radio to someone else and speak to Drake, who glanced at me. After another few words, they started walking to an open area and Drake motioned me to join them there.
Doing it right, I walked up and saluted, then waited.
Without preamble, Drake said, "The initial count is fifty-eight. They're doing a recount as we speak. Are you claiming that you and only one other person nailed that many VC with bayonets last night?"
Woo, damn! Anna had been one helluva busy little vampire!
"I'm only sure of one other person working beyond the perimeter, sir."
"Who?" asked Brandon.
"Can't say, sir."
His tone lowered ominously as he said, "That was an order, Sarge."
"I still can't say, sir. I don't know the guys in the other units well enough to guess which of them goes hunting privately."
"Is that what you're calling it? 'Hunting privately?'"
Shrugging, I said, "I guess so, LT. I can't think of a better term."
Drake asked, "Did you actually see the other guy? Are you sure there was only one besides you?"
"Well, I got a glimpse of one other person I know for sure was an American. The VC don't wear helmets. If there was anyone else out there, I didn't see him."
"Jesus," muttered Brandon, staring at me as if seeing a martian.
"No offense, LT, but what difference does it make? Is it suddenly all right only to shoot VC and not all right to stab them? When body counts are low, brigade's on our collective ass like a dirty diaper, raising a stink and giving us all a rash. At the moment, brigade is happy. Very happy. Should we be less happy?"
Drake said, "I'm not sure what I to think at the moment, Sarge. This kind of body count is more than a little strange."
"May I offer my views on this matter, sirs?"
Brandon rolled his eyes at Drake, then said, "Oh, hell, by all means, Sergeant! Yes! Of course! Let's hear your opinion."
Nodding, I took a breath and said, "Okay. I could sit in a hole all night and be a target or a shooter like everybody else, but I truly hate that and I can do a lot more damage if I get out there and mingle a bit."
When no one interrupted, I continued, "So that's what I do. I'd like to continue doing things that way if the alternative is sitting in a hole, waiting for the Chucks to come at me the way they came at everybody else last night. It's just another way to do the job. The Army issued me the bayonet as well as a rifle, so I've simply been doing the job quietly."
Brandon put his hands behind his back and looked thoughtful as he asked, "What do you think Major Corinth and Captain Hartley would think of your... expertise... with a bayonet, Sergeant?"
I shrugged. "You'd have to ask them about that, but they've known what I do since we first met."
His expression clearly showed that he didn't believe me. I looked at Drake and he seemed skeptical, as well.
"All it'll take is a phone call," I said. "If you really want to know, go ahead. They know what I do out here."
A corporal with a walkie-talkie came running up and saluted, then he said, "The final count is sixty-two, sir, with a few questionables that might have been from shrapnel. And brigade wants you on the big box. It's Colonel Porter, sir. He sounds excited."
"Thank you, Stevens," said Drake, dismissing him with a nod. Once Stevens had moved away, Drake said, "Brigade only calls for two reasons. To bitch or crow." Glancing toward the collections point, he added, "But I can't think that Porter will be bitching today."
After a thoughtful moment, he said, "Later, people," then headed toward the commo tent.
Brandon watched him walk away, then turned to me as I turned to leave. He held up a hand and said, "Sergeant."
I turned back to face him without speaking. He stared at me oddly for a moment, then straightened, his hands still behind his back.
"Sergeant, I don't want you going near those women again. Whether they know what you do or not, I think your... hobby... makes you too big a risk to be in their company."
"Better talk to Major Corinth about that first, LT. She..."
He took a quick step toward me, leaning slightly as his hands parted company and fell to his sides as fists. I suppose he intended to appear menacing, but the act fell kind of flat with me.
"You don't tell me what to do, Sergeant. I tell you. And I'm telling you to stay the hell away from those women. You're not to visit them or contact them. Disobey me on this and you'll be restricted to camp for the rest of your tour."
"Bad move, LT. A real bad move. Corinth will string your ass up and Hartley will be right there to help her skin you."
He seemed unable to believe what he was hearing.
"Call Corinth," I said. "I mean it, LT. You'll very much regret it if you don't."
Seething, Brandon said, "You just stepped over the line, Sergeant. I'm assigning you to the med tent. You aren't to leave the area tonight. That's a by-God order and you'll face a court martial if you disobey it."
I nodded as if considering his words, then shrugged and walked away.
Brandon barked, "Sergeant!"
Turning to face him, I gave him a perfect salute and held it as I said, "Do be careful, LT. There could be snipers in the area, and startling the enlisteds could make them salute you at the wrong times."
Beyond Brandon, I saw Andrews watching my display. He got to his feet and stood staring as I continued to hold the salute.
"Put your goddamned hand down," said Brandon.
"A proper salute isn't concluded until it's returned, LT."
"Put your goddamned hand down," he repeated.
"Is that another order, sir? A direct order?"
"You're damned right it is."
I let my hand fall. "Done. See you around, LT."
"Is that a threat, Sergeant?"
With a chuckle, I said, "Now you're being paranoid. Major Corinth is the one you have to worry about. If you're through blustering at me, I'll head on over to the med tent now."
"I think I'd better go with you and let them know not to let you out of their sight tonight."
Chapter Fourteen
Brandon told the med crew that I was restricted to the area before leaving me with them. When Andrews came over to see why I hadn't shown up for briefings, I told him to tell Drake what Brandon had done.
"Can't," he said. "Drake hopped a bird to brigade. Something about moving us north tomorrow, I think."
"Hm. Brigade wouldn't appreciate an interruption over something like this, so we'll wait for him to return. Who's second in command until he gets back?"
"Carson. Blount is in the hospital. He got hit last night."
"No help there. Carson's tight with Brandon." I shrugged and let the med crew hear me say, "I guess things are as they are for now."
Andrews left to spread the word about Brandon being a dickhead as I tapped a cup of coffee from the med tent urn. Hm. Stranded for the moment, and my virus had begun to hum at me. By seven it was singing. As darkness fell half an hour later it was shouting.
"Going to the latrine," I said to whoeverthehell was nearest the entrance, then I headed toward the slit trench and the darkness beyond.
The jerk responded, "Just don't get lost, y'know? LT Brandon's orders."
A presence suddenly loomed above; Anna had arrived. I continued toward the latrine, then detoured a dozen yards upwind of the facility and ghosted as I stood sipping coffee in the darkness.
"Want to come with me, GI?" whispered Anna, as usual offering her rendition of b-girl chatter. "Much fun long time."
"Sorry, lady," I whispered back. "But I'm supposed to be grounded, so I'll have to get back in a few minutes to avoid making waves. Brandon restricted me to the compound for the evening."
"Why would Brandon do something like that?"
I told her about Brandon's order not to visit or call and Anna's aura flared to a vibrant ruby-red for a moment. When her aura had again become its usual whitish-gold, it retained a fringe of that redness.
"That arrogant, ignorant putz," she hissed angrily.
"He thinks he's protecting you," I said. "Good motivation; bad method. When Drake returns, he'll likely tell Brandon to..."
"Don't count on it. From what you said, Drake had reservations about you, too. No, we need to straighten Brandon out about things real quick, but right now, let's find a snack and get you back here."
Setting my coffee down, I said, "Well, then, of course I have to go with you, ma'am. You're a lofty major and he's just a paltry lieutenant."
"Damned right."
We lifted and headed west. Almost half a mile away from the camp we found three VC watchers. After dispatching them, we hauled one into a nearby tree and sipped as we discussed what to do about Brandon.
"Whatever we do," said Anna thoughtfully, "Has to be completely unquestionable. That means either up front and by the book or something so outrageous he'll never dare talk about it."
Tipping my cup to her, I said, "Your choice, milady."
She grinned and said, "I think I'd prefer something quick, quiet, and outrageous, rather than involving the system."
"You sound as if you may already have a plan."
Nodding, she said, "Oh, yes. Ever read about women who went to war dressed as men?"
"Yup."
"Well, you're looking at one of them."
"Cool. Which war? Or wars?"
She laughed softly and said, "All of them, until after the Civil War. They held the Boston Tea party the day after my fourteenth birthday. When I signed up they made me a courier because I could read and write. Enlistment was a little more difficult after the Civil War, though. They stopped handing out uniforms to anyone who could walk and breathe at the same time. They started giving physicals, too."
After another sip, she said, "So I signed up as a woman after that and found ways to get near the combat zones. What say we simply drag Brandon out of camp and show him what we do?"
"Uh, you mean like we showed this guy?" -- I pointed at the VC draped over the limb -- "Or just take him out for some show and tell?"
Anna laughed and said, "We won't kill him unless we have to. I know where I can get a set of fatigues and I can 'borrow' some field gear. All you'll have to do is lure Brandon to where we can ambush him quietly."
"Then what?"
She shrugged and said, "Well, unless we find a VC or two close enough to the camp, we'll have to take a couple of these guys back with us and fake it, I guess. We'll leave them somewhere, take Brandon there, and then I'll use a bayonet on the VC as if they were simply unconscious. Think he'll argue with us after something like that?"
"He may have a hard time believing it really happened, but I don't think he'd be stupid enough to talk about it or interfere with us. The best place to ambush him is probably the latrine. Everybody goes sometime and there's a guard at each end, so he'll probably go alone."
"Sounds good."
Anticipating the energy expenditures of hauling two VC half a mile, we refilled our cups, then shoved our donor out of the tree. A quick tour of the area near the camp turned up two more VC spotters, so we knocked them cold and flew them and their weapons to a spot about a hundred yards from the perimeter, then bound and gagged them and headed back to the faintly-lit latrine area.
"I'll let you know when I'm ready," said Anna, then she lifted in the direction of Delta company's encampment.
I unghosted and ambled back to the med tent with my coffee cup. The guy on guard asked where the hell I'd been for half an hour.
"Out. Now ask me what I was doing."
"Okay. Sure. What were you doing?"
"None of your goddamned business."
"I could report you, smartass."
Laughing, I said, "You'd get to do the paperwork. Go ahead. Besides, what are they gonna do? Send me to Vietnam?"
Some thirty minutes later I was reading a paperback just inside the tent's side entrance when Anna's presence intruded. I looked up from my book and glanced around the camp, then spotted her walking toward me from the latrine area.
She wore boots, dirty fatigues, light field gear, a helmet, and carried an M-16. As she drew closer I saw that she'd replaced her makeup with smudges of dirt and tucked her hair up under her helmet.
Ambling up to me, she stopped and grinningly whispered, "Ready."
Grinning back, I whispered, "Well, I guess you damned sure are, GI Jane! Where'd you get all the gear, ma'am?"
"All the stuff that didn't leave with yesterday's wounded was piled up in a tent. I didn't think they'd miss some of it. No Brandon yet?"
"Not yet." I stuffed my book in my pack and stood up, then gestured toward the coffee urn. "But he can't hold it forever, can he? Have a coffee while we wait, milady?"
"Sure."
As I filled a cup and handed it to her, I asked, "Wasn't there a shirt in the pile with a few stripes on the sleeves?"
"Not in my size that wasn't torn up. Sometimes we have to make do." She looked around the tent, then led the way outside and said, "I'd almost forgotten what it was like, being in a camp like this."
"Some people don't find them particularly enchanting."
Shaking her head, she said, "Not enchanting, no. But it makes me remember when I've been in other camps. I met Grant and Sheridan in command camps like this one. Before that, Washington and others you've only read about." Glancing at me with a sigh, she said, "Someday you'll probably find yourself saying something much like that to a newbie vampire. Try not to sound too condescending when you say it."
With a small smile, I said, "Yes'm. Duly noted. I'll avoid phrases like 'others you've only read about' and even the use of the word 'newbie'."
Chuckling, she said, "My, aren't we sensitive tonight?"
"Nah. When you sighed I thought you were going to say something about feeling old all of a sudden. I was going to tell you how great you look in green and flatter you back to total happiness."
Two guys leaving the commo tent caught our attention. One of them stopped and said something to the other, who waved and nodded, then the first guy headed our way. As he neared, I saw it was Brandon.
"Post time," I said. "That's him."
Anna went into the med tent as Brandon approached me.
"Glad to see you're still here," he said.
Grinning, I said, "Well, I'm happy that you're happy, LT."
His eyes narrowed, but he chose not to continue the conversation and passed me as he stalked toward the latrine. I peeked inside the tent. No Anna or anyone else in sight. Stepping inside, I ghosted and slipped back outside to follow Brandon.
As Brandon stepped up to the slit trench and began to unzip, Anna -- who was already there, pretending to take a leak -- turned to face him and said softly, "Hi, LT. Remember me?"
Brandon froze in shock and his head turned to look at her. That's when I floated close, yanked his helmet off and slugged him, then lifted him over the trench and into the night beyond the faint illumination of the camplighting.
Anna ghosted and caught up with us, took one of Brandon's arms to share the load, and we carried him to where we'd stashed the two VC.
Pinching Brandon's nose while covering his mouth woke him up fairly quickly and kept him from making any sound. Anna grinned down at him while holding his right arm and patted his cheek.
"LT," I whispered, letting go of his nose, "We're less than a hundred yards outside the perimeter. If you get noisy you'll draw fire. Got that?"
After a moment, he nodded. I took my hand away from his mouth, but let him see it form a fist that was ready to knock him out again. His eyes flicked from me to Anna, then his expression became a stark stare, but he didn't freak out.
"How..?"
"No questions," she interrupted him. "None. You're here to see something and maybe be allowed to live, Brandon. That depends on how you handle what you see. Get up. On your knees is enough."
We pulled him upright and he knelt between us, finally noticing the two VC who were trussed like turkeys a few feet away. Both were staring at us; one in stark terror and the other with a fearful glare of hatred. How they felt didn't matter; they'd seen us fly in with Brandon and unghost, so they couldn't be allowed to live.
Brandon suddenly looked around frantically and hissingly asked, "Where the hell are your rifles?"
"We don't use them," said Anna. "They make too much noise."
Anna jarringly punched Brandon's shoulder with her fist. He grimaced as he clutched the spot and stared questioningly at her.
"Focus," she said. "You look at me, LT. I'll let you know when to look anywhere else. I'm the one who's going to decide whether you live or die in the next few minutes. Is that clear? Don't speak. Just nod."
When his mouth opened, she cocked her fist again and his mouth closed. After a moment, he nodded.
"Good," said Anna, then she pulled her bayonet.
Thinking she was going to use it to intimidate Brandon, I pinned his arms behind him. He craned his neck to look at me, his expression one of disbelieving startlement.
I'd guessed wrong. Anna moved to kneel between the prisoners, her attention on the one who'd been glaring hatred at us. The prisoner attempted to struggle, but he'd been too well tied.
Without a word, Anna drove her bayonet into his chest, leaving it there as she watched Brandon's reaction.
He stiffened in shock at what he was seeing, so it's likely that he never noticed my own shocked response at this turn of events. I don't know why the hell her act had shocked me; I'd known the VC would have to die, but I guess I'd kind of expected us to at least untie them first.
The VC's glare had turned to terror and his grunt of agony when she'd stabbed him became a keening sound, but it didn't last long. Both his struggles and his aura faded quickly.
The other VC had also begun to struggle as she'd moved toward them and was now in a complete panic. With one punch Anna knocked him unconscious, then flip-spun the bayonet in her hand to reverse her grip on it and drove the blade down into his chest. After a few moments, his aura, too, began to fade.
After pulling the bayonet out of the man's chest and wiping the blade on his black shirt, Anna cut the cords that bound their hands and feet, then removed their gags and said, "Now it's your turn, Brandon."
Without putting the bayonet back in its sheath, she returned to kneel beside Brandon and put the point of the blade below his sternum. I felt him trembling and heard his breathing turn rapid and shallow.
"Th-that man was a prisoner!" Brandon almost shriekingly whispered. "We don't do that kind of..."
Anna put a hand over his mouth and sharply said, "Oh, shut the fuck up! You've only heard rumors about what the VC do to American prisoners, but I've found what's left of them; their dicks stuffed into their toothless mouths. Their nailless fingers and toes crushed. Their skin peeled off in strips."
She paused and added, "A lot of their torture is simple entertainment, Brandon. Do you know anyone who wouldn't start talking real goddamned soon after they started peeling off chunks of his skin?"
A silent moment later, Brandon quietly hissed, "That doesn't give us the right to act the same way, Major Corinth."
She got nose-to-nose with him and hissed back, "A quick death is hardly the same thing as being peeled, Lieutenant! Our little walk in the woods tonight is supposed to be for your benefit, so stuff your Geneva Convention crap back up your ass, shut up, and pay attention." With a glance at me, she said, "You can let him go now."
I let go of his arms and he was bright enough not to try to reach for either the bayonet or Anna; his hands simply fell to his sides as he fearfully glared at her.
"Brandon," said Anna, "You must know that there are certain people in this world you just don't want to fuck with for one reason or other. I'm obviously one of them. So is Ed, and there are quite a few others both in and out of the US Army. But you need only concern yourself with us for the moment. Am I getting through to you?"
"Oh, yes, ma'am. You certainly are."
His tone was slightly sarcastic; Anna's eyes narrowed briefly, but she chose to continue.
"Good," she said. "Ed's a sergeant and a certain range of duties are required of him. Likewise, he can expect to receive various orders from you and others, but you will not -- I repeat, not -- issue him any further orders that pertain to myself or Captain Hartley. Nor will you in any way hinder his private hunting activities in the future, because they may very likely include Hartley or me. Is that also understood?"
"Jesus," muttered Brandon, "Hartley does this, too? You mean all of you..?" his sentence hung unfinished as he again looked at the VC, then his breathing turned shallow and rapid and his gut clenched.
"Yes, we do," said Anna, then, "Aw, hell. You're going to throw up, aren't you?" Grabbing him by his shirt, she yanked him past her and tossed him to one side, then said, "If you're going to throw up, do it away from us. And hurry up. We aren't quite finished with you."
Brandon moved a few feet farther, then heaved. A full minute went by before he took a deep breath, then another, then knelt upright. Then his gaze fell on the two prisoners again and he turned to look rather balefully at us for a moment.
"I asked you a question, Lieutenant," said Anna in a cold tone. "And you haven't answered me yet. Did you fully understand what I said before you tossed your dinner?"
"I... Yes, Major. I understood you. What the hell kind of people are you? How did you get me past the perimeter?"
Anna laughed softly and said, "You aren't here to ask questions, Lieutenant, and your concerns about the perimeter should be how you're going to get back in. If we let you live. Do you even know that tonight's picket number is twelve?"
"I know it," he said, "I picked it. How the hell do either of you know it?"
Glancing at me, Anna said, "Oooo. I think the lieutenant's spine is growing back. Should we allow that to happen?"
"Your call, milady. Think we can trust him to be sensible?"
Looking at Brandon, she put her bayonet back in its sheath and smiled slightly as she said, "He might consider telling someone that I was out here tonight, but I don't think anyone would take him seriously. What do you think, Brandon? Would anyone believe you?"
When he made no immediate reply, Anna reached behind a tree and produced one of the deceased prisoners' AK-47's.
She touched only the cloth wrapping around the handguard and made a show of pushing some of the camo wrap from the stock through the trigger guard as she said, "No fingerprints this way."
Aiming the AK at Brandon's chest, Anna said, "This is it, Brandon. I'm offering you your life for your silence and business as usual. I was -- and still am -- trying to determine whether you fully realize your situation. If I think you don't, you'll die tonight. If I decide not to shoot and you say anything at all about us later, you'll have an accident soon thereafter. So... Do-you-truly-understand-me, Lieutenant Brandon?"
The whites of Brandon's eyes showed plainly in the faint moonlight as he stared at the rifle's muzzle, then at Anna, and softly answered, "Yes, ma'am. I do understand you."
"You agree to say nothing about us, ever?"
"Yes, ma'am."
Anna seemed to consider his answer for a few very long-seeming moments, the muzzle of the AK never wavering from the center of Brandon's chest. When she at last lowered the rifle and turned the muzzle toward the sky, Brandon let his breath out and seemed to sag a bit.
Then Anna surprised me by saying, "All right, Ed, you got your wish. I didn't kill him. Now that we have some time to discuss it, tell me why."
I played along with a little sigh and a shrug.
"He just thought he was protecting you from me, Anna. We scored a little high last night, and he got the idea that I might be a danger to you."
"How high?" she asked.
"Sixty-two with what look like bayonet wounds, but they weren't sure that some weren't from shrapnel."
Anna shook her head slightly and said, "Doesn't matter. I know exactly how many of them were mine."
Brandon's eyes were still saucer-like as he listened to us.
Handing me the AK, Anna leaned to kiss me, then looked at Brandon and said, "By the way, Lieutenant, your new friend Connie isn't part of our hunt club and isn't likely to be. Don't stand her up because of us."
Rising to a crouch, she said, "Later, guys. Have fun getting back inside," then she moved into the undergrowth and out of sight. A flare of white and gold some distance away told me when she ghosted.
Watching her aura move to hover behind Brandon, I said, "Well, I guess we're all done out here, LT. We can drag these guys in or just take their weapons and leave them for tomorrow's roundup. Your choice."
Brandon's eyes were still locked on the place where Anna had blended into the bush. His gaze turned slowly to me, then to the two VC, then back at me.
He let his breath out and said, "We can't leave the rifles out here, but I don't see any point in hauling the bodies in tonight. What did she mean, 'you got your wish'?"
I chuckled. "That should be pretty obvious, even to a lieutenant. I thought we might be able to reason with you. Anna had doubts about that, but you're still alive."
"How did she even get out here in the first place?"
"How does anybody get out here? Anyway, that's none of your business, LT. Are you gonna be cool about this, or did we just make a mistake we'll have to correct later?"
Shaking his head, he said, "No, you didn't make a mistake. Nobody'd believe that a nurse is running around out here at night, killing VC with a bayonet. I'd rather report a UFO; it would do less damage to my career. Have you thought about what we'll say when we get back to camp?"
"Why say anything? We'll drop the weapons at the collections tent, tell 'em where to find the bodies, and go back to whatever. And you'll rescind the restriction order. That's about it, isn't it?"
After a moment, he sighed and said, "Yeah. That's about it."
Chapter Fifteen
Before we started toward camp, LT picked up the AK that Anna had pointed at him. He slid the magazine out and actually seemed a little surprised to find it full. Had he thought she'd been bluffing? I watched him put it back, then he looked at me.
"She really would have shot me, wouldn't she?"
"Can't say for sure, LT. Probably."
When we were close enough, I whispered, "Two coming in."
I could imagine some guy nearly wetting his foxhole in startlement as his adrenaline peaked and his hands clenched around his rifle.
Someone whispered, "Uh... f-f-f-five!"
"Seven ought to work with that. You okay, there?"
"Uh... Yeah. Yeah. Come ahead."
Despite his prior ordeal, Brandon grinned and shook his head at the guy's responses. After a visual confirmation, we were passed through the perimeter and made our way into the camp. When we turned in the captured weapons, Brandon said only that my restrictions had been rescinded. He said nothing about why we'd been outside the perimeter at all and gave the NCOIC only the approximate location of the VC bodies.
As I started to walk away, he said, "Wait a minute, Sarge."
Because we had an audience, I answered, "Yes, sir?"
"Let's get a coffee."
"Let's get our rifles first. I'll meet you there."
At the mess tent we filled our cups before he looked around, then quietly asked, "Was Major Corinth actually ordering me to continue seeing Connie Barret?"
Shaking my head, I said, "I wouldn't think so. That's a personal matter. She only said that Connie isn't part of what we do, and that's the truth, LT. There's no reason at all not to see her again. If you want to, that is. If not, you should at least make up some kind of reasonable excuse. She's a nice woman who seems to like you."
Pausing a moment to sip my coffee, I added, "Unless going that close to ward seven will be a problem for you now. I could understand that, I guess, but you should know that -- as far as Anna and I are concerned -- it's business as usual unless you do or say something to change that."
He peered at me for a moment, then said, "I don't think I'd want to be invited to lunch with Major Corinth again."
Shrugging, I asked, "Then you've found your excuse, haven't you? A personal disagreement with Major Corinth and a desire to avoid her at all costs, even to include not seeing Connie. She may think a little less of you for it, but..."
He'd been sipping his coffee and froze in mid-sip.
"What?"
"Connie. She may think a little less of you, particularly when you won't tell her what your disagreement was about. You're both junior officers and Connie's new here, too. She doesn't really know Corinth well yet, so she'd naturally be at least a little concerned that Corinth might have pulled rank on you for some reason. Could be she'd think that Corinth wanted you for herself, or that she simply wanted to keep you away from Connie. Then she'd start wondering about that reason and asking around; probably questions about what you might have done to be in the doghouse with Corinth."
I sighed and added, "That might make it kind of hard to find another date at 3rd Surge, LT; the medical community is pretty tight. But you know how they say 'any publicity is good publicity'? Could be one of the other nurses will put her doubts aside and take a chance on you anyway. Or not. Who knows? Connie might hook up with some pilot when she gets over her despair about losing you and her first kid could become the President. You just never know, y'know?"
He'd listened as I'd rattled on with my speculations, his head beginning to shake from side to side as his expression became somewhat awed, then he snorted a short laugh.
"Do you ever listen to yourself?" he asked. "What was that last bit about? Connie's kid becoming President? Where the hell did that come from?"
Grinning, I said, "Just tossed it in to lighten things up. To kind of end on a happy note. Fact is, LT, I think you should give Connie a chance, but I figure you probably already gathered that."
A helicopter approached our encampment, the beat of its blades becoming more audible every moment until it thunderingly set down in the open area reserved as a pad. Only moments after touching down it lifted again and flew away.
Sitting down with his coffee, Brandon said, "I'm still having trouble with the fact that less than an hour ago --" he looked around again, then continued "-- someone we know stabbed two prisoners to death in cold blood."
Sitting down across from him, I said, "'In cold blood.' I never did like that phrase. They were VC, LT, looking for an opportunity to kill us. Forget them and go with what you know, which is that -- as far as we're concerned -- Major Corinth will be either your friend... or your executioner."
"No shit," he muttered. "Talk and die. Before, I didn't want to get wounded for all the usual reasons. Now I can also worry about winding up in her tender care."
"Nope. She runs a med holding ward. But you'd have nothing to worry about, anyway. She offered your life for your silence. You accepted. Keep the deal and you'll be fine, LT."
"How can I know that? How can I be sure?"
"You're still alive, aren't you? It's worked for me so far."
"You?"
"Hell, yes, me. Do you think I'd last any longer than you if I started talking? The hunt club is bigger than just the three of us, LT. I've met enough of the members to know that rotating back to the States wouldn't save your ass if you started yakking about it."
He started to ask me something, then shook his head and drank some coffee. I sipped my own and looked up as I heard voices coming toward the tent. Brandon heard them, too, and watched the entrance.
Captain Drake entered, then two other guys I'd never seen before, both captains. Brandon and I stood up as Drake pointed them at the coffee pot and came to our table with an air of mild surprise.
"I didn't expect to see you two at the same table tonight," he said. "Am I interrupting? Is everything all right?"
"Yes, sir," said Brandon. "Things are fine."
When Drake looked at me, I said, "We only needed about another five minutes to finish solving all the world's problems, sir. Now we'll have to start over from scratch. This time we'll take notes as we go, though."
Nodding, Drake said, "Notes. Yeah. Good idea," and went to the coffee urn.
One of the other captains chuckled and asked, "Is that him?"
"Yeah," said Drake, glancing at me. "That's him."
I looked at Brandon and muttered, "This can't be good."
The other two captains, Barrick and Leander by their nametags, came to sit down and gestured for Brandon and me to do the same. I held up a stalling finger and picked up my cup, then asked Brandon if he wanted a refill while I was up. He looked at me oddly, but handed me his cup.
At the coffee urn, I whispered, "Cap, why have those guys heard of me?"
"Because I told them," he answered, then he headed for the table.
As I returned to the table and handed Brandon his cup, Barrick said, "I hear you took out a mortar position by yourself last night, Sergeant."
"They weren't expecting company, sir. It was a duck shot."
Leander asked, "A what?"
"That's a pool expression," said Barrick. "It means the ball is right by the pocket; an easy shot."
I looked over their starched, unblemished fatigue uniforms. Office boys, visiting the real war during a moment of calm and meeting real, live 'been there, done that' soldiers. Drake usually bitched about the office types, so it seemed likely that he wouldn't have invited them out if he didn't want something from them.
"Captain Drake says you spend a lot of time on, uhm, the other side of the wire," said Barrick.
You could hear the quote marks around the phrase 'other side of the wire'. Still, no reason to be snotty. But it's so hard not to be...
I glanced at Drake and said, "Only when absolutely necessary, sir."
Brandon had been sipping his coffee when I said that. He coughed slightly and set his cup down.
Drake looked at him as if concerned and asked, "Down the wrong pipe, Lieutenant?"
Nodding, Brandon said, "Yes, sir."
"Sarge," said Drake, "These guys have never handled an AK. Rook told me you and Brandon brought in two of them a while ago."
"Yes, sir, we did. The LT, here, handled himself pretty well out there, considering he's only been here a month. Would you like me to get the AK's? We could throw some gallon cans outside the line and the captains could fire off a few rounds."
Grinning, Drake said, "Great idea. Sure, Sarge. Thanks."
As I left the tent, motion caught my attention beyond the perimeter and I stopped to watch the region for a moment. An aura scampered and crawled through the area where Anna, Brandon, and I had held our discussion.
The aura lifted several feet and remained very still. Since the aura was a normal one, the guy had to have climbed into a tree for a look into the camp or to signal someone else. I looked around and saw another aura somewhat farther out.
"Sarge, what's up?" asked Drake.
"I think I saw something moving in a tree," I said. "Too clumsy to be an animal. Could be a VC spotter. This might be a good time to come outside, everybody. I'm going to direct some fire, and it might as well be yours."
They joined me just outside the tent. I told them to stay put and went to the collections tent for the AK's, then picked four guys to run around camp to let everyone know that we'd be firing Commie weapons inside the perimeter. It wouldn't do to have anyone think we'd been infiltrated.
Taking another look at the tree, I saw that the other VC had joined the first one on the branch.
After loading the AK's, I handed one to each of the visiting captains, then stuffed eighteen tracer rounds in an M-16 magazine and said, "I'll shoot first. Watch where my tracers go and try to fill that general area with lead."
"You use tracers?" asked Leander.
With a straight face, I replied, "Only at night, sir."
He nodded understandingly and Drake tried to keep from laughing. He probably thought I simply intended to have them blast away at the dark. I aimed first for the top of the left aura, expecting the bullets to drop a few inches, and fired a three round burst. The aura fell out of the tree and lay still as I aimed for the other aura and fired.
On both sides of me captains Barrick and Leander also fired, but held their triggers. Both AK's emptied into the night, their muzzles climbing skyward a bit. I didn't hear Brandon or Drake fire at all.
Once all the weapons were secured against accidents, I asked Drake to send some men out to check the area.
He almost goggled at me for a moment, then recovered himself and whisperingly asked, "What the hell are you doing?"
"I guarantee four VC, Cap."
Incredulous, he asked, "There really was a VC?"
"Two, Cap. They were checking out the two dead ones."
Eight men were detailed to go out and check the tree. They found and retrieved the two VC Brandon and I hadn't brought in and the ones who'd been in the tree.
Drake flatly stared at me when he saw the four bodies. The visiting captains were in hog heaven, thinking that they'd participated in zapping the enemy.
Barrick asked me how I'd spotted the VC. I said that something had flashed slightly, then explained that although wet leaves and moonlight had been shot at fairly often, it never hurt to spend a few rounds if you had any doubts at all. He shared that bit of instant woods-lore with Leander as they studied "their kills".
Moving to stand beside me, Drake quietly said, "Same question, Sarge."
"Same answer, sir. Thought I saw something. Look at those guys, Cap. They'd give you their next paychecks right now for having been part of this. Take pictures of 'em standing over those vanquished foes of freedom and they'd consider giving you their daughters, too."
Drake glanced back at me once, then offered to record the moment with 2nd platoon's Polaroid. The excited captains reacted as expected and I took that opportunity to slip away to the med tent and open my book.
When nobody had come looking for me by midnight, I put my book away, headed for my poncho-shaded foxhole, and crashed.
Chapter Sixteen
Someone poking my foot woke me up.
Andrews nudged my foot again and said, "Sarge, we got company."
"What kind of company?" I mumbled
"Three captains and an LT. What did you do?"
"Nothing. You gonna stick around or run for it?"
"I'm gonna see about some coffee."
"Same thing as running if you do it now."
"Too bad. See ya."
I got to my feet as Andrews headed for the mess tent. The officer corps stopped a few feet from my hole and we greeted one another with 'good mornings'. Barrick glanced around before handing me something wrapped in an old fatigue shirt.
Drake said, "Hold it down when you open it. It's a bent rule."
Parting the folds of the battered shirt, I saw six little airline bottles of various brands of booze. Glancing up, I saw Barrick and Leander watching expectantly for signs of gratitude. Drake seemed to be watching, too, but likely to see that I showed an appropriate level of gratitude to the others. Brandon seemed slightly discordant. Did he disapprove?
"It's all we could come up with on such short notice," said Leander. "We wanted to say thanks last night, but you disappeared on us."
Glancing at Drake, who knew me well enough to have been unwilling to let Brandon send anyone to find me, I smiled and said, "Well, thanks, sirs. I don't usually get tips, you know. Captain Drake seems to think Army pay is enough."
Some polite laughter circulated, then Drake said, "It's time to get these men back to work, then I'll be stopping at 3rd Surgical to see Hardesty. Do you want to come along?"
"Sure, sir. As-is, or can I stop and change first?"
"As-is, I'm afraid. We're going to brigade first, then over to 3rd Surge if there's no reason to come straight back here."
Grabbing my rifle and gear, I said, "Then I'll stop at supply for a new set of fatigues and get a shower in the ER wing."
Barrick looked confused as he said, "I'm sure Lieutenant Hardesty won't mind if you show up just as you are, Sergeant."
"Sir, you're right about that, but my ladyfriends are worth the extra effort."
In a somewhat disapproving tone, Barrick asked, "Lady friends? Are you seeing more than one woman at 3rd Surgical, Sergeant?"
"I'll just be visiting some friends, sir. They happen to be women and they know each other. LT Brandon's met them all over lunch, and if Captain Drake wants to, we can see about another group lunch today."
Apparently relieved for some reason, Barrick relaxed and we headed for the helipad. A few minutes later a UH-1D landed and we were on our way. I made room for the little booze bottles in my pack, then stuffed the shirt that had wrapped them into a tight corner of the cabin.
Captains Barrick and Leander monopolized Drake and Brandon until almost ten. I found a coffee pot and a place to sit and read after some initial meetings with others in the office, then, amid another round of thanks, Drake and Brandon and I caught another bird to 3rd Surge.
Once in the air, Drake told me that he now had a much more direct line to whatever supplies we might need and stuck out his hand for a shake. As I took Drake's hand, it seemed to me that Brandon disapproved of the gesture to a degree, but he said nothing.
I reopened my pack and handed Brandon two of the booze bottles. He gave me a questioning look.
"I don't like the idea of having booze in camp, LT. I'll give some of them to my friends and you can give a couple to Connie."
Brandon seemed pretty surprised as he took the bottles. He glanced at Drake, then back at me, and said, "Uh, thanks."
Drake took the bait. "Connie?" he asked.
"She's a nurse who agreed to see the LT again," I said. "She seemed pretty nice, so I don't know what she sees in him."
Giving me a droll look, Brandon put the bottles in his pack.
With a short laugh, Drake asked, "Will she be coming to lunch, too?"
"Probably so, Cap." I then handed two of the bottles to Drake and asked, "Got any use for these?"
He laughed again and took them. "Sure. I might find a nice nurse, too. Maybe even one who can be had for a couple of tiny bottles of whiskey."
Brandon glanced at me sharply once as I restrapped my pack. I figured he thought the bottles were some sort of bribe and my mention of Connie in front of Drake was a kind of pressure.
If so, he was only half right. I didn't give a damn about the booze and would have given it away in any case, but it had been a handy way to bring up the subject of Connie.
We went straight to ICU after landing. Hardesty seemed glad to see us, even when Drake presented him with forms to sign after the nurse's second fifteen-minute warning. Some of them had to do with personal affairs, so I excused myself and went to the nurse's station to call Anna and tell her I'd brought Drake and Brandon with me.
"You brought them?"
"Well, they sort of wanted to see Hardesty, too, I guess, and that's where they are now. But I thought you might want to rustle up Connie and have another group lunch. I thought I'd check with you before I brought them down to the ward."
"No problem about lunch. How's Brandon this morning?"
"Persimmony, I think. He's still feeling as if you leaned on him kind of hard last night. Can't understand why."
Anna laughed. "I did lean on him kind of hard, as I recall. Did he try to get out of the lunch date?"
"Nope. Drake wants to meet Connie and Brandon wouldn't be able to fabricate an excuse that would wash. Besides that, Brandon probably won't want to be excluded from any meeting we may have today, no matter how he feels about us."
"Good enough. How's noon for everybody?"
"Fine. I'm going to get some new fatigues and a shower before I present myself in your august presence, milady Anna."
"Very commendable, sir. I thank you for your unsmelly consideration."
"I'll try to talk the others into cleaning up some, too."
She laughed. "Also good. Thirteen hundred, then?"
"No, let's make it noon, after all. They'll have to hurry and they'll be a little off balance when you ladies stun them with your grace and beauty."
She laughed and said, "God, I like the way you think, Sergeant. Okay. Noon or so it is. I'll see who in ward six besides Connie is up for lunch."
After I hung up I headed for the break room. Brandon had apparently also excused himself. I heard him call my name and waited for him to catch up.
"You on your way to let Corinth know we're here?"
"Too late, LT. Done dunnit. She's trying to scrounge up a girl for Cap."
Brandon stopped walking and said, "Sergeant, I don't like your cavalier attitude about Captain Drake."
"He and I go back six months, LT. We've gotten a helluva lot done in that time and we get along pretty well. If he'd had a problem with my attitude, would he have kept it to himself all this time? Would he need you -- or even want you -- to be the one to bring it to my attention if he did?"
Behind Brandon I saw Drake come out of Hardesty's room, look around, then gesture for us to join him.
Brandon glanced around and saw Drake, then turned back to me and said, "We'll discuss this further later."
"No, we won't, LT. You can be unhappy about it, but that doesn't make it your business, and if you give me any more noise about it I'll ask Drake to discuss it with you."
Walking to meet Drake, I said to Brandon, "Now let's all go to the PX for new fatigues and clean up before we head to lunch. I think maybe you've got a touch of stage fright, LT."
"What?"
"You're about to meet Major Corinth again. Unless you're thinking about breaking your deal with her, relax. It'll just be lunch."
"I'm having trouble considering our arrangement anything other than simple coercion."
"That's just the light of day talking. Don't let it cloud your mind about what you know can happen."
By then we were too close to Drake for Brandon to say anything else. After the PX we went to the ER, where I introduced them to Captain Linda Morse, who cleared our visit to the showers at the other end of the wing.
We arrived at ward seven's doors with three minutes to spare. Sgt. Carter stood as we approached and led us to Anna's office, knocked twice, and then opened the door.
Thirteen women yelled "SURPRISE!", then Anna took a step forward and asked, "Aren't you glad you aren't having to buy lunch today? We invited a few of our friends."
Introductions were a required farce, of course. I expected to remember maybe three of the new names for one reason or other and I had no idea how well Drake and Brandon would fare in that regard.
The whole herd of us trooped down to the mess hall, then broke up into smaller groups to occupy four tables. Connie chose to sit between Drake and Brandon. I sat between Anna and Marian. Not by accident, Anna chose to sit directly across from Drake, rather than Brandon.
For whatever reason, Anna didn't announce another moratorium on ranks as she had at our previous luncheon, so I played along accordingly, using people's ranks instead of their first names. Table conversation ranged widely, but seemed to generally avoid any topics that might be too controversial.
On far too many occasions I noted Brandon sneaking glances at Anna or outright gazing at her as she spoke. Connie also noticed, and though she said nothing, I could sense that she was less than thrilled that Anna seemed to be receiving the majority of Brandon's attention.
Somewhat before the rest of us had finished eating, Connie looked at her watch and said that she'd better be getting back to the ward, then stood up to take her tray to the bus bins.
I put a hand on hers and said I'd take it for her. She hesitated, then thanked me and left us with a goodbye to the table as a whole. Brandon stared after her, apparently realizing that there was a problem and that everybody else also realized that there was a problem, and he seemed to be wondering how to handle the matter.
"LT," I said. When his eyes met mine, I said quietly, "I'll take your tray, too, if you'll get up right now and go after her. You've hurt her feelings, and now you should go make a reasonable effort to fix them."
His eyes narrowed and he bridled slightly, but a glance around the table showed him that Anna and Marian felt generally the same way. Brandon got up with a muttered 'thanks' and headed after Connie.
Drake didn't watch Brandon leave, though the rest of us did. Instead, he looked at me in a steady, expressionless manner. I scraped Brandon's leavings into Connie's tray and stacked his tray under hers, then put their silverware and glasses on the pile. Drake was still looking at me.
Aware of Drake's gaze at me, Anna said, "Thank you, Ed. Coming from one of us it might have sounded more like an order than a suggestion. Right, Captain Drake?"
Looking at Anna, Drake's gaze narrowed and he rather flatly said, "No, ma'am. That was an order if ever I've heard one."
"Cap," I said, "It was only a suggestion, tailored to suit a specific individual within specific circumstances. I just phrased it to inspire immediate action and his best possible effort while discouraging a lengthy discussion."
Marian snorted a laugh and put her fork down, then looked at me and laughed shortly again, this time aloud.
"Thanks," she said, "I'm keeping that one."
"With my most profound blessings, milady."
Drake's widening eyes locked on mine as he mimicked, "'With my most profound blessings, milady'?"
Shrugging, I said, "Sure, Cap. They're officers. I couldn't say something like 'No charge, sweetie', could I?"
Marian started laughing and seemed unable to stop. Anna snickered and cackled softly. Cap looked at the two of them in turn and couldn't help grinning, too, even though he seemed not to want to allow it. His look served to make the ladies laugh some more and he appeared to give in to the moment.
I decided to use the booze bottles to change Cap's attitude and the course of the conversation. Pulling my field gear out from under my chair, I retrieved my two little bottles of booze from my pack and presented them to Anna and Marian.
"Almost forgot," I said. "I come bearing gifts, miladies. A couple of visiting captains gave me these this morning."
"Why would captains be giving you booze?" asked Anna.
Marian asked, "Yeah, and if they're going to give you booze, why not in full-sized bottles?"
Shrugging, I said, "I guess these are all they can smuggle around conveniently. As to why they gave me booze; that might be better explained by Captain Drake."
Drake's eyes widened at me briefly as the ladies looked to him for an answer, then he said, "Uh, yeah. Okay," and began outlining the events of the evening. I took our empty trays to the bus bins and returned with four coffees as Drake reached the end of the tale.
"...And Brandon and I thought Sarge was just having them shoot up the woods, you know? But then he asked me to send a team to check the area. Well, I couldn't exactly refuse with Barrick and Leander standing there, so I sent a team out. Lo and behold, they dragged in four stone-dead VC."
He looked up and cleared his throat, then said, "Uh, sorry, ladies. But they were. Dead, that is. Anyway, Barrick and Leander stood with the VC and we took snapshots. Now I think we can probably get just about anydamnthing we want from brigade on a moment's notice."
Anna chuckled and said, "Too bad you aren't an officer, Ed. You might get even more done over here."
"Don't have enough college," I said. "The Army got me."
Drake looked confused as he asked, "You were in college?"
"I quit high school in the tenth grade, Cap, but I took the ACT's first. My overall score was 3.6 and my parents agreed to let me go into college early, but my educational draft waiver somehow didn't clear until I'd already been through Basic Training. It's funny how government quotas can make local politicians overlook details and temporarily lose paperwork."
There was some discussion about similar occurrences that had involved promotions and supplies, then the topic of conversation returned to Brandon and Connie. Drake asked if anyone had any speculations about whether she'd have anything more to do with him.
Marian seemed to think his chances were about even if he could avoid screwing things up any further. Anna shrugged and said that it didn't matter, since there was no shortage of men in the Army.
When Drake glanced at me, I shrugged and said, "At this point, I just hope he comes up with an excuse that makes Connie feel better."
"I thought you were the one who was trying to bring them together," said Drake. "It sure seemed that way."
"I was, sort of. She liked him enough to agree to see him again and they've both got six months to go, but last night he seemed to develop some sort of phobia about Major Corinth, and LT Barret's ward is right next door to hers, so it seemed unlikely... Well, anyway, I thought this lunch might get him over it. Guess maybe not."
"Phobia?" asked Drake. "Are you sure that's the right word?"
I sighed. "He specifically said that he didn't want to run into Major Corinth again. He didn't say why. I don't remember her saying or doing anything while we were here the last time that could account for his present attitude about her."
Anna coughed and said, "I've heard before that I can be a little intimidating at times. Maybe it would help if I talked to him in my office before you guys leave today..?"
Marian said, "If you think it would help, I could be there, too."
"Well..." said Drake.
"Cap," I said, "Last night he told me that before meeting Major Corinth, he'd only been worried about being wounded for all the usual reasons, but now he was worried about winding up in her care. I told him that she only worked in med holding, but..."
In a tense tone, Drake interrupted with, "If you're exaggerating about any of this, you just went a little too damned far, Sarge."
I met his gaze and said, "I'm not exaggerating, sir. He said that, almost verbatim."
Drake looked at Anna and asked, "Can you think of any reason why Lt. Brandon would be afraid of you?"
With a perfectly innocent look, Anna said, "I can't think of anything I might have said or done while they were here yesterday. Not a thing."
"Neither can I," said Marian. "And he didn't seem at all nervous about her yesterday."
After a moment, Drake nodded and said to Anna, "Okay. Talk to him. I won't have time to be there; it's half past one and I have to finish Hardesty's paperwork and get us back on the road by three."
Chapter Seventeen
We headed back to ward six, where we found Brandon sitting alone in the ward's lobby. He stood up as we entered and asked Drake if we were leaving.
"Not until three," said Drake. "Where's Lt. Barret?"
"In her office, sir. She had to take a call."
Drake seemed to be watching Brandon closely as he said, "Major Corinth would like to talk to you in her office."
Brandon froze. His eyes widened and flicked to Anna, then back to Drake, and his aura swelled to a bluish haze that extended a yard around his body. It seemed to me that he paled slightly and he swallowed hard.
Cap straightened slightly and his gaze narrowed as he saw Brandon's rather obvious unease. He turned to Anna and Marian and excused himself with another thanks for lunch, then left us with only a passing glance at me.
Marian said, "I'll go see how long she's likely to be on the phone," and headed toward Connie's office door.
Anna said softly, "That means that she's going to tell Connie to let you step next door for a little while, Brandon."
"What... Why are you doing this?"
"Save your questions for my office."
When Marian came back, Connie stepped out of her office to give us a brief wave, then ducked back inside.
"Connie says she can spare him for a bit, but that he's to stop back here before he leaves."
"Well," said Anna, "I guess that means your excuse was good enough to rate a second chance. Let's go."
Brandon tried not to look like a prisoner on his way to execution as we went next door to ward seven and trooped into Anna's office.
As soon as the door closed, Anna said sharply, "Lieutenant Brandon, your attitudes and your actions today have been unacceptable. You led me to believe that our issues were resolved last night. Exhibiting an extreme aversion about coming anywhere near me or my ward and displaying outright terror when Drake told you I wanted a word with you..." she took a step forward and stopped almost nose-to-nose with him, then continued in an ominous tone, "Is not what I call business as usual."
After a moment of glaring into his eyes at such close range, she shoved him away so that he careened helplessly toward Marian, who caught him by his arms and set him upright with effortless ease. As he craned his neck to try to see her, she shoved him back at Anna.
Brandon's feet briefly left the floor when Marian launched him and the rest of his journey was an attempt not to fall on his face. Anna caught him by his upper arms as effortlessly as Marian had, then she stood him upright at arm's length and shoved him backward into the sofa chair.
Confused and shocked at being manhandled so easily by a couple of women, Brandon stared up at me as if expecting me to do something to him, as well.
I leaned on Anna's desk and said, "Moving patients around all day sure can make a woman strong, can't it?"
Anna came to stand directly in front of Brandon, leaned her rump on her desk, and crossed her arms as she looked at him for a length of time.
"Brandon," she said, "You don't have to like us. You won't be forced to associate with us. Hell, you don't even have to see Connie again after today, but if you decide not to, be nice about it. You will, however, have occasions to visit 3rd Surgical, and you will behave in a normal fashion concerning all of us at those times. That means, in short, business as usual in all respects. No more panic attacks. Got it?"
Nodding slightly, he said, "Yes, ma'am."
"You're sure you can do that?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Great. That's all I had to say. Go see Connie."
He didn't move for a moment, then he levered himself out of the chair and stood up as if expecting to be shoved again by one of us. I sighed and went to open the door for him, and he finally got underway.
As Brandon passed through the doorway, Marian ghosted and moved to follow him, her aura floating over and beyond him toward the main hallway doors. She waited to one side of the doors until he opened them and went through, then she followed him.
Turning to Anna, I asked, "May I make a suggestion about Brandon?"
Still leaning against her desk, she said, "Go for it."
"A records screwup. Update him four months so it looks like a clerical error, then have him transferred him to a holding company and let his records be lost for a month or so. By then we'll have a new LT. In the meantime, he'll be drawing basic pay on his ID alone and too damned busy trying to reorganize his world to do anything truly stupid. By the time things are cleared up, he'll have done his six months in country."
Anna snickered. "That's mean, Ed. We just gave him a second chance."
"He'll blow it, Anna. The minute he feels as if he's out of our reach or he thinks he can sneak something past us, he'll blow it. He'd probably be bright enough not to say that a gorgeous redheaded nurse dropped by his AO, killed two VC, and threatened him with an AK, but I think he'd start dropping hints about there being a hunt club."
"He could do that anywhere, Ed. Erroneous transfers and temporary pay problems wouldn't prevent that."
"No, but it seems to me that you might know of others of us in command positions who could keep an eye on him, at least until he's back in the States. If he talked there, it would be just another tall story."
She studied me for a moment, then remarked, "You really dislike the idea of just killing him, don't you?"
Nodding, I said, "Yeah. I do. He's just a decent guy with a stubborn streak. We wouldn't be doing the world any favor by zapping one of the good guys. There aren't enough of them at the moment."
Anna laughed. "There never have been enough of them, Ed." Moving around her desk, she sat down and pulled a card out of her Rolodex, then dialed a number. I heard only her end of the conversation.
"Hi, Brenda," she said. "Oh, pretty well, except for one small problem. A lieutenant. No, just out of the way with supervision, then reassigned with continued supervision until he's out of Vietnam. No, he only knows that there's some unauthorized hunting going on over here, and that I'm one of the hunters. We just need to put him where we can keep an eye on him." After a long pause, she said, "Sure, that'll probably work out fine. Thanks, Brenda. Bye."
Hanging up the phone, she said, "Done. In two days or so someone will chance across a number of errors while training a new records clerk. He'll be called to MACV to try to straighten things out. Someone there will notice that he had a photography hobby in college and put him to work."
I didn't ask how Anna knew about his hobby. Brandon might have told Connie or Anna may already have checked up on him under the guise of being concerned about Connie's well-being.
Half an hour more passed until the office door quietly opened and closed, then Marian unghosted and said, "He told Connie that he felt guilty about seeing her because he has a girl back in the States."
"Did she buy it?" asked Anna.
Marian shrugged. "Hard to say. He went up to ICU when he left her."
"I've made arrangements with Brenda," said Anna. "In a couple of days he'll be working for Grover Macklin. Until Steve Lister rotates, there'll be two of us to watch him over there."
"Sounds good."
I stood up and said, "It's after two. Guess I'd better get underway."
Anna turned to me and stood up as she said, "One or both of us will drop by tonight. Think you'll be able to spare some time?"
Bowing slightly, I said, "Milady, I'll be delighted to find some way to be at your disposal, as always."
Marian chuckled and leaned to kiss me as Anna came around her desk to do the same, then they walked me to the door.
When I got to ICU, I knocked on Hardesty's open door. Hardesty looked up and waved me in and he, Drake, Brandon, and I spent the next half hour or so visiting before Drake checked his watch and said, "Gotta go."
There was a gunship on pad four and the pilot was doing a walkaround check when we arrived. Two other guys were patching several bullet holes with green duct tape and there was blood on the portside door gun mount.
"Where'd it happen?" asked Drake.
"The next ridge over from your valley," said the pilot, adjusting his mirrored sunglasses. "Brigade thinks something's up out there and asked us to have a look. We didn't see anything big going on and we may have just flown over a squad or something. I'm waiting for a new gunner, so we may be here another thirty or so."
"How about another ride? Anybody else available?"
"Everybody's out pounding that ridge. We're all there is until around five."
That answer didn't seem to make Drake too happy.
"I'll gun," I said, reading the pilot's nametag. Wilson. "I know the sixty, Captain Wilson. Besides, we aren't making any side trips, are we?"
"Just an ammo drop." He pointed to a 4x4 skid on the deck that held a covered and netted bundle with two parachutes on top. "That's why the other gun's missing right now. We'll shove that out and cover the pickup, then take you home. Won't need a gunner for the trip back here."
Brandon said to Drake, "They only drop stuff when it's too hot to land."
Giving him a raised eyebrow for stating the obvious, Drake said, "If they didn't need the stuff pretty much right now, they could wait for a regular supply run, Lieutenant," then he looked at me again.
I shrugged and said, "Then let's do it, Cap."
Drake looked at the pilot and nodded, then headed for the bird's side door. Brandon took his usual center-of-the-bench seat and Drake sat by the other door. I checked the sixty's ammo and action, then strapped in behind it and put on the gunner's helmet.
"Pilot, gunner."
"Go, gunner."
"Ready back here. I'll fire a few upstairs to clear the gun."
"Don't shoot to the south until we're over jungle. Oh, and we may run into some weather. Storm front coming, so make sure your friends are strapped in back there."
"Roger that."
After a radio call to tell the new gunner to wait at the ops building, we lifted and headed east. I fired a quick burst to check the gun as soon as we were over jungle and said, "Gun's okay, Cap," then hung there and watched the scenery go by below us until the pilot said, "Almost there. Get ready to kick that pallet out the door. I'll give you a five-count."
"Five count. Got it."
I told the others and adjusted my straps to allow me to help shove the pallet. Drake got into the other door-gunner's harness when Brandon didn't seem inclined to do so, and when the pilot's countdown ended, I said, "Now!" and we shoved the pallet out.
It hit the end of the strap-tether and both chutes opened, then filled, and the pallet began floating toward the firebase below. There was sudden motion ahead of us some distance away; the trees leaned with a long, strong gust of wind, then straightened, then leaned again without straightening.
"Hang on back there," said Wilson, just before the wind shoved us sideways and he compensated to keep the pallet in sight.
It had been a low drop -- as low as possible -- but the wind was strong enough that the pallet actually rose back up in the air a bit as it headed for a landing beyond the compound's perimeter.
Wilson swore and circled the chutes almost directly above them, then talked to the guys on the ground as he dropped us almost to the chutes, managing to almost collapse them with our downdraft. The pallet landed on the base's second concertina-wire line of defense rather than drifting into the jungle beyond the wires.
It had been a great save, except that we were within a few hundred feet of the ground and rounds were hitting the helicopter's right side. Even as I aimed and fired at a few muzzle flashes, Wilson swung the bird's nose around and used his miniguns on the treeline.
As he swung us back and forth I was able to spray some of the muzzle flashes, but there was no way to know if I'd scored any hits. On one swing I noticed our guys hurrying down the hillside to the pallet and saw one of them go down and tumble, but couldn't tell if he'd been hit.
Rain had begun to fall as someone else barrelled down the access road in a jeep and took a hard left to drive between the rows of wire. When the jeep slid to a halt, two guys jumped out and began slashing at the cargo netting on the pallet.
I couldn't spare the time for more than glimpses of their progress as more rounds peppered their area and their jeep and we returned fire. Wilson sent a few rockets into the treeline and a lot of the firing stopped for some moments, then there were more muzzle flashes from slightly different positions.
The rain was making it harder to see any distance, but there was a sustained burst, then another, as a couple of VC emptied their magazines either at us or the hillside. I returned fire and knocked one of them out of his tree. The other one didn't fall, but neither did he begin shooting again.
After piling the ammo and two wounded in the jeep, the guys on foot headed back up the hill and the jeep backed up quickly until it reached the access road, nearly sliding across it in the slick muck that had been loose red dirt, then the driver aimed the jeep up the hill and floored it toward the gate with a roostertail of flying mud.
Three VC who apparently just couldn't stand seeing them make it actually stepped from the trees and showed themselves as they blasted away at the jeep. I gave them a two-second burst and knocked all of them flat as the gunship began to lift back into the sky.
"Gunner, talk to me!" said Wilson.
I glanced back at Drake and Brandon and said, "I think we're okay back here, Cap."
"Great," he said in a calmer tone. "Find out for sure and get back to me, okay?"
"You got it."
Drake looked up from Brandon and nodded. Brandon was sitting stiffly with his eyes closed and a deathgrip on his seat rack, his rifle held to his chest by his pack straps. That meant that the four empty magazines on the deck belonged to Cap.
I checked the ammo box on the sixty. Half full.
"Pilot," I said.
"Go, gunner."
"We're all okay back here."
"Copy that. You keeping score?"
"No, but I figure I tapped more'n a dozen."
"That's what I figured, too. Those last three were ducks, though."
"Hey, it was raining and we were moving and I hardly ever get time on a sixty. What's easy about that?"
"Ducks," he repeated. "Quack, quack. Really shouldn't even count them at all when they're that easy to hit."
"Uh-uh. Nope. They count, ducks or not. And you should talk, with your miniguns and rockets. What the hell isn't a duck with that kind of hardware?"
"Yeah, sure." He cleared his throat with a chuckle and said, "Okay, then, they count. We'll have you guys home in ten."
"Thanks, I'll pass the word."
The headset fell silent and I relayed the info to Drake. He seemed about ready to knock the living shit out of Brandon, who remained petrified in his seat.
Whatever. I returned to leaning on the sixty and watched the hard rain outside, basking in the coolness and wondering why more of the rain didn't manage to get inside the bird.
Chapter Eighteen
We set down and pried Brandon off the seat, then hopped to the ground. Drake thanked Wilson for the ride and led Brandon toward the commo tent.
Wilson and the copilot walked around the helicopter as casually as if it had been on a secure pad on an airstrip, then announced that it would probably get them back to 3rd Surgical.
I didn't see any hits near anything vital and said so, to which the copilot responded, "Oh, yeah? How the hell would you know what was vital?"
Pointing at a few crucial areas, I said, "There, there, and there, for sure." Pointing at the copilot's seat, I added, "And there might be bad, too, I guess, but it wouldn't damage the engine."
The copilot gave me the finger with a grin.
Wilson laughed and said in three separate and carefully enunciated words, "Quack. Quack. Quack."
"Told you I'm keeping them anyway." I pointed again, this time at the rotor blades, as I said, "Hey, try to remember to keep that spinning thing pointed up on the way back, okay?"
He laughed and said, "Yeah, no sweat. They told us about stuff like that yesterday," then he waved and said, "Later," as he and the copilot climbed into the bird.
Waving back, I said, "Later," and headed for the mess tent.
The rest of the day was thoroughly uneventful from my point of view until I went to a late dinner rather than join the crowd. A runner came to tell me that all NCO's were to make sure everybody would be ready to transport on a moment's notice. No reasons or explanations were given.
I don't bother speculating on such things. After dinner I went to the commo tent. I found Spec.4 Patrick turning his job over to the second shift and asked him what was going on.
"We may have to help Echo company," he said. "They're on the other side of the ridge and they think something's about to happen over there."
"Cool," I said, turning to go. "Thanks."
"Wanna hear about LT Brandon?" he asked.
I turned back to face him and asked, "What about him?"
"Drake's getting rid of him. Don't know why."
Oh, damn. Not according to plan. Not good.
"Is that gospel or gossip, Patrick?"
"Gospel. I heard him talking to brigade."
"Where's Drake now?"
"He just went to the mess tent. I don't know where Brandon is."
Heading back to the mess tent, I wondered how I might talk Drake into keeping Brandon for another two days or so. Drake was involved in a conversation with three other officers when I arrived.
I didn't interrupt them; instead I went looking for Brandon, and found him talking to another LT from 3rd platoon just as Anna's presence began to impose itself on my awareness. Glancing around, I saw her aura about sixty feet above us.
When he saw me, Brandon seemed to straighten and asked, "Yes?"
"Need a word with you, LT. It's kind of important."
"Later," said the other officer, and walked away.
After a long moment, Brandon sighed and asked, "What is it?"
"Did you ask for a transfer?"
He looked startled. "No. I didn't. Why?"
"I have reason to believe that Drake talked to brigade about trading you. After our ride today, I can't think why else he'd have done it. What are you going to do about it?"
Goggling at me, he asked, "Do about it? If you're right, what the hell could I do about it?"
"LT, you're okay on the ground; just not in the air. Drake already knew that and the ground is where we actually work, so that flight today shouldn't count too much against you. Not enough to make Drake ditch you, anyway. And something like that won't look too good on your record, however they may word it. So -- again -- what are you going to do about it?"
Still staring at me, his gaze narrowed and he asked, "Why the hell do you give a damn what happens to me?"
Leaning to whisper, I said, "For the same reason I didn't want someone in particular to shoot you, LT. You're more like Hardesty than Sauder. You're nowhere near perfect, but you could be a helluva lot worse."
In a sardonic tone, he said, "High praise, indeed, I suppose, coming from you, but there's not much I can do if Drake wants me gone."
"Talk to him. I will, too."
Brandon sighed and took off his hat to run a hand over his head.
"And tell him what? I panicked today; plain and simple."
"You were in the air. That's what's plain and simple, LT. You've never panicked on the ground, have you?"
He bridled. "Hell, no! Ask any of my people. We get the job done!"
"Then that's what you'll tell Drake, LT. He's in the mess tent. If they have to send a bunch of us to support Echo company tonight, we'll all be busy as hell later."
"Word's already going around about that, huh?"
I didn't bother to answer that. He sighed and switched his rifle from his left hand to his right, laid it on his shoulder, and nodded.
"Yeah. Okay. You're right. If I'm going to do anything, it has to be before he can make arrangements he can't change."
With that, he trudged toward the mess tent. Before he got two steps, I hissed, "Damn it, LT, straighten up!"
Snapping him had the desired effect. He stiffened and glanced back at me with a rather angry expression.
I grinned and gave him a thumbs-up. "Yeah, that's the look. Go for it."
After a moment, he shook his head and sighed and turned to continue to the mess tent.
Glancing around, I quietly said, "Problems, Anna. We had some trouble on the way to camp, and Drake didn't like the way Brandon panicked on the chopper. Wants him gone."
"I gathered that. Think you two can talk him out of it?"
"No idea. Did you see anything we might want to know about on the way here?"
"You mean like a couple of hundred VC about three miles west of here, coming towards this camp? And probably another twenty or so about a mile away, moving this way with mortars?"
After staring blankly at her for a second, I said, "Yeah, I guess we'd consider that news, if you aren't kidding..."
"I'm not kidding," she interrupted flatly. "This won't be a night for our usual games, Ed."
With a sigh, I said, "Guess not. Is Marian here, too? Or coming?"
"No. She was called back to the ER. They attacked two firebases to the east a little over an hour ago. When I flew over that area, I didn't see all that many auras, though. The main force is coming this way."
"A diversion. We go light up the woods over there and Charlie hits us here while the birds and arty are tied up. Anna, you've been ghosting for quite a while already. Why not have a snack and take it easy for a few? I'll come find you after I've found a way to set some things in motion."
"Good enough," she said. "Head west. We'll find each other," then she lifted and moved away as I began to think about how to sound an alarm without appearing either extremely psychic or completely crazy.
'Moving up,' she'd said of the VC mortar teams. I looked beyond our perimeter and saw only a few individual auras. Spotters, but no groups of auras, so the mortars were still far enough 'out' for the moment.
Figure an hour to get here and get the mortars set up. About two hours to get the big group here. The mortars would fire as soon as the main force arrived and after about three volleys they'd be coming at us.
Andrews, Nelson, and some other guy were circulating among the troops, having them count off as one, two, and three, then telling the third guy to head for the mess tent.
Oh, hell. That meant that we'd been ordered to supplement Echo company. Well, a few AK rounds fired in the air would keep the choppers from landing, but then they'd call in gunships. If the gunships didn't see some immediate activity, they'd load troops anyway. A delay, at best.
"Andrews," I said.
He came over with Nelson and said, "Yeah."
"How soon will they move those guys?"
Shrugging, he said, "Maybe half an hour. They're trying to find enough birds to do it in two trips."
"I'm getting a bad feeling, and it's coming from that way." Pointing west, I added, "A real bad feeling, you know?"
Andrews was a believer in bad feelings; he'd had a few himself just before things had gone to hell on other occasions. Looking west, he peered for some moments, then looked back at me as if studying me.
Nelson had looked out there, too, but only briefly.
"Can't do nothin' about it, Sarge," said Nelson. "Could be you're just gettin' nervous about nothin', anyway. Echo's catching all the shit right now. Been that way for an hour."
"It doesn't feel right. A heavy attack, then fall back? That's not the Chuckie we know and love, is it? He'd follow up fast, Nelson. He'd be..."
"Yeah," said Andrews. "Same here. Doesn't feel right, but why west? Echo's over that way." He pointed at the ridge to the east. "It'd take 'em a couple of hours to get around the ridge. Maybe more, and Superchicken is a closer target."
"T-Bird is a hard core firebase. We're just a bunch of guys camping temporarily on a hillside, waiting to find out which way to jump, and I'd bet you anydamnthing that Charlie knows they're going to use some of our people to support Echo."
Nelson squatted with his rifle across his knees and looked thoughtful as he doodled in the dirt with a finger.
"If Charlie wants a show that'll make the papers," he said, "Wastin' us would prolly do it."
"No damned doubt," said Andrews. "And we'll be down a third or more when they hit us."
He'd said 'when', not 'if'. Good. Andrews was aboard. I turned to Nelson.
Looking up at us, he said, "Well, I guess it wouldn't hurt to spread a rumor that'll keep some of these people on their toes tonight."
A guy came out of the mess tent and Nelson called him over.
"Poole," he said, "You're always at the head of the line for gossip. We been hearin' they might put more people on the west side. Your hole's over that way. Who gave the order? They expectin' somethin'?"
"Dunno. This is the first I've heard of it." Thumbing over his shoulder, Poole needlessly added, "I've been at chow."
Nelson nodded. "Well, let me know what you hear, okay?"
"Yeah," said Poole, "No sweat," then he moved away.
When Poole was some distance away, Nelson chuckled quietly and said, "He's in number four hole with Davis and Shear. In about five minutes they'll have ever'damnbody talking about it. If we move a couple cases of grenades over there, they'll get the idea it isn't just a rumor."
Andrews said, "I can make that happen. I'll send Wilt over there, too. We got two starlights unless 3rd's goes to Echo."
"Good deal," I said, "But they'd be real goddamned close before he'd see them through a starlight scope."
"We got what we got," said Nelson. "Best just pray that Chuckie shoots at the transports. That'll make 'em wave off, call in the slicks, and give us another half hour, maybe."
After another few minutes of discussion, we broke up and headed off to check the lines. Once I'd completed a circuit of 2nd's area, I went to the mess tent to see how Brandon was doing with Drake.
Not good, evidently. Brandon had already left the mess tent and was standing a few yards beyond it, staring at the stars.
"LT," I said quietly.
He looked at me and shook his head, then began walking toward the west perimeter and his peoples' positions. I altered course to intercept and walked with him.
"I don't want to talk about it any more," he said flatly. "It was done before he went to chow."
"Okay." We walked a few paces before I asked, "Did he say anything about trouble from the west tonight? I haven't tried to find out how or where the rumor started, but that's what's going around."
Shaking his head, Brandon said, "No, nothing," then he stopped, sighed, and said, "If you don't mind, I'd like some time to think."
"Oh. Yeah. Okay. See you later, LT."
As I turned to go I heard him mutter, "No damned doubt."
When I returned to 2nd's area, I located Andrews again and said, "Cover for me. I'm gonna take a walk."
He glanced beyond the perimeter and back at me. I nodded and he nodded in return, then I headed for the darkness between positions three and four. After making sure there were no human auras anywhere near me, I ghosted and lifted to head westward.
Anna's presence nudged me and I aimed myself at it. Maybe another half-mile later I saw her unghosted form sitting on a big branch to one side of the VC she'd draped over it.
"Snack?" she asked, handing me her cup as I unghosted.
"Thanks," I said as I took the cup. She rolled the VC far enough to spill, then rolled him back when the cup was full. A few long sips later I felt the day slip away and my energy levels begin to peak.
"Andrews, Nelson, and I started a rumor about westerly activity," I said. "Where's this guy's rifle?"
Pointing at the ground, she said, "Down there somewhere near the tree. What's the plan?"
"When the choppers come for booster troops, I'm going to fire a few rounds. That'll buy maybe half an hour until they decide the area's safe enough."
"The VC are going to hear it, too. They're not that far away now; less than two miles, I'd say. They're splitting into two groups, I think."
"A flank move or a wave attack. Or both. Whatever, if we can get some slicks out here, they'll tear up the woods."
Locating the VC's AK was no chore at all; it was propped against the tree, which made me wonder what he was doing when Anna nailed him.
Back at the top of the tree I checked the rifle's breech and pulled the bolt back to quietly seat a round, then freed the VC's ammo belt and set it aside.
Taking off my own field gear and strapping my rifle to my pack, I hung the bundle on a branch and put on the VC's belt and pouches. We waited for the sound of helicopters as Anna and I shared from her cup.
Chapter Nineteen
The faint beat of rotor blades in the distance reached us almost at the same time that a goodly number of auras began appearing on the ground around our tree. By luck or planning, the VC had managed to arrive at the best possible time.
"You may want to find a safer place to sit, milady," I said.
"Oh, I will," said Anna. "In fact, I think I see a really nice tree some distance to the south. Want me to take your gear with me?"
"You promise not to snoop in my diary?"
She grinningly kissed me, grabbed my gear, and said, "No. Bye," then ghosted and lifted southward.
The three-man VC mortar team below me was wiped out when I emptied a magazine at them in three-round taps of the trigger. Moving through the tops of the trees, I looked for more targets and found them not far away. Three VC were huddled in muted conversation -- likely about why anyone had fired before the attack had begun -- and they, too, were easy victims.
A couple of rounds hit my tree and many more missed as someone at another mortar position fired at my muzzle blasts, but I'd positioned myself on the other side of the tree from them.
Reloading, I fired once at them to keep their attention on the tree, then lifted behind the tree and flitted to another tree on the far side of their position. Three taps later their auras were fading as I heard an M-79 grenade launcher fire from the US perimeter and thought, 'Oh, damn.'
Hunkering on a branch on the far side of the tree from the perimeter, I tried to be as small as possible and waited as I listened for more of the characteristic 'bloop' sounds that give the 'blooper' its nickname.
The M-79 gunner seemed pretty damned good for someone shooting at flashes in the dark at nearly maximum range. An explosion rocked the night just below my tree, then I leaped into the air to get farther away from that area fast and circle behind another mortar team.
One of them had a radio and seemed to be trying to reach someone, calling repeatedly into the mouthpiece. He was my first target. The other two of the team remained hunkered in cover as he fell, probably following his instructions. Two more short bursts finished them.
The incoming helicopters had been waved off and the gunships orbited the area, searching for targets as the transports retreated. It seemed likely that they'd light up any area in which they saw gunfire, so I fired a burst and got the hell away from the mortar position in a westerly direction.
Sure enough, a gunship wheeled around and sprayed the defunct mortar position with its miniguns. Almost halfway back to the tree where I'd met Anna, I aimed in the gunship's direction and fired a whole magazine into the air well above it, then continued westward.
The guys on the gunship, being hundreds of feet up, likely thought I was a truly stupid VC on the ground. They thoroughly zapped the area where they figured I'd been standing as I headed toward the main group of VC.
A second gunship circled widely enough to spook the VC who were assembled; I saw them frantically trying to find any kind of cover. They'd likely already been spooked a bit by a gunship firing in their direction, even though none of the rounds had reached them.
Dropping to one of the tree's hefty lower branches, I put the wide tree between the second gunship and me and emptied my last AK magazine into the air above the bird. As soon as the rifle was empty I dropped it and headed straight up at my best speed.
The gunship opened up on my firing position as I cleared the top of the tree, and a godawful lot of the minigun rounds ripped past the tree and into the confused VC. Confused or not, they fired back, which invited more minigun fire from the bird.
The gunship broke off and banked, then gained altitude. The second gunship broke its orbit and arced tightly around the zone where the VC were now trying to hit both birds. Rockets and miniguns began pouring fire into the circle, and in less than a minute two more gunships had arrived.
Quite a few of the auras trying to escape the carnage headed toward the camp, but most didn't make it very far. As soon as they tried to cross either the open road or the nearby fields they were cut down, but a number of them managed to reach the cover of the trees between them and the camp.
As soon as a few of the camp's perimeter claymores went off it seemed as if everybody in camp fired at least a few rounds where they expected the VC to be. Mortar and mine explosions dotted the area and brilliant tracer rounds seemed to reach everywhere down there. I left everybody to their encounter and looked for Anna.
A half-mile or so to the south I found her sitting on a branch with her arms wrapped around her knees, watching the fireworks. She had another VC draped over a branch, and as soon as I landed she handed me her cup and told me I looked as if I needed to tank up.
"You really got that party started," she said. "I'll bet nobody feels left out, except maybe the transport pilots." With a small sigh, she grinningly added, "And me. I've been feeling like such a wallflower over here."
"Well, gee, ma'am, I'm sorry. Let me rest a minute and I'll try to make you feel a little more appreciated, okay?"
Laughing softly, Anna tilted the VC so he could refill the cup, then she let him fall off the branch and took her cup back for a sip.
"Our stream is about fifty yards behind me," she said. "If you think the war can do without you for a little while, I'd like some help with something of a personal nature."
With a standing flourish, I said, "I am yours, milady."
As I helped her to her feet, she made a small curtsey and grinningly said, "It's so nice not to be taken for granted."
Anna picked a spot along the stream and we doffed our clothes, then we spent the better part of two hours entertaining each other before she sighed and said that it was getting rather late.
"Next week Marian will be making these visits," she said, rising to her feet. "I'm going to feel deprived, you know."
"Uh-huh," I said as I shook out my pants. "You know why I've never asked what you ladies do when you aren't out here with me?"
"Other than work, you mean? No, why?"
"Because I don't want to know, of course. I figured both of you had other arrangements before I came along and probably still have them."
She didn't even pause as she slipped her blouse on.
"You figured right," said Anna. "Does that bother you?"
"A little, yeah, but..."
Grinning at me, she interrupted with, "Only a little? I think I'm hurt."
"Well, then, before you go back and start your week with whomever else, show me where it hurts, ma'am. Let me kiss it and make it better for you."
She chuckled. "Marian and I discussed this, you know. How you'd react when you realized there were other people in our love lives."
'People', she'd said. Not 'men'. I let my left sock hang on my toes for a thoughtful moment and met her gaze as I remembered how Marian and Anna had so often played around me as much as with me in the sack. I shrugged, both mentally and physically, and pulled my sock on.
Anna snickered, then laughed softly as she said, "Like I said, we're outside some of the usual rules. It kind of surprised us when you didn't seem interested in watching us."
"Oh, I've watched now and then, during breaks, but I figured they were supposed to be private moments. Interludes. You're old friends who have something kind of special in common, and the militaries are full of women who prefer women. I can understand that, by the way. Preferring women, I mean." Getting to my feet, I put on my shirt as I added, "Never could see a problem with that."
Coming over to kiss me, Anna said, "Maybe that's why I like you. You're such an egalitarian that you'll even give a lofty major a tumble."
"Well, not many majors look like you, Major Corinth, ma'am. Fact is, since most of 'em aren't even women, you've got this particular field pretty much to yourself, I think."
We parted company with another kiss while we were still a good hundred yards from the perimeter. Rooting around the nearby area a bit turned up eleven AK's, which I strapped together in a bundle with as many ammo pouches as I could find. Slinging the bundle over my shoulders, I headed toward the spot where I'd left the camp.
"Coming in," I said from behind the cover of a tree.
A startled, "What? Jesus!" came from a concealed position.
"Just gimme a number, dammit."
A hissing conversation took place, then he said, "Uh, seven."
"Nine."
When there was no immediate response, I said, "That was right when I left. If they've changed it, get Andrews or Nelson over here to ID me."
"Uh, no. They didn't change it. Uh, come on ahead."
"You don't sound very confident and I don't want to get shot. Maybe you ought to call Andrews or Nelson or I ought to come in somewhere else."
There was a soft 'clunk' sound and another voice said, "No, come on in, Sarge. These guys just don't quite have their shit together."
"Copy that. Thanks, Andrews."
"You didn't have to bang our heads together," said one of the guys.
"Shut up, Matthews," said Andrews. "If he'd tripped on the way in you'd have spooked and he'd be fulla holes. Wear your helmet and there won't be so much noise when I do that."
The other guy in the hole stifled a nervous laugh as I moved forward with my bundle and stepped past them. Andrews followed me and grabbed one of the straps to help carry the bundle.
"Been busy, huh?"
"Yeah. I managed to get the slicks to take a look to the west, then I took a couple of hours of personal time."
He laughed. "I think I'd have taken the whole goddamn night off. They'll be cleaning up out there all night and most of tomorrow."
At the collections tent we turned in the rifles and ammo. When the NCO asked where we'd found the stuff, I said, "Around," and we left to go to the mess tent for some coffee.
"Wait one," said Captain Drake, coming around the side of the tent.
Andrews and I stopped as he approached us.
"I'm coming with you," said Drake. "A coffee sounds good."
With a raised eyebrow at me, Andrews said, "Sure, Cap."
Drake leaned into the command tent and said, "I'll be in the mess tent," then led the way.
Some steps later, he said, "Tell me about your travels tonight, Sarge."
With a glance at Andrews, I said, "Well, I went for a walk and ran into some people, then I kind of introduced them to some other people. How much do you really want to know?"
"Uh, huh. Thought so. Couldn't find you with three runners. I'd like to know when you plan to go outside. I think I've mentioned that before."
"You'd have tried to send a couple of people with me, Cap."
"Yes, in this case, I would have."
"Cap, more people would have been more dead people."
"You made it, didn't you? Do you think you're the only guy here who can go out there and come back?"
"Have any of the others ever asked to go? Nobody's ever asked me to take them along."
He stopped, rounded on me, and stopped me with a hand on my chest as he said, "In the future, you'll let me know before you go. If I think you'll need help, you'll have help. I'm not asking, Sarge."
Meeting his gaze, I asked, "Would you order any of your men to do something you wouldn't do? Would you ask Brandon to go?"
That made him blink. "Brandon? Why bring him up?"
"Because he'd go out there with me if you asked him to, Cap, but you're about to get rid of him."
"Who told you I was getting rid of Brandon?"
"You talked to brigade about him, Cap. Why else would you have done that right after our flight back from 3rd Surge?"
Cap looked at Andrews and said, "Excuse us, please."
Andrews nodded and left quickly, not wanting any part of whatever was coming next.
Turning back to me, Drake said, "Brandon panicked. We needed him and he panicked. I won't have that."
"We needed him? I didn't need him. The chopper crew got by just fine without him, too. You went through at least four magazines in about three minutes, Cap. Did you actually knock down any Chucks, or did you just feed your rifle, aim out the doorway, and hope for the best? You found his fear of flying amusing, Cap. When did it stop being funny?"
"You're about an inch from a court martial, Sarge."
I sighed. "We live in holes in the ground, we try to sleep in the sun and rain, and every damned one of us know there may be a sniper waiting for him to stand up and take a leak, Cap. Are you offering me a clean bed in an air-conditioned cell at Long Binh? A place where nobody will be interested in shooting at me unless I try to leave?"
"You might want to think about how that would look when you're back in the world, looking for a job."
"At least I'd be guaranteed to get back there. One in every four of these guys out here right now won't go back alive, Cap; the odds have gotten that bad since Tet, and those are Army-issue numbers, not rumors. I just want you to turn a blind eye while I keep doing what I've done since before you got here. You're the only one with a problem about it."
Drake was seething, but he suddenly seemed to have a revelation and his expression calmed as he said, "Coffee. Now."
Until we both had cups at a table, he said nothing more. After a few sips, he set his cup down and spoke rather patronizingly.
"You don't seem to understand my side of this, Sarge. If you get hit, I'll have to explain to everybody why I let a man go out there alone." Sighing, he added, "I don't want to have to try to do that."
"I had this discussion with the guy you replaced, Cap. Our solution was that he didn't need to know until I got back. You and the old XO let that tradition continue for four months. What's changed?"
I sipped my coffee and continued, "And on another note; Hardesty's leaving and you need a new XO, so you grabbed Brandon -- who'd lately be happy to see me stay out there, I think -- but you're dumping him."
Cap peered at me and said, "I thought you and Brandon settled things."
"Nope, not even close. But he'd be good with the NCO's, Cap. Like Hardesty was good with them. Like Wollheim was good with them. And the next guy they send you could be a Sauder type; all brass and gas."
Drake swept a hand through his hair, then sat back as he said, "Forget what I said about a court martial. I was pissed. I still am, but I'm too damned tired to deal with it. We'll talk some more about things tomorrow."
Taking that as a dismissal, I got up to leave.
"By the way," said Cap. "Authorized or not, that was good work tonight."
I nodded and refilled my cup on the way out.
Chapter Twenty
'Vibes'; probably a term some inarticulate rock star came up with when the word 'feelings' was out of vogue. Good vibes and bad vibes were what people claimed to have these days, and I had some bad ones about Cap.
He seemed to think he was standing in a spot where rocks and hard places collide, and sensible people will get out of the way of such things if they can. Deciding that he'd likely do what I'd do if I were in his position, I made sure that all my gear was packed and sacked out for the night.
In the morning I was wakened by Andrews, who told me to grab my stuff and head for the commo tent on Drake's orders. I slung my gear on my shoulder and got underway, stopping only to take a leak, brush my teeth, and have a cup of coffee as I refilled my coffee canteen.
Brandon was sipping coffee in the commo tent, something I thought was more than a little odd, given Drake's feelings about him.
As I sat down, I said, "Hi, LT."
With a narrow gaze, he asked, "Why are you here?"
"Because Captain Drake said to be here. A buck says he's gonna tell us both to clean out our lockers."
Startled, Brandon asked, "After last night? Why would he do that? You're his star player at the moment."
"Ahhhh, well, not really, LT. How about it? Make it two bucks."
He wouldn't bet. No sense of humor in the morning.
Just as well we didn't bet, though, since Drake came in only long enough to point at Brandon and say, "You're staying. Go see Harris when you finish that coffee."
He then pointed at me and said, "You're going. Your orders will be ready shortly and your ride will be here at eight. Good luck at your new post. You have about half an hour to say any goodbyes, so don't waste it trying to argue with me."
Drake then said something to the clerk and left the tent. Stunned, Brandon sat holding his coffee cup about halfway from the table to his face for a moment, then looked at me.
"Well, I was half right," I said. "Guess he was listening, after all."
"What?"
"Last night we talked. I guess you look like the lesser of the available evils this morning. Congratulations."
"I'm what?"
The clerk said my orders were ready, separated the carbons, and handed me three copies with instructions to take the mimeograph stencil in the folder to personnel at 5th Holding at Dong Tam for more copies.
Standing up, I guzzled my coffee and said to Brandon, "You're still here, that's what. Mission accomplished. Later, LT. Gotta clean up and go find some people before I leave."
Andrews freaked when he heard I was leaving and ranted a bit. Nelson nodded as if the inevitable had finally happened. When I got to base, I turned in my rifle, packed my duffle bag and ditty bag, then waited in the CO's office for my next ride.
When the company clerk stepped out, I slipped the door latch with a letter opener and used Drake's phone to call Anna. She wasn't in and I told Sgt. Carter what had happened.
Carter said she'd try to find Major Corinth, then stressed that 'I should come straight to ward seven'.
That had been my plan, anyway. Chuckling, I said, "Yes, ma'am," and grinningly saluted the phone.
"Sorry," said Carter. "I'm used to dealing with reluctant patients. But I just know that Major C will want to know about this ASAP. If you don't hear from us before your ride arrives, just come here, okay? I know she'd want that. Bye, now."
"Thanks, Carter. Bye."
The company clerk eyed me from the doorway as I hung up.
"It was a local call," I said. He didn't think that was funny.
"You aren't supposed to be in here."
"Your extension won't dial out."
"The door was locked. I could call the MP's."
"Yeah, well, if you do, they'll be booking me for beating the crap out of a company clerk, too. I just wanted to use the phone. No biggie."
"Who did you call?"
"General Westmoreland. We talked about you, mostly. Ready to give it up and mind your own business? She'll probably be calling me back before I leave, anyway."
"She? You called a woman?"
"Yup."
"Just come on out of Captain Drake's office, Sergeant. You'd better hope nothing's missing when he gets back."
As I stepped up to him, I said, "Corporal, you'd better start worrying about missing teeth if you plan to keep talking to me like that. Since you don't seem to have any coffee in here, I'm going to get some at the mess. Let me know if Major Corinth or her office calls back."
By ten-thirty neither Anna nor Carter had called back and I heard a helicopter approaching, so I got up to go meet it. The bird was a UH-1D, but the pilot was the guy who'd needed a new door gunner the day before. He hopped down as I tossed my bags aboard and shook hands with me.
I asked, "Where's your gunship, Cap?"
"In the shop. A round got into the engine compartment. We started spitting oil halfway back and barely got down before the engine seized up."
Looking the craft over, he added, "I feel kinda naked in this one. All I've got is a door gunner and a .45 hanging on my belt. Can't get Sally back for two days."
"Sally? Your gunship?"
Nodding, he smiled and said, "Yeah. 'Sally Forth', like in the comic. Had a guy who was gonna do some nose art, but the CO said no. They've been making us take some of 'em off the birds 'cause of the press."
"That probably just means it was something I'd like to see."
"Oh, yeah. She kinda looked like Supergirl, but all grown up, y'know? Flying right at 'em, too."
He raised his clenched fists together and grinned as he pantomimed flying at the enemy and said, "Same little-bitty skirt and cape and boots, but her outfit was tiger camo with our unit patch and she was built like a goddamn showgirl."
"Well, damn. Now I feel deprived. That would have been something to see."
"You got that right. All aboard, Sarge. We're outta here."
It may not have been a gunship, but Wilson flew it like one, lifting us fast and tilting us sharply nose-down as we powered forward and cleared the fence by what looked like maybe all of ten feet.
At 3rd Surge, our landing was comparatively sedate; he didn't drop the tail as a lot of the pilots tend to do, and our skids seemed to touch down in unison, rather than jarringly individually.
Marian Hartley stepped out of the ops building and held her skirt down for the most part as she grinningly waved to me. I waved back, hopped down, shouldered my duffle and grabbed my kit bag, and started toward her.
"Yo, Sarge," said Wilson. When I turned and looked up at the cockpit, he grinningly indicated Marian and asked, "How about an introduction?"
"Her boyfriend would yank my stripes and ship my ass to someplace nasty. Thanks for the ride."
He nodded and waved me a two-fingered salute as I headed for Marian, who stepped around the corner of the building to avoid the wind. I joined her there and we walked toward the ops-office doors.
"Anna got picked to sit on a review board. She's been out all morning. Carter called me about your situation, so I decided to get out of the ER for a while."
"Thanks. Having you meet me has undoubtedly increased my status on the flightline, milady."
She said, "No charge, sweetie," then she laughed. "I loved the expression on Drake's face when you said that at lunch. Carter said that you said that Brandon was also in line for an involuntary transfer?"
"Fixed it, sort of. At least he's still there for now, so Anna's plans can find him easily. He won't have a black mark on his record, either."
"A black mark?"
"Yeah. Some people just can't fly, Marian. He's one of them; it locked him up tight on the flight back yesterday. Drake was max-pissed. He was going to get rid of Brandon."
"Oh. Damn. You talked him out of it?"
"I think so. Drake said he was staying this morning."
We stopped chatting to present a standard officer-enlisted demeanor as we joined the traffic in the hospital corridors and headed for ward seven. When we arrived, Sgt. Carter said that Anna had returned. I parked my bags in a corner, then Marian and I went to Anna's office.
Anna said, "Thanks, Carter," and hung up the phone, then gave me a big grin and said, "I heard you got fired, mister."
I shrugged and sat down in the sofa chair as Marian settled on the couch and toed her shoes off.
"Yup," I said, "Drake said he didn't want to have to explain why I was out there alone if I got killed."
She shook her head and chuckled. "Some people are so ungrateful, aren't they? Oh, well. I talked to Captain Brenner at 5th Holding. You'll be temporarily assigned to the medevac unit here unless you have something better in mind."
"Colonel Bender's outfit?" I pretended to think real hard, then said, "Well, okay, I guess. Sure. They have helicopters and other fancy toys, and I know a couple of the pilots."
Marian said, "One thing you ought to know first. Bender's not known for becoming too friendly with enlisteds."
"Doesn't matter. How temporary do you mean?"
"Until or unless something for which you're better suited comes up, according to Brenner."
"Hm. I have less than six months left. I can door-gun and I know how to do a preflight, so they'll probably leave me in medevac for the rest of my tour."
There was a tapping on the office door and Anna said, "That's Carter with our coffees."
I got up to let Carter in and take one of the cups as she came through the doorway. As she set the cups down, Anna told her I'd be joining the medevac wing and Carter looked a bit startled, then glanced from me to Marian and then at Anna.
Anna asked, "You have a question, Carter?"
Carter's discomfort was obvious as she responded, "Uh, well, ma'am... No. I guess not."
"Relax, Carter; it's not what you think. It was Captain Brenner's decision. Medevac's losing two people to rotations next month."
Looking somewhat relieved and grinning a bit sheepishly, Carter said, "Oh. Yes, ma'am," then left the office.
Marian snickered and said, "She sounded almost disappointed. I wonder what she thinks we're really about?"
With a similar snicker, Anna said, "Romance. Intrigue. The captain and the sergeant versus the Army's regs." She looked at her watch and said, "Lunchtime. If we go now, I can watch the phones while Carter's at lunch. Wish I hadn't lost Krantz. She was the best typist I've ever had."
I held up a hand and said, "I type."
With a skeptical look, Marian asked, "You mean like I type, with two fingers, or can you really type?"
"I mean like almost eighty words a minute, milady. That was a while ago, though. High school."
"Ho-ly shit," she breathed. "Eighty words a minute? For real?"
"Seventy-seven on my Army test in '67. But that doesn't help much on Army forms. Two letters here, three there, and a line or two with abbreviations and numbers. And everything goes in boxes, so..."
"Damn," said Anna, "I wish I'd known before I called Brenner." She shook her head and said, "Oh, well, too late now."
"Is it?" asked Marian. "Another call, maybe..?"
"No," said Anna. "No, it wouldn't look right. He's a medic. If I suddenly said I wanted him as a clerk typist..." Looking at me, she said, "No. I'll just borrow you now and then and try to establish a tradition of it."
Nodding, I said, "Suits me. I'll be the envy of the barracks. Everybody will be jealous as hell."
With a roll of her eyes, Anna got up saying, "Yeah, sure they will. Let's go to lunch."
Next door, Connie begged off going with us due to having too much to do at that moment, but Sandy, Karen, and Joan seemed less encumbered and joined us. When Joan heard about my new assignment, she suggested that an occasional lunch with me was one thing, but that it might not look right as a daily occurrence.
Sandy said, "He's still an old friend of Marian's, right? As long as nobody can say that it's anything more than lunch, I say to hell with it."
"I was in medevac once before," I said. "Chances are I won't be here at noon more than twice a week, anyway. We got most of our calls in the mornings and missed lunch most days. I used to keep a couple of cans of soup in my pack and stash C-rats on the birds."
A man's voice from the doorway of ward four said, "That's not a bad idea. If you're the new NCO they're sending me, that can be one of the first things you'll do."
We turned and saw a man in his thirties leaning against the doorframe of the dental ward.
Anna stopped and said, "Yes, Colonel Bender, this is your new NCO and we're on our way to lunch. Would you care to join us?"
"Thank you, Major Corinth, but I'll have to catch up with you in a few. I'm waiting for some X-rays."
Someone behind him thrust a folder through the gap between him and the door and said, "Done, sir. Thursday at nine with Dr. Rogers."
"Thanks," said Bender, pushing the folder back to the guy, "Send that to my office, please." He levered himself off the door frame and said, "I guess I can make lunch after all."
He didn't bother to conceal his appraisal of me as he approached. No salute was necessary because I was outranked in the group; a salute would have been Anna's responsibility.
As the group got underway, he asked, "Been there, done that, huh?"
"Yes, sir," I said. "Medic, door gunner, ground crew, flight crew, office clerk. We were always shorthanded, so I picked up a few things."
"So why did you wind up with Captain Drake?"
I glanced at him and said, "One of our pilots -- a close friend of the CO and XO -- used to drink on the job. I refused to fly with him after I found him halfway through a pint bottle in the middle of a run. The CO told me that the pilot had under two months to go and that I'd do my job and shut up. Push came to shove when the guy set a healthy bird down hard enough to flatten the skids. They got rid of me before the investigators could talk to me."
"Did you go over their heads with it?"
Nodding, I said, "I told Captain Drake and he talked to somebody at brigade. Gave statements and all that. Two weeks later the pilot was injured in a crash and sent back to the States. The whole mess was dropped."
A couple of steps later, Bender said, "I'll check this out, you know."
"Never thought you wouldn't, sir. My old CO and XO are gone, but you can get the details from Captain Geary at JAG. He was the one who was building the case against Captain Perrin."
Our little group sailed on for some moments before Bender said, "You're almost a short-timer, Sergeant. If you only had a month or two to go, would you risk being kept here to report a similar problem?"
"No big deal, sir. Perrin's last mission crashed on final approach with five wounded and a door gunner aboard and the bird hit hard enough that it had to be scrapped. Yes, sir, I'd rat out another drunk pilot in a heartbeat."
Bender's glance at me was accompanied by a slight nod as we entered the mess hall. Nobody spoke for several moments as we lined up and grabbed our trays.
Chapter Twenty-one
Toward the end of our lunch, someone came to the mess hall to tell Sandy she was wanted at her ward. She, Joan, and Karen departed soon after and the rest of us sat sipping coffee or cold drinks. The atmosphere at the table had changed slightly with their leaving.
With a narrow gaze, Bender glanced at each of us in turn and asked, "What don't I know about the group at this table, people?"
When everybody made an effort to look mystified and nobody answered for a few moments, he sat back in his chair, sipped his coffee, and added, "When I was a dashing young 1st lieutenant, one of my best friends was a Spec.4 from my hometown. She'd been in some of my classes in high school and she'd joined the Army primarily to get veteran's benefits for college."
After a glance at Marian and me, Anna said, "We're friends. When we aren't around other people, we use our first names."
Bender nodded. "Forgive my asking, but did you in any way use your rank to influence Captain Drake to let him go?"
"No, Colonel, I didn't."
"Are you sure Captain Drake would agree with that?"
"Yes, Colonel. He would."
With another nod to Anna, Bender turned to me and asked, "Why'd he let you go, Sergeant? 'Commander's discretion' could mean a lot of things, most of which aren't good."
With a glance at Anna and Marian, I said, "I spent too much time hunting by myself, sir. Captain Drake became concerned that he'd have to explain to people who wouldn't want to understand if I came up missing."
The Colonel met my gaze for a long moment, then asked, "You're telling me that you went looking for VC alone?"
Anna said, "Colonel, last night he came to believe that the VC might be -- uhm -- up to something, so he went to check it out. He found a large number of them and called the matter to the attention of the gunships."
With a narrow gaze, Bender asked, "You're saying that you're the one who opened fire on my gunships last night?"
"No, sir. I only pretended to shoot at them to draw fire."
Looking at Anna and Marian, Bender set his coffee down and rather incredulously asked, "He told you two something like that and you both simply believed him?"
Anna bridled sharply and quietly said, "Colonel, I suggest that you speak to Captain Drake -- in a confidential manner, not as a superior officer -- and get the details of last night before you decide to disbelieve what Ed just told you."
A pretty little silver bird on your shoulder is little protection against Anna's glare.
After a moment of meeting her unflinching gaze, Bender cleared his throat and glanced at me as he said, "Yeah. Okay. I'll talk to Captain Drake. But if this turns out to be anything less than gospel..."
I met his gaze in silence for a time before he nodded slightly, rose to his feet, said, "We'll talk later, Sergeant. Good afternoon, all," and left.
Nobody spoke for a few moments, then Marian asked, "Well, what do you think? Will he really talk to Drake?"
"Eventually," I said. "No doubt about it. The question is whether Drake will talk to him."
"He will," said Anna, looking at her watch. "Time to get back to work. Ed, go check in at 5th Holding before they think you've hopped a plane to the States or something. I'll see if I can reach Drake."
"Thank you, milady. I'll drop by the ward around closing time."
After retrieving my bags from ward seven, I headed for ICU to see Hardesty. He was awake and alert, if less than cheerful. After telling him that I'd been transferred and generally why, I asked if he'd have any problem with talking to Bender about my previous wanderings.
"No," said Hardesty. "You never once asked our permissions to take your walks, so they can't hang anything on Drake or me that we couldn't counter with a post-dated AWOL charge."
"Well, gee, LT; thanks bunches, y'know?"
Grinning, he said, "No sweat, Sarge. I'll have a nurse call his office to verify that someone I know is joining medevac. That ought to make him drop by here quick enough."
Nodding, I said, "Yeah, that ought to do it. Thanks, LT. But no fancy embellishments, okay? Bender doesn't look the type to appreciate them."
He grunted a laugh and said, "Don't worry. I'll keep it simple for him."
After some chat, a nurse chased me out and I headed for 5th Holding for reassignment. The clerk said that Captain Brenner was out for the day and that I'd be processed in the morning, then issued me some bedding and told me to find an empty bunk. I stopped at the supply room on my way to the barracks to liberate a couple of Hefty garbage bags.
In the Army you're usually issued an upright locker and a footlocker, even in temporary barracks. Being an untrusting soul, I didn't rely on a simple padlock to keep my unauthorized .45 pistol from being discovered.
After stashing my padlocked duffle bag in an upright locker, I took my ditty bag to the latrine, stepped into a stall, and ghosted. Clutching the bag to me so it would be within my field of shadow, I lifted to the roof and looked around for a likely place to stash a black garbage bag containing a .45 on a web belt with a spare box of ammo and two extra magazines.
Nothing jumped out at me right away. The flat roof was rather featureless other than having some small vents and an air conditioning unit that would have been too damp an environment for a gun.
On the other hand, I'd only have to stash the gun there for a day or so, and I could look for a better place after I moved into the medevac billets. I stuffed the bagged gun under the roofline of the A/C unit and went back inside the building to unghost and put my ditty bag in my locker.
That left me the rest of the day to kill, so I hit the PX and hung out in the library for a while, then headed for the pads when I heard helicopters approaching a little before four. After helping unload the wounded for half an hour, I ran into Captain Wilson and told him I'd be joining medevac.
"Funny you should say that," he said, "I guess they were so impressed with me that they decided to keep me, too. Got stuck in Bender's outfit. Don't know if I'll get another gunship anytime soon."
We were chatting when Bender came up behind me and asked, "Captain Wilson, do you know this man?"
"Yes, sir. He gunned for me yesterday when we dropped a pallet at T-Bird."
With a nod and a "Thank you, Captain," Bender headed for his office.
Wilson lowered his voice and asked, "What the hell was that about?"
"You're a pilot talking with a new guy. How normal is that?"
"Well, hell, I'm a new guy, too, right? But yeah, I see what you mean. Oh, well. Gotta go. Later."
As I passed Bender's office, he said, "Sergeant. I want a word with you. Come in here and close the door."
When I entered the office and saluted as required, he gestured at a chair, so I sat down.
"I spoke with Captain Drake," he said. "He wouldn't say much on the phone, but he assured me that you were transferred without any sort of prejudice. When he comes to 3rd Surgical on Wednesday, we'll talk again. In the meantime, a Lt. Hardesty called my office looking for you and I went to see him. He was considerably more willing to talk about you."
Bender stopped talking as if he expected me to say something, but when I didn't, he asked, "Would you rather be in an infantry unit?"
After searching his words and tone for signs of a threat, I said, "No, sir, a medevac unit is fine. I like helicopters."
His eyebrow went up at my last words, but he didn't repeat them or comment on them.
Instead, he rather archly said, "I see. You don't think you'll miss your nightly... uh, walks?"
"No, sir. I don't think they'll seem quite so necessary here."
"Were they really necessary out there?"
"I thought so. Others agreed and some pretended not to know, but only yesterday did anyone actually tell me to stop."
After a moment he nodded and said, "That's all for now. I saw you helping out there. Thanks for pitching in."
Nodding in return, I saluted and left his office.
Anna was wrapping up her day when I arrived at ward seven and I sat talking with Marian until she finished, then we went to the mess hall for dinner. A guy in a dress-green uniform with twin silver bars on his epaulets waved from one of the offices along the way, then hurried to catch up.
Marian introduced him as Ben Gorman, not as Captain Gorman, and that seemed not to bother Gorman at all. He shook my hand and said that any friend of Anna and Marian was a friend of his, then we continued our journey to the mess hall.
He was a dentist, and something about a dentist in the company of vampires struck me as funny. I had a mental picture of him sharpening Marian's imaginary fangs and saying, "You need to floss more often."
Dinner conversation was mostly trivia until Gorman looked at his watch and said, "Well, gotta go. I'm meeting Dorothy in fifteen."
As he took his tray to the bins, Anna smiled slightly and said, "You thought he was one of those 'other guys' in our lives, didn't you?"
With a raised eyebrow, Marian asked, "Other guys?"
"He thinks we keep a few on the side."
Marian's raised eyebrow turned to me, then her gaze turned quizzical.
"Why would you think that?"
Grinning at me, Anna asked, "Yes, Ed, why would you think that?"
"Oh, no. Huh-uh. Don't try to gang up on me here. When I said that I'd assumed that you two lovely ladies hadn't gone through life alone before I showed up, you said that we were outside some of the usual rules."
Turning her raised eyebrow back to Anna, Marian whispered, "You let him get the idea that we sleep around?"
"No," said Anna. "I might have let him get the idea that he might not be the only man in our lives, but that's all."
"Why give him either idea?"
"I didn't give him any ideas. He just assumed..."
"Apparently with no small amount of assistance," interjected Marian.
Anna clamped her lips and glared at Marian, who held her disapproving gaze for a moment, then chuckled. Then giggled.
"That would be kind of neat, wouldn't it?" she asked.
"Oh, sure," said Anna, "A few guys like Gorman wondering why they never got to sleep over and why we disappear most evenings." Shaking her head and peering at me, she added, "And wondering who else we might be with."
I almost said, "Hey, I wasn't wondering," but realized that they'd both likely target me again if I appeared too unconcerned.
Marian said, "That wouldn't be a problem if the guys were like us, but there are only six of us over here."
Okay. That comment got to me. One in a hundred thousand or so we may be, but there are one helluva lot of people in Asia.
"Um, question, there, please," I said, "Are you saying that we six are the only vampires in all of Southeast Asia?"
"No, I'm saying that we're the only American vampires. Two are up in I-Corps, near the DMZ, and there's Lt. Brooks, who runs our blood bank. Don't ask her to go hunting, by the way. She won't appreciate the offer, and you may be better off to avoid her unless you need a baggie. There are nine known Asian vampires in Korea, China, Japan, and Taiwan."
Putting aside my questions about Brooks, I thought, 'Just nine? Out of how many millions of Asians?'
"Just nine?" I asked, "Only nine?"
Anna nodded. "The same Asian vampires have been on record for close to a century. If there are more of them over here, they haven't been recorded." Pausing, she added, "Which is very possible, I suppose. There were eleven until two of the Chinese vamps were killed in the forties."
"Who killed them? And how?"
"The two who were killed were middle-men in the Chinese Communist Party, and the Taiwanese vamp has always been the prime suspect. He had to leave China when the Commies 'nationalized' his fleet of fishing boats and closed the country. A few years later both Chicom vamps were blown up in their homes by persons officially unknown."
Marian said, "The Japanese guy once said that he feels no particular imperative to convert sensitives. The Chinese guy in Taiwan apparently feels the same way, and the remaining vamps in mainland China barely communicate with the rest of us anymore. The Korean guy came right out and said that any sensitives he finds will be killed."
Anna snorted and said, "They don't like to share, I guess. I'm not prepared to believe that any of them wouldn't just as quickly kill us if they happened across us over here. I don't think they'd appreciate us converting sensitives on their turf; even non-Asian sensitives."
"Well, then," I said, "I'm kinda glad you found me first, ladies."
"As you should be," said Anna with a grin. "This would be a good time to declare your undying, eternal love and loyalty, you know."
"Ahhh, well, gee, ma'am... That's really going a bit far with things, isn't it? Especially since 'eternal' and 'undying' aren't just pretty words in our crowd. Can't we just be really good friends forever?"
"Semantics," said Marian with a smile.
I grinned at her.
"I don't mind belonging to you, milady. I just don't want to think I'm being owned outright. Pride, y'know."
"Like I said," she said, "Semantics."
Anna looked at her watch and said, "We have to change before we go out tonight. Ed, we've been meeting at Marian's BOQ room or ward two and ghosting from there. Renovations in ward two are almost finished and we can't have you coming to her room every night, so we'll have to come up with a couple of other places to meet."
"To meet?" I asked, "The roof. We can ghost almost anywhere in the hospital by going into an empty room or stepping behind a fire door."
"Good enough. See you on the roof in half an hour."
Chapter Twenty-two
Rather than take a chance that someone might be drafting people for a work detail out of 5th Holding's transient population, I stayed in the mess hall for a time after Anna and Marian left, then walked across the hall to the latrine to get rid of some used coffee and switch to ghost mode.
After retrieving my .45 from 5th Holding's roof air conditioner, I looked around and spotted the twin white-gold streaks that were Anna and Marian flitting from the BOQ entrance to its roof.
Heading their way in mild startlement, I realized that I'd never seen their auras by daylight before. In our few months together we'd met at times convenient to all concerned, which had meant after the duties of the day and usually well after darkness had fallen.
I'd been converted during what passed for winter in equatorial Southeast Asia, where seasons seemed only loosely defined by little more than the number of hours of daylight and the amount of rainfall.
We watched a few sticks of helicopters follow each other in from the west and land, then continued to watch as the dead and wounded were unloaded and crews rushed to refuel and check the birds.
"They just came in from An Khe," said Marian. "Looks as if we might be useful up there."
"Sounds good to me," said Anna. "Ed?"
Shrugging, I said, "That's where the war is tonight."
Some fifteen minutes later we hovered a thousand feet or so above what looked like a melee. Individuals and small groups were engaging each other for close to half a mile in every direction.
"How the hell did this come about?" asked Anna.
"Hard to say," I said. "Things are too mixed up to use air strikes or artillery right now, but it would probably still be a good idea to try to stay near the larger elements of our troops as much as possible."
Pointing at a tree somewhat taller than the others, Anna said, "Let's meet there in about two hours," then she dove toward a small group almost directly below us.
I spotted two of our guys trying to outrun a dozen or so VC and swooped down just as one of the GI's turned, fired twice, and ran out of ammo. The other guy fired three times, cleared his magazine, and groped vainly for another in his ammo pouch.
Another VC was hunkered in the grass only a few yards away. When he saw them run dry, he realized an opportunity and knelt upright to aim at the two Americans. I landed beside him to push his rifle sideways toward the other VC and pulled his trigger finger to fire a quick burst, then I lifted away fast.
The oncoming VC dropped flat and yelled at the shooter as the GI's ran past him. Landing again to bayonet the VC and grab his rifle, I ducked behind the nearest tree and fired two quick bursts at the pursuers as they rose to their feet. Three fell and one clutched his leg.
My tree took a lot of punishment for some moments as they returned fire. Lifting twenty feet or so, I again aimed at the group below and emptied the AK at them, then dropped it.
A dead GI lay in a shallow gully some distance away. Flitting down to grab his M-16, I aimed at the remaining upright VC and dropped him, then checked the GI's ammo pouches and found two full mags in the left one.
Both of the GI's who'd been running were hunkered about fifty feet further along the gully, trying to get their breath. One had looked my way and his eyes widened as he saw an M-16 apparently rise into the air above the dead GI, aim itself, and fire.
The other heard me fire and whipped around to see the M-16 hovering in mid-air. When I tossed the two full magazines to the ground by their feet, one yelped softly and pulled his feet back and the other simply stared my way for another moment, then grabbed a magazine, jammed it into his rifle, and seated a round.
"Thanks," he said. "You Billy's ghost or somethin'?"
I said nothing as I dropped the M-16 by the dead GI. Lifting above the gully, I looked for more VC. All around us were one or two here and three or four there.
For the next half-hour or so I kept moving, using any grenades I found and scavenging rifles and ammunition. At one point I took a web belt and ammo pouches from one of the bodies rather than stuff spare magazines into my shirt again.
The web belt was barely long enough to wrap over my own pistol belt, and as I hitched it up to fasten it, several rounds slammed into my tree. I got flat and scurried sideways, thinking I'd been seen, then wondering how I'd been seen.
Another burst hit the tree where I'd been standing. Maybe not seen, then. Heard? Scrambling around the tree, I stayed low and waited. A VC edged forward among the trees, studying the area. He stepped over the body from which I'd taken the belt, keeping his eyes on my tree.
Maybe he'd seen the belt dangling for a moment when I'd stood up and put it on. Easing my borrowed M-16 forward, I put a round in the VC's chest, then quickly rolled to my feet and moved to another tree. Two AK's fired at my previous location while I was getting up to run to the tree.
I fired back at their flashes. One grunted and tried to turn to aim at my new position, but a round in his head ended that effort. Both VC auras were fading as I lifted to look for more.
Some time later, again out of ammo, I saw two VC moving through a cluster of trees toward some GI's who'd apparently dug in earlier. Two of the GI's lay unmoving and one seemed to be trying to stop the bleeding from his own leg wound.
Pulling my .45, I flew in their direction at best speed as one of the VC covered the live GI and the other VC methodically bayoneted the two unmoving GI's, apparently making sure they were dead.
He then turned to the GI who'd been trying to patch himself up and stood unmoving before him for a moment before raising his rifle to use the bayonet again.
Using both hands and aiming carefully, I fired. My shot hit the VC's shoulder and demonstrated how hard a hollowpoint .45 round can hit. The VC was slammed sideways and knocked flat. I also discovered that firing a .45 while in flight can have serious consequences.
As recoil bucked the gun upward, my arms impacted a low limb that I'd expected to scoot under. My head hit my forearms and my forearms flashed with agony as the .45 left my grasp and flew spinning at the other VC.
My forward progress became a flip as my feet kept moving forward and I landed flat on my back below the branch. I rolled over to keep the second VC in sight, clutched my arms against myself, and lifted again.
The second VC had snapped around in a low crouch, seen nothing, and looked rather puzzled until I hit the branch. Then the spinning .45 bounced off the ground once and slammed into his left shin. The VC's mouth flew open and his eyes got big, then he lost his balance in the loose dirt and fell sideways into the GIs' hole.
The remaining GI seemed as shocked as the VC at what had happened, but he rolled to reach for the .45 with a bloody hand. The VC saw the movement and tried to bring his rifle around, but the GI's two quick shots made the VC stiffen, then fall back to lie still.
With the immediate crisis over, I took stock of things. My forearms were skinned badly and hurt like hell, but they weren't broken and they were healing fast. The GI's wound was leaking badly, but he stood a fair chance of survival if we could get him patched and out of there.
Stepping behind a tree, I took off my shirt, turned it inside out and put it back on, then said, "Hey. Don't shoot me with my own gun, okay?"
The guy had heard me moving and had aimed generally at my tree, ready to fire.
In a flat, determined tone, he said, "Eight."
"I don't know the number, but I can help you with that leg wound."
"Everybody knows the number."
"This everybody doesn't. You want some help with that leg, or should I wait 'till you pass out to get my gun back?"
After a moment, he grunted, "Show yourself."
I unghosted. Glancing around the tree, I let him see my fatigue-shirted left shoulder and face. He nodded as he lowered the .45, then eased himself flat on his back as I stepped forward.
"Where's your gear?" he asked. "Why's your shirt inside out?"
"So you can't see my nametag."
The .45 started to come back up to point at me, but I easily took it away from him and holstered it as I told him to lie still and took an aid kit from one of the other GI bodies in the hole.
Ignoring his questions, I applied a tourniquet, cleaned and bandaged his leg, then told him to lie quiet while I scavenged the bodies for rifles and ammo. After putting the two full magazines I found in one of his ammo pouches and handing him a loaded rifle, I told him to head west and pointed.
"You aren't coming, too?"
"No," I said, taking one of the other rifles and two magazines. "But I'm going to cover you until you make contact with the guys over there. Now get moving."
After a moment of staring at me, he turned to go, his own rifle in his right hand as he used someone else's as a cane. I ghosted, and when he glanced back, he looked rather confused. After another few moments, he got underway. I lifted and stayed about ten feet above him.
Some distance along, I whispered, "Stop. Wire ahead."
He stopped, looked up in consternation, then looked for the wire, saw it, and moved around it.
"I wasn't sure you were really still there," he whispered. "What the hell are you?"
"Mind your own business and keep going. You won't be able to stay on your feet much longer and I can't carry you in."
Spotting some auras gathered in a gully ahead, I told the guy to stop and wait, then flew forward. An LT and four guys stood guard over a dozen or so wounded and two medics.
Returning, I said, "Keep going about twenty yards, then get behind cover before you let them know you're there. They look kind of nervous."
The guy snorted a soft laugh and said, "Yeah, guess they might be."
Once he'd made contact, I lifted away and picked a tall tree for a coffee break. As I swigged from my canteen, I felt a presence approaching from behind me and looked, but saw only an unidentifiable white-gold aura.
Anna said, "If that's the coffee canteen, I'd like some, too."
Patting the branch, I said, "I saved you a seat, milady."
As she settled beside me, she said, "Wow. You sound really beat."
"Gee, thanks. I feel really beat."
She took the canteen and swilled some, then handed it back to me.
"Me, too, really," she said, "Seen Marian?"
"Nope. I've been busy being a guardian angel to the wounded."
"Ah. I wondered why you were just hanging around down there."
Marian's aura flashed among the trees some distance away, then changed direction to head toward us. I held the coffee canteen out as she approached and she took it and sipped from it before settling to the limb.
"Thanks," she said, "That's good stuff." After another swig from the canteen, she said, "But not quite good enough."
She handed it back to me and I took a hit from it, then passed it to Anna, who sipped and handed it back.
"Yeah," said Anna, "It's time to pick one."
I stood up, put my canteen away, and said, "Back in a minute," then dove off the branch to find a donor. Maybe a hundred yards away were two VC easing forward through the trees. I pulled my bayonet and impaled one as I passed in front of them, then arced back to nail his startled pal and haul him up to our branch.
Anna took him from me as I arrived and laid him across the limb so that he could be tilted conveniently to fill our cups. As I reached for my canteen again to take out my own cup, she stilled my reach and handed me her cup.
We sat quietly for a while, sipping and looking around in the gathering darkness as we watched auras move among the trees. They all looked the same; faint glows that surrounded each person and flared slightly when something startled their owners.
After a round of refills I lowered our VC donor quietly to the ground and returned to our branch.
"Ladies," I said quietly, "Our guys ran into three-to-one odds here. We ought to stick around and help a little more, I think."
"That's essentially what Anna just said," said Marian. "Not the part about odds, but that we ought to do a little more before we leave."
Nodding, Anna stood up on the branch and stretched, then pulled her dagger and asked, "Shall we give it another hour and meet back here?"
"Good enough," I said. "We can get a lot done in an hour."
Anna nodded, kissed me, and dove out of the tree. Marian watched her plummet, then level off at what seemed only a few feet from the ground. She shook her head.
"I still can't bring myself to do that," she said. "Even after twelve years, I sometimes get the feeling that I ought to be falling instead of flying."
She kissed me and hopped off the branch to descend more sedately as I pulled my coffee canteen out for one last swig and looked around again. It seemed to me that the best thing I could do would be to nail the VC nearest to any GI's, so I looked for small clusters of auras.
Unlike the ladies, I didn't give a damn about being quiet. When I found six US grenades on a couple of my first VC victims, I used four of them on other small groups of VC that were nearby.
Maybe a quarter-mile from the gully that served as an aid station I found what may have been a VC command position. Borrowing one of their machine guns from its dead gunner, I briefly sprayed the area, then lifted and used my remaining grenades on their radioman and someone who appeared to be ordering people around.
I'd expected a certain amount of pandemonium, but it didn't happen. The VC seemed to hunker down and wait. Some two minutes or so passed before I saw a few auras scooting around down there. They all seemed to scurry to -- and then scurry away from -- one position, so I dropped down to have a look a the spot. It was a four-foot deep circular pit that had been covered with vegetation.
Eight VC guarded all directions as other VC came and went. Two VC seemed to be issuing instructions to the visitors, occasionally consulting a third VC in the center of the position.
I located an M-16 and a few full magazines on bodies some distance away and returned, then stood where I could eliminate all three key individuals with one long burst. As I lifted fast, all eight of the guards fired at where I'd been.
Using an M-16 had been a simple terror tactic. They have their own unique sound, as do AK-47's. This time there was definitely a certain level of pandemonium. When I quietly changed magazines, I tossed the empty at someone who seemed to be trying to regain control of the group.
The magazine bounced off his pack and landed in the dirt and everybody in the hole got flat instantly. When no grenade went off, one of them scooted over to grab the magazine and whispered as he handed it to the would-be leader.
Two more joined them as I landed softly to one side of the pit and spent another magazine into the group. When I lifted, only two of the four who remained of the group fired back. They were waiting to see if I'd reveal myself again by firing at the shooters. I didn't.
Tossing the newly-empty magazine into the area, I quietly slid the new mag into place and gently seated the first round, then gave the charging handle a thump to seat it fully.
As expected, someone down there detailed someone else to go tell yet another someone about the incident. I followed the runner some distance until I could see where he seemed to be going, then bayoneted him.
Just on the other side of a small hill was a sizeable group of auras, and moving among them was an aura like mine. Whether it was Anna or Marian, she was moving quickly from position to position at a distance from the center. At each stop she left fading auras.
In the center of the group, as before, were a select few individuals who seemed to be in command. I landed where I could get most of them with a single burst and fired, then lifted as I dropped the empty magazine. Again, the space where I'd been was shredded with rifle fire.
The other vampire aura came over to silently hover near me, watching as I again descended to spray the hole from the other side and dropped my empty mag. When I headed for a tall tree nearby, she followed.
Chapter Twenty-three
As we settled onto a hefty branch, Marian unghosted and softly said, "I thought we were supposed to try to be quiet."
I unghosted and reached for my coffee canteen as I said, "Dunno why. Firing a '16 in the middle of their camp sure spooked the hell out of 'em, and the VC aren't nearly as effective without their top guys."
She shook her head as she refused my canteen and insisted, "But Anna said we should be quiet..."
"No, ma'am, she didn't say that at all. Anna pulled her knife out and dove off that branch. She didn't say word one about having to work quietly."
Swigging from my canteen, I again offered it to her. This time she took it and drank some, then made a face and handed the canteen back.
"Yuk. It's definitely better when it's fresh."
"Picky woman. We're roughing it at the moment, you know."
Anna's aura flashed upward and hovered near us. I offered her my canteen, but she said, "No thanks. You're taking a break?"
"Discussing tactics," I said. "Is there any reason to try to be quiet about shooting up a VC command center?"
Snickering, Anna said, "It might even be difficult. Why are you asking?"
"My fault," said Marian. "I thought you meant to work quietly, so I've been using only my dagger. He showed up and started blasting away at them."
"Ah," said Anna. "No, get them any way you can."
Nudging Marian's knee with mine, I grinningly muttered, "Toldja so."
"Oh, blow it out your ass," she replied, returning my grin. "Some of us haven't been to school for this kind of stuff, you know."
"That's a point, actually," said Anna, unghosting and sitting on my other side, "We've just been doing what we've always done. Why haven't you been making suggestions?"
Shrugging, I said, "There hasn't been a reason until tonight, and last-minute plans are the worst kind. The time to come up with methods and tactics is before you have to try to use them."
"Oooo," said Marian. "That sounds a lot like a quote."
"Sure it was. Most real words of wisdom are quotes." Lowering my voice to a confidential tone, I added, "That was a quote, too, y'know."
After another swig of coffee, I put the canteen away as I said, "A runner led me to this group and I've been watching to see where they'd send runners." I pointed below. "Like that one. And that one."
Two of the auras had been summoned by one of the other auras, then had been sent away. Instead of remaining within the camp, it moved past their perimeter and headed north. A few moments later another aura followed, heading toward the first camp I'd attacked.
"The second one seems to be going to the first camp I hit, so we can take him out right now. The first one may just be taking a different route, but in case he's going somewhere else, we ought to tag along."
Anna ghosted immediately and let herself topple forward off the branch, then aimed herself at the second runner. Her aura slowed only slightly as she passed very near him, then she arced skyward again. The runner stiffened and fell, sliding to a stop. His aura was already fading as Anna headed toward runner number one.
"Well, damn," I muttered softly as Marian and I ghosted to join Anna. "She never even stopped."
"She's had a lot of experience," said Marian.
"It shows."
We followed the first runner for about ten minutes as he picked his way through the trees, then Marian asked, "Why not just kill him and keep going in this direction? If there's another camp, we'll find it."
"There's a village ahead," I said. "He could pass the info to another runner or there could be a tunnel under the village."
The runner stopped at the edge of a field, then went around it until another aura challenged him from a hole among the trees. After an exchange of words, the runner continued toward the village.
In the hole we found a woman in black pajamas holding an AK. Ignoring her, we continued following the runner, who entered the second stilted hut along the path from the fields.
After a conversation with whomever was inside the hut, the runner emerged with an old woman and they went to the fourth hut, where the woman thumped her palm on the bamboo doorway.
A man came out, another conversation took place, and then they headed for the trees. They moved through some low vegetation and stopped beside a well-concealed trapdoor, then the new guy slipped a loop of wire off the trapdoor as the runner reached to open it.
That's when I sank my bayonet into the runner's chest and Anna and Marian took down the other two.
We lifted the bodies into the trees and sat sipping from Anna's cup as we waited for further developments.
"Now what?" whispered Anna. "I'm not going down that hole."
"Me, neither," said Marian. "I've heard about all the booby traps."
"They didn't get the info," I said. "Let's just hide these bodies and see who shows up next."
After about ten minutes someone peeked out of the fourth hut and looked around, then went to the second hut and thumped the wall.
When I slid off our branch and headed down to the village, Anna and Marian followed. Nobody came to the door, so the aura pushed the hanging mat aside and looked inside the hut, then turned and looked toward the trees for a moment.
As the aura passed about ten feet below us, we could see that it belonged to a young woman. She studied the area around the trapdoor, but didn't go near it. After a couple of thoughtful minutes, she headed farther into the trees in a westerly direction.
I said, "She's going to let someone know there's a problem. One of you stay here and nail anyone else who comes near the trapdoor. The other comes with me."
"I'll stay," said Marian, and Anna and I lifted to follow the woman.
Maybe fifty yards away she found what she was looking for; another trapdoor. Instead of simply lifting it, she groped around it in the dirt until she found a wire, then slipped the attaching loop off the trapdoor and started to lift the door.
That's when I used my bayonet and lifted her some distance away into the woods. When I returned, I followed the wire to a pair of grenades that were concealed at the base of a tree.
Cutting the grenades away from the tree, I tied them to the lacings that held the bamboo trapdoor together. Anna watched as I restrung the wire under the lacings to a nearby tree root, then re-straightened the cotter pins and lifted away.
At the first trapdoor we'd found I did the same thing with the grenades I found by following the wire, then we lifted away from the area to watch the village a little longer. When nothing else happened for close to half an hour, I suggested we leave.
"Maybe the sentry's replacement is down in the tunnel," I said, "Doesn't matter. The info didn't get through and we don't have anything to blow the place up. Any ideas about how to let someone know about the tunnel?"
As we lifted away from the tree, Marian said, "Just draw a map and drop it where the right people will find it, I guess."
We were nearly a mile away when there was an explosion behind us. Turning to look, we saw nothing, of course. Grenades don't make enough smoke to be seen at that distance under the faint moon. A few moments later there was another explosion, but we'd already continued our flight, so we missed that one, too.
Marian asked, "Do we really want to go back to the battlefield?"
"We'll fly over it on the way back," said Anna. "I don't suppose we have to stop, though."
"I have a magazine left and somebody's M-16," I said. "I could visit the command center again and wake everybody up, then drop the rifle in the gully with our people."
"Sounds good," said Anna.
At each VC encampment, I landed quietly, sprayed the largest group of VC available, and lifted. As we flew over the US group, I dropped down to quietly lay the rifle beside a guy who had no aura, then we flew on.
We spotted a stream below, but again Marian spoke her reservations.
"I have a bottle of spiced rum in my room," she said. "Let's call it a night and go have some."
She seemed in an odd mood. When Anna agreed, I did, too, and we headed back to the BOQ. Once we were all in her room and unghosted, we each had a small glass of the spiced rum as we picked places to sit.
Marian seemed somber for a time, but her mood improved a bit as we drank and talked about nothing in particular. Anna took the conversational lead and kept it rather light, making no references to the evening.
After we showered together and partied quietly for a while, Marian's mood had improved to the point that she was giggling now and then at things that didn't seem particularly funny to me at all.
Somewhere around midnight Marian yawned and seemed to just drift off to sleep on the bed. Anna and I each kissed her and ghosted to let ourselves out of the room.
We floated down the hall to Anna's room, where she said, "I'd really like to unwind a bit. Just walk for the sake of walking, you know? Let's go to the mess hall. You can leave your .45 in my room and pick it up tomorrow."
Without unghosting, I gave her my web belt and pistol and she hung it with hers in the closet, then we let ourselves out of the room and floated toward the mess hall.
She ducked behind a fire door and unghosted. I floated ahead to do the same behind the next set of fire doors and met her there, then we walked on to the mess hall as if we'd simply chanced to meet in the corridor.
Tapping two cups of coffee, we chose a nearby table and sat down. No sooner than she'd sat, Anna sighed deeply and drummed a nail on her cup as she stared into the coffee.
"Sometimes Marian has trouble with what we do," she said softly. "The spiced rum and scintillating conversation didn't perk her up, Ed. The virus did it. It doesn't like us to be too depressed for too long at a time."
I quietly let that bit of info sink in as she continued, "By morning she'll feel fine again." Snorting softly, she gave me a wry grin as she added, "She'll be a little confused about that, too. She always is; even though she knows what the virus does about depression."
"This happens often?"
"Well, no. Sometimes after a really bad day in the ER. Sometimes after a hunt. Offhand, I'd say that someone like Marian really shouldn't be either an ER nurse or a vampire, but things are as they are."
We talked for perhaps half an hour before two guys walked into the mess hall; an enlisted and none other than Captain Wilson, who seemed quite surprised to see me sitting with the redheaded major from ward seven.
"Hey, Sarge," he said, then looking at Anna, "Hi. Major Cornice, isn't it? They got you on a night watch, too?"
As he got a coffee and came to stand by the table, Anna said, "Good try, but it's 'Corinth', not 'Cornice', and no, I'm not on watch."
"Sorry," said Wilson. "Want some company? As long as I don't wander too far and Morey, there, can find me..." He noddingly indicated the enlisted guy filling a tray with coffee cups to take to the medevac office.
Standing up, Anna said, "Well, I was about to go try to get some sleep." Extending a hand to me, she said, "Ed, good luck in your new assignment. Col. Bender's not a bad guy to work for, I hear."
"Thanks, Major," I said, standing and taking her hand. "And if you don't mind my saying so, I kind of wish they'd sent me to ward seven."
She smiled slightly and said, "Thanks, but you'd get damned tired of all the typing pretty quickly."
As Anna walked away, Wilson and I both watched, of course. While her jeans weren't tight-fitting, they moved with her solid stride and it wasn't too hard to envision the woman beneath the fabric.
"Don't let the Army catch you eyeballing a major like that," said Wilson with a grin. "They'll bring back flogging just for you. What'd she want with a lowly sergeant?"
"Someone told her I can type. When she saw me in the hall..."
"Oh, wow. Instant popularity, huh?"
"Well, I'm not sure I'd call it that, y'know, but..."
"Can you really type, or did you just put that down to see if it would get you an office job?"
"Yeah, I can type, Cap. No idea how fast these days, though. You won't tell Bender, will you? It isn't one of my favorite things to do."
"Nah. I won't rat on you. Tell me, though, would it be your favorite thing to do if you were doing it in Major Corinth's ward?"
Grinning, I said, "Probably only until she left the room."
"Oh, yeah. Roger that. What're you doing up at this hour?"
"Talking to officers, I guess, but I guess I ought to at least give sleep a shot sometime before dawn."
"Yeah, probably, especially if you're reporting to Bender tomorrow. We may be going out to An Khe to work with 25th."
Nodding, I said, "And I'll bet the Army'll wake us up early, as usual. Later, Cap. Put your coffee on my tab, okay?"
He grinned and said, "Already did. See ya."
As I left, he said, "Hey, Morey, put some of those on another tray and I'll help you carry 'em."
Chapter Twenty-four
Yeah, the Army got us up early, as usual, but the clerk who handled my paperwork managed to take almost an hour to get everything ready for his CO's signature, so it was almost nine when I finally reported to medevac.
Colonel Bender was on his way in from the flight line as I handed my paperwork to the company clerk. Bender spoke to some people on the way into the building, then came to the clerk's desk.
"You're just now getting here?" he asked.
"Sorry, Colonel. They let me out of 5th Holding about five minutes ago. I came straight here."
He consulted the wall board and said, "You're with Captain Berman's crew this trip. Pad six. Get your gear from Sgt. Davis and leave your stuff in my office."
Five minutes later I reported to Berman's chopper and we lifted off maybe five minutes after that. To the rest of the crew I was the new guy, and they treated me as such until we'd hauled our first load of wounded.
While we'd been on the ground my job had been to help load and secure our passengers. Once we were in the air, I was a medic. By the time we'd returned to 3rd Surge, I was a crewmember; all it takes is a demonstration of reasonable proficiency to gain acceptance.
I was put on Wilson's chopper for my second trip that morning. We picked up five wounded and returned, then went back out almost immediately, taking time only to refuel.
It was like that until two in the afternoon. We made as many as three trips an hour until the chopper developed a problem on a return trip and Wilson had to put it down half a mile short of the strip.
Pointing at a hole in the bird's skin, he said, "Chuckie got lucky with that one. Probably happened at LZ X-ray," then he helped us offload the wounded into ambulance vans.
We -- the crew -- stayed with the chopper until a retrieval team came for it, then rode to the ops building in jeeps. Bender was furious, but not with us. Wilson's injured bird made a total of four that couldn't be allowed to fly.
Crews don't like to switch helicopters. They become used to their own, and this crew was no exception. Everybody was bitching and grousing as we made another run in one that had just come out of the shop.
The bird performed well, though, and the bitching had just about run its course when, as we were landing to pick up wounded during our second run, Chuckie got lucky again.
A flurry of rounds hit the bird in a diagonal line that ran from the top of the engine cowling to just behind the copilot's seat. Whatever they hit simply turned the engine off and we gyroed the last few yards to the ground with an impact that flattened one of the skids.
Knowing that the inert bird would instantly become a target, we all got the hell out of it and away from it as we watched Wilson try to get it restarted. Just as he gave up and started to climb out, a mortar round landed some distance behind the chopper.
Another one landed closer as he made it to the ground and began running, then another one seemed to land smack in the middle of the bird and blew the helicopter apart as Wilson almost dove to join us in a depression that looked like an old shell crater.
"They fucking missed me!" he crowed, grinning like an idiot as he briefly knelt upward to give the surrounding woods the finger with both hands.
"Not quite," I said. "Hold still."
From his left shoulder I pulled a narrow, two-inch sliver of metal and handed it to him, then Tocelli helped him get his shirt off and I bandaged the area as Wilson stared at the metal fragment.
"Is it bad?" he asked.
"Nope. It stuck in the muscle above your collarbone. It may hurt some for a while, but it's barely worth a Heart, Cap."
"Don't bullshit me," he snapped.
"I'm not. You'll be lucky if you can get a few days off for it."
Tocelli backed me up.
"Really, Cap. My little brother done worse to me with a pencil once." He pointed to his left thigh and said, "Lil' bastid drove it all the way to the bone right there. Hurt like a sumbitch. The point's still in there."
His anxiety subsiding a bit, Wilson said, "Looks like we hitchhike home, guys. Let's find whoever's in charge and join the infantry for a while."
And so it went. By late afternoon we owned the area well enough that our helicopters were landing without opposition and we caught a ride back to 3rd Surge on one that carried out only the day's dead.
As we headed into the ops building, someone told Wilson that Bender wanted to see us, but we found his office locked and Bender missing. The clerk told us that he'd gone to chow, so we cleaned up a bit and headed for the mess hall to see about feeding ourselves as we waited.
Bender was at a table with six other officers, one of whom was Anna. She looked up and smiled slightly at me as I walked past the table, but said nothing. Bender saw her look up and glanced at me. I nodded. He nodded in return, then it was time for me to grab a tray and get in line.
Except for my gear in his office, I had no reason to think there was any pressing reason that Bender might want to see me, so once I'd eaten, I went by their table and waited for Bender, the senior officer, to acknowledge me.
"Yes, Sergeant?"
"Sir, they just brought out some lemon meringue pie, and..."
He gave me a sharp look as he asked, "Are you asking me if I want some, Sergeant?"
"No, Colonel. That might be considered brown-nosing, but I was going to sneak some into ICU for LT Hardesty. Unless you need me back at ops right away, that is. I can get my gear out of your office later or move it before I go."
Anna chuckled and Bender glanced at her, then he turned back to me and asked, "You're going to sneak it into ICU, huh?"
"That's the current plan, sir."
Making a thoughtful face for a moment, he asked, "I haven't had dessert yet. Do you think you'll need any help?"
"I might need help carrying stuff if we take enough for all of us and some coffee to wash it down."
"Are you sure he's allowed coffee and meringue pie?"
"He was hit in the leg and shoulder, Colonel. The coffee may be off-limits with his current meds, but I'd bet the pie isn't." Shrugging, I added, "And if it is, it won't go to waste up there. They have a fridge."
"I'd like to come along," said Anna. "My friend Captain Hartley won't be getting off before seven the way things are going, and you've mentioned Lieutenant Hardesty once or twice, but I've never met him."
I met her gaze and said, "Major, I have no doubt at all that the LT would be very happy to see you."
"Then it's settled," said Bender. "Let us know when you're ready to travel, Sergeant."
"Will do, Colonel. Stand by one."
When I said Colonel Bender was going to help me sneak a pie to a guy in ICU, the cook went to the table to verify my claim. He returned to the line and gave me an aluminum tray with a covered platter for the pie, saying only that he wanted his hardware back, but saying it very firmly.
Anna gathered plates, silverware, and napkins, and I put four coffee cups upside down on a tray that I set on the table next to the pie, then went to see the cook about a one-gallon thermos, the smallest size he was likely to have on hand.
After filling the thermos, I put it on the tray with the cups, plates, and silverware, lifted the tray, and said, "Ready."
That left the pie to carry, of course. Bender picked it up before Anna could reach for it and said, "Let's go, then."
We trooped up the hallway to ICU, where a nurse captain stopped us, discussed the purpose of our visit, and then checked Hardesty's chart as I looked over her shoulder at his meds list.
"You have half an hour," she said, slicing a relatively tiny chunk of pie and putting it on a plate. "He gets this piece and he doesn't get coffee. I just gave him his meds and I'd like him to keep them down."
Looking at Anna, she added, "You're in charge in there, Major. This bit of pie only and no coffee, right?"
"No problem," said Anna with a nod.
The nurse went to Hardesty's door and told him he had visitors, then told us to wait a minute and went into the room. When she came out, she held the door open as we carried the stuff in.
Hardesty had obviously taken a minute to spiff up; his hair was combed, his sheets were tucked, and there were beads of moisture in the mouthwash cup on his bedside table.
I said, "Your warden, there, is allowing us to bring you a truly miniscule bit of lemon meringue pie, LT." Turning to the nurse, I asked, "Will it be all right if we leave what we don't eat with you, warden?"
"Oh, I think so," she said, grinning as she turned to leave the room.
"LT," I said, "This is Major Corinth of ward seven, and I think you've already met my new boss, Colonel Bender of medevac."
"I have," he said, shaking hands with all of us. "What's the occasion?"
"No occasion," I said. "I just felt like sneaking you some pie tonight and they were kind enough to help me get past your guards with this stuff."
Anna smiled and shrugged as he looked at her and Bender said, "That's about it. He told us what he was going to do and we couldn't let him try it alone."
Putting the tray across the arms of a chair, I handed Hardesty his tiny piece of pie and glanced at Anna.
"Aspirin was on his meds list," I said. "Two of them have more caffeine than a cup of coffee."
"No," said Anna. "Coffee's also a diuretic and a mild antihistamine."
Sighing for show, I said, "Aye, aye, ma'am." Turning to Hardesty, I said, "No coffee, LT. Suffer gracefully."
He chuckled and I sliced pie for the others and myself, then poured coffee and handed everything around as needed. Hardesty reached for his water glass and lifted it in a toast.
"Here's to grand gestures involving lemon meringue pie," he said, "And to people willing to help a friend cheer up a friend."
Hitching himself up in the bed a bit, he said, "Seriously, I'm glad you all dropped by. This is the worst time of the day, you know. Between now and nine, everything that can possibly hurt gears up to try to keep you awake."
In an aside to Bender, I said, "They found out he's allergic to the good stuff, so they have to give him too much of the almost-good stuff."
Bender snorted a short laugh, then realized that I didn't seem to be kidding.
He turned to Hardesty and asked, "Is that true?"
"Oh, verily, Colonel," said Hardesty, swallowing some pie. "They found out I'm allergic to pentathols in the OR. Had to revive me twice."
As he forked loose another bite of pie, he said, "And they're still trying to figure out how much of what'll work for pain and what it won't combine with decently. I spent some time this morning in never-never land. Hate that spaced-out feeling. I'd rather have the pain, I think."
We talked about a lot of things during that half hour; whether he'd stay in the Army for a while yet or take his few medals and go back to college, what kind of car he'd buy, and other such speculations, then Hardesty said something that made Bender sit straight and stare at me.
"...And another thing I'm going to do when I get back," said Hardesty, "I'm going to get a .45 like yours, Sarge. I'll never forget how you just hauled that thing out of the holster and knocked that rat over, zip-bam, like there was nothing to it. Is Col. Bender letting you carry it?"
Looking at Bender and Anna, I said, "Uhm. Well, LT... I hadn't really asked him about it yet. A friend's keeping it for me right now."
Bender's gaze narrowed and he asked, "You have a .45?"
"Oh, damn," muttered Hardesty.
I nodded. "Yes, sir. In my old outfit I carried it instead of a '16."
"Why was it issued to you?"
"Ah... It wasn't, sir. It was given to me."
"By whom?"
Anna sighed and said, "By me, Col. Bender. It was given to me, but we nurses aren't allowed to wear sidearms around the hospital. I'm keeping it for him at the moment."
"Why wasn't it returned to the Army?"
"The Army didn't issue it," said Anna. "It's a civilian model someone brought in from Thailand last year."
After a pause, Bender said, "Major, please bring or send it to my office tomorrow." She nodded, then he looked at me again and asked, "You're really good with it?"
Hardesty answered that for me with a measure of enthusiasm, possibly to try to make up for having mentioned the gun in the first place. He lifted his hand to point at the wall, pretended to aim for a split-second, and said, "Boom. Just like that, sir. The rat was about fifty feet away. Sarge yanked that gun out and popped it like it was only ten feet away, twice as big, and wearing black pajamas."
Anna snickered, then snorted a laugh.
"I see," said Bender. Turning to me, he asked, "Is that even close to being the truth, Sergeant?"
Nodding slightly, I said, "Fifty feet sounds about right, but we never did find out if the rat was VC or NVA." Pausing, I said, "Yes, sir. I'm good with it and I carry ten Army-issue magazines in each ammo pouch. That's a hundred and forty rounds instead of eighty for an M-16."
"I know what a .45 magazine holds," said Bender. "We'll talk about it tomorrow. I'll want to see you use it, too."
Hardesty grinned at me, but got rid of the grin when Bender turned to face Anna and said, "Whether he carries it or not, he'll need a receipt of some sort that I can place on file, Major."
"No problem, Colonel. It will arrive with the weapon."
As soon as we'd all finished our pie, I stacked plates on the tray and took the rest of the pie to the nurses' station, delaying my return for a few minutes on general principles.
When I returned, chairs had been pulled closer to the bed and the talk was a little more intense, having to do with those things that allow people to find the less trodden paths to friendship by circumventing matters of rank and other issues.
Some fifteen minutes beyond our allotted half hour the duty nurse tapped on the door and said it was time to leave.
After handshakes, Bender asked, "By the way, do you play chess?"
"Not as well as I'd like to," said Hardesty.
"You may get some practice before you leave," said Bender. "If the war doesn't interfere, that is."
"I'd like that, sir."
Nodding, Bender stepped out of the room and headed down the hall.
"I'll drop by now and then, too," said Anna.
"God, yes, please do," said Hardesty. "Anytime at all."
I shook my head and said, "No, no, LT. Don't sound too eager. It either scares them off or makes 'em take you for granted."
Anna turned to me and drily said, "Do let me know if I start to look scared, Sergeant."
"Oh, uh, yes, ma'am. Will do, ma'am. Will you also want to know when you start taking him for granted, ma'am?"
Laughing, she said, "No, Sergeant. That won't be necessary."
With a small wave and a smile that lit up the room, she stepped out and the door closed. I picked up the tray holding remnants of the visit and headed for the door, realizing that opening it would require free hands.
"You have some interesting friends," said Hardesty.
As I tried to snag the door handle with a finger, I said, "You should know, LT. You're one of them."
"What was this visit really about?"
"Disrupting your quiet evening. Politics. Sneaking pie into ICU."
The door was a tight fit in the frame and had a pneumatic closer at the top that seemed determined to fight me. As I pulled harder, it hissed at me, but it gave in and let the door open.
Hardesty said, "Bring her by again sometime, will you?"
Backing around the door, I said, "Might just do that. Get some rest, LT. See you later."
"Yeah, see you later. Thanks."
At the nurses' station I found Anna talking to the nurse who'd granted our lemon meringue visit. The nurse had already stashed the rest of the pie. They watched as I spread out the plates and set the pie tray on top of them, then put the cups on the tray and covered them with the lid.
I nodded to Anna as if to a friendly officer, then headed toward the mess hall with the trays. She concluded her conversation with the nurse and caught up with me.
"What was that visit really about?" she asked.
"Funny. LT asked me the same thing."
"Well?"
"Just introducing people to each other, milady. Hardesty's up there alone; that has to be a drag. Bender's a workaholic. Odds are that he's in his office right now, even though all the birds came back in before five."
"And me?"
"Well, I could say that you were just decoration -- because you can't deny that you're gorgeous, milady -- but I don't want to get hurt, so I'll tell you the truth."
In a droll tone, Anna said, "Yeah, good thinking. Spill it."
"Your presence tempered the usual macho crap that men hand each other when one of them is hurt. You made people actually talk instead of bantering and bullshitting. Bender is now lightly linked to both of us through Hardesty. When Hardesty leaves, that linking will still be there, and it will extend to Marian and anyone else he associates with us."
"Just like that, you think he's now attached to us in some way?"
Nodding, I said, "Yup. Could be he'll turn out to be a friend instead of just an acquaintance with some rank. If he doesn't let it go that far, we can still ask him for favors if we don't abuse the privilege."
"Favors? For instance..?"
Glancing at her, I said, "Time off so you can borrow me sometimes. Stuff like that. He probably won't be inconvenient about things without good reasons. How's Marian today?"
"As I said she'd be, she's fine. She'd have been at the table if not for an ammo dump accident that filled the ER this evening. Someone on a forklift dropped some stuff and some of it went off. The funny thing is that every damned one of them will probably get Purple Hearts due to one person's screwup."
By the mess hall doors, she finished with, "So, if we go out tonight, it'll be after eight. I was thinking about just grabbing a few bags of today's donations from the lab. We can picnic on the roof and relax."
"Sounds good, milady. I'll dump this stuff, then get my gear out of Bender's office and find a bunk and a locker."
"Sounds good," said Anna, heading toward the ER. "I'll bring your gun to the roof in case we decide to fly after all."
"Thanks, Anna."
Bender was in his office when I arrived. He looked up and told me to come in, then gestured at the chair by his desk. I sat down.
"We haven't had a chance to talk about what happened today, Sergeant. Any comments about your last run?"
Shaking my head, I said, "Nope, not really, sir. They got lucky and knocked us down. Couldn't be helped."
He seemed thoughtful for a moment, then asked, "What was that visit with Lt. Hardesty really about? Your .45?"
I studied his face as if trying to determine to what level of truth to apply, then said, "No, sir. I'd planned to mention the .45 later and see if you'd let me carry it. All we did was make LT feel less like a prisoner and more like a patient. He had some difficulty accepting his situation; most wounded do. Social politics, too, to a limited degree. It seems likely that Major Corinth now thinks more highly of both of us. I think she was surprised to learn that you play chess."
"But what did you get out of it?" Holding up a hand, he amended, "That is; what do you think you got out of it?"
Shrugging, I asked, "Personally? Well, sir, probably not much beyond pie and coffee. I'm pretty sure LT's going home; I've seen his kind of wounds before. And I'm already as friendly with Major Corinth as I'm ever likely to be, and I'm not expecting you to put me in a cozy, air conditioned office or give me a week off to go party in Thailand."
Chuckling, I said, "In other words, nothing tangible, but years from now we'll remember the lemon meringue pie visit as one of those warm, fuzzy moments in the middle of our war. After spending a few minutes wondering where everybody is and what they're doing, it'll be filed away until we need it again."
"Until we need it again?"
Nodding, I said, "Sure, sir. Like some of the odd things that happened during my Dad's time in the island campaigns in WW-2. They'll be conversation pieces or moments of personal comfort under similar circumstances, whether they're our own circumstances or a friend's. Or maybe we'll see or smell a lemon pie and just remember things for a while, and whatever may be bugging us at that time won't seem quite so heavy or important compared to this time of our lives."
Bender looked at me for another long moment, then asked, "What's the nature of your relationship with Major Corinth?"
"We're friends, sir. Not like we might be if we were in the civilian world, but friends of a sort. Same with Captain Hartley. And some of the nurses in ward six. We used to have lunch together when I was able to get here. Table talk."
"Don't you have any enlisted friends?"
"In my old outfit. None here yet."
"I see. Grab your gear, Sergeant. I'm going to lock up."
Chapter Twenty-five
As Anna had suggested, we held a picnic on the roof, but postponed it until after sundown. Marian had brought half a dozen baggies in a cooler from the blood lab and Anna had brought some Cokes in another cooler.
I'd purloined some lawn chairs from behind the recreation center and we sat talking and sipping to music from Anna's portable radio as I laid my .45 on newspapers and began disassembling it for a thorough cleaning.
"I don't see how you can do that in the dark," said Marian.
"Look at all the lights around here. It isn't all that dark."
"It's dark enough that I can't see what you're doing."
"You could move down here and sit real close, sweetie."
Anna snickered and Marian said, "No thanks, I'd come away covered in gun oil."
"That's a definite possibility. You might even like it, ma'am."
"Eeewww. I think not."
"Don't you ever clean yours?"
She archly replied, "Yes. You've seen me do it, remember?"
"Oh, yeah... Just once. As I remember it was like watching surgery."
Laughing, Anna said, "Yeah, it is. Sometimes she wears gloves."
Marian held out a hand as if examining her nails and airily said, "That's because the carbon-remover stuff takes the polish off my nails."
After watching Marian and listening to her for a while, I'd concluded that Anna had likely been right about her recovery from whatever had ailed her the night before.
"Think Bender'll let him carry it?" Marian asked Anna. "Or will he just try to confiscate it?"
"Hard to say. He could definitely confiscate it, but if he does, he'd better not try to carry it himself. Any regs he might try to apply to Ed would also apply to him concerning a non-issue weapon."
"I don't think he'd do that," I said. "If he pulled it, he'd likely turn it in to the Provost Marshal's office." Looking up from swabbing the bore, I grinningly added, "And one of them would end up keeping it, and Bender probably knows that."
"Yeah, but would he care?" asked Anna.
The song ended and the announcer said in stentorian tones, "It isn't easy to throw your weapons aside and willingly put your life in the hands of men whom you've been fighting for years, but that is exactly what the enemy is doing under the 'Chu Hoi' program. This is one of the most important and dramatic programs the South Vietnamese have ever initiated. You, the American fighting man, can help. If the enemy comes to you, don't mistreat him. Show him the respect he deserves."
After the briefest of pauses, a less dramatic voice advertised that "The USO is a place where the American serviceman can find a touch of home," then a chorus of womens' voices sang, "A-F-R-T-N... Remember..!" and the Byrds' 'Turn, Turn, Turn' began playing.
More than halfway through the song, Anna asked, "You think the VC ever listen to to those commercials?"
"You mean the Chu Hoi program thing?" I asked, putting my .45 back together, "Doubtful. A VC who owns a portable radio is rare enough to begin with. Would he want to get caught listening to our stations on it? Very doubtful."
Marian asked, "What do our guys think of the Chu Hoi program?"
"Not much," I said. "They're letting supposedly ex-VC join the South Vietnamese army. When we have to work with 'em, we try not to let them get behind us. 'Course, we do that with all the ARVN outfits. The only units you can depend on are the 'Yards and Nungs."
An announcer proclaimed, "This is AFRTN, serving the American fighting man twenty-four hours a day from the Delta to the DMZ, with transmitters in Da Nang, Qui Nhon, Pleiku, Nha Trang, and with our key network station in Saigon, Vietnam!" then the DJ played a motown tune called 'If I Could Turn Back the Hands of Time'.
Marian began drumming her nails on the arm of her lawn chair and humming along with the song as a helicopter flew over, then returned and circled us twice maybe five hunred feet up.
We waved and tipped our drinks at it, then it landed on one of the pads not far away. Two guys got out of the helicopter. One stood looking our direction as the other went into the ops office.
"Ah, hell. We may get some company," I said, "Give me the baggies and I'll get rid of them."
Ghosting as Anna passed me baggies from a cooler, I flew to the next roof to dump them down an incinerator smokestack and returned.
"How did we get up here?" I asked.
"What?" asked Marian.
"There's no ladder," I said. "No stairwell to the roof. How did we get up here? They may want to know. We need to get rid of the guns, too."
"They're painting the chapel," said Anna, sliding to her knees to get low against the roof. "We'll borrow a ladder and leave the guns there for an hour or so. Come on."
After taking Marian's web belt and pistol, she ghosted and lifted and I followed her. At the chapel we found an extension ladder and quickly hauled it back to place it against the wall on the side away from the ops office. After extending it to the right length, we flitted back over the roof before unghosting.
We were back in our chairs as the helicopter lifted again and drifted over to hang above us. The wind from it knocked the ladder away and Anna put a hand on my chair to hold it down as I went to look over the edge, then look up at the chopper with a 'what the hell..?' gesture.
It was only a one-story building, so I placed a hand on the roof and hopped down to the ground, put the ladder back, and climbed back up. The helicopter had backed off a bit, but I used the loop at the end of the ladder to secure it to a bent nail in the flashing, one probably left from Christmas lights or Halloween decorations.
A couple of MP jeeps pulled up beside the building as the helicopter returned to the pad. Anna, Marian, and I watched two of them climb the ladder to step onto the roof; a buck sergeant and a private with a radio.
The sergeant looked us over once, then asked, "What do you people think you're doing up here?"
"We're taking a break from the war," said Marian, "And we rather obviously aren't VC, so what's the problem?"
Stepping forward, the MP said, "The problem is that you aren't supposed to be up here, ma'am."
Anna stepped forward a pace and said, "Sergeant, I'm Major Corinth. Show me the specific regulation or general order that says that my friends and I can't sit on the roof of my own ward."
"Ma'am, I..." he glanced at the other MP and said, "We'll need to see some ID, please."
"No problem," said Anna, and she pulled her slim wallet from her back pocket, as did Marian, "Once you know who we are, you can leave."
"Uh, well..."
"That wasn't a suggestion, Sergeant. If there's a problem about our being up here, it doesn't have to be your problem. Someone will let me know about it during business hours tomorrow. Good enough?"
"Uh, yes, ma'am. I guess. I'll have to check in about it."
"Do that. Who's the duty officer tonight?"
"Major Randolph, ma'am."
'Good,' I thought. 'Someone who knows all of us.'
"I'd like a word with him," said Anna.
After the MP had made contact, he handed the radio to Anna.
"Hi, John," she said. "This is Anna Corinth. Is there a problem?"
"Well, I don't really know," he said. "What are you doing up there?"
"Hartley and I are drinking Cokes and talking about the world."
"Who's the guy with you?"
"Ed. A good friend of his is in ICU; a Lt. Hardesty."
Randolph laughed and said he'd heard about the lemon pie, then said, "Look, there's nothing in my instructions about nurses on roofs, so I'm not going to write it up unless you fall or something. Good enough?"
"Great. Thanks, John."
"No problem. Let me have the sergeant again."
She handed the radio to the sergeant. After being told to forget it, the MP's climbed back down the ladder and left. We settled back into our chairs with fresh Cokes and Anna turned up the radio a notch.
A canned radio announcement said, "The American Forces Vietnam Network, in cooperation with the Army and Air Force motion picture service, present today's theater schedule," then the live DJ cut in with, "If you're inclined to go to the flicks today..." and rattled off what was showing where.
"At Tan Son Nhut, Theater One is 'Little Big Man', with Dustin Hoffman; 'The Deserter' is showing at Tan Son Nhut Two with Richard Crenna; MACV Annex has 'One More Train to Rob,' with George Peppard; MACV Compound is showing 'RPM', with Anthony Quinn. At Bien Hoa, Lee Marvin & Clint Eastwood are in 'Paint Your Wagon'; at Can Tho is Walt Disney's 'The Aristocats' animated feature; and at Vung Tau, Alan Arkin's in 'Catch 22'. Da Nang Theater number 1 is showing 'Diary of a Mad Housewife', with Richard Benjamin and Carrie Snodgrass; Da Nang Theater number 2, 'A New Leaf', with Walter Matthau and Elaine May; Da Nang Freedom Hill has 'Zepplin' with Elke Sommer and Michael York. At Phu Cat you can see Gregory Peck and Tuesday Weld in 'I Walk the Line'; at Tuy Hoa is Richard Burton in 'Raid on Rommel'; 'The Beguiled' is showing at Cam Ranh Bay, with Clint Eastwood and Geraldine Page; and finally, at Phan Rang, 'Rio Lobo', with John Wayne and George Rivero. And now... MORE MUSIC!"
As another motown song came on, Anna said, "I'd like to see the one with Walter Matthau. He's always funny as hell."
"I want to see 'Diary of a Mad Housewife'," said Marian. "I read the book some time ago. Which one would you want to see, Ed?"
"Hm. 'Zepplin', I guess. Elke Sommer's in it."
"Figures," said Marian.
"Hey, you know how men are," I said with a grin. "Doesn't matter, though. Everything we picked is way the hell up the street at Da Nang. We'll have to wait for them to switch the shows around."
Sometime around ten we climbed down the ladder only to make sure that we were seen doing so and made a production of carrying the ladder back to the chapel and the lawn chairs back to the rec center, then headed into the hospital complex, where we split up for the evening.
Through the barracks window, I saw one of the ladies' auras flash to a stop on the chapel roof briefly and then zip back to where Anna was standing by a door. Stretching and yawning, Anna pushed the door open and went inside, followed closely by Marian's aura.
Wilson, his new copilot Franges, a crew chief, and I were checking and stocking Wilson's new helicopter when I was summoned to Bender's office around nine the next morning. My gun and belt were on Bender's desk and a couple of sheets of paper lay on top of them.
Bender waved me to a chair after our official greetings and handed me one of the typewritten sheets, then he lifted my gun out of the holster and studied it. He dropped the clip and racked it open to check the breech, and I heard people whispering in the outer office.
"That paper's your proof of ownership," said Bender. "There'll be a copy in my safe and one in your 201 file, as well."
Leaning back in his chair, he examined my .45 for a moment, then he asked if I'd like a coffee.
"Yes, sir. A coffee sounds good."
Nodding, he rather flatly said, "Get me a cup, too. Black."
I rose and went out to the coffee urn past a number of stares, then ran the same gauntlet on my return trip, just as Bender had known I would.
He thumbed the slide release and the slide noisily slammed forward, then he aimed it at the wall clock and said, "Close the door. Everybody's seen enough for now."
After I was seated, he said quietly, "If I simply let you carry this thing, it won't be long before everybody will want to carry some kind of non-issue weapon." He chuckled softly. "And we can't have that, of course, but... If you could do something that would allow me to award you the privilege of carrying it, nobody will be able to bitch."
Leaning forward to place the gun on the desk, he continued, "So you'll have to earn that privilege, I'm afraid. Are you up for a little challenge?"
"If I win, I wear it, and if I lose, it stays in your safe?"
"That's the deal."
Shrugging, I said, "Guess so, sir. What's the challenge?"
With a grin, he asked, "Do you know Sgt. Ainsley?"
"No, sir. Haven't met him yet."
"You will. He's your challenge. Or rather, his shooting skill is your challenge. Ainsley scored a perfect 100 last month with the M-16. What's your best with the '16, Sergeant?"
"In AIT I scored a 92. One of the 50-yard targets wouldn't go down even when three of us shot it, so they didn't score it. Sir, a 100 isn't all that hard to accomplish on a five-target range with a '16 and some practice. What's the real challenge?"
He shook his head and held up his hand as he said, "Three targets, Sergeant, not five. Pop-ups at twenty-five, fifty, and seventy-five yards, controlled by the range boss. You'll fire a total of fifty rounds. Ainsley will use his M-16. You'll use your .45. All you have to do is match or beat Ainsley's score Saturday morning. I've already reserved time on the range."
"This is Wednesday. Would it be safe to say that Ainsley will get in some practice time before then?"
"It would probably be safe to say that."
"Will I get in some practice time before then, Colonel?"
"Not with this weapon. I can't let you carry it before you win the right to carry it. That's part of the challenge, Sergeant. I want everyone to see you pull this weapon cold and use it effectively under pressure before I let you haul it around in place of an issue-weapon."
Pausing to sip his coffee, he added, "You have to be so good with it that there's really no point in making you carry anything else. That's what's going to cover both of our asses and allow me to allow you to carry this thing while you're in my unit."
I nodded. "Well, then, Saturday it is, sir. Uhm, I'd hate to waste my hollowpoint ammo on the range. If you'll let me have eight of the magazines, I'll get a box of ACP loads from the MP's and swap out the ammo sometime before Saturday."
He gestured at my ammo pouches and said, "Sure," so I took one of them off my web belt and began thumbing rounds out of the magazines.
Bender raised his voice slightly and said, "Philpot!"
The company clerk opened the door and stuck his head in.
"Get him a bag or something for these loose rounds," said Bender.
Philpot said, "Yes, sir," and left, then reappeared a few minutes later with a chunk of fatigue pantsleg that he'd stapled shut at the bottom. Bender raised an eyebrow at it, but said nothing.
I took it with much the same kind of look and Philpot said, "It's the best I could come up with, Sergeant. We save old uniforms for cleaning rags."
Bender said, "Philpot, pass the word; anyone not on duty Saturday morning is welcome to come to the range with us."
Chapter Twenty-six
Just before lunchtime I used the phone by the outside water cooler to call Anna and let her know about Bender's challenge. She said she'd see what she could do about borrowing me for the afternoon if I was ready to let the world know that I could type.
With a wistful tone, she added, "Unless, of course, you'd rather not escort me to the MP range this afternoon and maybe tomorrow."
"Milady, I would escort you anywhere, any time, for any reason, even if it meant letting the entire world know I can type."
"Such a sacrifice. Okay. I'll call Bender after lunch."
"Have you heard anything negative from anyone about our being on the roof last night?"
"Nothing yet, but next time we'll use the deck area on the ops building roof. It has outside stairs, so we won't have to worry about a ladder."
When I got back from lunch and a quick visit with LT Hardesty, Philpot saw me enter the ops room, pointed at me, and then pointed at Bender's office. I knocked on the door.
"You wanted to see me, Colonel?"
Without preamble, he asked, "Sergeant, did you tell Major Corinth you could type?"
"Yes, sir, I did."
"Was it the truth?"
"Yes. I took it in high school, Colonel. I wasn't really the best in the class, but I managed a decent speed back then."
"Uh, huh. I don't think I've ever met a man who took a typing class in high school."
"That's where the girls were, Colonel. Well, there and Home Economics classes, but I've always hated kitchen work."
"Uh, huh," he said again as he peered at me. "Well, I'm lending you to her for the rest of the day, so get going."
I went. When I got to Anna's ward, she sat me down at Carter's desk and had me type up some short 1049's for supplies, then signed them and gave them to Carter.
"That's it," she said, "I borrowed you as a typist and you've been seen typing in my ward. Now we're going to see Captain Kellogg, draw a couple of .45's, and shoot some pop-ups."
A jeep picked us up and took us to the range and we spent the next hour shooting, then we went back to ward seven and she installed me in the supply room with an IBM Selectric and some more forms for various purposes.
At three-thirty I heard boots in the lobby and Sgt. Carter's chair slid back as she said, "Good afternoon, Colonel Bender. I'll tell Major Corinth you're here."
I was in the middle of typing up a Class Q pay allotment request for someone named Simmons when Bender filled the doorway. When I stopped typing and started to stand up, he waved me back down and told me not to stop what I was doing, then went next door to Anna's office.
Some fifteen minutes later he popped in again and said, "She says she could use you tomorrow, too. If we aren't too busy I'll send you up here."
Before I could acknowledge his statement, he turned and left. I finished the form I was typing and checked it for errors, then set it aside and started another one.
Most of the forms were done by four-thirty and Carter came to get them with a rather blatant look of surprise as she counted them.
"Well, damn, Carter," I said, "What did you think I was doing back here?"
She grinned and shrugged. "I thought... Well, no, I didn't, I guess. You used my desk while I was at lunch. Why didn't she put you at Krantz's desk? And why's she got you stuck back here now?"
"Because Krantz's desk can't be seen from the hallway, but yours can, and because Bender's already seen me working in here and won't expect to see me out front."
"Oh. Like when you go to the range again tomorrow, right?"
"Yup. Like that."
Grinning again, she said, "Cool."
Anna and Marian went to dinner that evening with some visiting officers from 12th Evac, a hospital at Cu Chi. I sat with a couple of the guys from my new unit who wanted to know more about Bender's deal.
"Simple," I said. "If I match or beat Ainsley's score, I keep my .45."
Vortmann asked, "Think you can do it?"
Nodding, I said, "Yeah. There aren't going to be any distance shots."
Richter had his doubts and said so with a snort of laughter, which made Vortmann ask if he was up for a small bet. By the end of dinner a guy named Berry had been chosen to hold all bets and maybe eight guys had placed a few bucks either for me or against me.
"You gonna bet?" Vortmann asked me.
"Hadn't planned to."
"Why not?" asked a grinning Richter. "Afraid you'll lose a few bucks?"
I sighed. "Would a five-buck bet shut you up, Richter?"
"That's all?" asked Richter. "Shee-it! Five lousy bucks is all?! Man, I already got twenty more'n that sayin' you won't beat him."
"Gee, thanks for letting me know. Okay, then, ten bucks."
"Huh. That ain't shit! If I was you, I..."
"Private Richter," I interrupted with a finger on his chest, "If you were me, you'd be thinking about asking the cook to find Private Richter something useful to do in the kitchen."
Richter stared at me for a moment, then left. Vortmann chuckled and went to talk to someone two tables away. I finished my green beans and took my tray to the bus bins, then left the mess hall with a glance at Anna and Marian as I passed their table.
Anna and Marian gave me slight, smiling nods as I passed and I returned the nods.
Another officer -- a 2nd Lieutenant -- noticed their nods, looked my way, and said, "Just a moment, Sergeant." He glanced around the table once with a slight grin, then said, "Come over here."
When I stopped, then approached the table, he said, "I thought I heard something about a bet just now."
Glancing around the table, I said nothing and waited.
"Well?" he asked.
"Your thoughts are none of my business, Lieutenant."
"I much prefer being called 'sir', Sergeant."
"Most brand-new lieutenants do," I said, "But regulations only require that I address you at least by your rank, Lieutenant."
Bridling, he stood up and said, "I just heard you offer a man a chance to work in the kitchen, Sergeant. Maybe I should offer you a chance to give me twenty pushups?"
I pretended to think a moment and glanced at Anna. She gave me one of those 'gee, mister, whatcha gonna do?' faces of innocence.
The irate lieutenant said, "Now it's thirty pushups, Sergeant. The longer you delay, the higher the number goes."
Nodding gravely, I said, "Well, then, I think I'll wait a little longer, Lieutenant. Could be that these ladies -- and everybody else here -- have never, ever before seen a newbie officer try to show off and will be truly impressed with you. Or it could be that my pushups will cost you any respect that these people may currently have for you. It could also be they've already lost it, but just to be absolutely sure that they'll all think you're a pompous dilettante from this day forward, I'll be happy to do pushups for you. Lieutenant."
Turning to the senior officer present -- Anna -- I said, "My apologies for the delay, Major, and please note that I have not refused to obey a lawful order. I'm just waiting for the Lieutenant to decide the final number."
She grinned as she said, "Oh, so noted, Sergeant, and thank you for so thoroughly explaining your willingness to cooperate with him."
"You're very welcome, Major. This sort of thing is how a few of the new ones have to learn not to risk the respect of their peers and subordinates by acting like fraternity brats." In a somewhat more confidential tone, I added, "Helping newbies learn is part of every NCO's job, ma'am."
Anna snickered. "Oh, I completely understand, Sergeant. Please continue your demonstration as you see fit."
Marian couldn't hold her giggle any longer. It escaped, then turned into a soft, full-fledged laugh, which earned her a sharp glance from the LT. One of the men -- a captain -- chuckled and shook his head slightly.
I turned to the LT and asked, "May I make a suggestion, Lieutenant?"
His glare narrowed tightly, but he didn't respond quickly enough.
Turning to Anna, I asked, "May I volunteer a suggestion to the Lieutenant, ma'am?"
She grinningly said, "As I said earlier; as you see fit, Sergeant."
"Thank you, Major."
Turning to the LT, I said, "Most people can find some respect for a man who is able to understand and adapt when it may be necessary to adjust his goals and his perspectives. We're about the same age, so I can definitely understand wanting to impress a couple of beautiful women, even if they do rather considerably outrank you."
When the LT made no reply and simply continued his glare at me, I softly added, "Lieutenant, your best immediate course of action may be to dismiss me and hope memories of this incident fade before they become well-entrenched anecdotes both here and at 12th Evac."
That startled the LT into asking, "What makes you think we're from 12th Evac?"
"Your missing shoulder patch tells me you haven't been issued anything yet. Your earlier complaints about the smell from a fuel dump and the noise from artillery day and night seem to put you in Cu Chi. Your collar brass puts you in a desk job and your rather autocratic attitude suggests that you're in either records or accounting. That you're visiting with a Major and a Captain from ward seven and a Captain from ward three tells me that you're here on business, not to visit a sick friend, so chances seem pretty good that you're a new records officer from 12th Evac who's being introduced around."
"Well, damn," muttered the captain near him with a small grin. "He's got you pegged, hasn't he, Lieutenant? Now, if you'll just let him go and sit back down here, we can finish this meeting and get underway before dark."
Through clenched teeth, the LT said, "Dismissed."
I nodded to the table as a whole, then left the mess hall. Vortmann also left, then ran to catch up with me.
"Man, you got some brass balls!" he said.
"Did you hear what I told the LT about losing respect?"
"Yeah. That was a stroke of fucking genius, Sarge."
"Nope. That was a statement of fact, Vortmann. Some of those officers have probably already written the LT off as a potential embarrassment. I had a reason for reminding Richter of my stripes, but the LT was just posturing for the crowd."
"Do what? Oh. Showing off, you mean."
"Yup. You planning on coming back to the ops office with me?"
Thinking that I meant that work would be found for him, he stopped walking and said, "Uh... No, I have to see Kenner about something. See you later."
Stopping by my locker for my current paperback, I headed for the ops deck by way of the unit's Coke machine, which was located in the office at the foot of the stairs that led up to a rooftop room which had big windows facing all directions.
A corporal named Beeker stepped out of the latrine and headed back to the reception desk as I ratcheted the handle on the Coke machine.
"You're the new guy, right?" he asked.
Noting the CQ armband he wore, I said, "Yup."
He nodded. "I put ten on you. Don't let me down."
"You don't know me at all, Beeker. Why'd you bet?"
Beeker grinned and said, "I don't have to know you. I know Bender. If he didn't want you to wear that .45, he'd just lock it in the safe."
Sitting down behind the desk, he said, "And, in case you didn't know it, the word's going out that there's going to be a shootout at the range on Saturday. Bender wants the bleachers full."
No, that didn't surprise me. The match would be for as big a general audience as Bender could muster.
I parked my rump on the corner of his desk and asked, "Got any idea why he wants me to wear my .45, Beeker?"
"Damned if I know, Sarge, but Bender wouldn't be setting up something like this if there was any chance he'd come away from it looking bad. Both shooters are from his units, so it doesn't matter which one wins. Win or lose, the guys'll think he's Colonel Wonderful for giving you a shot at it."
"Uh, huh," I said. "And having every off-duty officer in 3rd Surge at the show won't hurt his local standing any, either."
With a bigger grin, he said, "Oh, it's a little bigger than that, Sarge. When I make the mail run to brigade tomorrow, I'm supposed to find a way to let the news slip out."
"Slip out? He isn't just telling everybody to come to the range Saturday?"
"Nope. To quote Bender, 'It's supposed to look like a private challenge that's being settled as entertainment. I want anyone who's interested to call me for an invitation'." With a laugh, Beeker added, "You're being used, Sarge. Big-time used."
Sighing and shrugging, I said, "Oh, well. As long as I get my .45 back," then unassed his desk and headed upstairs.
Most of the enlisted guys avoided the ops deck because being there made you available when there was something to be done downstairs or on the pads outside.
I wasn't too worried about that possibility. If a bird with wounded came in, I'd see if I could help. If someone was looking for a body for any other kind of work detail, I'd just ghost and wait for him to leave.
There were folding chairs around a dinette-style table and more folding chairs stacked against the west wall. I placed two chairs by the north window and sat down, then put my feet up in the second chair and opened my book in air conditioned comfort.
Around seven I felt a presence and looked around as an aura flashed over the edge of the roof beyond the windows and headed for the door. As I unfolded an extra chair, I noted that she carried no cooler.
Once she was inside, she sat down and unghosted to become Anna, and I could see that her mood was somewhat sour.
"Marian will be along in a bit," she said, "Things got busy just before she could go off duty. Two drug OD's came in."
Nodding, I said, "Get comfy. I'll run downstairs and get you a Coke."
Beeker wasn't at his desk when I rounded the bottom of the stairs. I got myself another Coke, as well, then leaned my empty against the door at the bottom of the stairwell. Anyone opening the door would make the bottle fall and give us a few moments of warning.
As I presented her with her Coke, Anna pulled me down a bit by my arm, leaned to kiss my cheek, then said, "Thanks. Sorry about my mood."
"No problem. How come we aren't hunting drug pushers, Anna?"
Glancing at me, she said, "I've considered it. Marian and I have talked about it, but she has reservations about hunting Americans. Something happened back in Denver."
"She told me. One of the druggies had a badge."
With a nod, she said, "She's afraid we'd make a mistake. I haven't... pushed... the idea. Besides, it could take quite a while to find out exactly who should be hunted."
Another presence began to be noticeable as it approached and we looked toward ward seven to see Marian's aura rocket across the concrete below. The edge of the roof blocked our view of her for a moment, then she shot skyward well above the roof and began a wide loop.
"I guess she's in a mood this evening, too," I said, watching Marian arc high and begin the downside of her loop.
"Seems so," said Anna.
Marian finished her loop within only feet of the ground and then came straight at us, slowing as she approached. I rose to get the door for her and she gave me a quick kiss as she entered the room, then reached for one of the folding chairs by the window.
"Take mine," I said. "I'll get another."
"Already got one," she said, "Thanks anyway."
Marian opened the chair next to mine, then didn't sit down. Instead, she walked to the stairwell, unghosted, and returned to stand behind her chair, drumming her nails on it. She looked pretty tense.
"Want a Coke?" I asked. "It'll only take me a minute."
Shaking her head, Marian said, "No, thanks."
Anna looked up at me, then at Marian, and said, "We could get underway now, if you'd like."
Marian only nodded tersely. Anna stood up and I stashed my book on the sill above the west window, then we all stepped into the stairwell to ghost just as the bottle-alarm fell over.
Chapter Twenty-seven
We all scampered back to our chairs as Corporal Beeker came up the stairs with a look of puzzlement on his face. When he saw us, he froze and his look of puzzlement became deep, indeed.
"Hi, Beeker," I said, indicating Anna. "This is Major Corinth and that's Captain Hartley."
"Uh... Hello, uh, ma'am's."
Anna nodded and Marian said, "Hello. We didn't see anyone at the desk when we came in." Fishing a nickel out of her jeans pocket, she asked, "Ed, would you be so kind as to bring me up a Coke?"
Rather dramatically, I bowed slightly as I took the nickel and said, "Your wishes are my commands, milady," then tapped Beeker's arm and said, "Come on, Beeker."
He followed me down the stairs, and as I fed the Coke machine, he asked, "What are they doing on the observation deck, Sarge?"
"Observing, of course. That's what it's for."
"You know what I mean."
With a sigh, I said, "Where do you go to get away from everything for a while, Beeker? Where is there to go, really? The best you can hope for is a place where people won't find you and bug you, and there aren't all that many of those places. Captain Hartley's in the ER, and they had two bad drug overdoses come in just before she was due to go off duty. Those seem to get to her worse than anything else, you know? She just wanted some private time with her friends."
Nodding knowingly, Beeker said, "Oh. Yeah, okay. Hey, there's no rule against them being up there, Sarge. I was just wondering, that's all."
As I turned to go, he said, "You said 'friends', Sarge. Does that mean you're one of her friends, too?"
Turning tightly to look at him, I said, "Yeah, I guess it does, Beeker. Will that be any kind of a problem?"
Shaking his head slightly, he quickly said, "No. No. Like I said; just wondering."
Sighing, I said, "Sorry, I didn't mean to snap. It's just that everybody who finds out that I hang out with them seems to want to think there's something more going on. That really gets old fast, y'know?"
He nodded and I headed up the stairs. Marian and Anna were standing near the top of the stairwell. Marian took her Coke and gave me a long, firm kiss, then wordlessly went to her chair. Anna grinned, kissed me, and went to her chair. I closed the stairwell door, walked over, and sat down with them.
Marian whispered, "You sounded so sincere!"
"I was. That 'men and women can't just be friends' attitude bugs me. My sister had problems with it in college. One of her teachers was a friend of mine. We'd all go out sometimes. Nothing more, but all anyone seemed able to see was a freshman being overly friendly with a teacher."
Anna said, "They were probably wondering why she was out with her brother and her teacher instead of with her boyfriend."
"Her boyfriend worked at a pizza place in Arlington. We were safe dates when he worked on weekends or nights."
"Uh, huh..." Anna said skeptically. At my glance, she snickered and said, "Just kidding. I've had some of that along the line, too."
Marian sipped her Coke and said, "Anna told me about Saturday. What do you think? Can you win it?"
"Probably, if Bender doesn't throw in any hundred-yard shots. He's going to quietly advertise the event at brigade, so there's apparently more to it than whether I'll carry a .45."
"Oh, a lot more, I'd think," said Anna. "He's got about three months to do something dramatic enough to be memorable before he goes Stateside. When he's up for general next year..."
"Next year?" asked Marian, "Isn't that kind of soon?"
Shaking her head, Anna said, "No, not really. He'll be moving into a Pentagon office, as I understand it. Some kind of advisory position. By then there should be half a dozen slots open, and he'll want his name to stand out a bit."
We watched a few sticks of helicopters land across the airstrip, which meant that there were no wounded. A jeep crossed the strip and Bender got out of it, then we heard the ops door open and close below.
"Damn," muttered Anna. "If Beeker says anything, Bender will probably come up here."
"I wonder what he was doing over there," said Marian.
"Swapping parts, probably," I said, "They use mostly 1-B's. We use 1-D's, but a lot of the equipment and parts are interchangeable."
After a few minutes of talking and no Bender coming up the stairs, Anna suggested that we go downstairs, split up to ghost, and meet outside on the roof. We folded our chairs, I grabbed my book and the Coke bottles, and we started for the stairwell.
Anna chuckled and asked, "You're sure you don't mind being seen in the company of officers?"
Looking them up and down once, I said, "Oh, I think I'll survive," and opened the upper door just as Bender opened the door at the bottom of the stairwell. Marian started down, then Anna, and I pulled the door shut and followed them.
"Hello, Colonel Bender," said Anna. "I hope you don't mind that he showed us the observation deck."
"No," said Bender. "Not at all."
"Good," she said. "We'd like to come up here now and then. It beats sitting in our rooms for peace and quiet."
"It sure does," said Marian. "You're sure you don't mind?"
"No," said Bender, holding the door for them. "No problem. Come by anytime we aren't too busy."
"Thank you," said Marian. "We appreciate the courtesy, sir." Turning to me, she said, "Thanks again. I'm off Saturday, so I'll be there." To Anna, she said, "I always wanted to be a cheerleader, you know. Never had the time for it."
Anna laughed and said, "Well, here's your chance."
With that, the ladies headed for the hallway as I emptied the Coke bottles into the water fountain drain, then racked them. When I turned around, Bender was still standing by the door.
"Beeker told me about the overdoses," he said, "And I have no problem with those ladies visiting our deck. But where you're concerned, I'd advise much caution, Sergeant. Extreme caution. Do you understand me?"
Meeting his gaze, I said, "Yes, sir."
Bender kept his gaze on me for another moment, then went to his office and closed the door. Beeker mimed wiping sweat from his brow and grinned at me as I walked past his desk. I gave him a sidelong glance and a wry look.
After retrieving my collapsable cup, I waited until the short hallway that linked the medevac barracks to the ops offices was clear, then I ghosted and lifted to head for the doors at the end of the wing, pushing through them to float to the roof.
Both women were in ghost mode, their auras glowing ever brighter against the darkening sky. They lifted as I joined them and the night's hunt finally began.
Within an hour we found half a dozen VC laden with supplies. They were following the Song Be river southward toward Bien Hoa. Marian quickly descended on them without a word to us, which left us following her down as she swooped to lance the first guy in line with her dagger.
He stopped cold, looked down at his chest, then began to fall to his knees in shock. In the meantime she looped back to stab the rearmost VC in the same manner, completely unnoticed by the other four VC, who put down their bundles and moved to check out the first guy.
One of them noticed that their tail-end Charlie had also fallen and he grabbed his rifle, then dove for cover. I knelt on his back and used my bayonet on him before he could call out or fire his weapon.
Anna impaled one of the others as he stood up in confusion, then she shoved the guy at one of the other two VC who were kneeling by the first guy. When the one unknowingly facing her drew his pistol, I threw my bayonet.
It sank into him to the hilt just below his sternum and Anna reached to take the pistol out of his hand as she yanked my bayonet out of his chest.
That left only one, who was hissingly shrieking as he tried to shove away the body that Anna had thrown on him. Anna stepped up and knocked him cold with the Makarov pistol, then plunged my bayonet into his heart and left it there as she hauled him into a nearby tree and draped him over a high branch.
I grabbed one of the AK's and joined the ladies there. Marian waited until we had our cups out to uncork the VC and hand me my bayonet. We filled our cups and sipped in silence for some moments before Marian swore mightily and slapped the branch we sat on.
"Marian..." Anna started to say, but Marian cut her off with a tersely muttered, "I don't want to talk right now."
Nodding at the AK, Marian asked, "What are you going to do with that?"
"I'm going to use it on the other half of the group we just busted."
Pausing in mid-sip, Anna asked, "Other half?"
"Yeah. Other half. Maybe ten minutes behind these guys. That's why I didn't want the guy I nailed to yell or shoot. That's why I pinned that guy in front of you before he could fire that pistol. I didn't know if you'd bother to keep him quiet."
"Are you sure there's a second group?"
"No, but chances are about fifty-fifty. It's a common practice to separate supply groups."
Anna completed her sipping and glanced at Marian before asking, "Well, then, shouldn't we perhaps get down there and move the bodies and stuff out of sight?"
Nodding, I said, "Yup, just as soon as we've had a cup. And if you happen to spot any grenades on them, save them. The second group is sometimes a little larger than the first one."
Anna rolled the VC over and refilled her cup, then poured some of it in each of ours. After draining her cup, she snapped it shut and stood up. Grabbing the VC by one ankle, she lifted from the branch, hovered over the riverbank and dropped him, then returned to the tree.
Marian made a small, sighing sound. When we looked at her with curious expressions, she drew her knees up with her arms around them and shook her head slightly.
"I still don't want to talk right now."
Anna put a hand on her arm and softly said, "Okay. Later."
"Maybe," said Marian. "I don't know."
"I could head back alone," I said. "After we see if there's another bunch on the trail, that is. If you two need some time without me, I..."
"Don't worry about it," said Marian, rather sardonically. "It'll pass. It always does, according to Anna."
I said nothing more and launched off the branch to begin cleaning up the area below. Anna followed. Tossing rifles and bundles well into the river, we checked the VC for grenades and found only two. After I set them and one rifle aside with a couple of ammo pouches, we then quietly set the bodies in the river and shoved them away from the bank.
Back at the tree, we parked on the branch near Marian and waited.
"This doesn't bother you two at all, does it?" asked Marian.
Anna looked at her for a moment, then looked at me, then leaned back against the trunk of the tree and sighed before saying, "Marian, damn it, if you'd rather not hunt anymore, just say so."
"It isn't that simple, Anna. Ed, why do you hunt? I mean, really? Anna says her virus doesn't like the bagged stuff, but I think that's just an excuse. I think it's Anna who doesn't like the bagged stuff."
Chuckling, I said, "Could be, I guess. Marian, even if my virus hadn't been singing at me tonight and promising to scream at me a little later, I'd probably still be out here."
Marian said nothing for a moment, then softly asked, "Because they're the current enemy, or because you like hunting?"
After deciding that it probably wouldn't matter how I answered such a question, I opted for the truth. "Some of each, I guess."
"What about when you get back to the States and there aren't any VC?"
"When I get back to the States, I'll have to find another enemy of some sort. There's no shortage of career criminals, for instance. Maybe I'll just hunt around the worst parts of some town until there are no worst parts of that town left, then move on to some other town. I'll get by."
"Cleaning up one Dodge City after another, huh? Will that become your calling in life, Ed? Or just a convenient excuse to hunt?"
Shrugging, I said, "Some people would see it either way. To me it might become both. Marian, what's really bugging you?"
She goggled at me and asked, "You really have to ask, Ed?"
"Guess so, since I'm asking."
After a moment, she swept her hand to encompass the area below and said, "I just killed two men with a dagger, and they're just the latest ones. I was raised to believe that killing was wrong, Ed. Weren't you?"
"Within certain guidelines, yes. I believe that killing for no good reason is wrong, but these guys live to kill Americans."
In a rather flat tone, she repeated, "Guidelines."
I looked beyond our killing ground below as I said, "Yes, ma'am. Guidelines. Live and let live. Do unto others, etc..."
Marian stated, "They don't call the Ten Commandments the Ten Guidelines, Ed."
With a soft snort, I said, "They should. Everybody ignores them wheneverthehell it suits them. And speaking of everybody, have a look at the auras up the trail."
A moment later, Anna said, "Nine of them."
"So far," I said. "Marian."
She looked at me and tersely asked, "What?"
"If you've had enough tonight we can handle them without you. Just stay up here and cover your eyes, okay?"
Marian's eyes widened, her mouth dropped open, and her hand came up fast, but Anna grabbed her arm and said softly, "It would make too much noise, Marian. Slap him later."
I took Marian's hand as it hung before me, kissed it, and pulled my face away before she could yank her hand free.
"Sorry, milady."
"The hell you are," she hissed. "You just wanted to piss me off and stir up my virus."
Giving her a questioning look, I asked, "Did it work?"
As an answer, Marian shoved me out of the tree. I ghosted on the way down and headed toward the VC as I reached for one of the grenades and worked the pin most of the way out. Glancing back at the ladies, I saw that both had ghosted, but were still sitting in the other tree.
Controlling the handle's release to keep it quiet, I set the grenade on the ground as I passed in front of the third VC in the column, ducked behind a fat tree some ten feet away, and covered my ears.
When I looked around the tree after the explosion there were four VC down and one slowly toppling. Pulling the pin on the other grenade, I held the handle and waited as the others came to believe that someone had set off a boobytrap.
As they realized that nobody was shooting at them, one, then another, then all of them gradually got to their feet. Once they were all upright and one had begun cautiously approaching the dead VC, I flew to set the other grenade on the ground among them and again ducked behind a tree.
This time all of them went down and only two were moving at all. Four of them still had active auras; moving near them, I quickly put a round from the AK into each of their heads to end their suffering.
As the ladies landed near me I stacked one of the VC on one of the others and snapped open my cup as I said, "If we're not going to look for more VC tonight, this is last call."
Anna silently opened her cup and held it to be filled. When Marian didn't open hers, I filled my own and sipped. After a few moments Marian opened her cup and I held the VC so she could fill it.
When I began checking the bodies, Marian asked, "What? You're going to rob them, too?"
"Looking for info," I said. "Documents. Like that."
"You didn't check the first ones."
"I looked when I strapped their stuff to them."
I continued looking, but found nothing else in pockets. Using the AK, I snagged up a leather and canvas satchel by the strap and set it to one side.
When Anna reached for the satchel, I said, "No. No prints on it or on the stuff inside it. I'll drop it where it can be found. There'll be questions about where it came from, guaranteed."
"Drop it where?" she asked.
As I began moving the weapon and bundles to the river, I said, "Bien Hoa airbase isn't far downriver."
Anna pitched in to help and we soon had the area cleared of all but the bodies, which we began dragging to the riverbank.
Marian asked, "Why are you putting them in the river?"
"So they'll disappear for a while. When they don't show up somewhere, other VC will look for them. By then the satchel will be at Bien Hoa."
When the last VC had drifted away from the bank and into the river's current, I again snagged the satchel strap and we lifted to follow the river to Bien Hoa.
Some minutes later we saw a pair of jeeps cruising around the airstrip below us. I hovered above the rear jeep and dropped the satchel into the back seat. The driver glanced back, stood on the brakes, slid to a stop, and he and his passenger almost dove out of the jeep.
The other jeep also stopped and there was a certain amount of yelling as people discussed what had happened and what to do. When the jeep didn't blow up right away, they rather warily began to approach it.
"That's it," said Marian. "We can go now."
"Wait one," I said. "It's not over yet."
One of the guys cautiously reached into the jeep and lifted the satchel clear of it, then slung it hard at the trees and dropped flat. I retrieved the satchel and slung it back at the road as I ducked behind a tree.
"You're supposed to look in the goddamned bag!" I shouted.
Weapons aimed at my tree. One of the guys shouted, "Who the fuck are you?!"
"Just look in the bag. We took it off a VC. Bye."
"Wait! Who are you? Who's 'we'?"
Leaving them to discover whatever the bag's contents might reveal, we headed back toward 3rd Surge.
Chapter Twenty-eight
Marian's mood hadn't improved much, if at all. When Anna found a spot she liked and pointed it out to us, Marian told us that she'd see us later and flew on toward the hospital. Anna softly swore, then descended to the stream below. Once there, she vented some of her anger by throwing a few baseball-sized rocks into the surrounding vegetation.
One of the rocks bounced off a tree and came almost directly back at her, which seemed to piss her off even more. Anna caught it and heaved it again even harder. The rock glanced off a tree trunk and into the night and Anna stood panting and glaring after it.
Landing a few feet from her, I said nothing for a few moments. When she turned to face me, I said, "That was probably major league pitching, ma'am."
Her gaze narrowed and she asked, "Do you want hurt?"
Shrugging, I said, "Well, no, not particularly."
"Then shut up. Please." She threw one more stone in a halfhearted manner, then said, "Sorry. I just don't know what to do about Marian."
"Do about her? Why do anything? You said some vampires don't hunt, Anna. Maybe Marian's discovering that she should be one of them."
Anna looked as if she might say something else, then she began unbuttoning her blouse and said, "I'm changing the subject as of now."
We soaked in the stream for a bit, then played for a while. Anna's anger remained evident until her concern with her own pleasures began to take full precedence over pretty much everything else.
Back in the stream afterward, Anna lay quietly for some time before she said, "Marian wants to complete her tour at 12th Evac. That's one of the reasons those guys were here today."
When I said nothing, she turned her head to look at me and asked, "You don't have anything to say about that?"
With a sigh, I said, "12th Evac isn't too far away, Anna. What's she giving them as a reason for the transfer?"
"Cross-training. And they're short three people, so..." Anna's voice broke for a moment, then she said, "Ed, I don't want her to go."
"You told her that?"
"Of course I have."
"Then you've probably done all you can short of not signing her transfer, and if you refuse to sign, that probably won't help matters. We're the only other vampires in the neighborhood and we've been her friends for a while, so we'll probably be seeing her now and then. Like I said, 12th Evac isn't too far away."
Sighing, Anna said nothing more for a while, then, "I got us some more range time tomorrow afternoon."
"Thanks. Does Bender know we went out there today?"
"Very likely. I've seen him at the O-club with Major Stewart."
"Well, if he doesn't try to shut us down, we'll at least know he's not against the idea of me winning. Or maybe only that he couldn't shut us down conveniently, I guess."
Sitting up, Anna said, "Bender will win either way, but he's probably hoping you'll win the match. Every time anyone sees you with that .45, the story around it will be told again. He'll probably even have people there from the 'Stars and Stripes' or 'The Army Times'."
"Well, that's just great. Wonderful. No pressure at all."
With a chuckle, Anna stood up and used her jeans to pat herself dry, then put them on. I got up and got dressed, too, then we headed to the hospital. Before we got too close, I hung the AK and the ammo pouches high in a tree and took a look around to lock in the location.
Anna said, "I was wondering what you were going to do with that rifle."
"Won't have my .45 'till Saturday, so I thought I'd hang onto it."
"Woo. Such confidence. What if Ainsley wins by some odd chance?"
"Then I'll make do with whatever I find. It's only about ten, milady. Want to sneak me into your room for a while?"
She laughed. "Nope. My day will begin earlier than yours. Visiting brass again. A new general at brigade is making the rounds."
We separated with a kiss above the ops ob-deck and I slipped into the building, then unghosted in the empty mess hall and headed for the barracks with a cup of coffee.
As I entered the barracks, the corporal on CQ duty looked up from his book, read my nametag, and asked, "Where the hell have you been?"
Walking past the desk, I waved at the windows and said, "Wandering around the countryside."
In the glass of a window I watched him watch me for a moment, then he turned back to his book. After a shower and cleanup, I hit the sack and thought about how things would be without Marian until sleep found me.
We had only three medevac flights Thursday morning, all to units that had found booby traps the hard way. After lunch I was sent to Anna for typing duty and discovered that Marian had gone to see some people at 12th Evac during the morning.
Not in the best of moods, we went to the range for an hour of practice and returned to ward seven. Later that afternoon Anna came out of her office to tell me that she and Marian would be having a late dinner meeting with the general and some others from brigade.
With a somewhat dejected air, she said, "I expect I'll have to at least verbally approve Marian's transfer sometime during the meeting."
"Are you getting a replacement right away?"
"Next week, probably. Someone who would have gone to 12th Evac will come here, instead."
"Well, just hope they send you someone competent, I guess."
When I took the forms I'd finished to the supply wing as my last official act of the day, I ran into Colonel Bender on the way back. He stopped me and asked why I hadn't checked in with the Chaplain.
"He was on your list when you signed into the unit."
"I thought religion was an elective matter, Colonel."
"It is, but checking in with the Chaplain isn't. He has to know what to do about you if you get tagged. Take care of it on your way back. Oh, by the way, Beeker told me Captain Drake stopped by this morning to see you while you were out on those runs. It was apparently just a social call."
With that, he continued on his way. The Chaplain's office was only a few doors down from Anna's. When I walked in, the sergeant at the front desk asked if he could help me, and I told him that I'd been ordered to check in. He handed me a printed info card and told me to fill it out.
Name, rank, serial number, home of record, who to contact, etc..., and one of the last things on the form was a block in which I was to scribble what religion I favored. I left the area blank and handed in the card.
"You can't leave it blank," said the clerk.
"I don't have a religion."
Handing the card back, he said, "Then put 'no preference' in the block. The Chaplain will want to talk to you, so have a seat."
As he rose to go to the door behind his desk, I said, "I'm kind of in a hurry to get back to the ward."
He knocked and said, "It won't take long," then entered the office and closed the door. I put 'none' in the block. A couple of minutes later he opened it again, a Major came out, then the clerk came out. I stood up and saw that the Major's nametag read 'Rupert'.
Grinningly extending his right hand for a shake, he took my info card with his left as he asked in a heavy Southern accent, "What's this 'no preference' stuff about, Sergeant?"
"That's what someone put on my dogtags, Major. When they asked what religion I was, I said I didn't have one."
His gaze narrowed and he mocked a face of surprised distress as he asked, "Sergeant, are you trying to say that you don't believe in God?"
"What I believe is strictly my business, not the Army's, Major. May I go back to work, now?"
Rupert seemed to consider matters for a moment, then said, "Sure, go ahead. I'll schedule you for an interview later in the week."
"I'd rather you didn't, Major."
In an insistent, almost commanding tone, he said, "I noticed your reluctance, Sergeant, but a Chaplain's interview is very customary."
Meeting his gaze, I said, "Major Rupert, I don't have a religion and I don't want one. I was only ordered to come take care of the info card. The card is done."
He looked at the card and tapped the corner of it, then handed it back to me as he said, "No, Sergeant, it isn't done. Fix that block to match your dogtags and initial the change."
Turning to put the card on the desk, I drew a single fine line through the word 'none' and wrote 'no preference' below it, then initialed the block and handed the card to the clerk. He looked past me at the major, then put the card in his 'in' basket.
Major Rupert had stepped over to his office door and opened it. For a moment I thought he intended to have the interview on the spot, but he simply looked at me for a moment, then said, "My door is always open, Sergeant," just before he turned to enter his office and closed the door. I wondered if either he or his clerk caught the irony of that, but didn't hang around to ask.
To avoid the rush to chow and probable blather about Saturday's contest, I waited until fifteen minutes before the mess hall stopped serving to go to dinner, then took some chocolate cake on a plate up to LT Hardesty. Again the nurse on duty halved the portion, and since I didn't want any, she appropriated the remainder.
"I can postpone his bath for half an hour," she said, "Not a minute longer. We're a little behind in things tonight."
Hardesty told me that Drake had been lightly wounded that morning and had dropped by when they'd brought him in to dig a piece of ball-bearing shrapnel out of his leg. He also said that Drake had planned to drop by medevac after visiting the PX on the way.
"So I heard," I said. "I was out when he came by."
"No problem. Drake said that he and a few of the NCO's will be here Saturday if they can hitch a ride."
"I'll see if Bender can fix it. He's trying to make some kind of a legend out of this thing, so he may even send a bird for them."
Hardesty also said that Brandon had been transferred by the Army's 'Fairy Godmother Department' to some outfit in I-Corps, near the DMZ.
"Bam," said Hardesty, snapping his fingers. "Gone just like that. Drake said he didn't have anything to do with it, and he isn't much of an actor. I think he really didn't."
We marveled at the Fairy Godmother Department's mysterious ways and discussed Hardesty's progress until the nurse came by to toss me out.
When I met Anna and Marian on the roof a little later, I told them that Hardesty had attributed Brandon's transfer to the 'Fairy Godmother Department' and Anna laughed as she pulled out some pocket lint and mimed sprinkling it around.
Pointing at the sliver of moon climbing into the sky, she said, "We'll have to make do with moondust. I seem to be all out of fairy dust at the moment," then, in a more somber tone, "And speaking of transfers, Marian won't be coming with us tonight. She's going to 12th Evac tomorrow and has to pack and do some things in the ER."
Two guys came out of the stairwell into the observation room. With repeated glances at us, they set up a chess board on the table.
I looked at Marian and whispered, "But you have to come with us, even if you don't stay out. I can't kiss you goodbye with an audience."
"Don't worry about it," she said. "We're all going to kill the last of the spiced rum when you get back tonight." Turning to Anna, she added, "But don't stay out way late, okay? I don't want to be dragging ass tomorrow."
Anna nodded and headed for the glass doors of the observation room. I took another glance at Marian as we followed Anna. She smiled, but it seemed to me that she was on the verge of tears.
Poor Beeker did a startled double-take when I opened the stairwell door; we'd ghosted to the roof and unghosted by the then empty observation deck's doors.
"Hi, Beeker," I said as he red-facedly and frantically jammed a Playboy magazine into the top desk drawer.
He nodded and said, "Uh... Yeah. Hi. Uh... and good evening, ma'am's," as he stared at us. "I didn't know you all were up there."
Laughing softly and pulling Marian and me along, Anna said, "He's been teaching us how to sneak through the jungle, Corporal."
Beeker's reactions seemed to offset matters somewhat; some distance up the hall Marian giggled a few times, then laughed, as did Anna.
"He had a Playboy," said Marian between snickers. "He couldn't hide it fast enough when he saw us on the stairs."
"We all have secret little pleasures," said Anna. "Ed, I'll meet you at your tree in a few minutes."
"Ah. My cue. Right. Well, then, I'll get moving, milady."
Behind a fire door I ghosted, then lifted and headed for the ops office. A guy pushing one of the supply carts opened the outside door and I flew out as he pulled the cart through the doorway.
Snagging a used motor oil can and a bit of rag, I let the corner of the rag sop up the oil residue in the can, then set the can back in the trash bin and headed for the tree in which I'd stashed the AK the night before.
Dropping the magazine and opening the breech to eject the unfired round, I squeezed oil into various areas and wiped other areas until the AK's action was as slick as I could make it. After I gave the magazine a wipe, put the loose round in it, and put it back in the rifle, I chambered the first round.
Although I'd half-expected Marian to relent and join us for one last hunt, Anna arrived alone as darkness began to enshroud our chunk of the world.
"It's been a relatively quiet day," said Anna. "I don't know that any direction will be better than any other tonight."
"An Loc and Tay Ninh were both fairly busy yesterday. Bet there are still a few VC around either of those areas."
"Which is closer?"
"Tay Ninh."
"Tay Ninh it is, then."
As we crested a ridgeline that seemed just short of being a real mountain, the sounds of battle echoing up from below became audible and tracer rounds drew brief lines across the floor of the valley.
"This'll do," said Anna.
"Look it over first. Both sides have machine guns, but some of them seem to be moving; our side may be stuck in fixed positions, like at a firebase, and I know we have at least one somewhere around Tay Ninh. Take out a few of the individual VC or small groups of them and look for grenades. You don't want to be near a machine gun when the other side opens up on it."
"Then I'll stick with individuals and small groups and you take the machine guns."
"Yes'm. Good plan. Stay clear of them; they'll probably blow up soon."
Chapter Twenty-nine
We circled behind the VC and split up; Anna went to the left and I went to the right. I slung the AK and used my bayonet on the first half dozen or so, pausing to check them for grenades before moving on.
Maybe nine VC had no grenades, then I found one who had four of them tied to his belt. He was with two other VC, so I joined the group briefly to put a round in each of his companions, then in him.
One of the guys had an AK bayonet in a scabbard. I put the bayonet on my AK and moved ahead among the VC, surprising several of them with the bayonet before I heard something a bit to the left and behind me and turned to find myself staring into the barrel of another AK.
Leaving the bayonet in its latest victim, I let go of the AK and dropped flat. The guy behind me fired on full automatic, hitting both my AK and the VC. Parts and pieces of each went flying as I launched at the shooter.
He stood staring at his handiwork as I tackled him down, then grabbed his head and twisted hard, snapping his neck. Using a magazine from his ammo pouch, I reloaded his AK and checked to see if he had a bayonet to go with it. Nope.
I retrieved the blade from my old AK and counted the lumps in my shirt. Three. One of the grenades had fallen out. A little groping around didn't turn up the missing one, so I said to hell with it and moved on.
There was motion ahead and I froze to watch and listen. Three auras quickly moved from one hole to another some distance away and set up a machine gun. They fired for a bit, then scurried back to the first hole.
When the M-60 up the hill opened up, I was glad to be lying flat behind the mound of dirt the VC had made while digging their hole. The air above and around me filled with 7.62 rounds and tracers.
Removing the pin from a grenade, I looked around to see where the VC had moved the machine gun and found them only twenty feet or so away, so I let the handle fly as they returned fire, counted to three, and tossed the grenade into their hole.
One guy there was apparently running on adrenaline; he instantly looked for the grenade and side-tossed it out of the hole, a move that probably would have worked if I hadn't cooked it first. It was in the air as I ducked low and it exploded half a second after he'd tossed it.
Two of them were still moving. I put a round in each and rolled away from my mound of dirt with one hand on the remaining two grenades inside my shirt.
Another of the VC machine guns was perhaps sixty feet away. It's hard to tell distances well at night, but it isn't hard at all to follow bright tracer rounds back to their source. They ceased fire and moved the gun somewhat farther away as I approached.
When they moved back to the first hole, I was close enough to again cook a grenade and toss it into their hole. This time I counted to four, although rather quickly. They were still looking for the grenade when it went off. All of the auras began fading quickly.
Hearing noises behind me, I turned and moved aside in time to avoid being trampled by two VC who rushed toward the machine gun nest. As they checked the gun and set it back up, I shot each of them once.
The gun I'd shut down at the first hole opened up again, apparently undamaged and re-crewed. I put a three-round burst into the VC there and quickly moved away from my cover.
A survivor at the first hole shot back and I put another three rounds into his muzzle flash, then lifted a good hundred feet. Two more rifles fired at the place where I'd been, but no more auras moved up to the machine gun nest.
I dropped to the first gun emplacement and checked it; the gun had been hit and would no longer fire. At the second hole the gun looked useable, so I stood back a few feet and fired a short burst at its breech, then lifted quickly again. More rifle fire searched for me below my boots.
The third gun emplacement was a hundred feet or so farther north. I had one grenade left and I needed a place of reasonable cover to use it, but those guys had apparently slung the dirt instead of piling it when they'd dug their holes. On the other hand, their holes were fairly deep.
That left the options of bayoneting them or counting again with a grenade. Sure, grenades are supposed to have eight-second fuses, but I'd seen them go off with a six-count.
The question was settled for me when they moved to a hole not ten feet from me, set up, and opened fire again. I pulled the pin, let the handle fly, and tossed the grenade after three quick Mississippi's.
It went in their hole; I saw that much before I ducked and covered my ears. I saw one guy reach into the hole as another stared and screamed and yet another dove out of the hole. He didn't make it. The grenade went off as he was in the air and threw him an extra few feet.
My ears were ringing hard and a mix of dirt and wet stuff splattered on and around me as I realized that I now had one more problem to solve that evening; my uniform would be considerably beyond the usual definition of 'dirty' when I headed back, and I had no convenient way to explain it.
Oh, well. I'd figure out something. Approaching the hole, I saw that the machine gun didn't seem damaged, so I fired a burst at it and saw it fly open by the light of the muzzle flash before I lifted.
At a height of perhaps two hundred feet -- well above any rounds other than ricochets -- I changed magazines, dropping the old one as I looked around for Anna.
Her aura flitted among the VC in a quick, slightly zig-zag manner as she worked her way north. The American gunners up the hill kept firing, and Anna's path appeared to be taking her into the area they were pounding, but she suddenly arced sharply skyward.
I waved at her, knowing that she could see the change in my aura that my arms made at full extension. Mistake. In turning to face her, I'd turned away from the incoming fire. I heard several rounds hit metal below and a few tracers ricocheted upward past me at what seemed like extremely close range.
Moving well away from the machine gun nests below, I again waved at Anna and had started her direction when I heard the characteristic 'foonk' sounds of mortars being fired and turned my airborne amble into fastest-possible flying. Ours? Theirs?
Oh, shit! Ours!
"Anna, go up! Incoming! Go up!" I yelled, heading upward myself.
I couldn't tell if she'd heard me, but she saw me rocket skyward and followed. One of the machine gun nests disappeared in the second of three massive-seeming blasts, then three more such explosions happened to the south and three more not far beyond those.
At about two thousand feet -- judging by the scenery below -- I stopped climbing and Anna joined me. We watched the mortar blossoms walk across the area below in groups of three for a few minutes, then the mortars stopped and the entire battlefield below grew quiet.
"Why weren't they using those before?" asked Anna.
"No idea. We always kept them close at hand for such occasions."
Anna snickered. "Close at hand for such occasions, huh?"
Although she couldn't see my expression, it was one of mock minor exasperation as I said, "Yeah, lady. Such occasions."
She snickered again. "Why don't we grab a VC and head for a tree? You sound a little tense."
"Well, I was waiting to see where the VC would put their mortars, ma'am. I haven't seen any mortar teams moving up."
"Maybe there aren't any."
I said flatly, "Charlie doesn't come unprepared, milady."
"Maybe the teams were hit by the American mortars."
"Nope. Others would pick up the gear and keep going. The VC are like that, and nobody's sounded a retreat."
"Maybe the mortar teams are already where they're supposed to be and waiting for a signal to fire?"
"That would mean they're at either extreme range or hunkered down at very close range, 'cause everything in the middle just got plastered and we aren't seeing any motion in groups of three."
Anna was quiet for a moment, then she said, "You look up front. I'll look back here. If there are mortars, we'll find them."
We were about to split up to search when American M-60 fire stitched the area not far from their perimeter. I heard rounds skipping off metal and heard a scream, then the sixty zeroed in on the scream and more rounds skipped off metal.
"They must have starlite scopes up there," I said. "I think the VC just uncovered the mortars and someone spotted them moving."
In a very quiet voice, Anna asked, "Where can we get our hands on a starlite scope, Ed?"
"Damned if I know. They're pretty tight with them. Do we need one for something?"
"Yes. Well, what we really need is to see if we can be spotted with one. How do they work?"
"They magnify existing light in the visible spectrum, according to what they told me in training. Faint moonlight becomes like a streetlight. A candle can look like a spotlight and a flashlight can look like a beacon. I'd be more worried about infrared detectors, Anna. They spot heat."
"Would they have infrared detectors up there?"
"No, the current models are too big and heavy, but they'll probably be as portable as radios within the next few years. Just a thought, milady. We probably ought to keep an eye on special equipment."
She said quietly, "Yes, I think so, too."
More American fire found two other tubes near their perimeter. Anna touched my arm and headed toward the fringe of the VC activity, where she singled out an unfortunate soul and silenced him with her dagger, then lifted him toward some nearby trees.
A couple of cupfuls later Anna folded her cup and I lifted the VC some distance from our tree before dropping him on another VC.
"Stay or go?" I asked.
"Go," said Anna, lifting toward home.
"I'll need to swing by the barracks and pick up a clean uniform," I said, "This one's probably too cruddy to explain."
"We'll have a look at it after you hang your rifle in the tree. We can stop on a roof where there's some light."
"Might be spotted. Why not just go to Marian's room? I can ghost down the hall and back."
"Good enough."
But as we crested the ridge, it became evident that our evening would be interrupted. Four helicopters were flying our direction at full throttle. We stayed to one side as they passed and read their markings.
"They're from our outfit," said Anna. "Something big is going on."
Pointing back toward 3rd Surge, I said, "Yup. Check it out; four more coming. That means that everybody's up and moving back at the barracks. They're gonna wonder where the hell I am, Anna."
"Well, this solves your laundry problem, doesn't it? Follow the birds and load some wounded, then hop a ride back." She pulled me into a kiss and said, "See you later," then headed toward the hospital.
To save my energy, I flitted up to one of the oncoming helicopters and landed on the left skid as I got a grip on the door. The bird lurched slightly as my weight settled on the skid and the pilot compensated.
I'd thought they were going to where Anna and I had been, but they overshot that area and continued on for a few minutes. They didn't land immediately; the gunships circled the area as the medevac birds waited for clearance. I dropped off the skid and headed downward to see what was going on.
There were bodies everywhere, inside the wires and well beyond them, and it looked as if one helluva big explosion had occurred within the camp. I unghosted in a crouch behind some sandbags that had once formed a wall and looked around.
This was no place to be holding an AK; it was dark and the outline of the weapon might be all someone noticed before pulling a trigger. I looked around and found a couple of guys in a hole, both dead. One's M-16 looked smashed, but the other had been sheltered from whatever had exploded in the hole with them.
I took the good rifle and checked the magazine. Two rounds left. As I searched their ammo pouches, a guy ran up and looked in the hole. When I found no ammo in their pouches, the guy tossed me one of his own magazines and moved on.
For the next thirty minutes or so I helped treat wounded in one of the remaining intact bunkers. Helicopters landed and took off with the worst of them, and when it seemed that we were finally running out of wounded, I stepped outside and helped carry a stretcher to one of the helicopters, then climbed aboard and helped lock it down.
"Where's your gear?" asked the guy sitting beside me.
His nametag read 'Frazier' and he was a one-striper. No problem.
I pointed at one of the other helicopters that was already in the air and asked, "Where do you think?"
He glanced at the bird and nodded. Most of his excited chatter on the way back had to do with the amount and types of devastation he'd seen. I generally ignored him and kept an eye on the patients.
After we landed and offloaded the patients I headed to the ops desk and asked, "Do I have to go out again right away? I'd like to clean up a little."
The guy at the desk looked me over in surprise and asked, "What the hell happened to you?"
"Things got messy. What about it? Do I have time to hit the latrine?"
"The last run just went out. Unless something else happens, they can bring in the rest of them. Go ahead."
I headed for the latrine, making a point of being noticed by a number of people who knew me. Captain Wilson stepped away from the ops desk with a clipboard and spotted me, then strode over and eyed my uniform.
"We grabbed Delaney for your spot and took off without you," he said, "But I see you made it to the party, after all. Where were you?"
Holding my middle and giving him a slightly pained look, I asked, "Have you had the runs yet, Cap? No fun at all."
"Oh. Yeah, I had 'em during my second week here." Waving the clipboard in the direction of the latrine, he said, "Later. Go."
Colonel Bender came out of the ob-deck stairwell as I turned to go. His eyes took in the condition of my uniform as he approached and he raised an eyebrow in a wondering glance as he passed me, but he said nothing.
My uniform was too cruddy even to put in my laundry bag for fear of staining everything else in it, so I dumped my pockets in my locker and took off my boots, then stepped into the shower in my shirt and pants.
After washing most of the worst of the mess out of my uniform, I stripped and showered, then headed back to my locker. Beeker came into the barracks to tell me that Bender wanted to see me, so once I was again dressed and had cleaned my boots, I went to his office.
Without preamble and without offering me a chair, he said, "You looked like absolute hell a while ago. What happened out there?"
"Something exploded pretty close to me, Colonel."
"Well, damn! Are you okay?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good. Where were you when the balloon went up tonight?"
Mildly startled at the suddenness of his change of topic, I said, "I was outside, Colonel."
"What were you doing outside, Sergeant?"
"It's a nice night, sir. Everything was quiet and I was off duty, so I stepped outside. I'm not really used to air conditioning yet, I guess."
Leaning back in his chair, he fixed me with a studious gaze and asked, "Sergeant, were you visiting certain female officers in their quarters?"
Meeting his gaze, I said, "No, Colonel. I haven't been anywhere near that end of the hospital since dinnertime."
After a moment, he said, "You're the only one in this unit who seems to like walking around outside at night."
Nodding, I said, "Probably so, sir, but I'm also the only one in this unit who spent his first few months here sleeping in a bunker or a hole in the ground. Sometimes I get a little restless at night."
For some moments he said nothing, then, "Tell Beeker you need a new uniform on your way out, Sergeant, and don't wander off again tonight. We may have to go back out. Dismissed."
Things settled down and most of those who'd been rousted from their pastimes either returned to them or turned in for the night, but the ops office remained on alert and it seemed unlikely that I'd be able to get away to visit Marian's room even briefly.
Then I noticed the numerous coffee cups scattered around the offices and dayroom and began gathering them into an empty bandage box, dumping those that contained any coffee into the water fountain drain.
Once I'd collected the cups, some glasses, and a few other assorted dishes and utensils, I picked up the box and headed for the door without encountering a challenge to my leaving.
At the mess hall I put the box by the bus bins and got myself a cup of coffee, then headed for a table. At another table sat Captain Wilson and his current copilot, a warrant officer named Barnes, and a few other officers. When Wilson looked up, I waved, set my cup down on the table, and headed for the latrine across the hall.
The mess hall had been sparsely populated, but the hallway was empty for the moment. I stepped behind a fire door and ghosted, then lifted and headed toward the BOQ.
Near the ER, another aura like mine zipped out of a doorway and flew toward me. I stopped and she caught up with me.
"Glad I saw you coming," said Anna. "Marian was called back to the ER and probably won't get free for a while."
"Well, damn. I can't stay, Anna. Bender doesn't want me wandering off again in case we get another call tonight, and at the moment they think I'm at the mess hall."
"It's getting late, anyway," she said. "She'll be here on Saturday. We can all get together after you win back your .45."
"Sounds good. Any chance she'll get a break tonight?"
"No, they're rooting around for shrapnel in some kid's chest. She won't be out until they've closed him up."
"Well, then, how about giving her something for me, Anna?"
"What's that?"
I pulled her to me and said, "A kiss."
"I suppose I could do that."
Kissing her, then kissing her again, I said, "Thanks, milady."
"Oh, you're welcome. I take it the second kiss was for me?"
"That it was, but if you're feeling generous, you could give her both of them. I'd be more than happy to reimburse you."
"I'll do that. I'd better get back in there now."
Sighing, I let her go as I said, "This damned war is really getting in my way, Major Corinth, ma'am. I'm feeling pretty deprived right now."
She snickered and said, "Suffer gracefully. Later, Ed."
"Later, Anna."
After unghosting behind a fire door near the latrine, I walked across the corridor and headed for the table where I'd left my coffee. Captain Wilson saw me apparently coming from the latrine and shook his head sympathetically.
I finished my now-cool coffee and headed back to the barracks wing. The light was on in Bender's office, even though we were nearing eleven o'clock. He glanced up as I passed his door, but said nothing.
Chapter Thirty
Friday morning I found myself detailed to Anna for the entire day. After breakfast I went to her office and Sgt. Carter handed me a small stack of correspondence to be typed. I took the pile to my supply room office and got to work.
A little after ten Anna came in with Marian and we goodbye'd each other with words, hugs, and kisses until Marian bit her lip, blew her nose, and dried her tears.
After a couple of deep breaths, she nodded to Anna, who nodded in return and went to open the door. In the ward's lobby I grabbed Marian's duffle bag and B-bag and we headed for the medevac helipad.
The gunship on the pad was piloted by Captain Wilson. As we neared, he hopped out of the bird too late to help with the luggage, but not too late to create an opportunity to talk with the ladies.
With a tap on my shoulder, he said, "C'mon. Introduce me, Sarge."
Nodding, I said, "Ladies, this is Captain Wilson. He's a pilot of some sort."
He snorted a laugh and asked, "That's it? They already had that much."
"Sorry, Cap. I don't really know anything else about you."
Anna extended a hand and said, "No problem. We know about pilots. Good morning, Captain Wilson."
"Ron," said Wilson with a grin.
"Captain Wilson," corrected Anna.
Marian snickered at his expression and also shook his hand, then reached for Anna's. When she reached for mine, I gave her hand an extra little squeeze and whispered, "Watch out for hungry pilots, pretty lady."
She grinned at me and nodded, then I handed her into the chopper and glanced at Wilson to ask, "You had a chance to look through the manual for this thing yet, Captain, sir? You know which buttons do what?"
"Oh, yeah," he said, grinning at Marian's roll of her eyes. "No sweat. Nothing to it."
"Glad you got another gunship, Cap."
He grinned and said, "Me, too, Sarge. Me, too," before he tossed a semi-salute at Anna and walked around the bird to get back into the cockpit. Anna and I watched as the blades spun faster and eventually lifted the helicopter into the air. Marian waved and we waved back, then the chopper nosed toward 12th Evac and sped away.
Anna looked a little bleary-eyed as we turned to go back inside. I offered her my handkerchief, but she'd already reached into her purse for a tissue.
As we entered the ops office, I said, "They kick up a helluva lot of dust, don't they? Want to take a minute in the latrine, ma'am?"
She looked at her hanky and tersely said, "No, thanks. I'll be fine," as we walked through the office to the hospital corridor.
That afternoon Anna returned from lunch in fatigues and boots. At the range, she signed for a training pistol and a box of ammo and missed only seven of fifty targets, well impressing the three other men there.
We sipped coffee in a corner of the office after cleaning and turning in our pistols, talking about Saturday's match with Major Stewart, who'd been somewhat surprised when Anna had also drawn a weapon.
Looking him dead in the eye, Anna said, "He won't ask, but I will, Major. Will it be a straight contest tomorrow, or has it been preordained that Ainsley will win?"
Stewart looked mildly shocked and offended, but Anna's look didn't waver. After a moment, Stewart shrugged and sipped his coffee.
"I asked Col. Bender the same question," he admitted. "He said that the object of the match was to create a unique circumstance within his unit; one that could be exploited at a later date."
"Like when he's up for his first star in a few months?" I suggested, "And he wants his name to ring some bells?"
Looking at me rather narrowly, Stewart said, "That was my impression, as well."
"Then may I make a suggestion, Major? Why not a real show? After I win my .45, let's shoot some skeet."
"Skeet? With a .45?"
"Just to say we did it, sir. It won't matter if we hit any or not by the time the story's been around a while, but I think I can still nail a few."
"Still? You've done it before? You're serious?"
"There's a launcher in the arms room. Got someone to run it?"
Stewart looked at me for a moment, then stood up and called, "Ballard! Do you know how to load and launch clay birds?"
Private Ballard said, "Yes, sir."
"Well, then, set it up with a box of birds and stand by. The sergeant, here, is about to try his luck at skeet with a .45."
"Uh... Yes, sir."
Looking at me, Stewart said, "I'll let you use my weapon, Sergeant. It needs cleaned, anyway."
"Thanks, Major. I'll grab a box of shells and reload my magazines."
As he went to his office, Anna leaned across the table and whispered, "Are you sure this is a good idea, Ed?"
"A friend of mine and I used to try to outdo each other with her .45 every time we took it out. You ought to see what a .45 round does to an old baseball or a chunk of sandstone, milady. An old potato or a crabapple makes a nice mess, too."
She sat back in her chair, still looking at me as if I might be nuts.
Fifteen minutes later we stood at the ready as Ballard manned the launcher. I racked the .45 to load a round and let it hang at my side.
"Pull," I said.
The bird flew and I fired two quick rounds. The clay pigeon exploded.
"Jesus," said Stewart. "You actually hit the damned thing."
"Holy shit," said Ballard, then he quickly looked up and apologized to Anna and Stewart.
I said, "Pull." It took me three quick shots to hit the bird.
With two rounds left, I said, "Pull," again. The bird got away clean, sailing a good distance before smashing to the ground.
"Two out of three," said Anna. "Not bad."
Stewart shook his head and said, "Luck. Just plain damned luck."
Anna glanced at him, but said nothing. Shoving another clip into the .45 and racking it to load a round, I said, "Ballard. Pull."
When the gun racked open after the last of fifty rounds, I'd hit eighteen of the clay pigeons and Major Stewart was grinning like an idiot as he enthused, "By God, some of the guys who come out here can't do that well with a twelve-gauge! You're on, Sergeant! By God, you're on! We'll give 'em a goddamned show tomorrow!"
Ballard simply sat by the launcher, staring at me as I thumbed the slide toggle to let the .45 slam shut and handed the gun to Stewart.
Anna calmly asked, "May I suggest that we tell everyone that there'll be some skeet-shooting after the match? Some people may have to allot a little extra time."
"Oh. Uh, yeah. Good idea," said Stewart, staring at his .45. Looking up at us, he grinningly added, "But we won't tell 'em anything else, right?"
Shrugging, Anna said, "Oh, I see no reason not to surprise them."
Something seemed to occur to Stewart and he pointed at Ballard, who froze in the midst of folding the launcher.
"Get in there and tell Parks to come out here," said Stewart, "We don't want him calling anybody about this. Total security, Ballard. Nobody finds out he's gonna be using a .45 until after tomorrow's match, got it? Go!"
"Yes, sir!" said Ballard, running toward the range control office.
But, of course, it was already too late, as we discovered when we returned to the hospital. As we fell into a march up the hallway from the motor pool entrance, we saw Colonel Bender heading for Anna's office with a similar stride.
"Uh, oh," said Anna. "Good news or bad?"
"No idea. He looks a little tense, though."
"He looks a lot tense, Ed."
When we entered the office, Bender was leaning on a desk, his arms crossed and a rather severe expression on his face.
"Good afternoon, Major," he said to Anna. "I'd like a moment with the sergeant in private, please."
Anna looked at me with a raised eyebrow, then said, "Of course, Colonel. Use my office."
Bender unassed the desk and headed for the door at a pace designed to make me hurry in order to get there first to open it for him. As soon as the door closed, he rounded on me with what must have been his best glare, his hands together behind his back and his feet slightly apart.
I met his gaze and waited the few moments before he spoke.
"Sergeant, there will be some relatively important people at the range tomorrow. You did know that, didn't you?"
"Yes, sir."
"Who came up with the idea of shooting skeet?"
"I did, sir. Major Stewart..."
"Sergeant," he interrupted, "If you screw up my show tomorrow, you'll find yourself back in the bush by Sunday. Without your goddamned .45. Without your goddamned stripes, too. Unarmed and fucking naked if I can possibly arrange it. Do you understand me, Sergeant?"
"Yes, Colonel, I..."
He raised both hands in protest and said, "No. Whatthehellever you're about to say, I don't want to hear it right now. I just wanted you to know for absolutely certain what will happen if you screw things up tomorrow."
With that, he whipped around, yanked open the office door, and marched out of Anna's office. I heard him say, "Good afternoon, Major," in a flat, terse tone, then I heard the outer door shut rather too firmly.
As I started for the door, Anna came in and shut it, then turned to face me, a look of grinning wonder on her face.
"God, but he was pissed!" she almost whispered, then she nearly doubled over with barely contained laughter and staggered to the couch.
"He threatened to send me back to the bush naked, ma'am," I said. "Thanks so much for your concern about my future well-being."
That made her containment burst and a short bark of laughter filled the office. Almost immediately came a knock at the door.
"Ma'am?" called Sgt. Carter, "Are you all right?"
"Well, shit," I muttered as I went to the door. "Everybody's worried about everybody but me."
Anna laughed aloud again as I opened the door slightly and said, "We're both fine for the moment, Carter."
Obviously wondering what I meant by 'both', she asked, "Huh?"
"Nothing. Bender was a little pissed about something, that's all."
Letting loose another bark of laughter, Anna pounded on the arm of the couch and snickered a few times.
"See?" I asked, "She's fine. Sort of."
Appeased but confused, Carter retreated. With a dubious look at Anna that made her laugh again, I followed Carter out, went to my supply-room office, and cranked up the Selectric.
Anna went out around three and hadn't returned by five. I called the ops desk to see if I'd been placed on CQ or other duties, then went to dinner from Anna's office. When I walked into the mess hall, heads turned and table chatter quieted here and there around the room.
As I loaded a tray, Vortmann and Richter got up, but when I shook my head at them and held up a hand, they settled back into their seats. I was considering sitting alone when Bender and Wilson walked in and came to the serving line.
"Major Corinth convinced me to call Major Stewart," said Bender. "Now that I know what happened out there, I'll apologize for ranting at you."
Wilson asked, "You really hit eighteen birds?"
I nodded. "Back in Texas a lady and I used to shoot her daddy's .45 on her property. We both got to where we could hit crows with it. With skeet you just shoot quick, before they get too far out. They follow a pretty straight line, you know. Unless the wind gets under them."
"Well, still," said Wilson. "Goddamn. Skeet."
Holding my plate so the steak-server could drop a slab of meat on it, I said, "Anything even a little unusual makes people freak out, Cap. Colonel Bender, I know you'll be up for a star fairly soon. As I understand it, there'll be press out there and this is more about publicity than anything else. That's why I asked Major Stewart to let me put on a show. He made me prove to him that it wouldn't be a mistake."
Nodding, Bender said, "I'll have to thank him for that."
Pointing at the fat, fresh cinnamon rolls, I said, "I'll be taking one of those up to LT Hardesty later. Would you two like to come along?" Glancing at Bender, then Wilson, I added, "He's stuck up there by himself, you know. All alone, sirs; his only human companionship the lovely nurses who help him bathe and wait on him hand and foot in harem outfits. They haven't moved him to a ward yet."
Wilson laughed and Bender chuckled. Neither of them made excuses not to go to ICU with me. As we ate, we talked about a range of subjects that seemed carefully chosen to avoid any real depth, and when we finished eating, I bundled a cinnamon roll and we headed for ICU.
I showed Hardesty the roll and told him that I had to let the guards check it first, then went to the nurse's station while Bender and Wilson went in to see Hardesty.
The nurse-lieutenant's nametag read Bartle.
"LT," I said, "Would you mind calling me out of there to help you with something in about fifteen minutes?"
She peered at me and said, "I don't need any help, Sergeant."
"I want to give those guys some time with Hardesty," I said. "Time without an enlisted man in the room, you know?"
Shrugging, Bartle said, "Well, no, not really, but okay."
"Cool. Thanks."
She then cut the roll in half, as expected, and I took it in to Hardesty, who commented that if it weren't for me, he'd be stuck with hospital food.
"All the food here comes from the same kitchen," said Wilson. "It's all hospital food."
"Yeah, but the stuff up here is different. I think they add cardboard and vitamins or something like that. It all tastes funny."
"Kind of metallic?" I asked. "That would be your antibiotics messing with your taste and smell, LT. If things taste somewhat dull and cheesy, that would come from 'B' vitamins. About the only things that won't taste funny with your meds are straight salt and sugar."
Wilson looked at me oddly for a moment, then told Hardesty about the morning shootout. Hardesty was appropriately impressed and enthused and said he regretted not being able to be there.
Some few minutes later the nurse poked her head in to ask me to help her with something and I excused myself. At the nurse's station I first called Anna's office, then her BOQ room. No answer at either number. Hanging up, I sat down to kill a few minutes with a magazine.
Anna's presence preceded her. I stood up and looked down the hall, but didn't see her until her white-gold aura flashed around the corner and headed my way. She remained ghosted as she settled beside me and leaned to kiss me, then she sat down so she was below the reception counter and unghosted.
"Hi," she grinningly whispered. Standing up, she said, "I figured you'd be here when you weren't anywhere else. How's that for deduction?"
"Hard logic. I'd expect nothing less from an officer, ma'am."
"Smartass. Been in to see Hardesty yet?"
"I brought him a cinnamon roll and two field-grade officers."
"Two? Bender's probably one of them, right? Who else?"
"Wilson. I ducked out here for a while so they could chat without having to watch their language."
Anna rolled her eyes and gave me a wry little grin. "Yeah, well, I guess I'll go in now, too. Since I won't have to watch my language, that is."
She sauntered down the hall to Hardesty's door and knocked twice, then said, "Oh, I didn't realize you'd have company, Lt. Hardesty. Should I come back later?"
Hardesty said, "Oh, dear God, no, ma'am! Come on in! I never really expected to see you again!"
As she entered the room, she said, "I don't know why. I work right here in the building and we have a friend in common, don't we?"
"Uh, yes, we certainly do. Ed's here, by the way. He stepped out to help the nurse with something."
I could imagine Bender's expression when Hardesty used my first name in conversation with Anna. After giving them a few more minutes to get settled, I went back to the room and tapped on the door unnecessarily.
Hardesty looked past Anna and said, "Look who showed up, Sarge."
Grinning at Anna, I said, "Wow, you must be pretty important around here, LT."
He laughed and said, "Well, by God, I guess so. Can you believe she actually asked if she should come back later?"
In mock shock, I said, "No! Really? Major Corinth, there isn't a normal man on earth who wouldn't cast himself at your feet." In a confidential tone, I added, "And I'm really kind of surprised that you didn't already know that, ma'am."
Grinningly returning my confidential tone, she whispered, "Oh, I knew it, Sergeant, but it isn't polite to be arrogant about such things."
Nodding understandingly, I said, "Ah. Yes, ma'am. Indeed so."
Hardesty was well entertained. Wilson seemed ready to laugh. Bender appeared to be trying to keep himself from reprimanding me for undue familiarity with Anna.
Turning to Hardesty, I said, "LT, the room's about full and I'm the only non-officer here. Why don't I come back later so you guys can talk about all the things I'm not supposed to know?"
Hardesty laughed and then winced, generating varying levels of concern around the room.
I moved to look at his bandages and said, "Stop doing that, LT. If you start leaking again the nurse'll blame me and I'll wind up as a frostbitten Private somewhere near the Arctic Circle."
Snickering, Hardesty said, "Ow. Damn. No, Sarge, they'll probably hang you instead, so the bean counters can save the Army a few bucks and reissue your boots."
While I was there I checked his IV and said, "Yeah, well, when they find out how you've been loafing around up here, we'll be filling sandbags on the same hilltop, LT. Are you getting pains from your shoulder up into your neck? Do your thumb and first two fingers go numb?"
He looked up in surprise and said, "Yes. How did you know?"
"Secretaries get it all the time. You probably have a pinched nerve." I touched the spot on the back of his neck and said, "Right about there. It isn't too bad yet or your whole arm would be going numb instead of just your fingers. Tell them when it happens, LT. You have a very limited range of motion and the numbness means you need to change positions, even if it hurts a little somewhere else when you do it. I'm going to hit the road and let the nurse know about it."
As I moved away from the bed, he said, "Thanks. I was wondering what the hell was causing that."
Nodding to all present, I headed for the door.
Chapter Thirty-one
Around eight I stepped behind a fire door outside the barracks wing and ghosted, then slipped outside to look for Anna. An aura like mine was standing on the edge of the roof above ward six.
Settling beside her, I said, "Don't jump, lady. It would be such a waste."
"Glad you think so," said Anna, leaning to kiss me. "Any problems getting loose for the evening?"
"Nobody said anything and I'm not on duty later, but we probably ought to stay close enough to know if the birds take off."
"Yeah," she said, lifting into the night sky. "We got lucky last night. If there'd been a call from anywhere else... Have you given any thought to how we're going to find VC so close to a base?"
"We can head for the local bush and run a little sweep of our own. Bet we turn up some watchers, if nothing else."
Our first quick circuit of the base just beyond the fences turned up zero, so we moved out a hundred yards and started another orbit. About halfway around, adjacent to the fuel dump, we finally spotted two auras approaching each other along a faint trail next to the dump.
One was almost marching along, but the other seemed to be moving in a much more furtive fashion. Descending to check them out, we discovered they weren't VC.
Their muted conversation identified one as being with the guard unit assigned to the hospital when he mentioned having CQ duty the previous evening as a reason for missing a meet.
The other guy seemed in a crappy mood as he said, "I don't give a flyin' fuck about your personal problems, man. You got the bread?"
Money and a baggie changed hands and the second guy turned to leave without another word. The first guy muttered something that sounded unkind as he hunkered down on the trail and produced a cooking spoon, a candle, and a strap.
"Heroin," said Anna in a flat tone, moving forward with her dagger.
"Wait one," I said. "He's not going anywhere and we may be able to use him later. Let's take out the other guy first."
Anna glanced at the guy who was trying to light his candle in the slight breeze and shook her head despairingly. Moving to follow the dealer, we found him picking his way past one of the sentries. I stepped in front of him and shoved my blade into his chest as Anna covered his mouth for silence.
Once he was on the ground, we went through his pockets and found two small baggies of heroin and close to three hundred dollars.
Using his shirt to clean my bayonet and wipe the baggies clean of our prints, I stuffed both baggies in his mouth with the butt of my bayonet and split the money with Anna.
"Might as well keep the money," I said. "They'll have the baggies for evidence. Did we touch anything else? Belt buckle, boots, anything they can get a print from?"
"I don't think so," she said.
Nodding, I stood up and yelled, "No! Don't! No!" then we lifted to watch the sentry freak out and call for help. Two jeeps showed up and shortly there were half a dozen people edging cautiously along the trail, their weapons at the ready.
When they found the body, one of them was sent the short distance back to the jeep, where he radioed in. Ten minutes later the place was swarming with MP's who spread out to secure the area.
A small noise behind us made us turn and look and we saw an aura seemingly rise out of the ground and hurry away. We swooped down on the scurrying aura and found a VC in black PJ's. Anna grabbed him and snapped his neck, then we hauled him into a tree a hundred yards from the base fenceline.
Anna had her dagger out and was about to use it when I again said, "Wait one, ma'am."
She froze and looked at me with a sigh.
"Why the hell am I 'waiting one' this time?"
"Because he has a broken neck and it would look a helluva lot better if they found him stuck on a branch."
She nodded as she lowered her dagger.
"An accidental fall from the tree, huh? Yeah. Okay."
Near the base of the tree was a small, dead tree. I broke off the top few feet and we took the VC high enough to do the job, then dropped him on the stub. The spike of dead wood broke again after impaling the VC and he fell to the ground.
Popping her cup open, Anna yanked the spike far enough out of the guy to allow him to fill the cup, then shoved it back to cork him. We passed her cup back and forth for a while, then headed for her BOQ room.
After a tumble in her bed to quell our urgencies and a long, luxurious shower in which we rebuilt those urgencies, we went back to bed for another round of pleasures.
Somewhere near midnight Anna sighed in an exaggerated manner that I knew to mean that our evening was about to end.
"You're gonna throw me out, aren't you?" I asked.
"Yup," she said. "You have a big day tomorrow."
"I'd consider giving up a whole tomorrow for a little bit more of tonight, milady."
"A lovely sentiment. Not possible, though. Up. Out."
At the door a few minutes later I kissed her and said, "Gee, lady, I had a real good time tonight. Want to do it again sometime?"
With a snicker, she said, "Yeah, sure, GI. You know where to find me."
Ghosting, I flew out the door and down the corridor, then unghosted behind a fire door near the mess hall, got a Coke, and continued on my way to the barracks. The CQ -- someone I didn't know -- looked up from Beeker's Playboy magazine as I entered the lobby, but said nothing.
I was roused in the morning at seven -- a whole blessed hour later than usual -- by the last CQ of the night, who told me that Bender was on his way and that I was supposed to be ready to roll when he got there.
Vortmann came in as I was brushing my teeth, said, "Hi, Sarge," and stood beside me, waiting for me to finish.
Spitting and rinsing, I said, "No comment."
"Huh?"
"How about telling everybody to leave me alone this morning, Vortmann? At least until this match is over, anyway."
"Oh. Uh, yeah. Okay. I just came in to see if something was true."
"What something is that?"
"Blair said you were gonna shoot skeet. With a .45."
"What would you do with that information, Vortmann? Tell Richter?"
"Well, yeah, sure, but..."
"Then the answer's yes, but you didn't hear it from me."
He seemed dubious as I pulled my shirt on and combed my hair.
"Really? No shit? You're not just saying that because Richter will hear about it?"
"Yup. Now that you know, you'll keep everybody away from me until it's over, right?"
"Uh. Yeah, I'll pass the word, Sarge." He turned to go, then fidgeted and asked, "This is really for real, right?"
"Yeah, it's really for real," I said, heading for the door. "You're supposed to be ahead of me, clearing a path through the crowd, Vortmann."
There was no crowd in the barracks, but he hopped ahead of me saying, "Oh! Yeah! Okay!" and headed for the ops office. I headed for Bender's office and knocked on the open door.
Bender looked up from a folder and asked, "How are you feeling this morning, Sergeant?"
"Ready, Colonel. I'd prefer that you, Major Corinth, or the XO be with me at all times until this is over, sir. I don't want to deal with people and I don't want to talk to the press at all unless you're there."
He nodded, stood up and dropped the folder on his desk, then called Beeker in and said, "Beeker, find Sgt. Samuels and have him meet us at the mess hall." To me, he said, "The XO's with Wilson, picking up people at your old unit. Next trip, they'll swing by 12th Evac for Captain Hartley and some others there. Samuels will be your escort if the rest of us are unavailable for any reason."
We trooped out of the office and up the corridor to the mess hall, picking up my competitor, Sgt. Ainsley, on the way. Anna was coming from the other direction and we waited at the doors for her to join us, then we all loaded trays and took seats.
Sgt. Samuels arrived a few minutes later and Bender simply said, "Until the match is over, you'll escort the shooters. They aren't to speak to the press at all unless I'm there. Major Corinth, officers from our unit and his old unit, the range bosses, and a few others we'll point out to you will be the only people below my rank to be allowed near the shooters."
With a nod, Samuels said, "Yes, sir," then he went to get a coffee. Anna grinned at me as she sipped her own coffee, but said nothing.
After a breakfast that lasted nearly an hour, Captain Drake, Sgt. Andrews, and Sgt. Nelson came into the mess hall and joined us. Drake said he'd left the unit in the hands of his brand-new XO, a 1st lieutenant named Devrys who actually knew how to read a map. I looked at Andrews and he nodded.
"He really does," said Andrews. "We just couldn't fuh... uh, we just couldn't believe it at first."
Another half-hour of table chat ensued until Marian arrived with a few officers and an NCO from 12th Evac and two guys with cameras -- one of whom was from the 'Stars and Stripes' newspaper -- showed up.
Bender talked to the news guys at another table for a time, then let them speak with Ainsley and me as he went somewhere to check on arrangements.
Ainsley puffed up a little and said all the usual things about sportsmanship and friendly competition. When the news guys turned to me and asked why I'd accepted such a challenge, I told them that I was in it to win the right to carry my .45.
"That's it? That's the only reason?"
"Nobody's offered me anything else."
"Nothing? No stripes? No leave time? Not even a bottle of booze?"
"Nope. Feel free to suggest those to somebody, though."
The reporter pretended to look at his notes for a moment, then asked, "Sergeant, has anyone suggested that if you lose, you'll be sent back to your old unit? Or anything like that?"
"Army policy doesn't allow punishment over things like this."
"That's not what I asked, Sergeant. I..."
"That's the answer," I interrupted him. "Unless you want me to ask Colonel Bender that question for you." Looking at Ainsley, I asked, "Hey, Ainsley, has anyone offered to send you to a line unit if you lose?"
Ainsley looked rather sharply at the reporter and replied, "Nope."
Around nine-thirty Bender returned to tell us that our chariots had arrived and we piled into two Army-issue school buses for the trip to the range. As the spectators found seats in the bleachers, Bender led our little group to the range office.
Through the small side window I saw two staff cars park near the building and pointed. Bender and Stewart looked, then immediately went out to bring in General Horner and some other senior officers from brigade.
After a round of handshakes and introductions, our weapons were logged and certified, then issued to us. Ainsley and I took a few moments to strip and lube our weapons and pack our ammo pouches, then we sipped Cokes as the rules were explained to everybody one last time.
Major Stewart said, "Targets will be at the first three distances only at each of two range positions. Only one shot per target, gentlemen. Scoring is based on hits or misses and the amount of time the target is upright as recorded on the machine upstairs. Any questions?"
There were none. We went outside and took our positions, loaded our weapons, and stood ready as Stewart advised everybody to be quiet over the range speakers. When the buzzer sounded, a target popped up for each of us and the match got underway.
The fiftieth round emptied my .45 and jacked it open as Ainsley fired at his last target, then lowered his rifle. The range attendants came out and checked our weapons, dropping the magazines and yelling, "No brass, no ammo!" after checking each weapon's chamber.
For a moment the audience remained quiet, then there was everything from applause to shrill whistles. I turned to look at Anna, Bender, and Marian and grinningly shrugged as I let my empty .45 slam shut and put it in my holster.
Quite a few of the guys surrounded Ainsley with a bit of clamoring as I walked up to Bender and asked, "Well, Colonel? How'd it look to you?"
Nodding, he said, "I think you got it, Sergeant. Just barely, but I think you got it. Neither of you missed any, so it's a matter of time."
Turning to Anna and Marian, he said, "We're only talking a tenth or maybe two tenths of a second's difference on any target, you know."
As he turned back to me, Anna gave him a fisheye look and Marian pretended starry-eyed 'Oh, wow!' innocence for a moment before muffling a snicker with a cough. Bender looked confused.
"Colonel," I said, "They're nurses. They know about timing things."
"Oh!" he said, turning back to them. "Uh, sorry, ladies. I wasn't thinking. Of course as nurses you'd understand about tenths of seconds... Oh, hell. Now I'm just digging the hole a little deeper, right?"
Shaking her head, Anna said, "Don't worry about it, Colonel."
Marian's snicker turned into a chuckle as one of the range bosses came to talk to Bender for a moment, then Bender raised his arms and said, "Ladies and gentlemen! There will be a short intermission, after which the results will be announced. Please stand by."
A range boss took my .45 and handed me a box of shells. I began reloading my magazines and putting them in my left ammo pouch. Anna and Marian each picked up a magazine and also started snapping rounds into them as Sgt. Samuels watched them work in minor amazement.
"Stop at twenty-five," said Anna.
Looking up, I asked, "Why, milady?"
"Because I'm going to borrow Stewart's gun. You'll be shooting against me in skeet."
I'm sure I looked as stunned as she'd ever seen me. Marian's expression matched mine as she stared at Anna.
Leaning forward, I very quietly asked, "Uh, Anna, are you sure...?"
"Yes," she interrupted firmly. "It'll be fun. Load up. I'll spring it on them after you've been officially awarded your .45."
Marian asked, "Anna, is this really such a good idea?"
With a big shrug, Anna asked, "Is it such a bad idea? We're just going to have some fun. The real match is over, Marian."
Major Stewart and Colonel Bender came out of the range office, each holding a sheet of paper high as the PA system came on and one of the range bosses said, "Your attention please!" then announced that I'd won the match by all of one and four-tenths seconds.
As the results were thumbtacked to the sheltered bulletin board, I heard some oohs and ahs and some quiet swearing and saw money change hands among some people in the stands.
Bender handed me a sheet of yellow legal pad paper upon which was written "You Got It!" in big letters and said that a proper certificate would be made and provided later. He then presented me my .45 as two cameras flashed. One of the reporters then went to the bulletin board and took some notes from the score sheets.
That's when Anna chose to take Major Stewart aside for a quiet word. He looked as if she'd suggested something far stranger than borrowing his gun to shoot skeet. She said something else to him and he glanced at Bender, then at me.
I shrugged and smiled as I nodded and said, "Sure! Why not?"
Bender had noted the byplay. He looked at Anna and Stewart, then at me, and asked, "Why not what, Sergeant?"
"Major Corinth wants to shoot skeet, sir. She wants to split a box of ammo with me and see who scores best."
Looking first at me as if I were insane, then at Anna in a similar fashion, he stepped over there and -- not really quietly enough -- asked Anna what the hell she thought she was doing.
The little group moved farther away for some moments and held an apparently somewhat strident whispered discussion, then Bender seemed to resign himself to the idea. Anna nodded firmly at something he said, then took the gun offered to her by Stewart.
Bender raised his arms again to quiet the crowd and rather somberly announced that Major Anna Corinth and I would be shooting skeet with pistols in about ten minutes.
Chapter Thirty-two
The crowd largely reacted to the news as expected; that is, in all possible ways. Some laughed, some seemed concerned, money changed hands again, and some of the guys yelled, "Yeah!", "All right!", and "Show him how it's done, Major!"
Ballard brought out the launcher and someone else brought out a box of clay birds and we sipped our Cokes as things were set up, then Bender again called the crowd's attention and explained what they were about to see and why what we were about to do should be considered unusual.
Stewart brought out a Remington 1100 semi-auto shotgun and had Ballard launch a few birds for him. He hit three of the four and Stewart explained that the shot pattern was about a foot and a half wide that far out.
He then said that Anna and I would be trying to nail our birds within the first thirty feet or so, that we'd fire until empty, and that we could shoot as many as three times per bird.
Having said all that, Bender produced a quarter and held it on his thumbnail as he told us to call it. I looked at Anna and she said, "Heads." The quarter landed Washington-up and she grinned as she handed her purse to Marian and we walked to the firing position.
I held the magazines for her. She took one and slapped it into the gun, yanked the slide back, thumbed the slide release to load a round, and aimed downrange as she said, "Pull."
Ballard yanked the lanyard and the bird sailed safely away as Anna fired twice quickly and missed. When she hit the third bird, a few people in the crowd reacted with shouts and whistles. Anna then managed to hit four more before her .45 racked open and empty on her last magazine.
Some of the crowd went moderately insane, cheering and whistling. Others seemed somewhat stunned, Bender and Stewart included. Anna gave me a little grin of pleasure and flicked her eyebrows at me as she stepped away from the firing station.
'Five birds,' I thought, 'Damn.'
"She's making you work for it," said Major Stewart.
"No shit," I returned as I stared at Anna, then added, "Sir."
He chuckled and checked to see that Ballard was ready.
Stepping up to the mark and fishing a magazine out of my left pouch, I shoved it into my .45, thumbed the slide to seat a round, and said, "Pull."
The trick is to get the birds as quickly as possible, while they're visible in a straight track outward and before aiming becomes more than a matter of instinct. I managed to hit seven birds, some of them shattering so close they sprayed us with shards.
The crowd reacted in the many ways that crowds do after such things and Anna stepped over to shake my hand as she grinningly whispered, "I let you win."
Grinning back at her as we shook hands, I whispered, "Crap."
She laughed and whispered, "I've been using forty-fives since they were first sold to the public, Ed."
"Still crap, milady Major. You aren't the kind who'd let anybody win."
Laughing again, Anna said, "So I'm a little out of practice."
Bender caught her last remark as he approached and he shook her hand as he said, "Not much, Major. That was damned good shooting."
Shaking my hand, he added, "You, too, Sergeant; even though I was warned that you might hit a few, I was really impressed. By God, you two sure put on a show today."
After another round with the press guys, we mingled with the crowd for a few minutes, then Bender called us into the range office as people boarded the buses to return to the hospital.
General Horner was already inside; he again shook our hands and congratulated us, then tried to monopolize Anna, if only for conversation. I took the opportunity to clean and oil my .45 and spare magazines as a number of us talked and sipped Cokes, then Horner announced that he had to get back to brigade and glad-handed us all again with thanks for a good show.
Somewhat belatedly, I realized that Ainsley wasn't among us and asked where he was. Samuels said that Ainsley had joined his usual group in the bleachers right after the first match.
"Was he cool with the way things turned out?" I asked.
"Oh, yeah," said Samuels. "No sweat."
Still, I decided to talk to Ainsley later. I'd only beaten him by just over a second on fifty targets, and any number of little things could have turned the match his way.
I noticed that Wilson also seemed to be missing and mentioned that to Bender. He grinned and said that Wilson would be back in a few minutes. Anna heard his comment and Bender grinned.
"Major Corinth," said Bender, "You don't get much air time, do you?"
"Well, I haven't been in a helicopter for some time," she said with a small smile, "But I'm afraid I don't impress too easily, Colonel. Flying never seems to bother me at all."
Covering a snort of laughter with a cough as if I'd inhaled some of my Coke, I packed my spare magazines into my pouches. Both Anna and Marian spared me a grinning glance as I again cleared my throat.
Some fifteen minutes later Wilson showed up in a transport bird instead of a gunship and set down in the parking area behind the building. I was surprised to learn that Marian wasn't immediately returning to 12th Evac with the others; she'd made arrangements with Wilson for the evening.
She and Anna excused themselves toward the end of lunch. Bender stuck around to talk and 'just be one of the guys' for a while, then he, too, disappeared.
Drake, Andrews, Nelson, and I managed to spend close to an hour with Hardesty before the nurse tossed us out and they had to catch a flight back to their unit.
Samuels half-jokingly reminded me that wearing the .45 around the hospital would be inappropriate and that I'd have to leave it in the arms room between medevac runs.
That also meant that I'd be unable to wear it when Anna and I hunted, of course. No biggie; I'd probably be better off using whatever was conveniently available, anyway. When I finished a hunt with a 'found' rifle, I could either stash it somewhere or get rid of it.
Around three I went to my locker for my book and took it to the ob-deck for some quiet time, and that's where I was when Anna, Marian, and Wilson came looking for me a bit more than an hour later.
We visited through dinner, then walked Marian and Wilson to the helipad to see them off, after which Anna and I stood alone by the pad. Anna said that Marian and Wilson might go to a movie together Sunday and let the sentence stand alone as if it had special import. When she looked at me, I shrugged.
"She's a big girl, Anna. She can handle a simple chopper pilot."
"Oh, I know that, but... Well, Marian's a one-man-at-a-time woman."
"Then I hope he's a good man and that she has a good time. I hear what you're saying, Anna. She won't be with us for a while if she hooks up with him. I also know that being with him won't necessarily preclude you."
Shrugging again, I said, "It would just preclude me. I don't know what I should or could do about that, so I won't worry about it. Besides, you're more than enough for me and you know it."
Laughing, she asked, "You really feel that way, or are you just saying that because I'm now the only woman in your life at the moment?"
Looking her over from head to toe, I said, "I'm not feeling at all deprived. I promise you that, milady."
Bender and someone else walked past the glass doors of the ops office with a sidelong glance at us.
"We've been noticed," said Anna. "Best we break this up. See you on the roof in a little while. Tell me a few things I don't really need to know about helicopters as we go through the office."
Getting the door for her, I said, "Will do," then explained the main differences between the UH-1B and 1D models until we were past the ops desk and into the corridor beyond. She nodded now and then as I spoke of side-door styles and equipment choices, then thanked me for the information and left.
After putting my book in my locker, I headed for the mess hall. The intersecting corridor near the mess hall was empty, so I pretended to wave to someone and walked into it, then looked around to make sure I was out of sight and ghosted.
Anna's aura flitted out a door at the end of a ward and arced toward me some minutes later, and after a greeting kiss we lifted toward the base's perimeter to begin our hunt.
Two fruitless circuits of the base later, I said, "This isn't getting it. We either need a way to flush out any VC who might be down there or we need to move out a bit and check some inbound trails. If we stay downwind of the base, we'll be able to hear the birds twice as far away."
Hovering near me, Anna said nothing for a moment, then, "The VC last night was sitting in a covered hole. We didn't see him until he moved when it seemed likely that someone would step on his cover."
"It might be hard to find volunteers to beat the bushes for us, milady, but the VC probably pop up for a look when there's helicopter activity. Wilson should be coming back from 12th soon. Why don't we just pick a likely spot and wait and see if he rattles up some Chucks for us?"
She chuckled. "'Rattles' them up?"
"Yeah. Like with earthworms. You drive a stake in the ground and rub the top of it with another one. The vibrations drive worms to the surface, then you grab 'em and toss 'em in your bait can. They call it 'rattling' because of the sound it makes."
Anna gave me the fisheye look. "People really do that?"
"They do, indeed, milady. In some parts of the south they even hold rattling contests."
"Have you ever tried it?"
"Nope. I use lures. Never did like handling worms. Yuck."
Anna laughed softly as she headed for some trees adjacent to the helipads and picked a branch. I settled next to her and leaned back against the trunk.
She reclined on the branch and put her head in my lap, then said, "I went deer hunting with my first husband once. Only once. It was hours of staring at the trees and total silence except when he shushed me."
"Shhhh. You'll scare the VC."
Anna snickered and lightly bit my thigh through my pants. That led to some play that continued until we heard a helicopter approaching. Looking at the ground around the tree, we saw nothing. Anna lifted from the branch and hovered in lazy circles and I did the same.
We'd become separated by perhaps fifty yards when Anna's aura suddenly darted downward. As I moved to join her, she rose back into view with her prey limply dangling from her grip on his wrist.
A motion below and to my left, somewhat deeper into the bush, caught my attention and I dropped quickly to check it out. A guy in black PJ's had frozen halfway out of a hole to gapingly stare as the other guy floated upward like a human balloon. His amazement didn't last long; I slugged him unconscious and lifted him to join his friend.
Anna had draped her kill over a branch and unghosted. I did the same with my VC and also unghosted.
"You didn't kill yours," said Anna.
I snapped the VC's neck and said, "Just hadn't got around to it. Ma'am, it has occurred to me that too many stabbings and broken necks this close to the fence would start to look real funny to both sides real fast. I suggest that we drop these guys near the village. Maybe in the bushes along the access road about halfway to the base."
Anna shrugged as she poked a hole in her kill, held her cup in the gushing stream, and said, "Okay. Sure. We'll dump them along the road. Now tell me how things won't seem just as funny if we do that."
Filling my own cup, I said, "Well, they will, really, but the victims won't be found in their holes or near them. The town has a whorehouse, a couple of bars, and like that. We can make it look as if they were nailed while they weren't where they should have been."
Rolling her VC over to contain matters, Anna broke off a small branch and used it to plug the hole in his chest, then said, "Speculate. How will the VC react to a few kills a week? Will they start sending guards with the watchers? For that matter, how will the Army react when bodies begin piling up?"
"They'll probably jack up security, start CQ checks, and set curfews. That's what they always do about extra VC activity in an area. I'm not quite sure how the VC would react. They might even get the idea that 3rd Surge is more than a medevac hospital and that it deserves more attention."
We sipped our drinks for a few moments before she asked, "How would you feel about another transfer? Back to the bush, where we could meet and hunt and not worry about being seen together too much."
"Depends, I guess. It's taken me two whole days, but I think I'm finally getting used to air conditioning."
Anna laughed and tipped her cup at me.
"Congratulations. I was worried about that. Got any ideas other than coming to work in my office?"
I shook my head. "Nope. That's the only place where we'd be guaranteed that I'd be on your shift at all times and it would explain our being together a lot, but that doesn't address the matter of frequent local kills and how the VC will react."
She sighed and said, "No, it doesn't, does it? I don't think I have a good answer for that question."
"There may also be another factor to consider, milady. Superstition. Commies or not, most VC are yokels. They believe in ghosts and demons and all kinds of silly shit that goes bump in the night."
"You want to make it look as if a ghost or a demon did it?"
I pointed at the VC I'd brought up to the branch and said, "You should have seen the look on this guy's face when you hauled his buddy into the air. We need something that won't make the VC suspect the locals or start shelling the hospital. Suppose the area began reporting supernatural incidents? Suppose some of the incidents happened on base, too? How long would it take the ghost stories to start?"
"Jesus," muttered Anna. "Ed, I'm really pretty sure I mentioned that we make a real effort to avoid being noticed. Were you so busy staring at my legs that you didn't hear me?"
Feigning shock, dismay, and insult, I said, "Oh, that's unfair, lady. You sat on the edge of your desk and forced me to notice your gorgeous legs, but I heard every word you said."
"Forced you?"
"Yeah, forced me. You stuck 'em where I could see 'em, didn't you? You knew I couldn't help looking."
Sipping from my cup, I said, "People think vampires have retractable fangs and only feed at night and all the other crap fed to them in movies and books, Anna. We're supposed to have problems with crosses, daylight, wooden stakes, crossing water, and all that other drivel. If people can't see what's pushing and pulling at them or hauling them into the air -- and if it happens in broad daylight as well as in darkness -- they'll blame ghosts or something else, but not vampires."
"Jesus," she said softly again, and tossed down the rest of her drink. "I've spent the last eighty years campaigning against theatrics, Ed."
I refilled our cups and said, "You were campaigning against vampire theatrics, not ghost theatrics."
Anna shook her head. "No, I've been campaigning against all theatrics. There's no guarantee that anyone will automatically blame ghosts, Ed. I need to think about this."
Shifting her butt to a new position, she agitatedly said, "Let's get off this damned branch. Let's figure out where to dump these guys and go back inside."
Chapter Thirty-three
We finished our drinks and flew the two VC to the access road, then dumped them together a few feet from the road about halfway from the town. Near the ops building, I peeled away from Anna and headed for the ops office doors.
Anna beelined toward the observation deck, as usual, and didn't seem to notice that I wasn't flying with her until her sense of my presence started to fade with distance.
The ops CQ was at his desk, talking to another guy, when -- instead of using the entrance at the end of a ward -- I pushed one of the swinging glass doors to the helipad open and held it open for Anna.
She hovered above the deck for a moment, staring at me, then arced back toward me as the CQ got to his feet with a confused expression and approached the door. Anna zipped in past us and hovered to one side of the doorway as I resisted the CQ's efforts to close the door.
He swore softly and put his shoulder to the door. I stepped away and the door swung all the way open to the outside, which caused the CQ to fall flat and tumble.
As he was getting to his feet, I caught his arms and lifted him ten feet off the ground, then held him there as he struggled and yelled. When I lowered him closer to the ground and let him go, his legs gave out when he landed and he collapsed in a heap, staring around and above himself.
Getting up, he very cautiously approached the door and shoved it with a fingertip. It swung open freely. He tested it again and looked through it at the other guy, who was now on his feet, but apparently unwilling to come near the door.
The CQ squared his shoulders, put a hand on the door, and opened it as he stepped through. As soon as he was inside the office, he stepped quickly away from the door and examined it for some moments.
"Roundell," he said, "You saw that, right? What happened just now?"
Roundell said, "Not if you're gonna tell anyone else about it."
"But you saw it, didn't you?"
"I don't know what I saw, Perlman. That's all I'm gonna say and now I'm gettin' the hell out of here."
I reached for a folding chair and lifted it into the air, then snapped it shut and let it fall to the floor. Roundell's eyes got big and he backed toward the wing's corridor. Perlman stepped back two paces and stared at the chair, then looked wildly around the room.
Heading for the corridor, I pushed Roundell out of the way. He shrieked and backed up a lot faster, then yelped again as Anna brushed past him. When I shoved a trash can six feet toward the mess hall, he made an inarticulate sound and frantically waved for Perlman to come to the doorway.
Roundell hissed, "We got fuckin' ghosts, man!"
As soon as Perlman peeked around the door frame, I shoved the trash can back where it had been and made a soft "Haaahhhh!" sound. Both of the guys ducked back inside the office and the ops office door slammed shut.
"See?" I whispered to Anna. "Roundell said we're ghosts."
Without comment, Anna pulled my arm to get me moving and headed us toward the BOQ. Once we were in her room and unghosted, she went to the little fridge in the corner as she said, "Have a seat," then pulled out two bottles of beer.
As she opened the beers, Anna said, "Okay, so we'll be ghosts now and then." Leaning on the fridge thoughtfully, she added, "I think we ought to keep our future ghostly antics well away from where we live or work, though, if only on general principles."
"Yes, ma'am. Of course, ma'am. As you say, ma'am."
At her sharp glance, I grinningly explained, "I'm just being very polite and agreeable until I can get my hands on that beer, Major Corinth, ma'am."
"Uh, huh. You almost had to catch it, GI."
She brought the beers and sat beside me on the bed, then said, "This 'ghost' plan bugs the hell out of me."
After a sip of beer, I asked, "Reason?"
Sipping her own beer, she said, "We're talking about the kind of grade school tricks that I didn't enjoy even when I was in grade school."
"So use high school tricks. College tricks. How would we categorize lifting a bird colonel into the air? As a graduate or a post-graduate trick?"
Anna peered hard at me and asked, "You mean Bender? Oh, lordy. A captain, maybe, but a colonel?"
Chuckling at her expression, I said, "Milady, you may have a point, and this is really about impressing Charlie, anyway. We'd only be messing with base people to make it seem that we weren't discriminating. Charlie's intel system would get word that nobody is immune. Now, why would ghosts or demons begin appearing in this area all of a sudden?"
Taking another sip of beer, Anna said, "I haven't the slightest idea. Maybe something disturbed them. That's how it usually is in the movies."
"Good enough. What's happened lately that would have pissed off a bunch of spooks enough to make them run around causing trouble?"
"Still no idea," she said. "Maybe something happened in a local cemetery?"
"Good enough again, ma'am. We can dump some of the bodies in and around local cemeteries and let the locals come up with their own guesses. Demons or upset ancestor ghosts or anything like that."
Anna sipped her beer again, then set the bottle down and headed for the bathroom, unbuttoning her blouse on the way. I heard the shower start and I started undressing as Anna reappeared in the doorway.
She tossed her bra and blouse on the desk and started skinning out of her jeans as she said, "We'll talk more about ghosts later. What's on your agenda for tomorrow?"
I let my eyes travel her exposed skin as I said, "Not much. I'm the new guy, so I have weekend CQ in the afternoon. Beats the hell out of me why they think it's such a big deal. It isn't as if any of them have anywhere to go or anything to do on a weekend, and if a call comes in, they'll all be there to fly it."
"It's the illusion of a day off, and it's the same with officers. The new guy automatically gets a few weekend or night Duty Officer shifts." Following my gaze at her shoulder, she added, "What are you staring at?"
Grinning, I said, "You, milady major. Your shoulders, your face, the way you're so well constructed. All that. I'm watching you undress and thinking lascivious thoughts."
Nodding, she tossed her socks on a chair and said, "As you should be. Take a last hit of that beer, then let's get wet."
When Anna tossed me out around one, I headed to the mess hall. It was empty, so I unghosted near the coffee pot. The hospital duty officer came in and asked what unit I was with, then made a note on his clipboard as I tapped another cup of coffee for him.
We talked for a few minutes about the war and the world, then he left and I headed to the barracks. As I passed the ops desk, the CQ -- Corporal Hanks -- asked me with a trace of attitude where I'd been.
"Out. I ran into the duty officer in the mess hall and we talked for a while. Don't worry, Hanks. I was always where I could hear a chopper fire up."
As I was about to continue to my bunk, he said, "A couple of guys were looking for you. Vortmann and Richter."
"Thanks. I'll get with them tomorrow."
Again I started to leave, but he said, "Some of the guys are saying that you think you're too good to hang out with the enlisteds. Is that true?"
I turned back to face him and asked, "Is that what you think?"
"Hell, I don't know. I've only met you twice. I was just repeating what I've been hearing."
"Uh, huh. Well, they don't know me yet, either, Hanks."
He leaned his arms on his desk and fiddled with an inkpen as he said, "They also said that you seem to get along pretty well with those two nurses. And Wilson and Bender."
"Hanks, I've known those nurses for months. Wilson is my bird's pilot. Bender's been calling me into his office, but that's likely to stop now that the shooting match is over. Beyond all that, who I hang with when I'm off duty is my business."
He continued to fiddle with the pen and shrugged as his eyes fell to the desk. I snatched the pen from his fingers and slapped it flat on the blotter.
When he looked up at me, I said, "I damned sure won't be hanging with someone who can't even look at me when he talks to me, but I might be able to find him some extra work around here if he can't mind his own damned business."
As I entered the barracks portion of the wing, Samuels sat up on his bunk and quietly said, "Hanks is right. Some of the guys have noticed that all of your friends seem to be officers."
Stopping by his bunk, I said, "That's only because they are. For the moment, anyway. I had enlisted friends at my old unit, Samuels. You met two of them today."
"Yeah, I did. We talked about you, too. Nelson told me how you used to go off on your own a lot at night and the file says that Drake cut you loose under 'commander's discretion'."
With a chuckle, I said, "Yeah. Drake thought it would look bad if I got tagged. He didn't want to have to explain how one of his people happened to be operating outside alone."
"Nelson said you brought rifles and stuff back just about every time you went out. He called it your hobby."
"Close enough."
"Kind of an odd hobby, wasn't it?"
"Not to me. Nobody else out there thought so, either."
Samuels regarded me for a moment, then said, "I heard Bender ask Drake why he let you go. Drake kind of got all formal-like and said that you did your job well, but that you'd had some kind of a personal dispute with an LT. That true? What was it about?"
"What did Drake say about it?"
Shrugging, Samuels said, "He didn't. He changed the subject."
Nodding, I said, "Good enough. That's what I'll do, too. It's getting late, Samuels. Goodnight."
As I walked away, Samuels didn't say anything else.
Two guys squabbling loudly over a magazine woke me around seven Sunday morning. I got out of my bunk and went to stand next to them for a moment as they bickered, then I grabbed the magazine and took it to the front desk.
Tossing the magazine in the trash can, I squeezed the top of the can shut and folded the top two inches or so over to seal it with a crimp.
The two guys and the CQ stared at the can, then the CQ said, "Uh... That can was government property."
"It still is," I said as I turned to go back to my bunk. "Try not to make any trash until those dickheads get the can open."
Pulling rank over small stuff creates hard feelings that manifest themselves as petty retributions, but a simple and quiet display of strength and attitude will often thoroughly defuse matters.
I tried to get back to sleep and failed, so I cleaned up and got dressed to see about some breakfast. As I passed the CQ desk, the guys stopped prying at the can's closure with a screwdriver to watch me go by.
At the duty phone in the mess hall I tried calling Anna's room, but she didn't answer. I tried her office as well, to no avail, so I loaded a tray and read my book as I ate.
When Samuels entered the mess hall, got a coffee, then headed for my table, I put my book down, kicked the chair across from me out a bit as an invitation, and pointed at it.
As he sat down, he said, "Peters and Watson managed to get the can open. What was that all about, anyway?"
"They woke me up with their bickering over a skin mag. Think they'll do it again anytime soon?"
"Not likely. On the other hand, you may have to pay for the can."
"A few bucks. No biggie. Now everybody will know how I feel about being wakened unnecessarily, so I don't mind."
Samuels sipped coffee for a few moments, then said, "Yeah, I guess they will. You play football? We'll be getting a game up later today."
Shaking my head, I said, "Nope. Never had any interest. Same with basketball and baseball."
"Team sports are a good way of letting everybody get to know each other."
"So's working together."
I'd finished my eggs and bacon before he spoke again.
"Are you gonna mind if I ask you a personal question?" he asked.
"I may not answer it, but go ahead."
He put on a thoughtful face and stared into his coffee for a few seconds, then looked up and asked, "You've killed people, right? I mean, you didn't just find the stuff you brought back out there, so..."
As he seemed to search for words, I asked, "So... what?"
Futzing with his coffee cup, he said, "Just wondered."
"Be more specific, Samuels. Wondered what?"
After turning his cup around, then turning it back, he said, "Well, you're a medic. That's your MOS, anyway. Most medics I've known didn't join the Army to kill people."
"I didn't either. I joined the Army to avoid the draft, and it can be damned hard to get an MOS changed. Let's get down to it, here. Where are you going with this? Some kind of personal judgment about me?"
Raising his hands in a protesting manner, he said, "Well, no. Not really."
"Then what's this about?"
He sighed and shrugged, then said, "Oh, hell, I'm just trying to get a handle on you, that's all. As senior NCO, I'll have to put in evaluations and recommendations and all that. You know how it is."
"Yeah. I do. Watch my work, Samuels. That's all that really matters."
"Well, no, it isn't. How well you get along with the other guys and..."
"I mostly prefer my own company, Samuels. Some people don't like that because they don't understand it. Others only care about getting the job done and they don't worry about pretending that we're all one big happy family. That's the way I'd prefer things."
Sitting back in his chair and meeting my gaze, Samuels asked, "So you don't care what the other guys think of you?"
"Off the job? No, I don't. Change the subject."
He didn't take that well. Stiffening in his chair, he set his cup down with unnecessary firmness and leaned across the table.
I shoved my tray to one side on general principles as he pointed a finger at my face and snapped, "I've got a rocker under my stripes, so you don't give me orders! You come to my unit from some field outfit with a .45 and a goddamned attitude and you think you're some kind of hot shit, but let me fill you in..."
Grabbing his finger and twisting it backward hard, I released it and let him pull his hand back before I said, "No, Samuels. It isn't about thinking I'm hot shit. It's about wanting to be left alone, and when it comes to my off duty time, you don't tell me a damned thing. If I get the idea you're grading me on anything but job performance, we'll settle things the hard way. I'm not planning on an Army career, so it won't matter a fat damn to me if there's a little trouble on my record."
He glaringly glanced at my sleeve and said, "But... Three stripes in less than two years...?"
"Is that it? You think I'm after your job? Hell, no. I got E-2 in Basic 'cause I did well on the range, E-3 during AIT, and Spec.4 a couple of months later when I began working with secure records. I would have been happy as a Stateside Spec.4, but I received orders for Nam. Buck sergeant stripes came with the orders."
Samuels continued glaring at me, but in a more studious manner, as if trying to determine the truth of my words.
I picked up my cup and added it to my tray, then said, "I'm not after your damned job, Samuels. I don't want the hassles of being in charge of anything here. I'm just killing a few months before DROS in a medevac unit."
With that, I stood up and left the table, dumped my tray, and went to a phone to try Anna's room and office again. Still no answer. In a bit of a mood, I decided to head to town and start some ghost stories.
Chapter Thirty-four
In ghost mode at a cemetery on the far side of town from the base, I lifted objects and moved some of them from place to place in full view of perhaps a dozen people. When a young woman freaked out and ran, I flew to catch her, lifted her thirty feet or so, and returned her to her group, where she fainted.
Proceeding back toward town, I lifted a number of other people to varying heights and set them back on the ground or on rooftops. When I found two American MP's talking with their Viet counterparts outside the town's police station, I lifted one of the Viets, carried him maybe ten feet and set him down, then went back to lift one of the MP's and deposit him on the hood of their issue-green Chevy sedan.
The commotion in the street drew other Viet cops and an MP captain out of the building. I moved among them, shoving some and briefly lifting others, then lifted the MP captain and put him on the roof of the Chevy, too.
A little girl of about eight seemed vastly entertained by my antics. I scooped her up and carried her around what passed for a village square twice at a height of about ten feet, then set her down where I'd picked her up. She stood laughing and clapping as her screaming mother ran over from a nearby vegetable stand.
One of the MP's had his .45 out, but the captain jumped down off the car and sharply told him to holster his weapon until he had a valid target. A couple of the Viets stood at the ready with M-16's, but their CO also rather imperiously told them to stand down and then sent one of them to the temple at the end of the street.
I flew to lift and carry the runner to the temple, depositing him on the steps. His knees gave out, but he reached to pummel on the door with his rifle butt and gabbled in Vietnamese at the priest who appeared.
The priest listened, looked around, then said something to the Viet cop and started down the steps. I lifted the priest and carried him the two hundred yards or so to the police station.
He struggled a little at first, then relaxed and said something. When I didn't answer, he said it again, then remained silent for the rest of the short trip into town.
When I set him down in front of the cops, the priest did his best to look as if he'd just stepped out of a taxi. Mr. Cool. Smiling, he turned to say something to me and bow slightly as if he could see me, then turned back to the cops.
Opening the driver's side door of the Chevy, I blew the horn, then slammed the car door and went back to the laughing little girl and picked her up again, flying her fifty feet up to circle the village and return.
Those people who hadn't fled the area seemed fairly well stunned. The priest raised his arms and said something that went on for a good two minutes straight, so I figured it was some sort of prayer.
Flying to the cemetery, I scooped up a double handful of the dirt there and returned to offer the dirt to the priest. He held his hands out and I let the dirt flow into his hands, then I headed back toward the base feeling as if I'd set the stage well enough. Let them try to figure out what the dirt was about.
Entering the hospital through the ER doors, I took the opportunity to lift one of the nurses who was heading toward the desk and carried her the additional twenty feet or so as she shrieked her terror.
A doctor who'd been sitting by a desk had stood up. I shoved him back into his chair and handed him his coffee mug, then went to open and shut several doors along the corridor.
Opportunities existed everywhere for mischief, but I wasn't interested in committing petty vandalisms. I wanted people to feel the presence of the 'ghost', not just witness it.
1st Lt. Mendez came out of an office to see what was going on. I slipped my forearms under her arms to lift and carry her to the front desk. She put up a bit of a struggle at first, then simply dangled stiffly from my grip all the way up the hall.
A number of others received a similar treatment until I reached the mess hall, where I carried another nurse from the door to the serving line and spun her around once before releasing her. She screeched as her feet left the floor and kicked a bit in flight, and when I let her go she latched onto one of the big stainless steel counters with both hands.
Across the corridor I stepped behind a fire door and unghosted, then headed to the medevac barracks, where I took my book out of my locker and went to the observation deck to read until lunch.
As Samuels had said, a touch football game was underway on the helipad. When a punt went astray and wound up on the roof, I opened the door and whistled to let them know not to bother sending anyone after it, then left the air conditioned ob deck to go out and return the ball.
Samuels pointed at one of the guys with his hands up and I tossed that guy the ball, then went back inside. A few minutes later Samuels came up to the deck and sat down.
"What happened to the game? Did the VC do something?"
"No, not the VC. Something weird happened in the ER. And in the mess hall."
"Anybody hurt?"
He shook his head. "Not that I know of. Not so far, anyway."
"What happened?"
As if embarrassed to say the words, he sighed and said, "People are saying we got ghosts. Burlington said one of his MP friends said something happened down the hill, too. In town."
I snickered. "We got ghosts, huh? Cool."
Rather defensively, he said, "I'm just repeating what I heard. From an LT nurse who was there. People saw her float down the hallway in the ER."
Laughing, I said, "Okay, okay. I guess that's good enough."
"What the hell do you mean, 'good enough'?"
"I just mean that explanation -- ghosts -- will do as well as any other. How do you think they'll write it up? Will they write it up at all, or just tell everybody to shut up about anything else that happens? Would you want to be the poor schmuck who submitted a report about ghosts to the US Army?"
A presence approached up the stairwell as I spoke.
I turned to look and saw a white-gold aura, then turned back to Samuels and asked, "If there are ghosts and they're operating in the daytime, they could be anywhere, anytime, couldn't they? They could be in this very room right now, right?"
He glanced around briefly, then shrugged and nodded.
"Yeah, I guess they could."
Holding up my book, I said, "Hey, ghosts. Do you read science fiction?"
The book was plucked from my hand as the faint scent of Anna's perfume wafted around me. Samuels' eyes got big as the book hovered above my chair for some moments. It turned over once as Anna examined the covers, then it fell a foot or so to land in my lap.
"Well," I said, checking my page marker, "Guess not. But then, Vietnamese ghosts probably couldn't read English anyway, could they?"
Frozen in his chair, Samuels stared at the book in my hands, then his eyes met mine and he hissed at me, "Are you fucking nuts?!"
Shrugging, I said, "Well, I don't think so, but that's only my opinion, of course. If they wanted to hurt us, we'd be hurting, right? Has anybody been hurt?"
Samuels began to ease out of his chair. "Uh... I... uh... don't know. I don't think so."
A folding chair rather noisily opened by the table near the window as I said, "Well, find out. Could be they're just messing with us for some reason."
The folding chair began sliding slowly around the table. Staring at the chair and rising to his feet, Samuels edged toward the stairwell.
I put my book on the table as Samuels asked in a harsh whisper, "Are you just going to sit there?!"
Nodding, I said, "Yup. Sure am. If ghosts can be up here, they could just as easily be anywhere else in the building, right? No point in leaving."
He said nothing else as he watched the chair circle the table. Backing slowly toward the stairwell, he felt behind himself for the doorway. When he found it, he groped for the handrail and began easing down the stairs backward, his eyes still on the chair.
When I heard Samuels open the bottom door and close it, I peeked to see that he was really gone, then whispered, "If you plan to stay up here, you may want to go back down and come back up as Major Corinth."
"I'd rather run into you at the mess hall in half an hour or so," whispered Anna. "I thought we might discuss your morning adventures."
"I'll be there, milady. Am I in trouble?"
"No, but I think we need to make a plan of some sort and use a bit of caution. See you in the mess hall."
"Okay."
Anna flew down the stairs and opened the bottom door. I heard a couple of yelps and wondered what she'd done to cause them. Beeker and Hollis, another new guy to the outfit, came upstairs, glanced around once rather nervously, then Beeker asked if I'd seen anything unusual.
I couldn't help it; I asked, "Unusual? In what way, Beeker?"
Meeting my gaze for a moment, Beeker shook his head and headed back downstairs. Hollis took another look around, then followed him. I finished the chapter I was reading and went downstairs, as well.
Samuels, Beeker, Hollis, and someone else were in a noisy huddle by the door to the helipad. I waved my book at them in passing and the noise stopped. They stared at me as I got a drink at the water fountain, then I headed for my locker to shelve my book.
I saw Bender on the way to the mess hall. He was heading toward the medevac office at a march step and only nodded in passing. Had someone called him, or had he otherwise heard that something was going on in his ops office? Did it matter? Deciding it didn't, I continued on.
Anna was sitting at a table with two men when I arrived. She waved me over, introduced me as an old friend of Captain Hartley to Captains Lewis and Burns of ward four and then invited me to come sit with them.
I glanced at Lewis and Burns and they seemed to have no objections, so I loaded a tray and took a seat on Anna's right.
Burns asked me, "You heard about what happened in the ER?"
"Something about a nurse flying in the hall?"
"Taylor -- that is, Captain Taylor -- says he saw it happen."
I looked at Anna and innocently asked, "Would that necessarily mean that it's true, Major?"
She snickered and said, "He's pretty level-headed and he wasn't the only one who saw it happen."
Nodding, I said, "Well, that's great, then. Now that nurses can fly, they won't have sore feet."
Anna and Lewis chuckled. Burns didn't.
"They're taking this report and others like it seriously," he said.
"Who is 'they'? The Army or just the ER staff?"
Burns said rather stiffly, "I would presume both, Sergeant."
Shaking my head, I said, "Well, I wouldn't, Cap. People as high as colonels have reported UFO's, and look how they've been treated. The militaries don't really approve of reports about paranormal stuff. They don't take them seriously."
Lewis said, "You don't seem to be taking the matter too seriously, either. I'm curious to know why."
Glancing at both officers, I asked, "Why should I, Cap? Would Army-issue bug repellent -- stuff that doesn't even seem to work on most bugs -- work on ghosts?"
Laughing, Lewis said, "Yeah, I see what you mean. You think ghosts are causing these things to happen?"
After a moment of thought, I said, "That's what people are saying. What else would they be, Cap? Of course, the locals and some of the guys from the hills of West Virginia or Alabama may automatically figure that some of satan's demons are running loose, but I haven't heard of anyone being hurt yet. Have you?"
"No," he said with a glance at Anna. "Actually, I haven't."
I dug into my food and conversation mostly happened around me for a while, then Bender came in and joined us. Lewis asked what he thought of the morning's supernatural events, and Bender rather flatly said that he hadn't given the matter much thought.
When Lewis looked at his watch and said, "Well, back to work for us," and stood up, Burns joined him and they said their goodbyes.
Bender scooted his chair and his tray until he sat directly across from Anna, then sipped his coffee for a moment before he looked at me and said, "Samuels said something happened on the ob-deck a little while ago."
"He thinks he saw something happen up there, Colonel."
"Were you there at the time?"
"Yes, sir."
"Did you see anything unusual?"
Shrugging, I said, "Officially? No, sir."
After peering at me for a moment, he said, "I see."
He forked up some corn and continued eating for a few bites, then said, "I pushed Samuels to tell me what was bothering him about the ob-deck, Sergeant. In my office, in private, he finally told me what he saw."
I gave Bender my best look of absolute innocence. His expressionless gaze didn't change a whit. I sipped my Coke and waited to see if he'd push me, too. He did.
"Well, Sergeant? Did you see what Samuels saw?"
Without taking my eyes off his, I quietly said, "I guess I'd have to know what Samuels told you he saw before I could answer that, Colonel."
Bender put his fork down and knitted his hands together above his tray, then said, "Sergeant, let's cut the games. Tell me what you saw."
With a sidelong glance at Anna, I asked, "Permission to speak freely, sir? And completely off the record?"
He also glanced at Anna, then said, "Okay. Off the record. For the moment, anyway."
Nodding, I said, "In that case, I saw my book hang above me for a few seconds and a chair slid around the table."
"That's what Samuels said. But you didn't leave when he did. Why?"
"Because whatever did those things could be anywhere. Leaving the ob deck didn't seem worthwhile."
Regarding me thoughtfully for a moment, he then asked, "What did you do after Samuels left?"
"I finished the chapter I was reading, then I put my book in my locker and came to the mess hall."
Perhaps a full three seconds passed before he said, "I see," again.
Anna chuckled and said, "Colonel, if ghosts can visit the ER and the observation deck, where can't they go? That he didn't bother to run makes sense enough to me."
Fixing Anna with the same flat gaze he'd turned on me, Bender said, "You know, that really doesn't surprise me at all, Major. In fact, from what little I've seen of you, I'm pretty sure you would have reacted about the same way."
After another sip of his coffee, he asked Anna, "Will you be needing the Sergeant this coming week?"
Anna looked at me and asked, "How far did you get with the routings?"
"There are only about fifty to go, Major. If we can find everybody for signatures, we can clear the pile by Tuesday or Wednesday, I think. If some of them have to be mailed out, brigade can handle that and follow up on them later."
She looked at Bender and asked, "Can you spare him that long?"
Bender looked up from cutting his last bit of meat and glanced at each of us, then said, "I can spare him as long as you need him, Major. Just make sure he's where we can find him fast when things get busy."
Nodding, she said, "No problem, Colonel. Thank you."
Chapter Thirty-five
Not long after Bender left us, Anna stood up and said, "See you this evening, Ed. Make it about seven, okay? We're going to visit the village just before dark."
Standing up to see her off properly, I said, "Seven it is, milady."
After lunch I grabbed some cookies and went to ICU to see Hardesty, who told me that he'd be moving to a ward either Monday or Tuesday. I congratulated him on having survived ICU and we visited a while, then -- as usual -- one of the nurses told me it was time to leave.
With six hours to kill, I considered my options; try to nap or read in the barracks or go to ghost mode and make some things to do.
Option two seemed the most likely to achieve success, but I didn't want my virus screaming at me for replenishment before I went to meet Anna. Then I remembered what she'd told me after she'd stabbed me to stir my virus into emergency activation.
'If you get hungry while you're here, see Lt. Brooks at the blood bank. She keeps some of the unusable blood on hand for our purposes.'
Good enough. Since she was someone I ought to know anyway, I'd go see if Brooks was on duty, even though it was Sunday. If she wasn't there, I'd just save my energy for later.
I was somewhat surprised to find close to twenty guys sitting in the blood bank lobby. The clerk, a Spec.5 Watkins, greeted me with a smile, a handshake, and a clipboard.
"Thanks for coming in!" he said enthusiastically, "You're new here because I know all the regulars. What's your blood type?"
"Sorry," I said. "I just dropped by to see if LT Brooks is around."
Immediately adopting a more cautious attitude, he asked, "Would this be a social call, or did someone send you?"
"Some of each, Watkins. I was told to look her up."
He froze in place. His grin turned mask-like and hollow and he stared at me for a moment before muttering, "Oh, lordy..."
After another moment of apparent confusion, he seemed to decide to leave matters to the fates and said, "Uh, you just wait right there while I tell her you're here."
I began to have second thoughts about the visit as he went to the back office. He knocked, stuck his head in, then straightened and gestured me to approach.
As I neared the office I felt Brooks' presence as strongly as I'd ever felt Anna's or Marian's, which in conjunction with Watkins' attitude only added to my new-found trepidation about the visit.
A very young-looking brunette woman with a single silver bar on her collar stood up behind her desk as Watkins whispered, "Good luck," and closed the door behind me.
Brooks said nothing as I approached her desk. I decided to play things absolutely safe and saluted as I stopped.
"Lt. Brooks, Major Corinth told me to see you about unusable blood."
After a moment, she returned my salute, but didn't immediately invite me to stand at ease or sit down, so I remained at attention, as required by military protocol.
"No doubt she did," she said. "Why didn't you tell Watkins who sent you to me?"
"He didn't ask, Lieutenant."
"I'll straighten him out about that. At ease, Sergeant. Until I felt you coming, I thought you were... never mind. How long have you been here?"
'Thought I was what?' I wondered. "Only a few days, ma'am."
"You couldn't have come by on a weekday?"
"There was no need during the week, ma'am, and I was advised not to bother you without good reason."
"Were you told why?"
"No, I wasn't. I just figured you'd be busy, and judging by the waiting room crowd on a Sunday afternoon..."
She gave me a tight little smile and interrupted, "Those guys are regulars, after a fashion. Most of them are here to avoid punishment duties. They'd rather part with a pint than clean toilets."
After another couple of moments of examining me, she indicated a sofa chair by her desk, then sat down and said, "Let's talk."
Eyeing the coffee mug on her desk, I asked, "I saw a coffee pot in the hallway. Are you ready for a refill?"
Brooks glanced at it and said, "No, but you can get one if you want."
Shaking my head, I said, "Won't make the trip for just one cup," as I sat down.
Another few moments of eyeing each other ensued, and I wondered why her personality was so guarded as I noted a few things about her. Judging by her arms and neck, she was far too slender for my taste.
She'd seemed about five-two or three tall and had one of those darkish complexions, like someone whose people came from a Mediterranean region. While her eyes had a piercing quality, the rest of her looked like a skinny, late-blooming teenager in a nurse's uniform.
"Why are you staring at me?" she asked.
"Not staring; studying. Because you've been studying me like a cat studies a bird," I said, "Or maybe like a cat studies another cat. I'm not sure which, LT, but I've been trying to figure out why, since I only came here to meet you and see if you had a baggie to spare today."
"Your aura's in good shape. Mind if I ask why you think you need a baggie?"
"I want to spend the afternoon in aural form and I'm meeting Major Corinth this evening. I didn't want to be running on empty then."
Nodding, she leaned back in her chair and asked, "You were the ghost in the ER this morning, I take it?"
I returned her nod.
"What was all that about?" she asked.
"I'm in medevac, so I have to stay close to base. If we hunt near the base, I don't want the VC thinking the locals are responsible. I also don't want the VC thinking the Americans did it and mortaring the hospital in retaliation. Anna..."
"Anna?" Brooks interrupted me with a raised eyebrow, then her gaze narrowed for a moment before she asked, "And 'you don't want..?' Sergeant, you make it sound as if the ghost idea was yours alone."
"Uhm. Well, we were sitting in a tree talking and I barfed up the idea of letting ghosts and demons take the blame for our dead VC. The VC may be hard-core Commies, but down deep most of them are just farm boys who grew up thinking their ancestors would come back to haunt them if they got out of line. I figure that if we do this right, they'll all start saying their prayers again. For that matter, so might some of our guys."
Brooks sat gazing at me for some moments before I noticed that her lips had formed a tiny smile again.
She asked, "Do you really think that pretending to be ghosts would work?"
"You heard about the ER incident. Did you hear about what happened in town, too?"
Chuckling softly, she said, "Oh, yes. During lunch."
Nodding, I said, "And you likely had that lunch with other officers. College-educated people. Did some of them seem inclined to believe that ghosts had diddled the ER staff?"
Drumming her index fingernail on her desk, she said, "Two of them were eyewitnesses. One actually used the word 'ghost'. The other only related what she'd seen and avoided trying to explain it."
With a shrug, I asked, "Well? What do you think? Will it work?"
Sitting up, then standing up, she said, "Maybe it will. Come with me."
Leading me out of her office and down the hallway, she opened a door and gestured me inside a room with a large refrigerator. She opened the refrigerator and looked at rows of baggies on a tray, then picked one and peeled the label off.
Handing the bag to me, she peeled the label off one from a tray that had baggies piled instead of in neat rows, then stuck the label from mine on that one.
"Your bag hasn't been tested yet," she said as she mixed the contents, "But its aura indicates that the man has malaria, so we can't use it. The bags on the other tray are about to go out of date, so I chose one with the same blood type and swapped labels to keep the inventory straight."
Closing the fridge door, she went to lean against the entrance door as she said, "Guzzle that, then give me the bag."
I did so and she tore the corner of the bag slightly before tossing it in a bin marked 'hazardous waste'.
We heard footsteps in the hall and as the door opened, Brooks said, "...And that's about it, Sergeant. I appreciate the thought, but the only volunteers we really need between emergencies are donors, and when there's an emergency, you medevac guys are likely to be working, too."
Watkins came in with a nod to each of us and added three bags to the rows on the tray in the fridge, shuffling them to make room.
I shrugged and said, "Well, like you said, ma'am, it was a thought. Thanks for everything. Mind if I check back with you now and then, just in case? It wouldn't hurt me to know this end of things."
"No problem. If we can find the time and you want to learn, we'll see if we can teach you a little about hematology before you leave."
Plainly very surprised, Watkins glanced up from the tray as I held the door for Brooks and followed her out.
By her office door, I quietly asked, "Did you mean that? About cross-training me in hematology?"
"Do you want to learn?"
"I can't stay an Army medic forever, ma'am. Sure."
"Then I meant it. If you do well, we can get you certified for the lab. Now let me get back to work."
"Will do. Thanks, LT. I'll find or make some time after I'm settled in."
As I headed up the hall to the lobby, I saw her reflection in the glass doors of a wall cabinet. She was slightly smiling, and I thought, 'Huh. Where's the dragon lady I'd been led to expect?'
One of the nurses supervising a couple of techs was surprised enough that she stopped what she was doing and glanced questioningly at Brooks before watching me walk by on my way to the corridor.
It seemed likely that Watkins and the nurse had thought someone had sent me to Brooks as a joke, and they'd obviously expected her to bite my head off. That led me to wonder briefly about Brooks' preferences, but only as a matter of mild curiosity.
Any single woman who doesn't date or conform to the majority of herd standards -- in or out of uniform -- will be considered somewhat strange by herd members, and the jerks in those herds will use her to play jokes on the new members.
I envisioned some guy telling another guy, 'Oh, yeah! When you get over there, check out an LT named Brooks in the blood bank,' making her sound like a sure thing.
I could also envision that victim backing away from an enraged Brooks, whining, 'But whosis said..!'
Hmm. Or maybe there was some other reason entirely for Watkins' trepidation. Could be that Brooks had a rep as a man-hater; women can get that rep when they don't play the dating game or snap at guys who ask them out.
Or maybe she just preferred the gentler companionship of women. No biggie; I did, too.
The corridor was too busy to step behind a firedoor to ghost, but the library wasn't. I ghosted between the fiction aisles and flew back to the front of the library.
A captain entered with a small stack of books. I lifted him to within a foot of the ceiling and held him there for ten seconds or so while the dozen or so people in the library gawked, then set him down on the reception desk. While he jumped down from the desk, I left the library.
Two nurses stood talking in the intersection of corridors linking the wards with the admin section of the hospital. When I lifted the brunette LT into the air, her shriek made everybody in all directions turn to look.
After a quick flight in a circle around the other nurse, I set the LT down about where I'd found her and moved on to the double doors at the front of the building.
A major coming into the building struggled briefly when I used him to hold the door open long enough to get through it, then he stood to one side of the door, warily staring around.
Settling to earth by the fence that surrounded the hospital, I looked long and hard in both directions. The VC were intrepid and incredibly patient, but it seemed to me that someone posted alone to do no more than watch an area for hours at a time and take notes might get careless now and then.
It occurred to me that if I were assigned to such a task, I'd try to have a believable cover story for being in the woods near the base. Gathering firewood? The Viets did most of their cooking over small fires.
Lifting and drifting closer to the village, I saw a few children and older people well into the fringes of the forest, gathering sticks into bundles. No young men or women were gathering firewood; they likely considered it too menial a task.
Perhaps an hour went by as I sat on a comfortable branch and surveyed the area between the village and the fence adjacent to the helipads. A number of fairly obvious trails led in that direction, but all of them looped back toward the village before they ranged too close to the hundred-yard-wide open zone near the fence.
Due to the likelihood of booby traps, I didn't want to follow the less-obvious trails through the bush on foot, and not all trip wires are placed close to the ground; they're often concealed with branches you'd have to cut or push aside to proceed, even if you were floating a few feet from the ground.
Instead, I chose to wait on my branch and see if any of the possible VC observers might do something to give away their positions, which one of them eventually did.
Maybe a hundred feet away, about fifty feet from the edge of the open zone, an aura began to extend from the ground as someone crawled out of a hole. I flew to hover above him.
The guy wasn't wearing black pajamas. Instead, he had on old and filthy fatigue pants and a dark blue shirt that was only a little less filthy than the pants. His sandals weren't made from an old tire, as was usual among VC and NVA. They appeared to be the kind the villagers wore, made from either leather or wood.
Maybe thirty feet from his hole he stepped behind a tree and stood very still. I didn't have to wonder what he was doing; men seem to prefer peeing on a tree or a bush rather than just letting it fly.
Leaving him to his relief, I checked out his concealed position. It was a hole about two feet by two feet and almost four feet deep, cut to provide a place to sit. The cover was a woven thatch mat on a frame of sticks that had a cluster of live vegetation on the topside, separated from the thatch by a layer of what looked like garbage bag plastic.
A rifle with a bit of rag tied over the muzzle leaned against a wall of the hole. Two ammo pouches on a web belt hung from a stick in the wall near the rifle. A canteen lay on its side on the dirt ledge seat, and a pair of US-made grenades rested on the lowest floor of the hole.
The guy stepped behind another large tree, stretched again and ran in place for some moments, then he pulled a foot-thick bundle of sticks out from under some ferns and sat down on them as he took a pack of cigarettes from a pants pocket and lit up.
Huh. Firewood gatherer takes a break. Believable? Nope. He wasn't too young, too old, or disabled. The petty ruse must have been his own idea to accommodate his nicotine habit. If noticed, he'd be arrested immediately on suspicion of being a VC at worst or a deserter at best. Whatta putz.
Because I saw no food in the hole, it seemed likely that the guy was in the last half of his shift. Chances were that his replacement would show up just after dark. I lifted to the tree tops to visually mark his location using the helipad and the village as points of reference, then headed for the helipad.
Chapter Thirty-six
I entered the ops office and flew through it to the corridor, unghosted behind a fire door when the corridor was clear of people, then reentered the ops office, got a drink at the fountain, and headed upstairs.
From the ops observation deck, the VC's aura among the trees looked about half an inch tall until he stood up. He putzed around some more, then disappeared a few minutes later. I went back downstairs.
"You weren't up there long," said Beeker from the barracks doorway.
"No ghosts," I said, heading for the corridor. "I got bored."
At the CQ desk, I phoned the MP's a report of having seen some movement from the ops deck.
"You sure?" asked the corporal behind the desk.
"Yup. Thought you might want to put someone up there with a pair of binoculars for a while."
The corporal told me to wait while he called someone, then a sergeant named Jones came on and also asked, "You sure?"
"I marked the spot. Line-of-sight through an antenna."
"Okay," he said, then he spoke to someone else to say, "Rogers. Send Mount and Resnick; they're on extra duty, anyway. We'll need binoculars and a PRC, too, and see if we have any birds incoming who could check the area."
A few minutes later, Jones, Mount, Resnick, and I trooped back to the ob deck. I positioned them where the main radio antenna was lined up on the VC's hole. Jones told them to watch that area and to call Rogers on the PRC radio if they saw any movement, then he left.
Resnick turned to me and asked, "Are you really sure there's somebody out there, Sarge?"
"I know what I saw, Resnick. Animals don't stand up and walk around."
He nodded, turned on the PRC, and said, "Four. Radio check."
"Yeah, you got a radio, four," said Corporal Rogers. "You guys are it for now. The soonest bird is the 5:15 from 12th Evac, and Jones doesn't wanna send up a bird unless you actually see something."
"Roger, Rogers," said Resnick with a small grin.
He turned off the PRC and said, "Okay, Sarge, we're on it. You gonna stick around?"
Shaking my head, I said, "Nope. Got stuff to do. Good hunting."
At the phone across from the mess hall, I called Anna's room, then tried her office as I checked my watch; 4:47. No luck at her office. On a hunch, I called the blood bank and asked if Major Corinth happened to be there. The nurse who answered the phone said she'd just left.
Going to ghost mode behind a fire door, I flew down the corridor toward the blood bank and found Anna almost halfway to her office. Seeing my aura approaching fast made her stop to look out a window.
Hovering close to her as she pretended to watch the outside world, I whispered, "I have two MP's watching a chunk of bush for movement, milady, and now I'm going out there to make sure they see something when the 5:15 chopper comes in. Care to come along?"
Anna's reflection in the glass smiled and she said, "Oh, I suppose so. Let me find someplace to change and I'll be right with you."
She ducked into a bathroom and flashed out the door a moment later to join me, then we went to medevac ops to see how Mount and Resnick were doing with their observation duty.
Mount had the binoculars. He handed them to Resnick as we exited the stairwell. Resnick adjusted them and focused on the area I'd pointed out. They seemed to be taking the matter seriously enough, so we flew back downstairs and out through the helipad entrance.
Once we were in the woods past the fence, I led Anna to the VC's spider hole, showed it to her, then lifted into a nearby tree. She followed and settled on the branch next to me.
Whispering, she asked, "We're waiting for what, exactly?"
"We're waiting for the return flight from 12th Evac to provide Chuckie a reason to poke his head out of his hole. When he does, I'll grab him and very visibly haul him to the village cemetery, then drop him there. Two MP's and whoever is on the chopper will see it happen, as well as everybody on the way into town. An instant ghost story."
Nodding, she said, "Okay. We can head back for dinner before we go hunting. Brooks told me you dropped by today."
"Thought she might. Why doesn't she hunt? She certainly seemed predatory enough to me when I showed up there."
With a chuckle, Anna said, "She won't say. She did say, however, that you asked her about cross-training. Was that for real?"
"Yup. Someday I'll be a civilian again and I want something more on my resume than 'field medic'. Brooks said she can get me certified."
The sound of a helicopter approaching made the upper part of her aura turn that direction to look as she said, "She probably can. Good for you. Be careful with her, though."
"Careful how?"
"Our Miss Brooks doesn't date for a reason, Ed. Never ask her out."
"No sweat. She doesn't have any meat on her bones, ma'am. I like 'em a little more robust, like you."
"Oh, you're just too kind, sir." In a slightly ominous tone, she added, "Unless, of course, you're implying that I'm fat."
"No, no, milady! Not fat. I promise. You only fill your skin a little better than she does. That's all. Only a little. Perfectly, in fact. Really."
"Uh, huh. In that case, thank you," she said, "Check it out. Charlie's heard the bird, too. It's showtime."
Below us, the square of vegetation that covered the VC's hole moved slightly. Some moments later, he carefully lifted it and set it to one side, then poked his head up a bit for a look around.
I was about to hop off the branch and go down there when Anna grabbed my arm and her other arm, looking like a whitish-gold tentacle, pointed down and to my left, at an approaching figure.
Even in the gloom of the forest I was able to see that the figure was a man in black pajamas with a bundle on his back. He was picking his way carefully along one of the nearly invisible trails toward the VC's hole.
Stepping behind a tree, the new guy quietly said something in Viet and the guy from the hole answered. The new guy then put his bundle into some ferns some distance from the hole, untied one end of it, and produced a rifle.
"Change of plan," I whispered. "I'll drop the new guy, instead, but not until they've had a chance to be seen."
"We're too deep in the woods," said Anna. "Those guys will never see these guys this far in."
"No problem. They'll be seen. Come on, the chopper's already here."
Swooping down, I snatched the rifle from the new guy's hands and fired the whole magazine up and well to one side of the helicopter. I then rather forcibly draped the weapon over its owner, shoving it down so that the rifle was in front of him and the sling strap was behind his back, pinning his arms to his sides.
The other guy was diving back into his hole when Anna knocked him cold and lifted him off the ground. I lifted my VC, as well, and we flew toward the edge of the forest as the gunship circled back.
As we cleared the forest, I dropped my VC long enough to damage Anna's VC's left leg by grabbing his ankle and slamming the heel of my hand into his knee, then picked up my VC again.
When I lifted to maybe twenty feet off the ground and hovered about halfway to the fence, Anna joined me in displaying our struggling VC to all who might be watching.
The helicopter's door gunner may have been amazed at seeing two floating VC, but that didn't stop him from briefly firing at us as the bird wheeled and headed toward us.
For whatever reason, he ceased fire and the chopper aimed its nose at us and headed our way. Good enough.
"Drop yours just inside the fence," I said, "We'll take this one to town."
Anna let go of her VC and he plummeted to the ground, where he pretty much just knotted up, clutching his knee. We then set off for the village, dodging among the treetops where the chopper couldn't follow too closely.
The chopper hovered above the injured VC as the standby gunship on pad two cranked up and lifted into the air. It wheeled around and dropped its nose, then hauled ass to follow us toward the village.
What had been a chase turned into a race of sorts. The gunship was overtaking us and I didn't want to have to fight the downdraft from its blades while carrying the VC, so I pushed myself a bit to stay ahead of the bird during the mile or so to town.
Grabbing one of the VC's arms, Anna added her power to mine and we managed to reach the village ahead of the bird. We stopped about a hundred feet above the town square.
Those below saw a guy in black pj's somehow hanging in mid-air with an Army gunship hovering some distance away, poised to shoot. People scattered like cockroaches to get clear of the situation.
Once the town square had mostly emptied, we flew slowly along the dirt-road main street of town toward the temple, then angled toward the nearby cemetery.
The gunship remained above us, but well to one side of things. A few people came out of the temple and spotted us. When the priest joined them on the temple's front steps, I punched the terror-stricken VC once to render him unconscious, then we let him fall.
He tumbled a bit on the way down and landed almost head-first on the thick cornicework of a stone roof of one of the tombs, then rolled off it to land on the stone steps leading up to the doors.
Jeeps came down the hillside from the base, barely allowing the guards time to lift the bar as they blasted through the gate. The helicopter held position above the temple courtyard until the jeeps slid to a halt outside the cemetery, then it backed off a bit and continued to hover nearby.
Only then did some of the Viets venture near the VC on the tomb steps, gabbling and looking around as if afraid that another one might fall from the sky at any time. The Viet cops had also -- somewhat belatedly and in the wake of the US MP's -- hopped into their jeeps and come to the temple.
I asked Anna, "Good enough?"
"I should hope so."
"Ready to go? We can swing back past the hole and see how they're doing with the first one."
"Okay."
Flying over the trees instead of among them, we sped back to where we'd dropped the first VC and saw two jeeps about fifty feet apart on the far side of the fence, keeping the area covered with M-60 machine guns and M-16's as guys from two more jeeps searched the woods near the site on foot.
The first helicopter had landed on pad four, the bound VC was in the back of one jeep, and several MP's who looked rather nervous -- probably about standing in the open so close to the woods -- stood guard by each jeep.
Somebody inside the forest yelled, "Over here! I found the hole!" and someone else yelled back, "Don't touch anything! Watch for wires!"
Anna said, "They seem to have matters well in hand. Let's go see about some dinner. I'm starved."
"Sounds good. If we go back through the ops office or the ob-deck, it probably won't be too hard to find a place to unghost. Everybody'll be upstairs, watching the show."
Guys were standing at the edge of the landing pads and even a bit beyond to watch the MP's. As a man came out of the office, I held the door for Anna and followed her inside.
Col. Bender's office was open and empty, so we ducked in there and unghosted, then headed for the stairwell. The ob-deck was packed with people, about half of whom seemed to be MP's.
As we looked around, Resnick spotted me and almost yelled, "There! Him! That's the guy who told us where to look!"
When Bender saw who Resnick was pointing at, he gave a sardonic little grunt and muttered, "Gee. What a surprise."
Anna asked, "Am I too late? Is the show over?"
Resnick handed her his binoculars and said, "No, ma'am. The VC is still by the jeep on the left, and they found the other one in a graveyard."
"A graveyard?"
"Yes, ma'am. He... uh, they, uh... well, ma'am, the guys in the bird said it looked like they was carried out here to the open, then one of 'em was dropped, then the other one was carried over the trees to the graveyard and dumped there."
Lowering the binoculars to give him a look of stark disbelief, Anna asked, "Did you say 'carried'? Over the trees?"
Looking a bit embarrassed, Resnick said, "Uh, yes, ma'am. That's what the pilot said, and it, uh, well... It kind of looked that way to us, too, ma'am. Me and Mount, there, that is. He saw it too."
Glancing at Bender, Anna asked, "What did you see, Colonel?"
"I didn't," said Bender. "I just got here a few minutes ago."
Anna gave Resnick another skeptical look for good measure, then said, "Well, whatever really happened, enough people are looking after things, so I'm going to dinner." Looking at me, she asked, "Can you spare a few minutes, Sergeant?"
"Yes, ma'am," I said.
With that, Anna nodded at me as she spoke to Bender.
"Colonel Bender, would you care to join us?"
Glancing around, Bender pointed to someone in the front of the crowd as he said, "I'll be along as soon as I've had a word with Lt. Case."
We left the ob-deck for the mess hall, where I took a seat across from Anna for appearances' sake. Almost halfway through our meal, Bender joined us with brief apologies for being so late to arrive, then left the folder he'd been carrying face down on the table as he went to fill a tray.
"Curious about what's in that folder?" I asked.
"A little," said Anna, taking a bite of steak.
Glancing at Bender in the serving line, I asked, "Wanna sneak a peek?"
In a flat tone, Anna firmly said, "No. Let him show it to us later if it's any of our business."
Grinning at her, I asked, "What if he doesn't show it to us? Can you really live with that?"
"Yesh," she said around a mouthful of green beans. Swallowing, she added, "And so can you. Behave yourself."
When Bender returned, he shoved the folder aside and sat down next to me, then dug into his food with only minimal conversation for a time. I finally asked him if what was in the folder had anything to do with the discovery of VC in the bushes by the fence.
Bender chewed, swallowed, sipped his Coke, turned to me, and stated, "Yes. As a matter of fact, it does have to do with that very event."
He then cut another piece of meat and continued eating. Anna snickered, then sipped her Coke before forking up the last of her green beans. I glanced sidelong at Bender, then shrugged and finished my own green beans.
Chapter Thirty-seven
When Bender continued eating and made only small talk about the lack of any volume business at 3rd Surgical for a whole day, I gathered Anna's tray and silverware with my own and stood up to take them to the bus bins, then thanked Anna for her company at dinner and said good evening to both of them.
After dumping the trays and getting another glass of Coke, I headed for the corridor while watching a rather pretty nurse come into the mess hall. Bender called to me before I got past their table.
"Sergeant."
I approached him and replied, "Yes, Colonel?"
"I thought you were curious about this folder."
Glancing at it, I said, "Well, sir, I was, but it occurred to me that what's in that folder really won't mean much to me if it can't get me another stripe or a ticket back to the States."
"How does realizing something like that lessen your curiosity? Would the possibility of receiving a reward make you more curious?"
Shrugging, I said, "I suppose it might, sir."
Anna chuckled and Bender's gaze narrowed, but only studiously, not with any apparent irritation. He tapped the folder with a fingernail, then handed it to me.
Saying, "Thank you, sir," I took it and opened it.
Page one was about my report to the MP's. Page two was about their response. Pages three through five were a synopsis of what had transpired as seen by Mount and Resnick, those in the helicopters, and an MP LT who'd dashed out the gate to go to the temple cemetery.
There was no mention whatsoever of the VC having left the ground. The report simply stated that two VC had 'appeared', that one of them had injured his knee near the fence, and that the other one had been 'pursued' to the village cemetery, where he'd apparently had some sort of accident resulting in his demise. I chuckled at that.
"May I show this to the Major?" I asked Bender.
He nodded and I handed the open folder to Anna, who scanned it and also chuckled.
Bender said, "The hospital commander has been known to award cash bonuses for achievements. Spotting those VC may put you on that list."
"Cash?"
"Possibly as much as a hundred dollars," said Bender.
After a moment, I said, "Colonel, at fifty bucks a head, I'd be willing to go out and get the VC myself and save the MP's the kind of trouble they went to today. I could bring in a few every week for the next five months and stack up some serious college money."
Bender's responding chuckle was a little halfhearted as he realized that I didn't appear to be joking. He looked at me oddly as he took the folder back, and when he looked at Anna as he set the folder on the table, she met his gaze and smiled slightly, but said nothing.
Several moments of silence passed before he said, "Sit down, please, Sergeant. I'd like to ask you something."
I sat, then waited as he formulated his question.
"Sergeant," he at last began, "You were sent here in the middle of your tour of duty, with no reasons given other than 'commander's discretion'. Captain Drake avoided telling me precisely why he let you go, but he assured me that you weren't a goldbrick or troublemaker."
Glancing at Anna, he said, "I might have taken those reassurances with a large grain of salt if not for your friendships with Lieutenant Hardesty, Major Corinth, and Captain Hartley. Hardesty in particular. He spoke very highly of you, but never quite said why he felt that way."
Sipping his Coke thoughtfully, Bender continued, "So... Since I believe that Major Corinth already knows why Drake let you go, I'll ask you to tell me, as well." He paused, then added, "Completely off the record and for my own peace of mind only."
Anna said, "You said 'off the record'. I'm a witness, Colonel."
Bender gave her a raised eyebrow at that, but said nothing as he waited for my response.
"Colonel," I said, "I went hunting at night. If I go with you and Hardesty decides it's okay to talk about it, he'd probably be able to tell you fairly precisely how many VC weapons I turned in while he was my XO. He had to sign them in and find a way to make them fit with unit's activities as a whole. One night I brought in half a dozen AK's and Hardesty had to keep them off the books for close to a week until we ran into a large enough VC force to work them in."
Pausing to glance at Anna, I said, "Drake let me go so that he wouldn't have to explain things to brigade. Now that I'm here, that brigade isn't likely to ask questions."
Bender sat quietly for some moments, then turned to Anna and asked, "Also off the record, Major; how is it that you found out about his unauthorized activities? If it's something... uhm... a little too personal..."
Anna had finished her Coke just before he'd spoken. The plastic glass splintered in her grip and collapsed in fragments. Ice scattered across the table, and Bender and I began scooping it onto his tray as she ignored the mess and her eyes narrowed like gunsights at him.
In a rather frightening tone with a similarly frightening steely gaze, she softly, carefully said, "If you're simply assuming that I'd know if he talks in his sleep, Colonel, your rank won't save you from being slapped so hard you'll feel it for a week. That's off the record, too, of course."
Bender actually froze in his seat for a moment, then said, "Major, I'm assuming nothing. For all I know, you may only have been willing to listen when he needed to talk. That sort of thing has happened to me often enough as a unit CO, and I'm nowhere near as pretty as you."
When Anna didn't relax immediately, I leaned across the table and stage-whispered, "He's got a real point, there, ma'am. You've got him beat to a raggedy pulp where looks are concerned."
Her eyes met mine for a moment before she asked, "A raggedy pulp?"
"Oh, yeah. Worse'n that, Major Goddess, ma'am. Compared to you, he's downright ugly. Beyond that, I think he really meant what he said."
Anna said tightly, "Sergeant, my nametag says 'Corinth', not 'Goddess'."
"Yes, ma'am, I was actually applying it as your rank, not using it as your name. I guess I kind of unofficially promoted you at some point. Off the record, like when you so kindly offered to smack him silly and I didn't hear it. May I get you another Coke while I look for a bartowel?"
Standing up, she said, "Let's just move to another table if we're going to continue this discussion." Looking at Bender, she amended, "Or we can go to my office, where there's less chance of being overheard. Colonel?"
Bender glanced at his tray and said, "Uh, yes. Certainly, Major. Your office would be fine, but we really ought to deal with this mess first."
"I'll get it," I said. "See you there, Major."
Meeting my gaze briefly, Anna said, "Thank you," and turned to lead the way to the corridor at a march step.
Bender started to pick up his tray, but I said, "I said I'll get it, Colonel. Go with her. I'll be along in a minute."
He nodded and picked up the folder, then followed Anna. I took our trays to the bus bins, dried my hands on some napkins, and drank another half-glass of Coke to kill a few minutes before I, too, followed Anna.
When I arrived at her office, the door was open and both of them were seated; she at her desk and Bender in the sofa chair. I entered the office and closed the door, then took a seat on the couch.
Anna said, "Colonel, I know about his unauthorized hunting because I've participated."
Mixed startlement and disbelief flooded Bender's face.
"That's right," said Anna softly. "I've been out there, too. I won't say how I got there or when -- not even off the record -- but I will say that it isn't enormously difficult to get aboard a chopper if you're wearing fatigues, field gear, and a helmet."
Bender seemed to have difficulty finding his voice for a moment, then he rather tightly said, "I'm having a little trouble believing this, Major. I'm also wondering why you'd risk telling me something like this."
"Who'd believe you if you told them?" asked Anna. Indicating me with a nod, she said, "We'd both deny it and we three are the only ones who know about it."
She leaned forward on her desk and said, "And I'm only telling you so you'll know why a Sergeant and a Major get along so well, Colonel."
"Hunting," Bender said in a near whisper. "Even if I believed you... You two call it 'hunting' as if combat were some kind of sport."
When Bender looked at me, I said, "Well, Drake called it my hobby, sir. I realize it's just a matter of semantics, but..."
"Shut up, Sergeant."
I shrugged and nodded.
Bender's hard gaze met mine for some moments, then he looked at Anna and said, "If you two are bullshitting me -- which I think you are -- you're either entertaining yourselves at great risk or you're trying to hide something else. If you aren't bullshitting, you're both nuts."
"Hardly," said Anna. "A GI who kills a VC is just doing his job. There's a war on, Colonel, and the VC are our enemies. One VC with an AK can kill or injure how many Americans? Potentially a large number. A VC who spends his time rigging traps is even worse. We get five times as many trap victims as shooting victims."
She sighed and added, "All you're really objecting to is the fact that I'm an American woman -- a nurse -- who's killed VC, even though VC women quite frequently kill Americans. I don't want to think the VC are more socially progressive than we are, Colonel, but I did have to sneak out there."
Bender looked at me again and asked, "Did you help her get out there, Sergeant?"
Meeting his glaring gaze again, I said, "She made her own travel arrangements, Colonel. The Major is probably one of the least helpless women you'll ever meet."
Anna said, "That last question didn't sound very 'off the record', Colonel. Are you thinking of abusing our confidence?"
Bender sighed, levered himself out of the chair, and stood straight for a moment before saying in a quietly ominous tone, "I truly dislike being made the butt of a joke, people."
When Anna's chair hit the wall she was already vaulting over her desk. She landed, grabbed Bender by his biceps, and shoved him back as she lifted him off the floor to pin him to the wall beside the couch.
Everything happened in less than two seconds. Bender's boots were more than a foot off the floor and his face was a mask of shock as he stared down at her.
I stood up and walked over to stand beside Anna as I said, "Now you know why I called her 'goddess', Colonel. She's bright, beautiful, quick, and strong, and I've never seen her in the least way intimidated by anyone or anything."
Anna glanced at me, then turned her attention back to Bender and asked in a quiet, calm voice, "Do you still think I was joking, Colonel?"
His arms were obviously hurting as he gritted out, "Ah... No, Major. No. I no longer think you were joking."
"Can you think of any other way that I might have convinced you that I wasn't joking before you left my office?"
"Ah... Well, no, I, ah... I guess I can't. Not at the moment, anyway. You have quite a grip, Major."
Colonel Tough Guy, hinting about his pain, but not ready to ask her to let him go.
Anna asked, "Do you want to know why I chose to tell you our secret, Colonel? Will you honestly listen?"
"Yes," said Bender, somewhat breathlessly. "Yes. I'll listen."
Letting him slide down the wall to stand on the floor, Anna relaxed her grip on his arms and let her hands fall to her sides as her eyes bored into his. Bender rubbed his arms, but otherwise stood quite still.
"Colonel," said Anna, "You'd have come to the conclusion that Ed and I were having an affair, and that wouldn't sit too well with you. It's also something that others -- especially the Army -- would find much more believable than our mutual interest in hunting, and I'm flatly not about to lose my commission over unsubstantiated rumors of scandal. I've seen that happen far too often to women in the military."
When he said nothing, she continued, "So I told you our real secret, knowing I'd likely have to try to prove it to you. What is it you're having trouble with, Colonel? The fact that a woman decided to go out there, that a woman could be interested in such things at all, or that she could be capable enough to do such things as well as a man?"
In what seemed to be the first true indication that Bender was even beginning to believe us, he asked, "But... Major, what if you'd been hurt? Or even killed?"
Anna looked at me and said, "Tell him."
I nodded and said, "Same as for anybody else, Colonel, except that I was to make a special effort to bring the body to where it could be found by our people, then to make damned sure they found it."
Bender looked at Anna and she shrugged as she said, "There'd have to be no question about whether I was dead. The Army might have decided not to pay out my insurance, my remaining salary, and benefits to my beneficiaries. I didn't want to be listed as missing and have everything tied up in court for seven years."
Turning to me, Anna asked, "Would you please bring us some coffee?"
Nodding, I headed for the door. Bender seemed about to protest, but Anna shook her head slightly and waved him back to the sofa chair as she rounded her desk to pull her own chair away from the wall and sit down.
Using a clipboard as a tray, I brought three coffees and condiments into the office a few minutes later. Anna and Bender hadn't said a word to each other that I'd heard, either through the open door or the thin wall.
As I set the clipboard down, took a coffee, and let them choose their own coffees, I glanced at each of them, then asked, "So, what now? Does anything among us really have to change? I kind of like my new job. My new CO's been pretty decent, too, even if he sort of used my .45 problem to make his name appear closer to the top of a promotion list."
Bender looked at me in silence as he stirred his coffee.
Anna said, "All I wanted was to clarify matters and prevent rumors and probable charges of misconduct. What happens next is up to you, Colonel. If you'll allow it, tomorrow can be just another day. Business as usual."
"Major," I said, "It might help to let the Colonel know that you haven't put on a helmet in order to sneak aboard any helicopters since I've been reassigned to medevac."
Bender looked up sharply at me, then at her, then said, "Yes, actually, that does help. A little. Does that mean you won't be going out again?"
Anna gave a little sigh and raised her right hand as she said, "Colonel, what's done is done, but I promise you that I won't sneak aboard a helicopter in field gear for the remainder of my tour. Now I'd like a promise from you; your word of honor that you won't create problems for either of us over anything we've discussed in this office today."
After a moment, Bender asked, "Are you absolutely sure nobody else knows? Not even somebody who's rotated back to the States?"
"We've been extremely careful, Colonel."
He sighed, "Then I see no reason to say anything at all about it."
"Your word on that?" insisted Anna.
Nodding, he said, "Yes, Major. My word on it."
Chapter Thirty-eight
For long moments we all just sat looking at each other in silence until Bender broke the stillness by sipping his coffee. I'd almost forgotten that I was holding a cup; I sipped mine and set it on the corner of the desk.
Another long pause ensued, then Bender said, "I've read about women who went into combat in other wars. They say there were as many as a thousand of them in the Civil War." He looked into his cup for a moment, then added, "Most of them weren't discovered until they'd been killed or wounded, and most of them were recorded as civilian casualties. I suppose they'd have had a friend or two among the troops to help them keep their secret."
"Bethany Allan," said Anna. "She served in three different infantry regiments for over two years during the Revolutionary War. Louise Phillips fell at the battle of Shiloh after a year and a half of service, and Cynthia Millar singlehandedly kept a cannon out of enemy hands for the better part of a day and a night at Round Rock."
Bender looked up sharply.
"Major, I'm very well versed in the Civil War and I'm familiar with that battle. The credit for saving that cannon was given to a Charles Millar of Philadelphia."
"Dig deeper, Colonel. The real Charles Millar was killed in battle three months into the war. The Charles Millar who saved the cannon enlisted a week after his death. Same home of record, right down to the street address. But that Charles Millar was quietly and quickly discharged without explanation immediately after the battle."
Bender seemed to be searching his mental files for a moment before he said, "Yes, he was, but I can't pull up why."
"For the good of the service," said Anna. "No other explanation was given."
With an air of skepticism, he asked, "What makes you think that whoever impersonated Charles wasn't a man, Major? Maybe a man who couldn't enlist under his own name for some reason? Maybe he was discharged for that same reason?"
With a small smile, Anna said, "Cynthia wrote quite often to Charles's sister, Heloise. Even way back then they used dated postmarks, Colonel, and the military postmarkings on almost a hundred letters validate Cynthia's claim to have been masquerading as Charles. Family members repeatedly filed petitions to have Cynthia's efforts publicly recognized, but the authorities in 1868, 1872, and 1884 wouldn't cooperate." She paused, then added, "Apparently, things haven't changed much since then."
"Major," I said, "Meeting you made me look up the subject of women in combat. The only book I could find in the library that covers the subject at all only mentioned Zoya Medvedeva and Nina Onilova, both of whom were machine gunners with Russia's 25th Chapayev Infantry Division. Onilova was KIA, March, 1942. Medvedeva became the machine-gun company's commander. Ludmilla Pavlichenko was a sniper with the 62nd Rifle Battalion and was credited with killing 309 Germans. Lance Corporal Maria Morozova, also a sniper with the 62nd, won 11 combat decorations. The Brits had mostly-female anti-aircraft batteries. Collette Nirouet fought with the French army and was posthumously awarded the Croix de Guerre, so at least one non-Commie nation had had the guts to publicly acknowledge a woman for heroic combat service. And all the Allied nations had female insurgents and spooks, but most of those ladies never got spit in the way of recognition for their work behind the lines. They've been treated as a dirty little secret, according to one retired British general."
Colonel Bender just sort of stared at me for a few moments. Anna's eyebrows were higher than I'd ever seen them as she said, "Well, damned if you don't do your homework, Sarge."
As I picked up my cup, I said, "It was an interesting subject, Major. Close to a million Russian women officially served in combat and most volunteered. Fact is, whether they've pretended to be men or signed up as women, it seems to me that just about all of the women who've served in combat have been volunteers. Can't say that about all the men. Over half the guys in the Civil War were draftees."
"Sixty-three percent," said Bender. When Anna and I looked at him, he said, "And about the same percentage of current Army and Marine personnel were drafted. I heard it in one of our morale briefings."
I leaned closer to him and stage-whispered, "Do you think women might be inherently more dangerous than men? Is that why societies everywhere traditionally avoid letting them handle weapons?"
Bender laughed softly and said, "I'm beginning to wonder about that." Looking at Anna, he grinningly said, "No offense, of course, Major."
With a small, cool smile, Anna said, "Oh, none taken, Colonel."
As he settled back in his chair, Bender held his cup in his right hand and braced his movement with his left arm on the arm of the chair. His eyes fell on his watch and he froze for a moment, then sat up.
"Damn. Major, I need to use your phone."
Anna pushed it to his side of the desk. Bender called the ops office.
"Beeker," he said, "Call Captain Wallace at the rec center and tell him that I've been delayed, but that I'm on my way."
Standing up and hanging up, he said, "Major. Sergeant. There's a DROS party for Major Crenna from entomology tonight. I'm one of the speakers. Would you care to join me?"
I stood up and waited to see what Anna would say.
Also standing, Anna said, "I wouldn't mind at all, Colonel. Just let me step across the hall for a moment before we go."
As she took her purse from a desk drawer and headed for the door, I said, "Thanks for the invitation, sir."
He nodded as a reply and watched Anna leave, then turned to me.
"Sergeant," he almost whispered, "Did she really go to the bush?"
"Yes, sir, she did. She met me out there many times."
With a very tight voice and a narrow gaze, he asked, "Did it never occur to you to report her activities, Sergeant? Or to try to stop her?"
Meeting his piercing gaze, I said, "Of course it did, sir. For all of about ten minutes. She found me, Colonel. I didn't find her. She got out there on her own and got back on her own every time she went, and I found out the night of our meeting wasn't the first time -- or even the fourth time -- that she'd been out hunting."
Sighing and shaking my head, I said, "A beautiful, red-headed nurse -- a Major, no less -- slipping out to hunt VC at night. Jesus, Colonel, I'd sooner report a UFO parked on one of our helipads. At least a dozen or so people in the Army wouldn't think I was completely crazy about something like that. And stop her? How? Knock her out and carry her back? I'm not sure I could do that, sir, and you've already found out why first-hand. It seemed to make a lot more sense to work with her instead of against her."
"I see. So you didn't even try."
"No sir. I didn't want to wind up in a psych ward for reporting her and I figured the Army would find some way to bury the whole situation at my expense if I slugged her and dragged her back."
"At your expense?"
I sighed and said, "Sir, with all due respect, the Army would sacrifice me instantly and without the slightest remorse to keep its public image squeaky clean. It would bury the matter, falsify records, and brand Major Corinth and me nutcases, just in case we ever got the urge to mention her hunting expeditions. You know it and I know it, so let's not even pretend that reporting her would have been a good idea, okay, sir?"
He bridled at my tone, but after a moment or so, he nodded and said, "Yes, you're probably right. That's probably exactly what would happen, Sergeant. Possibly even to a colonel who reported such things."
Hesitating for a second, he asked, "Did you encounter any VC?"
"Yes, we did."
Again hesitating, he asked, "Who killed them?"
"Are you actually asking me if she killed any, sir?"
"Yes. That's exactly what I'm asking, Sergeant."
I took a breath and said, "On one particular night, her personal count was eleven, sir. Mine was thirteen only because I used two grenades on mortar positions before we hauled ass back to the perimeter."
Bender goggled skeptically at me and asked, "How is it you were close enough to 'haul ass' back to the perimeter, yet your own rifle fire didn't cause those within the perimeter to send help or shoot at you?"
Looking past him, I saw Anna in the doorway as I replied, "Neither of us fired a rifle that evening, Colonel."
"What? Then..."
"Quiet kills only, sir. Until the grenades went off, anyway. She's very good with a bayonet."
Anna stepped into the room saying, "That's right. I am."
Bender stiffened and turned as she closed the door. Anna walked past him to her desk and leaned across it to open a drawer. Lifting out an M-16 bayonet in a scabbard, she pulled the bayonet free of the sheath, straightened and turned, and threw it at the dart board on the back of the office door.
The bayonet flew the fifteen feet or so and buried itself inside the triples ring of the number two section, about two inches below and an inch to the right of the bull's eye, knocking all but one of the six darts loose to fall clatteringly on the floor.
I was as impressed as Colonel Bender. The board was one of those pissy little half-sized, ten-inch diameter, locker-door models from the PX.
"Damn," I said softly. "Good toss, ma'am."
Bender said nothing as he stared at the dart board. I went to pick up the darts and wrest the bayonet from the door and the board, then returned to lay them all on Anna's desk.
"It went all the way through," I said. "We either need something to cover the hole or a decent excuse for throwing bayonets in the office."
She grinned as she put the bayonet away and said, "Look in the closet. There's a 'Safety First' poster in there somewhere on the left. I'll find you some thumbtacks."
"Major," said Bender in a somewhat awed tone, "Where did you learn to throw a knife like that?"
"On camping trips. It gives you the reach on snakes. Or other things."
"So I see."
Once the outside hole in the door was covered, we headed for the party at the rec center, which was already well underway. Bender and Anna met and greeted others and I took our drink orders to the bar.
Because of the shortage of enlisted women, some of the nurses danced with enlisted men if asked, but mostly everybody in the room was simply standing around, talking and drinking.
When a soft jazz tune was played, I leaned close to Anna and asked, "Care to dance, milady?"
"We're trying to play down that side of things, remember?"
"Oh, yeah. Rats. Hey, there's Brooks, all by herself near the punchbowl. Should I ask her?"
Shrugging, Anna smilingly said, "Sure. What's the worst that could happen? Death? Dismemberment?"
"Why do I get the feeling you already know the answer?"
With a small smile, Anna said, "She's not really fond of men, Ed."
"Then it won't hurt her at all -- Army-wise -- to be seen dancing with one, will it? It won't hurt our cause any, either, will it?"
Cocking her head, Anna looked thoughtful as she said, "Well, no, actually. It probably wouldn't be a bad idea."
I said, "Then I most regretfully excuse myself, ma'am," and headed over to Lieutenant Brooks.
She eyed me rather warily as I approached.
"Hi, LT. You look as if you're here because you have to be."
"Close enough," she said.
"Then may I try to be of assistance, milady?"
"What?"
"Assistance. To ease your discomfort. Care to dance?"
In a slightly sharp tone, she again asked, "What?"
"Dance. A real dance, before they go back to playing the stand-and-shake stuff. I like Elvis's stuff well enough, but I prefer to dance to stuff like this, and I'm a safe date because I'll be leaving with Anna. No pawing, no hassles."
"I don't think so."
"Why not? Would it hurt your image to be seen dancing with me?"
She peered sharply at me for a moment, then glanced at Anna. So did I. Anna smiled and made a little 'shoo' gesture at us.
Turning her gaze back to me, Brooks said, "The song's almost over."
Holding up a finger, I said, "Stay put. I'll fix that," and went to the guy who was running the phonograph. He said the next song was an Elvis number, but that the one after that could be from the soft jazz album.
Returning to Brooks, I said, "Done. The song after this one."
Brooks asked, "Why the hell do you want to dance with me?"
Grinning, I said, "Well, gee, lady. Dancing with you isn't going to hurt my image any. Besides, Anna and I just came away from denying a romantic involvement. Bender had suspicions, but Anna tossed him a bone to chew on. LT, from what I've heard and seen since I've been here, you're less than fond of men. I won't try to change your mind about that, and being seen dancing with me won't do you any harm."
Her sharp look turned almost malevolent for a moment, then returned to being just a sharp look. I mirrored her angry look briefly, then grinned and chuckled.
"One thing, though," I added. "You might want to at least try to appear as if you're having a good time when we're dancing. If you can't smile, could you at least grit your teeth and grin a little?"
Anna had disengaged from somebody's monologue and come over to stand beside me.
She asked, "Did she say yes?"
"Well, no, not yet," I said. "It's been kind of uphill, really."
"Warned you, didn't I?"
"What?" snapped Brooks.
Sighing with a disappointed air, I said, "Well, yes'm, you did. But I thought if I let her know where I stand..."
Turning her gaze on Brooks, Anna said, "There's a rumor that you never date and that you hate men. Rumors like that eventually lead to suspicions, Monica, especially in the military. Suspicions can lead to certain kinds of charges and discharges, so borrow my friend, here, for a dance or two. Or three. Hang onto him for me for a little while. Smile when he says something nice and at least pretend to have a good time. We all have some suspicions to shake off tonight."
After a moment, Brooks said, "He told me. Colonel Bender."
Nodding, Anna said, "For what little difference a few hours together might make, you'd be doing us all a favor to hang onto him and look as happy as possible this evening."
Brooks looked at me and rather dubiously said, "Yeah. Okay. As long as he behaves."
"Gee, such enthusiasm," I said. "I'm having second thoughts already."
Anna snickered and said, "If she breaks your little heart, I'll try to fix it later. Okay?"
"As you command, milady. You have but to glance my way to own my heart."
Laughing aloud, Anna said, "God, for a sergeant, you talk real pretty sometimes."
Glancing at Brooks, I said, "She thinks I'm kidding."
With a snicker of her own, Brooks said, "I think you're full of shit."
"Yeah, well, just for that you'll only get conversation and dancing out of me, and only if you're real nice to me the rest of the evening."
"I can live with that. Possibly even less than that."
Shrugging, I said, "Nah. Gotta keep up appearances. I intend to make you laugh in public at least once tonight, LT."
"Hah! Fat chance."
"Hah! Got you. That counted."
Shaking her head as she rolling her eyes, Anna muttered, "Jesus," then, "Later, people. Don't kill each other, okay?" and waded back into the herd of people by the buffet.
Elvis's 'Blue Moon of Kentucky' finished and I turned to see if the DJ remembered my request. He nodded at me and I held a hand out to Brooks. She eyed it for a moment, then took it, and we waited for the next record to spin up.
"Suggestion," I said. "We dance a few, talk a while, then let everybody see us sneak out of here. Anna will know to meet us on a roof."
As we eased into a simple box-step, she said, "I don't hunt. You know that."
"Hunting wasn't part of the suggestion, LT."
"Stop calling me that. I'm Brooks or Monica. Or Lieutenant."
"Okay. Monica, then. What are you -- about five-three?"
"Five-four. Why?"
"Just wondered."
"Why?"
"Just did."
"Why, dammit?"
"Cool it, ma'am. It was simple curiosity, nothing more. I was guessing your height, not your cup size."
In a frosty tone, she asked, "Oh, really?!"
"Yeah, oh, really. And you aren't smiling, ma'am." Sighing disappointedly, I said, "You're supposed to be ecstatically happy to be in my arms."
With a fisheye expression, Monica yelped, "Ha! Oh, hell."
"Indeed so. That's twice. Sooner than I'd expected, too. I kinda thought you'd be a little tougher to crack, being an officer and all."
"What's being an officer got to do with it?"
"Oh, it's just an image thing, I guess. Officers intimidate me, y'know. It's an authority thing, I guess."
She grinned and snickered, "Sure they do."
"Does that count? If so, it's three."
"Stop counting. That's an order."
"Yes'm. I'll keep the three I've got, though."
The song was very nearly finished before I said, "You know, I'm just a little surprised, Lieutenant. You haven't mashed my toes even once."
"That's because I can dance. I was surprised as hell that you could."
"Lessons long ago." I grinned as I said, "And a bit of practice here and there, usually with the girls who came to parties with guys who couldn't dance."
Monica glanced up with a matching grin at that comment.
"Funny thing," I said, "The girls all learn and practice with each other, but nobody's managed to find a way to make young boys appreciate the art, so the girls wind up dancing with each other. Or passing the one guy who can dance around like a box of Cracker Jacks."
The music stopped, but Monica seemed not to notice as she grinned and noddingly answered, "Yeah, that's how it was. Is, I should say. Look around. We're one of four couples dancing out of how many people? About forty so far, I think. When I remember all the hours my friend Trish and I spent learning all those steps in her living room, listening to Sinatra and Como and Dinah Shore... And then going to my first real dance... The guys were all sitting along the wall talking football. Stupid."
"Not you stupid. Them stupid."
She looked up and said, "Yeah, that's what I meant. You know, I'd almost forgotten what dancing was like. I..."
Her words and our dancing halted when a song began playing with too quick a beat for our style of dancing. People notice when a couple is still dancing after the music stops. They also notice when that couple is obviously taken by surprise by the next number.
Chapter Thirty-nine
Quite a few eyes were on us as we headed for the punchbowl and our drinks. There were a few giggles, grins, and snickers. Monica blushed a little as we made our way off the dance floor.
As I handed Monica her glass, she quietly stated, "You set me up for that."
Nodding, I said, "Yup. Sure did. Should I apologize?"
Glancing around briefly, Monica said, "Well, no, but how about warning me the next time?"
"Wouldn't be the same. Your blush signed and sealed it for them."
With a look of minor shock, she blurted, "I blushed? Oh, my God..."
"Red as a beet, but don't sweat it. To us, it just meant you were caught off-guard, but to them, it meant you were really having fun. What are you going to do if some guy wants to cut in or asks you to dance?"
"Ah... Hell, I don't know. Stay with you, I guess."
"Nope. Me enlisted, you officer. We can't seem too close any more than Anna and I can seem too close. If he isn't too ugly, didn't get the courage to ask you out of a bottle, and he doesn't drool on you with mindless lust, consider dancing with him. Especially if he's an officer."
Monica's gaze narrowed on me as she asked, "Are you under the very mistaken impression that you can tell me what to do, Sergeant?"
"Are you under the very mistaken impression that I'm giving you bad advice? Want to hear the same thing from a major, LT? I'll go get her. Or you could try closing your eyes and listening to the same words in her voice. Maybe they'll sound more palatable." I grinned and added, "And smile, damn it. We're still having a good time, remember?"
She gave me a quick grimace and said, "Oh, up yours," through clenched teeth, then said, "Yeah, all right, I'll dance with the first schmuck who comes along. Happy?"
"Thrilled. Want another drink?"
"Sure. Scotch and water, no ice."
"Be right back. Just wait here and look forlorn or something."
Monica blinked at me, then gave me that grimace again and shook her head with a real grin. By the time I got back with her scotch and my gin, a 1st LT had slithered into close range and was talking intently to her.
As I took her almost empty glass, he took advantage of her empty hand by taking it in his and asking her to dance.
He didn't wait for her reply before turning to me and stating in a rather insistent tone, "You won't mind, will you, Sergeant." It wasn't a question.
Yanking her hand free of his, Monica said, "He doesn't have to mind, Lieutenant. I do. Get lost."
She then reached for her drink. The startled LT stood glaring at her for a moment, then glanced at me as he stalked away. Anna noticed the event and came over.
Monica told her that the guy had been a pushy jerk, and I agreed -- adding that I thought she should hold out for a captain or better, anyway -- then said that they could both get by without me for a few minutes and headed for the latrine.
Anna took Monica to join the group by the buffet, and when I returned, Monica was dancing with a major who seemed to know what he was doing out there. When the song ended, they returned to the buffet area and the major apologized to me for hijacking her.
"No sweat, Major. You dance better than I do, and I think that's what she really came here for. Run her out there and spin her again."
Monica almost goggled at me, but the major grinned and bowed slightly to her as he graciously requested another dance. Monica gave him a blank look for a moment, then nodded and let him lead her to the dance floor.
"That was slick," said Anna with a chuckle. "A very good handoff."
"I was making room on my dance card for you, milady."
"Ah. Well, we can't let that slot go to waste, can we?"
She put her drink down and we hit the floor with the others. Anna was a remarkably smooth dancer, and I said so.
"How odd," she said, "A guy named Zachary Taylor said exactly the same thing to me once." In a quieter tone, she confided, "I guess I've had a bit more practice than some. Do you mind dancing with a much older woman?"
"I'd love to reassure you with a kiss, ma'am, but as someone told me recently, they'd probably bring back flogging -- just for me -- if I did."
Anna laughed softly in her warm, husky contralto and said, "I'll have to find or make the time to teach you some more dance steps, Sergeant. You're good company. Tell me; what did you say that made Monica blush so deeply after your first dance with her?"
"Not you stupid. Them stupid."
Pulling back a bit, she grinningly asked, "What?"
"That's what I said. Well, partly. I remarked that girls go out of their way to learn to dance, while boys don't. She agreed and expounded on that a bit and didn't notice when the music stopped."
"Did you happen to say that just before the song ended?"
"I believe I may have at that, ma'am. She called it a setup, of course."
"Imagine that. How did she take it?"
Nodding in Monica's direction, I said, "Well enough, apparently."
Monica and the major were getting to know each other a bit; their moves had become a bit more expansive and instinctive. I glanced at the DJ and saw him almost transfixed by the dancing. If he didn't also work the O-club, it was unlikely that he ever saw much dancing like that.
Since he'd played a number of such songs in a row, I figured someone might have to actually ask for a rock and roll song to break his reveries, and two songs later, that's exactly what happened.
Just as well. Three or four good dances amount to a reasonable amount of exercise. People were coming off the floor ready to drink and talk, and Monica and the major were no different from the others.
"...from Boise?" I heard her ask, "Really? They dance like that there?"
"Lieutenant, such places are the last remaining bastions of the old ways in some respects," the major intoned. "Besides," he said in a lighter tone, "The new dances don't allow people to hold each other and move together, so I really haven't bothered with them."
"Well said," I said, "If I can't hold the lady in my arms, I'd rather just sit down and watch her work up a sweat dancing three feet apart from someone else. Um. Excuse me. I've been told that ladies don't sweat; they perspire."
Anna laughed and even Monica managed a chuckle as she said, "Oh, that depends. Back in training, we sweated. Buckets of it. Completely without grace."
The major thought that was moderately hilarious. Until he stepped to one side, I didn't see Colonel Bender standing behind the massive cake with 'GOODBYE HARRY!' wrapped halfway around the two center layers, but when he appeared, he was grinning, too. Four fat grins. Not a bad score.
That was when Corporal Beeker came trotting into the room. He saw me and I pointed around the cake at Bender.
Beeker marched up to him and said, "We got a call, sir. Delta-4-2 has four men down. Jackson's bird is saddled up and Samuels is on the comm because the XO had to go to the ER. Samuels is gonna launch Jackson in five if you or the XO don't call him back."
"It's a verified call?" asked Bender.
"The names and numbers match, sir. Spec.5 Berryman made the call and we know him personally."
Reaching for the rec center phone, Bender said, "Good job, Beeker. Head on back now. Samuels may need you."
With a "Yes, sir," Beeker quick-marched out of the rec center as Bender dialed the ops office.
"Samuels," said Bender, "Good job. Launch him." There was a pause of perhaps five seconds, then Bender said, "Good. I'm at 4214 if you need me. That's right. They'll be sending Major Crenna home drunk, I think. Doesn't matter; he won't be driving. Did Delta report contact? Good. Maybe we'll all get some sleep tonight, after all."
After he hung up, Bender came back to the buffet and looked at Anna and me as he said, "Major, one of those traps you mentioned earlier just got four of Delta's people. I wholly agree with your sentiments about those particular VC."
He then picked up the plate with his slice of cake and fork and went to sit next to a captain whom I knew to be on the ER staff and held a quick, hushed conversation.
The ER guy got up and went to the phone. When he came back, whatever he said to Bender made him nod, then he continued to eat his cake as the guy sat back down and they talked.
Within a few minutes everybody had generally got back to partying, partly because the rec center had to close at or near ten. A few minutes after ten I lined a clean cardboard box about two feet square with paper towels and began slicing cake and shoveling it into the box, leaving an area for a small stack of paper plates and plastic forks.
Monica asked, "Is that going to the medevac guys?"
"Yup. Care to come along?"
"Ah, no. Tomorrow's a big day."
"But was tonight a big night, milady? You had fun, right?"
She gave me a small smile and said, "Yes, I had fun. I haven't danced so much in years."
"Good 'nuff, then. Care to fly with us later?"
"I don't hunt. You know that."
"I didn't say hunt. I said fly."
"We'll see."
Rather than push it, I just nodded and finished caking the box bottom, then closed the box and carried it to the table where Anna and Bender were talking about something.
Bender looked up and asked, "Yes, Sergeant?"
"I thought I'd haul this box down to medevac, Colonel. Do you need me for anything here?"
"No, I'll be leaving soon myself. Would that be cake?"
"It would. I was going to go out through ward two and walk around to the ops office so it'll taste better than regular mess hall cake."
Anna cocked an eye at me and asked, "You mean to make it look as if you sneaked it out of here?"
"That's the plan, Major."
Nodding, Bender grinned and said, "It should work just fine. See you tomorrow, Sergeant."
"Tomorrow it is, sir. Major, I think LT Brooks may have met her dancing match tonight. I didn't get his name, but I'll bet she did."
"No doubt. Thanks for your help with that, Sergeant."
"Not much help, really. Someone like the dancing major needed to see her in action, that's all. Could be she switched to him to save her toes."
Shaking her head, Anna smiled as she said, "No, I don't think so. You didn't step on my toes even once."
Hefting the box, I said, "I was just plain afraid to step on your toes, ma'am. Goodnight, all."
When I furtively showed up at the ops office outer doors with the cake, a small crowd formed almost immediately. I took my leave in the midst of the feeding frenzy and spiffed up a little for Anna, then ghosted behind a fire door and headed for the roof.
Some fifteen minutes later an aura slipped out a side door and flew around a parked helicopter as it rather slowly approached, never more than a few feet off the ground until it rose to roof-level. When the aura settled beside me, I could see that it was nearly a foot shorter than mine.
"This must be the place," said Monica. "Hi. No Anna yet?"
"Hi, yourself. Nope. No Anna yet."
Walking to the edge of the roof, she watched the guys in the ops office finish off the cake as she said, "I haven't been out like this for quite a while."
"Reason?"
Shaking her head, Monica said, "Just haven't. I don't like to fly alone. Sometimes I remember that I don't have wings and wonder how the hell I'm staying in the air. I guess I feel better knowing someone's there to catch me."
Chuckling, I asked, "Someone who may be wondering the same thing for the same reason?"
She laughed softly and said, "I try not to think about that."
"Ah. I don't bother thinking about how it works, ma'am. I just use it and keep an eye on the gas gauge."
"You don't have to call me ma'am when we're... well, like this."
"Yes, milady."
"That, either."
"Sorry 'bout that. It'll happen anyway, though. Habit."
"Kind of an odd habit, isn't it?"
"Well, I never thought so, but that may only be because it's my habit, I guess."
Chapter Forty
When the ops doors opened as the CQ made his mandatory walk-around, another aura left the building at fairly high speed and arced an easy thousand feet above us before plummeting straight at us. I heard Monica gasp softly before Anna hit the brakes and settled gently to the roof beside us.
"Showoff," I said. "Nice entrance though."
Anna laughed softly and said, "I'm just very glad to get out of there. Hi, Monica. It's been a while since I've seen you outside."
"Hi, Anna. It's been a while since I've wanted to go out. You know how I feel about flying."
"Ah. Why's tonight special?"
With a sigh and a shrug that made her aura ripple upwards momentarily, Monica said, "It just is. Like the dancing, I guess. I felt as if I may have been missing something."
"Oh, you damned sure have, ma'am," I said. "In case you didn't know it, we can outfly a Cobra gunship." Shrugging, I added, "Well, for about twenty minutes, anyway."
"Shall we go?" asked Anna. "We can buzz the base a few times before we go hunting. Monica, just stick with me. Ed, stay behind Monica."
We lifted and Anna headed us toward the fence, then banked left sharply and increased speed. Monica was an instant slow, but caught up to her. Anna then did a few smooth dips that took us to within a few feet of the ground. Again, Monica was a bit slower with caution, but she managed to keep up.
When Anna increased speed again, Monica stayed with her, but when Anna headed straight for one of the hospital wings, I saw Monica drop back a little. Anna nosed up and streaked up and over the side of the building without reducing speed in the slightest. Monica followed, but at less than half of Anna's speed.
Anna was standing on the roof as Monica shot past above her. I landed and watched as Monica falteringly slowed and turned. She quickly got a grip on matters and headed back to land beside us with a sheepish grin.
"Good recovery, there," said Anna. "See? All it takes is some practice."
She then lifted and headed straight up at what must have been full throttle, judging by the speed at which she turned into a tiny bright dot.
Monica rose to follow her at a more cautious speed and I took a position below Monica. We didn't catch up with Anna while she powered upward. The air grew thinner and cooled enough to bite a bit before I noticed Anna's aura apparently growing larger again. She'd finally stopped ascending.
Gasping a bit, Monica asked, "How... How high are we?"
"Don't really know," said Anna, "But if we go any higher, we may pass out. I know that for a fact; I've done it. Want to look around a bit while we're up here or head back down where it's warm?"
"I, uh, I think I'd like to head back down."
Anna brightly said, "Okay, then. Follow me!" and turned off her ghost mode.
When she became visible I had a glimpse of her huge grin before her fatigues-clad body began to plummet. Monica shrieked and grabbed at me, finding and clinging to my arm.
I held still and waited until her panic passed, then she hissingly muttered, "I'll be God-damned if I'll do that."
Her aura had reflected her body position as she'd stared after Anna. It straightened, then she spoke again.
"You aren't planning to do that, are you?"
"No. Maybe later. Ready to go back down?"
"Yes. Thank you."
But for some moments, she made no move to descend.
I asked, "Um, didn't you just say you were ready to leave?"
"Uh... I... I can't seem to get started."
"Better deal with it. We can only hang around up here for an hour or so, I think."
"I know! Why the hell did she do that? She just left us up here."
"To watch you go 'splat' if you tried it? Or maybe to give you a way to gain confidence overnight?"
Her voice wavered as she chuckled and said, "I think I like the second choice best."
"Well, then, let's try some level flight to get things moving, then kind of nose down a bit. Keep your eyes on me and don't look down."
When I moved away and began a slow spiral downward, she followed. I began dropping slowly -- a few feet at a time -- and she stayed with me. I increased my rate of descent and she faltered, but managed to catch up and stay beside me.
"You looked down, didn't you?" I asked.
"Yes."
"But you're still with me, so you didn't panic."
"No. I didn't panic."
"Got news, ma'am. You didn't panic up there, either. You've just never stopped completely and had to restart in another direction before."
"Why couldn't I do it?"
"You were stuck, that's all. It happened to me the first time, too."
"You're just saying that."
"Nope. I got stuck, too. Anna just hung next to me and snickered. It's a newbie thing they do, I guess. How long have you been a vampire, Lt. Brooks, ma'am?"
"Less than two years. Twenty months or so. You?"
"Only a few months, but I'm airborne, so hanging well above the ground wasn't such a big deal for me."
"Apparently not. It was more than six months before I lifted my first time, and I never went higher than I could jump for another six months."
I shrugged, although she couldn't see it.
"Don't sweat it," I said. "I've seen guys make it through airborne training right up to their first jump from a plane, then lock up in the doorway. Or make it to their first night jump and lock up. Think about it. You just made a night jump of sorts, but you didn't lock up."
"Still, Anna didn't have to just abandon me up there."
"She didn't. She left you with me, and here we are, circling down like a couple of buzzards. She's probably expecting you to be a little more comfortable at lower altitudes after tonight."
After a few moments, Monica said, "Not being very good at flying isn't why I don't hunt, if that's what you're thinking. I think that's what Anna thinks."
"I don't know what she thinks about that and I haven't thought about it myself. Anna told me that a lot of vamps don't hunt."
"No, they don't. A lot of us have come from modern societies. We're used to buying food from supermarkets. Becoming a vampire doesn't automatically make you want to go out and kill things. It just makes you crave blood, and quite a few of us have chosen to live so that hunting isn't necessary."
We were still a good distance from the ground, but pinpoints of human aural lights were becoming visible as they moved from place to place. Anna's white-gold aura was motionless atop a roof.
Several more light-bluish auras -- uninfecteds -- stood at guard positions or moved around the base at speeds that indicated they were riding in open jeeps. Of particular interest was an aura that appeared on the outside of the fence after the jeep passed. I mentally marked the spot.
Monica must have mistaken my silence for some sort of opinion.
She asked, "So, how do you feel about those of us who don't hunt?"
Realizing she'd asked me a question, I replied, "Huh? Oh. I was watching the auras down there. I guess I don't much give a damn whether they hunt, ma'am. It's their business."
Her tone was flat. "I see."
"From the sound of that, I doubt you do. I really don't care who hunts or doesn't, Monica. Or why they do or don't. Think you can make it the rest of the way by yourself?"
"What? Uh, yeah. Sure. You're leaving?"
"I've been keeping my eye on a spot. I want to go mark it. Tell Anna to join me if she doesn't just follow me over there, okay?"
"Yeah. Sure. You mean you're going to go kill somebody, don't you?"
"It's a VC, and I'm going to mark the spot for now, that's all."
In a skeptical tone, she asked, "Excuse me, but if you can see him, why would you have to mark the spot?"
"Because he's in a spider hole and we can't see his aura unless he pops up. See you later. Tell Anna."
With that, I peeled away and dove at the treeline as the second watch jeep headed past that section of fence. This time the VC barely uncovered, and only for a brief moment, but it was enough.
I settled to earth about a yard from the covered hole and looked back toward the base. Monica was still spiraling down as Anna streaked across the pavement, hopped the fence, and crossed the open area to join me.
Yanking the cover back with my left hand, I slugged the VC's neck with the edge of my right hand. A fairly loud 'snap' followed and he collapsed into the hole, then Anna and I grabbed him and lifted him into the top of a nearby tree.
After draping the VC over a branch, we parked ourselves on either side of him and I drove a foot-long bit of broken branch through his heart as Anna snapped her cup open and held it to fill.
"Prosit," said Anna, then she took a long sip and passed the cup to me.
"L'chaim," I said.
Anna blinked at me for a moment, then chucklingly asked if I knew what that toast meant. I shrugged and said, "Sure. It means 'To life'. In this case, our lives and the lives of the guys this VC didn't kill."
"Were you Jewish before you turned agnostic?"
"Nope. I was bar hopping one night in Fayetteville. One of the guys in the Drop Zone Lounge said it every time we got a new round." Pointing upward at Monica's aura's slow descent toward us, I said, "Check it out; Monica's heading our way. Should we offer her a tipple?"
"Of course. If she doesn't want to see the results of hunting, she knows better than to visit a kill site."
We had time to drain another half-cup each before Monica stopped to hover above the fence and open zone for a few moments, then continued approaching us. She regarded the VC, then each of us, without comment briefly as she hung before us, then settled on the branch next to Anna.
Anna unplugged the VC to fill the cup again, then handed it to Monica, who didn't immediately take it.
"Might as well," I said. "He won't miss it at this point, and I'm about to go downstairs and make the hole bigger, so we'll be on our way soon."
"You're what?" asked Monica.
"Just drink up so we can get moving, ma'am."
Dropping off the branch, I snagged the AK and ammo from the hole with a bit of branch, then flew the weaponry to the fence and slung it toward the service road on the other side.
Returning to the hole, I picked up the three grenades the VC had stashed on a dugout shelf and lifted back up to the branch to hand one each to Anna and Monica, then pulled the pin on one and heaved it well away from us into the woods.
Anna sat coolly waiting and only winced a little when the sharp explosion came. Monica startled so that she almost lost her balance.
"My turn," said Anna, pulling the pin and throwing her grenade in the same direction as mine.
"Oh, lordy," I said. "We'd better duck. You throw like a girl."
Her aural arm flashed out and backhanded my chest as she said, "But I can hit like a sledgehammer, don't forget."
"Oh, yes'm," I gasped as her grenade exploded. "Gotcha. Monica, pull the pin and see how far you can toss it."
She stared at the grenade for a couple of moments, then put a finger through the pin's ring and yanked it free before quickly flailing the grenade away as if it might be infectious. The grenade landed maybe twenty feet from our tree.
"Oh, shit," I muttered. "Not far enough. Everybody up. Now. Go, go, go!"
We ascended at best speed -- even Monica -- for a few seconds. When the grenade blew, we were high enough to be safely out of its reach.
Anna chuckled and said, "Ed, no more grenades for Monica, okay? Not until she joins a softball team and learns to throw a little better."
"Sorry," said Monica.
"No problem," said Anna, dropping back to the branch.
We picked up the VC and headed for the village cemetery, where we dropped him from perhaps two hundred feet onto the walkway, then we headed back to the hospital and settled on the roof of the ops wing to watch the activities at the fence.
An arriving jeep drove over the VC's rifle before it could stop, sliding to a halt and backing up so one of the MP's could jump out and grab it, then dash over and grab the ammo belt. Standing on the side of the jeep away from the fence, the two guys radioed in their discovery.
A gunship lifted from pad four and approached the area of the explosions, training a searchlight on the trees below. I knew what they'd see from experience; there'd be a bit of smoke and dust visible, but damned little else.
"If we've seen enough," said Anna, "Let's go to my room and open the spiced rum. Monica, are you up for that?"
"I... Uh, yeah. Sure. I may not stay long, though."
Lifting as she spoke, Anna said, "Your choice."
In her room, Anna unghosted by her dresser and opened a drawer as Monica and I unghosted more or less in the middle of the room. Handing small glasses to Monica and me and taking one for herself, Anna poured a bit of rum in each one, then set the bottle on the desk and lifted up her own glass.
"Do we need a toast?" she asked.
Monica said nothing and I shrugged. Anna sipped her rum and sat down on the corner of the bed near the desk. Monica sat down in the sofa chair. I draped myself into the chair by the desk and sipped my own drink.
After a few moments of rather complete silence, Anna said, "Monica, you're welcome to stay and play, if you'd like. Ed's great with shampoo, among other things."
I winced internally at the idea of having to deal with shy, skinny Monica in bed, but I tried to keep my feelings hidden and sipped my drink to help cover them.
Without looking up from her drink, Monica reddened slightly and said, "Uhm... Well, maybe another time, Anna. Thanks, anyway."
Anna glanced at me, possibly to see how I accepted being rejected. I shrugged. Her hand fell on my thigh and she squeezed my leg. When I met her gaze, her eyes flickeringly indicated Monica and she squeezed harder.
Taking her heavy-handed hint, I said, "Uh, Monica, I don't bite, you know. I've been known to nibble on a woman under the right circumstances, but..."
Monica snickered and looked up. "The right circumstances?"
Nodding, I said, "I never just dive right into things. I want to be remembered. Fondly and forever."
She almost laughed, then studied me thoughtfully.
"You aren't kidding, are you?"
Shaking my head slightly, I said, "Nope. But that usually means that the lady can't be shy about letting me know what she likes best, and that can mean actually making suggestions in the midst of things."
Anna's fingers dug into my leg; her way of suggesting that I not toss any more caveats at Monica. Too bad. Monica flatly didn't appeal to me and I didn't appreciate being pressured.
Chapter Forty-one
After several more moments of studying me, Monica cocked her head slightly and said, "You're very irritating sometimes."
"Well, it hasn't been intentional, if that helps any."
Sipping her drink, she said, "It doesn't. You don't think very much of me, do you?"
Sighing, I said, "It isn't that, Monica. All I know is that you seem very reluctant, and I'm not interested in pushing matters." Glancing at Anna, I added, "Even though someone who is interested may leave permanent dents in my leg."
Anna simmered at me with a narrow gaze and took her hand off my leg, then tossed her drink down and rose to go to the desk. She refilled her glass, then turned and checked ours. When I nodded, she handed me the bottle instead of pouring from it. Silence reigned as I leaned to fill Monica's glass, then handed the bottle back to Anna.
I swilled my rum and put my empty glass on the night table, then said, "Some people make better friends than lovers, that's all."
Kissing Anna, I said, "Goodnight, everybody," and headed for the door.
"Hey," said Anna, "Where the hell are you going?"
"It's late. I'll see you tomorrow, Anna."
Before she could say anything else, I went to ghost mode, slipped out and pulled the door shut, and flew down the hall to the main corridor. The ops office was empty. I unghosted behind a fire door and went in, then went to the coffee pot by the desk and tapped a cup, taking it to a chair by the window.
The CQ, a private I hadn't met, returned from his rounds a few moments later, saw me sipping coffee in the office, and asked, "Are you with medevac?"
"Yup." I gave him my name and rank and watched his reflection in the window as he checked his list.
Waving his clipboard, he needlessly said, "I've been out making the rounds."
Nodding, I said to his reflection, "Kinda figured that."
"Hey, you're the guy who snuck us the cake, right?"
Nodding again, I said, "Right."
"Well, thanks. I had some. Hey, did you hear what happened out by the fence a while ago? Some MP's found a Cong rifle inside the wire."
"Yeah, I knew about it."
After a moment, he said, "Look, I'm not trying to bother you, Sergeant. I just don't know everybody here yet. I've only been here about a week. Where are you from?"
'Where are you from?' had to be the most ubiquitous words spoken in the US Army; they were always among the first words spoken by any GI to any other GI.
They were also the words used by senior officers who -- for whatever reason -- wanted to give the appearance of being 'just one of the guys' when they mingled with the rank and file troops.
Turning in my chair to face the CQ, I said, "No offense, but I'm not really in the mood to talk right now. I just want to sit here and drink my coffee and think about some things, okay?"
With a shrug, he said, "Yeah, sure," and pulled a magazine about racing cars out of the top desk drawer. The phone rang and he answered it, giving our unit location and his rank and name.
After saying 'yes, sir' a few times, he hung up and said, "That was Captain Errol at the MP desk. He said they're going back on alert. What do I do?"
"What would you do if I weren't here?"
"Uh... Wait for another call?"
"You got it. By the book. Don't sweat it. The MP's go on alert three or four times a week. Did he say why?"
"No. He just said to be ready."
"Then he must be a new guy, too, or he'd know that medevac is always ready."
"What if he calls while I'm making the rounds?"
Sighing, I stood up and said, "If you ask me another question like that I'm going to find you some extra duty tomorrow."
"But..."
"But nothing. You can hear this phone ring halfway to the mess hall at this time of night, and you won't be any farther than one of the next two rooms. Before you say or do anything else, relax and think."
I turned back to the window and sipped my coffee.
After a moment, he said, "Sorry."
With a little wave, I said, "No problem."
When my coffee was gone, I put the cup by the coffee pot and headed for my locker. After a quick shower I hit the sack thinking about Monica. Reluctant to hunt. Reluctant to play. Reluctant in general, it seemed. I wondered why, but the question didn't keep me awake long.
Morning came as early as usual. After mustering on the helipad for roll call and announcements -- none of which seemed to concern me -- we all headed for the mess hall. I noticed that Anna and Monica were sitting at the same table and wondered if that meant that Monica was becoming a little friendlier.
Anna nodded slightly to me, but Monica just watched me go by, so I guessed that 'friendlier' might be a fairly relative description if it applied at all. After filling a tray I stopped at the coffee pot. Anna joined me there, but said nothing as she filled her cup, then left.
Problems? If so, I'd find out later. Time to eat. I sat at a table where Samuels, Beeker, and some others were discussing the discovery of the AK on the service road and what it might mean.
"It means they found an AK, that's all," said Samuels. "There were no tracks, they found where it hit the ground and bounced, and the muzzle was full of dirt, so someone had to have thrown it over the fence. In other words, someone took it away from him and got rid of it where it wouldn't get back to him."
"But they didn't find a body, Sarge," said Beeker. "If one of our guys did it, why didn't they find a body?"
"They found a VC in the ville cemetery," said Samuels.
Beeker asked, "Do they think it was him?"
"They don't know."
"Maybe he blew up in his hole," said Private Adley.
"Nah. There'd be something left of him in the hole. Grenades can't make you disappear. Anyway, none of the grenades went off in the hole," said Beeker. "Whitman said so. He's an MP and he was out there."
Adley shrugged and grinned as he said, "Well, then, maybe one of the ghosts got him."
Beeker snorted a skeptical grunt and said, "Yeah, sure. Why the hell would a ghost bother to toss the rifle over the fence?"
"Why wouldn't he?" asked Adley. "That's assuming that there are ghosts, of course, and that everybody who's reported one isn't nuts."
Uh-huh. I waited with some amusement to see how Sgt. Samuels and Corporal Beeker would take such words from a Private. Their dour looks alerted Adley to the fact that he'd essentially called Samuels and Beeker nuts and he attempted to backpedal quickly.
"That is, I mean, well... Look, uh, I didn't really mean that I thought they were nuts, but maybe they just thought they saw ghosts, y'know? Lotsa people think they've seen ghosts. No big deal, right?"
As Adley tried to backfill his faux pas, I saw Colonel Bender stop at Anna's table for a few moments, then approach ours.
"Heads up," I said softly. "Bender's coming."
We all began to stand up, but Bender waved us back down and said to me, "You won't be going to Major Corinth's office today. Get with Captain Wilson and find something to do around Medevac."
With a glance past him at Anna, who was talking to Monica at that moment, I shrugged and said, "Okay, Colonel."
He nodded and left us and I looked at Anna again. She shrugged and gave me a questioning look with a tiny shake of her head that I returned with a shrug of resignation.
Samuels asked, "Wasn't her idea, huh?"
"Doesn't look that way."
"That means something's up." Waving a fork at everybody else at the table, he asked, "Anybody hear anything out of ops this morning?"
A chorus of negative responses was his answer.
"Well, that don't mean nothin'," said Washington. "Bender mighta heard about what some bush outfit's gonna do today an' wants everybody ready in case they step in some deep shit." He paused thoughtfully, then added, "We got sixteen birds flight-ready. If Bender's keepin' you in 'cause he thinks he's gonna need everybody today... Oh, man. He's gettin' ready for some bad shit."
Washington was right. We could fit six stretchers aboard a UH-1D, so any operation that could require all of our birds would likely be a combined sweep with two companies or more. I got up and went to Anna's table.
"Major," I said, "Colonel Bender said I'm to stick around ops today."
"So he told me," she said. "What's up?"
"Don't know, ma'am, but if he's keeping us all in, it could be big."
She nodded. "Yes. Very big. I guess I'll plan on spending some time in the ER later. Do I have to tell you to be careful?"
Shaking my head, I said, "No, ma'am. Thanks for the thought, though."
Looking past her at Monica, I said, "Hi, LT."
Pausing in cutting some ham, she looked up and said, "Hi, yourself. What she said. Be careful."
"Will do, ma'am."
"And thank you," she added.
Nodding, I said, "You're welcome. I'll get back to my breakfast now."
As I approached my table and the expectant looks of the others, I shook my head and said, "They haven't heard anything, either."
"Figures," said Washington around a mouthful of egg, "Prob'ly won't nobody tell us nothin' 'till they tell us to saddle up and haul ass."
After breakfast I took my coffee canteen to the latrine and scrubbed it out with a bottle brush purloined from the mess hall. After filling it and putting it back with my field gear, I got another cup of coffee and went to find Captain Wilson.
He was sitting in the observation room upstairs, sipping coffee and studying some area maps. When I appeared at the top of the stairwell, he waved at the chair across from him and I took it.
"Did you come up here to ask me about what's going on, Sarge?"
"Nope," I said. "I know what's going on."
Wilson laughed and asked, "You do, huh? Then maybe you'll tell me?"
"Sure, Cap. We're just waiting for a call, same as always. The only difference is that since breakfast everybody's been expecting a call instead of just waiting for one, so now people are getting tense."
"But not you?"
"No need. If we fly, you'll be driving. I can get tense then. I've gotten so good at it that I don't even have to practice on the ground anymore."
He laughed again and went back to his charts. For the rest of the morning I stuck close to the ops office, but by lunchtime we'd received no dustoff calls.
Some of the guys were looking a little frazzled by then; most seemed to feel that we'd been given a false alert and resented it, although no alert status had been declared. Others guessed that the alert was part of some kind of a ruse. I tinkered in the helicopters and didn't bother guessing.
At lunch, when someone angrily sounded off about being placed on alert, I quietly mentioned that no alert had in fact been declared. Private Lawrence suggested rather accusingly that I might be in on whatever was going on. He then tried to support his suggestion by pointing out my friendships with Major Corinth, Captain Hartley, and Captain Wilson, Bender's cooperation concerning my .45, and my general lack of association with everyone else in the barracks.
A look around the table told me that Lawrence's suspicions hadn't fallen on completely deaf ears. While Samuels said, "Bullshit," and Beeker halfheartedly said, "Yeah, really," a number of the other gazes at the table reflected thoughts similar to Lawrence's.
I said, "Yeah, well, if any of you can believe that, you aren't bright enough to hang out with me, anyway. They'd have no reason to tell Major Corinth anything about a big operation in the bush and even less reason to tell me, a buck sergeant. If anyone in medevac knows anything, it'll be Colonel Bender. Somebody might have told him to be a little more ready than usual today, but he didn't think it was worth an alert."
Not ready to drop it, Lawrence asked, "Well, what about the rest of it? Like how you hang with officers all the time?"
Sighing, I asked, "Okay, what about it, Lawrence? You feeling deprived or something? Can't you find anybody else in the unit to be your friend?"
Samuels chuckled and Beeker snorted a laugh and said, "Maybe he's just jealous 'cause Corinth is a sexy redhead, Sarge. Maybe he thinks you and her..." he pitched his voice and parodied a motown song called 'Me and Mrs. Jones' with the words "...have a thaaannng goin' on."
"Yeah, right," I said. "Like an O-4's gonna risk her career by playing with an E-5 in a hospital full of doctors."
"Stranger things have happened," said Samuels. He chuckled and added, "Pretty recently, too, now that we got ghosts in the ER and early this morning they found another Cong in the cemetery down in the ville. They think he might be the guy who was blowin' up the woods last night."
The table conversation shifted to the topic of ghosts and I made it through the remainder of lunch without having to directly answer any more questions or comments from Lawrence or anyone else.
I took my tray to the bus bins, then headed back to the ops office. As I was about to put fresh coffee in my canteen, Bender came back from lunch and stopped by the office door.
"I was wondering why you carried two canteens," he said.
"Colonel, regs only say that I have to have one with water in it. They don't say that I can't add one with coffee in it."
He looked at his watch and said, "Well, you may not need it today. I'll turn you loose to help Major Corinth if I don't hear anything by one."
Before I could answer, he stepped into his office. It was twelve-thirty. I finished filling my coffee canteen on general principles and put it back with my field gear, then went upstairs to kill half an hour with the binoculars.
Chapter Forty-two
As I sat gazing through the binoculars at the treeline, I considered the previous night. Monica just wasn't my type; no getting around that. The idea of a timid vampire with a fear of flying made me chuckle, which made Wilson glance up from his charts. When I didn't elaborate, he returned to them.
Anna had wanted to party as a threesome. With her there to deal with Monica, it hadn't seemed such a bad idea at first, but Monica had been tense as a virgin for whatever reason and had seemed relieved when I departed.
I wondered briefly whether it was just me, or men in general, that spooked her, then decided that wasn't really an issue, since I had no intention of being placed in that position with her again.
Then I wondered how the rest of their evening had gone. Probably well enough, I figured, remembering how Anna and Marian had entertained themselves around me as much as with me.
A little before one, Beeker came to the top of the stairs, pointed at me, and said, "Bender wants you," then went back down.
As I got to my feet, Wilson asked, "Trouble?"
"Don't think so," I answered. "Haven't done anything. He's probably just going to send me to Major Corinth's office to finish up some paperwork."
And so it was. Before I could enter his office, Bender held up a hand, pointed at the corridor, and said, "Head over to Major Corinth's office, Sergeant."
When I got there, Sgt. Carter said Anna was out, so I headed for the desk in the supply room and got to work. The solitude seemed good for me; I had most of the forms finished by ten to four.
As I loaded one of the last three forms into the typewriter, I felt Anna's presence enter the ward hallway. Some twenty paces sounded before the door opened and she entered the supply room, stopped just inside the doorway, and stared at the pile of forms next to my typewriter.
She didn't look happy. Gesturing at the larger pile of forms, her gaze narrowed and she started to say something.
Getting to my feet, I put my right hand on the pile and headed off whatever she might have said with, "This stack is ready for signatures. I have three more to go."
Her surprise morphed to minor embarrassment that reddened her slightly, then she looked up and said, "Oh."
It was an awkward moment. She'd assumed the worst, and that startled me a bit. It also made me wonder why, but with paper-thin walls and Sgt. Carter just down the hall, I thought it best to wait until we were alone to discuss that.
I said, "If you'll take these and check them over, I'll bring the others in shortly and drop them at Personnel before five."
Anna again seemed about to say something, then she nodded, took the stack, and left the room. I banged out the last few forms, checked them over once, turned off the typewriter, and headed for her office.
After Anna and Carter had looked over the forms and Anna had signed them, I headed to Personnel. It was twenty to five, so rather than go back to Anna's office, I went to the mess hall for a slightly early dinner.
Bender was there, talking with a couple of other officers over some charts and coffee. He saw me come in and his eyebrows went up slightly. I was more than halfway through my steak dinner and the mess hall was starting to fill up a bit when the gaggle of officers broke up and Bender brought his coffee to my table.
Waving me to remain seated as he sat down across from me, he asked, "Major Corinth let you off early?"
"I finished the forms, Colonel. Dropped them at Personnel on the way here. Thought I'd eat early and avoid the crowd."
"Samuels tells me that you do a lot of that. Avoiding crowds, I mean."
Looking for any hidden meaning in his expression, I said, "I guess I do at that, sir."
He sipped his coffee, then asked, "Why?"
I considered my answer, then settled for, "Just do. May I ask why Samuels was reporting on my social life?"
"Because I asked him how you were fitting in."
"I don't think I've been here long enough to really 'fit in', Colonel, and I kind of doubt that I'll make much progress along that line, anyway."
Bender sat back in his chair and regarded me for a moment before he said, "Maybe you'd better explain that, Sergeant."
Shrugging, I said, "I don't need much company, sir."
"I see. Do you have a hard time making friends, Sergeant?"
"Well, I don't really try very hard, sir. On duty or off, I prefer to let things like that occur on their own."
Samuels and Beeker entered the mess hall and glanced our direction as they walked to the serving line.
Bender asked, "And do they?"
"Occasionally, Colonel. Not frequently, of course, but the friendships that do form are pretty stable."
Sipping his coffee again, he said, "'Stable.' I don't often hear that word used to describe friendships."
I let his statement go by as a comment instead of a question. When he saw that I didn't appear to have anything to say on that matter, Bender nodded and stood up with his cup.
"Does Major Corinth have anything else for you to do?"
"She didn't mention anything else, sir, but she probably won't be shy about trying to borrow me again if Carter gets behind."
He smiled and said, "No, she isn't the shy type. Later, Sergeant."
"You aren't going to have dinner, Colonel?"
Shaking his head as he looked around, he said, "Later, after the rush."
Beeker and Samuels came to the table as I finished my spinach.
When Samuels put his tray down across from me, Beeker said, "Oh, wait a minute, Sergeant Samuels. We'd better find out if this is an officers-only table."
Said one way, something like that can be a teasing joke. Said another way, it sounds caustic. Beeker's way sounded caustic to me.
Pointing my fork at Beeker, I said, "If you're going to sit and eat, fine. If you're going to say shit like that, find another table."
Samuels gave Beeker a desultory sort of look and sat down. Beeker hesitated for a moment, then also sat down.
"What did Bender want?" asked Samuels.
"He asked if Major Corinth had anything else for me to do."
"That's all?" asked Beeker.
"No. He also asked how I was fitting in around here. I told him it was too early to tell."
During the ensuing silence, I cleaned up the last of my spinach, tossed my silverware on my tray, and reached for my Coke. Anna came in and nodded as she passed. I nodded in return.
Samuels and Beeker glanced to see who I was nodding to and Samuels quietly asked, "Will she be coming over here?"
"Probably not, when she sees me taking my tray to the bins."
"You're leaving?" asked Beeker.
Gesturing at my tray, I said, "I'm finished. Why not?"
"I... We thought you might want to talk a while," said Samuels.
"Okay. Go for it. What's on your mind?"
"I don't mean about anything in particular. Just talk."
Monica entered the mess hall. She saw Anna in the serving line before she saw me. When she nodded at me, I returned the nod. Again the guys looked to see who received my attention. Both of their gazes returned to me; Samuels wore one of mild surprise and Beeker looked irritated.
Resting my arms on the table, I said, "Okay. Shoot."
Beeker said, "Huh?"
"Talk. Pick a subject. Anything but sports, religion, cars, or politics."
"Uh, well..."
"Damn," said Beeker, "That doesn't leave much, does it?"
I nodded. "Yeah, I guess that pretty well cuts out everything except maybe science, history, music, literature, and art."
"Why not sports?" asked Beeker, his irritated gaze becoming a glower.
"Because I don't know or give a damn who plays on what team in what game, so I wouldn't have anything to say. No religion or politics because you won't like what I have to say. Cars are just a way of getting around and it doesn't matter a fat rat's ass to me what anybody drives."
"Well," said Samuels, "What the hell do you care about?"
"Here? Getting the job done and getting back in one piece."
"Anywhere," said Beeker. "Not just here."
"Women. Money. Entertainment."
With a grin, Samuels said, "Well, we can agree on that."
"But I don't talk about women, either."
"What? Why the hell not?"
"I just don't."
Setting his fork down hard on his tray, Beeker said, "Okay, then, what about money?"
Nodding, I said, "Good choice. The current official rate of inflation is twelve percent, which means it's actually closer to fifteen percent. That means that today's dollar is worth about sixty cents in terms of what it will buy compared to the dollar of 1948. This war is costing us over a billion dollars a day, so next year about this time a dollar will be worth about fifty-six cents. Maybe."
Beeker simply stared at me.
Samuels softly said, "A billion a day? That's not fuckin' possible."
"Sure it is," I said as I picked up my tray. "Read 'Time' and 'Newsweek'. Read the 'Wall Street Journal'. They're all in the library. Later, guys."
The clock on the wall above Bender's door read 5:10 as I entered the ops office. Bender was at his desk, as was the first-shift CQ. I retrieved my paperback from my locker, then got a Coke and went up to the ob deck as the approach of the courier chopper from 12th Evac began to become audible.
Well to the west of the previous night's VC location, I saw an aura appear and grabbed the binoculars. For whatever reason, they didn't magnify my view of the aura with the surroundings. While everything else seemed to get bigger, the aura remained tiny. Oh, well.
Sighting past the corner of the roof and through a fence post, I mentally marked the spot, then looked for something unique about the surrounding foliage. Nothing jumped out at me, so I settled for counting the number of fence posts from the west gate that nobody ever used.
The aura retracted into the ground after the chopper landed and the courier bags and other stuff had been taken inside. I went downstairs, put my book away, shuffled things in my locker until Lister and Everett left the barracks, then closed my locker and went into ghost mode.
Anna and Monica were still in the mess hall, almost finished with their dinners. Both seemed somewhat surprised to see me arrive in aural form. I further surprised them and everyone else by lifting a nurse named Clements from the serving line and holding her near the ceiling as we flew around the room once. When I put her back in line, her legs gave out and she clung to a nearby corporal for support.
While everybody's attention was otherwise occupied, I stopped at Anna's table and whispered, "Want to hunt early? Found another one by the fence just now."
Both ladies continued facing the serving line, but Monica's eyes flicked to me as Anna nodded slightly.
"Give me about thirty," she whispered.
"Yas'm. West gate area. Later."
Half an hour. I sneaked a handful of cookies from the serving line, then picked up a napkin to wrap them in and headed for ICU. Hardesty's door was open and a nurse was doing something with his arm. Nobody was near the nurse's station, so I hunkered behind it and unghosted, then stood up.
"Hey!" said a nurse who appeared in a doorway, "What are you doing behind that partition?"
Holding up the cookies, I said, "Leaving a couple of these as a bribe."
As I turned, she said, "Oh, it's you. What kind are they?"
"Chocolate chip."
She came over and picked two of them, then grinningly waved me toward Hardesty's room as she said, "These'll buy you about twenty minutes, Sergeant. He gets some of his meds after dinner."
Hardesty greeted me enthusiastically and complained about isolation and hard-assed nurses as he worked his way through one of the cookies.
"Thought this would be like a vacation," he said. "Nope. No way in hell. I'm bored spitless except when I get tortured by beautiful women four times a day. Needles and pills and new bandages. What fun."
Noting the small stack of books on his night table, I said, "Don't forget the sponge baths. I think you'll survive, LT, and sooner or later they'll have to let you go."
When I left Hardesty, I ghosted in an empty office, flew out of the building, and headed for the spot I'd marked. Even knowing the number of fenceposts made the job of finding the hole only slightly easier; the VC had done a first-rate job of concealing his position with live vegetation.
As I rose to sit on a branch and wait for Anna, I saw that one of the nearby bigger trees had been hollowed out near the top and went to check it out. The tree had died and bugs or birds had done the rest; I couldn't see the bottom of the hole down the inside of the trunk.
Cool. A place to hide a rifle and some ammo. I'd run a branch through the web belt and the rifle's sling and hang them inside the tree. To keep things clean and dry I could swipe a small tarp or use a trash bag.
Anna rose into the sky from an open doorway and headed my direction at a reasonable speed. As she approached, I dropped quietly to the ground and stood beside the VC's spiderhole. Anna joined me, her dagger already drawn. On the silent count of three, we each grabbed some hatch cover and heaved it backward.
The shocked and confused VC blinked at the sudden sunlight as Anna drove her dagger into his heart. In total shock, he stared blankly at her for a moment, then looked down at his chest, then began to collapse back onto the seat he'd dug against the back wall of the hole.
We grabbed him and lifted up to a hefty branch, where Anna broke off a smaller branch and used it to plug the VC as she wiped her blade clean and put it away, then took out her collapsable cup and filled it.
As I filled my own cup, I said, "He had a couple of grenades. We can pop one like we did last night if you want, but I'm keeping the other one, his rifle, and his ammo."
Nodding, she said, "The nurse you carried around the mess hall --Lieutenant Clements -- is something of a celebrity now. Close to a hundred people saw it happen."
With a grin, I said, "Great! Here's to hyperactive ghosts, then," as we clacked our plastic cups together.
A couple of cups of VC blood later, I dropped down to the hole, grabbed his equipment, and returned to the branch. After suspending his rifle and web gear inside the hollowed tree, I tossed one of the grenades a bit farther west, then we hauled the VC into the sky above the fenceline.
Proceeding slowly toward the village got the desired result; four guys ran out of the ops office and boarded Wilson's gunship, then the bird took off and headed our way.
Anna had a grip on one of the VC's ankles and I had one of his wrists as we carried him between us. The guy's baggy shirt billowed around his face and arms as the chopper neared. One of the guys aboard the bird snapped frame after frame with a camera as Wilson trailed us only fifty or sixty feet behind for some moments, then tried to move in for a closer look.
We dropped to within the tops of the trees to keep them at a safe distance; choppers are fairly stable, but having to compensate for a gust of wind might have made Wilson tilt the blades dangerously close to us.
The chopper fell back a bit as we neared the village, possibly to avoid having anyone think that it had anything to do with the flying VC. A fair number of people below watched as we hovered above the cemetery for a few moments, then let the VC fall from about a hundred feet.
His head and heels hit the walkway at about the same time as he landed flat on his back. A woman fainted by the cemetery gate and the man who'd been tending nearby graves stumbled backward a pace to wind up sitting on someone's headstone.
As a small crowd of braver souls gathered below, Wilson angled his gunship for several minutes so that someone in the doorway could take more pictures, then the chopper turned and retraced its path back to the base.
A tendril of Anna's aura gestured at the scene below as she said, "Well, we've given them something to talk about. Shall we stay or go?"
"Go, I guess. Got any plans for the evening?"
"No, no plans," she laughed as we started back. "You?"
"Well, I thought I might ask if you wanted some company."
"That would be nice, I think. Let's go to my room and discuss it."
Chapter Forty-three
We kept our eyes open on the way back, but no more Chucks popped up. Slipping into the hospital through the ER's automatic doors caused a nurse to leave her desk to study the doors.
She waved her hand at them and they opened, then closed. Shaking her head, she went back to her desk. As she sat down, I placed my hand into the infrared field and the doors opened again.
The nurse's eyebrows went up, but she remained seated. When I removed my hand and the doors closed, she continued to gaze at them for a moment, then looked around nervously.
The exercise suddenly seemed supremely, irritatingly trivial to me and I moved toward the corridor. Anna followed and caught up as I silently led the way to her BOQ room, then she unlocked the door and let us in.
Once inside, she unghosted and asked, "What's the matter?"
Also unghosting, I said, "Nothing's really the matter. Teasing the nurse suddenly seemed pretty meaningless, that's all. Especially compared to getting on with an evening with you, milady Major."
Anna smiled at me as she made us drinks and said, "Why, thank you, Sergeant." Handing me a spiced rum, she added, "You always seem to have something nice to say to me, even after all these months."
Grinning at her, I said, "You're just as smart and beautiful as you were the day I met you, so it really isn't too hard to come up with compliments now and then."
She returned my grin and kissed me before sitting on the bed.
"Interesting," she said. "You said 'smart and beautiful', not the other way around, or simply 'beautiful'. Should I think that means something?"
I shrugged and sat beside her.
"Shows my priorities, I guess. Mom always said never to get involved with women I wouldn't want to get stuck with forever."
Anna snickered. "Your mother really said that?"
"Yup. Mum's a very practical lady. She didn't waste a minute trying to tell a teenager to keep it in his pants; instead, she preached caution and pointed out a few examples of what can happen."
"Examples?"
I nodded. "Her favorite example was Billy Ray Charleston, class of '65. He chased a second-string cheerleader until she caught him."
Anna grinned at that and asked, "...And..?"
"And she got pregnant and he married her. They had twins; a boy and a girl. They moved in with his parents for a couple of years and Gloria got pregnant again. Now they live in a trailer. Billy Ray's life since high school has been a string of cheap jobs, a stack of bills that triples every year, three squalling brats, and a two-hundred-pound wife who'll tell anyone who'll listen how miserable her life is."
With a chuckle, Anna asked, "Plumped out a bit, did she?"
Holding my hands a yard apart, I said, "Oh, yeah. Maybe three or four bits, last time I saw her, and she has the personality of a bear with a toothache." I leaned to kiss Anna and added, "When I bring you home, Mom'll know I was paying attention."
Anna's eyebrow went up and she said, "Uh... Woah, there, Sarge. You're planning to take me home to meet your mother?"
Holding up a hand, I said, "That wasn't a marriage proposal, Anna. I just meant that my mother would be very impressed with you, and I would like to have you two meet each other sometime." In a more confidential tone, I added, "Just to reassure her that I'm not hanging out with the wrong kind of women, y'know. Some of 'em can be kind of predatory."
Meeting my gaze, Anna snickered, then she laughed.
"Predatory, huh?"
"Oh, yeah," I said with a definite nod. "Met some women like that back in Fayetteville. One had been married three times in three years. Lucy Ferrin. She preferred guys with high-risk MOS's and tried to nail me because I'm a medic. We're known for a high casualty rate, y'know."
I paused to sip my drink.
With a cocked head and questioning look, Anna asked, "Well?"
"Well, what? You mean; did I try her on for size?"
"If you want to call it that."
Shaking my head, I said, "No. Lucy was well-built and wasn't ugly, but she called everybody 'sweetie' or 'honey', which is how people who don't really give a rat's ass about other people avoid having to remember names. She showed no interest in me at all until she heard I was a medic, then she was full of praise for that sort of work and almost obnoxiously pushy about trying to entice me away from the group. Instant personality clash. To me, she sounded and acted like a hooker."
"Maybe she was."
Nodding, I said, "Good chance, I think. Part-time, at least. When I went to the bar for refills, the Army-retiree who owned the place told me that Lucy was a three-time Army widow who had to wait tables in bars because she didn't know how to do anything else and that she'd pissed away thirty thousand in insurance money. Truth or not, I didn't like her, so it didn't matter."
Anna smiled slightly and said, "If she was good-looking at all, a lot of guys your age and away from home -- most, probably -- would have nailed her anyway."
Smiling back, I said, "That might have been a lot of fun, but while I don't mind giving the VD shots, I never really wanted to get them, and ol' Lucy just didn't seem worth it."
We spent a warm and fuzzy -- and often exciting -- evening in Anna's room, then she tossed me out around nine, claiming to have to spend some time preparing for an early meeting with the heads of several other wards.
About halfway down the hall toward the main corridor, I heard a phone ring in a room ahead on my left. Seconds later, that room's door opened and Monica Brooks peeked out.
I found that sequence of events rather interesting. Unless it had been a wrong number -- which I felt was highly unlikely on a military base with such a limited number of phones -- it seemed to me that someone had called Monica to let her know I was heading her way.
We were alone in the hallway, so I said, "Hi, Monica."
Nodding, she said, "Hi. Uh, do you have to be anyplace?"
"Nope. What's up?"
She bit her lip, glanced up and down the hallway, and waved me into her room.
Once I was inside, she switched to ghost mode and said, "You too, Ed."
I did so, then said, "Okay. Why?"
Her aura moved back to the door and opened it slightly, then opened it further as she said, "I'd like you to come with me. If you don't mind, that is."
Shrugging -- although she couldn't see me do it -- I said, "Okay. Lead on, ma'am."
A few minutes later we slipped out of the building and Monica lifted into the sky. I followed her closely as she leveled off at about fifty feet and headed toward the jungle beyond the fenceline.
"Where are we going?" I asked.
"Out," she said. "Just out. Away from the base. Away from everything for a while. I needed to get out, but... Well, you already know I don't like to fly by myself."
We flew for a couple of minutes on a northeastward course until Monica's aura suddenly began descending toward a stream. We followed it some distance further and a small, almost perfectly circular pond appeared just ahead of us.
A bomb must have landed just about smack in the middle of the stream, judging from the way the stream fed the pond on one side and drained it on the other, and the pond appeared to be a fairly recent addition to the jungle. The vegetation hadn't overgrown the edges of it yet.
"This must be the where that jet dumped it's load last week," I said. "It startled the hell out of everybody."
Monica said, "It is. Jackson saw it happen on his way back from somewhere or other. He said there was a clamp problem and the jet had to do a roll to shake it loose."
Once we'd landed where the stream fed the pond, Monica started to say something, but I hushed her with a raised hand and listened closely to our surroundings for some moments as I looked around in the moonlight.
Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, so I lowered my hand and said, "Okay. Go ahead."
Monica regarded me for a moment, then said, "I saw this place on the supply flight to 12th the other day. I wasn't sure I could find it again. Not on my own, that is."
Shrugging, I said, "You did fine. It's kind of nice, isn't it? Quiet, too, and being in the bottom of this valley makes it cooler. Are we going to stay in ghost mode?"
Unghosting, she said, "I guess not. That's what you call it now? Ghost mode?"
I also unghosted as I said, "That's what I've always called it. What do you call it?"
"I don't call it anything, I guess. It's just something I've learned to do and I never have any reason to do it unless I'm with another... vampire."
Her brief hesitation to say the word 'vampire' had been noticeable enough. I said nothing as I knelt by the stream. A multitude of tiny auras fled from my approach, then returned as nothing happened to disturb the water.
Monica's footsteps sounded softly in the rubble of the crater rim and she came to stand behind me, which again made the tiny auras flee the streambank.
"They're like a little light show," I said. "Kinda neat."
She made no reply and didn't kneel to join me. After another few seconds of watching the display in the water, I stood up and turned to face her. She stepped back a couple of paces and stood staring at me.
In an attempt to break the conversational ice, I said, "This is a nice place, Monica. Thanks for showing it to me. What did you want to talk about?"
Shrugging, Monica gave me one of those 'oh, nothing, really' expressions and looked around as if studying the dark walls of jungle surrounding us. Several awkward moments passed before she spoke.
"You, uh... You've probably noticed that I'm not the most comfortable person to be around."
Her eyes found mine and I said, "Yeah, I've noticed that you're uncomfortable, but I'm comfortable enough for the moment. Have I said or done something that upset you, Monica? If I did, I'll apologize."
As expected, she protested.
"No! No, Ed, you haven't said or done anything. I'm... Well, this isn't about me being upset about anything. I, uh... I'm just having some trouble coming up with a way to... say what I want to say, that's all."
Nodding, I silently looked around the pond and considered Monica's reluctance as I scuffed the soft, loose dirt with a boot. Some of it was almost powdery.
"Anna called you," I said, "She let you know that I'd left her room, didn't she?"
In almost a whisper, Monica said, "Yes. She did."
"Hm. That would seem to mean she's not against us getting together, then. Is that why we're out here?"
I couldn't tell if she was blushing as she nodded slightly and again almost whispered, "Yes."
"Could I make a suggestion, then?"
She looked up with a questioning expression.
"Let's go swimming," I said. "If the size of this pond is any indication, the water should be deep enough. We can talk a while and cool off a bit."
Her eyes got big before they surveyed the pond and returned to me.
"But... But we don't know what's in there..."
Shrugging, I said, "If anything in the water isn't big enough to take an arm or a leg off, it couldn't hurt us much."
With a firmer tone, she asked, "What if it is, though? There are alligators over here, aren't there?"
Unbuttoning my shirt, I said, "Nope. Crocodiles. But I've never seen one at this altitude, and not long ago this was just a stream a few feet wide. Crocs like rivers and mud flats."
Monica didn't tell me to stop unbuttoning my shirt. I took it off and started untying my boots. She said nothing about that, either, although she made no moves of her own to undress.
When I began to unbuckle my belt, she cleared her throat and said, "Uh... I don't know if..."
I stopped and looked at her.
"She told you what I said, didn't she?" I asked.
Suddenly attentive to my face, rather than my hands, Monica asked, "What? Who, Anna?"
Sounding relieved, I said, "Never mind. Sorry."
Taking a step toward me, Monica said insistently, "No. Don't say 'never mind'. What did you say about me?"
Doing my best to look reluctant, I said, "Ah. Well. Jeez, it was right after we met, you know? I mean, well..."
She took another step as she asked, "What, Ed?"
Taking a quick step of my own, I embraced her and whispered, "Sorry. There's nothing to tell, ma'am. It was just a cheap trick to get this close to you. Do you feel up to a kiss?"
For a few moments she looked up at me almost sharply as she rather obviously tried to decide whether my real trick was in trying to avoid repeating whatever I'd said to Anna.
"Yes," she said abruptly.
A few kisses later, she pulled slightly away and seemed to regard me thoughtfully for a short time, then she said, "I got the impression you liked women like Anna."
Shrugging, I said, "Sure, I do. Does that have to mean that I can't like you, too?"
"I mean, she's, uh..."
Monica held a hand well over her head to indicate height, then cupped and hefted imaginary breasts at what I thought was a ridiculous distance from her chest.
Laughing, I said, "She isn't quite that well-endowed. What the hell do things like that matter, anyway? The object of sex is pleasure. Pleasing each other. The size of your boobs doesn't mean anything in that regard, does it? They work, don't they?"
She snorted a short laugh.
"Yeah. They 'work'."
"Then let's see 'em, Lieutenant. Be decisive. You're never gonna get laid tonight at this rate."
Unbuttoning her top button, she said, "If you laugh at me -- even once -- I'll..."
"What? Shave my head and send me to Vietnam? Monica, one of my girlfriends back in the States called hers 'fried eggs', but they didn't seem to keep her from having a good time. She used to ride me for hours. Damn near killed me a few times."
Laughing, Monica said, "Yeah, sure she did," as she took her fatigue shirt off. If her bra was any indication, she did have rather small breasts. Instead of removing it, she toed off her shoes, then began unbuckling her belt.
Hesitating, she asked, "What about yours?"
Shrugging, I let my pants fall and stepped out of them. She did the same. Surprise. Skinny, she wasn't. Just small. The shape of her was actually very nice, especially her legs.
"Wow. Nice legs, lady."
Again appearing to judge the truth of my words, she cocked her head, then straightened, stepped out of her fatigue pants, and stood gazing at me for some moments.
"What about those?" she asked, pointing at my briefs.
Giving her a thoughtful look, I said, "Hm. My briefs against your panties and your bra. Seems to me you need to lose one or the other before you can call us even."
What she did then told me just how insecure she was about her cup size. She hooked her thumbs in the top elastic of her panties and shoved them down, then took them off.
Her remaining piece of clothing -- her white bra -- fairly glowed in the moonlight against her pale skin as she crossed her arms and asked, "Well?"
Well, indeed. I shoved my briefs down and off, then straightened. Monica's wide eyes fixed on my jutting, bouncing staff as I stepped toward her and took her in my arms to unhook her bra and slide it off her shoulders.
Surprise again. While her breasts weren't by any means very large, they were a couple of nice handfuls with prominently large nipples. Perfectly adequate, as far as I was concerned. I ran my thumbs over her nipples and Monica sucked her breath in hissingly.
"Yeah," I said with a grin. "They work fine."
Monica snickered nervously as I knelt before her and kissed and nibbled one of her nipples.
"Taste pretty good, too," I added. "No problems that I can find here, ma'am. Oops. Made that one swell up. Guess I'd better do the other one, too, or you'll be off balance."
She snorted a laugh as I switched nipples and grabbed my head gently to pull me back to my feet. I gave the nipple a last few moments of attention and stood up.
A few kisses and strokings of her shoulders and arms later, I asked, "Do you really give a damn about swimming, ma'am, or would you rather just use me without mercy?"
She snickered. She chuckled, then burst out a laugh and buried her face against my chest as her hands wrapped around my dick and squeezed it gently, then not so gently.
In a soft voice, she said, "I think we can swim later."
Some more kissing and strokings ensued, and when my fingers encountered what seemed enough slick moisture, I leaned down a bit to embrace her and lifted Monica to lower her gently onto me. Her legs wrapped around my waist and her arms encircled my neck as I slid into her a couple of inches at a time until she gasped and clung to me stiffly.
"Need to stop for a minute?" I asked.
Her head shook slightly and she relaxed her grip on my shoulders to impale herself further. Gasping and stopping again once, she then let herself settle completely onto me.
When she looked up, a chunk of her lip was between her teeth and tears were running down her cheeks. At my look of alarm, she embraced me tightly with both her arms and her legs and shook her head quickly.
"No," said Monica in a firm voice. "I'm fine, Ed. It isn't you. It's me."
"What's the matter?"
She shook her head. "Nothing. It's just... been a while. Not since I was in my junior year of college."
Hm. Probably five or six years.
"Well, gee, lady. You almost qualify as a virgin. Thanks for telling me. Now I'll know to take it easy."
Nodding slightly, she said, "Yes, please. That was my first time, and... and it wasn't... fun. Not at all."
"Rape?"
She nodded again and said, "Yes. Well, almost, I guess. A bad decision with the wrong guy. I don't want to talk about it."
"Neither do I. Not just now, anyway."
"Not later, either," she said. "Not ever."
"Want a suggestion, ma'am?"
"Not if it's about that."
I kissed her and said, "It isn't. It's about positions. Whenever possible, get on top and take control of the stick. Most men don't know shit about sex, y'know."
Monica giggled, then started laughing as she clung to me, which generated some interesting sensations at our joining. As her spate of laughter subsided, I knelt and leaned back, then managed to straighten my legs without disconnecting us.
Once I was flat on my shirt and pants, I said, "Ah, that's much better, ma'am. My legs were beginning to complain. Try posting up and down a bit and get yourself used to that thing, then lean back a little and try posting that way a few times. Try to remember to kiss me now and then, too. I don't want to feel too neglected when you start getting all wrapped up in what's going on inside you."
Spreading her knees a bit, Monica managed to get another half inch or so of me inside her before she said, "You seem pretty damned sure of yourself."
"Nope. Sure of you, Monica. You're a fairly determined woman or you wouldn't be impaled on me at all. Setting up Anna's phone call and leading me out here took a lot of nerve, and I'm glad to have you aboard, Lieutenant. Now all you have to do is make the absolute best of it, and since you said you were kind of new at it, I'm making suggestions about how to use the thing that's tickling the inside of your belly. Post on it some to get the feel of it and then lean back a bit and find your hot spot."
Pulling her down for a kiss, I added in a confidential tone, "Tell you what, Lieutenant Brooks, ma'am; if you've never done that before, you'll thank me later."
Sitting back upright, she began posting slowly as she asked, "What the hell is this stuff about a 'hot spot'?"
I gave her a mildly amazed look on general principles, but it wasn't all faked. It never failed to surprise me when a woman didn't know about that spot. Even though it wasn't mentioned in high school health classes, you'd think that news about something like that would get around some.
"Stop looking at me like that and just tell me," said Monica.
Shrugging as best I could while lying on my back with her impaled on me, I said, "Okay. About three or four inches inside you -- on the topside, inside, y'know? -- there's a special spot. Every woman has one. Find it and rub it a bit and it'll make you go off like a rocket."
Monica stopped posting and peered down at me narrowly as she flatly stated, "You are SO full of shit. Don't you think I'd know if I had something like that inside me? Don't tell me you believe all that 'G-spot' nonsense?"
Grinning as I realized what was likely to happen to her, I said, "Yeah, well, gee, maybe you're right, Lieutenant Brooks, ma'am. Being a medically trained officer and all, I guess you'd probably know all there is to know about what's inside people."
My tone made her cock her head and peer at me even more examiningly for a moment, then she began posting again.
I tweaked and thumbed her nipples and let my fingertips slide down the front of her, then let them trail lightly down her thighs as I softly said, "But I still think it's in there, so prove me wrong. Lean back some and see if anything feels different for you about halfway inside."
"Maybe later," she said. "This feels good enough for now."
She caught her own words and froze, looked down at our connection, and then -- almost to herself, I guess -- muttered, "It really does!" in a somewhat surprised tone.
"I was under the impression that it's supposed to."
"I mean..." She bit her lip again and said, "Well, I was expecting something else, that's all. Like before."
Shaking my head slightly, I said, "Nope. No hymen, no hassle. You were ready and I slid right in. As I understand it, that's the way things are supposed to work. Can you describe what you're feeling in there?"
Monica swatted my thigh lightly and said, "No! Well, yes, I think I probably could, but that's kind of personal, you know."
Good. She was getting into the humor of it all. Fully impaled on me and sliding herself up and down on me, she gave me a big 'accomplishment' grin until she stroked a little too hard and really rammed herself down on me.
Her mouth and eyes opened wider and she gasped for breath for a moment, then bit her lip again and lifted up a bit.
"D-damn!" she muttered. "That... that thing's pretty big, isn't it?"
"It may be a tad bigger than you're used to," I said.
She giggled and said, "Yeah, I guess you could say that."
"Ride it, ma'am. Use it really well. I want you to remember this moment as long as you live. And would you please try that leaning-back trick I suggested?"
Sighing, she asked, "You really believe in that, don't you?"
With a grin of my own, I said, "So will you after you find it, Cap."
Monica laughed and asked, "Cap? As in 'Captain'?"
"It's a field promotion. You gonna turn it down?"
"What comes with it? More pay? Better hours?"
"Sorry, ma'am. You're riding what comes with it, and I want you to try leaning back before the damned thing goes off."
Instead of leaning back, she stopped moving and asked, "Are you getting close? Should I hold still?"
With a big sigh, I put my hands on her breasts and pushed her back until my arms were straight, then said, "Now, post. Long strokes. We're going to find your spot."
Sighing exasperatedly, she gave me an 'oh, all right, we'll try it your way' look and began moving her hips again. When she looked down, she seemed to become fascinated with watching me slide in and out of her. For some moments we continued this way, then her eyes met mine again.
I don't think she'd realized that she'd begun moving slightly faster or that her lips were more swollen than before. She probably didn't realize that she was breathing a bit faster and shallower, too.
The head of my dick felt the slight difference in the feel of things as it encountered her spot, though, and it twinged every time it passed over the region, which made it buck a bit.
When Monica's eyes closed and her hips began a rapid, short movement that kept the head of my dick pretty much in the same place, her head tilted back a bit and her breath began to hiss between her clenched teeth.
Her reactions were having an effect on me, and I began to wonder if she'd peak before I squirted. A few more strokes and she let forth a soft keening sound as her hips moved even faster and her mouth fell open so she could breathe pantingly.
With a soft scream, Monica stiffened suddenly and her hip motions became a slow, deliberate rubbing of the head of my dick on her inner spot for some moments, then she let her breath out in a series of soft, shrieking gasps and collapsed across my chest.
Monica's rasping pantings for breath were happy music in my left ear for some time as she came down from her crashing orgasm. I stroked her and kissed her shoulder, then licked it. She tasted REAL good. I licked her throat and kissed the spot.
She giggled and asked how she tasted.
"Good, Cap. Real good. Was I right?"
Giggling again, then laughing breathlessly, she nodded wordlessly against my shoulder.
"Great. Now it's my turn."
"Oh, no. Give me a minute. I can't get back up there yet."
"You don't have to," I said, rolling us over so I was on top. As she looked up at me, I said, "I'll do all the work, ma'am. You just lie there and relax while I ram that big ol' pole way deep inside you, kiss you hard, and cum like a firehose."
Which I did. Holding her shoulders to steady her against my thrusts, I rammed my dick into Monica the dozen or so hard strokes necessary to finally trigger it, then kissed her deeply as the tingling began in my heels. It quickly traveled upward to make my dick spasm and my gooey gift gush into her.
She felt me throbbing and jetting into her and her legs quickly wrapped tightly around mine to pull me inside her as deeply as possible while her arms locked around me in a rather crushing bear hug.
When the uncontrollable squirting stopped, I stroked slightly to tease out the last driblets out of me, then again shoved my dick deeply into her and kissed her.
The kiss turned into a feathery brushing of lips as I asked, "Mind if we stay locked together like this until it's soft again? I'd kind of like to make sure you get it all."
Monica giggled softly as she nodded, then she kissed me firmly and squeezed me in her embrace.
Chapter Forty-four
I hadn't quite completely deflated when Monica patted my shoulder and asked me to roll off her. Doing so, I watched her watch me slide out of her and wave at her in the moonlight.
She giggled and reached for it, then released it quickly as her grip milked out a last little bit of my juice. Giggling again, she held her hand away from us, her fingers spread, to let the gooey droplet elongate and finally fall to the ground.
Settling back on my clothing, I stared up at the sky and sighed as I said, "That was damned good, milady. I feel pretty drained at the moment."
"God, there must have been a lot of it," she said.
Looking at her, I saw that she was trying to contain my donation with a finger over her slit.
"Could be. You inspired me, ma'am."
Glancing at me with a grin, she captured a dribble of me on a finger and raised it to her lips. Her tongue cautiously sought the driblet, gathered a tipful and slid back into her mouth.
"Well?" I asked, "How is it?"
"Salty," she said. "Tangy, but sweet, too. Not bitter, like... Like his was."
Gathering a knee under her, she sat up completely and said disgustedly, "He made me suck him off, too." Then she sighed and said, "Aw, hell. Who am I kidding? I went there knowing what would happen. Hell, that's the reason I went. I wanted to be like the other girls. I was tired of the ragging."
She didn't look at me as she stood up and said, "I went to Andy's apartment. I let things build up on the couch and then, when he made suggestions, I let him think they were his ideas. When he unzipped, I didn't leave. I could have."
"You sure about that?"
Monica nodded. "Yeah. He wasn't like that. He'd have let me go, even then." Turning to face me, she said, "He didn't really make me do a damned thing. I sucked him and fucked him. Does that make me a slut?"
Sitting up so I could shrug decently, I said, "Depends on how you feel about it, I guess. You fucked me just now and I don't think you're a slut. 'Course, that's just my own -- and totally unbiased, I might add -- opinion. Lieutenant, ma'am."
She snickered and said, "Right. Your cum is dribbling down my legs and you're unbiased."
Swiping a finger to pick up quite a bit of the stuff, she hesitated only briefly before slipping the finger in her mouth, sucking it clean, and then put her hands on her hips.
"Now am I a slut?"
"It's still your call, milady, and it always will be. Men will pounce on just about any willing woman, but they're called studs. How fair is that? I happen to think that willing women are deserving of some respect for having the guts to go after what they want."
Standing up, I added, "Besides, we're vampires. No diseases and no unplanned pregnancies. All you have to worry about is being caught in the act by the wrong people. That's a big part of the reason we're out here, isn't it?"
Nodding, she came to stand closer to me and peered up at me studiously for a time, then went to the stream and cupped water to drink from her hands. I walked past her into the water and splashed a small tidal wave at her.
Screeching softly at the cool water, Monica stood up and seemed about to back away from the edge, then changed her mind and put a foot in the water.
"Wow," she said, "It's kind of steep, isn't it?"
"It's a crater. That's how they are, usually. Just plant your feet firmly and you'll be fine."
Coming back toward shore, I took her hand as she moved into water up to her navel. Monica then took her hand back and used both of them to try to rinse herself thoroughly between her legs.
A small, faintly glowing aural cloud formed around her, and I realized that it was composed of little bits of me spreading out into the water. That seemed somehow symbolic, though I couldn't put my finger on exactly how or why it seemed so.
We moved to stand in a more direct line with the mouth of the stream and the water flowed around us more discernibly.
Monica cupped her hands for another drink and said, "You make a girl thirsty, mister."
Was she referring to our previous activity or the taste of me? I didn't ask, instead preferring to quietly watch her move in the moonlight and rinse the dirt off her back.
My dick began to rise and poked it's head and neck out of the water between us as it gained full stiffness.
When Monica spotted it, she said, "Oh, my. Again?"
"If you wouldn't mind, milady," I said. "I'd certainly appreciate it, you know."
She snickered and played with my dick for a few moments before she said, "I just got all the dirt off."
"No, ma'am. I did. You couldn't reach it all."
"We're wet. We'd get our clothes wet."
Shaking my head, I said, "Nope. We'll just stand a little closer to the bank and you'll lean forward a bit. Things'll fit just fine if you put your hands on the bank for balance."
And so it was. She found a spot where she could dig her feet in and lean on the bank, and I stepped up behind her and caressed and kissed her back as I slid myself into her.
"God," she breathed, "That feels SO good now."
"You seemed to think it felt good before too."
"Yes, but that was... extreme. This is just... well, GOOD."
I kissed her back, massaged her breasts, and continued stroking into her like a happy hound. After a while, my fingers found their way to her cleft and 'discovered' the little magic button between the folds.
Monica gasped and jerked as my fingers caressed her nubbin. Something inside her seemed to spasm and it was suddenly very wet in there; wet enough that I slid in and out of her almost without friction for some moments.
"This is nice, too?" I asked, massaging her clit again.
"Oooohhh, yessss," she breathed, nodding as she spoke.
Continuing my efforts, I heard her breathing change again and saw her hands clench the dirt for a moment, then her hands went flat against the dirt and she began meeting my slow thrustings firmly.
"Uh..." she muttered, "C-could you... go a little... faster?"
"Yes, ma'am," I answered quietly, and increased my pace just a bit.
All talking ceased as she reached for her prize. I got a grip on Monica's hips and began a firm, quick thrusting that she matched perfectly until she suddenly stiffened and froze.
Been there. Done that. She wouldn't want me to freeze, too. She'd want me to continue pounding into her, and that's what I did for some moments as her breathing turned harsh and her keening grew louder.
I moved up a bit to put more pressure on her hot spot with the center curve of my dick and kept up the pace. Monica's harsh raspings became a "Hhhaaahahhhh..." that repeated several times, then became much more high-pitched.
"Nownownow!" she almost screamed, "I'm there! I'm there! DO it! Do it NOW!"
Hell, all any of us need is a little encouragement at the right time, and her words seemed to call up the tingling, flashing surge from my heels to my crotch.
After another few hard thrusts, I shoved myself into Monica and held her firmly to me as she thrashed a little and braced herself on the crater rim. When I began throbbing and squirting inside her, she sobbed loudly and groaned.
Completion takes many forms. Monica had found hers, I think. She'd had a fine, strong orgasm while riding me the first time, but this time her knees seemed to fail her and I had to hold her up to finish filling her.
When I relaxed my grip on her hips, she groaned and let herself slowly slide off me to sink into the water rather carefully. Our disengagement caused me a last throb and a spurt that sailed a foot or so and splashed into the water.
Monica watched the droplet sink, then stared up at me for some moments as I milked the rest out and let it drift away in the current of the stream.
Meeting her gaze for a moment, I settled beside her in the cool, shallow water and gave her a big grin as I asked, "Well? How was I, ma'am? Do I get the job now?"
Her snicker turned to a laugh as she rolled on her back and let herself slide beneath the waves. Well, beneath the ripples, actually. She surfaced a moment later and swept her hair back with a gasp as she took in a fresh lungful of air.
"Oh, lordy," she said, leaning to kiss me. "Yes! Hell, yes, you get the job! What the hell was it, by the way? You made me forget."
Shrugging, I said, "Same here. I got so wrapped up in what we were doing... Hm. Wasn't it something about doing this sort of thing for you a few times a week?"
"FOR me? Ha! It feels to me as if you did it TO me!"
"Okay, then. Both. To and for you. As I see it, I did it FOR you, milady, just as you did it for me. That's the way I prefer to think of these things, y'know."
She laughingly agreed to let me call it FOR her, since I felt so strongly about it, then a dazzle in the water caught her eye and she raised her arm in startlement.
"Oh, damn!" she said, "I forgot to take off my watch!"
Taking her hand, I listened to her watch. Ticking fine. The time was 11:30.
"Seems okay," I said as she listened to it and looked it over. "It's a Timex, so it's probably more or less waterproof."
"I didn't see that on it. Better get it out of the water... Oh, my! Look what time it is! We have to get back, Ed! I go on as alternate Duty Officer in half an hour!"
Ed. She called me by name for the first time since we'd left her BOQ room. Was that particularly meaningful, or just a slip?
Monica fanned water at her bush for some moments and rinsed herself as thoroughly as possible as I did the same, then I handed her up and out of the crater and followed her. We got dressed quickly, but as she was sliding her panties up her lovely legs, I handed her one of my paper towel hankies.
"To catch any strays," I said, nodding at her panties. "I shot quite a bit of that stuff into you this evening, ma'am. You may leak for a little while, yet."
She nodded and took the hanky, refolded it slightly, and placed it carefully between her legs, then finished dressing.
"Lordy," she said, "I wish I didn't have to go to work. My legs are still shaking and I think I could sleep for a week."
Once my boots were on and my first shirt button was secured, we lifted and I finished buttoning on the way. Above the helipads, Monica flew close, groped for my arms, and pulled me into a kiss.
"Thank you," she said firmly. "I really, really mean that."
"Thank you, too," I said. "I couldn't have done it alone."
With a last soft laugh, she kissed me again and let me go to return to her room. As I flew over the building to land on the other side and come into the ops office past the desk, I saw an aura like mine at one of the BOQ windows.
Anna. She left the window as I approached the ops doors and shoved the left door open to fly into the room. The CQ looked up sharply at the closing door, then glanced around the office and crossed himself.
Flitting up the corridor to the mess hall, I unghosted behind a fire door and went to the latrine to take a leak and wash up, then headed for the mess hall and some coffee.
The same CQ guy who'd been there the night before looked up and nodded as I tapped some coffee into a cup, then tapped another cup for Anna. The CQ gave the two cups and me a raised eyebrow as I set them down on the table next to his, then went back for a third cup, which really made him stare.
Someone had left a newspaper on a nearby table. I grabbed it and sat reading until -- only a few minutes after midnight -- Anna and Monica walked into the mess hall together, looking every bit as officer-ish as their ranks demanded in public.
I stood up and pointed at the extra two coffees on my table with a smile and reached to push chairs back from the table across from me. Both women glanced at each other, then came to the table.
The enlisted CQ paid us a little too much attention.
Before sitting down, Monica asked, "Corporal, are you about to make your rounds or go off duty?"
"Uh, I'll be going off duty, ma'am," he said.
Nodding, she said, "Have a good night, then."
Momentarily flustered, the guy grabbed his clipboard and took his cup to the bus bins, then left the mess hall. For some moments, nobody at our table said anything, then Anna coughed gently, sipped her coffee, and spoke softly.
"You were so sure we'd come here together that you drew two extra coffees?"
Shrugging, I said, "I'm a sergeant, so I have to appear to be psychic. Besides, how else am I going to impress a couple of gorgeous female officers at this hour?"
Monica smiled and said, "Well, I'm certainly impressed. How about you, Major?"
"Oh, yes," said Anna. "Very impressed, actually. Twice over, I'd say. No, wait; make that thrice over, I think."
Glancing at Monica, I gave her a raised eyebrow. She shrugged as she smiled and nodded slightly in a 'Yup, I told her everything' manner.
Looking at Anna, I asked, "Am I in any sort of trouble, here, milady? I know you called her to let her know I was coming."
Anna shook her head.
"No. It was a setup, just as you thought. We had some ice to break, and now it's broken. How do you feel at the moment? Is your virus singing at you at all?"
"No, should it be?"
Shrugging, Anna said, "I guess not, if it isn't, but if Bender lets you come to my office in the morning, we'll make a trip to the blood bank on general principles." She leaned closer and glanced at Monica as she whispered, "Two hours is kind of a long fuck, you know. Have to keep your strength up."
Monica turned a deep red and Anna snickered as she grinningly sipped her coffee.
"An hour and a half, maybe," I said defensively. "We actually talked to each other a little, too."
Anna shot back, "Damned little, to hear her tell it. She made it sound like you gave her one long boom-boom, GI."
"Okay!" hissed Monica. "Enough, please."
She started to gather her clipboard as if to get up and Anna put a hand on her arm.
"Just teasing," said Anna. "Relax, you're among friends, remember?"
"I... I'm not used to this, that's all."
Monica's hands were trembling. Anna noticed, too.
"Like she said, ma'am," I said, pushing Monica's coffee toward her, "Relax. We'll stop ribbing each other. Promise." Glancing at Anna, I asked, "Right, Major?"
Anna nodded. Settling back in her chair a bit, Monica looked at both of us for a moment, then picked up her coffee cup with both hands.
The Duty Officer walked past the mess hall entrance and stopped, then came in and headed for our table. We all turned to face him and I got up to ask if anyone wanted another cup of coffee.
Handing me her cup, Anna said, "Yes, please."
I looked at the oncoming Captain -- Randley, by his nametag -- and asked, "How about you, Captain? Got time for a cup?"
The guy saw Monica's tension and surveyed the table somewhat critically before he asked in a deep South accent, "Am I interrupting something here?"
Using my stock answer for such questions, I shrugged and said, "Well, we had just about all the world's problems solved, Captain, but now we'll have to start over. No biggie, though. How about that coffee?"
He peered at me rather starkly for a moment and said nothing, then returned his gaze to Anna and Monica, ignoring me completely. Not much humor in this guy.
Turning to Anna, I said, "Well, in that case, ma'am, I'll bring you one and head back to the barracks."
Anna said, "Thanks for volunteering, Sergeant. Don't forget we're all going to the blood bank tomorrow."
"No problem, Major. Blood doesn't bother me much."
On the way to the coffee urn, I could feel the Captain's eyes on me, and the truth of that was verified when I neared the plastic sneeze shield over the empty serving bins. Randley's reflection was staring right at me.
"Captain," said Anna. He turned to face her and she asked, "Was there something you wanted at this table?"
"Uh, no, Major. I just came in to see who was in the mess hall at this hour." I saw him glance at me in the plastic. "Uh, to see if everything was all right over here."
In a flat tone with an iron quality, Anna replied, "Well, now you know, don't you? For your information, Captain Randley, you were just rather rude to a man who is willing to help us get some things done around the wards. When he brings my coffee back, you can apologize for your rudeness like the gentleman you're supposed to be. If you won't do that, you can leave my table right now."
I filled two cups on general principles. Unless the guy was a complete idiot, he'd make the apology and avoid becoming a virtual pariah among the nurses by the end of the day.
The captain surprised me. Before I turned around with the coffees, I heard his march steps heading toward the door. Huh. Stupid. No dates for Randley this duty tour. I dumped the second coffee and turned around to take Anna hers.
As I approached, Anna asked, "You heard?"
Nodding, I said, "Sure did. Thanks for trying. Who is he?"
Monica said, "He's the new XO in Radiology."
"Huh. I don't get down there very often. Do you figure he was unwilling to apologize TO a mere sergeant, or FOR a mere woman, ranking officer or not?"
Anna sipped her coffee and said, "No idea. Maybe both. Doesn't matter, though. Any way you cut it, he's a jerk."
"Yup." Turning to Monica, I said, "Lieutenant Brooks, ma'am, Captain Randley's very probably one of those men I warned you about back at the pond."
She looked up at me quizzically for a moment, then burst out laughing. Anna grinned along with her, but looked at me as quizzically as Monica had while Monica sucked in a big breath and laughed some more.
Leaning across the table, I whispered, "I told her that most men don't know shit about sex. I figure Randley's one of 'em 'cause he's too stuck up to learn anything from a woman."
Pretending shock, Anna grinningly whispered, "My dear Sergeant! You're talking about a superior officer!"
"Oh, no, ma'am. I know for a fact that I'm just talking about a plain old officer. Garden variety; not a truly superior one like you, milady Major, ma'am."
"Oooo," said Monica, with a grinning glance at Anna. "Be sure to wipe your nose before you leave, Sarge."
"Will do, LT," I said as I straightened up and saluted them. "Time for me to go, ladies. I seem to need some sleep. Must be kinda tired, after all. Can't imagine why."
As I left the mess hall, I saw Randley checking doors a good distance down the corridor toward the medevac unit. I briefly considered ghosting past him just to shave a few minutes of likely interruption off my path to my unit, then rejected the idea. Better to let him stop me where the CQ from my unit could hear every word, if stop me he would.
And stop me he did, right outside medevac.
"Sergeant," he said as I passed.
I stopped and looked at him as I said, "Captain."
Making a mark on his clipboard concerning the locked status of door '#M308-Stores', he stepped over to me and seemed to regard me for a moment before speaking.
"Sergeant, I'd like to apologize for being difficult with you."
"No problem, Captain."
"Will you pass the word to the Major?"
"Sure, but you'll be seeing the LT on your shift. You could let her know and I could back you if they ask me about it. That might carry more weight."
He peered at me for another moment, then said, "Never mind, then. It was something just between us men, right? I owed you an apology and now we're square, right?"
His emphasis on the word 'we're' bugged me.
Shrugging, I said, "Guess so, Captain."
Maybe he saw or heard my lack of sincerity.
"Sergeant, how do you feel about women in uniform?"
"If they can do the job, no problem, Captain."
"You really feel that way, or are you just saying that because you think I'm testing you?"
"Testing me, Captain? Not likely. You're in Radiology, not the Psych ward."
His face changed slightly; it hardened a bit.
He asked, "How did you know where I work, Sergeant? I've only been here four days, and I know we haven't met before tonight."
"The ladies knew who you were, Captain."
"They talked about me with you?"
"I heard one of them tell the other after you left."
"What else did you hear them say about me?"
"Captain, that was a personal conversation with a woman who outranks you. If you want to know what either of those ladies think of you, you'll have to find out from them. I'm not about to get stuck in the middle of anything. I just work here."
Randley glaringly seethed at me for some moments, then growled, "You can count on seeing me again, Sergeant," before he turned on his heel and walked away.
Never threaten me with retribution, deserved or not, because I'll damned well believe you and do something about it as soon as possible. I looked into the medevac office and saw the nervous CQ staring at me.
Walking up to his desk, I asked, "You saw that Captain stop and talk to me, right?"
Giving me an odd look, he said, "Uh, yeah, Sarge."
"You saw him stomp away, too, didn't you?"
"Yeah."
"Well, then, gimme the desk. Captain Randley didn't check the last nine doors on this wing, including the med supplies storerooms. I'm putting it on record. You're a witness."
The guy backpedaled fast. "Uh, well, I..."
I braced him with a look and said, "You saw it happen. If any shit comes down, they'll subpoena you, so unless you're willing to risk some bad time for perjury, you'll sign it."
He stood around fidgeting a lot, but once I had the 1049 Disposition Form typed in quadruplicate, he signed it. I gave him a copy and kept a copy, then slid the other two copies under the door to Bender's office and hit the showers.
Chapter Forty-five
Reveille. Morning ablutions. Muster and roll call, at the end of which several of us were told to report to the ops office after breakfast. I was one of those told to report.
As I returned from breakfast, I didn't make it past Bender's door on my way to the ops desk.
"Sergeant!" said Bender, in a voice not quite a shout.
I reported to him appropriately and waited as he gave the 1049 forms one last scan, then looked up at me.
"You really want to do this?" he asked.
"It happened, sir. There are hard drugs in the supply rooms and he didn't check the doors when he came on shift."
Standing up, Bender came around his desk and stood in front of me for a moment before he said, "At ease. I don't suppose you'd cut a new officer a break?"
"The same break he'd cut me, sir. He'd say that I'd been in the Army long enough to know better, and the Captain has been in at least two years longer than me."
"This report mentions Major Corinth. Why am I not surprised? You were having coffee with her at midnight?"
"I was already there, Colonel. She came in with the alternate Duty Officer, Lt. Brooks. I volunteered to help out with some things around the wards and we were discussing matters when Captain Randley came in. I offered to get him a coffee when I went for Major Corinth's. He ignored me completely and asked the major in a suggestive manner if he was interrupting anything. A few minutes later, while I was getting Major Corinth a coffee, I saw Captain Randall leave in a huff. When he stopped me outside medevac, he wanted to know what they'd said about him. I told him he'd have to ask them what they thought of him, then he stomped off up the corridor. Without checking those doors."
Sighing as he leaned on his desk, Bender said, "Yeah, yeah. Just like it says in the report. Anything to add or change?"
"No, sir."
Nodding, he said, "Before I act on this or include it in the daily report, I'd like to have a word with all concerned. Do you still not wish to add or change it, Sergeant?"
"No sir. That's how it happened. Captain Randley got pissed at me and let it keep him from doing his job."
Bender chewed his inner lip for a moment, then said, "What if I decide this incident warrants no action, Sergeant?"
"Permission to speak freely, Colonel?"
"Okay, but not 'off the record'. Remember that."
I nodded and said, "I'm not giving up my copy of that 1049, Colonel. Whether you act on it or not, if Captain Randley tries to create any trouble for Major Corinth, me, or anyone else from last night's incident, my copy will surface instantly. Beyond that, now that you know about the incident, you'll have reason to suspect his motives for causing trouble, and I've no doubt you'll verify with Major Corinth and LT Brooks what happened in the mess hall. Cap Randley doesn't seem to approve of women in uniform, sir. While he apologized to me, a lowly sergeant, he absolutely refused my suggestion that the Major might also deserve one and demanded to know what the ladies had said about him. When I refused to tell him, he said -- and I quote -- 'You can count on seeing me again, Sergeant,' just before he stomped off."
Again chewing his inner lip, Bender regarded me quietly for a time, then said, "In fairness to all involved, I'll talk to everybody before I decide to handle this. Dismissed."
That morning we had two calls; one for a medevac bird and one for Wilson's gunship. Blautmann was on sick call and Kersey had the runs, so I went with the medevac run to pick up four wounded.
When I returned around ten, Potts told me that Captain Randley was in Bender's office, so I got a coffee and parked my butt on the corner of the ops office desk -- out of sight of the office, of course -- and listened. It wasn't pleasant.
Bender went up one side and down the other with Randley about not checking the doors to rooms known to store hard drugs, then braced him about soliciting one of his medevac people concerning another officer's private conversation.
"Randley," said Bender, "Major Corinth is well-liked and well-respected in this hospital, and her words carry weight. She thinks you're a jerk. She didn't say that in so many words, but it was pretty obvious how she felt, especially after she saw this 1049. If I were you, I'd consider trying to make peace with her as quickly as possible."
Randley must have really had his head up his ass that morning.
He shot back, "There's only one kind of peace I'd like to make with her, and it's spelled p-i-e-c-e. She may be the queen of ward seven, but to me, she's just another woman who doesn't know her place in this world."
While I wouldn't have called the relationship between Bender and Corinth anything close to friendship, she owned a certain measure of Bender's respect, and Randley had just taken a giant step over that line as well as referring to a superior officer in a thoroughly disrespectful manner.
There was dead silence in Bender's office for several moments, then I heard a chair scoot back. I unassed the ops desk and headed for the ob-deck in order to be somewhere else when that office door opened, which it did just as I was opening the door to the stairwell.
"Dismissed, Captain," said Bender. "You aren't to visit my medevac for any reason. Unless you come in as one of the wounded, of course, as unlikely as that may be. Likewise, you aren't to speak to my personnel unless the subject is radiology. That isn't a request." There was a pause, then he said, "Potts, add this to the daily report. I want it on record today."
"But...!" I heard Randall protest.
"I said; dismissed, Captain," repeated Bender firmly, then I heard his door close rather harder than usual.
I headed upstairs and sat by the big window with my coffee. Chances were excellent that I'd be called to Bender's office within half an hour. Sipping coffee, I scanned the treeline and waited about ten minutes. A presence like mine became noticeable; I figured Anna was probably downstairs.
Sure enough, Potts came up the stairs about fifteen minutes later and said, "Hey, Sarge, that Major Corinth is here with the LT from the blood bank and Bender wants you. And he had me add your 1049 to the daily report."
Both women here? Nodding, I picked up my coffee and headed back downstairs to knock on Bender's closed door.
"Come in," he said.
As I entered, I pretended surprise at seeing Anna and Monica, then reported as required to Colonel Bender.
"At ease," said Bender. "It's done. Your DF is filed for the record and I've filled Major Corinth and Lieutenant Brooks in on the situation as -- I understand it -- with Captain Randley."
"Thank you, Colonel."
"Don't thank me yet," he said, "I'm having you transferred to blood services, where Lt. Brooks assures me that she'll get the Army's money's worth out of you."
That was a bit of a surprise. I nodded.
"Thanks again, sir. She offered to cross train me in lab work. This'll make that a little easier."
He nodded and said, "There's more. She'll be lending you back to medevac when things get busy enough."
"Sounds fine, Colonel. I like helicopters."
Monica snickered and Anna allowed a small smile. Bender opened his safe and took out my web belt and .45, then the cloth bag of loose ammo. Out of long habit, I slung the belt over my left shoulder with the holster flap to the right, then reached for the ammo bag. Bender's eyes were on the holster; my ready positioning of it hadn't escaped his attention.
Bender noddingly indicated Monica and said, "Stash that gear in her office, then come back here for your paperwork. 5th Holding expects to see you sometime this afternoon."
He stood up and said to Anna and Monica, who were also rising to their feet, "All set, ladies. If things don't work out, send him back here and I'll find him something to do."
Anna said, "They're shipping Lt. Hardesty out this afternoon, Col. Bender. We'll be stopping by on the way to my office. Care to come with us?"
Shaking his head, Bender said, "Sorry, no. I have a few things to do here, yet, but I'll see him before he goes."
In the corridor, Monica asked, "You don't mind being transferred to my ward? It isn't anywhere near as exciting as medevac. No helicopters, either."
Grinning at her, I said, "No problem, milady."
"It was Bender's idea," said Anna. "He said we might need to cover each other if Randley gets obnoxious." Pausing to glance at me, she added, "We heard what he said in Bender's office. Did you hear it, too?"
"First hand, ma'am. I was right outside at the ops desk when he misspelled 'peace' and said you were just another woman who doesn't know her place in the world. Bender got really pissed and threw Randley out."
"That's what he said, too, but he didn't tell us about Randley's spelling problem. What was that about?"
"He said there's only one kind of peace he'd like to make with you, and it's spelled p-i-e-c-e. Bender didn't take that remark well. Not at all. Since he didn't mention it, he probably wouldn't take my telling you about it very well, either."
Anna nodded. I could tell she was containing her anger, and the words 'poor Randley' crossed my mind.
Hardesty was sitting up when we arrived. He saw the pistol belt and immediately, peeringly asked if I was going hunting.
"Nope. Just moving it to another office, LT. This is Lt. Monica Brooks. Monica, this guy used to be my XO. He's been milking a couple of little scratches for attention, but for some reason, they're only now getting around to throwing him out."
"Ed," said Hardesty, looking at Monica, then at Anna, "For an enlisted man, you have truly excellent taste in friends."
"I know, LT. Want me to go steal you some cookies?"
Shaking his head, he said, "Nah. Later, maybe. This is going to be my last day here, so stick around a while."
We chatted for a bit, then I left the ladies with him while I went to stash my .45 with Sgt. Carter and get some cookies from the mess hall, anyway. The cook gave me a dozen chocolate chip cookies on a plate and let me take a coffee thermos and some cups.
As I headed back past the duty nurse, she claimed two cookies for herself, set two aside for LT, and said we could fight over the rest of them.
Before we left, Hardesty gave me his address in California and said that he'd heard that things were getting rough for Nam vets in the States.
"If you run into problems, give me a call," he said. "Job, roof, food, money. Whatever. You may wind up working for me again, but that's just a chance you'll have to take."
After lunch, I took care of the paperwork and got installed in a different barracks, then headed for the blood lab, where Monica put me to work on a couple of donors.
By the end of my tour I was a capable lab tech, if not a certified one. Time had run short for study because Charlie expanded his efforts with the '68 Tet Offensive. Sometimes I'd only see the blood lab once or twice a week; the rest of the time I was on a medevac team.
Monica was still there when I left and Anna shipped out for the States about two weeks before I did. When I got back to the US and got past initial visits with my family, I stayed for a few months with Anna at her home in Falls Church, Virginia.
She still had a few years to go in the Army and family matters caused me to return to Texas for several months, during which time I met my future wife, Kim.
I made a few stopovers in California during the next thirty-three years, but while the place was interesting, it didn't draw me quite the way Europe did.
After quite a while as a low level spook in Europe and as a medic in a mercenary outfit in Africa, I returned to the US and took a part-time job in a Texas computer shop to learn something about the newest aspect of the electronic age.
That was a good decision; I wound up repairing and assembling computers in several states before settling on the west coast of Florida in 1989, then I modified my direction yet again as the Internet became a public concern.
Anna still lives in Falls Church, but spends a lot of time traveling. Monica pretty much settled herself in Lakewood, Colorado and opened her own lab business under a new name.
Thirteen years have passed since I moved into this house, and a few of my neighbors have noticed that I seem to be aging very well. Some, in fact, have remarked that I look about the same as I did when I moved in, and one in particular is convinced that I've had plastic surgery.
I made some local acquaintances immediately upon arrival, of course. There are fifty-two other vampires in Florida, and seventeen of them live within a hundred miles of me.
Now and then a drug dealer or other violent miscreant disappears from some city or town within a fifty-mile radius. All the socially-proper noises are made and missing persons reports are filed and such, but neither hide nor hair of these people is ever seen again.
The Gulf of Mexico is our next-door neighbor. It's deep and wide and full of critters that make short work of dead pushers, armed robbers, and the like.
- - End Hunt Club - -
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"3rd World Products, Inc., Book 2"
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"3rd World Products, Inc., Book 5"
"3rd World Products, Inc., Book 6"
"3rd World Products, Inc., Book 7"
"3rd World Products, Inc., Book 8"
"An Encounter in Atlanta"
"Assignment: ATLANTA"
(A Sandy Shield Novel!)
"Bitten and Smitten" (Vampires!)
"HUNT CLUB" (Vampires!)
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"In Service to a Goddess, Book 2"
"In Service to a Goddess, Book 3"
"In Service to a Goddess, Book 4"
"STARDANCER"
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