Heads You Win

Addie wrote every week, and Alex hadn’t realized just how much he would miss her. He would have proposed, but not in a letter. However, once he was back …

Big Sam kept pressing him to join the boys on the brothel bus, but Alex continued to resist, even showing the Tank a photo of Addie.

“You wouldn’t have to tell her,” said Sam, with a huge grin.

“But I would have to tell her,” said Alex, as Presley crooned away on the canteen jukebox: You were always on my mind.

“I think you’d like Kim,” said Big Sam, refusing to give up.

“I had no idea you liked Kipling,” said Alex, returning his grin.

*   *   *

“Do you ever give any thought to the futility of war?” asked Alex.

“Not if I can help it,” said Lowell. “It might weaken my resolve, which wouldn’t help the men under my command if we ever had to face a real battle.”

“But there must be young North Vietnamese soldiers sitting in dugouts nearby who, like us, just want to go home and be with their families. Doesn’t history teach us anything?”

“Only that politicians should think a lot more carefully before they commit the next generation to war. How’s your mother coping without you?” asked Lowell, wanting to change the subject.

“As well as can be expected,” said Alex. “My eleven stalls are just about breaking even, but the truth is, she can’t wait for me to come home. It’s almost time to renew my licenses, and my mother will be no match for Mr. Wolfe.”

“Who’s he?”

“My landlord.”

“Can’t Dimitri deal with him? He sounds like a pretty tough guy.”

“Frankly, he’s way out of his depth. Dimitri’s much happier when he’s on the high seas.”

“Well, you’ve only got a few more months before we’ll be demobbed, which will please everyone except the Tank.”

“Why? Doesn’t he want to go home?”

“No, he’s requested a transfer to the Marines, which I will happily support. He wants to stay in the military when his year is up. If he had your brain, he’d end up a general.”

“If we had to go into battle,” said Alex, “I’d rather have him by my side than any general.”

*   *   *

The platoon were on a routine patrol when the order came through. They only had seventeen days to serve before they would be shipped back to the States, having completed their tour of duty.

Lieutenant Lowell asked HQ to repeat the order before he put down the field phone and gathered his men around him. “There’s been a skirmish nearby. One of our patrols was ambushed, and we’ve been ordered to go and support them.”

“At last,” said the Tank. His comrades didn’t look quite so convinced. Like Alex, they had been ticking off the days.

“Three Huey helicopters are already on their way to the combat area with orders to evacuate the wounded and transport the dead back to HQ.” The word “dead” heightened Alex’s awareness that the 116th was about to take part in its first serious mission.

The Tank was first on his feet, with Corporal Karpenko only a yard behind, while the rest of the platoon quickly formed a crocodile, with Private Baker bringing up the rear.

“No one speaks except me,” said Lowell as they entered no-man’s-land. “Even a cough could alert the enemy and put the whole unit in danger.”

For an hour they edged slowly and cautiously through the undergrowth and into enemy territory. Lieutenant Lowell checked his compass against the grid reference on his map every few minutes. Suddenly, the sound of gunfire made the map redundant. They fell to the ground and crawled on their bellies toward the battlefield.

Alex looked up to see the first of the three Hueys circling above, searching the dense tropical forest for a patch of flat ground on which they could land.

On, on they crept. Never in his life had Alex felt so alert. Even so, he couldn’t help wondering where he might be in an hour’s time. At least he no longer felt he’d wasted a year of his life.

He suddenly spotted the enemy about a hundred yards ahead of him. They hadn’t seen the approaching American platoon, because their attention was focused on the helicopter onto which the first of the wounded were being carried on stretchers by the medevac team, who were completely unaware that the Vietcong were hidden in the undergrowth only yards away from them.

Lowell raised his hand to indicate that the platoon should change direction, and circle the enemy. Each one of them knew that surprise was their best weapon. But as they edged closer and closer, Baker knelt on a fallen twig. It snapped, producing a noise that sounded like a firecracker. The soldier bringing up the rear of the Vietcong unit swung around and stared into Lowell’s eyes.

“Kẻ thù!” he cried.

The lieutenant leaped to his feet and began firing his M16 as he charged toward the enemy, with the rest of his unit following closely behind. Almost half the Vietcong were killed before they could return fire, but the lieutenant was hit, and fell face down in the marshy swamp. Alex immediately took his place, with the Tank by his side.