THE SOLDIER: A Vietnam War Era Novel

by Schwartz, Richard Alan

  “I’m going for a drive.”

  She blocked his path. “Not like this you’re not.”

  “I’m livid and need to get away for a while.”

  “Give me your keys.”

  “No way!” he shouted.

  Rachel kept her voice calm but said in a firm tone. “Now. Give me your keys.”

  “You don’t understand.”

  Eyes glaring, she said, “Too well, I understand.” She held out her hand, palm up.

  “Rachel…”

  Speaking in a slow but firm manner, she insisted, “Give me the damn keys.”

  He glared at her, fury in his expression, his hands turning into fists. She returned his glare in kind. He slowly slipped his hand into his pocket, removed his keys and handed them to her.

  “Thank you,” she said. The petite lady dropped the keys in her apron pocket and returned to bread making. The entire house rattled as he slammed the back door.

  Alone with his thoughts, Brian worked out his fury while splitting wood.

  He thought, “The damn idiots. These problems, which result in PTSD, have been around since Roman times. Without using that specific name, Marcus Aurelius noted the symptoms in his writings. So what the hell is wrong with Veterans from any war not wanting to know that my research demonstrates what we can do for veterans?”

  He cursed and shook his head while his eyes teared up. “Am I not explaining what my goal is?” Brian left the wood pile, jogged for a half mile, then thought, “This is some shit.” Brian shook his head then used his shoulders to wipe his tearing eyes. “Maybe I should wait until there’s another war…maybe then someone will listen.” He cursed again then mumbled, “What a disgusting thought.” The surgeon took his anger out on the wood pile for the next hour.

  Sweat covered even on that cool day, Brian returned to the house, found Rachel reading in the family room. He kissed her cheek and said, “Any normal woman wouldn’t put up with my bat-shit craziness.”

  Without looking up from her book, she said, “If she cared about you as much as I do, she would.”

  He shook his head and sighed. “Pretty lady, you keep me sane.”

  * * *

  “I’d planned to visit here for a few days, and it’s been over three weeks,” Rachel said. They stood in the laundry room folding clothing. “I should head back to my place.”

  She glanced at Brian then out a window, admired the reddening, western sky as sundown approached.

  “I understand,” he said then kissed her lips.

  “My life is on the other side of town.”

  Brian nodded as he put an arm around her. “I know.”

  She twisted away, stood up straight, folded her arms across her chest then pouted. “When we disagree, we argue like immature teenagers.”

  “True. Yet I’ve loved every minute you’ve been here.”

  “Why?”

  “Even while at work these past few weeks, no matter how frustrated I became, knowing you’ll be here to greet me kept me on an even keel. Even the staff at work have noticed.”

  “We both have separate working lives.”

  Brian smiled and said. “I love that Seth attends pre- school with you. Knowing you’re keeping an eye one him, I don’t worry how his day is going.”

  They carried the folded laundry upstairs then moved to the front porch, seated themselves on a settee, and eyed a golden sunset.

  They were quiet as each seemed lost in their own thoughts. The wind chimes played a gentle melody.

  Brian broke the silence. “You should move in with us.”

  She shook her head. “Ridiculous. We’ve only been together for little more than a few weeks.”

  “Seth responds to you like he did to his birth mom.”

  “I doubt it.”

  “He’s a happy child again.”

  She shook her head. “Little to do with me.”

  He kissed her cheek. “Everything to do with you. He’s no longer riveted to my side.”

  Rachel shrugged. “We play a few children’s games now and then.”

  He engaged in a deep sigh and showed her a warm smile. Brian intertwined his fingers with hers. “Inside you, you know we belong together. You feel it just like I do. The time between our Thanksgiving visit and you staying with us was awful for me…and I suspect the same for you.”

  “You don’t know what I felt.”

  He smiled and said, “Tell me I’m wrong.”

  Rachel blushed, pulled her hand away from his then folded her arms across her chest, and turned away from him. “We’ve not been together long enough.”

  Brian shrugged and said, “You have your own life and you make wise decisions. If you don’t wish to live with us, it will be sad but, we’ll learn to live with that.”

  “You won’t be angry with me if I decide not to stay?”

  He shrugged. “Not a problem.”

  “It’s too soon.”

  “Just one thing…” Brian said.

  “What?”

  He yelled for his son, who ran onto the porch. “Seth, Rachel has something to tell you.”

  The little one ran over to the settee, climbed up, sat on Rachel’s lap then cuddled against her. His bright eyes looking up at her.

  “Seth,” she began, “I…” She opened her mouth as if to continue then stared at the three-year-old.

  The little one sat up straight. “Mommy Rachel tell Seth?” he asked then again rested his head on her chest.

  “I’m going…,” she hesitated then turned to stare at the ocean of red clouds spreading across the Texas plains, the sun reduced to a pinpoint blaze. Rachel gave Seth a brief squeeze then kissed the top of his head. She took a deep breath and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, “What would you think if I stayed here with you and your father?”

  The little one became pensive, glanced at his father then grinned and turned back to Rachel. “You play Chutes and Ladders? Every day?”

  Rachel laughed and said, “Of course.” She leaned toward Brian and kissed his lips.

  “I’ll call the movers,” Brian said. “What changed your mind?”

  She shrugged then answered with a mischievous expression and voice. “Obviously, Seth understands where my future lies; with far better clarity than either one of us.”

  Chapter 16

  1975 April

  After sundown on a warm day in early April, Brian and Rachel moved to the patio to view planetary objects. Rachel had a pitcher of lemonade in one hand, two glasses in the other, and a small blanket under her arm.

  “Brian, I could use a car to run around in while you’re at work.” She placed the items she carried on a small, round glass-topped table. Ice and liquid splashed into two frosty glasses as she poured a lemonade for each then handed one to Brian. She stood at his side and sipped her lemonade.

  “Thanks,” he said and sipped the drink. “Take either of my cars.” He peered through and adjusted the telescope.

  She shook her head. “I don’t like to drive stick-shift vehicles and your pick up is too big. I was thinking more of a family car.”

  “Pick something and I’ll buy it for you.”

  Rachel stared at him briefly. “How much money are we talking about?”

  “Doesn’t matter. I earn good money. Whatever you like.” He adjusted the telescope. “I have a good view of Saturn if you’d like to see it.”

  She rolled her shoulders and sighed. “We need to talk about something.”

  He looked up from the scope. “Anything.”

  Rachel plopped into one of the cushy patio chairs, tucking her legs under her. “You have a cavalier attitude when it comes to spending money.”

  Brian stared at her. “Not sure what you’re…”

  “All I need is an old station wagon. Good enough to get to the store and pre-school.”

  “Old? I’ll buy you a new one.”

  “I know you have money but the difference between new and old, you should give the difference to charity
.”

  “I give to charity.”

  “When?”

  “When someone approaches me and explains a need.”

  “Why do you wait?”

  “Rachel, why is it necessary to discuss this? You need a car, pick one, and I’ll buy it.”

  She folded her arms across her chest. “You’ve never asked me how I made a living in between my occasional bass guitar gigs. Didn’t you ever wonder?”

  “Not really. I assumed you lived with Arnie and Shira because it was cheap.”

  She shook her head, crossed her arms. “Wrong. Totally wrong. I was there for the moral support, and paid rent.”

  “But some of your work, sometimes months apart you said.”

  “That’s right.”

  “As long as we’re together money won’t be a problem.”

  “My parents left me huge investments. Money isn’t a problem but you’re not careful with spending.”

  “You have money, I have money. Why are we arguing about this?”

  “A news article today said many veterans need appliances. Wheelchairs, crutches, artificial limbs and the like.”

  “I didn’t know.”

  “What are you going to do about that?”

  “The VA will take care of them.”

  “Not all of them apparently.”

  Brian sounded exasperated. “Rachel, I have to admit, I’m baffled. What do you want me to do?”

  “Buy me a small family vehicle. It will take me where I need to go and doesn’t use much fuel.”

  “But I can get you a new station wagon or whatever…”

  Her face red, apparent even in the darkness, she raised her voice, saying, “Find a way to buy appliances for your fellow vets with the money you’ll save by buying what I’m asking for.”

  “I earn…” He turned away. Shook his head. Brian peered through his telescope while she sipped her lemonade. “You can see a number of Saturn’s rings,” he said.

  “Brian…”

  He straightened, said in an angry tone in a slow deliberate voice, “No. Not going to happen. You and Seth driving around in a small, lightweight vehicle…forget it. I want more steel around you two. I’ll find a used Suburban.”

  “If I decide to buy one with my own money?”

  He raised his voice. “Buy something I think isn’t safe and I’ll rip out its ignition.” He glared at her, fury in his eyes. “Try me. No way in hell you’re going to drive around in something small. I’ve performed surgery on too many torn up passengers who were riding in small cars.”

  “Brian, you’re shouting.”

  Fuming, he took a moment to calm down, stared at the pool for a while then said, “Sorry, but forget it. Absolutely no small cars.”

  “Okay. Okay.” She raised her hands in an expression of surrender. A deep sigh escaped her lips. “You buy me one of those Suburban things, but used, not new,” Rachel’s expression a frown, she twisted on her chair. “And I’ll look into appliances for the veterans.”

  He nodded, turned back to the telescope.

  “Also,” Rachel said, “you mentioned your log cabin in Montana. Please tell me about it.”

  Brian pulled a cover over the telescope then moved to a patio chair. “I haven’t been out there since shortly after I came home. I was thinking of putting it on the market.”

  “Describe please.”

  “A two-level log cabin with a nice interior which showcases the logs. I always imagined I go out with friends to fly fish and escape Texas’ summer heat.”

  “Bedrooms?”

  “Seven.”

  Eyes wide, Rachel spun her head in his direction. “Did you say seven?”

  He nodded. “Yep. On Swan Lake, in Big Fork, near Kalispell, Montana. Located a short drive from Glacier National Park. Not far from Canada. Originally constructed to be a corporate retreat. Two story, set into a hill, on a couple acres. Big deck on the lake side which wraps around three sides of the house. Needs furniture, likely some repair, and a good cleaning.”

  “Dare I ask how many square feet?”

  “Just under eight thousand.”

  Rachel’s jaw dropped. “Eight thousand, that…that is not a cabin…”

  “Well, it’s constructed of stacked logs. Originally built to be a corporate retreat but never occupied so I bought it for a song. Just one bedroom, an office, and the kitchen partially furnished. And chairs and a table on the deck.”

  “When are we going?”

  He considered her request, shrugged his shoulders, and said, “If you like, I can take off a few weeks around July Fourth.”

  Rachel nodded. “I’ll start planning. You catch the news this morning?”

  “The war is over. I should be happy but I’m more relieved than anything else. It looks like we left with our tail between our legs. Did we accomplish what we set out to do?” He stared at the tops of his shoes then answered his own question. “Don’t think so. And we still have to deal with the Vets who continue to suffer.”

  “I can’t say what was accomplished but I’m glad it’s over.”

  Distant thunder rumbled. Rachel jumped. “You okay?”

  “Don’t like rain,” she reminded him as a few drops began falling.

  “I’ll finish packing up the telescope and meet you inside.”

  * * *

  After a three-and-a-half-day drive, during the last week of June, they arrived at the house in Montana.

  “My Lord.” Rachel gasped as the log home came into view. “Brian, this is gorgeous.”

  He parked the motorhome next to the house. Brian was pleased to see Rachel approach one of the debarked logs which held up the roof over the entrance and run her hand over it.

  “You didn’t tell me it would so elegant,” she said while wearing a warm smile.

  Brian unlocked the door, then stood aside to let Seth and Rachel enter. She marveled at the cedar wood floors and the exposed logs of the interior. Walking onto the deck off the main living space, the midday sunshine shimmered on a broad swath of Swan Lake which fronted the property. Mostly Douglas pines and a few Aspens waved in the light breeze. The petite lady turned back to view the interior. “But like you said, needs cleaning and furnishing. We should stay in the motor home until it’s ready. I’m going to look for an interior decorator but find a cleaning service first. Can we do that?”

  “The phone should be hooked up. I have to turn on the fifty-amp service for the coach and connect water and sewer just like at the campgrounds. Give me an hour and I’ll get everything hooked up.”

  Seth stood on the deck as a small motorboat cruised past then wanted to know where their boat was so they could explore the lake.

  His father said, “Help me with connecting the motorhome and we’ll go shopping for a boat.”

  “Something I can enjoy, please,” Rachel said. “It doesn’t need the engine from Hades to get us around this small lake.”

  “Mom,” Seth said, in the same tone she used when remonstrating him, “we need an engine that sounds like the 442.” He thought for a bit then added, “Maybe two of them in case one breaks when we’re way out on the water.” He grabbed Brian’s hand and they headed out the door.

  Rachel said to the receding pair, “Like father, like son.”

  Wednesday morning, a cleaning crew arrived and a local decorator engaged with Rachel. The cleaning crew was instructed to begin in his office so Brian could move his research and notes from the motor home to the office.

  On Friday evening, the home cleaned and mostly furnished, they enjoyed Sabbath dinner on the deck overlooking Swan Lake. Unlike the torrid summer temperatures of Texas, the temps were in the mid-seventies during the day and low fifties at night.

  Rachel served a Greek salad, seared King Salmon, new potatoes, and asparagus, plus fresh, halved-cherries with cream, for dessert.

  After they finished eating, they moved to the family room with its stacked stone fireplace which divided the window wall, and view of the lake. Brian, w
ith Seth’s help, began stacking logs to build a fire then joined Rachel on the couch. She said. “I was thinking you should tell me about Andrea. It might help me understand Seth.”

  “She suffered mental and physical wounds that happened before I met her. Andrea was in a car accident where her sister-in-law and nephew were killed. She was injured and experienced a difficult recovery. Andrea was driving and blamed herself for the deaths.”

  “Similar to a soldier who killed someone?”

  He stood, considering her question then paced up and back, occasionally stopping to poke the logs in the fireplace, finally adding a few more.

  “Brian?”

  “Yes. I believe like a soldier, but the surrounding circumstances are different. From what I’ve learned, a traumatic event can cause mental damage which may increase in severity as time passes. I believe that happened to Andrea.”

  “Was the accident her fault?”

  “The other driver was drunk but with more careful driving she felt she could have avoided the accident.”

  “The traumatic events you mentioned causing mental damage, why only in some people, not others.”

  His eyes left the fire and stared at her. “And there’s the rub. No clue why. Although, there was a study which showed any soldier will suffer a mental breakdown after sixty days of constant contact with an enemy force.”

  “Did the accident’s trauma cause Andrea to end her life?”

  “I don’t think so. She was depressed when she came here and arrived with plans to make sure Seth’s Dad raised him then end her life. I attributed the suicide to her illness, but the accident still weighed on her mental state. I suspect the combination pushed her over the edge…” He shrugged then walked to the bar and reached into a small fridge. Brian popped the top of a soda, poured some into a small glass for Seth then took a long sip from the can. He asked if she wanted one.

  “I’m fine. How would you describe your relationship with Andrea?”

  He plopped into a thickly padded chair. “During my R&R, like two metals slamming into each other at high velocity and high energy such that they meld together, become one.”

  “And when she came to Dallas?” Brian sat next to her on the couch.