Targets: A Vietnam War Novel

by Don McQuinn

  Small groups of soldiers hunched over fires or stood around eating, sipping from canteens, talking and laughing. In the distance, Coleman lanterns burned bright on fresh-cut poles, their harsh glare spilling onto the interrogators at their tables, collecting data from the villagers. Those waiting their turn squatted on their haunches and looked at this new development with the unrevealing watchfulness of thousands of years of practice. In the fire-glow weapons gleamed red and black and young faces lived with heedless vigor. Under harsher lights the administrators harvested what was due them. The people endured. The uniforms and the weapons and the philosophies changed and the people endured.

  Winter and Loc stopped by their radio where their cots and sleeping bags were already positioned. Taylor sank to the ground and was wondering if he could scrounge better sleeping arrangements than the bare deck when Harker settled next to him.

  He said, “There’s something I’ve got to ask you,” and Taylor welcomed the interruption of his own musings.

  “What’s on your mind?”

  Harker plucked at some weeds. “We’ve been together almost a year, Tay. I like you and I think you’re a damned good soldier. Or Marine, if you want to get picky. I have to tell you that, because I have to ask you something.”

  Taylor raised a hand. “If it concerns Ly—”

  “Hey, man. No.” Harker was vehement. “It’s this deal tonight. Look, you’re leaving damned soon. I’ve learned a lot from you and Winter and I’m trying to put together some things in my head. It sounds self-important to call it a philosophy, but that’s what it amounts to. So I have to ask. The bluff about Binh’s wife—let’s say you didn’t have a chance to run it. What then?”

  Taylor knew he should be offended, yet felt nothing. He wondered what that signified. He said, “In other words, if it was really Binh’s wife, could I have tortured her to get him out? No.”

  Harker said, “But then you’d be beaten. He only came out because he knew you’d do it.”

  “He said it himself,” Taylor said. “Didn’t you hear him? I cheated him, the same as I cheated Tu. Listen, people who tell you there’s nothing more important than a human life are full of shit, understand? The things a man believes in, what he loves—if he’s not willing to die for them, he’s not worth a damn. I took that away from Binh and Tu, I wouldn’t let them die for what they believe. I fight them, but I know what makes them tick. We’re exactly alike, up to a point. I had to bring Ba Oanh out here instead of Binh’s wife and I couldn’t let Tho keep beating Tu until he died. Both of them know a dream’s worth any number of lives. The ‘holy life’ people? They’re easy. They’ll always supply their own reason for living. They’ll argue and sometimes they’ll even fight, but as soon as things get hot, they’ll be off somewhere with their reason to live. You want a philosophy? I’ll give you one. Learn to love those bastards, buddy, ‘cause they’re going to get you killed, sooner or later. They’ll go on mouthing their noble bullshit and when it’s time to make it stick, they’ll send in the scum, the fools who believed them, the professionals, and the guys poor enough and dumb enough to get drafted.”

  Harker waited patiently to see if there was more, a form of non-reaction that surprised Taylor. When the younger man determined there was nothing else forthcoming, he bobbed his head once, as if settling everything he’d heard into place, and turned away. To all outward appearances, he was satisfied. It was an odd performance and Taylor damned him for lifting the latch on such an outburst. Despite having the other man’s back to him, Taylor felt exposed. He drew his knees up and wrapped his arms around them.

  * * *

  They were up at dawn to hear the heavy drone of the approaching helicopters. The troops and villagers watched as the star performers in the drama prepared to leave the stage.

  It went uneventfully.

  Taylor watched Binh’s awkward maneuvering to board the machine with his hands bound behind his back. The shoulders twisted for balance and the leg muscles squirmed in ridged patterns to hold the body stable. No one offered to help him.

  A movement to his left caught Taylor’s eyes and he looked to see Loc assisting Ba Oanh and her daughter toward the approaching second helicopter.

  As his ride lifted off, he got another glimpse of her and thought of Binh’s wife. He thought of Harker’s question and asked himself if the idea to use Ba Oanh had its root in a genuine desire to hurt Binh and his wife. He scorned the thought as contemptible until the memory of Ly forced itself on him and he had to close his mind to everything.

  Chapter 53

  They sat in the airport bar, listening to the laughter and shouting, drinking Ba Muoi Ba in celebration. Winter raised his bottle in toast.

  “To your last swallow of this stuff, Tay. We’ll meet again some day.”

  Taylor lifted his glass. “Better times.”

  Loc and Harker joined in the ritual.

  “You will be retiring?” Loc asked, knowing the answer. “What will you do when you are a civilian?”

  “Nothing.” Taylor answered the questioning looks with a faint smile. “Oh, I’ll get a job and all, but from here on, I’m not involved. Never again. I’m going to enjoy what I can and ignore the rest.”

  “No plans at all?” Winter pressed.

  “Nope. It’s all gone, Colonel. All the caring, all the commitment, all the worry about ‘the right thing.’ I’m going my way. My way. God help anyone who messes with me.”

  “Well, that’s some relief.” Winter worked at levity. “It’s good to know you’re as hostile as ever.”

  “For sure.” Taylor was unsmiling. “I want to be left entirely alone. I don’t think that’s asking so much.”

  Loc said, “It is asking the impossible,” tapping ash from his cigarette, “but I hope it comes to you, my friend. You have earned it.”

  Taylor raised his glass in salute then said to Winter, “And what about you, Colonel? You’re short, even shorter than Harker.”

  Winter said, “Not really. I’m retiring, trying to take it right here. I’ve got a job offer.”

  “You’re kidding!” Taylor was truly surprised. “When’s all this supposed to happen?”

  “I’m still working on it. As soon as possible.”

  Taylor turned to Loc. “I’m sure you knew. Will you be working together at something?”

  Loc’s near-smile moved across his lips. “Possibly. There are many things that need done. I am not so ready to be a civilian, however. It will be a long time before I am convinced Binh has told us all he can, for instance. However, Colonel Winter and I may be involved in the same project at some time. Who can say?”

  Harker laughed. “I’ll bet on it. You two won’t give poor Charlie any slack at all, will you?”

  “I don’t really believe we’ll have much longer to trouble him,” Loc answered. There was apology in his manner and Winter shifted nervously. Without looking directly at him, Loc released the smile for another fleeting moment. He continued to speak to Harker. “My old friend grows uncomfortable. He has heard my song before and finds the melody unpleasant.”

  Taylor said, “We haven’t heard it.” He threw out his arm in an exaggerated sweep and ostentatiously scrutinized his watch. “And in thirty minutes I’ll be gone and never get the chance to hear it.”

  Loc pursed his lips before starting. “I think my country is doomed,” he said. “Once you have all gone home, I think we will be overrun.” Reading the disagreement in their faces, he continued forcefully. “It is not your fault. Certainly not entirely your fault. Your country has tried very hard and honorably to help us become a nation. Many here have abused that effort and the efforts of thousands of our own people. We have taken the worst of your culture and grafted it onto the worst of ours. It is a sickly plant.” He looked past them, past the airport, past anything they could see. “I will continue to work for my country, of course, as long as either of us lives.”

  Winter made a palms-up gesture of helplessness at the other two. “What
can I tell you? He’s getting to be the most pessimistic old bastard around. Here I’m trying to stay here and he’s telling me I won’t have any place to stay pretty soon. I think he’s trying to get rid of me.”

  Loc winked at Taylor. “Perhaps there is an empty seat on your plane?” They all laughed at that, and then Loc sobered again. He faced Harker.

  “This is where the real future lies. He is young enough to watch our final chapter and start a new one. We are all used up, as you Americans would say, but here is a man who truly holds the future. What have you to say on this memorable occasion?”

  Instead of the deferential smile they each expected, Harker slowly scanned from one to the other until their discomfort was clear. When he spoke, he bent his neck and watched his fingers massage balls of wet paper from the label of his beer bottle.

  “I agree with both Colonel Loc and Major Taylor, in a way.” He glanced apology at a stern Winter before continuing. “I don’t know if Nam’ll be overrun or killed from inside, but I don’t think it can last with us gone. And when I get back home, I don’t want anyone ever telling me again, The Army should be doing this,’ or ‘The Army should be doing that.’ The Army’ll figure out what’s best for the Army, if people like me have anything to say about it. We’ve learned from this mess, too. After this, we’ll go to war knowing what’s in it for us. If everything’s a question of politics, we’re going to be right in there. We’re being ripped off, our chance to win’s being jerked away from us. Those assholes in the States are creating a generation of officers and non-coms who’ll never forget that. Guys like Miller and Kimble and Allen—look at what they paid and what they’re getting back. For a while, everybody’s going to try to forget stuff like that. But you know someday they’ll remember how they got here, the lies they ate. The proudest men in the country have been hurt and cheated, and worst of all, they’ve been shamed. The ones back home hollering ‘what if they gave a war and no one came?’ should have thought about ‘what if we holler for help and there’s a price?’, ‘cause that’s where we’re at now. They’ve lost a war and turned loose a new animal. I’m curious as hell to see how it behaves, to tell you the truth.”

  Winter was pounding on Taylor’s shoulder. “Hey, gyrene, can’t you hear? That’s your plane they just called! Move out!”

  Harker’s speech was gone, washed away in the joy of the moment and they laughed and shook hands. The long benches of the waiting room unloaded their impatient cargo and the line was moving forward, the loud-speaker droning about senior officers and women to the head of the line and no one was caring what anyone said. It was an event that precision would never touch and disorganization would never disturb. They were on their way to The World.

  Taylor reached the fence separating the terminal from the field and slapped it as he passed through. Winter thumped him on the back one last time, and the three of them peeled off to watch him load aboard.

  Crossing the apron to the plane itself, the line spread out as water running down a window pane will shunt drops off on semi-independent routes only to draw them all to a common meeting place in the end.

  Aboard, Taylor exerted himself to get a window seat on the terminal side, knowing his friends would be looking for him. He got one, settling in, smiling at his own haste. That done, he searched until he spotted them. He held a hand to the window, waggled it, and finally pulled his handkerchief free and waved that. At least a dozen people waved back at it, none of them anyone he knew, so he tucked it back in his pocket.

  The stewardess began her spiel about oxygen masks and life jackets. Another blonde, she could have been the sister of the one he’d seen crying when he got off the plane right here at Tan Son Nhut.

  How long ago had that been? Not even a year? Inconceivable. A century. So many things. Ly.

  He snapped his head away from blank contemplation of the back of the seat and looked outside for one last glimpse as the first delicate tremble announced their movement.

  Suddenly he was looking directly into Harker’s eyes and he felt the distance between them shrinking in an elastic retraction that drew them face to face. The blue-lake eyes were calculating and although there was a glow in them, it was only the brittle gleam of crystals that reflect light and never know a warmth of their own. There was purpose there, and dedication, and he admired a myriad attributes even as he mourned their emptiness because look as he would, there was no sign of a soul.

  The motion of the plane broke the contact and Taylor’s aimless view found the blonde stewardess as she finished her lecture. She smiled at him, a lovely, happy smile.

  Afterword

  Thank you for reading Targets, if you enjoyed the book I'd really appreciate your review, as it helps other readers discover the book. Click here to leave your review on Amazon. Thank you!

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  Warrior: The Moondark Saga, Books 1-3

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  In the grand landscape of the Pacific Northwest, two great kingdoms battle to rule the inlet sea. Gan Moondark is expected to one day rule the Dog People, but war and prophesy have a different fate in store for him.

  The balance of power in the region is about to shift when a centuries old cryogenic crèche awakens. It brings to life military leaders from a long forgotten war, with weapons and technology unlike anything this world has ever seen.

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  About The Author

  Don McQuinn is an American best-selling author and retired U.S. Marine. He was born in Winthrop, Massachusetts, and lived in several places before moving to Texas. Don graduated from Galena Park HS, and after a year of military school in Minnesota he won a USNROTC scholarship to the University of Washington.

  After graduating with a BA in English, Don served twenty years in the Marines. He served the first half of his career as an infantry officer and the second half as an intelligence officer, including tours in Korea and Vietnam. He retired as a Major in 1971 and started his new career as an author not long after.

  His books have won major awards and been on bestseller lists, and he's written in genres that range from science fiction to contemporary literary fiction. He lives in the beautiful Pacific Northwest with his three grown sons.

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