Windchill Summer

by Norris Church Mailer

  It made her sick that she had cared so much for Jackie. He had so little character. If he wasn’t a pimp and a drug dealer, he was the closest thing to it. She vowed then that she would be true to Bean and make it up to him when he got back. And hope he never found out what she had done while he was away.

  Then she started the car and went back toward the lake and home.

  35.Vietnam

  Feb. 2, 1968

  Dear Carlene,

  If I ever wished for some action, I got my wish, because we sure had it the last two days. We’re up at a place called LZ Dottie, about 12 miles north of Quang Ngai City, which I may have told you is a pretty big town, and is the headquarters for the 2nd ARVN division—that’s the South Vietnamese army. We hadn’t had much in the way of action for a while, just setting the base up. It was getting ready to be a truce, because of a holiday they have over here called Tet. That’s kind of like the Fourth of July and Christmas and Thanksgiving all rolled into one, and we were supposed to have thirty-six hours off while everyone—Viet Cong and ARVN, both—partied, like they do every year. We were going to have our own party, as you can imagine.

  Anyhow, we had the party, and just after four o’clock in the morning on January 31, all h*** broke loose and the VC launched an all-out attack. We were all in bed, most of us having had a little to drink the night before—yes, even me, I hate to tell you—not thinking there was going to be any action, and we were lifted out of our beds by a mortar attack that sounded like it was right on top of us. I never got my boots on so fast in my life. The adrenaline shot through my body like it was high-test straight from the pump.

  They were hitting everything at QN City—the airfield, the headquarters of the ARVN, hospitals, churches—everything was sitting there like ducks in the water. Even more scary than that was we could see the munitions dumps going up sixty miles away at Chu Lai. If they were hitting a big city like Chu Lai, then we were dog meat. We were out there in this little old firebase and there was no place to go or nothing we could do. If they wanted to take us out they could, without breaking a sweat.

  Finally we got it together and started firing back, and the big guns came rolling in. Charlie Co. was moved out a few miles to a place called Hill 102 to try and block the enemy’s line of retreat, but it was strictly out of our area of operations, and the ARVNs should have been the ones sent to where we were, not us. They have these rules about where they fight and where we fight, but it was so disorganized and nobody knew what they were doing, so they sent us there anyhow.

  We found out that it was the 48thLocal Force Battalion of the VC that overran the training center of Quang Ngai, and it took until early yesterday morning for them to finally fold under all the firepower we threw at them, and they started their retreat—right in front of us. You won’t believe it, but we were ordered not to fire on them, that it was not our jurisdiction but the ARVN’s, which we knew already, but if they weren’t going to let us fire at them, then why the heck did they send us out there in the first place? We were all really frustrated, I can tell you.

  We watched those suckers, in their black pajamas, walk out right under our noses, and there was nothing we could do. They were heading up toward Pinkville, which is a group of villages not too far from here. The captain did his best to cut through the red tape and let us fire, but by the time he got the word, they were long gone. I will tell you this—we are going to get those gooks if it’s the last thing we do.

  We heard today that they attacked not only us up here but all over South Vietnam—even Saigon was hit hard. I don’t think all the talk about the war nearly being won means anything if they can mount an attack like this one. I would bet we are in for a long haul. I just hope I can do my time and get out of here in one piece.

  Sorry to go on so about this. I know you probably aren’t interested in the war, but it seems like that’s all I have to talk about.

  One funny thing, though. Or really it’s not so funny. Did I tell you about the rats over here? You have never seen rats like the ones in Vietnam. They are as big as cats, and a lot of them carry rabies. When you dig a bunker, the first thing you do is look for rats, because you can be sure they will be right down in there with you. I have to admit I’m as scared of the rats as I am of the VC. Anyhow, the other night, we were in bed, all covered up in spite of the heat, with our blankets tucked tight around us, even over our heads, so the rats wouldn’t get in, when Barlow—I think I told you about him, my buddy from San Francisco—jumped straight up, grabbed his gun, and started blasting away. We thought we were being attacked, and of course all of us grabbed our weapons and started firing, too. It turns out that a rat had gotten in bed with Barlow, and Barlow blew the rat all to pieces. Unfortunately, he shot up his bed, too, and it was just a miracle that we didn’t all kill each other in the process, or that he didn’t get bit. One of the guys was not so lucky. He couldn’t sleep with his head under the covers and a rat bit him in the face. Took a chunk out, the size of a half dollar, if you can believe it. He had to have those shots that they give you in the stomach that hurt like heck, and plastic surgery. It got all infected and turned out to be his ticket home, but he will have a hole in his face the rest of his life, and have to tell everyone that his Purple Heart came from a rat bite. If it is not one thing over here, it’s something else.

  We are going on patrol tomorrow. If we see the 48th,permission or not, we are going to stitch their butts. Write soon and tell me what all is going on. What is Kevin up to? Did you ever find out where Ricky Don is? If Bean is in Cu Chi, that is not very close to here. Anybody else we know over here? I miss everyone. I miss you. And I really wish you would tell me what the secret is.

  Love,

  Jerry

  36.Carlene

  Dear Jerry,

  We heard all about the Tet offensive, they’re calling it over here. It is the biggest thing that has happened in a long time. Walter Cronkite said that the war is going to end in a stalemate. Do you think that is true? The worst thing is that it is giving them a reason to escalate the war even more. I can’t believe you were right in the middle of it. I watch TV every night, thinking I might see you. Do you ever see any TV crews where you are? Those guys are pretty brave to follow the soldiers around right in the middle of battle and all, with no guns to defend themselves.

  I wish there was something I could say to help you make it easier, but things like “Take care of yourself” are useless. I know you will do the best you can, and all we can do is trust in God to take care of you. I always thought you had a guardian angel, so maybe she went to Nam with you. I know your mama and daddy and probably his whole church are praying for you, and I do believe that prayer works.

  There is nothing new, really, to tell you since the last time I wrote. Work and taking care of Kevin. That’s my life. I am not seeing anybody right now. Not that I don’t want to, but there just isn’t anybody I’m interested in. I guess I’m still carrying a torch for a tall, good-looking guy who is in the boonies of Vietnam.

  Oh, Jerry, I cried when you signed your last letter “Love.” Even if you don’t mean it, no fooling, I do still love you so much. I try not to, but I can’t help myself. I always will, and if you can’t forgive me, I will survive, but I will never be happy again. Not like I was when we were together.

  I have thought and thought and worried about telling you everything, and I still don’t know if I will mail this letter or not after I write it, but I know in my heart I have to if we are going to ever have anything together. We have to start all over if we can, and the only way to do that is to be honest with each other and vow to always tell each other the truth from this minute on. This will be long, but I have to start at the beginning so you understand everything that went on later. So here goes. Buckle your seat belt. You’re in for a rocky ride.

  There is no way to ease into this, so here it is: I shot and killed my daddy when I was thirteen. He was trying to kill himself and couldn’t do it, so he put the gun in my hands a
nd tried to make me do it. I don’t think I meant to pull the trigger, but I’m not sure. Maybe I did mean to. I was young, but I can’t hide behind that. We never got along all that great, and it ended up with him attacking me pretty bad, but I don’t need to get into that right now. The point is, he’s dead, so there it is. Everyone thought he ran out on Mama and me, but he is down at the bottom of the quarry in his pickup truck. I was afraid for years that somebody would find out and the law would come knocking on our door and take me away, but I guess nobody cared enough to find out what happened to him.

  Walter Tucker knows, though, because he helped me push the truck off into the quarry. In fact, it was his idea, and that has been part of the problem. Afterward, he started coming over a lot, and before long he was like a ghost haunting our house. I guess in a way he had a good heart for trying to help me, but sometimes I wished he would have just called the law and got it all over with. When you have to keep a secret like that, it takes over everything in your life. I hated to even see Walter’s face; every time I looked at him I saw my daddy, but there was nothing I could do about it because he sweet-talked my mother and for a long time was almost like a part of our family. I couldn’t have a minute’s privacy, because he was always there, eating out of our refrigerator, sitting on our couch, watching TV, making a mess for us to clean up all the time. He got to be as bad as my daddy was, and I didn’t feel like I could say anything to my mother about him because I was scared he’d tell her what we had done. It got to where I found reasons not to go home. At least they didn’t get married, but, Jerry, I swear sometimes I felt like I couldn’t stand being around him one more minute. I just wanted to die.

  When I met you and we started going out, it was like I had a new chance. I was really, almost, like the girls in our class who had boyfriends and necked at the drive-in. Even though I could never undo what I had done, I wanted to be clean, for you, and although I could never be a virgin again after what my daddy did, I could be washed in the blood of Jesus Christ and start a whole new page in my life.

  At least that’s what I found out when I went to a revival. It was one of those funny things that happen to you—one of those little things you don’t think anything about at the time but changes your life forever, you know? After you and I had been going out for a few months, I went into the post office one day to get some stamps, and Mr. Marshall, Cherry Marshall’s daddy, waited on me, and we started talking and he asked if I had a church to go to. I said no, and he invited me out to the Holiness, where he was a deacon, and then he told me about this revival that Brother Dane Harkness was holding in a little church up on the Ridge and said I might like to go to that, since a lot of young people went to hear him. I never knew Brother Dane to talk to, but everyone said he was the best preacher around here, and, Jerry, I felt like my soul was so black with sin that I needed the best to help me, so that same night I went up there all by myself.

  It seemed like everything he said was meant right for me when he talked about his rough experiences and how he used to be headed straight for hell until he gave his life to Jesus. I have felt like I was already in hell ever since the day I pulled that trigger and became partners with Walter Tucker.

  I went up to the altar that night and accepted Jesus as my Lord and Savior. Brother Dane and all the ladies in the church prayed with me, and I felt a load lift off my spirit like I hadn’t had in years. I never told you about all this at the time, because I knew what a good Christian you were, and I guess I felt like if you knew I had just gotten saved you would somehow know that I had been an awful sinner or something, and there was no way I could ever tell you what I had done. It was best to just pretend that I had always been a Christian, like I told your daddy when he asked me.

  Anyhow, that night I stayed and talked to Brother Dane for a long time after the service, and he seemed to understand a lot about sin and forgiveness. I knew in my heart that I had been forgiven, but I needed to tell somebody all about it, in detail, not just say, “Forgive me of all my sins,” and leave it at that. I guess I wanted somebody to help me get over it, because I knew I couldn’t do it by myself. I said that I needed to tell him some things in private, and he agreed to come out to the trailer and talk to me one afternoon. He was the nicest man I had ever met. The love and the power just flowed out of him when he looked at me, and I really needed some love at that point—not like the love you and I had, but a love from God that would wash away my sins. I had been trying to carry the whole burden too long.

  Oh, Jerry, I can’t tell you why what happened that day did—I don’t even know myself—but I’ll try.

  It was a hot afternoon, and Mama was off at work when he drove up in the yard a couple of days later. I thanked him for coming, asked him if he’d like to have a cold drink, and we went into the trailer to get some ice tea. Then we sat in the living room drinking our tea, and I told him everything—I mean everything—about Daddy and Walter and how much I loved you. I cried, and it was like Jesus Himself was listening to my troubles. It felt so good to finally let somebody know the horrible truth, to not care what happened, because I knew that it was going to be all right, that I wasn’t a bad person and Jesus loved me and forgave me.

  And then he talked. He told me some things about himself, how he still struggled every day of his life with sin and temptation, that he understood what I had gone through, and that there was nothing that you couldn’t get over and go on from, with the help of Jesus. I felt so close to him, Jerry, like I never had to anybody else, because I was finally free of the secret.

  We got down on our knees to pray, and he put his arm around me, and the feeling of his sweaty arm on my back and shoulders made me so warm and light-headed, and before I knew what was happening, we were in each other’s arms hugging, and then we were kissing and our clothes were all over the floor and we were tearing at each other like two cats in heat, and it was glorious. Even if it hurts you, Jerry, I can’t pretend it wasn’t. Maybe all those nights of you and me necking and holding ourselves back built up a dam inside of me, and Brother Dane just happened to be there to open the floodgates, but when they opened, the heavens washed down, and right there on the floor of the trailer, Kevin was conceived.

  I don’t know what you are thinking about me right now, but I want you to know that it never happened between us again. Brother Dane got dressed and went outside and sat on the steps and put his head in his hands and sobbed like a baby. He is such a good man and has tried so hard to overcome his wild past, but there was no way in this world that either one of us could have stopped what happened that afternoon.

  I swore I would never tell anybody, and up to now, I kept my word. When I knew I was pregnant, I never told Brother Dane the baby was his, even though he found out about it and came and asked me. I didn’t want for him to think he had to marry me, and I didn’t want to marry him, because I was in love with you. I let him and some other people think it was yours, and that was my biggest sin, because you were so good and so innocent that I guess I hoped somehow you would love me anyhow, and yes, I did try to get you to go all the way and then you would think the baby was yours, and that might be the thing you can never forgive me for. But I felt like I was punished when you broke up with me. All I had then was my pride, and let me tell you it was a job to try and keep any pride with the way this town is and all.

  But, Jerry, if I’m honest, I can’t, even now, after all that has happened, say I’m sorry for getting pregnant, because when I look at Kevin, I feel like he is a gift from God. I don’t know what plan God has for me, or for you, or for Kevin, but I know in my heart that he will be somebody someday. And if you can still talk to me after all this, then you are, in truth, a big person with a big heart, and I swear I will work my fingers to the bone for you as long as I live. If you can’t, then I understand. If I was in your shoes, I don’t know what I would do. I really don’t. The only good thing is that Mama finally broke up with Walter. I don’t know what she ever saw in him in the first place, but I gue
ss she was lonesome, and I sure know now what that is like.

  After I found out that I was going to have the baby, I told my mama everything, about what Daddy did and about what Walter and I did with him. Everything except who the father of the baby was. I let her think it was you, and that was wrong, but I couldn’t betray Brother Dane, even to my mother.

  Not long after that, Walter made the mistake of driving up in our yard. Mama was out working in the garden, and when he got out of the truck, she went after him, yelling like you never heard the like, about how could he do what he did and let a child carry the load of believing all these years that she had killed her miserable daddy, afraid that she was going to be hauled off to jail any minute, and not even be able to tell her mama when she needed her the most, who—on top of it all—he had lied to and made believe that her husband was off somewhere and was just too sorry to write or call and tell her why he’d left.

  He kept saying that he thought it was for the best, and she said the only thing that he thought was for the best is all the free food he had got at our house, and free laundry, and free loving, while she bought the groceries and paid the bills, and him not asking her to marry him because she already had a husband who was off somewhere.

  She got so worked up that she finally went after him with a pitchfork. He jumped in the truck and locked the doors while she pounded and broke the windshield, yelling that if he ever set foot in our yard again, he would have a bullet between his eyes and a home in the quarry, and she didn’t mean maybe.

  She’d do it, too. I should have told her everything years ago. I should have told her the day it happened. But I was scared, and thought she would never forgive me, that she was not strong enough to stand it. I should have known that anybody who could work eight hours in the chicken plant every day and sell Avon to the women in the break room could do anything. She is my best friend, now, and my rock. I just wish I hadn’t lost all those years when we could have been leaning on each other instead of her leaning on Walter. Everything might have turned out different.