by Tom Wilson
He decided that she was indeed a virgin, and the thought excited him. She'd have the honor of becoming the fourth real notch on the old musket, along with precisely forty-one smaller ones, who included two of his parents' maids, his wife, her older sister, three of his secretaries, an Air Force nurse, and an assortment of high-class hookers. But who counted?
Friday, July 7th, 1030 Local—Ponderosa BOQ
Major Lucky Anderson
Lucky went into the BOQ day room and spoke for a while with a couple of new lieutenants, then asked one where he could find Captain DeVera.
"Probably in his room," said one. He gave directions. "He spends a lot of time there."
"Thanks." Lucky went to the refrigerator and liberated a beer, adding a quarter to the can on the counter. Then he walked through the hall and knocked at Manny's door.
DeVera looked like shit when he peered out. "Oh, hi, boss," he mumbled.
Lucky sipped beer and stared.
"You need something?"
Billy Bowes walked by, on his way to his room, and nodded sheepishly at Lucky, as he'd done since the ass-chewing. Lucky ignored him.
"Let's take a walk, Manny," he said.
"Do I need to put on a uniform?" He was wearing a T-shirt, jeans, and thongs.
"You're fine as you are. See you outside." Lucky went through the day room, then outside where he sat at one of the picnic tables and sipped cold beer as he waited.
A couple of minutes later Manny came out and sat across from him. He smelled of mouthwash, and his eyes were hidden behind sunglasses.
"You been drinking already, Manny?"
DeVera shrugged. "Not much to do, being off flying status."
"A lot of paperwork's piling up at the squadron."
Manny mumbled, "I'll get right to it."
"I need you back in the cockpit, Manny. I can't lead 'em all."
DeVera looked uncomfortable. "How about Billy? He's on flight-lead orders."
"So are the others now, but it's not the same. I need you because of your experience in the Thud."
DeVera paused for a long moment. "Doc Roddenbush won't let me back on status."
"I just talked to him. He says you complain about your hand hurting, but you refuse to go to the hospital at Clark so they can look at it."
DeVera shrugged.
"It's been six weeks now, Manny."
"You think I'm lying about the pain?"
Lucky regarded him evenly. "I think it's time to either shit or get off the pot."
"Goddammit, I . . ." DeVera looked away, in obvious turmoil.
"You know, the other day I was talking to Henry Horn, and he told me something because he was feeling guilty and had to unload his mind. You're assistant C-Flight commander, so I feel I should share it with you."
Manny looked back sharply. "Is Henry okay?"
"He didn't think so. Said he's scared shitless every time we go north. Doesn't matter if we're going to the lower packs or up to pack six, he said he starts thinking about how a golden beebee's going to shoot him down."
Manny released a ragged breath.
"He said he thinks he's a coward. The only reason he didn't talk about it earlier was because the rest of us never act like we're afraid."
DeVera's eyes were downcast, as if he were inspecting the wood on the tabletop. "You shitting me?" he finally asked.
"I'd never lie to a member of my flight. I'm telling you because you're my assistant, and I thought you ought to know. You think I'm lying, then I should shut up right now."
DeVera didn't look up from the table, but he appeared interested. "Henry's a steady guy," he ventured.
"I think so too. Billy flies a better stick, and Joe is smoother, but Henry is damned reliable, and maybe that's best of all."
"Yeah."
"Anyway, Henry's got fifty-nine missions now, and he's worrying about not making it home to his wife and new daughter."
"What did you tell him?"
"Not a lot I could tell him about his chances of making it through a tour. All I could do was give him some advice about how to deal with his shakes and jangles."
"Yeah?" Manny pursed his lips in thought.
"I told him I do what a guy who'd flown combat in Korea told me a long time ago."
Manny leaned just a bit closer.
"When we come off the tanker and start toward North Vietnam, I give myself this little pep talk, like it's a football game we've gotta win and I want to get myself charged up."
Manny looked up to stare at him through the sunglasses.
"Then I think about all my options, how if a MiG shows up I'll handle the switches and fight him, and if we get a SAM launch how I'll handle that. I think about which way I'm going to come off the target, and then how I'm going to bring the guys home."
"Maybe it's hard for Henry to stop thinking about . . . negative things."
"What I don't do is take my mind off what I'm going to do. I concentrate on getting charged up, and what I'll do. I keep my mind on the offensive and think how I'm going to kick the shit out of the target. Let the enemy worry about losing, because I'm not going to." He waited for DeVera to participate.
Manny was thinking about it and took his time. "Maybe it's different with Henry about the way he's got to handle his problem. You think of that?"
"Maybe. But my way works, Manny, and it's worked for fighter jocks for a long time. Colonel Mack over at the 357th squadron told me he was told about that trick all the way back in the Second World War. So why try to change something that works?"
Manny blew a long, tortured breath. "What if the enemy does shoot you down?"
"When I'm coming down in my chute, I'll think of how I'm going to get away so I can be rescued. And if I fail and they capture me, I'll think of how I'm going to resist them."
Manny was nodding very slowly.
"Whenever I fly, I figure the poor bastards have a problem on their hands, Manny, because by God they do."
"So what did Henry say to all that?"
"You know Henry. He listened hard and said he'd take the advice."
"He's a good man," Manny said again.
"Yeah, so keep it quiet, okay? He thinks people might think he's a coward."
Manny raised an eyebrow. "You ever had those thoughts? Worrying about getting killed or shot down?"
"No, guess I haven't. But that's probably because I use the advice I gave Henry and never let myself come off the offensive."
Again Manny slowly nodded.
"Anyway, I wanted you to know. I figured since you'll want a few easy counters down in packs one and two while you're coming back up to speed, you might want Henry to fly a few down there with you so he can try what I told him and build his confidence."
Lucky stood, done with what he'd come to do.
"Thanks, boss," said Manny DeVera, but he said it very low, and Lucky acted as if he hadn't heard.
Captain Manny DeVera
Major Lucky drove away in a squadron pickup, back toward the main base, and Manny went inside. The two lieutenants were still there, talking about a python one of the guys in the 333rd squadron had bought for five bucks, and how the guys in their Ponderosa had told him that either the snake or they had to go.
Then one of the lieutenants asked if he could pick up anything for the rest of them, because he was going to take the van to the exchange to buy cigarettes.
Manny told the lieutenant to hold up, that he'd need a ride to the base clinic as soon as he put on his flying suit.
He went to his room and changed, thinking about what Major Lucky had told him.
Henry Horn was a good shit and shouldn't feel bad about having human worries, Manny thought. If Henry just knew what Manny had been going through, he'd likely feel better. But of course he wouldn't know, because the Supersonic Wetback wouldn't let on. At least not for the present, he wouldn't.
He was going to the clinic to ask Doc Roddenbush to put him back on status. If the gomers killed him, so fucking what? That wo
uld be better than living in hell.
Thursday, July 13th, 0945 Local—Li Binh's Villa, Hanoi, DRV
Colonel Nguyen Wu
He was elated. More, he was ecstatic! Nguyen Wu had returned to Hanoi two days before to a hero's welcome rally at Ba Dinh square and had just been appointed to a position he'd previously only dreamed of. The perfect position for him.
He was to be Assistant Commissioner of People's Safety within the Ministry of Internal Affairs, his duties to oversee the reeducation of criminals, dissidents, traitors, and incorrigible recalcitrants. Whenever the party told the Ministry of Justice to classify a person as any of those, Nguyen Wu would supervise his reeducation.
Nguyen had just spoken to the Commissioner, whom he'd previously heard mentioned only in careful whispers, and had been charged with his new duties. The Commissioner had been impressed by the assignment of such a young military colonel as his assistant, and even more impressed that the suggestion to assign him had come from the Lao Dong party.
The Commissioner controlled the secret police and other important state functions and reported directly to First Minister Pham Van Dong. The people called him the "Commissioner of Death" in whispers, but that was more often shortened to just "the Commissioner." He was undoubtedly the most feared man in the Democratic Republic.
Li Binh had told him the Commissioner had once been a friend of Xuan Nha's. But his uncle's name had not come up during the interview, only that of his aunt Li Binh, the newest member of the People's Central Committee. The Commissioner knew where the power lay.
He'd said that Wu's new position would require diligence and honesty.
What was Nguyen Wu if not diligent and honest?
After a very few minutes of conversation, mostly discussing the health of his venerable aunt Li Binh, Nguyen Wu knew they would get along well.
With his interview complete, Nguyen Wu hurried to his aunt's villa to thank her properly for what she'd done for him. He would show her the joy and gratitude he felt. He admonished himself to be clever and make her gasp with wonder as she sometimes did when she was carried away with her pleasure.
Li Binh thought she understood his strangeness, believed he could copulate with her only in very dim light because he was shy. She must never realize that it was her power that aroused him, that when he caressed her lean body, he dreamed of a man's, or that he needed the darkness because each time he plunged into her thin body, he imagined it was being done to himself.
Nguyen Wu preferred the raw masculinity of brawny men and didn't dare let her discover how often he found true comfort with old Sergeant Ng or some other rugged soldier. He shuddered to think what Li Binh might do if she was to find out.
His mind reeled with excitement as he entered the front door of the villa, but the womanservant said Li Binh hadn't yet arrived. She was still at the early meeting of the Central Committee, giving her report of how things had gone in Paris.
He took tea from the womanservant, whom he despised. She was subservient enough, but often she hinted that she would willingly spread her legs for him. Which was why he disliked the presumptuous whore.
He wondered if Xuan Nha had bedded her when he'd been master of the home. It seemed something his arrogant uncle might do.
So what do you do now, uncle?
He laughed. It was unlikely that Xuan Nha, once called the Tiger of Dien Bien Phu, would ever bed anyone again. Who would have a maimed man who was so unsightly? Surely not Li Binh. She was sickened more by the very sight of him each time she visited.
His mind wandered back to his new appointment.
It was precisely what he'd wanted from the beginning. A position not easily observed or critiqued by others, yet one that could be powerful. No man would trifle with him, for there were ways to steer the investigations performed by the Commissioner's people. And once he got his hands on a person he disliked to reeducate him . . .
He thought of Quon, who he knew had engineered his banishment to the South, and his mind filled with hatred. Perhaps, he wondered . . . but then cast the thought aside. It would be too much to hope for.
Thanks to his wonderful aunt it was he, not Quon, who was the hero mentioned in the party newspaper. The newspaper's adulations must stop now that Wu held the new, secretive position, but Quon would have difficulty regaining the party favor he'd once held.
Quon was distraught over his son's death. Li Binh had told him that Quon's fascination with revenge was taking more and more of his time and energies, and that the generals were increasingly upset with him.
Although Nguyen Wu vowed never to act rashly again, as he had with his plan to discredit Quon's MiGs, or the other one to kill Quon's son, those plans had indeed worked. He had become the hero and Quon the outsider.
Li Binh knew nothing of those plans, for he'd been afraid to tell her.
He sipped his tea thoughtfully, then quickly rose to his feet as the ever-energetic Li Binh burst happily through the door of the villa. He sank to his knees before her, expressions of love and gratitude spreading across his face.
1120 Local—Bach Mai Hospital, Hanoi
Colonel Xuan Nha
It was a good morning for Xuan Nha. The pain had diminished even more. All of the bandages that had swathed his torso had been removed, and regardless of the feeling of squirming worms from the scar tissue, he knew he was healing. In a show of vanity he now even sported a linen eye patch over his missing right eye.
Quang Hanh kept him abreast of the spectacular news about Colonel Nguyen Wu's return. Two days earlier Wu had appeared at the People's Army headquarters to turn in his study of air defenses in the South to General Dung's office. Then he'd gone to Ba Dinh square and a "spontaneous" people's rally, to be acclaimed as the latest Hero of the Republic. Yesterday's Nham Dan had again been filled with reports of his heroism, and told how The People had thronged about Wu at Ba Dinh square and held their fists high to show how they shared his enthusiasm for the War of Unification.
Xuan Nha telephoned Lieutenant Colonel Tran Van Ngo, who was running things for him at the headquarters until he healed, and told him to join them at the hospital room. As they waited for Tran to arrive, Quang Hanh continued to read the article haltingly, as if he could not believe the newspaper had actually printed such lies about the man he knew.
Poor Quang Hanh, thought Xuan, still does not wish to understand.
When Tran arrived, Xuan ordered the door closed behind him, and the three of them huddled and spoke in hushed voices.
Tran said Nguyen Wu's study had been forwarded to him from General Dung's office. It was comprehensive and spelled out specific needs for air defenses in the South. It called for Soviet-built 23 mm, dual-barreled anti-aircraft guns, as well as for additional rapid-firing 37mm guns, and even outlined a field-training program for soldiers in the South. Tran told him that the men of his rocket-and-artillery forces, both at the headquarters and in the field, were nervous that Colonel Wu would retake his old position and reap vengeance upon them.
Xuan only grunted in response, but he was pleased about the animosities and fears. They fit well with the plan he'd decided upon.
"Did he visit the headquarters?" asked Xuan Nha.
Tran shook his head. "When I heard he was back, I prepared to relinquish the office, but he has not come near the place."
"It might be prudent," said Xuan Nha in his frog's rasp, "to learn what my nephew has been doing since his return."
Tran looked about hesitantly, and even then considered his words. "I receive reports, unofficially of course, from the men. They tell me where he goes."
So Tran was having him followed. Very good.
"I know you once told us never to become involved in politics and connivery, but . . ."
"That time has passed," croaked Xuan. "Nguyen Wu presents a threat to the Republic and . . . to us." He paused then and glanced back and forth with his single eye. "Both of you are at risk, as I am, and we must act quickly."
Quang Hanh looked frigh
tened. He'd faced death in the past, but never anything like this. Whenever it served his cause, Nguyen Wu turned against even his closest confidants. The men beneath him were used for his own aggrandizement. Those who posed a threat to his career were disposed of through disgrace or reassignment.
Xuan Nha was at least as dangerous as his nephew, but he was a soldier, and the focus of his terrible temper had always been directed upon cowardice, gross ineptitude, or the failure to follow orders. They could live with Xuan's flaws, for he was a brother warrior.
"So what have you discovered about Wu's activities?" Xuan asked Tran.
"Only where he goes, comrade Colonel. This morning, for instance, he visited the Ministry of Internal Affairs for more than an hour. He spoke with the Commissioner."
The Commissioner of Death? What would Nguyen Wu be doing there . . . unless . . .
Xuan silently considered.
Wu might want no more of his previous position. Had Li Binh obtained a new one for him? That made sense, considering their relationship.
"When he left the Commissioner's office," Tran added, "Colonel Wu went directly to your home."
"This morning?"
"Yes, comrade Colonel. You're wife joined him, and they were still inside when I received your summons. The servants were sent out of the main house, so they are alone."
Xuan Nha had become ambivalent about the fact that Nguyen Wu might be caressing Li Binh's skinny body. But there were things she did not know, or she wouldn't be so receptive to her nephew. Like many women, Li Binh was disgusted that so many Vietnamese men preferred intimate male companionship. It was odd, since she knew so many secrets, that she'd been blind to the truth about her own nephew.
Of course it could not be Xuan who would tell her.
On the occasions Li Binh had visited him since her return from Paris, they'd spoken only once about her nephew. Xuan Nha had seen the warmth in her eyes and had been careful to speak highly of Wu's selfless contributions to the national defense. She'd seemed worried about him at the first meeting, but had not mentioned her nephew since.