“We do use dogs,” he explained. “But we lose so damn many of them, we try not to. We’d rather use men, they can fire into the tunnels, the dogs can’t. At least our guys have a chance.” But admittedly, not a great one. It was a frightening thought, and she felt a chill run up her spine as they moved on, and came to another opening, this one surrounded by bamboo air tubes. “This was a good one here,” Quinn went on. “There were seven men and a woman. We figure they’ve been here all year, maybe longer.” Right under their noses. They came out at night, he explained, and did whatever damage they could at the base, sabotage, plastic bombs, hand grenades, sniping. “We’ve had a hell of a problem.”
It was quite an understatement, and for the first time, Paxton started to make notes, as a sergeant approached Quinn and told him there was a report of a sniper up ahead. He glanced at Paxton, and at Quinn again.
“Do you want them to go back to the base?” He seemed irritated to have the press there at all, and the glance he shot at them was neither warm nor friendly. But Bill Quinn seemed unconcerned. He checked his watch, and said something to the RTO, to find out if he had radio contact with the boys who were searching the brush areas they hadn’t cleared yet.
“No, they’re fine here,” Bill Quinn told the sergeant, and then went on talking to the RTO before he explained to Ralph that there was one sniper, possibly two, and they had reason to believe there might be another tunnel up ahead. “You might even get a chance to see how we clear them,” he said easily, with a smile at Paxton. She didn’t know it yet, but he was famous in Viet Nam. He and his men had found and cleared more tunnels than anyone in the history of the war, and several times, he had gone down himself, been wounded four times, decorated twice, and all his men adored him. “You have to be a little crazy to be a tunnel rat,” he always said, and it was something he looked for in his men. Something terribly brave and wild, and yet controlled enough to do what they were told. They had to be willing to die in a space barely big enough to move in. And it was Paxton’s willingness to go down for a look that had intrigued him. But his sergeant was much less intrigued with her. He was clearly annoyed when they got the confirmation of the second sniper.
“Shall I take them back now, sir?”
“I don’t think so, Sergeant,” Quinn said firmly. “I don’t think they came all the way out here for lunch. I think this is what they came for.” Like Cowboy, their driver, he was from the Northwest, and he had an easygoing, seemingly slow-moving style, but his men knew he could change to the speed of a rattlesnake about to strike in a single instant. “Would you like something to drink?” he asked as he turned to Paxton. She was dying of thirst, and grateful for the icy Coke that miraculously materialized from an ice chest. He found some for Ralph and Yves, too, and a little while later they removed to a tent in a small clearing, which he called his “office.” He answered all their questions for them, and stayed in contact with his RTO, and after two more calls, he frowned and said he thought he’d better get back outside. He didn’t like the sound of the reports about the snipers.
He looked serious when they moved forward again, and this time he told Paxton and Ralph to fall back. Yves was crouching low in the brush and taking pictures with a long lens of something that had struck his interest. And then, barely more than an instant after they’d moved forward again, there was sudden movement in the brush, and an explosion of artillery fire just ahead, as everyone dove to the ground, including Paxton.
Bill Quinn crept ahead, and the boy on the radio was frantically trying to make contact with someone. “Come in, Lone Ranger, this is Tonto … Lone Ranger, do you hear me? What you got there?”
The voice that came back was staccato. And the RTO reported in rapid order to the sergeant. They had two snipers, and six VC, who had appeared seemingly from nowhere. Quinn was right. They had another tunnel.
Ralph looked at her as they crouched close to the ground, and she was suddenly grateful that she had kept on her flak jacket and her helmet. “We picked a nice day to come here,” Ralph said ruefully.
“At least it’s not dull.” She smiled, trying not to appear frightened.
“You’ve been here too long,” he said above the noise. “You’re becoming a hardened case.” And as he said it, the sergeant reappeared at their side, with an irritated look at Paxton.
“The captain wants you to fall back, please,” he said, sounding like an elevator operator in a department store, and his manner instantly annoyed both Ralph and Paxton.
“Any reason why members of the press are being excluded?” Ralph asked brusquely, checking around for Yves, who was still taking pictures with his long lens and seemed satisfied with what he was getting.
“Yeah, I’d say there’s a good reason, mister,” the young sergeant snapped. “You’ve got a woman with you, and we’d prefer it if neither of you got shot, if you don’t have any objection.” His accent was pure New York, and so were his manners. “Sound reasonable to you?”
“No, as a matter of fact.” Ralph looked him straight in the eye as Paxton watched. “I don’t think sex has anything to do with press. If she’s willing to take her chances, buddy, let her.” He wasn’t being unkind, he was treating her with respect, and Paxton liked it. He figured that if she was in Viet Nam, she was there to do a job, and she was. And she was grateful to him.
“And you’re willing to take the responsibility if she gets killed?” the sergeant from New York almost snarled. The name tag on his fatigues said “Campobello.”
“No, I’m not,” Ralph said fairly. “She took that responsibility herself when she took this job, just like I did … just like you did, Sergeant.”
“Be my guest.” He turned around and crawled through the brush, and a moment later, she followed Ralph a little closer to the action. They had moved ahead now, and the radio operator had called in a couple of choppers to take a closer look, and now the VC were firing at the chopper.
“Lone Ranger …” He was calling him again. “What you got?”
There was a yell of pleasure at the other end. “Hello there, Tonto, I got two Indians down, and one wounded … very nice … thank you for the assistance, and keep those cards and letters coming.” And then suddenly a more ferocious sound. The M-60 machine gun had exploded into action … two hand grenades … and then suddenly before she knew it, somebody had grabbed her. A powerful arm had come up and around her shoulders, and she was being dragged backward by a force so strong, she didn’t know what had hit her. And as she hit the ground, she felt the shudder of what seemed like an enormous explosion. The VC were throwing hand grenades now, too, and one had just missed her. The radio operator had deserted his post, and Ralph dove into the bush almost into the arms of the sergeant. But she would have been hit, if Bill Quinn hadn’t grabbed her and run like hell, risking his life with hers. And as she lay facedown in the dirt, with his long limbs sprawled across hers, it took a moment to realize what had happened.
“Did I hurt you?” He looked concerned as she shook her head, and moved around a little stiffly, but he told her to keep her head down, even though the ground troops had advanced on the Viet Cong and the sounds of gunfire were a little farther in the distance.
“No, I’m fine.” But he had knocked the wind out of her, and he dusted her face off, and then he smiled.
“You look like a kid who just took a fall in the dirt.”
“I feel like a kid whose life has just been saved.” She looked at him seriously. “Thank you.”
He seemed unimpressed and unruffled, but it was what he was famous for, and why people liked him. He would have done anything for his men, at any cost to himself, and he never asked anyone to do anything he wouldn’t do himself. Which was why he was so deeply loved and trusted.
“I guess Tony’s right … I should have waited a few days before I had you all come out here. I didn’t realize Ralph would bring a friend.” He looked at her apologetically and then helped her up slowly.
“I’m glad we cam
e. The tunnels are amazing.”
He smiled in answer, impressed by her pluck, and pleased by her fascination with the tunnels. It was a job he had come to love, as long as he had to be there. There was a real challenge to it, some mystery, a lot of danger, and you had to think the way they did to catch them. “I like what I do.” He smiled quietly and she found herself anxious to write a story about him, but she was afraid to ask. This was Ralph’s turf, not hers, and she didn’t want to annoy Quinn, or step on anyone’s toes by being pushy. The sergeant had already made it clear enough that they were all intruders. And now that things had gotten more complicated, she didn’t want to annoy him. “You’ll have to come back again, after we clear this one. You wouldn’t believe what you find down there.” She still remembered the stench of the tunnel she’d barely entered. “I mean, weapons. Most of the weapons the VC use are stolen or captured from the GIs,” he explained, “artillery, Soviet goods, Chinese tools, medical supplies, textbooks … it really teaches you something.” He seemed to regard tunnel warfare as the ultimate challenge. But she was almost more interested in him than in what he was doing. What kind of man pursued an entire subterranean world, looking for an enemy no one else could find, but everyone knew was there? What kind of man could win a war like that, or was willing to die trying?
“How long are you in Viet Nam for?” he asked quietly as they went to look for Ralph and Yves. The action had moved far ahead now, and the sergeant was keeping close tabs on things, along with the choppers. “A few weeks?”
“Six months.” She smiled. She already felt as though she’d been there for that long, and it had been less than a week since her arrival.
“You’re pretty young to come this far, to cover a war like this one.” She was a brave girl and he liked that. The truth was, he liked everything about her. Her looks, her balls, her guts, the way she’d gone unhesitatingly into the tunnel. He’d never met another woman like her. “Are you sorry you’ve come yet?”
“No.” She looked him in the eye. “I’m glad.” Glad and sad and scared, and sometimes happy. She knew she was in the right place at the right time, and that was at least something.
He’d been about to tell her how much he admired her when suddenly Sergeant Campobello reappeared and told him he was needed. Both snipers had been wounded and caught, two of the others were dead, and four had fled, presumably back into their tunnel. But if the snipers talked, they might get the exact location of the tunnel.
“I’d better get back to work,” he said with a quiet smile. “I’ll see you before you leave.” And then he was gone with Sergeant Campobello, and she went to find Ralph and Yves. She was covered with dirt, and almost looked like one of the men now.
“You had a close call.” Ralph looked at her disapprovingly. “You damn well better pay attention or you’re going to get your brains blown out.” He hadn’t liked her going down into the tunnel either. “Pay attention, Delta Delta. These people aren’t shooting blanks out there.”
“I’m being perfectly careful,” she snapped at him. “They threw a fucking hand grenade my way. They almost got the radio operator too. What do you expect me to do, wait in the parking lot while you get the stories?” she blazed at him, and suddenly he laughed. She was just like he had been at her age, anxious to get out there and stick her neck out, and get the biggest and the best and the most dangerous story.
“Okay, kiddo, go for it. But don’t come crying to me if you get wounded.”
“I won’t,” she grumbled as she dusted herself off again and he continued to laugh at her.
“You look like shit, you know that?” And with that, she started to laugh too. It had been an interesting day, and she liked Bill Quinn, maybe even a little more than she should have.
He came back after a while, when they were ready to leave, and thanked them for coming to Cu Chi, and he offered Paxton a tour of the base next time. In the meantime, he had to leave them pretty quickly. They were busy interrogating the prisoners.
“See you in Saigon, Ralph. Maybe we can have dinner next week.” Ralph nodded, and Quinn waved to them as they drove off. They didn’t see the sergeant again, which was probably just as well, Paxton decided. He obviously hated them, and had no desire to cooperate with the press. Not that it mattered. They’d done a good day’s work, and both she and Ralph had gotten good stories. Yves said he’d gotten some good shots too. He’d gotten a great one when they shot one of the snipers. It was sick what constituted greatness here. Two dead men and a wounded girl made a “great” story here, a great shot, maybe even an award for brilliant journalism. It was strange how you won the prize for watching people die here.
But as they drove toward Saigon, all she could think of was Bill Quinn and his body covering hers as the grenade went off, the sheer power of him as he protected her, and the look in his eyes when she rolled over. She felt guilty thinking about it. He was a married man, and Peter had only been dead for a little over two months, and yet there was something, a raw energy about the man that was undeniable, an electric current that drew her to him and that she found irresistibly exciting.
CHAPTER 14
For the next week, Paxton stayed close to Saigon. She wrote the story of the incident at Cu Chi, and a separate story just describing the tunnels. The paper was running her articles under the caption “Message from Nam, by Paxton Andrews.” And so far they had printed them all, and the Sun was syndicating them, which meant they might even turn up in Savannah, which she knew might impress her mother and brother. But it was Ed Wilson who called her himself and praised her for her insights and her obvious courage.
“You didn’t go down in one of those tunnels yourself, did you, Pax?” She smiled as she listened to him. And tears came to her eyes. He was so far away now.
“I’m fine” was all she said in answer to his questions. She asked him to let her mother know that she was alright too. She hadn’t had time to write to her yet and she knew she should have. She sent her love to Gabby and Matt and Mrs. Wilson, and after she spoke to him, she felt homesick for a day. But she got busy writing another story. She rented a car and drove herself to Bien Hoa, and she felt incredibly brave and independent. At twenty-two she was halfway around the world, discovering things she had never even dreamt of.
She was also fascinated with the black market, so one afternoon she went to Tan Son Nhut Base, where she’d arrived, to talk to some people there about the mass theft from the PX, of items that filtered directly into the black market, including uniforms and weapons. And as she walked slowly across Tan Son Nhut Base at sunset, she found herself watching a tall man in combat uniform far ahead. He had a rolling gait and a stride that seemed somehow familiar. But the sun was in her eyes, and she couldn’t see who he was. She knew so few people in Saigon anyway, that she couldn’t imagine it was anyone she really knew. And a minute later, he stopped and turned around to talk to someone. And as he did, he glanced at her, and then he walked slowly toward her. It was Captain William Quinn, from Cu Chi, and he looked incredibly handsome as he approached her, and in spite of herself, she could feel her heart pounding.
“Hi there,” he said, looking down at her as though he’d been waiting for her there. He had a slow smile that said he was seldom in a hurry. He always seemed to be relaxed and at ease, and yet from somewhere deep inside him you could sense an almost electrical tension. “What brings you here?” And then he grinned. “You look a hell of a lot cleaner than the last time I saw you.” She’d had dirt all over her face after she dived into the ground, covered by him, to avoid the hand grenade. And now she was wearing a white linen dress and flowers in her hair, and bright red sandals.
“Thank you. I’m doing a story on the thefts at the PX, of items that mysteriously reappear in the black market.”
“Oh, that.” He looked intrigued. “If you can solve that one, you get the Congressional Medal of Honor. But I think a lot of people here have a pretty big investment in seeing that you don’t. You’re talking some mighty
big money.”
“So I gather. Are you down from Cu Chi for a while?”
He shrugged nonchalantly. “Just a quick meeting with the general. I was going to drive back tonight.” He paused and she didn’t know why, but she held her breath, waiting for him. She didn’t want to care, but she did. She was so drawn to him, she could hardly make sense in his presence. He made her feel terribly young, and in other circumstances than these, she would have felt almost silly. “I know it’s short notice,” he said quietly, “but is there any chance you’d want to grab a bite to eat before I drive back? I’m in no particular hurry.” He looked deep into her eyes and the sheer power of him almost made her tremble. He was an odd combination of strength and gentleness that was difficult not to find appealing.
Her heart skipped a beat. “I’d love that.”
He seemed pleased and then thought about it for a moment. “How foolish would it seem to you if we went to the officers’ club here on the base for a hamburger and a milkshake? I’ve had a hankering for one all week,” he confessed, looking like a kid, and she laughed.
He walked her across the base as they chatted easily about Saigon, and the Caravelle, the hotel where she stayed, and about where she’d gone to school. He had played football at West Point, he explained, which was easy to believe after the save he’d made the other day, rescuing her from the hand grenade. And when they walked into the club, the Beatles were on the jukebox, and lots of people were dancing. There was an easy, down-home American feeling in the air, and for the second time since she’d arrived, she felt suddenly homesick. The first time was when she talked to Peter’s father in San Francisco.
They ordered hamburgers and fries, and she had a Coke, and he had a beer, and they watched the people dancing and listening to the music. The Beatles were followed by “(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction,” everyone’s favorite, and “Proud Mary,” which Paxton had liked when she was at Berkeley.
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