THE GOOD SOLDIER

by Paul C. Steffy

  “No, it’s been too long.” I racked my brain, but I had no reference point in mind.

  “We were going to Long Bien to the ammo dump, to be shot at again by the VC at a different place on the map. Next thing I knew, we were riding along a busy, wide boulevard in Saigon on top of our tracks, having one heck of a great time sightseeing. I have no idea what part of the city we were in, but all of a sudden, we started seeing lots of great-looking American secretaries. They were like fashion models, dozens of them. You know the kind—breathtaking, stunning women who belong on Fifth Avenue in New York. With every step, they look fantastic and are there for all the world to see. They smiled, waved, and yelled ‘hello’ to us. As far as we were concerned, they were all young babes looking for dates. Of course, they weren’t, but we pretended! We yelled and waved at them, too. Half a block later, I was crushed. The babes were gone. But I did look up just in time to see a row of huge white letters proclaiming ‘Continental Hotel’ high above the sidewalk on the roof of a building. Then I got the urge to turn and look up. Across the square I saw the sign for the Caravelle Hotel, the other famous guesthouse for reporters in Saigon. I found out later that those two hotels were the hangouts of the hundreds of news people from several countries who reported on the war. I remember thinking, How in hell can I get a job in this part of Saigon and be around all of these beautiful women?”

  I shook my head. “Well, you know what Mae West said: ‘If you’ve got it, flaunt it!’ I wish I’d seen those luscious young gals, but I recall absolutely nothing about any American women waving to me on a sidewalk in Saigon. I must have been in the same column of vehicles with you because I made the ride that day to Long Bien. I saw you there after the first big explosion. Maybe I was down inside my track getting a warm beer out of the cooler!”

  “Knowing you, you probably were down there, drinking as many as you could get your hands on and hiding the empty cans,” Wes said. This time, he smiled, and I could tell he felt better.

  We listened to the piano player until she took her first break. Damn, she looked so fine!

  “It’s nine-thirty. By the time we get back to the hotel, I’ll be ready to get some sleep.”

  “Yeah, me, too,” I said.

  We left the bar, rode the elevator to the street level, and walked back to our hotel. I couldn’t wait to turn out my light and get under the sheet. Within ten minutes, I was probably snoring.

  XV

  I knew I had no one to ask about the village location that interested me. It was a done deal. I’d never find it. Or so I thought!

  On our remaining daily tours, we visited a few more special-interest sites each day, and we stopped at more villages that had changed greatly since our army days. In our hotel meeting room after our tour the next day, John showed us a DVD about the modern transformation of Saigon. The narrator spoke perfect English without an accent, and the twenty-minute segment of time-lapse viewing was recorded during five of the busiest construction years in the city. John’s personal copy came from the Ho Chi Minh City Chamber of Commerce. John told us that the chamber had hired a Hollywood film company for the final production, and the overall DVD quality was excellent. John gave presentations in the United States twice yearly to veteran groups that were considering tours of South Vietnam, and he always showed them the DVD. Several of the tallest buildings in the city were included on it. Their construction years were shown along with the demolition and reconstruction of a few old poverty-stricken areas. Many inhabitants of decrepit slum zones now have basic housing, and choice real estate property areas have become modern living and shopping centers. In the growth process, the number of city parks and public squares increased substantially. This was not an easy accomplishment in a city of 7.4 million people.

  On our last day full day in Vietnam, we spent our time traveling and seeing Tan An and its environs in Long An Province. In 2009, the town officially became a city of forty-eight square miles and 165,000 citizens. We arrived at Tan An at 10:00 a.m. and saw plenty of sights, including a huge marketplace. We had lunch, and then we went to see three outlying villages.

  As we got closer, I started to get excited. My unit had moved to the Tan An area when I had one month remaining in country. We were told it was our new base camp, although the bulldozed, one-half-square mile of jungle that was buried in mud during the rainy season and a choking dust bowl in the dry season was hardly an equal trade for Bearcat, our original base camp. It had many great new amenities, although we seldom saw or enjoyed them due to our being in the jungle most of the time. I realized now that our move to Tan An had happened within the perfect timeframe for me to have received my gift of artwork from the elderly woman.

  Two miles outside of Tan An, we approached what was left of a long-abandoned village. Tran drove off the road a safe distance and stopped the bus.

  “This village wasn’t rebuilt after it received a second VC burning and shooting spree within two years in mid-1969,” John remarked.

  “May I get off the bus for ten minutes?” I asked.

  “Sure thing.”

  “I want to walk around. I think this is the village I’m looking for. Locating it is one of the main reasons I’m on this tour.”

  “If any of you want to step off the bus at any of these places, it’s quite all right. We’ll take a few minutes to help bring back memories.”

  I had great hopes of remembering something—anything. I walked around the village in a semicircle on the roadside and took several photos. Seeing this village remnant, I thought, Is this it? Yes, I believe it is! It’s the right size, and I remember this narrow part of the river being nearby. Yes, yes, this must be the village! I’m remembering all of it now. There was one main street through the middle just like this one. Now it’s covered in jungle growth. This must be where I met the old woman. Oh my God, I’ve found it! This has to be the one! I hope it is. I can almost believe in my heart and soul that it is! If only someone would verify it. That’s probably asking too much. How could I ever meet someone who’d remember?

  “Wes, do you remember this place?” He was a few feet behind me. “Just one second opinion will reassure me that I’m right.”

  “Are you kidding? I spent one week in this area and hated it! I couldn’t wait to get out of Vietnam, and this place was one of the reasons. It was a mud hole when I was here. As far as any of these poverty-stricken villages goes, I doubt if I was still going on patrols with only one week to go. All of these places look peaceful and livable for the locals now, but I was glad to get out!”

  Well, you’re no help, I thought.

  A few minutes later, we climbed back inside the bus and drove away. I hated to leave, but I was the only one with an interest in the abandoned village. I felt wonderful about finding the village after all these years, but thinking of its tragic demise bothered me.

  We rode along in silence through three more bustling villages on our way back to Saigon. Some of the other guys made a few idle comments about the scenery, but I was preoccupied with my own thoughts. Before this trip began, I had resigned myself to thinking that I was not meant to locate the village, so the fact that I had was thrilling. As for learning the fate of the old woman, I doubted if that was possible in this lifetime.

  “I’m glad you found your village. I know it’s important to you,” Wes said. He took off his baseball cap, scratched his head, and put it back on at a slight angle. “It’s been nearly fifty years. Some guys wouldn’t even remember the event, let alone so many details. I’m happy for you, really, I am!”

  I sat back on my bus seat and tried to relax, but I was so full of high energy from my discovery that it was difficult to contain how thrilled I was. It had been a long shot, and I knew it. Locating the village was miracle enough. Learning anything about the woman or her family would be tantamount to winning the lottery.

  Now I was ready to leave the countryside behind and fly out of Vietnam. I
was thankful for the revelation about the village, but I’d seen all of the jungle greenery, dirt roads, poor people, and sad places I wanted to see—and it was getting to me. I was ready for some peace and quiet and for being alone in my apartment to sort out this trip. I knew that once I got home, I’d be spending many hours alone thinking about what I’d seen, remembered, and experienced in the presence of these other vets. We’d all have our own sets of memories—some bad and some good—to sort through from our time in Vietnam.

  The bus finally arrived back in our parking space at the hotel. It wasn’t so hot that evening, and John had already told us about the big meal planned by the tour company. We were to meet at 7:00 p.m. in the China Sea Restaurant on the top floor. Wes and I hadn’t bothered to stop by to see the place because we knew we’d be eating there that night. I wanted a shower, a drink or two, and some time by myself. I told Wes I’d meet him outside the restaurant at 6:50, and he was fine with the idea.

  That evening, I was on time outside the restaurant, but Wes was not there. My watch showed 7:00 p.m., and then 7:05 p.m., and then 7:10 p.m., and still there was no sign of Wes. I went inside the restaurant, told John what was happening, and used the reservation desk phone to call Wes’s room. There was no answer. I took the elevator to his floor and ran to his room. When I knocked on the door, I heard a muffled yell from inside his room. I went to the phone at the end of the hall and called the front desk.

  Within two minutes, an employee arrived on the elevator and ran straight to Wes’s door. The employee had a key card and let us in.

  When we entered, I was shocked at what I saw. Wes was lying on the floor in the bathroom, and he was pale and unable to say much.

  “Chest pain. I need help,” he managed to say.

  “Can you breathe all right?” I asked.

  The shower was running full force, and Wes was naked and shivering on the cool tile floor. The employee used his handheld radio to call the front desk for an ambulance while I tried to help Wes as much as I could. I grabbed the biggest towel on the rack to put over his shoulders for warmth and helped him up sit on the toilet.

  “Yes, but the chest pain is getting worse.”

  I used a smaller towel to begin drying him while the hotel employee turned off the shower.

  “Can you walk to the bed?”

  “I think so. Let’s try.” We wrapped the towel around him and made it out of the bathroom.

  It was slow going, but we finally got Wes to the bed. He sat on the side of the mattress, and I knew from his expression that he was in pain.

  “Get me some clothes. I don’t want to go to the hospital naked.”

  I dressed him with the clothes he’d worn on our trip that day because they were handy. I put on his socks and shoes and got his money belt from the table that held the TV and lamp.

  “Give me my watch.”

  I put it on his wrist and straightened his hair what little I could. While we waited for the ambulance, I patted dry his face, neck, and hair.

  “Well, you’re looking pretty good considering how I found you. How are you feeling?”

  “The pain is a lot less. I’m sure glad you showed up when you did!”

  Just then, two ambulance attendants entered the room rolling a low gurney. Two more followed them into the room. They instantly had Wes flat on the bed with monitors and sensors attached to him.

  “I’m feeling a lot better now than when you arrived,” he said to me.

  “You’re looking a lot better, too,” I responded. To myself I thought, Jesus, I hope he doesn’t die on me!

  The medics conferred among themselves, and one of them used his cell phone. There was a lot of conversation during the phone call.

  Finally one of the medics said to Wes, “We’re taking you to the hospital now. Your heart is improving, but you may need more treatment, and you will have to see a doctor.” Then he looked at me and asked, “Would you like to go with him?”

  “Sure, I’ll go.”

  I don’t know how far we actually rode, but the distance was short, five minutes or less. We drove through a driveway similar to those found at most large hospitals with the red sign that usually says “Emergency,” but this one was in Vietnamese, French, and English. The medics took Wes inside to the ER. I went to the hospital waiting room. Considering the size of Saigon, there weren’t many people seated around me.

  An hour later, a nurse came out and asked for me by name. She stood in front of me—all four feet, eleven inches of her—and gave me the latest news on Wes.

  “Mr. Thomas, I’m happy to report that your friend, Weston Lane, is doing much better. He needs to stay here at the hospital tonight, but if nothing changes, he’ll be released tomorrow. He will need to tell you any further details about his condition.”

  “What time can he leave, and will he be able to fly back to the United States tomorrow?”

  “You will need to ask his doctor for those answers. For such a long flight, Mr. Lane needs to meet certain criteria to satisfy the airlines. His doctor will answer all of your questions. Wait here for another half hour, and then go to that window.” She pointed to the farthest one. “They will give you his room number.”

  “Thank you very much,” I said. “You have been very helpful.”

  “I am very pleased to help you, Mr. Thomas. I wish Mr. Lane a quick recovery. Good-bye.”

  I waited the required time, found out Wes’s room number, and paid him a visit. I climbed the stairs to the third floor, walked along the hallway to the seventh door on the left, and entered his room. It was new and modern and barely looked any different from a hospital in the States. The two other men who shared the room were sitting up in their beds and speaking with visitors, probably family. It seemed odd to hear a completely different language spoken and see the signs in Vietnamese and French. In this instance, Wes and I were the visitors.

  “Hey, what’s the matter?” I asked Wes as I approached his bed. “You wanted room service, the hotel wasn’t fast enough, and you did this?”

  “I wish it were so simple. No actually, I think I’m stuck here in Vietnam for at least three more days. The doctor said that the airlines and hospitals have four things they watch for. First they want to know if it’s my first event—and he did say it wasn’t a heart attack, merely an event—and yes, it is my first. Then they want to know if I’m under sixty-five, but actually, I’m sixty-seven. Next they want to know if I have other complications, which I don’t. Finally, they want to know if there are other treatments planned. Nope, thank God! But because I’m older, I can’t fly back for three days, as of now. It’s all right though; I’ll ask John if he’ll be available to help me. I don’t want you to stay, or even offer to change your flight to assist me. It isn’t necessary.”

  “I’ve already asked him myself. I called his cell phone from the waiting room here in the hospital while I was waiting to get your room number. I told him why we aren’t at the dinner. He’s very concerned about you. He said that he’s not leading any tours until next week. If you stay for a few extra days, he’ll help you get to the airport and onto your flight. So, it sounds like you’ll have the necessary help ready and able to give you a hand. Oh, and he sends his best wishes for a speedy recovery. He also said that this happened once before, and the vet had to stay for three extra days then, too. Just keep in mind, if you didn’t have anyone else to help you, I’d stay and go back with you. You can bet on that!”

  “My doctor says he’s keeping me until noon tomorrow. You’re supposed to be at the airport at 8:00 a.m.. I know you need to pack and all. Don’t try to come and see me tomorrow; you’ll have plenty to do.”

  Our eyes met, and I could see that this departure was going to be emotional for both of us.

  “We’ve already exchanged cell phone numbers and e-mail addresses. Brad, I’m sure glad we had the chance to see one another again. I’ve enjoy
ed seeing the places we did, sharing memories, and talking about some of what happened decades ago. I’m glad you found your village.”

  “It’s good to see you again, Wes. I’m so sorry about your wife. I wish you the best in everything. We’d have had more laughs if we’d known one or more of the other guys.”

  As I stood beside his bed, we talked about a few other things that had happened during the war and about some of the tragedies both of us had somehow survived without a scratch. I had never talked about those things with anyone else since I got out of the army. I had lost touch with everyone, and I think Wes had, too. Now, I felt this trip had been part of our shared destiny.

  “Stay in touch, OK?” We shook hands firmly.

  “Thanks for coming here with me. This thing sure took me by surprise. I’ll call John later tonight and get things set up with him. Brad, thanks for everything! If you don’t hear from me within two weeks, give me a call. I don’t want to lose touch with you again. Take care of yourself.”

  “I’ll never forget this week. I know I’m going to get these old memories out of my head and straighten up my life. And maybe, if I’m lucky, Sue and I can have a world-class relationship.”

  We shook hands again, and it felt great to be in touch with someone who shared the best of times and the worst of times with me nearly five decades ago. I smiled and nodded, turned, and walked out of his room.

  As I walked down the hallway toward the stairs, I had tears in my eyes. I sure hope Wes recovers easily, I thought to myself, but I won’t know for at least another week until one of us makes the phone call.

  XVI

  The next morning, our bus dropped us off at the airport earlier than we had expected. Before we left the bus, John shook our hands and wished us all the best.

  “Fellas, it was my pleasure to show you around for the past seven days. If you know anyone who wants to make the same trip, or the ones for two or three weeks, referrals are nice, too. The tour company and I will do our best to show them an enjoyable time. Take care of yourselves, and stay in touch if you like. Let’s see, who lives in San Francisco?”