Baptism

by Donald E. Zlotnik

  The truck stopped in front of a large warehouse building, backed up to a set of double doors that opened, and three Vietnamese men jumped down into the truck and started unloading the bundles.

  The young supply sergeant walked around to the rear of the idling deuce-and-a-half and spoke up to the detail. “If any of you want to hit a steam bath before we leave, there’s a good one over there.” He pointed to a bamboo-fronted lean-to-style building down the street.

  “Who in the fuck needs a steam bath in this fucking heat!” Kirkpatrick said from the front of the truck.

  “You can get your ashes hauled too.”

  “Oh, yeah!” Brown, Kirkpatrick’s buddy, was interested. “How much?”

  “Five dollars for a steam bath and head… five extra if you want to fuck.” The sergeant looked at his watch. “I’ll wait an hour for you.”

  Brown jumped over the railing, followed by the skinny white soldier and Kirkpatrick.

  “Are you two going?” the sergeant said to Barnett.

  “Yeah… why the fuck not!” Barnett hopped over the tailgate and looked back at Woods, who shrugged his shoulders and joined him.

  The Vietnamese madam smiled, revealing a betel-nut-stained set of teeth.

  “I wouldn’t let her suck me off using your cock!” Barnett whispered to Woods.

  “There should be some better ones inside.” Woods hoped his words were true, and they were. A group of giggling, young girls in their late teens or early twenties greeted the five soldiers and showed them where they could undress. A pile of towels was stacked on a low bench. Brown had half an erection when he undressed and wrapped his towel around his waist quickly before the others could see. The steam room was small and barely held the five men. Woods stayed only for a few minutes and stepped out of the makeshift enclosure. He heard someone moan from behind a drawn curtain and guessed that some other GI was exercising his equipment.

  The girl pointed at the pallet, and Woods guessed that she wanted him to lie down on it. He stretched out on his stomach, and she began a rapid back massage that felt extremely good; she knew her business. David could feel his love muscle fighting to break free of the towel. She saw the slight upward shift of his hips and knew exactly what was going on under the towel. She was paid by the customer and didn’t waste any time. A gentle hand tugged at David’s shoulder, coaxing him to roll over on his back. He hesitated for only a second and obeyed. She hooked her finger on the top of the towel and pulled it open. David’s pride sprang free. She began to give him head in a steady, deep-throated rhythm. He had had his share of sex in school, especially college, and a couple of his more loose dates had given him head before, but it was always done with a timid touch, not like this. He was proud of the size of his equipment and couldn’t believe the girl was taking him in all the way to the base of his penis. He lasted less than thirty seconds but convinced himself that he had gone for a couple of minutes. The climax he experienced was total. She stroked him a couple of times and used the towel to clean him up.

  “Thanks.” Woods hopped down from the pallet and went back to his clothes. Barnett was already half dressed.

  “That’s pretty good stuff.” Woods threw the towel in the basket and slipped on his pants. Barnett didn’t answer.

  “Oh! Yesss… one more time, sweet lady!” The voice came from behind a far curtain, but both Woods and Barnett could recognize Kirkpatrick’s New York accent.

  “I’m holding on!” Brown answered from behind a nearby curtain. “Holding on!”

  Woods and Barnett returned to the truck before the three heads had left their booths.

  “Maybe dope does make sex better…” Woods said to Barnett as they lit up cigarettes.

  “I’ll never know!” Barnett flexed his jaws. “I haven’t done that shit before coming here, and I ain’t going to start now!”

  Woods tried changing the subject. “Man, I didn’t last very long in there. That was the best head I’ve ever gotten!” He looked over at Barnett. “How about you?”

  “It was all right.”

  “Man, I didn’t last two minutes.” Woods inhaled deeply from his Kool cigarette.

  “I hate fucking gooks.” Barnett hissed the words out.

  “Ease off, buddy.” David sensed a really deep hatred.

  “She was sucking my cock, but I couldn’t come. That’s all I thought about—how could I make love to a gook!” Barnett wouldn’t look at Woods and stared down the road.

  “Hey, man, that’s what we’re here for. You may be the only one around here with the right idea.” Woods looked closely at Barnett and saw that he was an extremely handsome young man. He hadn’t noticed that before, but Barnett was well built and had a pair of sparkling, dark blue eyes with thick blond hair that was cut short but still looked good on him. There was no reason why Barnett should have problems with women. Maybe it was just gooks and blacks; some people were like that. “Let’s get the sergeant and get back to check the bulletin board.”

  “You don’t think I’m fucking weird?” Barnett’s voice revealed his fear.

  “Like what?”

  “Queer?”

  “Hell, no!” Woods threw an arm over Barnett’s shoulder and felt the man’s muscles tighten. “I’ll tell you the truth… I didn’t last two minutes… more like thirty seconds! You don’t think I have a premature ejaculation problem, do you?”

  Barnett glared at Woods and then started laughing.

  Kirkpatrick and Brown entertained the rest of the detail on the ride back to the replacement center with a verbal battle on who was the best lover in Vietnam. Barnett stood with his back to the group, looking out over the cab of the truck. He watched the Vietnamese pass and tried picking out which ones were Vietcong.

  “I was the last one to leave the steam bath.” Kirkpatrick’s Brooklyn accent was high-pitched. “That’s ’cuz I have dick control!”

  “Dick control! Puerto Ricans don’t have any dick control!” Brown was jive-talking his friend. “If you weren’t half black, you wouldn’t even know what to do with that thing of yours!”

  “Before you get too carried away and everyone in New York knows you Harlem types don’t know shit about women, you had better come to this long-dicked Puerto Rican for some lessons!” Kirkpatrick slapped his leg and then pointed at Brown.

  Woods broke up the bullshit conversation. “I wonder if our orders will be posted when we get back?”

  The skinny white soldier rubbed his crotch before speaking. “I don’t give a fuck if they ever post any orders for me. I can handle staying here for my whole tour; there’s plenty of good blow and women.”

  “What’s your MOS?” Woods changed sides on the bed of the truck because the diesel fumes were blowing back along the right side from the exhaust stacks.

  “One-one-bravo.”

  “Thats basic infantry. You don’t have much of a chance staying here.” Woods looked over at Barnett, who was ignoring all of them.

  “What about you guys?” Woods addressed the other two men in the truck.

  “We’re both infantry.” Brown spoke for both of them.

  “That makes all of us infantrymen.”

  “Not me… I’m going to get the fuck out of that shit.” The skinny white spoke as if he knew something the rest of them didn’t.

  “How you gonna do that shit?” Brown smiled. “You got a congressman pulling for you?”

  “Nope. I’ve got two years of college, and as soon as I get to my unit, I’m going to volunteer to be a clerk.”

  Woods shook his head. “Good luck!”

  The barracks sergeant was waiting when the laundry truck pulled up to the supply tent. Woods could see the worried look on his face, as if he had fucked up in the big time and was afraid the detail wasn’t coming back. “Hurry up and get off that truck!” He ran around to the back of the vehicle. “You’re shipping out in an hour!”

  Barnett looked at Woods and then over at the sergeant. “Where?”

  “The 1st Cavalr
y Division has been in a big fight up in the Ia Drang Valley, and all the infantry MOS’s in Camp Alpha are being shipped to the Cav as replacements.”

  All five of the replacements could hear the fear in the sergeant’s voice.

  “The Cav’s having a lot of action?” the skinny soldier asked.

  “There’s rumors that the Cav has taken over five hundred casualties… so far.” The fear was still in the sergeant’s voice. The five replacements didn’t know the reason why, but the sergeant was an infantryman who had pulled some strings to stay at the replacement detachment instead of joining an infantry company in the field. He was scared that if things got too bad, he would be put out in the field with five months left to do in-country.

  “Hot shit!” Barnett jumped down from the truck. “Give me a gun!”

  The barracks sergeant’s upper lip quivered. “You’re fucking crazy!” It sounded almost like he was going to break down and cry. “Crazy!”

  TWO

  Recondo

  “Brown!”

  “Here, Sergeant.”

  “Kirkpatrick!”

  “Yo!”

  “Woods!”

  “Here, Sergeant.”

  “Masters!”

  The skinny white soldier stopped biting his lip and answered the sergeant. “Here!”

  “Barnett!”

  “Here.” The tone of voice was so threatening that the sergeant automatically looked up from the typed manifest for the owner. Barnett grinned.

  “All right! You five have been assigned to the 3rd Brigade of the 1st Cavalry Division. They’re located in Qui Nhon, on the coast up north. You’ll be leaving here within an hour!” The sergeant looked back down at his clipboard and flipped through some of the papers he had attached to it. “That is, unless any of you want to volunteer for the MACV Recondo School.”

  “What’s that?” Barnett asked.

  “A three-week course in reconnaissance and commando tactics. The 3rd Brigade needs some… ah…replacements for their long-range recon teams.” The sergeant looked up at Barnett over the edge of his clipboard. “It’s good duty, and you get the best chow and equipment in the division!”

  “Is it dangerous?” Brown was playing the odds; he knew that the division was engaged in a big battle and was taking a lot of casualties. Three weeks was a long time in Vietnam, and the battle would be over before they graduated from their training.

  “Everything in Vietnam is dangerous.” The sergeant tried to sound casual, but he was talking to a streetwise New Yorker who could see through a con job instantly or sooner.

  “Kirkpatrick and I will go.” Brown didn’t give his buddy a chance to answer.

  “Good!” He used a red Magic Marker to highlight their names.

  “Put me down.” Barnett wanted to go recon for a different reason. He looked over at Woods and questioned him with his eyes.

  David shrugged his shoulders. He liked traveling in the woods back home alone and didn’t think it would be much different in the jungle. A small group would be better than a large one. “Me too. Woods.”

  The sergeant looked over at the remaining soldier. “How about you, Masters?”

  “Naw, I want to be a company clerk.”

  The sergeant looked at him as if he was suffering from some kind of mental illness. “A company clerk? Hey, fella, you’ve got a one-one-bravo MOS.”

  “Yeah, but I’ve got two years of college.”

  “That’s great! You’ll be humping a machine gun… you know, complex machinery.”

  “How long’s the course?”

  “Three weeks.”

  “Fuck… I’ll go.” Masters didn’t like the idea very much, but it was better than going green into a major fight.

  The sergeant marked the last name and grinned. “Five out of five volunteers for Recondo School!” He looked up from his clipboard, a sarcastic smile covering the whole bottom of his face. “You all haven’t volunteered because your brigade is fighting for its ass out in the Ia Drang Valley, have you?”

  “I don’t see your ass out there!” Barnett glared at the sergeant. “Nor do I see your ass wearing a Recondo patch!”

  “You smartass punk! I’ve been in Vietnam almost eleven months!” The sergeant’s face was turning red.

  “Doing what? Fucking with replacements?” Barnett wasn’t about to back off.

  “One more remark from you and you’ve got yourself an Article Fifteen!” The sergeant’s right leg began shaking.

  Barnett tightened his lips and nodded his head slightly up and down. He knew that he had hit a nerve in the sergeant.

  The sergeant was the first one to look away. “Pick up your gear and follow me!” He led them to a helipad and pointed to a spot next to the perforated steel planking that was interlocked to make up a hundred-square-foot pad. Barnett was the first one to drop his duffel bag and take a seat on it to wait for their ride. The others followed suit in taking up seats in the hot sun. The sergeant left them and walked over to a shady spot next to one of the tin-roofed buildings to wait.

  Two hours had passed, and Barnett was the only one still sitting in the sun; the rest of the men had found places to sit on the shady side of the building with the sergeant. Barnett glared at the NCO for most of the two hours and knew that he was getting to the other man. Sweat rolled down Barnett’s chest and accumulated around the top of his pants, saturating the top three inches of his jungle fatigues.

  Woods got up from his seat in the shade and went over to where the sergeant was sitting. “Is there anywhere near here where we can buy some sodas?”

  The sergeant paused and then gave in. “Yeah, about a dozen tents down that road is a battalion store that sells sodas and snacks. Here, get me a Coke.” He handed David a dollar. “Buy yourself one.”

  “You guys coming?” Woods spoke to the others leaning against the wall. He didn’t even try asking Barnett.

  “Yeah.” Masters got up off the ground where he had been sitting. He looked back at the sergeant. “How much time do we have?”

  “The chopper should have been here an hour ago.” The sergeant pointed to the north. “Keep your eyes open for it, and get your asses back here quick if you see it landing!”

  Woods was the first one in the battalion tent that functioned as a unit exchange. A couple of tables had been set up near the rolled-up sides, and a plywood bar occupied the rear of the structure. Pallets that had brought in artillery ammunition covered the floor. He went over to the soldier who was acting as the bartender and ordered four Shasta orange sodas. A hand-painted sign behind the bar read: NO BEER SERVED UNTIL 5 P.M.! The bartender had an open beer in his hand when Woods ordered. “Throw in a Coke, too, and a couple cans of those potato chips.” He pointed to a stack of canned chips.

  Masters leaned against the bar. “Do you have any blow?” He was trying to be sarcastic.

  The bartender lifted the cover of a cigar box near his elbow and removed a clear plastic pill tube of marijuana. “Two bucks.” The bartender grinned at the new recruits.

  “I’ll be a motherfucker!” Masters was only fucking with the man. He fumbled in his pocket for the money.

  Woods was already walking back to the helipad when Masters caught up to him. “Look at this shit! This is a good idea, putting blow in a plastic pill tube. It keeps it dry.” He unscrewed the white cap and scraped his finger gently over the top. “It’s even packed down!” He couldn’t believe the buy he’d gotten on the grass. Stateside, that much blow would have cost him an easy twenty dollars.

  Barnett was still staring at the sergeant when Woods returned with the cold soda. He gave the sergeant his Coke and then carried two of the Shasta orange sodas over to Spencer, along with a can of potato chips. Barnett nodded his thanks to Woods and set the sodas down on the PSP (Perforated Steel Plate) planking in the hot sun. He continued staring at the sergeant, who had opened his Coke and had most of it already gone.

  “Is he fucking crazy?” the sergeant asked Woods when he returne
d to the shade.

  “Who?” Woods played dumb.

  “Barnett!”

  “Naw.” Woods popped open one of his Shasta orange sodas and drained the whole can in one long swallow before opening the top of his potato-chip can.

  The sound of a chopper brought Kirkpatrick and Brown running to the helipad. Woods saw Brown shove a wad of MPC ten-dollar bills into his front pocket just as he reached his duffel bag.

  The helicopter flight from the 1st Cavalry Division’s base camp at An Khe to the Special Forces–run Recondo School at Nha Trang on the coast of the South China Sea was a pleasant flight that lasted a little longer than an hour. Woods was sitting next to Brown and Kirkpatrick, and could hear them trying to talk to each other about selling a bundle of the poncho liners back at the laundry in Saigon to the Vietnamese who ran the operation. Kirkpatrick was worried that the supply sergeant would find out about the shortage and have them court-martialed. Woods smiled to himself; now he knew where Brown had gotten the wad of money that he had seen earlier.

  A Special Forces master sergeant was waiting for them at the Recondo School helipad. Instantly Barnett started sizing the NCO up. Green Berets were already becoming legendary in the Vietnam War for their exploits in long-range reconnaissance patrols.

  The sergeant waited until the helicopter had departed before attempting to speak. “Good afternoon, men. I’m Master Sergeant McDonald. I’m the first sergeant for the Recondo School, and I’ll be taking you over to your barracks to get you settled.”

  “You’re going to take us?” Brown’s words dripped with respect for the NCO. None of the five replacements needed to be told that senior NCOs didn’t waste their time with recruits, especially senior Green Berets.

  “Yes. The other cadre are all busy, and our new class doesn’t start until tomorrow, so, yes, I’ll take you over and show you around… do you mind, Private Brown?” McDonald read the soldier’s name tag on his fatigue jacket.

  “No, sir! Lead the way!” Brown waited and then followed behind the NCO.

  Woods noticed that everything was painted a dark green and was clean. The latrines were also painted, and cement sidewalks led to the different buildings. The structures were basically the same as the ones back in Saigon and the An Khe base area, but everything was extremely neat.