by D. B. Silvis
It was well-known that Indians, primarily the Mohawks from the Kahnawake reservation, were hired as riveters. It was one of the most dangerous jobs in construction and the highest paid. Few men wanted the job, but the Mohawks excelled and worked as four-men riveting gangs. As riveters, they preferred to work with partners they trusted; for the Mohawks, this meant working with relatives and fellow tribesmen.
It was late in the afternoon when Killian parked the pickup near the World Trade Center construction site. He and Doli looked up at the shell of the building. Its girders stood six stories high. They walked over to the exit gate and waited as the crane operators, the fitting-up men, the Indian riveters and others punched their time clock cards, and came out though the eight foot-high wire gate. Most were Mohawks, but then they saw three Navajos, whom they recognized immediately as Blues. The Navajos stopped and were staring at them. Killian and Doli approached warily.
“I’m Doli, from the Navajo camp near Fort Defiance, and this is Killian,” Doli told them.
“We know of you, Bluebird and Killian, whom we know as Taglito Silaada. I am Frank Falcon; my friends are Mike Meadowlark and Charlie Crow.”
They all shook hands.
Doli smiled. “You have taken names of the American white man.”
“Yes. We wish to be part of their culture while still retaining our own,” answered Mike Meadowlark.
“We would like to talk to you about the fight where one of your friends was killed,” said Killian.
“Yes, Steve Sparrow was set fire by the Blue Warriors,” said Charlie Crow.
“Is their some place we could talk?” asked Doli.
“We share an apartment four blocks from here. We could go there,” offered Frank Falcon.
They climbed into Killian’s pickup and drove to the apartment building. Once inside, Frank Falcon opened five bottles of cold Rheingold beer and handed one to each of them, then sat down.
“Please tell us about the fight and Steve Sparrow’s murder,” Doli requested.
Frank Falcon looked at his two friends, who nodded for him to tell the story.
“Two months ago, our Mohawk friends told us there was a job opening for a riveting crew. They said they’d recommend and train us. Everything was working out fine until a few nights ago. We were having a beer at the Wigwam bar, here in Brooklyn. For years it’s been a local hang-out for the Mohawks. We saw the four Blue Warriors as soon as they entered the bar. They came straight to our table, took chairs and sat down. They told us the Blue Warrior leaders had sent them to New York to recruit Blues to go to Vietnam with them to kill American soldiers.”
“Did they say who the leaders were?” asked Killian.
“They mentioned Ma’ii tosh, Hashkeh Naabak and Lupan,” said Charlie Crow.
“Big Coyote, Angry Warrior and Gray Fox,” said Killian.
“Yes, but there are many other leaders,” said Meadowlark.
Frank Falcon continued. “We refused to go with them and told them to leave. They said we’d either come with them or die. They gave us two days to think about it. On the third day, they showed up at work. We were surprised when they actually came up to the fourth floor where we were working. Again they ordered us to go with them and again we refused. We began to fight. Mike and one of the Blue Warriors fell off a beam, four stories to the ground. While Charlie and I were fighting with two of them, the fourth one was able to tie Steve Sparrow to a girder and set him on fire. After he burst into flame they ran and left the building.”
“When the Blue Warrior and I landed on the ground we were both badly injured,” said Mike Meadowlark, taking up the story. “We were bruised and had broken bones. It was painful as hell, but even more so when the healing began. The Blue Warrior was the first to get up and start to walk away. While still recovering, and without his knowledge, I followed him.”
“So you know where they’re living?” asked Doli.
“Yes, there’s a three-mile area along the Brooklyn waterfront that’s owned by the New York Dock Company,” Mike Meadowlark informed them. “It’s between the Brooklyn Bridge and the Erin basin. They’re living in an old two-story building next to two pony tress float bridges used to ship products by railcar.”
Frank Falcon stood up and looked at Doli and Killian. “You want another beer?”
They both declined. He went to the refrigerator, removed three bottles of Rheingold beer, handed Mike and Charlie one each, and sat down.
“Doli and I want to go there. We plan to kill those Blue Warriors. We’d like your help.”
The three men stopped drinking.
“How?” asked Frank Falcon. “They’re experienced, tough warriors.”
“We have faced their kind before. Doli and I came prepared to fight them.”
“We will have surprise on our side,” Doli pointed out. “They will not be expecting anyone to attack them.”
“Fighting is one thing, but how are you going to kill them, set the building on fire?” asked Charlie.
“That’s a possibility,” said Killian. “However, in the pickup I have four napalm B grenades. In Vietnam, I’ve killed a few Blue Warriors with them.”
The three Blues sipped on their beer, looking unconvinced.
“We could be killed,” said Mike Meadowlark.
Doli fixed them with a hard look. “Do you think they have forgotten about your refusal to go with them? They will come after you.”
That was enough. The three men agreed to lead Doli and Killian to the building, and to help them fight the evil Blue Warriors. The plan was to get some rest and leave for the old building at the New York Docks at two in the morning.
Killian parked the pickup a block from the old wooden building. He climbed out and opened the toolbox, in the truck bed, to remove the bolas, the four napalm B grenades and sections of rope. He handed two of the grenades and the sections of rope over to the men, gave one grenade to Doli, and fastened the last one to the bolas he hooked onto his belt.
They quietly walked down the moonlit street. There weren’t any lights or sound coming from the building. There was only one entrance, a wooden door on the side of the two-story structure. They carefully opened the door and entered. Moonlight shone through the dirty panes of the windows to reveal a large room, which was bare of furniture. On the far side were three doors leading to other rooms. Killian gestured toward a stairway to the second floor, and whispered to the three men to check out the rooms on the first floor while he and Doli went upstairs.
Frank, Mike and Charlie walked over and cautiously opened the first of the doors. The room beyond was empty. They opened the second door and saw one of the Blue Warriors lying on a cot. Mike pulled the pin from the grenade and rolled it into the room. The Blue Warrior woke and jumped up. He stared down at the grenade. The three Blues slammed the door and leapt for cover. There was an explosion and the door was blown off its hinges. Fire engulfed the room. They heard the scream of the Blue Warrior, followed by the howl of a wolf and a bright flash of blue light.
Upstairs, two Blue Warriors had been awakened by the blast and came out of their room. They were in bare feet and dressed only in T-shirts and loose-fitting trousers. They rushed at Killian and Doli. The larger of the two wrestled Killian to the floor. Doli managed to elude the second Blue Warrior as he made a dive for her, and tumbled to the wood floor, which had smoke and fire licking up between the cracks. As he began to get up, Doli hit him, knocking him back to the floor. He grabbed at her leg and pulled her down with him. As they struggled, his trousers and her clothes were being singed by the flames coming from the cracks in the floor.
In his own tussle, Killian was able to get a grip on the Blue Warrior, and fling him toward the stairs. The Warrior lost his balance and tumbled half-way down the stairway.
Downstairs, the fourth Blue Warrior, also woken by the grenade’s blast, emerged from a room facing the waterfront. When he saw the three Blues standing in front of him he turned and started to run, but was tackled by Mike M
eadowlark. Frank and Charlie helped Mike bind the Blue Warrior, and then shoved him back into his room. Mike removed the pin from a grenade and tossed it in after him. They shut the door and rushed toward the side door entrance. The grenade exploded, blowing the door open. There was a blood-curdling scream, followed by the howl of a wolf and a bright flash of blue light. The room was ablaze.
Doli, meanwhile, had been able to free herself from the grip of the Blue Warrior. She ran toward the end of the building that faced the waterfront. Looking back she saw the Blue Warrior getting up, she pulled the pin on the grenade and threw it at him. However, he avoided it. The grenade hit a wooden wall, where it exploded, setting the wood on fire. The Blue Warrior’s trousers were now ablaze but he managed to catch hold of Doli, and forced her to the floor where fire was now licking up through the cracks.
Killian had heard the grenade blast downstairs, but his focus was on the Blue Warrior coming back up the stairs at him. Killian took the bolas from his belt, pulled the pin on the napalm B grenade, whirled the bolas and tossed it at his assailant. The bolas wrapped around the Blue Warrior’s legs, and the banister. He was pinned. Killian turned and saw that Doli was in trouble, he ran in her direction. Behind him the grenade exploded and the Blue Warrior screeched as he was set on fire. He turned into a wolf, howled, and there was the usual bright flash of blue light followed by the ribbon of blue-white smoke that ascended up into the air.
The three Blues downstairs stumbled through the side door to get out of the building, which was now engulfed in flames.
The second story was filled with smoke and fire. Killian pulled the remaining Blue Warrior away from Doli. He hit him hard, knocking him backward onto the burning floor. Doli had passed out from inhaling smoke, and part of her clothing was on fire. Killian picked her up in his arms and ran for the large window overlooking the waterfront. He feared for both their lives as he could feel his denim jacket burning. They crashed through the window. As they hurtled through the cool air he heard howling coming from the blazing building. Then they hit the cold water of the Brooklyn waterfront like a cannon ball. They sank deeper and deeper. Killian tried in vain to stop their descent, but it was difficult while holding Doli’s limp body.
As Killian clawed at the water with his left hand, thoughts raced through his mind. He knew they couldn’t die from drowning. He wondered how much time he’d had left before Doli would have burst into flames. He wondered, if she had caught on fire would he have been set on fire as well, and died with her? He knew it was a foolish thought; of course he would have burst into flame too. It was then he felt the fresh air on his face as they broke the water’s surface. Killian gulped cool air into his lungs, and looked down at Doli. She was pale and had the look of death in her face. However, he knew that couldn’t be.
The light of the burning building lit Killian’s way as he started swimming, pulling Doli behind him. As they neared the dock he saw the three Blues waiting for them. One of them threw him a rope. He grabbed the end and the others pulled the two of them up to the high dock, and then along its side to dry land. The old wooden building was making cracking sounds as it was being devoured by fire.
Killian and Doli lay on the bank.
“My God!” shouted Frank Falcon. “You were lucky to get out of there. There was no way we could get to you.”
Killian nodded, then looked down at Doli, and patted her hands and face. “Her clothes were on fire when we leaped out of the building. I thought she was going to burst into flames.”
It was evident to the three Blues that Killian was in shock.
“You were also on fire, Killian,” said Charlie Crow. “We saw you before you hit the water.”
“Let’s roll her on her back,” suggested Frank. “I think she’s swallowed a lot of water.”
They rolled her over and Frank proceeded to push in and out on her stomach and chest. Moments later, Doli coughed and water spilled from her mouth. She opened her eyes and looked up at the four men gazing down at her.
“Oh, Doli, Doli, you gave me a scare,” said Killian.
In the distance they heard the wailing sound of approaching sirens.
“It’s the police and the fire department,” said Mike Meadowlark. “It’s best if we get out of here. We’d never be able to explain this.”
They got Doli to her feet. She hugged Killian, and they hurried to the Chevy Apache pickup.
A few hours later, on their way back to Virginia, Doli and Killian didn’t speak until they were well outside the big city. Doli was going in and out of sleep. Her head was leaned back and her eyes were closed. Killian touched the brakes as the car in front of him slowed. Doli’s eyes opened and she looked over at him. She continued watching him for a minute.
“You’re going back, aren’t you?” she asked at last.
He didn’t answer her as he was deep in thought.
“You are going back to Vietnam, aren’t you?” she asked again.
He glanced over at her. “Yes.”
“Why, Killian? Frank Falcon said there’s many, many Blue Warriors. You can’t kill them all.”
“No, I can’t. But I can kill one.”
“Lupan.”
“Yes.”
“I want to see him dead, too. But we came back from Vietnam as you felt it wasn’t the right place to fight him. Your reason was he’d joined up with the Viet Cong, and was living in the tunnels. You said it could be months before we’d find him, if ever.”
“Yes, I did. However, it’s personal with Lupan. I need to face him. I need to kill him.”
“It’s personal with me, too. He murdered my father and brother.”
“I don’t want you going with me, Bluebird.”
“Why?”
“It’s too dangerous. I don’t want you to be killed.”
“But it’s alright for you to be killed?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“But it could happen. Lupan is not an ordinary Blue Warrior.”
Killian didn’t reply.
“If you go back, I’m going with you, Killian.”
He didn’t answer her, but continued to drive in silence.
Doli pursed her lips. “In Vietnam, I want to be able to go wherever you go, Killian, and I won’t be able to do it as a newspaper correspondent. I’d like to take the survival, evasion, resistance and escape course.”
“SERE, you want to be a SERE instructor?”
“Yes. There must be a need for female trainers. Then I’d be free to move about with you.”
Killian looked straight ahead but didn’t comment.
She looked across at him. “Killian there has to be hundreds of nurses and female war correspondents whose lives are being endangered, and who fear capture by the Viet Cong or North Vietnamese Army.”
“Bluebird, I’m not sure they’d let you take the training.”
“Will you ask Kip and Whelan to talk to General Mittlebonn? As an Air Force general, I’m sure he could arrange it.”
Killian gave a sign of resignation. It was clear she was determined to go with him. “Kip would need to make false identification papers for you, like they did for me. That isn’t a problem, as the reservations don’t keep very good records. You can use Doli as a first name, but what about a last name?”
“The Navajo don’t use surnames. We are usually identified by our clan.”
“What clan are you from?”
“We were the largest Navajo camp in the area. That is why the Sky People visited us. We had many hogans. Our clan was known as Hooghan.”
Killian gave a short laugh. “Hey, that’s pretty good; you’re an Irishman like me.”
“Hardly, Killian,” said Doli, with a grin.
“You could use the name Doli Hooghan on the papers, and Fort Defiance as your address.”
“It sounds alright to me, Killian.”
Killian smiled, “One other thing. I know women are funny about telling their age, especially if they’re over a hundred and twenty
years old. What year do you want to say you were born?”
“You’re a funny guy, Mr. One-hundred-and-thirty-three.”
They both laughed.
“Well,” said Doli eventually, “you’re stuck at twenty-eight, and I want to be younger than you, so let’s say I was born in 1939. That’ll make me twenty-six.”
“Okay then, that’s what I’ll tell Kip.”
Killian drove on in silence for a few miles, and then began chuckling.
“What’s so funny?” asked Doli, frowning, “I think going to SERE training is a good idea.”
“No, it’s not that. I was remembering the poem ‘Boots’ by Rudyard Kipling. All during training they played that poem. Christ, they played the recording so often, I even memorized it –
“We’re foot-slog-slog-sloggin’ over Africa–
Foot-foot-foot-sloggin’ over Africa–
(Boots-boots-boots-boots-movin’ up an’ down again!)
There’s no discharge in the war!
“There are eight verses and they played it over and over.” Killian laughed. “Yeah, you’ll love that poem, and the hard training.”
“If you could do it, so can I.”
“We’ll see, Bluebird. It’s five weeks of hell.”
When they returned to Zack’s ranch, Killian called Kip. He told him what had happened in New York and about Doli’s request. At first Kip thought Killian was joking about Doli wanting to go to SERE training, but in the end he said he’d make a call to Whelan and the general.
Four days later, Doli was on her way to Camp Mackall in North Carolina for five weeks of training. She was going to be there over Thanksgiving, and wouldn’t be back until the second week of December. Killian kept busy working with the horses at the ranch, and spent time with Kip and Maggie in the capital. He also had dinner with Whelan a few times, where the main conversation was, as usual, about the CIA. Whelan still hated the CIA and rightly blamed them for many of the country’s problems. Almost every dinner ended with Whelan cursing the organization.