As he humps down the narrow trail, Alice hums, You can get anything you want...at Alice's Restaurant...
Cowboys stops, turns around, sweeps a muddy pearl-gray Stetson off his head.
"Break," he says.
Green Marines in the green machine, we sit beside the trail.
"I got to souvenir me an NVA belt buckle," says Donlon, our radioman. "The silver kind with a star. Go home with something decent or the civilians will think I was a poge, punching a typewriter. I mean, I'm short--thirty-nine days and a wake-up."
I say, "That's not short. Twenty-two days and a wake-up. Count them."
"That ain't short," says Animal Mother. "Alice is short."
Alice brags: "Twelve days and a wake-up left in country, ladies. Count 'em. I am a short-timers, no doubt about it. Why, I'm so short that every time I put on my socks I blindfold myself."
I grunt, "That's not short-enough, Jungle Bunny. The Doc is beaucoup short. Nine days and a wake-up. Right, Doc? You a single-digit midget?"
Doc Jay is chewing a mouthful of canned peaches. "I got to extend again."
Nobody says anything. Doc Jay won't be allowed to extend again. Doc Jay has been in Viet Nam for two years, treating major wounds with minor medical training. Doc Jay wants to save all of the wounded, even those killed in action and buried months ago. Every night dead Marines beg him to come into their graves. A week ago, our company commander picked up a football that was lying on the trail. The football blew him in half. Doc Jay tried to tie the captain back together with compress bandages. It didn't work. Doc Jay started giggling like a kid watching cartoons.
"I'm going to extend, too!" says the New Guy as he shoves his Italian sunglasses up onto his forehead. "Do you guys--?"
"Oh, screw yourself, New Guy," says Animal Mother, not looking up. Mother is holding his M-60 machine gun in his lap and is massaging the black vanadium steel with a white cloth.
"You ain't been in country a week and already you're saltier than shit. You ain't been born yet, New Guy. Wait until you got a little T.I., candy ass, and then I may allow you to speak.
Yeah, a little fucking time in."
"Gung ho!" I say, grinning.
Animal Mother says, "Fuck you, Joker." He starts breaking down the machine gun.
I blow Mother a kiss. Animal Mother is a swine, no doubt about it, but he's also big and mean; he inspires a certain tolerance.
"Joker thinks he has an outstanding program," Mother tells the New Guy. "Going to Hollywood after he rotates back to the World. If I don't waste him first. Going to be Paul fucking Newman. My ass." Animal Mother pulls out a deck of poker cards. The cards are dog-eared and greasy and have photographs of Tijuana whores on them. The Tijuana whores are establishing meaningful relationships with donkeys and big dogs.
Animal Mother deals draw poker hands to himself and to the New Guy.
The New Guy hesitates, then scrapes up his cards.
Animal Mother unbuckles his field pack and pulls out a brown plastic rack of poker chips--
red, white, and blue. Mother takes a stack of plastic chips from the rack and drops them on the deck in front of the New Guy. "Where are you from, you little shit?"
"Texas, sir."
"Sir, my ass. This ain't P.I. and there ain't no way I'm gonna be no fucking officer. Never happen. Ain't even the assistant squad leader anymore. Now I'm a private--the most popular rank in the Marine Corps. Got more fucking ops, more confirmed kills, and more T.I. than any grunt in this squad--including Cowboy." Animal Mother spits, scratches the dark stubble on his chin. "Flipped a bird to a poge colonel at the big PX on Freedom Hill. Got me busted from sergeant. I was the fucking platoon sergeant. No slack. Just like back in the World.
Back in Queens I took me a ride in this Lincoln Continental. It was a beautiful machine. The judge gave me a choice between the Crotch and hard time in a stone hotel. So I became a mercenary. I should have gone to prison, New Guy. There's less humping." Animal Mother grins. "So don't call me that 'sir' shit. Save that lifer shit for poges like the Joker."
I grin. "Hey, Mother, I'm big but I'm wiry..."
Animal Mother says, "Yeah, I know, you're so tough you bite the heads off animal crackers."
Animal Mother turns to Cowboy: "Hey, Lone Ranger, they got your little sister in the Crotch.
Here she sits, a lean Marine in the green machine." Turning back to the New Guy: "Our honcho is from Texas, too, little maggot. Dallas. He wears that Stetson so the gooks will see that they are dealing with a real Texan lawman."
Cowboy chews. "Play poker, Mother." Cowboy picks up a B-3 unit, a little can containing John Wayne cookies, cocoa, and pineapple jam. Cowboy cuts open the can with a little P-38
folding can opener on his dogtag chain. "I won't say it again."
Silence.
"Yeah, okay, you don't have to get hard. What are you going to do--send me to Viet Nam?
Cut me some slack, Cowboy. You ain't John Wayne. You just eat the cookies."
Animal Mother grunts. "Bet a buck." He drops a red chip. He puts his cards facedown on the deck and continues to massage his disassembled machine gun with the white cloth. "New Guy, you just better not be no hero. Lifers get glory; grunts get killed. Like ol' Rafter Man.
Went hand to hand with a tank. And Crazy Earl; shot gooks with a BB gun. Last New Guy we had sat down on a bouncing betty his first day in the bush. Rotated straight to hell. Blew away six good grunts. KIA and tough titty to you, ma. I got shrapnel through my nose..."
Animal Mother leans forward and shows the New Guy his nose. "Worst part about it was that little maggot owed me five bucks--"
Alice spits. "You got to run them sea stories?"
Animal Mother ignores Alice and says, "This is no shit, New Guy. Stoke, our old honcho, thought he was Supergrunt. Got the thousand-yard stare. Every time he saw a dead Marine he'd start laughing. Pulled a tour of duty in a rubber room. He--"
Alice stands up. "Stow that Mickey Mouse shit, Mother. You hear me?"
Animal Mother doesn't look up. He says, "Thank God for sickle cell."
Alice scratches his chest. "No racists in a foxhole, Mother. New Guy, you'll do fine. No sweat."
"Sure," says Animal Mother. "Just watch me. Do what I do. These guys will tell you that I am a monster, but I'm the only grunt in this squad that doesn't have his head up his ass. In this world of shit, monsters live forever and everybody else dies. If you kill for fun, you're a sadist. If you kill for money, you're a mercenary. If you kill for both, you're a Marine."
"Yes, sir," says the New Guy, dropping two chips into the pot.
"I'm horny," I say. "I can't even get a piece of hand."
Animal Mother groans. "That was real funny, Joker. I don't get it." He drops two chips, then three more. "I raise you three bucks. Dealer takes two cards."
The New Guy says, "I'll take three cards. And I'm not a hero. Just want to do my job. You know, defend freedom--"
"Fuck freedom," says Animal Mother. Animal Mother starts reassembling the M-60. He kisses each piece before snapping it back into place. "Flush out your headgear, New Guy.
You think we waste gooks for freedom? Don't kid yourself; this is a slaughter. You're got to open your eyes, New Guy--you owe it to yourself. If I'm gonna get my balls shot off for a word I get to pick my own word and my word is poontang. Yeah, you better believe we zap zipperheads. They waste our bros and we cut them a big piece of payback. And payback is a motherfucker."
"Why talk about it?" asks Donlon. "The Nam can kill me, but it can't make me care. I just want to get back to the land of the Big PX in one piece. I owe it to myself."
"Why go back?" I ask. "Here or there, samey-same. Home is where my sergeant is--right, Cowboy?" I turn and look at Animal Mother. "You watch Cowboy, New Guy. Cowboy will tell you what to do."
"Yeah," says Donlon, plucking a pack of cigarettes from the elastic band around his helmet.
"Cowboy takes this shit seriously."
Cowboy grunts. "Jus
t doing my job, bro, just counting my days." He smiles. "You know what I did back in the World? After school, I shucked pennies out of parking meters. I had a red wagon to pour the pennies in, and I had a blue cap with a silver badge on it. I thought I was hot shit. Now all I want is a ranch with some horses..."
Animal Mother says, "Well some cunts smell really bad, and Viet Nam smells really bad, so I say, fuck it. And fuck the lifers who invented it."
"I hear you talking," I say. "I see your lips move. But we all brown-nose the lifers..."
"That's an amen," says Alice, up the trail. He swats a mosquito away from his face. "We talk the talk, but we don't walk the walk."
Donlon glares at me. "So who the hell are you? Mahatma Gandhi?" Donlon aims an index finger at me. "You're honcho of the first fire team, Joker. That makes you the assistant squad leader. So you're no different. You just like to feel superior."
"Shit."
"I wouldn't shit you, Joker. You're my favorite turd."
"Fuck...you..."
"Quiet, Joker," says Cowboy. "Somebody's mother might be hiding in the bush and you're talking dirty. Keep it in the family, okay?"
"Yes. That's affirmative, Cowboy." I look at Donlon. "When Cowboy gives me the order I'll eat the boogers out of a dead man's nose. I ain't got the guts to rot in Portsmouth. I admit it.
But I don't give orders. I--"
"Bullshit," says Donlon. "You and your fucking peace symbol. Why do you wear that thing?
You're here, same as us. You're no better than we are."
"Look," I say, trying not to lose my temper, "Maybe the Crotch can fuck me, but I won't spread my own cheeks."
Animal Mother interrupts: "You ain't got a hair on your ass."
My lips are trembling. "Okay, Mother, you can just eat the peanuts out of my shit. I'm not the author of this farce, I'm just acting out my role. It's bad luck to wear green on stage but the war must go on. If God had wanted me to be a Marine I'd have been born with green, baggy skin. You got that?"
Nobody says anything.
I say, "I'm just a snuffy. A corporal. I don't send anybody out to get blown away. I know that getting killed over here is a waste of time."
I stand up. I take three steps toward Animal Mother. "You be gung ho, Mother. You give the orders." I take another step. "But not me!"
Nobody says anything.
Finally the New Guy says softly, "Bet a buck."
Animal Mother looks at me, then starts dropping his chips into the pot one at a time. "Call...
raise you..." Counting...counting. "Five bucks."
The New Guy thinks about it. "I call."
"Oh, Jesus H. Christ!" Animal Mother slaps his cards down hard, bending them. "Number ten! I ain't got shit."
The New Guy says, "Three jacks." He flashes his cards and rakes up the pot.
"Hey, Mother," says Donlon, laughing, "that was humble."
Alice says, "You sure bluffed out the New Guy."
I say, "Lose a few, lose a few--right, Mother?"
Mother tries to be cool about it. "I couldn't fold, could I? Had over four bucks in the pot. I thought the New Guy would fold. Most people are afraid of me..."
Donlon laughs again. "Your program is squared away, New Guy. What's your name?"
"Parker," says the New Guy, smiling. "Name's Parker. Henry. People call me Hank."
The New Guy counts his chips. "Animal Mother, you owe me nine and a half bucks."
Animal Mother grunts.
I say, still standing, "Lose a few, lose a few--right, Mother?"
"Who fucking asked you, Joker? You're funny enough to be a lifer."
"Yeah? Well, when I'm a civilian first class and you're a bonehead funny gunny I'll buy you a beer and then I'll kick your ass." I sit down.
Cowboy grins. "You can buy me a beer, too, Joker. But you'll have to wait until I'm twenty-one."
Down the trail, someone laughs very loud. I say, "Hey, belay that noise. I'm making all the noise for this squad."
Lance Corporal Stutten, honcho of the first fire team, gives me the finger. Then he turns to the guy who laughed--a skinny redneck named Harris--and says, "Shut the fuck up, Harris."
Animal Mother says, "Yeah, Harris, obey General Joker."
I say, "I'm ready to jump on your program, you fucking ape..."
"So eat this monkey turd and choke on it, poge." Animal Mother spits. "You just can't hack--"
And then I'm on my feet, my K-bar in my hand. There's hot saliva on my lips and as I hold the big jungle knife inches from Animal Mother's face I'm snarling like an animal. "Okay, you son-of-a-bitch, I'm gonna cut your fucking eyes out..."
Animal Mother looks at me, then at the blade of my K-bar, then at Cowboy. His hand moves to his M-60.
Cowboy continues to eat. "Stow that pig-sticker, Joker. You know how I feel about that Mickey Mouse shit. Now get your head and your ass wired together or--"
"No way, Cowboy. Never happen. He's been on my--"
Cowboy jabs at his glasses. "Didn't ask to run a rifle squad in this piss tube war...but I will break your back, if that's the way you play..."
Donlon whistles. "Cowboy's--"
Cowboy says, "Shut up, Donlon."
I relax a little bit and then I slip my K-bar back into its leather sheath. "Yeah, yeah, I guess all this humping has given me diarrhea of the mouth."
Cowboy shurgs. "No sweat, Joker." Cowboy stands up. "Okay, ladies, stow the pogey bait.
Let's saddle up. Moving."
"Moving" is repeated down the trail.
I struggle into my gear. "Hey, Animal Mother, I wasn't really going to waste you. It's just that I'm well, you know, a trained killer. Cut me a huss with my pack..."
Animal Mother shrugs and helps me into my NVA rucksack. Then I help him put on his field pack. I say, "Now you buy me Saigon tea?" Mother sneers. I blow him a kiss. "No sweat, maleen, I love you too much." Mother spits.
Cowboy waves his hand and Alice takes the point.
I say, "Break a leg, Jungle Bunny."
Alice gives me the finger. Then he raises his right fist and throws power. On the blue canvas shopping bag slung on Alice's back is the warning: If you can read this your too dam close.
Cowboy waves his hand and the squad moves out.
My gear feels like a bag of rocks, heavier than before.
Animal Mother tells Parker, the New Guy. "Don't follow me too close, New Guy. If you step on a mine I don't want to get fucked up."
Parker steps back.
As is my custom, I salute Animal Mother so that any snipers in the area will assume that he is an officer and shoot him instead of me. I have become a little paranoid since I painted a red bull's-eye on the top of my helmet.
Animal Mother returns my salute, then spits, then grins. "You sure are funny, you son-of-a-bitch. You're a real comedian."
"Sorry 'bout that," I say.
Searching for something we don't want to find, we hump. And hump. And when we're so bone-sore tired that our minds sever contact with our bodies, we hump even faster, green phantoms in the twilight.
From somewhere, from everywhere, an almost inaudible snap.
A bird goes insane. One bird sputters overhead. And a great weight of birds shift across the canopy.
Alice stands rigid and listens. He raises his right hand and closes it into a fist. Danger.
I slump forward. My body is aching with all the thousand natural shocks that flesh is hear to after every fiber of every muscle is begging you to stop but you choose to overrule such objections by a force of will stronger than muscle, bullying your body into taking one more step, one more step, just one more step...
Cowboy thinks about it. Then he says, "Hit it."
Wavering forms crumple to the deck as Cowboy's order is echoed from man to man back down the trail.
I say to Cowboy, "Bro, I was hoping a sniper would ding me so I'd have an excuse to fall down. I mean, I think I'm going to hate this movie..."
Cowboy is watching Alice
. "Cut the shit, Joker."
Kneeling, Alice studies the few yards of trail he can see before it's swallowed by leathery, dark green jungle plants. Alice studies the treetops, too, for a long time. "It's not right, bro."
I say, "That's affirm, Cowboy. All my crabs are screaming, 'Abandon ship! Abandon ship!'"
Cowboy ignores me, keeps his eyes on Alice. "We got to move, Midnight."
The jungle is silent except for the squeak-squeak of a canteen being unscrewed.
"Hurry up and wait. Hurry up and wait." Alice wipes the sweat from his eyes. "All I want to do is make it back to the hill so I can smoke about one ton of dope. I mean, are you sure this is safe? I...wait...I heard something."
Silence.
"A bird," says Cowboy. "Or a branch falling. Or--"
Alice shakes his head. "Maybe. Maybe. Or maybe a rifle bolt going home."
Cowboy's voice is stern: "You're paranoid, Midnight. No gooks here. Not for maybe another four or five klicks. We got to keep moving or we'll give the gooks time to set up an ambush in front of us. You know that..."
Donlon crawls over to Cowboy, handset at his ear. "Hey, Lone Ranger, the old man wants a report on our position."
"Let's move, Midnight. I mean it."
Alice rolls his eyes. "Feets, get movin'." Alice takes one step forward, then hesitates. "I can remember when I've had more fun."
I say in my John Wayne voice: "Viet Nam is giving war a bad name."
Daddy D.A., who's walking tail-end Charlie, calls out: "HEY, MR. VIET NAM WAR, WE
HOMESTEADING?"
Cowboy says, "Everybody shut the fuck up."
Alice shrugs, mumbles, takes another step forward. "Cowboy, m'man, maybe old soldiers never die, but young ones do. It ain't easy being the black Errol Flynn, you know. I mean, if I don't get the Congressional Medal of Honor for all the crazy shit I do, I am going to send Mr.
L.B.J. an eight-by-ten photo of my black bee-hind with a caption on the back, telling him what it is..."
Alice, the point man, moves out. He ditty-bops into a little clearing. "I mean--"
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