by Scott Ely
Jackson returned the scope to its hiding place in the TOC and went to the perimeter.
The man operating the big starlight scope told him to get the fuck away and would not talk to him. Jackson hoped that he was going to be the one. The other starlight operator laughed at him when Jackson suggested that he might be safer out in the open. And the radar operator was up on speed, claimed he heard someone beating on a drum out in the scrub. Finally Jackson reached Alfred Ten-Deer’s observation bunker.
“Alabama, you want me to put my radar on Tom Light?” Alfred asked and laughed.
No one called Alfred “Indian” or “Chief.” Alfred seemed to be exactly the right name for him. He was quiet and polite and a good radar operator. He had been to college. Alfred was responsible for having given the firebase warning for several probes and one sapper attack.
“Alfred, you need to move your machine. I’ll help you do it,” Jackson said.
“Why? I got a bunker here. Good overhead cover. Don’t leak much. It’s fucking wet out there.”
“This place is going to take incoming.”
“The firebase? Light tell you that?”
“No, this bunker. Tonight, I think. Soon.”
“Don’t you know for sure?”
Jackson paused before he spoke, “I saw a man die in Light’s starlight. You stay, you’re gonna die.”
“You see me?” Alfred asked.
“I couldn’t tell for sure. You could move your machine.”
“Alabama, you sound just like my grandfather with all that goddamn mystical shit. Old man thought he could talk to the spirits. Went out in the desert alone. Had visions. I think he was taking peyote.”
“Alfred, I saw it in the scope.”
“I heard all that shit about Light. He’s a good sniper. Nothing more. You believe he can raise the dead with that scope?”
“No, but I saw a bunker take incoming. Look, R&R saw shit in it too. They’re afraid of it.”
Alfred laughed, “Those two are fucking strung out on speed. You seen that monkey they’ve taught to throw frags? Got him up on speed too. I wouldn’t believe anything they say.”
“I’ll get the scope. I’ll show you,” Jackson said.
He went to the TOC and returned with the scope. When he turned it on, the end did not glow again. He pointed it at Alfred’s observation bunker, and the scope seemed to be working perfectly. Unless Alfred could see it too there was no use going out to talk to him. Jackson looked one last time. The big end glowed, and he watched a soldier die, but this time he was not so sure it was a man operating a radar machine.
Jackson walked across the compound toward the bunker line, looking for a bunker that looked like the one he had just seen in the scope. Suddenly mortar rounds started dropping. Jackson dived into the nearest shelter, a recoilless rifle emplacement. The firebase’s mortars and 105s replied.
“Hey, it’s fucking Alabama,” a soldier said.
“Hale kick you out of the TOC?” another soldier asked.
“I—” Jackson began.
Rounds began to drop close to the emplacement and men scrambled for cover. Jackson heard the shrapnel whistle overhead.
“Get the fuck out of here, Alabama!” a soldier yelled. “You’re drawing fire just like fucking Light.”
The firing had stopped and someone shoved Jackson out of the emplacement.
“Go get somebody else fucked,” a voice yelled after him.
Jackson ran for the radar bunker.
Alfred could still be all right. Maybe it was the next incoming that was going to get him, Jackson thought.
But when Jackson reached the radar bunker, he found the bunker had taken a direct hit which had collapsed the roof. A group of soldiers were already trying to dig out Alfred’s body.
I don’t want to know this fucking shit before it happens, Jackson thought, gasping for breath.
Jackson returned to the TOC and sat up on the roof for a long time in the light rain. Although he kept turning the starlight on, it remained dark.
After Alfred’s death Jackson wanted to put the starlight away and never look at it again. He understood why Light wanted to get rid of it and how Light had known nothing was going to happen to him all those times Jackson had gone out in the bush to meet him. But other soldiers had died during the attack, and who was to say one of them, not Alfred, was the doomed soldier he had watched in the scope. The soldier might have died somewhere else, at Firebase Mary Lou or even over in Laos.
Yet every night, Jackson looked at the scope because he wanted to know what the future held for him. But he never saw himself in the scope, although he saw other soldiers die, always shadowy forms whose identities were uncertain. Jackson was sure he would recognize himself if he appeared in the scope. Jackson was never more afraid, choking and gasping for breath, than when he watched a doomed man’s image take form in the scope.
But Jackson gave no more warnings. He had learned how useless that was by his experience with Alfred. He never knew for sure who was going to die. No one would believe him, and soon his reputation would be similar to Light’s. Hale might banish him to the jungle.
Every night Jackson called Light on the radio but received no reply. He thought about going out to find Light but Light had warned him to stay at the firebase. Perhaps Light had seen something in the scope.
So Jackson kept watching men die in the scope, the starlight glowing the green light, the men’s bodies torn by shrapnel or bullets, and as the glow faded and the screen turned dark, Jackson was left breathless and afraid.
CHAPTER
18
PATROLS BEGAN TO REPORT strange sightings out in the bush. They described a Buddhist monk dressed in yellow robes and carrying a rice bowl wandering about through the jungle. When pursued, the monk always disappeared into the trees.
Some of the men claimed the monk was real while those who had not seen him said he was a pothead’s hallucination. Gradually as sighting after sighting was reported, most of the men at the firebase came to believe the monk was real. The men had begun shooting at the monk, and a pool was formed for the man lucky enough to kill him.
But there were those who claimed the monk could not be killed. The monk survived a direct hit with napalm and had been seen walking out of the flames into the jungle. The monk escaped after a Spooky had caught him in the open with its Gatling guns. Yet the soldiers who started the pool argued that the monk was just smart, a dink monk in the service of the NVA.
Then the NVA began to attack both the fence and the firebase again. During the firefights, the soldiers discovered the NVA refused to give up their dead, willing to take five or six casualties just to rescue one body.
After a rocket attack on the firebase, Jackson went up to the roof of the TOC to call Light. A steady rain was falling. He spoke Light’s name into the handset over and over but received no reply, just the hiss of white noise.
“Tom Light, Tom Light,” Jackson said into the handset one last time.
“I’m here,” a voice said, coming not out of the handset but from behind him.
Jackson flinched and gasped for breath, smelling the jungle stink of Tom Light who stood before him, the rifle cradled in his arms.
“You got the starlight?” Light asked.
“In the TOC,” Jackson said.
“You get it.”
Jackson went into the TOC and returned with the starlight, careful not to wake Labouf who had just come off a shift on the big radio. Light put the starlight on his rifle.
“What you been seeing in the starlight?” Light asked.
“Troops getting wasted,” Jackson said. “Am I going to be in there. Will you know? You look and see.”
“I’ll know.”
“You know now?”
“Not until I see it in the starlight.”
“You tell me if you see me in it.”
“Nothing’s gonna happen to you.”
Light put the rifle to his shoulder and pointed it toward
Laos.
“Fucking holy man is pressing me. Can’t get him without the starlight,” Light said.
Jackson said, “You’ll waste him.”
“Better than the Tiger. Different. Don’t even carry a rifle. But he knows just like I do when I got the starlight.”
“What’s he doing out there?”
“Raising their fucking dead. Dinks almost got me last night. I kept killing them, but he kept raising. They brought him in ’cause of me.”
Jackson sucked in a deep breath and said, “That monk can’t raise the dead.”
“Then why did I have to keep shooting the same fucking dinks over and over.”
“How could you tell? It was dark. You didn’t have the starlight.”
“I could tell.”
“Nobody can raise the dead.”
Light had gone crazy, Jackson thought. But was the holy man raising the dead any crazier than the troops dying in the starlight scope before they died for real?
“Listen, young trooper, he can do it,” Light said. “They brought him in to get me. Then they’ll overrun this place. Won’t be able to stop them.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m gonna waste his fucking dink ass. I can do it with the starlight.”
“Orange is young, full of daring/But very unsteady for the first go ’round,” a voice sang.
Jackson watched Reynolds & Raymond climb up on the sandbags.
Reynolds continued to play his M-16. Short-timer rode on his shoulder holding the dummy frag in his paws.
“We been trying to get Alabama to bring us out to meet you,” Raymond said. “You can bring back Jimi. Raise him right out of the grave. You can do it. Got the starlight. We’ll take a month’s leave. Fly back to the world and raise Jimi. We’ll pay. We know where there’s some money.”
“Get the fuck away from me,” Light said.
“Goddamn, you’re the only one who can do it. You got the starlight.”
Light said, “Can’t do nothing with the starlight but waste troops.”
“Dinks say you can,” Raymond said. “You—”
Light swung the rifle barrel to point at Raymond’s head. Short-timer jumped off Reynolds’ shoulder and ran down the side of the TOC.
“You open your mouth one more time and I’ll blow you away. Won’t nobody be able to raise you.”
Raymond took Reynolds by the arm and pulled him away. They scrambled down the side of the bunker. Jackson heard the water splash beneath their boots as they ran across the compound.
“You wait for me to call,” Light said.
Light left and disappeared into the darkness, leaving Jackson to sit alone in the rain.
Pictures in the starlight. Raising the fucking dead, Jackson thought. Crazy. All of it crazy.
Jackson did not have to wait long for Light to call. Two days later Jackson walked out the gate in a rain so hard he could see only a few feet in front of him and headed through the scrub for the jungle.
“I wasted the holy man,” Light said as they sat together in the hut. “Got him and a dink suicide squad.”
Jackson was surprised the leaf roof did not leak and the hut was not full of snakes and bugs. It felt much dryer than any bunker at the firebase. But the bunkers were not filled with that jungle stink of Tom Light.
Light explained how the NVA had come after him, led by the holy man.
“I kept wasting ’em but he kept raising ’em. Thought I was a goner,” Light said. “Then I got a shot at the holy man.”
Light had waited for them at a ford across a stream.
“They were dripping water, shining in the scope,” Light went on. “First I wasted the dinks. Point man had a French submachine gun. Probably left over from Dien Bien Phu.”
Light described how he had shot three of them in quick succession.
“They were dead, three head shots,” Light said.
Jackson said, “Sure, you killed them like you always do.”
“But I watched them get up,” Light continued. “Known he’s been doing it. But this was the first time I’d seen it. They were in the river. Running. Water spraying up all around them. Shining.”
“Different dinks,” Jackson said.
“No, the same. Same dink with that French gun. Don’t see much of them MAT-60s no more.”
“You missed.”
Light slowly shook his head.
“Didn’t miss,” Light said. “I was fixing to shoot them again when the scope filled up with light, hurt my eyes. Light paused and continued, “Then I saw that old holy man with his shaved head and those robes. I put it on him.”
Light put his forefinger on his left temple. “Shot him right here. Couldn’t have wasted him without the starlight.”
“You killed him,” Jackson said quickly. “He’s gone.”
“I shot him,” Light said. “It was like a big star cluster bursting all around me. I closed my eyes tight to keep them from getting burned. When I opened them and went to look for the body, he was gone.”
“Did you see him get up?”
“No.”
“They took him. If he could raise the dead, he would have raised himself. Think about it.”
“Do you think they buried him?”
“Sure, in the jungle.”
“Couldn’t raise himself? Was just another good sniper? No different than the Tiger?”
“You killed three NVA, one Buddhist monk. The ones you saw in the river were different men.”
Light nodded his head and seemed to agree.
“How did the big flare come out of him?” Light asked. “How did it get in me?”
Jackson said, “The scope. It’s fucked up. Hale’ll get you a new one.”
“You saw the men die in the scope,” Light said.
“I saw something. Don’t know,” Jackson said, gasping for breath.
The scope was dark, and Jackson began to wonder if he had gone crazy, if he had seen anything at all. He thought of Alfred Ten-Deer.
“I didn’t see a goddamn thing in the scope. I lied! Nothing! Not a fucking thing!”
Jackson gasped for breath and could no longer talk. He grabbed Light by the sweater and shook him.
“You kill them all!” Jackson said.
“Waste them,” Light said.
Light was shaking, his arms wrapped around his chest.
“Waste them, waste them, waste them,” Light chanted.
He sat with his legs outstretched, the rifle lying across them. Jackson picked it up and looked through the scope. The trees were there in the weird green light. Nothing looked unusual. It seemed to be working perfectly.
“Works fine,” Jackson said. “We won’t see no more troops in it. We won’t ever be in it.”
“Holy, hooooly, hooooly man,” Light chanted.
Jackson took a few slow deep breaths to try to calm himself. He put his hand on Light’s shoulder. Light was still trembling.
“He was just some old Buddhist monk,” Jackson said.
“Hoooooooly,” Light moaned, his body still shaking.
Jackson put his arm around him. He felt like he had put his arm around a rotten log, Light’s body damp and cold to his touch.
“You look through the scope,” Jackson said, pushing the rifle into Light’s hands. “There’s no holy man in it now. You’ll see.”
Light shook his head and said, “Don’t need to look. It’s in me now. Flew out of him into me when I shot him.”
Jackson removed his arm because Light had stopped shaking.
“What’s in you?” Jackson asked.
“The power,” Light said. “I can raise them. What am I supposed to do?”
“Kill the dinks,” Jackson said.
“I don’t know what to do. Just raise Americans? Raise the dinks too?
“You killed a Buddhist monk,” Jackson said slowly. “He had a shaved head. Carried a rice bowl. Smelled like a goat. A priest, a man, just like us. The dinks buried him in the jungle. You wa
ste the dinks. Keep me alive.”
“No one has to die,” Light said.
Light was calm now, his voice steady. Jackson began to gasp for breath.
“You’re not Jesus Christ,” Jackson said. “That dink monk wasn’t Jesus.”
“Didn’t say I was,” Light replied. “But the power came out of that holy man and went into me. I can feel it moving around.”
Crazy, Jackson thought to himself. He’s gone fucking crazy. Light talking like he was Jesus Christ.
“Why wouldn’t the dinks give up their dead?” Light asked.
Jackson said, “They’ve always done that.”
“No, they wanted the holy man to raise their dead.”
What if? Jackson thought. But everyone knew the dinks did not think like Americans. Crazy. You’ll end up talking like Light about raising the dead.
“I’ll show you,” Light said. “We’ll kill us a dink, and I’ll raise him just like the holy man used to do.”
“Have you done it?”
“Not yet. I can do it. I can feel it in me.”
What if he did it? Jackson thought. Would I believe then? Watch him touch a man and that man get up and walk away. No, Light’s a good sniper. That’s all. He’s gone crazy.
“I believe you,” Jackson said.
“No you don’t, but you will,” Light said. “You go on back now.”
Light stood up and taking Jackson’s arm pulled him to his feet and said, “I’ll keep you safe.”
“We made a fucking deal,” Jackson said. “You keep my ass from getting wasted.”
Light laughed. “If the dinks shoot you, I can raise you. I got the power.”
Jackson was afraid Light would allow the dinks to kill him just so Light could raise him from the dead. A picture appeared in his mind of Light kneeling over his body and touching him over and over, trying to bring him back to life.