storeeze

She came in the rain offering a ride, hair wet  the day I left Vietnam. “Get in, I’ve been expecting you.” We rode on, smoked cigarettes. Someone in back was sleeping. She stopped at the old place, clasped my wrist and crowned my lips— “The thirteenth part has run.”

The girls left for Columbia, Tired looks on their faces. I turned out the lights, Put my head on the pillow. I heard breathing. The dazzler from the Maple Leaf Was hot on me In her thin-knit top. Her mouth was moving, “Stay in my music baby, “Stay in the music.” I could hardly breathe. I shifted with a rush of adrenalin— She slid off. All was still. No spirits to commune. No spirits.

My life as a company clerk may not have been sexy, but it was the most sought after job in Vietnam. (Killer wanted it bad, but never got his chance.) Besides the full-time job of taking care of company business, I was mother confessor and personal vending machine. “Can you get me a Swiss knife?” “How about a Rolex?” “Any rings?” “Camera?” “A pipe?” If it wasn’t one thing, it was another. “I’ll give you a gook ear for an SKS.” “A TV?” “Chocolate covered cherries?” I’d been running in a thousand different directions when I put away the typewriter and hit the sheets. I was asleep in seconds. Sometime later, I had that dream again:  It was raining. My wife offered a ride in our Impala. I said, “I’ve been expecting you,” and got in. Her hair was mussed and she was wearing clothes she wore the day I left for Vietnam. We drove on and smoked cigarettes. Someone was in the back sleeping. My wife stopped outside our apartment and grabbed my wrist. I tried to pull away. She tightened her ice-cold

When it finally happens and it's over, As you stand there and think— Something so mutilated can't be human So it was dead enough without this But even here there is beauty A small flowered patch of ground, a bird's call And the grace of a butterfly Frustration and disappointment Become a laughable thing But always the conflicting emotions to smile Or say the hell with it and cry —SP4 Bob Jackson. The Hell with It. (1970)   In early December, we left Firebase Jamie with orders for a combat assault. Artillery subjected the LZ (landing zone) with high explosives to flatten the jungle. CS (tear gas) was not used. A Huey is the greatest invention since the wheel. It gets you to ground where there are no roads or rails, which is most everywhere.  The next morning, five Hueys landed thirty feet apart on Jamie's dirt strip and began inserting us into the LZ, not too awfully far away.   Landings are high speed—choppers touchdown barely a few seconds before lifting off. We sc