Prologue:
Paul Anderson, photojournalist, wants to cover a war. As with any halfway normal college kid, the romantic stories his professor tells him about the wars he’s covered sounds like pure adventure to Paul, and he signs up at a nearby newspaper to cover the war as a freelance photographer. He can’t wait to get his feet on Vietnamese soil.
From the time the plane drops out of the sky and puts him on the ground, Paul follows a soldier’s point toward the troops main encampment. He stops at the first tent in an endless line of tents.
The sergeant in charge listens to Paul’s pitch, eyeballing the kid with two cameras around his neck and a large gym bag in one hand.
“I’ll film you in action and send the pictures home,” Paul says.
Looking at the rolls of film around the kid’s neck, he becomes Kodak to the sergeant and does he have a deal for him.
Right inside the tent flat, in the first bunk, is a drunken soldier. Kodak can join first squad but he’s in charge of seeing to it that Taz is present and sober enough to go out with the squad on patrol.
Kodak takes the deal and wishes he hadn’t. The next day he ask a squad member, “Why put up with this asshole?”
The answer is perplexing.
“You’ll see,” Washington, Taz’s last keeper says.
Somehow, as if by magic, Taz is standing right next to Kodak when the squad forms up to go on patrol. Taz is hardly drunk at all.
An hour later, with all hell breaking loose around him, Kodak finds out what the rest of first squad knows. Taz is a fighting fool and sober as a judge.
Taz makes a believer out of Kodak and wins his heart while doing it. Always irreverent, sometimes poignant, war has never gone so far out of bounds as it goes in Taz & Kodak.
For David,
Thank you Tracy for loving words and encouraging me to write them.
* *
In memory of Sean Flynn, photojournalist, missing since he was last seen covering the Vietnam War
* *
What War Looks Like
The big bellied transport dropped out of the sky shortly after the announcement:
“We’re now entering the airspace of the Republic of Vietnam.”
It was 05:30 and the activities on the ground were mostly directed at the incoming flight. There were 248 soldiers and one wide-eyed young photographer, Paul Anderson, who’d come by way of Berkeley, California, to photograph a war.
The proposition was irresistible to Paul, once the journalism professor began telling stories about his experiences in WWII. Searching for a paper to credential him for Vietnam, the closest he could come was as a photographer, independent of, but not devoid of journalistic privilege.
His father fought in WWII and now Paul would see first hand his generation’s war. He didn’t know what it meant yet, but he was ready to document on film the actions of whatever group he could become attached to.
His editor said, “Be professional. Be accessible. A unit that isn’t opposed to your presence is a unit that will get you into the fray with the least effort. Everyone’s a ham, son. You can offer them a record of their exploits. Irresistible, son, irresistible.
“You’ll be fine but do not risk your own life. There will be plenty of shots that will make you famous without sticking your neck out. Never get so far out in front of yourself you can’t get back. Do what you’re told and never argue with the man in charge. Be of service to him but never get in the way. You’ll do fine.”
These words rang in Paul’s ear as he put his gear back into the one canvas type gym bag he was told to bring. This meant he had to travel light. Two pair of underwear, two pair of shorts, two shirts, four pairs of socks, and two war novels he’d selected for their authenticity.
Paul was ready for war.
He also brought two twenty-four packs of Kodak film to fit the older model Kodak camera that took his best pictures. He’d collected it in a pawn shop for five bucks. Once he started using it, he never went back to his more expensive fancier foreign models. Comfort and confidence in his equipment were essential. Anyone could do flash and dash.
The plane made one sharp banking move before it dropped directly down onto the tarmac. First light had just begun peeking into the plane’s windows. As fast as the tires screeched against the runway, the plane vibrated as it slowed sharply.
Coming almost to a stop, it maneuvered like the behemoth it was, being directed by a man on the ground to a spot off to one side at the end of the runway. There were jeeps, three quarter ton trucks, and an unbroken chain of deuce-and-a-half trucks lined up like on a car lot in Oakland.
Paul pulled himself out of the window to go back to securing his bag, anxious to get his feet on solid ground. An excitement surged through him. He had made it into a war zone. He wasn’t sure what that meant, but he wanted to get busy finding out.
The sergeant in charge ordered his troops to fall in to deplane. Paul saw a mixture of tall and shorter, wide and thinner, dark haired and light haired. For the most part the soldiers were youthful, with a beauty that comes with youth.
Each soldier had a rifle slung on his shoulder and a pack on his back, carrying a duffel bag in his right hand. They looked to be apathetic to their arrival in Vietnam. Each face was like a blank slate yet to be written upon.
Paul snapped pictures as the men stood still, moved a few feet to wait some more. There was a face now and again that Paul needed to capture. Other shots were random, just getting accustomed to using the available subjects to ply his trade.
The sergeant barked out orders as two lines of soldiers marched past him, onto the ramp, and out into the bright morning light.
Once the plane was empty, Paul walked down the ramp as other soldiers came up the ramp toward the stacks of supplies anchored to the sides of the cargo plane, and the rear ramp became a hub of activity as Paul exited through the big open doors at the rear.
He stood watching the forklifts moving into place, as piles of supplies towered above him at the back of the plane. More forklifts moved piles of pallets toward what looked like huge hangars. Jeeps came and went constantly. The empty airfield where they landed came alive with activity.
A stiff breeze blew dirt around and onto everyone and everything. Men yelled disapproval, protesting crates of shiny M-16s, helmets, and ammunition, broken open. A forklift leaned awkwardly off one side of the ramp, having dumped its load.
The forklift operator made an attempt to explain. The crew stood with hands on hips in despair. Men in green pants and white T-shirts righted the forklift and began pushing the equipment back inside the ruptured crates. The disruption ended as the men were busy cleaning up the mess.
Paul turned back to snap a couple of pictures of the operation as the mess disappeared and like a colony of ants, they were making short work of the distributing the piles stacked on either side of the rear doors.
He let the Kodak camera come to rest on his chest. Reaching into his pocket, he followed the directions on the paper, looking at the line of hangars to find a sign reading Journalist’s Headquarters.
Stepping through the proper door he found himself inside a room with a counter with filing cabinets behind it. There were two long wooden tables with wooden chairs in front of the counter. One lone civilian type hefty male was seated at one of the tables.
“What’s your pleasure,” a sergeant asked from behind the counter.
“I was told to report here for credentials. I want to hook up with a combat unit.”
“Photographer?” he asked, looking at the camera.
“Yes, sir.”
“Here you go, Sport. Fill this out for me. I need a form of I.D. and your Social Security Card.”
“Yes, sir,” Paul said, taking out his wallet and removing his California driver’s license and Social Security Card.
“Anyone with stripes just say, yeah, you bet. You’ll get their attention faster that way. Sir is for the people in charge of this war. You aren’t likely to be running into many of them if you hook up with a combat unit. We’re just hey you and what’s your name to civilians.”
“Oh,” Paul said.
He returned the paperwork to the sergeant.
“Stand over there and scowl. It’ll make you look like the rest of us. Besides, it’s what you’ll look like after a few weeks in this place.
“On the floor. That green block. Stand there and look at the camera. Smile, say cheese, and I’ll make you look like Errol Flynn.”
Paul followed the instructions. The camera clicked off a shot. The sergeant disappeared in between the filing cabinets and returned a few minutes later.
“Here you go. Wear this around your neck. If anyone asks who you are, just flip the official credentials at them. This other badge is to be worn with the official identification and it indicates you are cleared to be in a combat zone as a journalist. Your decoder ring comes later.”
“What?” Paul asked.
“Never mind. Read this. It covers the rules of the road. Follow them. If you don’t you’ll be on your way back home faster than you can say Jack Robinson. It’s not complicated. Your transportation will meet you at the front door. Give him this paper. Please don’t tip the help. He’ll get you where you want to go,” the sergeant said, handing him a piece of paper. “Welcome to Vietnam. Any questions?”
“No, sir.”
“If you need any assistance, call this office and ask for the sergeant on duty.”
Paul hadn’t been able to find a paper that would sponsor him as a journalist, but a Sacramento paper offered to send him as a freelance photographer. The credentials really didn’t specify anything but journalist.
He was surprised how easy it was to get credentials. He examined the identification after stepping outside. It was a warm day. A jeep zipped up to the building with a sleepy looking GI at the wheel.
Paul liked courtesy. He sat down in the front seat. The driver held out his hand.
“Where to, Mack? You got yourself a pass for me?”
“I’m a photographer. They said to hook up with a rifle squad. Here, he said give you this.”
“That explains the camera. One rifle squad coming up,” the driver said, and the jeep lurched into action. “These boys don’t see a lot of action but they protect our perimeter out thirty miles from the airfield. You never know where Charlie will pop up.”
Speeding across the blacktop, they hit a dirt road that took them into the jungle that surrounded the airfield. Looking back, Paul saw a billowing smokescreen of dust as the jungle grew closer. Paul didn’t protest the excessive speed.
“Here you go, Mack. There are several rifle companies bivouacked up this hill. Check in each tent until you find what you’re looking for. If you run into trouble get a message to the airfield and I’ll come get you.”
“What’s your name?” Paul asked.
“Anthony P Wallingford, sir,” he said.
He poked out his chest for Paul to read his name tag.
“Well Wallingford, Anthony P., thanks. You be careful now.”
“Yes, sir, likewise I’m sure,” the soldier said, making a tight u-turn and leaving in a cloud of dust.
‘Hi-Ho Silver,’ Paul said, as the jeep charged off leaving the dust screen in its wake.
Looking up the line of tents, all with flaps wide open, he climbed the short rise, looking into each empty tent. The third tent had a group of soldiers sitting around a table at the other end of the wooden planking the tent was constructed on.
There was one cot complete with a sleeping soldier near the opening. The rest of the cots were lined up neatly deeper inside the tent. Paul stepped up on the wooden flooring to make himself seen. He ran his sales pitch through his mind. ‘Make you famous,’ he thought, which made him smile.
“Excuse me. I’m a photojournalist. I’m looking for a rifle squad.”
One of the larger soldiers stood up, setting down his cards. He moved toward the front of the tent.
“How can I help you?”
“I’m a photographer, Paul Anderson.” Paul said, sticking out his hand. “I want to catch on with a squad. I’ll photograph you during the performance of your daily routine. I’d stay out of the way.”
“You take pictures of us together, when we aren’t performing our duties?” he asked. “Give us copies to send back to the world?”
“The world? You can send them anywhere.”
“The World. The States, man. America!. You know, land of the free, home of the brave? ‘Oh beautiful for spacious skies,’ like that.”
“Oh, sure, I’d be at your service. I’d document your activities on film. I’d be happy to photograph the squad. Make prints available to you. I wouldn’t get in the way.”
“I’m squad leader, Sgt. John Harold Jacoby. I think we can do business. You’d answer to me.”
“Paul Anderson,” Paul said, shaking John Harold’s hand.
The sergeant looked at Paul’s credentials but couldn’t avoid the rolls of Kodak film strung around his neck, tangled in his ID. He looked into Paul’s young face.
Paul stayed quiet as Sgt. Jacoby contemplated his proposition.
“Here’s the deal. You do what I tell you. I’ll keep you alive and my men will stay alive. I tell you to do something and you don’t, you’re out of here. I tell you to stick with one of my guys, you stay stuck, until I unstick you. You’d photograph us together. I want casual shots to show our families how good we got it here. Can you do that?”
“Sure, I can. I can’t develop the film here. I send it to the States to my paper and they’ll send me prints of what I designate.”
“Sounds like we got a deal,” the sergeant said, looking down for Paul’s ID again, seeing Kodak brightly printed on everything. “Follow me, Kodak.”
Going to the back of the tent, there wasn’t enough fresh air to hide a strange musty odor Paul picked up on right away. Paul had smelled better bathrooms but he wasn’t about to complain.
Half-a-dozen soldiers sat at the table. They looked casual. It’s not quite what Paul expected.
“Gents, we got us a personal photographer. This is… ah… ah… Kodak,” Sgt. Jacoby decided, once he looked at Paul’s chest.
“Paul,” Paul said.
“Hi yeah, Kodak,” a slender black soldier greeted him. “I’m Washington. I collect stuff. If you need anything, see me.”
“I’m Paul,” Paul said.
“That’s Temple. Cohen, Ramos, and Hale,” the sergeant said, pointing out each soldier.
Paul Anderson, 1st squad’s photographer of record, had become Kodak to the rifle squad. At first he checked their name tags to identify them. No one made mention of the soldier sleeping up front.
“You got any money?” Sgt. Jacoby asked.
“Yeah, sure,” Kodak said innocently.
“You know how to play poker?” he asked.
“Some,” Kodak answered.
“Welcome to the 3rd Platoon 1st squad. This is my rifle squad. Sit down and we’ll deal you in next hand.”
Paul knew an order when he heard one. He couldn’t imagine what he’d spend money on out there. The game moved fast and Kodak lost the money in his pockets within an hour. The money he had put away would stay there.
He could wire his employer for money but if they didn’t like the pictures he took, he was on his own. He wanted whatever money he earned to build up so he could write his book once he got home. He pushed himself away from the table once his pocket money was gone.
“Kodak, before we break to show you where we eat lunch, let’s play one more hand. Pull your chair up here for a minute. Have I got a deal for you.”
“I’m busted,” Kodak reminded him.
“Yeah, I know. What I have in mind is playing for your babysitting talent. Call it a service contract with 1st squad. It would endear you to all of us and make you an instant VIP.”
“I don’t understand,” Kodak confessed.
“You ever baby sit?”
“Sure, I got sisters who have kids. I baby sit for them.”
“See, you’re a natural. Just what the doctor ordered. You see Taz up there? He’s a bit of a problem, you see. He drinks. His specialty is pissing the bed. What I have in mind is you, if you should lose this hand, get Taz. We take turns now but when we’re in camp you won’t have anything else to do and we’re short handed at present. Washington has other talents and he’s been taking care of Taz.”
“What kind of service?”
“If you lose you become responsible for him. You got to get him showered, his bed changed, and him to the mess at least once a day, preferably the evening meal.”
Kodak looked at the prone soldier. It was difficult to tell what was what with him. If he went for this deal he’d be stuck with the drunk, but maybe that wasn’t so bad. If he was of value, once he’d gone broke, they’d be more likely to keep him with the squad. He didn’t think a soldier could be that much trouble.
“Okay,” he agreed cheerfully as the soldiers looked happily from one to the other.
The next hand went predictably, except when Kodak threw in his cards the soldiers at the table gave each other the high-five, like they’d won something big. Kodak did wonder about their reaction.
“Why do you let him do it?” Kodak asked Sgt. Jacoby as they escorted him to the mess tent.
“Let who do what?”
“The guy I’m going to baby sit. Why let him get away with it? You’re his sergeant. Can’t you get him to straighten out?”
“Taz don’t care about my rank. Taz don’t care about much of anything. One thing is as good as another to him. The stockade is vacation time to him. It’s a matter of working with what we’ve got. I’ve got Taz and now you’ve come along to help. The Lord does provide,” Jacoby reasoned happily.
“How do I pay for my meals?” Kodak inquired, thinking about the pocket money he’d dropped.
“My man, Mr. Kodak, you’re my guest. Have all you want and if anyone says anything to you, tell them to see Sgt. Jacoby, and I’ll set them straight.”
“Oh, thanks. I appreciate that. I hope I earn it.”
“You’ve done more than you’ll ever know. Eat your fill. Keep that ID outside your shirt so no one needs to ask who the hell you are.”
“Yes, sir.”
Kodak stayed close to Jacoby. Washington seemed friendliest, along with Hale, but the sergeant was the man he needed to please. He didn’t know what to make of most of the food and took what Jacoby took, sitting next to him at a table off to one side.
“What makes him drink so much, The Taz?”
“Taz is pretty much his own man. We can butt heads constantly, or I can let him do what he wants as long as he performs while we’re out in the bush. On patrol he holds his own. I got no complaints.”
“What does that do to morale? Doesn’t that make the other soldiers resent him?”
“Taz? No, no, they don’t resent him. It’s difficult to explain the chemistry. Once we go out and take you with us, you’ll figure it out for yourself, so I won’t spend a lot of time trying to explain it to you. I wouldn’t ask you to do something that wasn’t important. Just be patient and you’ll find out all you want to know.”
Kodak wondered about his duties as nursemaid. It seemed easy enough. Having hooked up with the first rifle squad was worth a little inconvenience. He wasn’t certain anyone would let him tag along.
The mess tent was hot and humid as the sun stood up high in the sky. Kodak stayed with his squad and no one questioned his Bermuda shorts or Hawaiian shirt. The food was relatively good after twenty hours without food.
The décor was informal, with sergeants being the ranking soldiers present. The conversation was animated and some were loud. It was a large tent half full of diners.
When they took Kodak back to the tent Washington introduced him to Taz.
“Okay, the thing you got to remember, dude, Taz is going to complain no matter what. You ignore it. When the Sarge says get him up, you get him up. Do what it takes to get him showered. Get him fed. If he don’t get fed once a day he gets cranky. That’s not good.”
“Why do you put up with him?” Kodak asked.
“Taz is an integral part of our mechanism. 1st squad don’t function well if we’re missing parts of our mechanism. In fact we’re two riflemen short at the moment. We need Taz.”
“What good is he if he’s drunk?”
“That’s the trick. He drinks after a patrol. We all do, except Cohen. He don’t drink. Jacoby’s a light weight. We rotate on patrol and go out every third day at present. He drinks that night, and then he has a day to sober up, and he’s ready to rock and roll on the third day.
“What rank is he?” Kodak asked.
“That changes right regular. Taz is about as low as you can go at present. He gets busted down from corporal regularly. He doesn’t particularly like being here and he figures if he’s got to be here he’ll do it his way. Officers don’t understand him, but Sgt. Jacoby does, which is all that matters to the squad. Ain’t no officer going to follow us out in the bush to chase Charlie down.”
“Charlie?”
“The enemy? The VC. The Viet Cong, dude. Where you been?”
“Oh, yeah. How often does he pee the bed?”
“That is one of his most dependable things. When he drinks he pees the bed.”
Taz was face down on his bunk, looking a bit like a prune as he stayed glued to his green blanket. He slobbered out of the corner of his mouth. The bed was obviously soaked. Someone had thrown a towel under the canvas cot to keep the boards under it dry.
“What good is he?” Kodak asked, needing a reason for doing what he was asked to do.
“Take my word for it, you’ll find out by going on patrol with us. You might call Taz our secret weapon.”
“He piss on the enemy?” Kodak asked.
“Better than that.”
“I can’t wait,” Kodak said sarcastically, already sensing the flow within 1st squad…
“Come on, Taz, meet your new zookeeper,” Washington said convincingly. “Time to rise and shine, ole buddy.”
Taz made some primitive sounds, turning his head away from the disturbance, hoping it might go away. Washington shook him more vigorously with only slightly better results.
There were more instructions as Taz sat up without looking awake. Washington stripped the cot in one big yank. Taz seemed determined to go back to bed but Washington pulled him onto his feet, moving the cot to where the sun shined on it. A sudden, intense odor hit Kodak’s nostrils.
There was a battle that kept him moving toward the showers. Taz would begin to crumble, Washington would support him to move him across the compound to the shower tent.
Taz did his best to stay dry as Washington held him up in the shower. Once the cold water began reviving him, Taz gave into the inevitable as all resistance ceased. Soon he was standing on his own and looking more like he was awake. Washington left him alone to dry off as Kodak held a towel out for him.
Taz looked at Kodak suspiciously as he yanked off his drenched underwear before taking the towel.
“Who the hell are you? That ain’t no military issue you got on,” Taz barked.
“I’m Paul… never mind. You can call me Kodak. Everyone else does.”
“Why the hell should I call you anything? You ain’t nothing to me,” Taz objected gruffly.
“He’s yo mama, Taz. Jacoby just gave you to him.”
As Kodak studied the soldier, he was amazed by the muscle mass in his upper body, especially in his arms. One big bicep had the head of a panther while the other arm was marked Taz. Kodak saw a picture he’d take of each.
“What are you looking at?” Taz snapped.
“You’re small but you’re built really well. I mean you have a nice body.”
“Thanks, but I’m not in the market for a boyfriend at the moment. Another couple of months in-country and you might have a shot, Kodiak.”
“Kodak, and I don’t want a shot. I was just admiring your body. I’m a photographer and it’s my business to know what looks good.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment but when you’re trapped in a place without women, you might want to cut back on admiring a mans body. It makes some guys nervous. Me, I don’t do nervous. I keep my options open, just don’t get any wild ideas we might be swapping spit sometime soon.”
“Here you go, Taz. Fresh laundered clothes. I’ll set them here until you’re dry,” Washington said, putting the clothes down. “I’ll explain later about where to get his clean clothes.”
“Thanks. Where’d the new meat come from? They run out of uniforms? That the new issue?”
“Oh, he’s our personal photographer,” Washington bragged. “Can’t hardly beat that, huh? He’s going to follow us around and shoot pictures. Send them home to the girl.”
“Nice,” Taz said, pulling on his undershirt and then his shorts. “You bring him along to stare at the drunk guy?”
“Nah, Taz, my man, he won you in a card game. We collect what he takes off and a Vietnamese fellow does our wash. He works cheap. I’ll show you where to put the wet clothes. You toss in what you want washed and it’ll be back the next afternoon. We all chip in.”
“Won me in a card game? Here I thought slavery was illegal. Washington, you’ve been freed and now Kodiak owns me. It’s all quite confusing.”
“Kodak,” Kodak said.
“Taz, old buddy, it’s been a pleasure cleaning up after you. I never thought of it as servitude.”
“I’m hungry,” Taz said, getting into his military issue.
“We showed you the mess tent. Go with him and make sure he comes back to our tent. We are on patrol tonight and he knows he can’t drink, but it never hurts to keep an eye on him. He’s no trouble once he’s got his shower. Are you, Taz?”
“I keep telling you guys I don’t need no babysitter,” Taz objected. “I’m an adult and I’m in the US Army.”
“Yeah, you do. Jacoby says he goes, he goes. Besides, we need to make sure he doesn’t get lost somewhere.”
“Come on, Cujo, I wouldn’t want you to get lost. Do you know where we’re going?”
“Kodak,” Washington corrected.
“I think so,” Kodak said.
“Oh, great, I got to baby sit my babysitter. Come on, Kofu. I don’t want to loose you on our first date.”
“It’s not my idea,” Kodak objected.
“That’s your story. When a guy watches me dry myself off after a shower, I think of it as a date.”
“Jacoby wants this guy with us. You don’t mess with him, Taz. He’s okay. You’ll see once he gives you pictures to send home.”
“I don’t have no home. That’s why I joined the army.”
“Taz, don’t do anything to piss Jacoby off.”
“Who me?”
“Come on, Kodak. I guess we’re stuck with each other,” Taz said, heading for the mess tent.
Taz led the way and Kodak followed. They stood in line together as a half-a-dozen stragglers were getting the last of lunch, while dinner was being set out. Taz took mostly meat and three cobbler-like desserts. Kodak got coffee and some of the cobbler.
“Where you from?” Taz asked as he sat down.
“I work out of California. I got here this morning.”
Settling in with 1st Squad
A cot had been set up across from Taz’s. Someone had put his canvas bag, a blanket, and pillow on top. This would be where Kodak slept. No one mentioned the conduct of the bedwetting, late sleeping soldier once they returned. In fact it was a friendly atmosphere as most men lounged on their bunks.
As dark set in, Kodak watched the rifle squad prepare for a nighttime patrol. He was told to leave the camera in case he had a wild urge to take flash pictures in the dark. Anything that brought attention to the patrol was certain to draw the bad guys out to meet them.
Kodak felt awkward going without his camera. Each member of the squad carried an M-16, save for Taz, who carried the biggest rifle Kodak had ever seen. It did explain his bulging biceps. Watching each soldier taking clips of ammunition, Kodak felt like he’d just been cast in a war movie.
The squad was all business and no one but Sgt. Jacoby said anything. He took something that looked like black face out of a container and handed it to the next man, who used the content to put on his face. When Taz finished, he handed the can to Kodak.
He felt odd applying it to his forehead and each cheek, not knowing why he was doing it. Everyone else applied it in a similar fashion and Kodak assumed it was important.
“Temple, take point. Taz bring up the rear. Keep an eye on Kodak if we meet up with Charlie. Kodak, you stay glued to the man in front of you. Taz will be there if we run into trouble. He’ll keep you safe. We wouldn’t want to lose our photographer his first time out.”
It took Kodak an hour before he could see anything but Hale, the guy in front of him. Once his eyes adjusted to the little bit of light filtering through the treetops from the night sky, he felt less helpless, even if he couldn’t find Taz.
Had Charlie opened up on the squad, Kodak was sure he would jump into Taz’s arms to join that big rifle. Charlie wasn’t likely to be anywhere close-by. The squad was never more than a mile from where they were quartered. It was a scheduled patrol to discourage Charlie from attempting to get close to camp.
Sgt. Jacoby wasn’t sure how Kodak would react to being in the bush and this way the best way to find out how his squad’s cameraman took to the tension. It only took a few hours to make a semicircle around the company’s position. Kodak was too busy trying to keep up with Hale to feel any tension.
It was an odd time for Kodak to consider his safety. His journalism instructor coached him about how exciting it was being in a war zone. He never spoke of what it was like to come face to face with men who wanted to kill him. It would have been a good thing for him to have mentioned, even if Kodak never felt safer than he did with a military escort.
There was excitement. It came from not knowing from second to second what could be out there in the dark. He’d never been a big fan of the dark. His sisters use to tease him about monsters in his closet and under his bed just before they turned off his light.
An enemy patrol could have been a few feet away, waiting to cut down the small squad in the great darkness that hid everything. Out of sight out of mind, Kodak thought. As long as he could see Hale, he was happy.
The only sounds were twigs breaking under boots and the tinkle of metal against metal, metal against plastic, and plastic against plastic. Each stop was signaled by Jacoby, half turning and raising his arm with his hand opened, he flashed the stop sign with his palm flashed in the direction of the men following.
Each soldier, half turning, flashing the stop sign until everyone came to a halt. It was then Kodak could feel Taz breathing on his neck from behind. This startled him the first few times the squad halted. He wasn’t thinking about what might be behind him.
There wasn’t enough light to have taken photographs. Kodak’s flash attachment would have lit up the night for an instant, but such a flash would bring the attention of anything in the jungle on the squad. It was easy to see why he’d left the camera behind. It would have been no use to him and he was way too busy trying to figure out what was going on to frame pictures that could tell a story.
It was clear to Kodak that they were safe once they came out of ‘the bush’ on the far side of camp. The rows of tents were mostly still except for where they played cards by dimmed lantern light. Kodak was relieved to have made it back alive. It was exciting.
There had been a bond built on patrol. He was dependent for the first time since he was ten. He was dependent and the squad had taken him out on a test of his mettle. The casual easy acceptance of a man who was there by choice, suspect for that alone, had proved he wasn’t likely to run or endanger 1st squad. Men patted the rookie’s back as they passed his bunk, once they were back in their quarters.
Only Taz stood off as he took more care settling his rifle in for the night. After removing the clip and clearing the chamber, he stood the big rifle against the tent supports in the front right hand corner an arm’s length from his bunk. He couldn’t reach it easily and Kodak was sure he knew why.
After hours of quiet, the squad joked and laughed, before settling into their racks for the night. Kodak found the cot unfamiliar and remained restless, listening to the sounds of the night. He couldn’t help but run the patrol through his mind. He was left to wonder what he would have done if they’d encountered the enemy. It wasn’t going to be long before Kodak would find out.
The following morning the squad was up early, some guys showered before eating, some ate first. Kodak slept late, after lying awake for a long time. When Kodak woke, he found himself watching Taz, sitting on his bunk cleaning and polishing the big rifle.
It had taken half the night for Kodak to find sleep. It was taking as long for him to find his way out of his bunk. His stomach growled but his fascination with the care Taz took in the cleaning operation kept him quiet, barely holding on to wakefulness.
After deciding he had to get up, swinging his legs onto the floor, he wasn’t able to be silent any longer.
“What is it?” Kodak wanted to know.
“A rifle,” Taz said.
“You eaten?” Kodak said, slipping on his shoes.
“I don’t do breakfast,” Taz growled.
“You’ve got to go with him when he eats,” Hale said from a few bunks away. “He doesn’t need to go with you. I’ll go with you if you want company. I’m about ready.”
David Hale was the picture of what Kodak would think of as a California beach boy. His skin was fair and his hair was blonder than blond. They took their time drinking coffee after they ate. The camp was relatively quiet, except when helicopters flew close overhead to land nearby.
Kodak wanted to get some pictures of the helicopters, but the only view he could get at first was of their green bellies as they streaked past the opening in the jungle at tree top level. By the time he got his camera ready the helicopter was gone.
“That’s our normal mode of transportation. We go into a hot zone on a helicopter. They hover just above the LZ long enough for us to hop out but not long enough for Charlie to get into position to take a shot at them. They have door gunners in case Charlie’s around. We have Taz.”
“LZ?” Kodak asked, finding Hale’s delivery of information a refreshing change.
“Landing Zone. That’s anywhere they can land or in our case, hover.”
David Hale was friendliest to Kodak as he did his best to adjust to being with a military unit. Hale came to his bunk and told him stories of the hot rods he raced and he lie on his back using Kodak’s pillow as he stared into the top of the tent to recount his racing tales.
“You from California?” Kodak inquired.
“No, Wisconsin. What made you ask that?”
“Oh, nothing,” Kodak said, and Hale went back to telling his story of screeching tires and rumbling engines.
Washington was most helpful and he knew Taz better than anyone else. He knew when Taz was about to go on a bender and he knew when he’d begin to sober up, which began under the shower with him breathing a combination of air and water. Washington wasn’t as gentle as Kodak tried to be, but he knew what was required. He seemed efficient and thorough.
Washington had been in-country the least amount of time, which explained how he ended up taking care of Taz. He was sent to Sgt. Jacoby to get his squad back to full strength. Kodak didn’t ask what took place that caused 1st squad to be shorthanded.
Washington had won Taz by losing a game of cards his first night in camp. Ramos had babysat him before Washington and then Kodak, became responsible for the drunken soldier. He saw the advantages in tending to Taz and he was determined to do a good job.
“How often does he drink?” Kodak inquired, wondering how much time he’d be devoting to this task.
“A couple times a week. Depends on the rotation. If we’re on the hot spot we might go out two or three days in a row, in which case he stays sober. After a patrol if Jacoby gives us the word, we party that night or the following night. That’s when he gets the worst. It also depends on the booze being available.”
“Why put up with him?” Kodak needed to know. “Doesn’t the army have rules concerning such things?”
Kodak was from an organized world and everything was governed by rules. He knew nothing about war or about soldiers, beyond John Wayne or Rock Hudson, who always did the right thing.
While they came with flaws in their characters, when the chips were down they became heroic. These men made sense to Kodak. If he was going to work beside 1st squad he wanted it to make sense. Babysitting Taz didn’t make sense. Punishment made sense.
“It’s difficult to explain, Kodak. You’ll see, and once you see, you’ll understand. For now think of him as one of us. We take care of our own. We leave no one behind, even when they drink too much.”
“It’s a little more than drinking too much, you ask me,” Kodak thought out loud.
This Kodak accepted as army code, but the bigger question remained. No one carried a slacker for long, and as he took responsibility for one drunken rifleman, he knew it made no sense. His professor hadn’t mentioned such things.
* * * * *
For every three steps Kodak took across the compound while heading for the showers, Taz managed one, which signaled his acceptance of the inevitable. Kodak, being several inches taller, found maneuvering him across the compound to the showers 100 feet away only mildly difficult.
There was seldom anyone showering in the early afternoon. Once in awhile a soldier would come off guard duty or from sleeping in, and be showering as Kodak did his best to get Taz up under the shower. Washington had made it look easy as he manhandled the smaller man. Kodak found it difficult to manage the half-conscious drunk.
Stripping off seemed preferable to getting his limited wardrobe wet, because in the humidity and with trucks running up and down the dirt strip that separated quarters side from service side, by the time his clothes dried they were smelly and useless, which meant tossing them into the laundry bag and waiting two days for them to come back.
Getting Taz up under the less then tepid water was always a challenge. They were usually ignored and that left Kodak less self-conscious about having his arms around another naked man. On the days Taz protested this introduction of water to his body, he did his best to get out of Kodak’s arms.
This resulted in more physical contact than Kodak had bargained for. Washington didn’t have nearly the difficulty getting Taz’s cooperation. Their naked flesh rubbing together made Kodak even more self-conscious. His resulting arousal was disconcerting and Taz was no help. It was usually during this awkwardness that Taz began to recover his senses and he would question Kodak’s intentions.
Taz could be anything from cooperative to feisty. He’d only swung on Kodak a couple of times, and these were half hearted attempts to get out of the way of the water.
The struggling never lasted long and Taz never mentioned the flesh against flesh conundrum as such. Kodak, who had avoided passionate pursuits to pursue his education, found his most recent arousal with Taz in his arms cause for concern. There was no attraction, but there was a definite reaction. It hadn’t been part of the bargain.
Once showered, Taz could stand on his own and dress himself. By the time they reached the mess tent Taz seemed fine, but unwilling to communicate. Kodak tried to make small talk with no success. Taz only spoke when he had something to say.
Taz rarely drank two nights in a row, and this gave Kodak a break. It was mostly the afternoon after a patrol that Kodak needed to get Taz back in operating condition. It did become easier, but it wasn’t any fun.
Taz remained remote, keeping to himself. The loyalty 1st squad felt for him wasn’t returned as far as Kodak could tell. Taz was most at ease pampering the big rifle. He didn’t have much to say to anyone. On patrol, he was almost invisible. Kodak never knew where Taz was. What good was that? If he wasn’t there, where did he get to?
Were there bottles hidden in the bush?
Even more alarming was when the squad stopped to consider a new direction, Taz ended up right behind Kodak, who’d feel his breath on his neck, alerting him to his presence without him making a sound. He would at times forget Taz was behind him, which made it worse. It seemed like he was purposely trying to unnerve his nursemaid.
Kodak was aware that he didn’t know anything, and he spent a lot of time listening and watching to see if he could put all the pieces together. There had to be a good reason why 1st squad treated Taz like a regular contributing member of the team, even when he wasn’t.
Even with a journalism professor dazzling him with stories about the total excitement of war, Kodak knew nothing about war. He’d spent a couple of weeks following 1st squad around the jungle, getting some wonderful natural jungle photographs for his trouble, but that kind of picture was a dime a dozen and would never grace anything but his own scrapbook.
Kodak did know how 1st squad moved, what to look for, and what he needed to do to stay out of the way. He was becoming anxious, wanting more, and not sure he had signed on with a squad that could give him what he was looking for.
Kodak had learned to listen for the man two or three in front of him. It became easy to know the squad was stopping before he got the sign. At times they moved fast and the men breathed heavy, and Kodak had little trouble keeping up. Then, they’d come to a halt, as Temple and Jacoby conferred, and there Taz would be, breathing down Kodak’s neck.
Sgt. Jacoby only became stern on the patrols. He disappeared for periods during the day when 1st squad was in camp. He would come back with news about where Charlie had been seen and if they’d be going out on patrol. The briefings were the best indicators of when they’d be going on patrol again.
Once Jacoby brought back the news to be prepared, it started the men preparing their gear. They took anything needing repair or replacement to the supply tent, coming back with fresh clips of ammunition for their M-16s, grenades, and anything else needed for the mission.
There was talk of a big battle in the north, which was supposed to explain the lack of contact with the enemy in what wasn’t a particularly hot zone. This was good to know but didn’t quiet the constant preparations. 1st squad would be ready when the time came. Kodak knew it also gave him time to adjust to being part of the squad.
Taz spent his free time breaking down the big rifle and cleaning it with loving care. It was the same ritual as when he returned from patrol. He never drank until the big rifle was oiled, wiped down, and stowed in the corner of the tent nearest his bunk. A single clip stayed on a crossbeam just above his head.
Temple or Ramos took the point and seemed the stealthiest of the group. Taz was always bringing up the rear with his big rifle. The rest of the rifles were the tightly constructed, compact M-16s that were easy to maneuver in close combat. Sgt. Jacoby, and whichever man was on point, carried a side arm.
There had been no close combat situations, and only the first night did they patrol in the dark. Once Kodak passed that initiation into 1st squad, he became less of a distraction. Kodak expected to be tested. He was sure he passed when the squad warmed up to him.
It wasn’t long after Kodak had settled into life with 1st squad that he found himself loading onto a Hughes helicopter, which Hale called a Huey. Kodak thought, Baby Huey, with no attempt to verify it. Kodak had been watching the helicopters fly over the camp since he arrived, but he hadn’t thought about riding one. By now he’d grown accustomed to the distinctive sound of the low flying craft.
He’d stopped racing out of the tent, camera at the ready, trying to get a picture of one flying past. With Hale and Washington laughing at his persistence when he sprang up the instant he identified the sound. He’d finally given up. The Huey was too fast or he too slow and at best he’d caught a shot of a tail rotor or two. Chasing helicopters was the most action Kodak had seen.
Now Kodak was up close, as several helicopters had settled onto the LZ at the far end of camp as 1st squad went to wait for the order to load on-board one. He was finally able to get some close-up pictures as 1st Squad scrambled aboard. He hadn’t thought of waiting near the LZ for a picture of one in motion and photographing them parked wasn’t nearly as exciting.
Kodak clicked off a dozen pictures and waited for Taz to bring up the rear, only Taz motioned with his big rifle for Kodak to go first. It wasn’t a polite motion. This was an order and Kodak didn’t argue. He’d learned how things would be done when they rode helicopters. Taz brought up the rear but it was different this time. This was more like a take charge posture he displayed.
No one seemed to notice anything out of the ordinary or to mind. Kodak was still baffled by the bed wetting soldier he babysat, but for the first time he saw Taz differently and he couldn’t say why.
The squad loaded, followed by Kodak. Sgt. Jacoby took a spot on the floor as Taz joined them, big rifle pointed toward the ceiling as the idling chopper wasted no time lifting off the hard dirt surface.
Kodak noticed the soldiers all sitting on their helmets. He wore the helmet Sgt. Jacoby handed him strapped to his upper right arm. Being polite, he’d taken it without question, but he knew wearing a helmet that hung down close to his eyes would interfere with the candid shots he intended to take.
That’s before he discovered one of the alternative ways in which the helmet could be employed. A metal helmet was bound to be hard on his ass, so it stayed on his arm without objection.
Each of the squad seemed off on his own. They shared a distance between them Kodak hadn’t noticed before. They sat silent, eyes fixed, with no indication of what was on their mind. The rotating engine just above them made talking more than difficult. The pilot communicated with the door gunner making a rotating motion with his hand. The door gunner gave the same sign back to the pilot just before the helicopter left the LZ.
Kodak found his attention drawn to the rushing air that passed the Huey’s wide open door, where the door gunner sat with his legs dangling out in the fresh air. It made for a good picture. He looked relaxed as he watched intently through the dark bubbled goggles that covered much of his face. It gave him the appearance of coming out of a science fiction movie, and he took a few more pictures.
Kodak shot pictures of the squad, their usual cheerful smiles replaced with an oblivious stare. This required more pictures than usual to capture the uniqueness they reflected. Kodak didn’t know where they were going or what to expect, but he knew it was all changed this day.
The new experience excited him, as he sensed something in the air. He sat quiet after a few more minutes of flying time. His camera had done all it could do. Kodak wondered if someone on that helicopter might not be coming back. He’d captured each face as if everything was fine, but what if one of them didn’t come home? What if he was the one?
Mortality was rarely on Kodak’s mind. Even coming to Vietnam to photograph a war, he hadn’t once thought he wouldn’t make it back home. Everyone was as young as he was, except for Sgt. Jacoby. Of course they’d all return. Eighteen and nineteen year olds lived forever.
A short burst of gunfire came from thirty or forty feet below. Sgt. Jacoby casually removed his helmet and placed it under his butt to sit on before going back to the map he was studying. Kodak watched curiously not quite seeing the bigger picture. His was a world of reason and there was none to cause him to sit on a hard metal helmet.
The door gunner responded in kind at the first sound of the bullets aimed at the speeding chopper. He opened up with short bursts from his machine gun aimed behind and toward the ground, even though they were moving too fast for him to spray bullets in the area where the shots came from. There were a couple more bursts of machine gun fire aimed at nothing in particular.
The machine gun made a distinctive sound from other weapons. Kodak wasn’t able to separate the sounds that came from the different weapons yet. He did recognize there was a difference but he hadn’t been subjected to much gunfire yet.
It was both comforting and alarming to have the door gunner there to protect them. Kodak knew he must be necessary, which meant they weren’t as safe as he assumed in the belly of the chopper. Having both feet on the ground in a line of riflemen felt safe. He was no longer sure riding in a helicopter was safe.
Sgt. Jacoby removing his helmet to sit on amused Kodak at first. When he thought about each member of the squad sitting on his helmet, it gave him more information. He looked again at the door gunner, remembering his response to the gunfire that came from directly below the chopper as it streaked overhead.
Once all the pieces were in place, he slipped the helmet off his upper arm, slipping it under him to sit on. These were lessons best learned by experience and Kodak was there to learn as well as document the war. Watching and listening to 1st squad taught him most of what he needed to know. Some things were more obvious than others, like the helmet.
Taz sat on the opposite side of the open door from the door gunner with his back resting on the helicopter’s interior construction. His steady gaze was on Kodak, who sat directly across from him, directly behind the pilot. When Kodak sat on his helmet, Taz smiled, shaking his head, losing interest in Kodak thereafter.
Taz never said much, and Kodak was still at a loss in figuring out what Taz was all about. He didn’t much care for unfriendly types and Taz qualified as surly. Kodak found him irritating, but remained baffled by the way squared away soldiers treated him. There was still a piece of the puzzle missing and Kodak waited for it to be set into place. He had nothing but time.
There were a couple more short bursts from the door gunner and the helicopter seemed to be using the treetops as supports to keep it airborne. Kodak photographed the gunner as he sprayed shells at the jungle floor below. It must have been from boredom. There was no more gunfire aimed at the helicopter.
He calculated by the somber attitude of 1st squad that this could be the first time he faced enemy fire, and not just by flying over it. Taking fire from the ground didn’t seem to qualify. The helicopter moved so fast and so low it would take a shot in a million just to hit it. He remembered his feeble attempts at getting a decent picture of one back at camp. It had to be about as hard taking a shot at one.
When the chopper dropped out of the sky to hover a foot above the ground, Taz was up and out the door as quick as the forward motion ceased. It all happened very fast. First the chopper seemed to hesitate, bank, and in a few seconds it seemed to stand still in the air.
Kodak wasn’t fast enough to get a picture of Taz’s exit and he made a mental note to be ready the next time. It’s as fast as he’d seen Taz move. Once Taz cleared the door, the rest of the squad filed out onto the ground in rapid succession. There was no wasted motion or hesitation. It took less than a minute for the squad to be on the ground and ready to go into action. Kodak was impressed by the unit cohesion he hadn’t seen before. Most of all he admired how Taz had gone into action first. He remembered how Taz seemed in charge in the LZ at camp.
As Kodak followed them out, Taz stood off to one side watching the area where the helicopter hovered, big rifle at the ready. When Taz signaled the door gunner with the same rotating motion of his right arm, the door gunner repeated it for the pilot, and the chopper eased up, banked hard to the left, and all but the sound was gone in a flash, and the sound faded a few seconds after the chopper disappeared.
Sgt. Jacoby led the way into the bush, as the soldiers followed one by one until Taz and Kodak were the only ones left behind. Taz indicated with the big rifle for Kodak to follow Hale. When Kodak looked back once he caught Hale, Taz was nowhere to be seen.
No one said a word, leaving no doubt this was serious business. They dove into the jungle and moved swiftly along what might have once been a path or maybe not. Each man knew his place and one man followed the next with no need for conversation. It was best to save your breath. The pace was steady.
This was the first time Kodak had seen what he thought of as an away mission, but each time thereafter he’d recognize the routine. As he snapped pictures of his squad on the move, there was no doubt the feel of this patrol was different from the others he’d experienced. There was a choreography to it he hadn’t seen in 1st squad before.
Only once in a while could Kodak catch sight of the soldiers leading the force. Mostly the path was so overgrown and crooked, he felt lucky to be able to keep Hale in sight. Each time the jungle opened up to offer greater visibility, Kodak peered back over his shoulder to assure himself that Taz was back there. He couldn’t prove it from what he saw, but they moved fast enough he didn’t spend much time looking behind once he became winded.
Kodak was a runner in high school and even without being in condition, he didn’t worry he couldn’t keep up. He might have thought of this as another test, except for the gunfire and the intensity.
Kodak became aware of jungle sounds around him. What he knew about the jungle all came from watching Tarzan movies and nature shows that came on television on Sunday. He knew as long as the creatures made noise it was safe. It was when the jungle went quiet that the danger was near.
The mood remained intense, the soldiers focused, and it left Kodak expectant. He felt something might happen any moment. No one had to tell him they were likely to meet Charlie somewhere along this trail, but how would they know when?
He took pictures of the impressive jungle, being careful not to fall behind. He assumed Taz was behind him somewhere, but he hadn’t seen him since he took the one photo of him near the helicopter. Getting pictures while on the move was easy now. He’d been practicing since he’d arrived in camp. It soothed his nerves.
He had practiced getting his hands swiftly into position on his camera as it bounced easily against his chest. He had to be ready for any opportunity that allowed him to capture the essence of war. He had to remind himself why he’d come to join 1st squad.
He thought the word trail was too specific a word, because as quickly as the soldiers trampled down the undergrowth the jungle was reclaiming it. There was no sound of leaves crunching under foot, because all the vegetation was alive and vibrant. Kodak looked for the right word to describe it for when he wrote in his journal that night.
When the formation closed up, heavy breathing was easy to hear. At times it was only Kodak’s panting he heard, but at times there was a considerable amount of heavy breathing when the squad closed up as they slowed to catch their breath. They needed to get somewhere fast, but where? Where were they going in a hurry?
He checked and double checked his camera in anticipation. He made sure there were a number of pictures left on the roll in the camera. Reloading didn’t take much talent, but it had to be done properly or it was wasted effort.
He thought photography wasn’t much different from a rifleman’s job. You aimed, fired, kept firing, reloaded, fired some more. This idea was comforting to Kodak. This was his squad, and they were his riflemen and he was their photographer.
He wasn’t tired or seriously winded. The excitement surging through him gave him an adrenalin rush. He’d never been quite this alert. After all those days hanging around, he was in the middle of it now. He thought of war movies and how seeing the movement of men like these would have him on the edge of his seat in a theater.
They had gone from the slower pace back to a trot as the jungle opened wide to receive them. Even when Kodak could see the entire squad for the first time in a while, he couldn’t see Temple, who was on point, or Taz, who brought up the rear, as the route became well defined and easy to follow. For the first time Kodak felt exposed.
It was at this time Temple appeared to meet with Sgt. Jacoby, who stopped his squad. This meant everyone tightened up. The two men in front squatted on the trail with Sgt. Jacoby spreading open his map. They looked for only a minute before Temple trotted back ahead. Sgt. Jacoby stood and folded the map, putting it away before signaling for the squad to follow him at the easy trotting pace.
A couple of minutes ahead were several trails splitting off from the trail they were on since entering the jungle. Sgt. Jacoby took his squad in a westerly direction. This was what Temple came back to tell him. The trail split. They knew where they were going.
Kodak was aware of his dependence on the rifle squad and he wasn’t about to lose contact with Hale, who was always the man in front of him. Hale was the chatty type but not today. It was up to Kodak to keep up. Hale never looked back for him.
Kodak instinctively suspected that if he slowed, lost contact with the squad, or in some way misbehaved, Taz would be upon him in short order. The nursemaid was now at the mercy of the nursed. This was the first time he understood that. He had more in common with Taz than he’d considered.
He turned to take a shot of the trail behind him, wanting to catch a glimpse of Taz close by, but there was no sign of him and he sped up to stay close to Hale. How in the hell could he depend on someone he couldn’t even see?
No one else seemed interested in what was behind him. Moving as fast as they were, it was unlikely any force could overtake them from behind, but there was a chance, he calculated, and that must be why Taz stayed so far behind.
The Picture
Kodak finished a roll of film at the stop for the map reading, putting a fresh roll of film in the camera. He restrained himself. He wanted to be ready. The jungle closed back in for a time and then began to open back up again.
As the trail opened up in a less challenging level area, gunfire broke into the hike. At first it was a couple of guns firing short bursts. It came from just out of sight and Kodak could see up to Sgt. Jacoby as the pace quickened. The jungle was almost non-existent on the right side of the trail, while the left side was overgrown just a few yards off the trail.
These were the things Kodak noticed before all hell broke loose.
At first it had to be Temple, because he could see the rest of the squad, save Taz. The men at the front of the squad moved swiftly, breaking formation, charging toward the gunfire, and the rest of the squad was quickly on the run. Temple had encountered the enemy.
Kodak got two quick pictures before the squad disappeared. He closed in on what sounded like a war breaking out just beyond his sight. He was unarmed and didn’t want to walk into crossfire, so he advanced carefully, clicking pictures as he moved.
There was but one thing on his mind. The helmet clanged and rattled as he did his best to run and keep his camera at the ready at the same time. He cursed the bouncing head cover.
Kodak caught up with the action, steadying himself to snap off a series of pictures of the squad as they fired from the left side of the trail, as they used the jungle for cover. There were short bursts of continuous fire on both sides of the trail. It was easy to locate 1st squad but not so easy to find where the hell Charlie was. He clicked pictures of both sides of the firefight regardless.
Kodak shot more pictures, still seeing no sign of what they were shooting at. He moved closer, doing his best to find the enemy as he stood near a turn in the trail. He’d come too far to miss whatever it was they were engaging.
Clicking one picture after another, certain he’d catch something on film, he recognized his hands were shaking and so were his knees as he stopped somewhat short of the shooting, realizing just because he couldn’t see Charlie didn’t mean Charlie couldn’t see him.
This revelation hit him at about the same time a powerful hand clamped down on his shoulder, pushing him violently onto the ground. It had only been a minute since it started, but it seemed like much longer, and Kodak was sure he’d been shot. This interruption came abruptly as he contemplated what it was like to be a combat photographer.
As he tried to stand in an effort to evaluate his condition, the big hand was back, pushing him flat on his face, and in the same instant all hell broke loose just above his head, scaring the be Jesus out of him, which was when being flat on his face seemed like the best idea.
Pressing his face into the path, he discovered a pair of legs astride him. Looking up with one eye, he found Taz and his big rifle, waging war.
The big rifle fired quick bursts, first in one direction, and then another. Taz stood expressionless, firing in the direction where the most serious gunfire came from. He twirled like a dancer, never stepping on Kodak, but firing to the right and the left before taking off the tops of trees, displaying a massive amount of firepower.
He turned, firing in another direction, and swiftly went to spraying the area directly behind where the squad had hunkered down. He became intent on the treetops, taking time to spray each one that caught his attention. In a few seconds he could shorten one by a third.
He ejected one clip and replaced it with another as he swung back toward the right where he went back to shooting at the treetops.
After several minutes of Taz controlling the firefight, the squad all stood, moving over to the right side of the trail. They fired as they advanced into the area Taz’s fire had cleared of adversaries. The return fire was modest, becoming more distant as 1st squad was in hot pursuit. Taz stood fast, finally taking a glance down at Kodak.
Kodak thought about the sound the door gunner’s machine gun made. It was deeper and the spent cartridges flipped onto the floor making a tinkling sound. Taz’s weapon made a similar sound to the door gunner’s, with the empty cartridges clanking together as they hit the ground at his feet.
The big rifle seemed like part of Taz. With knees bent, Taz kept his back stiff. He wielded the weapon as casually as did the soldiers with the M-16s, which were half the size. They also made a less substantial sound as did the AK-47s. Each had a distinctive sound that Kodak was now able to identify.
Kodak saw the big rifle as part of Taz. It was obvious by the straining biceps that it required a great deal of focus to stand in one spot and issue continuous fire in support of his squad.
This is what Taz did. This is why he could do anything he wanted. This is why his squad asked nothing else of the fighting machine. Taz was a force of nature, armed and dangerous.
The final piece had been set in place and Kodak understood it all. There were only glances, no words exchanged between them. Kodak wouldn’t know what to say. Taz, as usual, had nothing to say.
Taz whirled around, careful with his feet, and fired into a clump of undergrowth fifty feet off the path to the left. There was a human cry, followed by more fire from the big rifle. It clanked and clicked a half dozen times.
Kodak watched in amazement as the spent clip was discarded and another shoved into place. This time he fired up and then into where sounds in the brush got his attention. Taz raised the big rifle to open up on the heavy undergrowth. Once finished, he stood listening, but there was no more motion or sound.
Watching from the ground and recovering some self-control, Kodak peered out from between Taz’s knees to see three squad members still moving amongst the trees off on the left. Theirs was an occasional fire as any motion was addressed with bullets.
Taz followed their advance with his eyes, moving his head along with the members of 1st squad. He was at the ready as he watched, His finger stayed on the trigger, the big rifle only slightly aimed downward, as if he expected to need it momentarily. His biceps bulged with the weight but his motion was effortless. He was a machine oblivious to human frailty.
Kodak peeked up to take two pictures of the advance before Taz pushed his head back down as quickly as he was able to get a good look at what was going on. He resented it and was grateful for the experience.
“Take your pictures from there,” Taz ordered in rare consideration for Kodak’s professional feelings.
“Yes, sir,” Kodak said, knowing it was an order he dare not disobey.
Who would argue with a guy who was a one man army? Kodak realized how scared he was lying on that trail. With his camera at the ready he took two pictures of Taz standing above him. Taz didn’t notice or he didn’t care. His eyes stayed focused and his expression intense.
Each short burst from the big rifle deafened Kodak. The distant firing became sporadic, followed by longer silences between bursts. It was only the more familiar sound of the M-16s now. The odd sound the AK-47s made were now recognizable in Kodak’s ear.
Once the firing ceased, Taz relaxed the itchy trigger finger. His body turned back to face in the direction they’d been going. Squad members yelled back toward them and Sgt. Jacoby yelled in response. There was an eerie echo that accompanied the exchanges. Kodak’s ears were still ringing from the firing just above his head.
“You can get up,” Taz said. “You hear firing, you get down, understood? Don’t wait for me. I’ll be there.”
“Yes, sir,” Kodak said, beginning to understand what Taz did.
Taz shook his head half amused and half irritated by being called sir.
“You didn’t have to push me down so hard. A simple ‘get on your face’ would have done fine.”
“I know. I kind of liked it though. Paybacks are hell. You might want to pull your shirt out before they bring me back my refills. You don’t want anyone seeing those shorts.”
Kodak looked down at himself not realizing he’d pissed his pants. He’d been so excited by the firefight he didn’t realize how scared he’d been. There was something else he realized about Taz as they were there alone on that trail.
Taz looked away as Kodak hid the evidence of his bladder malfunction with his shirttail. His hands were shaking as he smoothed the shirt out over the wet spot and only then felt the dampness. He hadn’t done that since he was three years old. He didn’t know how it could happen. He hadn’t been that scared.
The squad members waded back through waist high grass as they came back to the trail. Washington jogged over to Taz carrying two more clips that Taz put in his fatigue jacket pockets. Washington collected the two spent clips off the ground.
“Ramos has two more if you need them,” Washington advised.
“I doubt it. These guys were here to slow us down. If 3rd and 4th squad don’t intercept them, they’ll disappear as usual,” Taz said.
“I suppose,” Washington said. “Ramos has the other two if you need more. Just in case Charlie gets caught between us.”
Taz had nothing more to say. Washington seemed intent on making sure Taz was taken care of. The look on his face and the way he spoke to the soldier with the big rifle demonstrated great respect.
Washington was taller even than Kodak, but somehow Taz had grown in Kodak’s eyes. How a man could grow in an hour on a path in the depths of the jungles of Vietnam defied explanation. He seemed larger than both John Wayne and Rock Hudson put together, because this was real and the other two men pretended to be heroic in war.
What Kodak felt for him was nothing like he’d felt before, regarding Taz as a useless misfit. His assessment was a mistake and Taz had grown to be a big, big man in spite of his height.
“How many?” Taz asked as he completed another survey of the area.
“We counted four. Cohen and Ramos are checking the other side where you fired into the heavier undergrowth. They’ll have a count soon.”
“He okay?” Washington asked, looking at Kodak, who was still processing the firefight.
“Who him? Yeah, once I convinced him to quit taking pictures and get his head down, he was okay.”
“You got some pictures?” Washington asked excitedly.
“Yeah, nearly a roll,” Kodak checked for a count.
“Great. Any of me?”
“He’d have stood there taking pictures all day if I hadn’t insisted he duck.”
“Really? Cool, dude,” Washington smiled at Kodak. “A regular trooper, huh?”
“Good work, Taz. You got three in the treetops,” Ramos announced as he came over. “Two on that side. Lots of blood where someone moved off after you put the hurtin’ on ‘em. Cohen’s taking a closer look. I got two clips if you need ‘em.”
Taz nodded toward Ramos and Washington headed back to the front of the squad where other soldiers surrounded Sgt. Jacoby. Ramos followed when Taz was satisfied he had enough ammo clips.
“You didn’t say anything,” Kodak said.
“What’s to say? You get any prime pictures?”
“Hard to say what film will pick up,” Kodak admitted.
“Not much to say then,” Taz said.
“I meant about pissing myself. I say enough about you doing it.”
“I know what you meant. So, you pissed yourself. You just faced baptism under fire. Any firefight you walk away from…, you got no apologies to make. I seen it before. I done it before.”
“Yeah, but I made a big issue about you doing it. I was a jerk.”
“It don’t mean nothing, Kodak. It ain’t manly. I ain’t proud of it, but I ain’t going to rag on no one else about it. You got a right. You get stuck with cleaning up after me.”
“Yeah, and now I know why. Thanks. Thanks for looking after me. I never saw anything like it before. You’re something.”
“I do my job. You hang around here, you’ll see a lot of stuff. You hear firing, you get your ass on the ground.”
“Yes, sir,” Kodak said, knowing as soon as the words got loose they were wrong.
Taz shook his head and went back to searching the jungle for anything that moved. There were two more squads out there, so he couldn’t cut loose on anything until he could identify it. He stayed vigilant, moving back a few feet to disengage from Kodak.
As Cohen reported back to Sgt. Jacoby, Kodak reached for his camera to click off the rest of the roll with the firefight on it. This was his first pictures of his squad at war and he would get the roll off to the States the first thing the following morning.
He turned his back to the trail so no one could see his hands shaking as he reloaded. The squad was too busy to pay him any mind, and Taz acted less than concerned about what Kodak did.
Kodak hadn’t felt afraid. It all happened too fast for fear, but he had plenty of time to shake now that he had time to think about all those bullets flying around. The scariest part was he never saw the enemy, until Taz knocked them out of the treetops.
He still wondered why Taz covered for him.
“Good work, Taz,” Hale said, jogging up. “You hit two coming up behind us. We found blood leading off toward the north but no Charlie to go with it. He won’t get far though.”
Taz nodded as Hale smiled large and patted his back before looking toward Kodak.
“How’d you do?” Hale asked.
“He’d a got himself shot if I hadn’t convinced him he ought to get on the ground,” Taz growled.
“I’m okay,” Kodak said.
“He’s amazing, ain’t he?” Hale bragged, patting one of Taz’s bulging bicep. “Worth ten soldiers you ask me. A damn fighting fool he is.”
“At least ten,” Kodak agreed, realizing he’d solved the mystery, replacing it with the mystique of the man.
Taz moved several more paces backward to put more distance between him and Hale and Kodak. His face remained without expression, but hearing men sing his praises wasn’t anything he encouraged. He was a soldier doing the best soldiering he knew how to do. All he wanted was to get the job done and get back to the world.
Sgt. Jacoby walked back to the rear, where Taz stood watch. He handed Taz a thick piece of beef jerky. He reached into the green bag that hung on his shoulder to give jerky to both Kodak and Hale.
“Nice work,” Jacoby said casually. “The main force has to be between us and Sgt. Diaz’s and Sgt. Skelton’s squads. We’ll need to stay on our toes.”
“Where’ve I heard that before?” Taz mumbled out around the jerky.
“This was their rear guard. We’ll move up toward where we are meeting the other squads, but keep your eyes open. There’s more where these came from.”
“How’d he do?” Sgt. Jacoby asked without looking at Kodak.
“Too busy to keep track. He knew when it was time to duck. He’ll be fine.”
“Good for him. Don’t want to lose the squad’s photographer before I get him to take some pictures for my wife.”
“Ain’t that kind of picture illegal to send in the mail, Sarge?” Taz said with a smirk.
Jacoby had to give it some thought before he understood what kind of pictures Taz meant. He was only mildly amused by Taz’s sarcasm.
“Final count is seven. We’re claiming the one in the bush. He’s dead out there by now with the amount of blood Cohen said he was leaking. Good work.”
“Seven,” Taz repeated, nodding.
“We’ll be moving up in a couple of minutes,” Sgt. Jacoby said, moving back toward the front of the squad.
Hale followed behind Sgt. Jacoby.
“Doesn’t it scare you?” Kodak asked after the overwhelming experience was fading a bit.
“What, a little firefight? Nah, if I’m going to die that’s as good a way as any. They weren’t close enough to cause much damage. Charlie likes to leave snipers behind to hold us up so the main force can get away. It’s the same old story.”
“How did you know where they were? I never saw them.”
“They tie themselves up in the treetops. They know there’s a better an even chance they’ll never come out of that tree alive, but they tie a rope around their ankle and tie it to the tree anyway. I know where to look.”
Kodak was captivated, but he knew better than to reach for his camera to catch Taz in a candid moment. It was more information than he’d gotten out of Taz since he’d arrived. This was what a good war novel needed.
“You sound like you respect them,” Kodak said, seeking to open a line of communication beyond their usual repartee.
“They’re soldiers. I’m a soldier. We’re doing what soldiers do. I don’t hate them. I just kill them because that’s what they sent me here to do.”
“Slow us down?” Kodak quizzed to hear Taz keep talking.
“We didn’t come out here to jack up a couple of snipers. There’s a large force somewhere close. They’re trying to get away. Once they hear the helicopters flying overhead, they know we’re on their tail. We’re trying to catch them. It’s the game we play.”
“You really don’t care?” Kodak analyzed.
Taz shrugged, spitting off to the side of the trail.
“Guys that care get dead a lot faster. I just do my job.”
“You can get shot standing out there like that. I watched your face. You didn’t flinch.”
“Not much time for flinching.”
“Aren’t one of those snipers likely to be aiming at you.”
“I figure smart dudes hear me put down fire and they duck. As quick as they show themselves, I got the advantage and the firepower. They aren’t stupid. I’m only at risk on the first shot. If I’m the guy the sniper has in his sights, I’ll be the last to know if that bullet has my name on it.”
“No one was hit,” Kodak reminded him.
“You want all my secrets? You tie yourself up a tree. You’re about to give away your position to a superior force. How straight you going to be shooting?”
“I see your point. Maybe they care, huh?”
“It’s their country. They ain’t fightin’ for the hell of it.”
“No, I suppose not.”
“You hear fire, you get down. I won’t ask you to get down. There’s no time for politeness and I’d hate to blow you away by mistake,” Taz said using his surly voice to dictate his terms.
“Yes, sir,” Kodak answered, getting the same slow shake of Taz’s head every time he said it.
“You just keep out of my way when I’m working. I don’t want to be responsible for putting any holes in that pretty shirt of yours. Take all the pictures you want from the ground, but don’t stand up until I tell you it’s safe.”
Kodak didn’t need to be reminded. He wouldn’t need to be told again.
“Thanks for the heads up on what I did,” Kodak said about wetting himself.
“Now you know how I feel.”
“You don’t do it during a firefight,” Kodak said with admiration in his voice, wanting Taz to know how impressive he was under fire.
“No, but I do do it, and that’s a problem. I hold my own in combat. One has nothing to do with the other. Well, maybe it gets me a pass with the squad.”
“Did you change what you do because of me?” Kodak asked.
“I don’t know. I do what I do, that’s all. I do what needs doing. You got down and I got down to business. Don’t ask silly questions. You want to make it more complicated than it is.”
“Yeah, I guess I do. My business is asking questions.”
Everything Kodak had seen and photographed before the firefight was a walk in the park. It had all changed in less than five minutes. The way he felt about his job changed once he was exposed to combat. His professor had left out the part about seeing men die.
Taz was a product of the war, but when he wasn’t at war with the Vietnamese, he was at war with himself. He was at odds with the army. Being a fighting fool meant the army didn’t look at him too closely. This contradiction intrigued Kodak.
The discrepancy might have been ignored if Kodak hadn’t been responsible for Taz’s down time. He might have been all business when the shooting started, but why, after the patrols, did he go so far the other way? It was like he went from hero to misfit in the blink of an eye. It was like he didn’t want to be seen as heroic.
It was all or nothing at all. It was the stuff novels were written about. Kodak thought of all the contradictory characters in ‘The Naked and the Dead.’
Kodak couldn’t be sure about what Taz felt but he intended to find out before returning to the States. Taz would be the key to any book Kodak wrote. The story was too good to ignore.
Within the hour they’d met up with the other two rifle squads. Each had encountered sniper fire and engaged in short firefights. There was no contact with the larger force they’d been sent to intercept. Taz had seemed sure of the outcome and Kodak remembered as much.
The sergeant from each squad squatted over a map and each marked the spot with a circle where they encountered Charlie. Once each of the three maps was marked, the sergeants relaxed and stood talking.
It wasn’t an unusual mission for the sergeants or their squads. Charlie was elusive. The men in the rifle squads were happy to be able to return home to fight another day.
Charlie seemed to appear and disappear at will. He was in the area and no one saw him leave. He’d live to fight another day as well but a little short handed. It could be seen as inconclusive. They were there. They were gone. The men didn’t care. They were relaxed and ready for a helicopter ride.
Taz stood at one corner of the flat top hill where they waited for the helicopters. Two other men from the other squads stood watch in the corners of the LZ. The squads waited just inside the tree line and 1st squad always loaded last, leaving only Taz to stand guard alone as the final helicopter maneuvered into position slowly easing down to take 1st squad out of the jungle.
Kodak took pictures of the scene. He stood just outside the jungle to photograph Taz standing watch. These would be discovery photos, as Kodak looked for something that explained the soldier he was tied to. Vietnam was an oddity and Taz was an enigma within it.
Kodak didn’t need anyone to tell him you couldn’t photograph what makes a man tick but sometimes a photo reveals something the naked eye can’t catch. This roll would stay in his camera, until he finished it with candid pictures of his squad in less formal circumstances. He’d ask for multiple copies to hand out to the squad.
Once it was their turn to load, 1st squad made short work of getting on board. Taz being the last to load. As he leaped into the chopper, a half a dozen hands pulled him in away from the door as they rose for a couple of seconds and then banked hard left, rolling Taz deeper into the chopper.
Happy soldiers patted his back as he pulled himself upright with the help of a utility belt attached to the floor. He took his seat by the open door, checked the big rifle and sat back satisfied, and Kodak took pictures of it all. He too was satisfied with his day. Every man in the squad knew he was made safer by Taz’s courage. They may never say the words, but it was obvious in the way they treated him.
Kodak’s adventure was like nothing else he’d ever done. He felt satisfied with himself and no one needed to tell him to sit on his helmet so he didn’t get his balls shot off. It wasn’t necessary to explain things with words. At times actions said it all and Kodak knew the helmet wasn’t just to protect his head.
He’d been shot at and he survived. He’d gotten a few pictures he was sure were keepers. All in all it was a good day, but the best thing of all was having Taz hold a conversation with him.
Everyone had come back in one piece and that made Kodak as happy as the experience itself. He felt it was inevitable that on a patrol one day one of them wouldn’t be returning. He wasn’t about to dwell on that part of his job. Everyone did come home this time.
The inevitable would have to wait for another day. Kodak didn’t think he would be the one not to return one day. It was a good day and Kodak had never been more alive than when his feet hit the dark dirt on the hill above camp.
The squad headed for the mess tent. It was no secret that eighteen and nineteen year olds ate their weight each day, especially after a nice hike. The mood turned cheerful, even jocular, and Kodak sat with Hale, Washington, and Temple, which was normal on days he didn’t shower Taz. Once he had set his tray at the table, he made a quick trip to quarters for a change of clothes.
On his second trip through the chow line Kodak noticed Taz come in and get in line. Kodak went to the 1st squad table and watched as Taz filled his tray and sat at a table with three soldiers sitting at the other end. Taz had resumed his usual posture in camp.
Everyone else wore the same clothes they’d worn on patrol. Taz had showered and wore a pair of cutoff fatigue pants and a sleeveless T-shirt. His limited hair was still wet. He ate staring into his tray with his left elbow plated on the table.
It surprised Kodak to see Taz could shower himself. Showering Taz wasn’t all that big a deal any longer. Kodak stood up, excused himself, and moved between the tables to stand next to Taz.
“Thanks,” Kodak said.
Taz made a special effort to find Kodak’s eyes. Once their eyes met, Taz gave him one distinctive nod before going back to his food.
“Can I sit down?”
“Suit yourself,” Taz managed between bites.
“Why are you so… difficult to talk to?”
“I don’t have much to say,” Taz offered in rebuttal, digging into his tray of food.
“You could sit with the men in your squad.”
“No, I like eating alone. If I sit with them I wouldn’t be alone, would I?” he said, looking up for an instant.
“Do you do everything alone?” Kodak said, wanting to engage him in a normal conversation.
Taz sat silent with his fork at the ready, seemingly in deep contemplation.
“No, I patrol with my squad. I give them all I got. I eat alone,” he said as he paused long enough to say it, drilling his eyes into Kodak for the time it took to speak.
“You must like doing something with other people?” Kodak thought purposefully, searching for an opening.
“Yes, I’ve found showering with you to be… hard… to do alone.”
“How so?” Kodak foolishly asked, knowing all the time Taz didn’t say anything without a reason.
Taz paused again after chewing carefully, giving him time to find something that would alarm Kodak. The pattern was predictable.
“I think it’s how you keep your cock in the crack of my ass. Feeling it get hard, growing from how it rests against my skin. It makes me feel sexy… wanted you might say. If not for the size of the thing I might bend over for you, but it would require a lot more soap than the army provides. Besides, in case you haven’t noticed, you’re a boy.”
Kodak’s mouth dropped open as Taz shoveled in some more food without showing any regrets.
“It does not get hard,” Kodak objected.
“You obviously aren’t paying attention. It gets hard and rubs up and down the crack of my ass. I understand a man like you finding a man like me attractive,” Taz said, checking to see how Kodak was handling his assessment.
“Attractive? It all starts with me fishing you out of your piss,” Kodak replied sharply.
“Yes, and I keep expecting you to get off while you’re exercising it back there, thinking Lord knows what,” Taz said, waiting and watching for Kodak’s response.
“Is there anything you won’t say?” Kodak objected, failing to completely swallow the bait this time. “Hale says there isn’t.”
He was on a bit more even ground now that he’d had one conversation with Taz and he hoped for more.
“Yes, go ahead and corn hole me, Kodak. I wouldn’t say that.”
One of the baby-face soldiers sitting at the opposite end of the table missed his mouth with his fork and dropped it. Food and fork ended up on the floor, as he glanced at Taz and then Kodak with shock written all over his face. He got up to replace his fork, brushing the food off his pants.
“I’m still going to be behind you and you’re still going to be half drunk. You don’t seem to let it trouble you.”
“Well, letting that thing get too close to my bung seems like a bad idea drunk or sober, but I know a man like you can’t help himself around a man like me.”
The young soldier once again lost control of his new fork, spilling food into the middle of the table as his buddies stared at him as if he’d lost his mind. He couldn’t stop staring as his mouth hung open as he listened to the conversation he couldn’t believe.
“I don’t know why I try so hard. You don’t appreciate me,” Kodak said as the soldier held his empty fork, waiting before he risked loading it up again.
“I’d appreciate you more if you don’t try so hard. Key word being hard,” Taz suggested.
“Friendship requires sacrifice,” Kodak lamented.
“I’ll work on it,” Taz said. “After I eat if we have time. This friendship doesn’t include hand holding, does it? My hands sweat something awful. We might ought to skip right to French kissing, but I still eat alone, you know.”
“You eat with me,” Kodak reminded him. “So you don’t always eat alone.”
“No, you eat with me and I’m only halfway sober. In my mind I’m eating alone,” Taz said, cutting something that had the color of ham but the texture of spam. “You change your shorts before coming to this fine dining establishment?”
Kodak smiled, remembering why he’d come over in the first place.
“Yes, in fact I left once I got my first tray of food. Everyone but you was in here and I put them out where they could dry without being seen. This heat will be wonderful for the smell.”
“Drop them over by my bunk. No one will pay any attention to the piss smell near my bunk. I’ll slip them into the laundry bag. It’ll go out in the morning but probably be a couple of afternoons before they come back.”
“Thanks,” Kodak said, sensing the conversation was over and wanting to leave it at that for the time being.
He patted Taz’s bare shoulder as he passed on his way back to the table where he’d started. The poor young soldier sat watching, mouth open, ears tuned to Taz and Kodak.
The Art of War
The evening card game was going strong and even the observers offered their suggestions to the players. An ample amount of beer had begun flowing earlier in the evening. The supply seemed endless.
Kodak lay on his bunk reading ‘All’s Quiet on the Western Front,’ another war story from his growing stack of novels. Each time he took the film to the airfield to be sent stateside there were a couple more books waiting for him.
The new novel was a different kind of war story and like ‘The Red Badge of Courage’ it told the story of a soldier who was neither hero nor coward, merely a pawn in the game of war. His life was no longer his own. The odds of him going home were in question. Kodak saw his professor in the story. He wanted to know everything about war but he wondered if he wasn’t learning too much.
Kodak noticed when someone brought Taz a beer from where it was stacked at the far end of the tent near the card players. There was a ceremony taking place in plain view but it took Kodak some time realize what it was he was seeing.
He held his book in front of his face but he stopped reading to watch. One by one squad members walked to Taz’s bunk to hand him a beer. Taz had the big rifle broken apart and was taking care to clean each piece individually. He was in his green army boxers, a T-shirt with the sleeves cut off, and the flip flops everyone wore to cross the compound.
As someone came to him, Taz sat whatever piece of his weapon he was working on down on the cloth to take the beer. Kodak expected something to be said. Taz simply nodded that single distinctive nod that told you he’d seen you. Taking the beer indicated the offering had been accepted and whichever soldier it was, returned to the card game. Taz put the beer beside the others next to the clip he kept on the cross member above his bunk before going back to his work.
This was all new. Kodak wanted to reach for his notebook to write it all down but he didn’t. He kept his novel up to cover his spying. By the time Taz had begun to reassemble the big rifle, everyone but Jacoby had walked down to pay his respects. No one even looked at Kodak. The ceremony seemed complete and Kodak went back to his book, trying not to confuse the wars.
The beer wasn’t at much risk of cooling off. The hot humid night along with the time the beer had been stacked in the back of the tent meant they were all hot, but Kodak knew it wasn’t about the beer. It was about respect. It seemed a fitting tribute to the tiny tornado who fought like a demon.
Later that night with the rock & roll music rocking the tent, a bottle appeared from nowhere. It was in Taz’s hands shortly after Jacoby went out and returned in the time it took for a pee break, so Kodak couldn’t be sure he was the source of the booze. His nose was deep in the latest novel and he didn’t see where it came from.
With most of the beer gone, Taz drank long after the noise mellowed and the squad was in their bunks, after the long day. Kodak knew there was only one result from Taz drinking too much for too long. It was obviously his reward for a job well done.
Taz had not left the tent and Kodak knew he’d need to be more vigilant if he wanted to catch where the bottle came from.
* * * * *
It was the following afternoon when Kodak was reminded Taz needed to be showered and at the mess tent by the evening meal. He thought the chore would be changed by the events of the day before.
He’d expected to be educated about war and he had been. Being educated about the men who fought the war wasn’t a priority, until now. Kodak flashed back again to the characters in ‘The Naked and the Dead.’ Each was as distinctive as men can be. He’d not believed that to be true in 1st squad. Slowly it was becoming clear how distinctive the men of 1st squad were.
He’d stayed in his bunk for a long time earlier that morning, remembering the sequence of events from the day before, all the time looking at the drunk in the bunk across from him. He remembered the details with ease and didn’t write anything in his notebook, until after he went over it in his head.
It was difficult for Kodak to see the soldier in the drunk. He had a respect for Taz that wasn’t there before. The surly, taciturn soldier revealed a less harsh, kinder side. Kodak liked that Taz, even if it was a limited reconciliation. He expected the nicer Taz to remain, now that he’d surfaced, and Kodak knew it was his hope.
Kodak was anxious to get the prints back to see just what he’d captured during his first firefight, but that would be more than a week away. The flights came from and went to the States daily, but the paper had yet to have much to say about what he was sending them. It took at least a week for him to get prints from the rolls he sent the week before if processed them immediately.
Taz was on his belly, face down, unmoving, drooling on the green army blanket under him. He could be dead, Kodak reasoned, knowing dead drunk was more accurate. The fighting fool was an off duty mess, but why?
Taz had a greater degree of control over his actions than Kodak realized. That created an even greater contradiction. It took one firefight for Kodak to see Taz’s place in the squad. He’d given his all on the battlefield. As a drunk he was unrepentant.
Taz was far more difficult with Kodak than he had been with Washington. Kodak wasn’t as strong or as experienced dealing with a drunk as Washington. This could explain his greater struggle in performing the same duty. Making it difficult for the new guy was half the fun for Taz. He enjoyed making Kodak work at making sense of him and his conduct. There wasn’t a lot to do during off duty time.
Sgt. Jacoby roused Kodak from his reverie. The sun had worked its way around to shine into the open front tent flaps. It shinned in bright on the floor and on Taz.
“Go ahead and get him up and by the time you shower him the mess tent will have slowed down. You know he needs a meal or he’ll get ornery. You don’t want him to get ornery.”
No, Kodak reflected, he didn’t want that. He nodded as Sgt. Jacoby moved to the back of the tent, returning from the afternoon briefing. He knew he’d stalled for long enough. He had eaten lunch but he was in the mood for one of the mystery desserts and some coffee.
Kodak was facing the dilemma of a wardrobe shortage. He didn’t for a minute think Taz was serious about his comments from the mess tent the day before, but it did put the imagery in his head. It’s not the kind of thing he’d think of on his own.
With him wearing his last clean pair of shorts he’d most definitely need to keep them dry. He didn’t want Taz to have more ammunition to hold against him, but he couldn’t avoid it this time and he made a mental note to send for some long pants and extra underwear, when he wrote home.
Once Taz was up and the bed was stripped, the wet cot was carried outside and a replacement brought with a fresh blanket, while Kodak half carried and half dragged the drunken soldier to the showers. The dirt strip in between was empty and at the heat of the day most soldiers were busy staying as cool as possible.
The sun did make the shower warmer and that was a plus. Kodak eased Taz down on one of the benches to strip him out of his boxers and T-shirt before he stripped down. Taz was immediately complaining as Kodak forced him under the steady stream of water.
Once Taz was all wet the struggle was over. Kodak held onto him firmly from behind and waited for the gasp that would signal he was ready to stand on his own. For the first time Kodak realized that there was a certain excitement with being that close to someone. He’d managed to stay a virgin for twenty years, which was mostly due to his acne, reddish hair, and flight worthy ears, or so he had been convinced. Holding Taz was as close as he’d been to another human being, except for his sisters who delighted in hugging him to make him blush.
It didn’t matter that he wasn’t attracted to guys, because he wasn’t attracted to anything yet. Feeling the warm skin of Taz in his arms was nice but hardly sexual. The feel of his well developed chest and the way his penis stayed in proximity to the crack of Taz’s ass was disconcerting. He’d noticed none of this before and of course Taz still hadn’t started sobering up yet.
Waiting for the telltale gasp, he was the sole support for the drunken soldier. Taz’s fingers were alarming as they wrapped around his penis to move it to one side. Kodak was flabbergasted by the contact and almost dropped Taz without being certain he could stand.
He’d handled Taz’s verbal assault on his character smoothly the day before, having readied himself for most anything Taz said. This was nothing like that and he felt himself blushing and was totally embarrassed. It wasn’t something he expected to happen.
It was only after a minute of constant squeezing that Kodak felt he had to protest.
“Taz,” he said softly, not sure of who might be within earshot. “You’re creating a problem.”
“Yes, and you’re a dangerous, dangerous man.”
“Let go,” Kodak said, feeling flush.
“Not as long as you’re behind me. That thing is way too ready for me to take the chance on you being a nice boy.”
“I can’t help it,” Kodak said. “It was fine until you grabbed it.”
“Leave me to stand on my own. If I fall down you can rush in and pick me up.”
“Okay, but let go. You’re hurting me.”
“Yeah, well, with all that blood rushing into that thing it’s a wonder you’re still conscious.”
“It’s not that big,” Kodak objected as Taz held fast.
“It’s big enough I don’t want it in my bung hole. A lesser man might have a chance if I was drunk enough.”
“Taz, cut it out. I’ll back up if you let go.”
The bargaining ended and Kodak was left a bit dizzy and uncomfortable after an unexpected encounter. Each time he was sure everything was under control, he discovered it wasn’t up to him. Each time he thought he’d learned all of Taz’s moves, a new one surfaced.
Taz wasn’t a man to dwell on the obvious, but he did enjoy making Kodak squirm. This was not going to be something Kodak wanted to talk about and he was glad when Taz let it drop while they finished up in the showers.
“I’m hungry. Where’s my towel,” Taz growled in his ‘I don’t like being sober’ voice.
Kodak handed it to him from an arm’s length and Taz was immediately rubbing his wet head before he dried off. Tying the towel around his waist, he headed off across the compound with Kodak still behind him, not sure why he hadn’t remembered clothes for Taz.
Taz dressed in shorts and a T-shirt and headed off in the direction of the mess tent with Kodak in pursuit. The limited conversation got no argument from either of them.
The mess tent was nearly empty and Taz led the way through the line, loading up after a day without food. They sat on the corner of a table off to one corner of the dining area. Late lunch traffic was light.
Usually Taz ate alone and Kodak ate with his friends, but on drunk days, there was one meal Kodak ate with Taz. This time he didn’t feel like he was doing something he had to do. He found he was more fascinated by the unconventional soldier than ever. His anger from ten minutes before was a thing of the past. Taz had the ability to anger him in a flash and it passed just that fast. There were no lingering hard feelings.
His would make a great story and Kodak wanted to write it, but where would he start? He wanted to learn a lot more about Taz. What made him tick? How did he become the strange soldier he was?
There were feelings now that complicated anything he wrote. He wanted to make it clear that Taz was unique beyond words and nothing in his experience could explain him.
An honest appraisal would be necessary to interest an audience, but it was all mystery at the moment, joined by shared random events. It would take work to get to the bottom of his identity.
There was no easy way to be with Taz, except on patrol. Showering him had created complications, and the silent meals they took together were no help. Only after the firefight the day before did he have something to say. He was excited by the combat and unable to keep it to himself.
The rest of the time Taz spent his time alone and resisted attempts to break in on the love affair he was having with the big rifle. He’d need to make the most of the times they were together and make inroads a little at a time. He wasn’t unlikable but was he unknowable?
His response to the physical contact in the shower did make things more difficult. He didn’t think of it as significant, but what if it was? Could he secretly be attracted to another man? He’d never had to face such an idea before. Taz was obviously aware of it and yet didn’t make an issue out of it. It had happened. It had past.
Taz ate without taking time to speak. Kodak would give it some thought and find a way to work his way into the silent soldier’s life.
*****
The squad went three consecutive days without going out and all was quiet on the eastern front. There were rumors of a big battle taking place in the North at a Marine firebase. The information was sketchy until Kodak went into the airfield to send off more film and collect whatever books, correspondence, and especially any prints that he had taken for the squad.
The rolls of film had to be cleared before being put in the envelope to go back to the States. The desk sergeant asked what was on the film. As quick as Kodak told him it was sealed up to go out on the next flight.
Kodak listened to the correspondents who were seated at the tables inside the journalist’s area, where they could connect with the outside world after a considerable effort being made before getting hold of someone to dictate their story over the phones provided.
He overheard the talk of hand-to-hand combat, Charlie getting all the way up to the perimeter wire of the firebase.
“The North Vietnamese Regulars attacked in battalion strength, facing machine guns, mortars, and grenades, they came. They fell back to regroup before coming again and again.
“The Marines kept fighting, Charlie kept dying, and the bodies, fresh from the North, piled up on the wire. The battle had been raging for days and when the North Vietnamese weren’t attacking, cannon fire fell on the Marines’ position. There was to be no rest for the battle weary US Marines.
“The perimeter was breached on the third day. Hand to hand combat ensued as the valiant warriors, outnumbered 10 to 1, pushed the enemy back outside the wire. They were running out of ammunition, water, and food as short lulls in the fighting began.
“Re-supplying the surrounded outpost couldn’t be done from the air as helicopters came under intense fire and the brave pilots flew into deadly machine gun fire again and again, turning back short of reaching the firebase each time. The battle raged on.
“Even with the deadly fire, helicopter pilots volunteered to make another try to bring in needed ammunition to keep the men alive until the ground force, still some fifteen miles away, could break the siege and resupply the base.
Kodak listened as the correspondent dictated the images over the phone to whoever was getting it all down at the other end. He didn’t want to hear any more. It was a compelling story but could his squad end up in such desperate circumstances? He had no idea of how well protected the camp was, but anyone could walk right in, except for the 180 soldiers with weapons that lined the hill in the camp.
On his way to Vietnam there had been no thought about the men who fought the war. It was less clear than that. It was about him taking good pictures and being recognized for his courage to get the story, but the idea of 1st squad being in such a situation made him sick at his stomach.
These were men he knew and liked and the idea of them fighting for their lives didn’t appeal to him. He never thought that he too would be in dangerous circumstances if 1st squad was surrounded. The war was no longer about him. It was no longer an adventure he decided he wanted to have. He wondered what the outcome would have been if instead of running into a handful of snipers, they’d run into the main force?
This action was in the north of the country and they were in the middle of the country far from the firebase under siege. They’d yet to catch sight of a major force, although Taz had alluded to hearing a lot about going in search of a major force. It wouldn’t bother Kodak if they never caught up with them.
As the pool driver drove him back to camp, Kodak contemplated the battle of Dien Bien Fu from the 1954 battle in which the French were defeated in the fight for control over French Indochina.
The French base was bordered by a river and it backed up to a mountain too rugged to climb, or so they believed.
The Vietnamese used the steady rainfall during the rainy season to cover the fact they were pulling dozens of cannons to the summit of the mountain from behind the French position. When the rain stopped the cannons opened up, firing down on the French encampment. The French were trapped and surrendered, leaving Vietnam.
Why had America taken up where the French left off? Kodak wondered as he left the jeep and walked up toward the camp’s quarters. It was obvious the Vietnamese were willing to die for their cause.
There were thousands of troops in the area, and this wasn’t an isolated firebase near the North Vietnam boarder. Kodak pushed the information aside. Certainly the briefings covered it and the sergeants all knew. There was no point in dwelling on it with their men. It wasn’t what he was there to do.
On the fourth quiet morning in a row Kodak lay in his bed watching Taz pamper the big rifle. They hadn’t talked much or gone to the mess tent together since the day of Taz’s last binge. There had been no beer and no bottle since the firefight.
Kodak had a lot to ask him and a greater feeling of affection for him. This didn’t bother him under the circumstances. He wanted more information to fill in some of the blanks on Taz. He’d been waiting for Taz to give him an opening, except he hadn’t. Kodak figured he had to take a shot.
“What is it?” Kodak asked, watching Taz take pride in the cleaning of the big rifle.
“It’s a Browning Automatic Rifle,” Taz revealed in an unexpectedly easy reply.
“No M-16. I can remember M-16. It’s just an M and a 16,” Kodak reasoned.
“B.A.R.” Taz said each of the letters precisely.
“B.A.R.,” Kodak repeated, placing a word with each of the letters he’d been given, and then saying both the name and initials again.
He watched Taz buffing the wooden stock, once the B.A.R. was reassembled, after it was all in pieces a few minutes before. Kodak had trouble putting batteries in his radio at home. Taz knew his weapon as most men knew their names.
There was a feeling of loyalty to Taz now. It replaced his curious contempt. Taz had stood up for 1st squad and Kodak. It couldn’t help but leave an impression on the soldier he looked down on. Then, when he had a chance to pay a little payback to someone who spoke ill of him, he hadn’t. He proved to be bigger than Kodak in actions and in deeds. It did change everything.
When the shorts came back from the laundry, the evidence of his mishaps would be erased and Taz remained above it all. This allowed Kodak to accept the affection he felt for Taz. It was all quite simple, except for the unfamiliar feelings. It was all easy to accept except for that.
Taz was a fighting machine but it was what happened between firefights that Kodak wanted to write about. He wrote in his notebooks, mostly when he was alone, so no one could see what transpired inside his brain. This was to be the book. He’d change the names later and talk honestly about the men he went to war with.
Was this a betrayal of trust?
He pulled out the notebook to write down B.A.R. on the top of the first page. He didn’t want to take the chance of forgetting this detail. He never would. His fear of missing something important loomed large. Taz had paid no attention when he wrote the letters down.
There were no more questions and Kodak went back to reading one of the new books that came back with him from the airfield. He handed them off to Hale once he finished with one, and he’d seen Sgt. Jacoby with ‘The Naked and the Dead’ and Washington was captivated by Fahrenheit 451. These were books about tormented men who were at war with their worlds, not simply at war in it.
That night there was a camp beer bust. The beer was iced down in large kitchen devices with the beer stacked in cases that stood six feet high near the mess tent. The music blasted out over the camp’s loud speakers and soldiers rocked and rolled with beer in hand. No officers could be seen and even the sergeants maintained a low profile. The kitchen help didn’t mind continuously adding beer to the ice to keep it cold, which made a remarkable difference in the taste but not the effects.
Kodak had never liked beer but he took a couple cold brew to wash away the dark red dirt from his hot parched throat. They all breathed in the dust any time vehicles came or went. He did achieve a buzz, something he wasn’t likely to do back in the world.
Kodak wasn’t a party animal and didn’t need company to find things to entertain him. He liked nature and solitude. It probably had something to do being raised with a bevy of sisters, who disregarded any need he had for privacy as a boy. This was different. He belonged with 1st squad and so he partied when they partied and a good time was had by all.
Kodak had always been what he was told to be. He went to school, played in the high school band, acted in his senior play, all because he was told he should, was expected to, had no reason not to. He responded to what he was told until he went away to college to study business and economics.
For the first time in his life, Kodak did something because he wanted to. Once he’d enrolled in journalism classes, he put his picture taking talent into action. Before the end of his second year and before he turned twenty, he decided he would go to Vietnam.
Journalism wasn’t something anyone told him he had to do. While all the other college kids were busy avoiding the war, Kodak knew this is where the story was. Kodak never used ambition to drive him. Once he took an interest in journalism, being a good journalist was all he wanted out of it.
He’d written in his journals at home, finding places to hide them to keep his sisters from reading them. He’d always written things down. He had a desire to record the high points and low points of his life. He wrote down new facts and things he’d learned on any given day. The idea of writing a book only came to him after he arrived in Vietnam.
He stood in amazement listening to the correspondent dictating his story of the pitched battle in the north. Kodak knew he couldn’t do that. He had seen the picture, felt the situation, and knew of the desperation, and it flowed like a river out of him.
Kodak left because it was too graphic and he was too close to it, but he knew if he could ever do his job as well as that correspondent did his, he’d be blessed. It was art, like the photographs he took.
Writing was something that came from your essence. Getting it out to readers was the trick. Making them give a damn was how it became art.
There had been no ruffles and flourishes in the correspondence’s words. These were the facts, the truth of war. It came without emotion and with an easily understood simplicity. The reader would add the emotion back as he read.
This was the reporting of events. Kodak couldn’t write about 1st squad without emotion. He’d given up his ability to be objective by becoming one of them. He was a member of 1st squad. He went where they went. He did what they did. He ate their food. He drank their beer. The book would allow him to write about them but reporting on them was no longer possible.
Kodak carried a camera and recorded their exploits on film. Each picture told a story. Pictures were the story. Each picture he spread out on the card table evoked a response. Each man found himself in the images. Each picture reminded them of being together as 1st squad and a part as individuals.
Some pictures were of 1st squad on patrol. Some were 1st squad at rest and at play. The candid shots the soldiers never knew were taken were the favorites. They’d put a finger on a particular picture displayed on the table and eyeball Kodak for permission to remove it from the display to send home with their next letter.
This was Kodak’s contribution, no matter the expense he might be responsible for later, but the positive part of the pictures was he owned them. He received no pay and the newspaper would buy the rights to publish whatever pictures they used, but so far no one had mentioned paying him anything and the price of film was going up.
While 1st squad appreciated him capturing an instant in time, there was nothing to tell Kodak anyone back in the States cared one iota for his photographs. The notes that came with his supplies usually consisted of a bill for notebooks, pencils, and lately even film was listed as an expense.
Kodak didn’t know who he was. Being fascinated by war stories was only part of his motivation. Great war correspondence like Ernie Pyle and Hemingway set the bar pretty high, and only fools saw themselves following in those giant footsteps, but this was the journey Kodak envisioned himself being on. He would go as far as his talent took him.
Kodak had been with his squad for nearly a month, adapting completely to the military culture. It was his squad. He didn’t engage the enemy but he caught them on film, mostly by accident as 1st squad advanced. Kodak was getting better at capturing better images.
Kodak was one of the guys. He played cards, chatted for hours on end, drinking when the beer flowed, and he went on every patrol. The pictures reminded 1st squad he was always with them. It was almost like he was in the army, except everyone knew Kodak could go home when Kodak decided it was time for him to go home.
It all began simply enough. His professor suggested going to war to earn credibility. “Do something for them and they’ll let you hang around to get the Pulitzer Prize photograph. Once they forget you’re there, you’ll get your best shots.”
There were no prizes. There were only images caught in the heat of battle, men risking their all, because someone told them it was what they were supposed to do. There were no prizes for war. There were no winners, except for the officers who claimed responsibility for things that made them look good.
Becoming fond of the men was a bad idea. No one had to tell Kodak that and Kodak told no one about what his professor had said. He’d see his professor as exciting and an excellent teacher before he saw war up close. Now when he thought of his professor, he saw the professor in ‘All’s Quiet on the Western Front,’ who encouraged school boys to go to war to find glory.
*****
It was the next afternoon while he was deciding which book to read next, he got the call.
“Better get him up, Kodak,” Jacoby said, passing in quick time.
“We going out, Sarge?”
“Looks like. Time for him to be up anyway. I want him ready just in case. Charlie’s on the move again.”
It was all routine. 1st squad had been out twice that week already and it was only Thursday. Taz hadn’t drunk after the first patrol but he did a bang up job after the patrol the day before.
Kodak tried to count the patrols he’d been out on but they’d begun to run into each other. He wasn’t sure it was Thursday. It could be Wednesday, or Friday. Time was illusive, except on the days he took pictures in to the airfield, and then the day became obvious. It was written in big letters on the blackboard next to the sergeant’s counter.
“Take your time, but get him fed. No rush at the moment, but don’t be surprised if I tell you it’s time to get moving. Make sure you eat a good meal too. It’s getting late and if we go out we might need to walk back,” Jacoby said, walking back up to speak to Kodak as he sat on the side of his bunk.
He took off his shirt and socks and went about rousing Taz from his stupor. Any thought of it becoming easier was soon forgotten with Taz being his usual offensive and fitful self. It was hard work just getting his feet on the floor.
Kodak ripped the bedding off the bunk, adroitly kicking the cot out of the way to deny Taz a place to sit back down. While there was nothing new in the process, Taz had remained his feisty self, but he didn’t insult Kodak or question his intentions.
Over the weeks Kodak was lulled into a false sense of complacency, imagining his affection for Taz was a shared affect. It was always dangerous to assume too much where Taz was concerned. Any idea that he was predictable was to be discouraged at all cost. It was always more fun for Taz to do the unexpected.
In the shower Kodak stood behind Taz, waiting for the gasp and the cussing to begin once the water was running full force over his head. He did his best to hold him up, while not taking anymore of the cold shower than necessary. The water was way cooler on this mostly cloudy day and Kodak was thinking about a nice hot cup of coffee.
“Damn, get off me,” Taz finally fussed, choking up water as he spoke. “I’m sober already, asshole. You trying to drown me? How can we make love later if I’m drowned? Get your dick out of my ass.”
“I love you too, Taz, but your knees tell me if I let you go, you’ll fold up on the floor. You sure you’re okay?”
“So, what, I’m done dancing already. Besides, I told you I don’t dance with dudes.”
“I know, but I am taking you out to eat,” Kodak answered. “I’ve got a nice spot picked out. Fine dining. I’ll even stop and pick you some posies if you dress yourself.”
“Yeah, yeah, is that before or after we screw. Get your dick out of my ass, asshole. I’m not that kind of girl. You are persistent. Curb that thing will you?”
“You used ass twice in one sentence. Twice in two words in fact. That takes talent,” Kodak admired, so far refusing to take the bait and sensing Taz was out of ammunition.
“Look, if I want a date I’ll go to town. I don’t go with no guy with a Howitzer for a dick,” Taz spat water and words as he expanded his complaint into new territory.
Taz wasn’t able to stand on his own yet and Kodak wrestled to keep him all wet. It was a kind of a dance and a kind of brawl.
“You need to go to town,” Taz recommended, squeezing Kodak’s penis as he moved it out of the line of fire. “You’re making me nervous here, old buddy. I’m still not convinced that thing ain’t got my name on it.”
“I’ve never…. I don’t…. That’s crude,” Kodak argued after a couple of false starts. “Let go of it, Taz. I’m not kidding. That hurts. I don’t like this any more than you.”
“Your lips say no no but your dick says bend over. I ain’t letting go until you disarm this thing. My momma didn’t raise no fool.”
“Taz, let go. You’re hurting me.”
“We’ll call a truce. You let go of me and I’ll let go of Herman here.”
Kodak backed up to let Taz stand on his own, but was embarrassed by his condition as he stood in the middle of the dressing area fully exposed. Grabbing a towel he wrapped it around his small waist for cover. He was flush and getting more so. Taz had gone too far.
Taz reached for the cross beam that ran down that side of the tent, holding himself up with it, letting the cool water revive him before using the bar of soap to wash off the smell of piss and whatever else he’d slept in the night before.
Kodak finished drying off and dressed quickly to hide the evidence of any passion going on between them. The idea his penis would stand up while he was holding Taz was still distressing. It was further proof that what was going on he couldn’t deny. There was no denying his feelings were growing more intense. It would have been fine if Taz wouldn’t grab onto him that way.
“I’m done,” Taz announced. “I’m afraid I’ll fall on my face if I try to walk over there. I’m dizzy. You have that affect on me.”
Kodak brought Taz’s towel, drying his hair and shoulders before handing it to Taz.
“Thanks,” Taz said as he sat down. “You come here often, cowboy?”
Taz vigorously wiped the rest of his body as Kodak stood waiting to walk him back to get dressed before he made sure Taz got to the mess tent.
“Don’t look so sad. I don’t mean anything I say, but I do have one question that seems appropriate,” Taz revealed, wiping his legs from his seated position.
“What’s that?” Kodak said, dropped his guard.
“Didn’t your mama give you any toys?” Taz inquired, looking directly at the bulge in Kodak’s shorts.
“That’s not funny,” Kodak remarked unpleasantly, still uncomfortable from the previous comments and how casually Taz took it all.
“No, I’d say you’re right. That’s some serious something in there. I’ll take you with me the next time I go to town. That will attract some serious babes.”
“That’s not funny,” Kodak repeated.
“Going to town is serious business.”
“That’s crude. You’re crude,” Kodak said in spite of himself.
“You raised with all girls, Kodak? You were, weren’t you?” Taz calculated as he put on the boxers Kodak brought for him.
“Why do you ask that? Why do you care who I was raised with?”
“You act like a girl. We all got one, Kodak. Admittedly not measuring up to yours, but they all do the same thing. It’s not a crime. Most of us figure out how to use them. I just don’t want to be the one you practice on. Guys raised with all girls think they got the only one.”
“Taz!” Kodak declared. “You don’t know anything about me.”
“No, I’m trying to find out. We going out?”
“Taz!” Kodak objected harshly.
“On patrol. We going out on patrol? What am I doing sober? You know I don’t do sober well.”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe. Jacoby said get you up just in case.”
“Lighten up. We all might be dead tomorrow, Kodak. Next time I get drunk I’ll consider letting you have your way with me. I’ll be the last to know.”
“Taz!”
“Oh, that’s just perfect. You were raised with girls. I knew it,” Taz said, standing up to go back across the compound to dress, he swished as he walked as soon as he saw Kodak behind him.
Taz had to catch his towel once it started to slip. He held it closed so he could keep tossing his hips as he walked.
Kodak had three older sisters. His parents divorced when he was three and he became the man of the house. His mother and sisters pampered him, until he reached twelve, his sisters picked on him about being a little boy, which was quite a demotion.
How could Taz possibly know that? Why was he so crude? Why did he worry so much?
This set Kodak back a bit. Once again he viewed Taz as unpredictable. He may have earned the right to be a jerk but that didn’t make Kodak feel any better. Once again Taz had thrown Kodak off balance but he was still a jerk.
Kodak remarked he’d eaten with Hale and Washington earlier and Taz didn’t respond. Kodak liked coffee in the afternoon and there was still some of the tuna surprise he liked without him being sure it was tuna.
“I had two plates of this at lunch. It’s the best food yet,” Kodak remarked after being tired of the silence.
“Yeah, but you’re eating for two. You’ve got to keep your strength up to get that thing loaded and ready to fire,” Taz said with a smirk. “Once you get all worked up showering me it stays hard for an awful long time. I feel guilty for being such a stud.”
Kodak stood up enraged by the comment. Once he stood he realized he couldn’t hide the evidence. He was even more embarrassed that Taz hadn’t let it go.
“You’re an asshole,” Kodak blurted as the other half-dozen late eaters looked their way.
“That’s one. Do you want to go for two asses in the same sentence? Come on, you know I’m irresistible. You can’t help yourself.”
“You’re gross. You’re so gross.”
“Who me?” Taz said innocently. “You know what your problem is, Kodak?”
“No, but I’m sure you’ll tell me.”
“You can’t deal with the fact you’re attracted to me.”
“I am not,” Kodak objected, realizing he was now standing up.
Kodak charged out. Taz shrugged as if he was baffled by Kodak’s conduct. Everyone went back to eating. Taz wasn’t sure why he enjoyed taunting Kodak so much but it was probably a reflex response, coming from liking him more than he was comfortable with admitting.
When Kodak found himself drawn to Taz, it made him uncomfortable. Waking up at night, thinking about them showering together was alarming. He couldn’t ignore it, but Taz’s approach complicated the issue. He wasn’t sure why he got so pissed off at Taz being Taz. If nothing else he was consistent.
Kodak went back to quarters to sulk and wonder why he hadn’t finished eating.
Short Impact
The stand down was given shortly after Kodak got back.
“What’s wrong?” Hale asked, seeing Kodak’s sour face.
“Nothing,” Kodak lied.
“I showered him a few times for Washington. He’s a handful all right.”
“You can say that again.”
“You simply go with the flow, Kodak. I told you, he’ll say anything and doesn’t mean any of it. He wants to be left alone and will say anything to be left alone. You got to ignore his mouth.”
“I keep thinking we’re making progress, and then he cuts loose with the stuff he says.”
“Once he gets back he’ll keep to himself and he won’t remember anything he said. Just let it go.”
“Easier said than done,” Kodak replied, figuring Hale knew what he was talking about.
Taz was back and lying on his newer drier cot, when Kodak looked up from his book. He’d yet to touch the B.A.R. that day, but he’d disassembled and cleaned it each of the last three days. Kodak went back to reading and made no attempt to communicate with the man who fascinated him in more ways than one.
Kodak took his camera out that afternoon and photographed Washington using soapy water to scrub down the cot Taz pissed the night before. The sun had come around to the front of quarters and the light was good, which allowed him to use shadows to make more distinctive pictures.
Kodak clicked two pictures of the shirtless Washington without him knowing he had been caught unaware. He took a picture of the men of 2nd squad throwing around a football. It was a placid scene he might have photographed on a quiet Sunday afternoon at school.
He’d restrained the picture taking to 1st squad for the most part. Getting outside the tent and capturing the camp refreshed him. He caught a soldier coming out of the shower tent with a toothbrush in his mouth, shaving kit in his hand, and a white towel wrapped tight around his small waist.
He photographed men in tight groups walking toward the mess tent. He took a picture of the headquarters building, officer country, and drew a scornful glance from two men smoking on the front porch of the only building in camp.
The weather had cooled somewhat. The afternoon sun was no longer capable of burning the hide off of anyone who stayed in its direct rays for long. The ready status had been relaxed and whatever Sgt. Jacoby’s concerns, they’d passed, but Kodak felt anxious even while photographing seemingly pleasant scenes.
The correspondent at the journalism office at the airfield continued to cross his mind. He found himself trying to imitate the flat drone in his monotone voice. Who would want to talk like that? He practiced it using a few of the lines he remembered, feeling way too involved in the description.
Even taking pictures, he thought about Taz. He had gone from quiet compliance to a form of hero worship in only a few weeks. Taz was an asshole and Kodak wasn’t even sure he liked him any more. The feelings he’d developed for him were in upheaval. He was unique, disorderly, and blunt.
Kodak ignored him when he went back to 1st squad, staying in the rear of the tent near the card table to be in a more friendly circumstance.
*****
The following morning when Kodak returned from the mess tent with Hale, he found a fatigue jacket with the sleeves cut off in the middle of his bunk. Over the left pocket someone had blacked out the name and had printed Kodak above the name tag in bold black letters.
Taz sat on his bunk with his cleaning rags and the B.A.R. across his lap as he buffed the dark wooden stock, not noticing Kodak’s return.
Kodak immediately put the jacked on over his shirt, trying to see how it looked. It made him feel more like a member of the squad. It was a feeling consistent with how he saw his role. Looking around, he couldn’t tell who might have given him such an appropriate gift. The answer came as a surprise.
“I asked Jacoby if it was okay. You need something to cover up those Hawaiian shirts you wear. Don’t get me wrong or anything, I like them fine. I wouldn’t wear one but I got to stand next to you and they make really good targets. I’d hate it for one to get a hole in it,” Taz said nonchalant in a rush of words.
“Thanks,” Kodak said, still trying to model it for himself.
“You cut the sleeves off of everything?” Kodak wondered aloud.
“Just the things I wear on patrol and a few T-shirts for comfort. The sleeves bind my arms and I need to be able to have full motion during a firefight.”
“You have nice arms,” Kodak admired, biting his tongue immediately. “I mean the way they bulge.”
Why did he say stuff like that? He didn’t want to get Taz started again.
“Thanks,” Taz smiled. “Those are nice shirts your sisters picked out for you. A bit pushy with the color for a war zone though, but I like them. I like them a lot. Honest.”
“Yes, well thank you for the thought. I like the fatigue jacket,” Kodak said, proud of himself for not biting the bait and looking at how his Hawaiian shirt sleeves covered his upper arms.
“I figure if I’m going to have a boyfriend, I don’t want him to get shot. Not right away anyhow.”
“Yes, I’ll keep that in mind. I wouldn’t want me to get shot right away either and that saves you from having to break in a new boyfriend.”
Taz sat silent, realizing he hadn’t gotten to Kodak, even if the gift was meant as a peace offering for constantly saying the things he said that upset Kodak so much. He didn’t intend it to come out the way it did. Things just popped out of his mouth. He went back to buffing the stock vigorously.
Sgt. Jacoby gave the official stand down order for the day. The squad had two days before resuming normal rotation on patrol. There had been no enemy sightings in the past twelve hours and whatever had the camp on alert the afternoon before had passed.
The next day was payday and the beginning of a two day poker game. Taz played for an hour, bet almost his entire month’s pay on one hand, and retired to his bunk broke and staring at the top of the tent. He said little and little was said to him. His presence was awkward for everyone, including Taz.
He played cards like he did everything else. It was like there was no tomorrow. He was in Vietnam. You might be dead tomorrow. He didn’t have much to say and everyone gave him a lot of room to say it. Kodak couldn’t help but want to know more. Everyone else was content to leave well enough alone.
As painful as it was, Kodak still envisioned becoming Taz’s friend. He didn’t know why. Taz left few opportunities to get close enough to accomplish the feat. This required a new tactic Kodak hadn’t decided on yet.
He’d never been in a war zone before and perhaps Taz was the natural consequence of the environment, except there was nothing natural about Taz or his behavior. All the other men seemed fairly socialized and in need of some companionship.
Finding out about Taz’s life before Vietnam might be the key to befriending him. Taz could be alone in the middle of a war and no one seemed to notice but Kodak. Not only did he notice; he wanted to do something about it. He’d been alone and never liked it, but it never once occurred to him that Taz might want to be alone.
Kodak had lived a relatively protected life and someone might wonder what the hell he was doing in Vietnam when so many 20 year-olds were doing all they could to avoid being sent there.
Voted least likely to leave home in high school, he couldn’t wait for college to begin. Kodak knew he was looking for something to love and to devote his life to, and that’s why he was heading toward Vietnam when so many were running the other way.
*****
It was another day before they returned to the chopper landing zone above camp. There were two squads already waiting in the LZ, when Kodak arrived to take pictures of his squad’s approach.
This was his attempt to tell the story of 1st squad. He’d been successful at photographing them at play and at rest. Capturing them waiting to go on a mission was another part of their story, and the return home, once a mission was completed would come next.
He’d put all the pictures together with the story he would write about being a member of 1st squad. He carried a camera, shooting friend and foe alike to tell a complete story that would bring Vietnam into perspective for the people at home.
Kodak hadn’t come to Vietnam with a plan in hand. It took some time for him to understand there were parts to the story he needed to tell. Now it was clear and he knew what he wanted to achieve. What he needed to do was tie the pieces together.
Kodak didn’t recognize any of the other soldiers, but he couldn’t resist taking photographs of them as they waited to be whisked away on their mission. He noticed the same faraway gaze on most of the faces.
Standing off to one side, mostly unnoticed, he clicked his pictures. Then, as 1st squad approached, he captured his squad, singularly and as a unit, never telegraphing his shots. Being casual, he went about his work with a cool efficiency that alerted no one to the fact he was documenting their activities. Kodak was learning to be part of the scenery and not part of the scene.
This was where Kodak took advantage of his unrestrained access. No one there was all that focused on the LZ or the men in it. They thought private thoughts. It was the abstract that Kodak couldn’t capture on film, but he could capture the soldiers no matter their state of mind.
These would be the most candid shots yet. It was the first time he’d separated from the squad to photograph them as they readied themselves for battle. He’d taken this kind of shot back at quarters. It was the first time he’d used this approach on a mission.
He felt a greater purpose at work. It wasn’t simply an image he was shooting. He felt it had become more important than that. He was no longer doing a job for a paper back home. Kodak was creating art. He began to understand his responsibility to his men as he did it.
He’d get this film back to the airbase that afternoon. He hoped he would bring back the prints from his first firefight, anxious to see what he’d caught on film. The prints for the film he was sending off on his next trip to the airfield wouldn’t return for two weeks or more.
He understood he could be recording moments that might be someone’s last. If a single photo might give comfort to a soldier’s loved one, he wanted to take it. It was the price he owed for the privilege of accompanying these warriors into battle.
He was subtle and quick, snapping off pictures from many different angles to be sure he included everyone. Having the photo of a man who did not come back would be difficult for Kodak. He tried not to imagine men dying, but in war men died, and he would take a picture of such a man out of his collection of prints and make sure the soldier’s sergeant got it to his family.
He always shot the most pictures of Taz. He wondered if his editor might suspect he had a crush on the unorthodox soldier. It was the easiest thing for Kodak to do with Taz, who never paid much attention to him at times like these.
From the time they gathered until the choppers started coming out of the sky, the squads were subdued, waiting patiently for their transportation. They each had their own place to go at times like these.
Kodak worked his way around 1st squad, shooting them all at least once alone in the shot. The hardest thing for him to do would be to look through his pile of prints for the ones of a member of 1st squad that he’d hand to Sgt. Jacoby. No one close to him had ever died and these men had become like family to him. His was a big responsibility.
Once Sgt. Jacoby’s men loaded into the chopper, it was too loud to talk, but no one had anything to say. The chopper banked lazily away from the landing zone, flying at treetop level.
Taz showed nothing in his expression. Each picture of him was like every picture Kodak shot of him. It really added nothing to the story, and yet when the prints came back, Taz was by far the most photogenic. Maybe the film was able to catch what Kodak couldn’t see.
As soon as the chopper dropped down on the LZ to discharge them, Taz was out the door, the B.A.R. at the ready to protect his squad. One by one they streamed out onto the ground with Kodak bringing up the rear.
He took pictures from that point of view before falling into line behind Hale. He looked over his shoulder to see if he could find Taz without success. By the time the squad moved into the bush, Taz was off on his own.
Kodak made a mental note to get out with Taz next time and stick with him, until he was able to see how he managed to become invisible so swiftly. Doing things swiftly was the way 1st squad moved. Making mental notes didn’t always make sense, depending on what happened between this time and next time.
The activities and the men were so intense it was difficult to remember a random thought about where he might want to be next time. Even the next time was a reach when you were just going out this time. Art didn’t necessarily translate agreeably in a war zone.
Kodak stuck close to Hale. They moved quickly into the dense jungle. Kodak held his camera to keep it from jiggling and maybe going off on its own. The sounds of the invasion force were distinctive. The rattles and movement of equipment and men couldn’t be muffled at this speed.
Kodak couldn’t be certain if it was louder than on the last patrol, because he was way more focused on staying in contact with Hale. He no longer had time to consider where Taz might be.
Patrolling is routine. You move and follow the sergeant, until he tells you to stop, or turn, or until Charlie makes his presence known. It was at that moment that all bets were off and the squad was everything and you stood or fell together.
Kodak didn’t know what the other men felt. He felt some excitement brought on by the swift pace and the anticipation of the fight sent adrenalin racing through his veins. He put himself into the middle of a conflict, bringing only a camera to the fight.
They moved too fast for anything or anyone to listen long. They were on a mission and the squad was wasting no time getting to where they were going. Five minutes before they got to where they were going, they could hear sounds that weren’t familiar to the jungle, unless the birds were armed.
The gunfire was distant and didn’t sound like it did the last time Kodak was near it. It was significant and sustained this time. It went on for some minutes before they got to the scene. The smell of spent ammo hung heavy in the air as smoke drifted through the trees until it encompassed Sgt. Jacoby’s fast advancing rifle squad. There was no hesitation, no reluctance, as 1st squad charged forward.
The men at the front of the formation were firing fast, spreading out as they came upon the battlefield. Kodak could see the engagement as the jungle thinned out to reveal the battle in progress. His camera worked furiously as he tried to capture it all.
No one needed to tell 1st squad how to go into battle. The enemy found itself caught between 1st squad and 2nd squad and the North Vietnamese were unaware they’d been detected this time, and with the entry of 3rd squad a couple of minutes later, the three rifle squads delivered a deadly crossfire. They’d finally caught up with the major force in the area. There would be no slipping away this time.
Hale had moved forward to join the skirmish line as Kodak found what looked like a safe place from which to photograph the scene. It was obvious the enemy force had been surprised and was making an attempt to retreat to reform their line and ended up running into 1st squad, forcing their line to collapse back toward the densest part of the jungle where they hoped to use the cover to hide their retreat.
1st squad closed off an idea of retreating to the north. They were wading in waist high grass, firing at the retreating Vietnamese and creating a serious impairment to their desire to split the scene.
As Kodak searched for pictures, he found Vietnamese also using the trees for cover, while remaining seriously exposed to 1st squad. Charlie moved back one tree at a time in an effort to escape the crossfire. Kodak documented the engagement, never giving a thought to Taz, until he heard the B.A.R. cut loose.
Off the path fifty yards from his own squad, Taz opened up on the retreating North Vietnamese soldiers. The sound of Taz’s weapon overpowered the other sounds on the battlefield. The Vietnamese turned in time to see the man who killed them, falling and dying from overexposure to fire that came from the big rifle stationed in the way of their final retreat.
1st squad advanced excitedly, firing and leaping obstacles as they fought and won control of the field. By the time Charlie ran into the fire coming from Taz, they understood they were cut off and cut down before there was any chance of regrouping.
Taz’s fire forced the survivors back toward 1st squad. 2nd squad closed in from their position and the fire became scattered and less intense after a ferocious exchange. The company of North Vietnamese regulars was no more. A few may have slipped away in the confusion but the body count came to over forty.
Kodak wondered if this was the same force of enemy soldiers they’d been hearing was in the area since he arrived. He remembered the Marine base up north and understood that this was a walk in the park compared to that but they’d taken light casualties compared to the enemies’ loss. They were caught flatfooted and never had a chance to mount a significant attack.
Once the solders from 2nd squad and 3rd squad moved over the area, Charlie had met his match on this day, and Sgt. Jacoby called 1st squad off the hunt. 3rd squad pursued what was left of the enemy as they were last on the scene.
Taz stood opposite the other two squads and Kodak worried he’d be hit by friendly fire. The idea the sound his weapon made alerted everyone to where Taz stood, meant their best weapon was safe from friendly fire. If Kodak immediately recognized the sound of the B.A.R. the other squads certainly knew it was Taz.
1st squad fell back where Ramos had fallen next to the path as a medic attended him. The continuous fire was reduced to short bursts from the direction 3rd squad took to chase Charlie down.
Kodak stepped out from his cover and clicked off five pictures of his hero as Taz carefully made his way back toward his squad. There was a sudden motion and Taz fell back, bending his knee in an adroit move that had him firing toward the sky. He let go with two quick bursts before the big rifle clicked a half dozen times, stopping, only to click some more as he ran out of ammunition.
Kodak heard a single report from another rifle he couldn’t identify. It fired one shot with a singular sound at about the time Taz opened up. There was a high-pitched sound of a bullet passing Kodak’s left ear, smashing into the wood of the tree he’d been using for cover until a moment before.
A slow cracking sound from limbs breaking got his attention back on the tree Taz was firing into and a man dressed all in black fell about ten feet with limbs cracking as he plunged before the rope tied around his ankle stopped him dead. Kodak realized the bullet was meant for him and only Taz stood between him and a body bag.
All was quiet on the western front, for a minute anyway.
“You damn dumb son-of-a-bitch,” Taz screamed, cradling his empty rifle and charging toward Kodak like some agitated bull.
This scared Kodak far more than the just ended battle or the idea he might be dead right now if Taz wasn’t on the job. Taz was having none of it and stood directly in front of Kodak as the soldiers yelled at each other for counts and for helicopters to get the wounded off the battlefield and into the nearest Aid Station.
“What did I tell you?” Taz yelled, paying no attention to anyone else, and no one else came near them.
“Stay down until you tell me I can get up,” Kodak remembered for him.
“You asshole. You’re lucky I didn’t run out of ammunition ten seconds sooner. You’d be dead now. Those guys aren’t playing, Kodak.”
“I know that. I wanted to get some pictures of you in action. I couldn’t help it. It’s what I do. Quit picking on me.”
“I can’t keep you all safe if you’re going to act like fools. I’m not always going to be nearby. Do you understand that? You have no way to defend yourself, Kodak. This is war.”
“Yeah, I understand.”
“When you hear gunfire, what is it you do?”
“Get down, but I was behind the trees, Taz,” he explained.
Taz put one finger up over Kodak’s lips as Kodak wanted to offer some explanation for having exposed himself to danger.
“What?”
“Get down,” Kodak capitulated to a man who knew more about war than he ever could. “I get down and I wait for you to say I can get up.”
“Exactly.”
“Ramos took one in the shoulder,” Washington announced, jogging up to bring Taz two more clips.
“How bad?” Taz asked, slapping a fresh clip into his weapon and pocketing the other.
“Bad enough we’ll lose him. Probably a million dollar wound but he’ll survive. Cohen’s going to get him to the LZ.”
“Anyone else?” Taz asked.
“Not our guys. Two from 2nd squad took hits and one from 3rd squad is pretty bad. That guy you took out of the tree had someone in his sights. There’s a lucky soldier walking around here that don’t know he was almost dead,” Washington blurted excitedly, remembering Taz’s marksmanship..
“Yeah, he does know,” Taz said, looking at Kodak who started to blush again.
“You? Shit!” Washington said surprised. “You’re kidding?”
“I might have to put him in diapers and hold his hand,” Taz growled. “I nearly wasn’t in time. He broke a branch as he was leveling his rifle.”
“You okay, man?” Washington wanted to know.
“Yeah, it missed my head by a few inches. I heard the bullet go by my ear. He saved my life all right.”
“There’s a lot of Charlies who ain’t quite so lucky,” Washington explained, patting Taz’s shoulder. “We caught them flat footed.”
Taz went where Ramos sat on the trail with his shirt off and a large bandage marking where the bullet had come out his back. Temple held an IV up behind him as the medic checked him for other wounds.
Taz leaned in to say something to Ramos and they shook hands as Taz backed off a few paces to the rear and toward where Charlie had last been seen heading for parts unknown.
Cohen became a pack horse and Ramos wrapped his legs around him to stay up on his back. He only had one arm to hold on with but the medic and Temple went along as they headed for the closest LZ.
Sgt. Jacoby met with the sergeants of 2nd and 3rd squad and they gave each other a high five in celebration of finally catching Charlie between their squads. The tension left the scene and the rest of the soldiers sat quietly at the side of the trail, expecting no more action and worn out from the battle just concluded.
Taz stayed close to Kodak once they moved out to be pulled out of the jungle. Ramos was gone and no one expected to see him again. He appeared to be seriously wounded but not anything life threatening. By the time 1st squad was waiting in the LZ Ramos was getting the best medical care in the world.
That evening was quiet. Sgt. Jacoby had already announced that another force had been spotted near where they’d engaged him earlier in the day and the camp went on alert. Charlie was building forces in the area and they’d intercepted a new company, according to the orders they’d recovered from the dead soldiers.
Before daylight they were loading back onto a chopper and heading back toward the area they’d fought in the day before. It changed nothing. The enemy was the enemy and 1st squad went out to stop him. 2nd squad stood down, too short handed to field a full rifle squad and 3rd and 4th squads went into action with them.
Except for grabbing sandwiches that were set on a table outside the mess tent, no one got breakfast. As the chopper raced across the treetops, the sun peeked out for the first time. By the time they hit the ground first light was filtering down through the trees.
They were quickly on another one of those hikes that kept Kodak winded from the time they hit the jungle trail. They moved continuously south and east. There was no briefing, simply a call to hit the deck running and in ten minutes they were on their way to another party given in Charlie’s honor.
Twenty or thirty minutes into the hike Kodak heard the firing. Both groups opened fire at the same time but Charlie wanted to get into the jungle more than he wanted to see how many US soldiers they’d run into. 1st squad went in pursuit, since that’s what they were there for. It was child’s play compared to yesterday’s battle.
1st squad had come to fight but Charlie was caught by surprise, heading to a spot where other units were gathering. Kodak used a tree for cover to get a good look at the firefight. Taz would be proud, but he didn’t check to see where he was. Almost as quick as he began taking photographs, 1st squad was moving in a line toward the enemy who had broken and was moving away from the trail, using the jungle for cover. It was a chance meeting of two like size forces traveling in opposite directions on the same trail.
Short bursts of fire were followed by silence, more short bursts, and more silence. At one point Kodak identified the B.A.R. barking at a distance he couldn’t be sure about. He couldn’t help himself and with the skirmish taking place on the west side of the trail, he headed into the bush in search of Taz. He could find cover if he caught up with the fighting but he didn’t want to miss anything.
There was no thought or plan, simply a response to the sound the big rifle made. The firing had all but stopped, except for a couple of shots now and then at quite a distance. Then, there was another loud burst from Taz.
Kodak thought he wasn’t going to win any rewards chasing the battle. After a few minutes of moving in the direction of the fighting, he had become disoriented and wasn’t sure where the trail was in relationship to where he was. He was lost. There was only the rifle fire to tell him where 1st squad was from time to time.
He thought he’d run into them or they’d run into him before long, or maybe he’d find Charlie, or heaven forbid, Charlie would find him, or Taz might. He thought maybe Charlie would be easier.
This would not end well no matter how it ended, because Kodak knew Taz would find fault with him following a gun battle that was on the move. It was too late to turn back, because he didn’t know where back was, as he stood, looking around him, wondering how anyone could find their way in the undergrowth where he stood. All of 1st squad might be lost forever.
Much to his relief, Hale was walking back toward the trail with his M-16 resting on his shoulder with the barrel pointing behind him as he walked, and he ran right into Kodak.
“Hey,” Hale said. “They’re on the run. I’m tired of chasing them. Washington and Taz are still on their trail.”
“Oh,” Kodak said, trying to sound unconcerned.
“They’ll give it up soon. You know you shouldn’t be out here, Kodak. What if you got lost? This jungle is a maze once you get off the trail.”
“Can’t they get ambushed?” Kodak worried, not wanting to think about being lost. “They didn’t send all these men out here for a half dozen enemy soldiers.”
“Not usually what happens with that small a force. They’re looking to get away,” Hale explained.
“Couldn’t they run into the larger force?” Kodak asked.
“Didn’t give that much thought. I suppose they could. Maybe I should have stayed with them to keep them out of trouble.”
“The shooting has stopped,” Kodak observed.
“You shouldn’t be out here. It’s too unstable an area. One of those snipers might be anywhere around here. They frequently go up to get away.”
Kodak hadn’t thought much about casualties in 1st squad, but it was the first time the fighting had been out of range of his camera. This increased his worry about Taz, because he was out there in parts unknown. His rifle had gone silent and that worried Kodak even more. Could someone have stayed behind and shot Taz?
This sequence of events would leave an impression on Kodak he wouldn’t soon forget. He realized how easily he could have gone in the wrong direction if Hale hadn’t found him. That scared him too. He was still learning and this was a lesson worth remembering.
“You better come on,” Hale advised, seeming to know where he was going.
“Damn you,” came an angry growl as Kodak was taken down. “I’m going to put you on a plane back to the States myself.”
“I was only trying to see what was going on. No one was firing,” Kodak pursued a new approach.
“Don’t you ever do that again, asshole,” Taz yelled, standing over him with the big rifle pointed at the ground next to where he landed. “I don’t know where the hell Charlie is, how the hell do you think you know?”
“I didn’t know where you went,” Kodak apologized. “I was safe as long as I was behind you. You said to stay….”
“Down. Stay down. You are supposed to stay down if you hear gunfire and wait for me to tell you to get up.”
“I know,” Kodak said, sensing something more than anger from Taz this time. “I forgot. I get excited. I’m a photographer already.”
“Don’t worry about where I go. I’m doing my job. You stay behind us and take your damn pictures, but don’t you ever follow me into the bush again. Hell, I could have cut your ass in half before I’d known it was your skinny ass wandering around out here. You’ve got to use your head, Kodak. This is a war zone, not Disneyland.”
Hale remained silent until Taz cooled down a little, and only then did he add his two cents worth.
“Lighten up, Taz. I was with him. I wouldn’t let my personal photographer get hurt, now would I?” Hale remarked. “He’s got a job to do too, you know. He’s going to make 1st squad famous.”
This did give Taz something to think about. The way he tried to protect Kodak might be extreme. What he wanted was for Kodak not to be at risk, but he was there and that put him at risk. He was going to be there and Taz could only protect him within reason. Why was this so important to him? This question came to him out of the blue.
Kodak had never seen his role as making anyone famous. It wasn’t about him. It was about telling a rifle squad’s story in pictures. His job was to tell what it was like for the men who fought the war. The story he was telling was their story. He doubted any of them would be made famous. If they got to go home he’d be happy.
“Come on. Let’s see what the damage is,” Hale suggested, sensing an intensity between Taz and Kodak that needed to be broken.
Kodak moved back onto the trail behind Hale and in front of Taz. He felt relieved. There was a lot of movement and excitement when they rejoined 1st squad.
Washington took one in the helmet. It went in one side, leaving a small entry hole before going out the other side, ripping a chunk out of it. The helmet looked like someone took a can opener to it.
The force of the bullet knocked the helmet free of Washington’s head, likely saving his life because he didn’t have the strap pulled tight. He was still a bit shaken. The squad examined his damaged lid.
While the helmet said whoever wore it took a round in one ear and it went out the other, the round had not gone through Washington’s head. It found an easier way to exit, leaving him with a war trophy worth talking about. Kodak took pictures of it on and off Washington’s head. Everyone was all smiles as they wiggled their fingers through the hole.
1st squad took out three of the enemy in what was likely a splintered force. It could have been the remnant from the battle the day before or part of another force that was moving into the area. The sightings were consistent and the contacts with the enemy were growing.
Kodak had learned some valuable lessons. He wouldn’t go wandering in the jungle on his own again. 1st squad knew exactly where the trail was at all times when they chased Charlie. In a matter of a minute or two Kodak could get lost. He did need to use his head before putting himself in danger. He was lucky this time.
The incident with Kodak was forgotten and Taz went back to being nearly invisible. Kodak snapped pictures and the squad marched easily toward the same LZ that they’d used the day before. It was the first time Kodak recognized this kind of landmark without being told. They met up with the other squads at the LZ and they hadn’t engaged the enemy or seen any sign of Charlie.
Leaving Home
A few hours after being airlifted out of camp, they were back, laughing and happy to have returned safe. There were laments about Ramos and how much everyone enjoyed listening to him strumming his guitar after a few beers, singing Cielito Lindo or Streets of Laredo in a raspy Latin rendition of the familiar tunes.
Ramos was a simple soldier who liked cards, hated war, and there were stories about his family, his girlfriend, and home that he told. When he didn’t feel like singing, he strummed softly, furnishing the background music for 1st squad’s war. His music had ended and no one expected to see him again.
The guitar was left to lean near where he slept. His bunk was left unmade from the final time he’d slept in it. His gear was piled on his bunk and on the floor under it. It wasn’t time to erase Ramos yet, but one day all signs of him would be gone, except for the guitar, waiting for 1st squad’s next guitar player.
After a toast to Ramos which went something like, ‘to Ramos,’ there was no further mention of him. Kodak photographed the guitar from several angles. He didn’t take any picture of Ramos once he was wounded. Kodak didn’t want that kind of print coming back to camp in a pile of prints he’d taken for 1st squad. Besides, that wasn’t the story he was telling. That story was told too often already and it had been told by better journalists than him.
It was an evening of cards and happy soldiers. Having survived another clash with Charlie was something to celebrate. The firepower of Taz was toasted and all was well with 1st squad.
“To Taz!” they saluted, raising their beers to him, as he sat on his bunk cleaning the B.A.R.
Taz raised his beer high for all to see with his back remaining turned to the celebration. He was even invisible when he was their hero. He rarely drank from the beers the soldiers took him, but they made good props for him to raise when he returned salutes. He almost never drank until the B.A.R. was clean and put away.
That day’s skirmish wasn’t mentioned and Kodak approved. It had been little more than a quick exchange, not worthy of celebration. The only casualty was Washington’s helmet, already replaced. A second clash in two days was troubling. He wondered if it might be a sign?
As guys came and went, they’d pat Taz on the back or in some way acknowledge their appreciation for him. When the beer flowed, Taz could always go out and come back with a bottle of booze if no one delivered one soon enough.
Kodak knew Taz was a harmless drunk. He’d known mean drunks. He wasn’t a big drinker because of them. The thought of losing control of himself was never big on his agenda.
He didn’t like it when Taz drank, because it meant the hopes of intelligent conversation were gone. He wanted to have a discussion with Taz that didn’t center on them showering together or his sisters’ influence on his wardrobe, but this was how Taz deflected attempts to get inside his defenses. He was a solitary man, but he had begun to say things that went beyond anything he’d said before.
They’d talked enough for Kodak to know there was a lot more to Taz than soldier and drunk. There was a past and hopefully a future Kodak wanted to know about. It didn’t seem to be on Taz’s mind, but the objections weren’t as strenuous as they once were.
Taz was the last to load on a chopper and the first man off. While it may not expose him to any more risk than the rest of 1st squad, it certainly exposed him to the risk longer. He seemed to accept this as his duty. Kodak wanted to know why.
Kodak assumed Taz didn’t care if he was killed or not. He drank to forget and he took risks to fulfill some need to prove his manhood. He was a hero to Kodak, but that didn’t add any dimension to who Taz was beyond the two obvious things. He seemed to exist in a very tightly defined universe, but Kodak wasn’t buying it. If he drank to forget, what was it he was trying to forget?
The rest of the squad celebrated coming back from a search and destroy mission. It was all the better when they destroyed. It’s why they were there and if they destroyed enough today, maybe there wouldn’t be so much to destroy tomorrow. Getting back to camp had more meaning by virtue of the clash. It gave them a purpose, even if other men paid the forfeit of their lives.
Now they could laugh and drink and play cards. Each had a personality. Hale was happy and carefree, drunk or sober. Cohen was all-business, never giving you much. Washington was the gopher, the go getter that got it, the babysitter before Kodak. Temple was intense and always on point. He saw what was ahead before turning a corner.
Jacoby was sergeant and when he wasn’t all-business, he was still the sergeant, and you didn’t forget that. Otherwise, Jacoby was laid back when off duty and didn’t put himself between his men and their idea of a good time. He partied with his men without seeming like just one of the guys. They always knew he was Sgt. Jacoby.
Those were the people Kodak could think he knew, and this allowed him to know which picture to take and which to leave alone. There was respect involved. By showing respect he was given respect. He would have far more success if he stayed in the background and out of the way, even if he always seemed to be in Taz’s way.
Each soldier had his limit and that’s when Kodak stepped back to be nothing more than scenery. It’s why he took only a distant shot of Ramos, once he discovered he’d been wounded. No one wanted to have a camera shoved in their face at a bad moment.
It was what war was about. It was the cost of war photographs often documented. Kodak knew he’d built a trust with 1st squad. He wouldn’t jeopardize their trust to get his shot, when it might upset the soldiers. 1st squad was the home team and Kodak was visiting. He was trying to reveal the truth without getting in their way. He didn’t want to tell their story at their expense. He wanted to tell their story the way they saw it. They were warriors and when they weren’t warriors, they were just guys. That’s what Kodak photographed.
Kodak examined his camera, looking at the lens for a long time as he lay on his bunk, listening to the happy soldiers celebrating life. He aimed and shot the camera much like they wielded their M-16s. Perhaps he gave more thought to what photo he’d take, but the connection between them wasn’t missed on him.
He learned from journalism class, if you were going to get the story you couldn’t represent a threat to the subject. Kodak related it to being something like a sponge. You sit there looking quite ordinary, as you soak up whatever information you can. Then you decide what is relevant and can be told in a picture and what violates the trust.
Kodak would learn that all new guys were ‘new meat’ and they weren’t to be assimilated too quickly. The guys in the squad owe loyalty to one another. The longer they are together the more loyal they become. ‘New meat’ often comes and goes while more experienced soldiers stay on together. “New meat’ doesn’t always know enough to stay alive.
Experience tells you where to go and when to go there. You learn when to step and when to go around. The men in-country the longest are wiser by ten. ‘New meat’ may come and go with no one knowing who they are.
You can’t afford to care about someone who is likely to die, and each new soldier was more at risk and his mistake might kill him and others as well. It was nothing personal, because war is about surviving. No one is going to hold your hand to walk you around danger, and any tears shed are likely to be shed in private.
There were only two ways you left a squad, until your time was up. You could leave on a helicopter taking you to a hospital. You could leave in a body-bag. If you counted your days before you went back to the world, you better not do it out loud. Guys who counted got over cautious and too cautious could be as bad as careless.
Kodak called for a jeep to go to the airbase the next day before Taz would get up. There were several rolls of film he wanted to send out and he needed to get away for a couple of hours.
It was a new driver but they all drove like Mario Andretti. He went inside and sat his film on the counter. It didn’t take long and there was one more reason he wanted to go to the journalism section.
“That battle in the North. How’d it turn out?” Kodak asked, having thought of it every day since his last time there.
“Khe Sanh? We kicked butt, sonny. They ain’t called the US Marines for nothing,” the bigger, more military looking soldier said.
“Good,” Kodak agreed. “Many casualties?”
“Yep, those boys took one hell of a beating. They stood their ground and kept them som bitches off our firebase. We showed ‘em we ain’t no pansies, sonny.
“They were re-supplied by ground, and once they got ammunition, they pushed Charlie back to bring in close air support and that cleared the way for the choppers to get in.”
“Good, Check for mail,” Kodak said, flashing his ID.
“Nope. Clean as a whistle. No one love you no more, Paul?” the soldier said sadly, leaning on the counter to listen.
Paul hadn’t been called Paul for so long he almost failed to recognize his own name. Even his editor wrote Kodak on messages. He realized he was Kodak. It didn’t matter how that had happened.
“I guess not,” Kodak said, stepping back out into the still cool morning air, leaving inquiring minds behind.
As he waited for his transportation, he caught sight of a big bellied cargo plane at the end of the tarmac. There was something shiny standing in rows near the tail section of the plane. He would have missed it if not for the glare created by the sun shining on them. Like any curious journalist, something that glitters was irresistible to the newshound. Kodak needed to know what he was looking at.
‘What the hell?’ he thought, wondering what could be that shiny that they were sending back to the States.
As he got halfway across the blacktop surface he could see they were small metal boxes and each was being loaded by hand with a steady stream of soldiers going on and off the rear of the plane.
‘What would they be loading by hand with all those forklifts resting nearby?’ He thought as he walked to get a closer view.
“Twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven,” he counted aloud as they’d hardly made a dent in the pile of metal containers.
“Hey, sailor, you don’t want to go over there,” the jeep jockey said before Kodak knew he was there.
“What’s in those containers?” Kodak asked, calculating rapidly in his brain and coming up empty.
“It’s our guys, man. They’re going home,” he said. “Come on, man, you don’t want to go over there.”
“Our guys?” Kodak stopped dead in his tracks as the jeep jockey pulled up to put the passenger seat next to where he stood.
Kodak watched as two men carried each shiny metal object up the ramp onto the rear of the plane. He calculated the size of the boxes. They weren’t big enough for coffins. They were thin and long and two men easily carried one.
“Caskets?” he said more than asked, trying to think they weren’t.
“Shipping caskets. They stay in cold storage until we got a plane load,” the driver said, pointing at a building in a corner of the airfield.
The sign read mortuary.
“Our guys,” Kodak said, thinking ‘my guys.’ “They from the battle up North? Khe Sanh?”
He sat down in the seat with no urge to get any closer. It would have been easier had he not had a far away look. He saw the faces of his guys and felt a sinking feeling in his stomach.
“Some, I suppose. I don’t know if they’ve got those boys out of there yet. They were only able to get in for the re-supply last week. There’s no rush now.”
The ride back was particularly quiet. After the jeep left him he walked away from camp. He needed to think. There had to be dozens, hundreds even. How many Americans were dying? This conversation with himself always came back to 1st squad. How would he handle major casualties involving his guys? How could he handle it? What was he doing there anyway?
Kodak knew men died at war, but he had no idea so many were dying in this one. He didn’t know anything about the Vietnam War, except it was a war and he wanted to see it up close. Seeing piles and piles of soldier’s caskets was too close for comfort. The cost of war had never been made so apparent. Shiny boxes with the bodies of boys who a short time ago were full of hopes and dreams.
Kodak didn’t feel he was in any more danger than before but what he feared was that 1st squad wasn’t as safe as he once thought. These were unpleasant thoughts to have. He’d grown fond of 1st squad and he didn’t want any of them to go home that way.
*****
The idea of having a photo-journalist was popular with the squad. Having your photo-journalist killed while with your squad would be depressing. He was safer than anyone else, because 1st squad kept him safe.
Kodak knew he was protected by the men around him and Taz was too protective. His danger was limited by everyone, except when he went into a battlefield looking for Taz. He knew better and he did it anyway. This time he wasn’t in that much danger. Charlie wasn’t looking for a fight and they’d eagerly gone back into the jungle.
If one of the enemy lay back to cover his unit’s retreat, he might try to take out Kodak, which meant his squad would try to stop him. His presence created risk. His actions created even more risk.
It turned out fine yesterday and Hale came to the rescue, after he became lost. Kodak vowed he’d never take that kind of risk again. Getting caught up in the emotion of the moment in battle didn’t leave a lot of time for clear thought. Kodak reacted without thinking. He hadn’t been able to do anything about that yet.
Hale had put it in perspective. It made him feel good that Hale took up for him in front of Taz, and Taz was just doing time, hoping to live to tell about it. Although Kodak felt Taz wouldn’t tell anyone about it. If he lived to get home from the war, he would keep it locked inside.
Kodak had a lot on his mind and walking away from camp was no smarter than walking off into the jungle, but it was the only way to be alone.
*****
Sgt. Jacoby came late to the game. He put his map away, after the meeting with the other sergeants. He was later because there was a battle of note to discuss from two days before. They’d probably compared notes with the battalion officers to decide what came next. If there was anything left of the force, it was out of reach for the time being. Sightings had stopped.
Sgt. Jacoby never talked about what took place at the meetings. No one asked him or if they did Kodak never heard such a conversation. It was as if they were in two different armies. Sgt. Jacoby belonged to the army that made the plans and the squad belonged to the army that carried them out.
Kodak thought he wanted to know what came next but it wasn’t his place to let his curiosity surface. Some of the guys retired from the game, some never came to the table, and others wrote letters home, read, or lounged on their bunks. Each relaxed in his own way.
The money always flowed in the same direction and the same three men were usually left to divvy up the squad’s pay, or that part of it that went into the middle of the table. Cohen always seemed to win, Temple mostly won, and Jacoby won as often as he lost. The rest of the squad got out of the game the first night or some lasted until the second.
Kodak played the same twenty bucks every month. He seldom lasted into the second day. He would rather read, and many times he sat out the end of the month game and played once they were down to penny ante, after most members of the squad were broke.
Kodak read by the light coming from the card game and fell asleep about halfway through The Hobbit.
*****
“Hey, come on, let’s go eat,” Hale said, shaking Kodak until his eyes snapped open.
“What day is it?”
“It’s tomorrow already. It’s time to eat. You’ll feel better once we get some coffee in our stomachs. Come on, Kodak. Get up.”
“You’ll feel better,” Kodak muttered.
“Yeah, as a matter of fact I will. Everyone else is asleep. I don’t like going alone. Besides, I can talk to you.”
“Did he piss last night?” Kodak asked, stalling for time enough so he could find his legs.
“It’s Taz. Of course he peed himself. It’s what he does.”
“Don’t remind me.”
“Well, come on and you won’t need to think about it. He won’t need to get up for hours. We’ll probably have a couple of days to do nothing but sleep and eat. Ain’t it great?”
“How is it you have so much energy?” Kodak asked sleepily.
“Early bird gets the worm, dude. First he’s got to get a cup of coffee. Worms ain’t up yet.”
The coffee was strong, the eggs were bland, but Kodak liked the toast that was cold by the time it hit the tray in the serving line. Guys were rowdy and loud after a good night’s sleep. It reminded Kodak of the cafeteria at school.
A lot of the guys were like Hale. A few hours of sleep and they had to get up and do something. Hale was intelligent, polite, and he had a surprising amount of experience for a nineteen year old.
Between yawns Kodak noticed how young some of the guys looked. They all seemed to have extraordinary appetites. He’d left his camera under his bunk and satisfied himself by taking mental pictures of the men he ate with, or didn’t eat with in this case.
Kodak went back to his book once he got back to quarters, while most of the guys lounged around, making small talk, and coming and going in small groups as the morning passed. The quiet suited everyone in 1st squad just fine.
By about three Kodak was getting hungry. He figured to kill two birds with one stone, and roused Taz from his stupor. Getting Taz on his feet, he stripped down his bed before dragging him over to the shower tent. He knew as quick as he shed his towel there would be fodder for Taz’s odd sense of humor, but he was in no mood for it today. It had to be done and he was doing it.
Much to his surprise Taz was a pussycat. Of course it was no surprise, because you never knew what you’d get with Taz. In short order Taz was able to hold himself up. There were no remarks, jokes, or references to Kodak’s endowment or where he put it. Kodak was almost disappointed by the smooth transition from drunk to sober soldier.
Was Taz mad at him?
Taz dressed himself but needed Kodak to lace up his boots, because leaning over reminded Taz he wasn’t sober yet. Kodak knelt in front of him and laced them as Taz watched and remained silent. Why was he even wearing his boots?
The mess tent was just starting to form lines for the evening meal. Kodak stood behind Taz who wasted no time. Kodak flashed his credentials and the sergeant smiled. It was all quite civil in the face of an army that truly believed it traveled on its stomach, even when it wasn’t going anywhere.
He followed Taz off to one side and they were quickly digging into the steaming hot meal.
There were no tastes he recognized right off but it was hot and he’d skipped lunch. After consuming much of what he’d taken, Taz watched Kodak eat. It was remarkable Taz could keep anything down after drinking all that booze.
Once Taz finished and remained seated with him, Kodak knew it was coming. Taz couldn’t be quiet for that long and not come up with something wiseass to say. He was waiting for the right moment.
“You never did tell me what you feed it,” Taz said in a nonchalant and casual way.
“Why do you want to ruin my meal? What do you get out of talking that way?”
“I’ve got a Nikon myself. You’re a professional and I thought you’d give me hints about the right film.”
“Oh,” Kodak said. “It’s all Kodak film. My paper sent me a hundred rolls in a box last month, the one under my bed. I’ll never use it all. I’ll give you a few rolls if you want.”
“Nah, it’s at home. I’m here. Kodak, you own a piece of Kodak, Kodak?”
“No, I own the camera. I own my pictures.”
“You do? How’s that work?”
“My college professor said that I wanted to own the rights to my work, because it was my life that was on the line. My paper pays my expenses and gets first rights to publish the pictures they like.”
“Can you make much money on pictures?” Taz asked.
“No, but you want to own what’s yours. I might have enough to put in the book I’ll write about all this.”
“You going to write about me, Kodak?”
Kodak looked at Taz thinking this was very unlike him. He’d been acting strange since he got up. The curiosity about what he did and asking about his intentions was new.
“I’ll never get rich taking pictures. If I write that book you’ll probably be mentioned.”
“You must get all the girls with that thing,” Taz followed up smoothly.
“Me? Girls? No, I’m not a ladies man. I had pimples. I had serious pimples. Besides, I only figured photography was the way to go when no one would take me seriously as a reporter. For some reason they need photographers,” Kodak explained carefully.
Taz put his finger to his head and cocked his thumb and made a shooting sound when his finger went off.
“What’s that mean?”
“It means photographers don’t last all that long. It’s a lot easier to stand behind a tree and write about men shooting at each other. To take a picture you’ve got to get out in front of the tree,” Taz said, repeating the finger to his head to emphasis his meaning.
“Oh!”
“But I meant your peter. I’ll never feel the same going into battle with my girlfriend again after having that thing up the crack of my ass,” Taz said, using the finger to fire at Kodak’s lap.
“You know, you’re an asshole, don’t you?” Kodak said. “I’m sure I’ve told you that.”
“I’m hurt and after all we’ve meant to one another,” Taz said. “Does this mean the engagement is off?”
“I’ve never been around a man who talks about another man’s endowment before,” Kodak said.
“No?”
“It’s not normal,” Kodak insisted on the verge of losing his temper.
“What’s normal? I’m out here shooting at human beings and they’re shooting back at me and this is normal, but my curiosity about someone with an impressive appendage between his legs isn’t normal?”
“You know what I mean,” Kodak defended. “You don’t talk about it in public.”
“I naturally assumed the girls got off on it, but forgive me for noticing what a lot of guys must have noticed by now.”
“Yes, but they had manners enough not to talk about it.”
“That may be true but you didn’t have it up the crack of their ass, or maybe you did. It would be hard not to notice in that case,” Taz said, checking to see if he’d gotten a rise out of Kodak yet.
“You should be grateful that I take care of you.”
“Oh, I am. I never said I wasn’t grateful. I don’t think I’m grateful enough to bend over for you. I might be a lean mean fighting machine, but I ain’t no fool.”
“Why do you say that stuff?”
“The truth? I don’t know. I’m an honest guy and the look on your face only encourages me. You take everything so seriously and it gives me something to do.”
“You hardly talk at all, and when you do talk, all you want to talk about is my dick. It’s frustrating.”
“You should be grateful. I usually don’t have much to say to anyone. You’re different. You got my attention. I’m not sure I trust you enough to bend over to pick up the soap though, but who knows what surprises the future might hold?”
“How am I different?”
“You’re the first guy that had his dick up my ass. As a matter of consequence from holding me up in the shower no doubt, except for the erection. I keep asking myself about that. I can understand your reluctance to explain your feelings for my ass, but who else would I ask, I ask you?”
“It’s a biological reaction I have no control over. My dick just does it when it wants.”
“It’s not when but what it wants that worries me, and let’s call it a cock. One of my friends at home was named Dick and every time you say dick, I picture him. Cock is more accurate anyway.”
“Not Peter?” Kodak quizzed with a smirk. “I had a friend named Peter.”
“I didn’t have any friends. You can say Peter if it suits you.”
“Why are we talking about this?”
“We’re talking about your proclivity to become erect while you’re standing behind me in the shower. The terminology is simple mechanics if we can agree on the terminology.”
“Cock is fine with me,” Kodak said, exasperated.
“Yes, well, there is some truth in that comment, I suspect.”
“Cut it out, Taz. I’m not amused. Why do you turn everything inside out and sideways? You’re not getting away with it this time. I don’t want you talking about my dick, peter, cock, is that understood?”
“Why are you so angry with me? I just asked a question of a man who takes care of me. I’m not good with girls. I’m not good with anyone as you may have noticed. I don’t like anyone and they don’t like me, but you’re new here. Forgive me for living,” Taz said in fraudulent despair.
“What about your girlfriend?” Kodak wondered.
“I lied. I’ve never had one. I just turned nineteen. Do you think it’s too late? How many girls would date a guy who kills people for a living? I think it’s too late.”
Kodak stared at Taz for a minute, trying to remember the circuitous route that brought them to where they were in their conversation. There was a question on his mind that had been there since the first time he helped Taz shower.
“Are you… are you…. A homosexual?” he leaned forward before he said the word softly.
“I’m nothing. I’ve never done anything with anyone, but I’ve never had a big prick up against my ass before either. It was something. I’m not sure what, but what the hay, we may all be dead tomorrow. You got to get your thrills while you can. If you tell anyone I said that, I’ll deny it.
“I told you not to talk about my….”
“You said dick, peter, cock. I have a good memory when I’m sober. What happens when I’m drunk, no biggy. I can live with what I don’t know I did. I said prick and you haven’t told me about your girlfriends. It is what normal guys talk about in a place like this. I hear that all the time.”
“I had pimples. I told you that. Girls wouldn’t get within a country mile of me.”
“You’re from the country?”
“No, I’m not from the country. Quit it.”
“You are confusing. So you’ve not used that thing on a chick?”
“Taz!”
“Yes, and you are Kodak. I said thing. I was very careful not to say dick, peter, or cock. Can’t I get some credit for trying?”
“You aren’t funny.”
“I’ve been told that. Charlie in particular believes it, but not for long if I have anything to do with it. I really have difficulty with someone that is taking pictures of men dying but can’t say the word dick without blushing. We’ve all got one. I venture to say all the men here have one. I won’t ask them to prove it, that wouldn’t be normal, but you can trust me on this one.”
“We don’t have to talk about it. I want to talk to you. I like talking to you. There’s a lot of other things to talk about, Taz,” Kodak implored, determined to get beyond the limited topics Taz talked about.
“Yes, there are. We’re fighting for truth and freedom so I can talk about a guy’s dick if I feel like it.”
“Not mine,” Kodak insisted.
“But yours is the only one I’ve been in touch with.”
“Quit it. I’m not talking about it anymore.”
“Are you?”
“Am I?”
“Are you homosexual?”
“No. I am not,” Kodak objected.
“No… you am not what?”
“I’m not what you said.”
“You’re not very persuasive. If I were you I’d want to be clear on this subject. Don’t you think?”
“I’m not homosexual,” Kodak said angrily as several nearby tables went quiet, looking toward the very loud Kodak.
“I didn’t think so,” Taz said, smiling proudly. “It’s safe, Kodak. You’re safe. My life is a snake pit. You really think I came over here to think about that? No, I came here to get away from that. Don’t expect me to feel guilty about embarrassing you. You invite embarrassment. It’s the best I got right now, Kodak. Maybe be happy I talk to you at all. I don’t talk to anyone.”
Kodak wasn’t sure what that meant. He heard the words and he needed to give it some thought.
His food was cold and so was the idea of trying to get to know Taz better at the moment. He’d never met anyone like him before and the only good thing to come out of their dinner time chat was Taz talking in full sentences, even if the topic of conversation was perplexing, it was talking.
Kodak did feel happy about that. He would work on it.
Photogenic
During the down time, Kodak went about taking pictures of the squad at rest. He took the most snapshots of Taz. In spite of his perplexing nature, Kodak’s camera was drawn to the contradictions that were Taz. It became easier to be around him, because Taz allowed it by not objecting.
They’d taken a hike one afternoon, when Kodak wanted to go exploring. Taz found a tennis racket without any strings. He played a mock game of tennis as Kodak clicked away. Taz played to the camera, ending up with the tennis racket around his neck.
Kodak laughed at him as Taz used the handle to pull himself this way and that. Between pictures Kodak became hysterical. Taz laughed openly and acted like a regular guy.
“You’re fun when you want to be, you know,” Kodak said.
“This isn’t a place where fun lasts for long. It’s easier just to do your time.”
“You sound like it’s prison,” Kodak said.
“If I decided to leave it would be. Better a prison than a graveyard.”
“You’re obsessed with death,” Kodak reasoned.
“My business is death, or haven’t you noticed? You can call for a jeep and leave any time you please,” Taz shot back.
When Taz didn’t leave Kodak angry, he left him deep in thought about the meaning in his words, and Taz never strayed far from the war.
Back at quarters, Taz went back to methodically cleaning the B.A.R. Kodak took to reading, spending an inordinate amount of time looking over top of The Hobbit at the mystery that was his friend.
Sgt. Jacoby sat at the card table with the map open to mark the LZ they could use to intercept Charlie when the call came. The pictures were of a man focused with his hair plastered to his forehead as the mid-day humidity peaked.
Jacoby was almost never aware of Kodak taking his picture. This time it was the map he examined that had his complete attention. His need for a haircut and a shave was obvious, but it wasn’t as bad as when some of the squad let themselves go.
Washington had become very quiet after his near death experience. The happy friendly gopher slept more than seemed usual. These were the pictures of Washington he took, wondering why he had become so remote. Kodak hoped it would soon pass. He liked Washington’s energy.
Cohen was always talking about the construction projects his family had undertaken. His phone calls home were usually about business. His family didn’t believe in dodging military duty. Cohen had leadership qualities and didn’t mind getting his hands dirty. He could have easily gotten a deferment to go to college, but he didn’t.
Hale regaled his comrades with stories of racing. He’d describe his competition, their machines, and the tension that went with high speed drag racing. As he ran the race in his head he made accompanying sounds to go with the description. He almost always won for 1st squad.
While photographing an animated Hale going through his paces, he rolled off the back of his chair while shifting gears, proving his dragster to be more stable than his chair. Kodak caught it all on film as 1st squad got a good laugh. This time it was Hale that blushed.
These photos returned with a note from his editor, who was pleased with Kodak’s candid shots. They did remember he was out there. The States had gone particularly quiet for Kodak. He realized the war was on TV every night and a still photographer lost somewhere in-country was insignificant.
The 1st squad was no longer an army unit that he tagged along with. They had become his family and friends, the brothers he never had. It was like he belonged with them and they with him.
He was at ease with his rifle squad. It was like going on a picnic or to the beach, you knew when to take pictures and when to relax. Each soldier had a different personality and offered a unique view of men at war.
Sometime during Kodak’s second month in Vietnam, he forgot about the first roll of combat pictures he’d taken and kept looking for. Instinctively he knew there would never be any other pictures from his first trial by fire. They had significance only for him. There would never be any more intense pictures than these, but like so much in war, you had to be focused on what you were doing today.
He went about learning his craft as a photo-journalist. He learned by examining closely the prints that created a pictorial record of the war as 1st squad experienced it. He stayed busy looking for new subjects and the perfect shots he saw from time to time.
There were battle pictures. For some reason the mid-clash pictures were rarely in the pile of prints he received back from the States. Was this his paper’s idea or the Army’s? Besides the first roll of combat pictures, there were others he remembered but had no print to match. Maybe they didn’t come out well enough to make prints, he thought.
His access was unlimited. He knew the negatives were back in the world and he’d make sure to collect them once his tour in Vietnam ended. He’d been on pins and needles for weeks at first. Now, he was almost as casual as the regular army soldiers he accompanied.
He enjoyed the flow of the squad when they were highly focused on the mission at hand. Taz remained the subject that most captivated him and he was at the center of most pictorial arrangements. He dominated the battlefield and while his presence in camp was a bit more interactive as time went on, he was an unassuming warrior.
He had begun to open up some to Kodak. His propensity for repartee softened remarkably. The jousting matches he employed to maintain his distance seemed to go out of fashion. Kodak wondered if he’d undergone Taz’s version of trial by fire. He was someone Taz couldn’t keep at arms length.
Taz was never interested in seeing the prints of himself, while most of the squad gathered around to see each one. Washington returned to his more energetic self as time rolled forward. He was always in the middle of the fray when prints came back to Kodak. At these times Kodak would realize, after seeing one picture, he’d taken two or three similar or at the same time, but where were these?
“Can I have that one,” a soldier would say from over Kodak’s shoulder.
Kodak dutifully handed it back, not knowing who got which print. The individual prints of each soldier were offered to that soldier first. Each was numbered and if a conflict broke out over a print, Kodak made a note to order a second print and who it was for. His requests were always honored. How did he ask for something that wasn’t there?
Kodak kept the pictures of Taz in the back of his latest journal. He thought he might change his mind one day and want to see them and if he didn’t Kodak was happy to have them. He saw these pictures as his best work.
The journals were filled with detailed descriptions of the squad’s activities. Taz was at the center of most of the detailed prose. Kodak had the most to say about him. It wasn’t objective writing but it was honest. A book would come out of it but Kodak didn’t know what form the book might take.
Taz and Kodak had become friends. Kodak stopped trying to figure out what made Taz tick and accepted that being around him made him happy. In return, Taz had stopped trying to embarrass Kodak in an attempt to hide his own insecurity concerning sexual matters. This was working for both of them and none of 1st squad ever knew it was a problem.
Taz did have a past and a family, and the stories slowly came out. Kodak was sure it explained the taciturn soldier who had begun opening up. He confided in Kodak that he joined the army to escape his abusive father, forging his signature on his induction papers when he was seventeen.
The other change came in Taz’s drinking habits. He continued drinking the beer that flowed irregularly through 1st squad. The liquor bottles no longer appeared. Taz rarely wet his bed after drinking beer. When they went to the shower, they went together, and each showered himself.
Kodak and Taz most often ate together, and Washington and Hale sat with them a lot of the time. Taz rarely said more than a few words with other people around him, and those words usually answered a question directed at him.
That’s not to say that Taz didn’t try Kodak’s patience at times. There was the time Kodak was soaping up his humidity-plastered hair, when he heard his camera clicking away. By the time he got the soap washed out of his eyes, Taz grew hysterical over even Kodak’s ears turning red.
Beefcake shots going to his editor wouldn’t be seen as professional, he thought, but his editor would have to know he didn’t take them, and there were pictures on the roll he didn’t want to lose. Being one of the truly spontaneous moments with Taz, he cooled off before he went off.
The thought occurred to him that he should destroy the roll of film. The note that accompanied these pictures back into the war zone got Kodak’s attention.
“The Defense Department wants me to inform you that pornographic images aren’t allowed, charges pending. Patty and Toni want to know when you’re due back. They seem to be keenly interested in part of your personality they hadn’t noticed before.”
At the bottom was written in small print, “Just kidding about the Defense Department. They’re considering using one of your pictures. We hold back what we may use.”
They’re as in whom? Kodak wondered, before continuing to read. At least someone was looking at his stuff.
“We are putting together some of your pictures in the magazine section for one of our Sunday editions. I’ll keep you posted. Any notes you’ve taken might be helpful. Keep up the good work.”
“Huh,” Kodak said to himself. “They’re going to finally use some of the pictures. Better late than never, I suppose.”
The pictures he took this week were the ones he remembered best. Next weeks pictures would be the ones he remembered the week after. With months of photography behind him, remembering individual photos for more than a few days was difficult.
It all blended together as one day merged with the next. He could no longer separate the days. It was almost like being suspended in time. He no more could destroy any of the photos that marked his time in-country than he’d leave 1st squad or Taz. He was part of them now, and time was part of something else.
When he got back to quarters, he separated the nude shots from the ones he’d show to the squad, putting them in the back of his latest journal.
Kodak’s journals were incomplete, even though he envisioned two books coming out of them. He already decided to separate Taz from 1st squad in a separate book about him. Even as they drew closer to one another, Kodak considered Taz to be an extraordinary soldier. He’d need to figure out how to start such a book, but all he had was time.
Kodak’s writing took almost as much time as his reading by the time his third month ended with 1st squad. Each new event added fresh material for Kodak. Instead of letting it rip as he described or recounted something, he took more time to search for better words and better ways of describing similar events.
There were some brutal battles coming closer to the camp. Kodak noticed the barbed wire surrounding the airfield on one of Kodak’s visits. On the following visit he saw the guard towers standing every fifty yards at the edge of the tarmac inside the wire. A month later the road leading to the airfield had several checkpoints, manned by MPs. One set of guard posts was at the newly installed gate next to the tarmac.
The jeep driver was waved right through going in both directions, but Kodak had light hair, lighter skin, and didn’t represent someone they’d suspect. It was a sign of the increasing security. The danger was coming closer to 1st squad.
Temple, Washington, Hale, and Taz were all that was left of Sgt. Jacoby’s squad from when Kodak arrived. There was a seam between these men and the new guys. Kodak sat and talked easily with them, but wasn’t able to feel as at ease with the newer soldiers, and he knew why.
Everyone was equal in front of his camera, when they went out on patrol, but he rarely took shots of the new guys around camp. As the weeks and months passed, these new guys came, were replaced, and some of their replacements were replaced, while the original five and Kodak remained a tightly knit group.
It was two months after mentioning it before his paper sent him the copy of the magazine section with six of his pictures featured in a Vietnam story. It wasn’t about 1st squad at all, although Kodak remembered he hadn’t sent them any of his notes. Only Jacoby and Hale were featured in individual photos and the group pictures they selected didn’t show Taz or Washington in them, which left Kodak disappointed.
Kodak noticed Taz had been aging since they’d met, when he went through the pictures he’d taken of him over time. While Kodak was a year older than Taz, it was hard to relate to him as a younger man. He carried himself like a more mature guy.
It was easy to see that when Taz came or went, the newer guys stood aside, giving him free passage. Each knew his life might well depend on the man with the big rifle, because he was possessed and a demon in combat. Otherwise they steered clear of him.
Kodak’s bunk had become the center of the old timer’s downtime. None of them paid much attention when Kodak went into the photo-journalist mode. Each knew he’d see the results when they returned. Beyond that he was simply one of the squad. This attitude made Kodak’s job nearly routine.
The card games continued and it was the only time ‘new meat’ and old timers spent time together when they weren’t out on patrol. Sgt. Jacoby stood in the middle ground. He favored the old timers but he did all within his power to protect each new guy as he came to 1st squad.
Jacoby was probably in his mid-twenties but his face, especially around his eyes, made him look older. The gray hair began appearing at his temples with a few longer strands invading the top of his freshly cut hair. Kodak noticed the subtle changes in the prints that came back from the world. He set aside any that he thought distressing.
If Jacoby knew the outcome when one of our guys was hit, he didn’t say. No one asked. When a guy left the squad, his bunk was folded along with the blanket and anything else that was there. When a new guy arrived, he would set the cot back up and that was his bunk without anyone mentioning the last resident.
You were wise not to think about the last soldier. Kodak had pictures of everyone who came through 1st squad during his time in-country. He didn’t look at the faces of the men who died or those who had been wounded. What was the point?
At the time when a soldier left the unit, Kodak picked out the best prints he had of the man, sending them to his editor, asking him to send them to the soldier’s family, when appropriate. Kodak had written a formal letter in the beginning of his time in-country that covered who he was and that he’d taken these pictures of this soldier as part of a photographic record of his time in Vietnam.
Kodak thought about everyone he photographed. He created a complicated numbering system to tell him who was on which roll of film. When someone was wounded or killed, he would notify his editor. The editor picked out the pictures indicated, sending them along with a copy of the earlier letter to the family.
There was no way for Kodak to know if his editor did it or not, but he’d done all he could. He’d contact each man’s family once he returned to the world and tell them what a fine soldier the man was.
This was the kind of thing Kodak was driven to do. It was the right thing. He’d worked out the numbering system and the letter to simplify matters. This made it a bookkeeping chore, which gave him less time to think about it.
Kodak had been asked to reduce his trips to the airfield to twice a month. This was a security measure for non-combatant personnel. Kodak didn’t read this as a good sign. The lax attitude obvious when he arrived had become more and more severe. The war was intensifying and getting closer to 1st squad and everyone knew it.
Kodak was good as long as he had the camera between him and the men he recorded on film. When they saw the prints, they’d be excited, bashful, and at times flattered. The reaction provided more material about the men.
Hale and Washington remained his best allies, but Taz had become his best friend. He laughed at the idea of it. He’d never met anyone as contrary as Taz, but slowly the confrontational relationship mellowed.
It took some time for Kodak to find out Taz had been orphaned at an early age. The father he spoke of and hated, and who kept a strap on the back of the kitchen door just for Taz, was his adopted father, but the only father he’d known. He was an outsider at home and wasn’t allowed to forget it. He was expected to eat modestly, ask for nothing, and not to take up too much space.
Taz treaded lightly at home, until he couldn’t take it any more. He fought his first war at home before he decided to go to Vietnam. He trusted no one, having a low opinion of the world he was born into.
He reluctantly admitted to trusting Kodak, because he had proven to be trustworthy. Kodak had acted like he wanted to know Taz and once Taz decided he couldn’t discourage him any longer, he let Kodak know something about him. The more time that passed the more he told him.
Kodak didn’t have a father, but he had three sisters and he was probably pampered, especially when he considered Taz and how he was raised. Kodak had always loved life but it was a lonely love he practiced by himself.
Even without a father, he knew he was luckier than Taz had been. After his sisters decided to make his life miserable, he still had a home where he was comfortable and well fed. He’d always wanted to have a close friend, but until Taz, he didn’t have one.
Taz would have gladly given his father to Kodak and he was just as happy being alone, until Kodak came along. With their different approaches to life, they managed to enjoy one another’s company. It had been a friendship slow in developing.
*****
One afternoon the camp came alive with an energy Kodak had never sensed before. Charlie was close by. One of the squads had been hit, and hit hard. There was barbed wire strung and the guard posts were doubled on the trip into the base. Each squad was responsible to have a man on guard at all times, which brought the war up close.
There were several more brutal firefights, and all the squads went into the field at the same time. Charlie’s strength in the area had increased and another company was moved in to bivouac inside the wire and was quickly joined by a second company that set up camp on the opposite side of the airbase just inside the wire there.
The number of helicopters speeding overhead, coming and going from the camp’s LZ, increased. 1st squad was loading onto one more often on patrol. Jeeps came speeding up past the row of tents on the way to the headquarters’ building. The increased activity alerted 1st squad that there was a new intensity to the war.
A few weeks later Kodak took an early jeep into the airfield to send off his latest film, and upon his return he found bulldozers clearing the jungle away from the back of 1st squad’s tent. By the time they stopped there was another compound twice the size of the original camp.
More tents sprung up in long rows. More soldiers came in deuce-and-a-half trucks to fill the tents. The LZ at the top of camp tripled in size and helicopters sat at the ready during daylight hours. The noise and activity increased by the day and an MP post was installed at the entrance of the new facility.
The buzz was all bad. Charlie had been infiltrating the area for months. They were there one minute, gone the next. The idea the enemy was living and disappearing underground was new in the area and difficult to reconcile with normal military tactics, but nearby underground complexes were found.
The Tunnel Rats came to destroy the holes where Charlie had disappeared. They discovered corridors leading away from the tunnel entrance. There were underground barracks, mess halls, medical facilities, and supply depots. The enemy was living right under the US Army’s feet. Being there one minute and gone the next was explained in a most unsettling way.
Now the Tunnel Rats became explorers, adventurers, crawling through a maze of chambers inside the holes. This made it possible, even likely, that the Tunnel Rat might encounter the enemy inside his lair, which did nothing for morale, but they kept going into the holes.
Once an enemy maze was located the explosives squad was called and they wired it from one end to the other to render the site useless to the enemy. The question remained, how many more of these hideouts were there? Tear gas was employed whenever possible. Once it was in the holes, you couldn’t tell what might come out.
Going down into a hole was one of the most dangerous duties there was. Soon after tear gas became the way to clear the enemy out of their holes, gas masks began showing up underground. Charlie didn’t hesitate to do whatever it took to stay one step ahead of the US Army. Charlie was adaptable, mobile, and persistent.
Kodak saw a man from another squad strip to his waist and with a knife in his teeth, he slithered into a newly discovered hole. Wanting to know what it was like, Kodak asked to go down. He didn’t get far before he wanted to get out. It was pitch black and a little like being buried alive, Kodak confessed.
One morning, with little notice the squad was told to form up and report to the new chopper pad. Several other squads were already waiting to be transported into what was termed a hot zone. It was the usual orderly wait. Charlie was everywhere at once.
With six squads in the field, the utmost caution was necessary to keep from shooting at each other. The sergeants formed a circle and compared maps, checking their watches to estimate the time it would take to make it from the transit point to the center of the area where Charlie had been seen in large numbers.
It was all relatively simple, and by the time the first helicopter lifted off, the leaders of the expedition were satisfied with their information. 1st squad received no briefing. They went out to search and destroy. Keep moving and don’t fall back.
Each squad was responsible to keep their ears, as well as their eyes, open. If they heard gunfire it was important to head in that direction to offer assistance as fast as possible. Charlie was getting bolder and the job of intercepting him more difficult.
It took fifteen minutes for their turn to come to load. Taz sat by the door. Kodak had taken a place behind the door gunner, photographing his squad as they checked and rechecked their equipment. No one paid any attention to Kodak’s new location. He was always moving around for a better shot.
Taz was somber and never broke a smile as Kodak shot his face, its intensity, and the man behind the brooding eyes. Kodak ignored the helicopter’s maneuvers, being completely focused on his work, using the back of the co-pilots seat to steady himself.
Once the chopper leveled off, he turned to get shots of the driver and his co-pilot, which brought warm smiles his way. These men were confident and in control. The flight time seemed short as the helicopter banked in to approach the latest LZ.
Kodak’s planned exit from the chopper depended on split second reactions if he was to get out of the door to photograph first squad as they hit the ground.
He could feel the helicopter losing altitude as it leveled out on its approach to whatever flat spot they’d picked out to place 1st squad in the position to carry out the day’s patrol.
Kodak’s plan also depended on the squad and how fast they could move, which was no more than a minute to belch out first man to last. The biggest obstacle would be Taz, who had great timing in making his turn, while still seated, to get himself out onto the ground.
On this day the routine was going to change. Kodak figured he had the advantage, because he could see the ground from his place behind the door-gunner. Taz could only estimate when the descent ended and exiting began, with Taz leading 1st squad out of the door.
Not even Kodak realized it yet, but when he leaped from the helicopter first to take the pictures he had in his mind, he was leaping into the unknown that was always waiting for you in war. He caught Taz glancing at him once he moved out from behind the door-gunner and out of the chopper door.
He backed quickly toward the tail rotor of the helicopter, clicking pictures as he went. It was all he hoped it would be as Taz leaped into the scene, big rifle at the ready. It was all he imagined and more.
He heard some persistent crackling sounds that disturbed him. It was a little like a string of firecrackers popping off on the 4th of July. It was a lot like AK-47 fire.
Taz had followed him out the door as planned, but that’s where the plan went south. Immediately, as Kodak clicked off one picture after another of his hero, he realized what the sound was, once Taz opened up to spray the area with B.A.R. fire.
The Ambush
These were pictures he’d planned, without planning the reality of what it meant to land in unfriendly territory that at any given time was controlled by Charlie, who’d heard the helicopters and he knew where the LZ was even without a map.
Taz danced, the B.A.R. barked, and Kodak clicked his once in a lifetime pictures of it all. As he paused to look up toward the door, no one else emerged. The minute was up. 1st squad wasn’t on the ground. This was not going according to plan.
Within that minute Taz was waving his hand in a rotating fashion over his head. Kodak didn’t understand. No one else had come off the helicopter and Taz was signaling them to takeoff.
A streak of holes appeared on the windshield as Kodak looked into the helicopter for some explanation. More holes opened up near the tail section where Kodak stood. He backed away in response to it being way too close for his taste. Taz fired at a ferocious rate.
The door-gunner relayed the takeoff signal from Taz. Almost immediately the helicopter labored, spewing forth an incredibly dense black smoke, struggling to get airborne, banking hard left as its laborious motion took it out of sight over the trees, leaving Taz and Kodak behind.
The coughing and sputtering engine sounds grew more distant as the wounded chopper charted a course back toward friendly territory. The sound it made didn’t give much hope it would make it, but the chopper driver knew where to find an LZ if he needed one. It was likely he could get his helicopter to a safer place than the one he just left.
When the roll of film ran out, their transportation was reaching treetop level. Kodak backed as far back in the LZ as he could go before going into the jungle. Once Taz opened up, the AK-47 fire was reduced as the smoke began to belch out around them. No one could see anything for a couple of minutes after the helicopter got airborne.
Kodak didn’t feel fear, or the desperation in their circumstances. Attempting to move farther back as the smoke started to fade, Kodak took one step too far in the tall grass and found himself airborne as well. He collided with the ground, rolling the last ten or fifteen feet to the bottom of the embankment that elevated the LZ to an attractive and accessible height.
Kodak was completely disoriented by his tumble and more worried about his camera than his arms and legs. He’d forgotten about the firefight. He’d forgotten Taz as he dizzily wiped the lens with a lens cloth, reaching for a container to put the spent roll of film away before reloading.
The fire above him was loud and continuous as the thick smoke cleared and Taz was facing the enemy alone. As Kodak considered what to do next, Taz came tumbling down the same slope.
Taz came up cradling the B.A.R. and Kodak’s delight at seeing him was interrupted by Taz’s alarm. He wasn’t the least bit disoriented by his fall.
“Come on, come on. Go to the left. There’s a trail ahead of you. It ain’t going to be long before they figure out where we’ve gone,” he said in a loud hoarse whisper as Ak-47s continued firing above them.
Kodak double timed in the direction Taz indicated and he ran into the trail. Taz held his big rifle at the ready as he backed toward the same trail just a bit slower than Kodak.
“Come on, come on, they know this jungle better than we do.”
Taz took the lead and Kodak stayed right behind him as they ran into the jungle. After five minutes of double timing it, Taz slowed and moved into a clump of trees that formed a tight circle that would hide them. They squatted together, panting as Taz listened beyond the sounds of the jungle, listening for the chatter that would come with Charlie.
Their breathing slowed and a few more minutes passed. No one came and there was no chatter heard.
“You okay? I thought you were hit,” Taz said.
“No, I stumbled and fell down that hill trying to photograph you.”
“That was a dumb ass thing to do,” Taz said unhappily. “It just might have saved our butts. They obviously weren’t certain where we went or they went in another direction.”
“Yeah, seems that way now, but I wanted to get the shots. I discovered the hill by accident.”
“Yeah, well you’re lucky we both didn’t get shot, asshole. I could have gotten back on the helicopter but I couldn’t leave you armed with only a damn camera. What were you thinking?”
“Where are we?” Kodak asked.
Taz looked at the jungle around him and then he looked at the sky as he thought about the flight they’d just taken.
“Northeast of camp. I’d say twenty miles, maybe thirty. In this jungle we’d be a few days away by foot if Charlie wasn’t in the way. We’ve got to keep stopping and listening. We can get back in a few days. It won’t be easy. You’ve got to do what I tell you.”
“Don’t I always?” Kodak asked.
“Yeah, right, look around you. You knew better than to get off that helicopter first. I should have left you. Now we’ll be lucky to ever see the camp again. This ain’t going to be no picnic.”
“I’m sorry,” Kodak said, feeling very sorry that they were so far from camp with no safe passage back apparent.
“Too late for sorry. We’ll get back if you listen to me. What we got is what we got.”
“I’ll listen.”
“Those guys know we’re out here. They aren’t just going home to have tea. They’ll be combing the bush for us. They’ll put two and two together when they come to that drop off, if they haven’t figured it out already. Let’s keep moving. Stay close.”
“What about the helicopter?”
“If they make it back they’ll send out a search party, but we can’t wait around to see if they made it back. They’ll know that I’ll try to make it back to camp if I’m alive. They don’t know we’re alive. As hot as things have gotten, it might not happen in a day. We’ve got to move toward camp.”
They moved swiftly enough to put some distance between them and the LZ. Taz stopped to listen every few minutes and seemed more and more satisfied that the enemy wasn’t on their trail.
*****
The engine of the chopper choked on and off, leaving a deathly silence when it choked off. It sputtered when it chocked back on, finally catching to keep them in the air for another couple of minutes. The black smoke advertised their progress to anyone within ten miles of their position.
“Mayday. Mayday. Ferry three to base. We’re hit and aren’t going to get back. I’m two clicks from P9 in quadrant four. Mayday. Mayday to any friendly position. I’m two clicks from P9 in quadrant four. I’m going down there. Mayday.”
“Get flat on the floor, gentlemen,” the pilot yelled as the leaves and branches began brushing the bottom of the sputtering craft.
“Mayday. Mayday. Ferry three is going down. We are one click from P9, but we may not make it. Mayday to any friendly position. Ferry three going down at P9 in quadrant four.”
“We’re done gentlemen. Flat on the floor. We’re going down.”
The black smoke ceased just before the engine chugged twice and the rotors stopped rotating. The engine made a mild humming sound as branches and limbs of trees grabbed at the bottom of the doomed vehicle.
The jolt was substantial but made softer by the density of the grass and underbrush that surrounded P9, which they missed by no more than fifty feet. Had they made it all the way, their landing would have been even harder with nothing to cushion their fall.
1st squad was shaken but there were no serious injuries. They were all out of the chopper in a few minutes, checking themselves for damage. Sgt. Jacoby set a sentry on either end of the LZ. They made a lot of noise coming down and if Charlie was in the area he’d be on the scene shortly.
The co-pilot needed to be lifted out of his seat, having hurt his right ankle and knee. The door-gunner hadn’t moved, stayed in place during the hard landing, lifting his legs up onto the floor and at the last minute he pulled the harness tight around his chest, holding him close to the back of the co-pilot’s seat.
Only the co-pilot was unable to walk. The pilot wasn’t sure his message got out and they’d made it close to half way back to camp. The other squads would wait for the approved amount of time before heading to the LZ where they’d get back out if Charlie didn’t get in the way.
At that time 1st squad would be reported overdue and missing in action. Ferry three would be marked as overdue and missing in action back at the airbase. The choice was wait for rescue or wade into the bush and start making their way home.
The only officer on the scene was the helicopter pilot, who ordered Sgt. Jacoby and 1st squad to stand fast. He hadn’t given up on the radio and he would check the wiring and radio equipment to make certain it hadn’t been damaged by the enemy fire.
****
It was in Taz’s mind to move off into the jungle before going too much farther. Charlie knew the area and he’d be coming after them. Once he left the trail, he’d no longer be able to say for sure they were going in the right direction.
If they missed the camp by a few hundred yards, they might walk right back into Charlie’s world. Taz knew that their best hope was a rescue mission, but with so much activity in the area most of the missions were being prepared on a moment’s notice.
Most of the squads were in the field at the same time these days. That meant waiting until things cooled off before a search party was coming out to look for them. He couldn’t be sure in what direction the LZ was where they were separated from 1st squad. That meant going forward was the best option.
He’d keep listening and hoping Charlie hadn’t bothered chasing a couple of guys lost in the bush. If Charlie were on a mission and just stumbled onto the LZ as they were landing, they might not have time to look for them.
“You tired?” Taz asked, as they took a break after walking for most of an hour.
“No, not really, I’m still jacked up over the excitement from the landing party that was there to greet us.”
“Here, take two swallows from my canteen. I don’t know how long it will have to last, but we’ve got to keep from dehydrating.”
Kodak drank first and then Taz took two quick sips, securing the canteen back onto his belt.
“I don’t think they followed us. They might never even discover that fall off on the hill. They probably think they’ll be out here to get us in force before long.”
“I haven’t heard anything but birds and wild things,” Kodak said. “What about the other squads? Can’t we meet them?”
“I don’t know where the meeting point was. That’s Jacoby’s job. Our odds of finding them are no better than our odds of finding Charlie first. Heading toward the camp seems the smartest move.”
“How far have we come?”
“Oh, I’d say a mile or two. We’re not going in a straight line. Once we go off the trail it’ll get really slow. I’m not comfortable being out in the open.”
“What do we do?”
“Keep listening to the birds. They take off if there’s a large force in the area. I think we’re safe for the time being but I can’t know what might be between us and camp.”
“You worry too much. We’ll follow the trail and we’ll be home by tomorrow.”
“Yeah, ever the optimist. Keep your ears open and let me know if you hear anything, especially silence. We’ll be lucky to get back this week.”
Once again they followed the trail that meandered through the jungle according to where the easiest place to put it was. It had seen a lot of travel and that was both good and bad. Taz moved slower and watched and listened carefully.
Kodak listened for helicopters and wondered if they might have been smarter staying close to the LZ. Charlie wasn’t going to be landing any helicopters there and he thought 1st squad was on the way back to rescue them.
Taz began thinking about the sequence of events that had them alone in the bush. The color and density of the smoke coming out of the helicopter meant either the engine block had been hit or an oil line. Either one meant they weren’t going to make it back. He felt better about his odds than 1st squads. If the chopper went down it wouldn’t be pretty and that meant no one back at base knew there were two guys lost in the bush.
Kodak accepted that Taz knew better than he did and if he was going to be lost in the jungle there was no one he’d rather be lost with. Taz and that big rifle were a force to be reckoned with. It made him feel like he was in good hands.
The squad had begun joking about them being Mutt and Jeff, from a widely known newspaper cartoon. One of the characters was tall and the other was short. They were constant companions. Where Taz went you’d find Kodak and visa versa. As unlikely as their friendship was, both men felt they could trust and depend on the other.
It was both hot and humid, and while Kodak had adjusted to the climate, he didn’t like it. He didn’t like to sweat. A lot of times he’d get a rash and it made him miserable to do anything physical, like walking. The more he sweated, the more irritated the rash would become.
He was aware of no discomfort and he prayed not to be cursed in the middle of nowhere. He mostly wanted to be back in camp where the environment was much more friendly.
“You tired?” Taz asked.
“No, I’m fine,” Kodak said as they took a break just off the path.
Daylight was diminishing or the jungle was becoming denser. They’d stayed on the trail but moved slower than before, more cautiously.
“You’re becoming a regular soldier. When you get back I bet you’ll join up,” Taz kidded.
“No chance. I’m not going to get within a country mile of the army once I’m home.”
“You’re from the country?”
“No, I’m not from the country.”
“What’s a country mile then?”
“It’s the distance I’m keeping between me and the army once I get back to the world.
Taz smiled. Kodak even thought like a soldier, picking up the slang and adapting it to his speech. Kodak was an original and Taz was able to feel comfortable where ever he was when Kodak was around. This wasn’t the kind of place he’d want to be with anyone, but it was where they were.
“How long you going to stay on here,” Taz asked.
“I don’t know. I might wait for you to get your orders home. What have you got left, four months?”
“Three, one week, two days, and a wake up.”
“You count?” Kodak said alarmed. “I thought you weren’t suppose to count your time.”
“For the first six months you aren’t allowed to count. Once you get inside of six months, you know to the hour how long you’ve got left in-country. Guys say they don’t, but they do.”
“Come on,” Kodak said, standing back up. “I don’t want you slowing down on my account. I’m really not tired. I’m not even hungry. It’s been hours since we ate,” Kodak calculated. “This is the first time I haven’t been hungry, since I’ve been in country.”
“Heat and humidity. The adrenalin rush kills the appetite. I’m never all that hungry,” Taz said. “Once I get back to the world I’ll have plenty of time to be hungry and eat good old American food.”
Kodak waited for Taz to take the lead and fell in behind him. The sounds of the jungle were slowly changing. The noise from the treetops was joined by a humming and softer chorus of insects joining the jungle symphony as daylight gave out.
*****
Sgt. Jacoby stood when he heard the sound of the helicopter. He moved into the center of the LZ with the pilot of Ferry three. It was an attack helicopter that couldn’t take them home, but it buzzed low once it saw the men in the LZ.
They flew back and forth several times, waved, and surveyed the environment nearby, looking for any sign of Charlie. It was now a race before they’d find out if they’d be pulled out before dark. They’d been found and the pilot had been right to stay put near the crash scene.
It was another hour before a Huey dropped in from over the treetops. Setting his chopper in the middle of the LZ as 1st squad wasted no time getting inside. The co-pilot leaned on the pilot, until he was pulled inside with the pilot following him.
As the helicopter began to lift straight up, it backed away slowly as the attack bird came into view of the wide open doorway. As 1st squad watched, two rockets were fired into the wreckage of the crashed helicopter and it exploded in a ball of fire before the heavily armed chopper shot off toward the airbase with the helicopter right behind.
“That thing work?” Sgt. Jacoby asked the co-pilot, pointing to the radio.
“Have at it. We’re Mother Hubbard. Welcome aboard.”
Sgt. Jacoby reported in and gave the news about two of his men being lost in the bush after they were ambushed at the LZ where Ferry three was hit. The word came back that nothing could be done that day.
*****
“What was that,” Kodak said, stopping to listen closer.
“What was what?”
“I don’t know. An explosion maybe. I heard an explosion up in front off to the west.”
“You’re hearing things. It’s going to be dark soon. We need to find someplace that will give us some cover. Charlie can see in the dark.”
They walked for a long time and the jungle grew more dense and stayed that way. It was difficult for Taz to tell if they were still on the trail or if they’d been diverted onto some jungle illusion that looked like a trail. He said nothing to Kodak about his doubts. He wondered if the explosion was Charlie. The squads would all be back at camp by this hour and the choppers back at the airfield.
“We can call it a day. It’s getting really dark and I don’t want to walk into some Vietcong camp by accident. We’ll go further west tomorrow and maybe we’ll have some idea of where we are by what the sky looks like tonight.
Taz picked out a spot where he knew there’d be big palm leaves to make a soft place for them, behind a clump of trees and in heavy undergrowth. He prepared it as Kodak watched and when he was satisfied he reached into his pocket to bring out a couple large pieces of Sgt. Jacoby’s beef jerky.
“He know you steal his stuff?” Kodak asked, biting into the best tasting lump of dried carcass he’d ever tasted.
“I don’t take no chances. I been on more than one patrol that ended up being out all night. It’s better than chewing on a tree limb.”
“I’m not complaining,” Kodak said, sitting down next to the jungle expert.
They sat with their backs together, furnishing warmth and human contact in the jungle full of the unknown and the deadly. There was a comfort in the contact that offered an inner warmth. It wasn’t cold but it was a lot cooler than it had been all day.
Taz wasn’t sure that they were going in the right direction. It was his best guess and sitting still wasn’t an option for him.
*****
1st squad was back at camp fifteen minutes after they left the crash site. There were a few aches and pains but no one wanted to be on sick call. Hale and Washington were anxious for Jacoby to do something about Taz and Kodak. He told them to relax and let him take care of it. No one in the squad was able to rest easy.
It was Sgt. Jacoby’s squad and the idea of leaving a man behind in the bush left a bad taste in his mouth, even though it wasn’t his decision. He knew there was nothing they could do in the dark and anything they did do would tip off Charlie as to the area in which they were showing interest. They needed to go out in force and recover them in the same day.
Before his long overdue meal was finished, Sgt. Jacoby walked into headquarters, hat in hand.
“Captain, I want to take a rescue mission into the field at first light. My guys are out there and I don’t want Charlie reaching them first.”
“Sit down, Sergeant. As you know we’re up to our poop chutes in Charlie at the moment. We’ve had every available squad in the field for two days. Losing your squad today cost us a half dozen men. One squad short and that created the loss of nearly another entire squad.
“The enemy is attacking in more areas at one time than he’s ever attempted before. For months we’ve been hearing sightings and came up empty almost every time. He’s infiltrated in force and we’re up to our necks in Charlie.
“I’ll keep your request in mind, and believe me, it isn’t easy for me to say no, but I’m depending on 1st squad to protect camp tomorrow, when everyone will be in the field. We’ll pass the co-ordinates along to all the squads in the field so they know where your boys were last seen.
“There’s no way of knowing if they may cross paths with a unit in the field. The longer they’re out there the harder it will be to locate them. As hard as it is to take, that’s what we’ve got. I’ll approve a rescue mission as quick as we break Charlie’s hold on the areas north and east of the airfield. They give us the stand down and we’re on it.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Any casualties, Sergeant?”
“1st squads got a few scratches and strains but nothing that’ll keep us from going out. The co-pilot may have broken his ankle, but no one else had more than scratches.”
“It turned out as well as we could hope. Too bad about your boys. Charlie being there with a reception committee is pretty bad timing. It shows how much strength they’ve brought into the area. The protection of the airfield is our first priority.”
“Yes, sir.”
Sgt. Jacoby wasn’t surprised. He knew pressure needed to be applied. He’d return in the morning and apply more. The longer it took to get permission to go looking the more dangerous it became and the less likely it was that they’d get a good outcome.
The only positive aspect of it all was that it was Taz out there. Taz was a man who would know how to take care of himself in a pinch. If anyone could stay alive until they got a rescue mission approved, it was Taz.
Both Washington and Hale asked Sgt. Jacoby what he was doing to save their comrades. It wasn’t easy for Sgt. Jacoby to take the sergeant’s position and tell them they’d know when he knew and that was the end of it, but they all worried and there was little sleep in 1st squad that night.
*****
“Come on,” Taz said after thinking about it for a long time. “We’ll go this way.”
“Why that way? I never saw the sky last night. How do you know?”
“Instinct. We’ve got to get out of this undergrowth. The path is okay but it’s leading us deeper and deeper into the densest part of the jungle. We could end up in Laos or Cambodia if we aren’t careful.”
“What about the Ho Chi Minh Trail? Doesn’t that come before Laos?”
“You better hope it don’t come before we find our way home. We’ll be up to our necks in Viet Cong. We’re heading south. That’s about the best I can do for the moment.”
The jungle didn’t change much and they both knew they were hopelessly lost and getting deeper and deeper into the unknown land they’d discovered. There had been no sign of Charlie, which was one good thing.
“Come on,” Taz said, after they stopped for a few sips of water and more jerky after walking for several hours.
“You hungry?” Kodak asked.
“No, not really. Too much on my mind.”
“I’ve never gone this long without a meal. It’s been over a day since breakfast yesterday.”
“Was it yesterday? I thought it was two days.”
“It was yesterday. You never get hungry,” Kodak reminded him. “That jerky must swell in the water.”
“It’s the heat and humidity. You’ll be hungry soon enough. Quit thinking about it. There isn’t anything to eat out here.”
“Can I have one more sip of water?” Kodak asked.
“Yeah, one sip. We don’t want to run out.”
Taz handed the canteen to Kodak. He drank carefully, letting the cool liquid slid refreshingly over his tongue. He handed it back to Taz who immediately put it away.
They walked for hours. Twice they left the trail they were on and cut across the jungle in places that weren’t as dense. Always heading south, Taz feared he wouldn’t go far enough west to hit the base. He’d listen for aircraft and try to get some indication that way, only they hadn’t heard a plane or helicopter since they’d begun walking.
The Wait
Sgt. Jacoby went to headquarters the first thing next morning. 1st squad was officially under strength and would stay in camp to guard the perimeter. His request to be sent to look for Taz & Kodak was declined. He was dismissed by his captain, and the mess tent caught his eye as he contemplated what to do next to recover his guys. The longer they waited the less likely it was they would find anything.
The mess tent was nearly empty when he went for breakfast. The entire camp was empty, which he’d never seen before. There were always soldiers eating all day. The quiet was eerie to Jacoby.
“Hey, Sarge, what about we go into the airfield and notify Kodak’s people he’s MIA?”
“That’s the best idea I’ve had all day, Washington. I’ll get Temple to set up the rotation for guard duty and you and Hale can come with me. Make sure your weapons are loaded and your equipment is squared away. They’ve got enough guards stationed along that road to hold off a division. They must know something we don’t.”
It took an hour and a half to get a jeep, and Hale and Washington sat in the back with their M-16s propped up on their thighs as they were passed through three different checkpoints. The jeep stopped right in front of the journalists’ shop and Sgt. Jacoby stepped inside with his two bodyguards.
“What can I do for you today, Sarge? You looking to find out something about this here war?”
“Not exactly,” Sgt. Jacoby shot back. “I lost one of your guys. I figured his people ought to know.”
“Lost as in you got the boy killed?”
“Lost as in, we don’t know where the hell he is. It’s a long story. He sends pictures back to the States. Hey, Washington, what paper?”
“It’s in Sacramento. I don’t know the name. Tall, thin redheaded boy. We call him Kodak.”
“Paul,” Hale said. “His first name is Paul. I forgot his last name.”
“His name is Paul,” Sgt. Jacoby repeated.
“Yeah, I heard. I know the guy you’re talking about. I’ll need to look for his file to get a contact point on him.”
“Paul Anderson,” said a chubby middle aged man, sitting at the long table in the center of the office that stood in front of the credentials counter.”
“Yeah,” Hale said. “That’s it. Anderson.”
“You’ve lost Paul Anderson,” the middle age man repeated.
“Yeah, what’s it to you?” Jacoby asked without being impressed.
The middle age man handed over a copy of the Army Times as Hale and Washington walked to retrieve it.
“That’s Taz,” Washington said with some shock. “That’s the guy Kodak’s lost with.”
“I’ll be damn,” Hale said. “Front page picture of Taz on the front of the Army Times. Photo by Paul Anderson.”
“You lost both of them. That’s bad damn timing on your part. This picture is all over the wire services. Someone is going to want to know you’ve lost the army’s latest centerfold.”
“I’ll be a son-of-a-bitch,” Jacoby swore. “When the hell did he take this? Makes Taz look ten feet tall. Makes that rifle look longer than that. How did he get a shot looking straight up at Taz?”
“I’ve never seen it before,” Washington said. “Kodak’s been holding out on us. Why didn’t he say something about this?”
“Before you spend a lot of time calling his paper, you better call Westmorland and tell him you’ve misplaced his latest hero,” the sergeant behind the counter said, slapping the phone down next to Jacoby’s arm. “He gets nothing but bad news so this will be a piece of cake.”
“You got his number?” Jacoby asked.
“Yeah, dial 1. No, I don’t have his number. You better call someone. Is anyone doing anything to recover these guys?”
“No, they won’t let me go after them. We were ambushed. They got separated from us. Our chopper crashed. It took us most of the day to get back to the base. My captain said no rescue mission.”
“Damn, you got a movie script going here. Lost hero, crash chopper, cranky officers. I might want a shot at the script,’” the middle aged man at the correspondent’s table said.
“I don’t talk to general officers. I’m strictly a chain of command man. That’s how I keep my stripes. You better do the calling. He’s one of your guys and he took that picture. It makes him about as famous as Taz the way I see it,” Jacoby said.
“Award winning photographer lost in the Vietnamese jungles, surrounded by the Viet Cong, hungry, thirsty, and without hope,” the correspondent recounted it as he saw it. “It’s got everything.”
Jacoby glared at the mouthy middle-aged man. The drama wasn’t necessary.
“I wouldn’t want to be you, Sarge. I’d go find them boys PDQ. My paper is running this on the magazine section this weekend and I hear it is going on the Parade Magazine. In that case it’ll be in the Washington Post and probably most of the biggest papers will want it. You really want to find these boys if you can, or you’re going to have to get used to the rank of private.”
The counter man dealt Jacoby, Hale, and Washington each a copy of the Army Times from under the counter. They read the accompanying story as was credited to Kodak’s editor.
The phone rang and the counterman picked it up.
“Sgt. Carter. What’s your pleasure?” he answered. “Just a minute. Peacock.”
“Yeah, Peabody here. Never mind that. I got a scoop. Stop the presses and get it on the front page. Has the soldier’s picture gone on the cover of the Sunday magazine yet?” Peacock asked. “Well, put under it the caption, ‘have you seen this man? MIA’. No it ain’t no joke. I got the guy that lost him standing next to me right now. He’s lost out in the jungle with the guy that took the picture. Yeah, what are the odds?
“Hey, Sarge, how’d you lose him? Here, I’ve got my editor on the phone. I’m with the Times. Tell him what happened so we can get it right from the horse’s mouth. Here Sarge, talk to him.”
Jacoby didn’t like the idea of being a horse or being quoted, but he figured it might be the way to get a rescue mission in the bush fast.
“Yes, sir. Sgt. Jacoby. We were ambushed while on a mission. They got separated from our squad. I can’t tell you anymore. Someone is going to want a report on this now and they won’t want to read it on the front of the Times. They’re lost and I can’t get permission to go find them. Here’s your man.”
“So what did happen, Sarge,” the counterman asked.
“We landed and ended up right in the middle of an enemy ambush. Taz held them off long enough for the helicopter to get back into the air. We crashed ten clicks away. Taz and Kodak weren’t able to get back into the helicopter and stayed in the original LZ. If it hadn’t been for him, my squad would have been wiped out. He saved our bacon and they won’t let me go get him.”
“Got that?” Peabody said, after holding the phone up so his editor heard everything Sgt. Jacoby said.
“You list it as an anonymous source. You put my name on it and I’ll wait in the tall grass for your ass, Peabody,” Sgt. Jacoby said.
“Yeah, and if you don’t write it that way, Peabody, I got a feeling you’ll never get another call through to the States,” the counterman said.
“No problem. Good as done. You put him in for a medal, Sarge?” Peabody asked.
“I haven’t but I will. I want to get him back first.”
“Damn, that’ll get the ball moving. I’ll tell them. Get that on the front page. I’ll keep you up to date. I’m going to their camp later today,” Peabody said, hanging up the phone. “Cancel your call to Westmoreland. My editor is calling the owner of the paper. He knows the President. He’ll ask him to call the White House to inform them.”
“I’m impressed,” the counterman said. “In that case we’ll let the general sleep in.”
“Yeah, well, it seems Taz is the talk of the town and he wants him and Kodak brought back alive. He figured the White House might like to know his photograph is going around the world by tomorrow and they aren’t going to want to hear the report he was MIA and no one did anything about it.”
“The President is going to end up hearing about this?” Washington blurted. “Wait until Taz hears about this. Damn if he ain’t going to be famous.”
“You’re going to be famous too, Sarge,” the counterman said. “I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes. You better give a heads up to your CO. You don’t want him caught short when the President calls to ask what the hell he is doing.”
“Well, I got Taz and Kodak to worry about. I’ll worry about my ass once they’re safe. You got a few extra copies of this? I’ll want to make sure headquarters gets a copy.”
The counterman plopped down a stack of the papers and Jacoby tucked them under his arm as they headed back to camp.
*****
“How long have we been walking?” Kodak asked.
“I don’t know. A day, two days, it’s dark and we’ve been walking a long time. We need to get off the trail and get some sleep. No point in pushing our bodies too hard.”
“How much water is in your canteen?”
“It’s half full,” Taz said, flipping up the flap that kept it linked to his belt and he shook the canteen. “See, half full.”
“Are you going to drink?”
“Yeah, you go first two or three swallows. This has to last us.”
They both drank, moving away from the trail they’d been following. Taz used his bayonet to cut branches filled with the most leaves, arranging them behind some fallen trees to hide their position from the trail. It was late afternoon but the jungle blocked out the light from the overcast sky. They were both exhausted.
“The jerky is gone. We can look for some roots and berries,” Taz said.
“Do you know which can be eaten and which are poison?” Kodak asked.
“No, but if one gives me a belly ache I won’t eat that one again,” Taz explained.
“If it kills you?”
“I won’t eat it again.”
“I’ll pass, thank you. That last piece of jerky is still a knot in my stomach. I’ve been thinking of going on a diet.”
“A good wind would blow you away, Kodak.”
“Yeah, but we haven’t had much wind and I’ll eat if it starts blowing.”
The meaningless banter continued until both men dozed off. They slept soundly and without interruption. Neither had any sense of what time or what day it was.
“Let’s go,” Taz said, standing over Kodak.
It seemed like he’d just closed his eyes but the daylight in the treetops behind Taz told Kodak that it was morning. He stood and stretched, feeling stiff and out of sorts.
Kodak took the canteen when it was offered to him and he sipped two quick sips. He wanted more but he could tell by the feel by the weight the contents were slowly disappearing.
Taz took a quick sip, securing it back to his belt. Moving around the obstacles, they met up with the trail once again. Taz stood and listened before heading back in the direction he thought was taking them southwest, but the trail was like a snake.
Each mile seemed like the last and the idea they were making progress didn’t occur to them. They continued onward at the same modest pace with Taz stopping often to listen. Each time the trails split, Taz took a long time deciding which would keep them moving in the right direction before moving on. The jungle grown in close to the trial and they hoped it didn’t hold them in a death grip.
*****
The lieutenant stood at the tent flaps to call inside, “Sgt. Jacoby, front and center.”
“He’s checking the sentry stations,” Temple said, walking cautiously toward the officer.
“You are?”
“Corporal Temple, sir,” he offered while still curious.
“I don’t aim to spend my morning looking for your sergeant, Corporal. You go find him and tell him to come to the headquarters and make it fast. The old man is sitting on a burr and your sergeant needs to pull it out of his ass. You got that?”
“Yes, sir,” Temple said, never being all that impressed by 1st lieutenants. “We going after them?”
“I’d guess you are but what do I know?”
Lacing up his boots and getting his uniform straight before he ventured out, Temple sensed trouble was on the horizon and he wasn’t giving anyone a free shot at him. He carried his M-16 and headed in the direction where Sgt. Jacoby had disappeared.
“A lieutenant from headquarters came to get you. The commander is a bit off his game and seems to think you’re the guy to fix his swing.”
“Yeah, he didn’t want to talk to me earlier, so I made sure they took him a copy of the Army Times. I’ve been expecting a call,” Sgt. Jacoby said, brushing his uniform in a quick dust-off before straightening his shirt and hitching up his trousers to make a favorable appearance to get his ass chewed off for stepping over top of his commander’s head.
“Anything I should do?” Temple asked, as second in command of 1st squad.
“Get the guys ready to go out. Ammunition, grenades, and grab what’s left of the jerky and stash it in my pack. Get the guys to top off their tanks at the mess tent. It’s getting late and we might be out over night if what’s happening is what I think is happening.”
“Taz’s picture worked wonders. I hope it isn’t too late.”
“Yeah, a powerful persuader. All I did was speed up the process. Taz must have been born with a golden horseshoe up his ass. The entire world will know he is missing by tomorrow. I still don’t know what got into Kodak to have him jump out of the helicopter like that.”
Temple smiled politely and shook his head saying, “Now if we can get them back alive the story will have a happy ending. Taz’ll get a heroes welcome and we’ll live to fight another day.”
“You should be a writer, Corporal Temple. I can only hope we can bring them back and not be left with a mystery about what happened to them.”
“ Sarge, just remember, we could have all died in that helicopter crash. We didn’t. We’re destined to go bring ‘em back alive. You can’t write it any other way.”
“You are one damn optimist so and so, Temple. I hope to hell you’re onto something there. Make sure the guys eat.”
As Sgt. Jacoby stepped into the headquarters building, the corporal behind the desk pointed at the door marked C.O. The captain from the day before followed Jacoby with his eyes, as he knocked on the door twice and stepped inside.
The Colonel looked up from the papers on his desk and made Sgt. Jacoby wait for him to say what he had to say to him.
“I’ve just had a message forwarded to me from Command Headquarters. You may know Gen. Westmoreland. I don’t. The message was sent to him from the Military Officer at the White House. I don’t suppose since your conversation with my captain, you’ve had cause to talk to the President?”
“No, sir,” Sgt. Jacoby said, staying at attention.
“Did we per chance do a little officer shopping to get your way, Sergeant? You don’t know how much I hate sergeants who reach too far. Tell me this doesn’t have your fingerprints all over it?”
“It was not intentional, sir. It was a series of events that, once set in motion, couldn’t be controlled,” Sgt. Jacoby said in his most reverent voice, reserved for when he was in deep shit.
“Why don’t you let me be the judge of that? What was set in motion, Sergeant?” the colonel leaned back in his chair in anticipation of a long and convoluted answer.
“Paul Anderson, a photographer, who has been going out with my squad is missing with private Tazerski. I went into the base to see to it his people were notified. During my visit to the credentials unit for journalists, I was made aware that the missing private’s photo is on the front page of the Army Times.”
“You’re telling me that this missing private is featured in the Army Times? The captain brought me the paper but I didn’t make the connection with your missing men.”
“It’s a bit more complicated than that. The picture was taken by the missing photo-journalist, Paul Anderson…, sir,” Jacoby said as he caught the officer cringing. “We call him Kodak.”
The colonel leaned forward and ran his fingers through his thin graying hair. Stunned by the news he wasn’t ready with a quick comment. He leaned back in his chair again after a few minutes.
“They think this is important enough to send the new company at the airfield out here to search for them. You, Sgt. Jacoby, are going to lead a rescue mission for these men. You’ll meet with the visiting sergeants in my outer office at 3 p.m. this afternoon. You’ll formulate a plan according to where you last saw the missing duo and you’ll proceed to return to that area to retrieve them. Your transportation is waiting for orders,” the colonel paused as he ran the plan through his brain.
“Heaven help you if you don’t come up with two walking talking American males who can pass for these two. They will then be returned to the States to go on a press tour to tell a soldier’s tale about this nation’s struggle against communism, deep in the jungles of Vietnam. If you don’t bring them back safe and alive, guess who’ll be standing in front of those damn cameras out there to explain why the hell you left them out there in the first place?
“Why didn’t you clue the captain in on what was going on? Is that too much of a reach? I got my ass hanging out here and you can bet if I get mine shaved off, you’re going to live to regret it. Is it all coming clear to you, Sgt Jacoby?”
“Yes, sir. The captain made it clear he didn’t want me bothering you with this. I merely complied with his orders…, sir. No one knew about the picture, until I went in to report Kodak missing. It’s one of those things no one could foresee. It is a game changer however.”
The threat was intended and the colonel knew his ass alone would suffer the consequences as Sgt. Jacoby had covered his ass nicely. Facts were a difficult thing to refute and he would need to go further up the food chain to come up with a scapegoat.
“You’re dismissed. Send my captain in here. Don’t forget, at 3 p.m. the sergeants from the squads that will be aiding in the search will be in my outer office for a briefing. There’s no doubt that some officers will be dropping by to check on the progress. You should develop a comprehensive plan that will cover any and all contingencies. If you can pull this off, sergeant, I’ll be ever grateful. This story is moving faster than the astronauts.”
“Excuse me, sir. One more thing you should be aware of.”
“Go ahead. I’m all aflutter.”
“I’ve put the private in for the Bronze Star for valor. He saved 1st squad’s bacon in that LZ. Paperwork like that gets shuffled around at times and I wanted to let you know so that if someone asks you about his medal, you won’t get surprised again, sir.”
“Thank you, sergeant. I’ll expedite it under the circumstances. I’ll want to pin that medal on your private as quick as we can get him safely back to camp. If this soldier is so important why is he still a private?”
“Well, sir, he’s a bit of misfit, but in battle, I’d want him at my elbow before any five men I’ve come across in this man’s army…, sir.”
“Oh Great! Dismissed, sergeant. A misfit on the front of the Army Times,” the colonel muttered as Jacoby smiled at the predictable response.
Sgt. Jacoby executed his sharpest about-face and headed for the door, proud of how he got the medal on the top of the commander’s list of things to do. His first concern was getting the two guys back but he didn’t want a meeting with the colonel to go to waste.
At 3 p.m. Sgt. Jacoby met with the four sergeants from the visiting company. The three other sergeants who patrolled with Sgt. Jacoby asked to come along to expedite the briefing and to offer advice about the area and the mission.
It took five minutes to decide the visiting sergeants could furnish the manpower for routine patrol with far less risk than being in unfamiliar territory on a rescue mission. The squads most familiar with the area, as well as the men they were searching for, were far more motivated, and willing to put themselves in harm’s way to gain a satisfactory outcome.
Everyone agreed.
It was 5 p.m. by the time the complete plan to search the area in question was complete. Even with helicopters being on call, they couldn’t be on the ground in the search zone before evening shadows would be claiming the bush. The mission was scheduled for first light the following day.
It was the third day and the jungle was not a place where you wanted to be wandering around alone without food or water and on the morning of the third day it rained. It wasn’t your casual showers in the area but an all day deluge. The choppers remained on the ground and the rescue mission went on hold.
It was too early for the rainy season to begin but the rain complicated an already difficult mission. No one questioned the decision to wait. It would be far easier to go out without the weather being against the search party. Everyone kept their eye on the sky. The chopper pilots waited impatiently at base for a go order.
*****
“You okay?” Taz asked, as he looked back at Kodak who wore a palm leaf on his head to help divert the rain from drenching him and making him even more miserable.
“I’m hungry?” Kodak admitted in a forlorn revelation.
“We’ll find something to eat today,” Taz supposed.
“You said that yesterday.”
Kodak was drenched in the first few minutes and gave up the headgear. He was hungry, wet, cold, and thirsty. He couldn’t recall ever being this miserable before, and they were lost to boot.
Taz knew they weren’t making much progress and the likelihood they’d walk dead on into the enemy in low visibility and in their weakened condition was better than even. He moved off under the jungle canopy to get them out of the elements once he found a good spot.
The first clump of fallen trees gave him what he was looking for. Taz cut leaves to fashion in a shelter to keep them out of the rain. He walked back to the trail to make certain the shelter blended in with the fallen trees and undergrowth. It was more open then he liked but the shelter was well disguised. He was too exhausted to go further.
Once they were inside, Taz took out his canteen and they drank it dry. He set up a refilling system using a big leaf to provide a continual trickle into the container. Separating the cup from the canteen, he set the cup under a more rapidly flowing supply of fresh water. At least the downpour served one vital purpose.
The rugged shelter worked surprisingly well, and Taz and Kodak slept to the sound of the trickling rain on the leaves above them. They were exhausted after no food and with an ever dwindling water supply.
Kodak’s stomach growled and Taz dreamed of cold fresh beer on tap. They periodically emptied the fast filling cup, hydrating themselves between periods of sleep. When one drank the other woke up to take his share of water.
“It’s a lot like showering together,” Taz said, after he’d lain back down.
“Yeah, a lot like that,” Kodak said.
“Except for you not putting your arms around me. I think I like that part of it best.”
Kodak didn’t need to be told twice. He rolled over to wrap his arms around Taz. They slept soundly after that.
*****
Sgt. Jacoby stood with his arms stretched into the upper reaches of the tent, staring out of 1st squad’s quarters at the rain that was thwarting the rescue mission. His stomach was upset and even the pleasant cool day did nothing to ease his stress.
The longer Taz and Kodak were out there the more danger they were in. Sooner or later they would run into Charlie or Charlie would run into them. Either way was disaster for them and for him.
He allowed the helicopter to take off without them and their fate was on his conscience. The pilot was the ranking officer and he had taken responsibility to save as many soldiers as he could at the detriment of the two who were left behind. It was a sound decision but nonetheless troubling for Jacoby. The delay was agonizing.
1st squad used the comfortable temps to stay in their bunks and get as much rest as possible before they went into the bush. All of 1st squad was worried about their comrades, but there was no point in worrying about the weather.
By mid-afternoon the reporters started to show up, led by the middle-aged Peabody, the journalist at the credentials unit from the beginning of the second day. He’d claimed credit for making the missing soldier alert that attracted all the reporters in the vicinity to Jacoby’s company compound.
He watched one jeep and then two more, and two more followed in a period of fifteen minutes. The canvas tops were fixed in place to keep the journalists dry, but the puddles and the mud didn’t have much respect for anyone riding in jeeps.
By the time his soldiers were about ready to eat there were a dozen journalists with a half dozen photographers, both for still pictures and motion pictures in camp. They’d been directed to a corner of the mess tent, where they could fill up on coffee and good ole army chow, while getting the story.
Sgt. Jacoby walked up to the mess tent with the first group of his men to get something in his belly, thinking it might tamp down his stomach miseries. The idea the war was giving him ulcers crossed his mind, and if the war wasn’t the reporters sure as hell were.
There were interviews for all of 1st squad’s soldiers. They photographed Taz’s and Kodak’s bunks. The reporters scrawled their notes of despair haunting the readers with the doubts about them ever coming home to sleep in their bunks again, and now even the weather had turned against them.
The entire compound was turned into a traveling circus and it all was filmed by motion picture cameras. While still at the mess tent, trying to ignore the invasion, officers from both the ARVN, Vietnamese army, and the US command began their tour of the company, which the lost and heroic soldier had inhabited.
Both in plain English and in the Vietnamese version of English could be heard expressing optimism, once the weather broke and the helicopters were cleared to begin the mission. These were officers that had everything under control, although none had sought out Sgt. Jacoby or even glanced at him, much to his relief. They actually kept the press occupied.
He was relatively anonymous as Hale and Washington exaggerated stories about Taz, the fighting machine of 1st squad. It was Peabody that first saw Jacoby in the corner, eating with some of his soldiers, and where Peabody went, everyone else followed.
First the other reporters, then flash bulbs flashed, and cameras clicked as microphones appeared like six shooters unholstered and stuck in his face. He longed for his M-16 but had wisely left it back in quarters.
“Sgt. Jacoby will lead the mission to rescue his soldier as soon as the weather breaks,” Peabody announced to the semi-circle of dignitaries and reporters. “Tell us your plan, sergeant.”
“The plan is to go out and get them. There’s nothing else to say. We’re waiting on transportation. Once it’s cleared to fly, we’ll be out there searching for them.”
There were more questions, and cameras came from nowhere to take photos of his face. He decided it was time to get back to 1st squad’s quarters. Once he hit the rain the many visitors lost interest in him.
They didn’t need Sgt. Jacoby. They got stories galore from 2nd squad, 3rd squad, and 4th squad, once 1st squad lost interest in the turmoil. Everyone told of Taz, the lean mean fighting machine. His legend surpassed his deeds many times over. The bigger the tale the happier the reporters became and the young soldiers are more than happy to co-operate.
Taz had captured a company of Viet Cong on his own after lunch one afternoon. He’d taken an enemy headquarters with his B.A.R., blasting Charlie to kingdom come. He’d shot down a non-existent North Vietnamese Air Force, and he’d broken a siege at a firebase by just showing up with his big rifle.
It was more than any reporter could wish for. Rumors became fact. Even the reporters became invested in seeing this hero brought back alive. They even remembered that one of their own was out there, but they didn’t seem to be all that invested in just another journalist, when heroic stories abounded.
Besides, Kodak was with Taz, how much danger could he be in? Taz was likely to show up any time with Kodak at his side and the entire North Vietnamese Army in front of him, having surrendered from the mere mention of his name.
It didn’t take long for the soldiers to lose interest in advancing Taz’s legend in an effort to find out just how much the reporters would swallow, sensing they’d bite on anything. Being in a war zone had never been more fun for the soldiers.
Everyone wanted Taz and Kodak back in camp right now. Their images had traveled around the world, which brought chaos into that section of the war zone, along with any reporter in the theater.
“Who was responsible? Why were they left behind? What were you thinking? How long would it have taken to let them back on-board?”
This was classic 1st squad material. Taz held off a Vietnamese division as the wounded bird struggled to get 1st squad back to safety, crashing on the return trip. Only Taz came between certain disaster and the survival of his squad, sacrificing himself to save his buddies.
It was awesome. Jeeps tried to sneak away to get back to the base to file their stories before someone else beat them to it. First one jeep and then two more before the rest came speeding past 1st squad’s quarters, turning on two wheels as reporters waved twenty dollar bills in the faces of the aspiring future Grand National race car drivers.
The addition of the chaos to Sgt. Jacoby’s self-imposed pressure made the invasion an overwhelming intrusion into a perfectly normal war zone. He paced the back of the tent and gave orders that no more reporters were allowed past the front flaps. They could stand out in the rain and ask their silly questions if their concern was so great.
The later arrivals made the same inquiries. Who was in charge? Who left them behind? What was their problem? Were heads going to roll? Who, what, where, why, when? It had become non-stop and even 1st squad tired of the simple minded inquiries. Didn’t they read the papers? Everyone had the story and a whole lot more.
It was like the locust had settled into camp, and being trapped with them in the rain made it even worse. They did nothing but add to the desperation of the situation.
Sgt. Jacoby sent Washington for the area weather forecast over the next forty-eight hours and, while he was out, he had him stop at the mess tent to bring back some meat and bread so they could have sandwiches without the risk of getting cornered in the mess tent again.
The first horde of reporters was gone but the second wave started arriving. The sound of the jeeps made it obvious that achieving peace and quiet was out of the question.
The other members of 1st squad had no such aversion to the press. They were going to get their fifteen minutes of fame if they could, and what more could they ask than to have their name appear in their local papers as someone who contributed to the legend of the missing men.
Bring Them Back
Sgt. Jacoby had his map out. It looked old and weather beaten and faded from the sweat, heat, and humidity. He pointed at a spot and Washington, Hale, and the pilot from the aborted mission stood at his elbow.
The other helicopter pilots studied the position of the LZ and marked the closest LZ to that point. This would be where the squads would be set down in the jungle. They’d head south and west, marking the LZ that would allow runners to bring out messages to be sent back to base if they found something to report.
“This is it. I marked it before we came back. Can you get us in there?”
“I can get you in there. It’s a big jungle. It’s been awhile,” the pilot said as a matter of fact. “Your boy Taz smart enough to stay put and wait?”
“No, he’s not,” Jacoby answered honestly. “He’ll distance him self from Charlie if he can. But we left him and I’m going to bring him home. They couldn’t have made it far. He’s careful and they’ll move slow.”
“Too bad that camera guy picked that day to get out first,” the pilot lamented. “I keep running that through my head. What made him do that?”
“Kodak,” Hale objected. “He’s on the job. He was determined to catch us doing our job. He’s okay.”
“I’ll take your word for it, but if he hadn’t gotten off, Taz would have gotten back on at the first sign of an ambush,” the pilot assumed. “it’s why we’re here.”
“Taz hadn’t put down that fire and made Charlie put his head down, we’d still be in that LZ,” Washington explained to the pilot.
“You may be right. I didn’t think about that.”
“Taz wouldn’t get back on your helicopter so you could get it out of there. He gave himself up for us,” Hale said. “Kodak being out there was Kodak doing business.”
“War is never easy, gentlemen,” Jacoby said. “It is what it is and now we’re going to do what needs doing. I want 2nd squad put on the ground here, 3rd squad here, 4th squad here, we’ll all move toward here,” Sgt. Jacoby said, putting his pen down in the middle of where the four landing areas were. “That’s a ten mile radius in all directions. Can your pilots get it done?”
“Sure,” the two pilots agreed.
“It’s a go then. Let’s get moving,” Sgt. Jacoby said.
There was universal agreement among 1st squad. The pilot who lost his chopper the day of the ambush wanted some kind of redemption. He’d made the decision to get the chopper into the air at Taz’s signal. He didn’t regret it but the outcome stuck in his craw. He wanted the men he left behind rescued as badly as Jacoby and his squad did.
*****
Taz woke up slowly, listening for the rain. It wasn’t the rain that alarmed him. Rolling over carefully he put his hand over Kodak’s mouth.
Kodak’s eyes flashed opened wide.
“Shhhh!” Taz whispered in his ear. “Vietnamese are right next to us.”
Kodak had known he’d wake up to a better day, once he got enough to drink and caught up on his sleep. They’d gone from the frying pan into the fire and his heart pounded in his chest as the sound of Vietnamese came in a constant chatter.
Taz eased himself to a place where he could create a small opening in their shelter. There, ten feet away, were a dozen soldiers. Their AK-47s were leaning against any suitable surface as they chatted around several small fires that heated water and something that looked like small ceramic pots on small frames with fire licking at the bottom.
“I smell food,” Kodak said.
“Yeah, well, there isn’t anything I can do about it. They won’t stay here all day. It’s barely daylight,” Taz explained.
“I’m hungry,” Kodak complained.
“You want to surrender? They might feed us before they shoot us.”
“Very funny,” Kodak whispered, not remembering ever going three days without a meal.
The chatter kept going as the talk went back and forth around the circle of soldiers. One man stood eating out of a bowl he filled from one of the small pots. Other soldiers ate from their own bowls as the conversation slowed.
Taz leaned back and listened to the rhythm of their words. It was almost lyrical. They were talking about home, wives, children, and things Taz knew little about. Of course he didn’t understand a word but he supposed he did.
It was a few minutes later one of the soldiers came excitedly from outside the clearing. Everyone stopped and listened to his alarm. Bowls of food were set aside as they all stood, grabbing their weapons, heading off into the direction the first man came from.
“Shit,” Taz said. “No time like the present to get shot.”
With that he separated the leaves he’d been peeking through and crawled on his belly with his canteen cup in his hand. He moved up to the closest log, peeked over top and then slithered around it, moving up to one of the small pots, he knocked it over and the rice inside came spilling out on the ground. In one quick scoop he filled the canteen cup, grabbing a grenade as he passed the log, slithering back to safety and handing Kodak a fresh cup full of Vietnamese rice.
He carefully slid the leaves back in place.
“You asshole,” Kodak whispered. “What if you got caught?”
“You’d have had to rescue me, I guess.”
“That isn’t funny, Taz.”
“Eat,” Taz said watching Kodak’s polite fingers dig into the overheated rice.
Kodak smiled and forced more rice into his mouth before he chewed. It was too hot. It was too good. It was glorious. He didn’t realize he liked rice so much.
“You can say what you want but they sure do know their way around rice,” Taz offered, dipping his fingers in for a scoop.
As the cup of rice slowly dwindled the soldiers came back. There was chatter and something that sounded like anger as the owner of the pot righted it, while looking for the animal or creature that had dumped over his meal.
The other soldiers laughed and made fun of him losing a portion of his rice. Someone else offered him some of their rice and they laughed more about the theft, never suspecting the enemy was only a few feet away.
As the Vietnamese prepared to leave, one of the soldiers became agitated. He looked at his pack and under everything. They were a little more alarmed by what else was missing. The soldier had misplaced, dropped, or managed to lose a grenade. It was the same grenade Taz had brought back with the rice.
As the soldier was looking behind the log and coming closer to the hideout, one of the other soldiers called to him. He sounded angry and didn’t want to come, but the other men began leaving and he fell into formation with them, leaving the mystery unsolved.
“We need to stay put for awhile. No telling how many groups of soldiers may be nearby. We’re safe here and I’m full as a tick. Kick back and rest a while and if no one else comes along, we’ll get moving.”
The rains had ended during the night and they drank from the canteen to wash down the tasty rice. Both of them smiled and began to nap before the sun had shown through into the bottom of the jungle.
*****
The helicopter carrying 1st squad leaped into the air turning northeast as it raced along the treetops. The first rays of sunlight had begun to shine on the ground at camp. The helicopter windshield captured the brilliant light of the sun easing itself up above the horizon.
Hale and Washington sat across from each other, not optimistic about bringing their friends home. The night before they kept getting up to look outside, thinking it was time they had made it back on foot if they could.
Both Hale and Washington had preceded Kodak as nanny to Taz. This meant they steered him clear of trouble and by-the-book officers. This gave them a responsibility they still felt for Taz as well as sharing a comradeship with Kodak as latest in a line of babysitters to the admirable, unorthodox soldier.
They were going to begin their search from the place where they’d left them. The first order of business was to look for blood or any evidence that their guys were wounded or worse. This would dictate whether they were on a rescue or a recovery mission. The last view anyone got of the pair was of Taz firing the B.A.R. and Kodak shooting pictures of Taz shooting the B.A.R.
Once they were sure Taz and Kodak left the LZ under their own power, the search would have a direction, south by southwest with the other squads landing in LZs at five mile intervals. They’d all move toward the center of the zone, and if they hadn’t found the two men by the time they’d met up, they’d push south toward the camp.
The company was exposing themselves in a way they’d never done before. With increasing sightings of Charlie, closer and closer to the wire at camp, the likelihood of a firefight or two or even more was to be expected. Each squad would be listening for any such fire so that they could aid any squad under attack.
The chopper flashed over the search area, heading for the proper LZ. It was possible they’d fly right over top of the missing pair, which would alert them that troops were in the area. This might encourage them to move into an accessible area.
“There. That’s it. I remember it,” the pilot yelled, pointing down as Jacoby looked at the bare spot carved out among the trees.
The helicopter landed, once making certain there was no reception committee this time.
The pilot cut the engines, after alerting the base that they were on the ground. 1st squad filed out and stood with rifles at the ready as Jacoby looked at the terrain. The jungle ran right up to the LZ without thinning whatsoever.
The spot where the enemy soldiers had been waiting for them was easy to find. There was a small place where they’d been cooking and there was a bag of rice and some seasonings left behind.
“Okay, what we want to do is look for any signs of our guys being wounded. Taz was fading back toward Kodak at the rear of the LZ the final time I had a visual. That means we give the most attention to the rear portion of the LZ leading away from the incoming fire. We want to cover every inch of ground. Look for anything that will confirm our guys were here.”
Most anything they might find would be bad news. Neither Taz nor Kodak was likely to willingly leave any of their gear behind. The area where Charlie was waiting was less than a couple of dozen yards from where Taz stood firing at them. Taz putting down fire meant they might keep their heads down for long enough for them to reach the jungle, at which time the search became far more complicated.
It was all reconstructed as the men spoke of the smoke, the fire, and the position of the players before moving out to where Kodak was last seen.
“Hey, Sarge, come look over here,” Thompson said, looking at the falloff that was only visible from where he stood.
Washington and Hale were immediately scrambling down the slope, knowing this was the only escape route. They crossed back and forth to cover the entire area before moving on.
The area where Charlie was camping when the helicopter landed was also on a slope falling off in the opposite direction, allowing them to fire up at the helicopter without being seen from the ground. Taz knew where the fire was coming from but he couldn’t see them or get a fix on them to cut them down. They likewise didn’t have a clear shot at him.
Parts of the jungle that snuggled up to the LZ blocked the view at ground level, which was hopeful. It was difficult to get down from the top except in the one almost hidden spot that Thompson located. The grass was high and only standing right above it gave you a view of the jungle breaking away sharply.
Jacoby stood above the slope and watched Hale and Washington inspect the grass and brush that showed some signs of being only slightly disturbed with broken branches consistent with someone moving down through there but not enough to account for a large number going that way. If they went this way Charlie didn’t follow.
“ Sarge,” Washington yelled, picking something up and holding it high in the air.
“Shit!” Jacoby screeched in an uncharacteristic display of emotion.
Washington scampered up the hill with his prize and Hale followed.
“How many did he have with him?” Jacoby asked.
“One in the rifle one in his pocket. We’d just been out and I hadn’t filled the empties. I’ve got two on me right now. Hale has two.”
Jacoby looked over Washington’s head at the jungle as if he was hoping to see something off in the distance.
“He’s out there and he’s out of ammunition. It’ll be a miracle if we find them alive.”
Washington handed the clip to Jacoby, who pocketed it. It was obvious they fell down the hill and that’s how the clip got out of Taz’s pocket. It was Taz’s style to empty the first clip as quick as he could to overwhelm the enemy. Once 1st squad was picking up the slack, he reloaded.
The pilot clicked on the ignition and wound up the chopper, sending a message out to the other units that they’d found evidence that Taz and Kodak were in the bush, heading southwest toward the base, and 1st squad was going to attempt to follow their trail.
*****
“Why didn’t you shoot those guys this morning? You could have blown them all away before they knew what hit them. It’s not like you to just leave well-enough alone.”
“How many other rifle squads do you think Charlie has out here?” Taz asked.
“I don’t know. A few dozen. What’s with Charlie’s grenade? You collecting souvenirs? You don’t carry grenades. You hate being weighed down.”
“No, but I don’t know what we might run into out here, babe. I figure I want to have a little extra firepower.”
“That’s all well and good, but do you know where the hell we’re going?”
“See the sun?”
“How can I miss it. It’s been baking my brain since we got going.”
“Where does it shine in the morning back at camp?”
“It shines in the back of our tent on the card table.”
“We keep walking in this direction we’ll end up walking right into that card table,” Taz smiled confidently.
“How far have we come?” Kodak asked.
“Not nearly far enough. That rice won’t last long and we’re not even putting a dent in the miles we’ve got to go yet. We’ve made maybe five or six miles.”
“We’ve been walking forever,”
“No, we walked about a half mile yesterday. We walked maybe four or five miles on day two. We were in really dense jungle and we were barely going south at all. We only went a couple of miles that first day. We’re maybe a mile in today. Put it all together and we’ve got three times that far to go.”
“We’ve walked a ways today,” Kodak figured.
“A mile at least.”
“We’ve been out here a week and we’ve walked five miles?” Kodak objected to this distance. “Three days. Five miles. We spent a day and a half in a shelter. That was day three. This is day five, Taz.”
“Why are you so negative all of a sudden. What difference does it make how many days? We got plenty far enough to go.”
“I know.”
“I don’t want you thinking it won’t take a hell of a lot more walking than we’ve done. We’re in the shit, Kodak. We’ve got to be way careful,” Taz said, stopping in mid-stride as if something just stung him. “Let’s move back off here right now. Back in the shadows. Just move. Don’t even breathe.”
Taz pushed Kodak back ten feet and then they stood in a clump of growth that licked up the single tree trunk. Kodak listened but he didn’t move. He breathed ever so quietly. Taz’s back was pressed into Kodak in an uncomfortable pose. Kodak didn’t dare move.
As he was about to ask Taz what they were doing, he heard it, the singing language that Charlie used when he was relaxed. They were taunting one of their own and they laughed. There were protests, more laughter, and the sound of metal and equipment clanking together nearby.
As the eight men passed, one of the men in the front tossed something in the air. The last man in line went scurrying for whatever was tossed back in his direction. The object landed three feet from Taz’s boots. They weren’t hidden by the undergrowth.
The enemy soldier saw the boot laces and as he picked up the metal object he was after, he looked up past Taz’s rifle into Taz’s face. The dark eyes were looking right back into his eyes, and as the soldier’s life flashed before his eyes, he watched Taz move his trigger finger into place on the B.A.R. The man was hypnotized by the specter.
Some one yelled, other soldiers laughed, the enemy soldier swallowed very, very hard as Taz moved the B.A.R. in a motion that told the soldier he should walk away. Backing up toward the path the soldier had turned totally. He couldn’t be sure why he was still alive.
The yelling that was becoming further away began again and the soldier scurried out of sight, going in the direction of his comrades.
Taz let out a big sigh and then he spoke very fast.
“Move. Move. Go back into the jungle. Come on. That asshole might be telling his buddies right now. He won’t remember where we were. Move. Move,” Taz said, pushing the B.A.R. against Kodak’s back as they passed more clumps of trees and finally dropped down in a natural depression that put them below the level of the jungle floor.
They were both breathing hard and at the same time listening to the sounds around them. They’d moved fifty yards off the trail they were on and the likelihood of that squad finding them was slim. Odds were that soldier saw death and had no desire to come back to take another look. He should have kept his mouth shut in Taz’s mind, but it was difficult to know what a man might do at any given time under such circumstances.
Kodak looked at the B.A.R. lying between them and he looked at Taz holding the stolen grenade. There was something wrong with what he’d witnessed. For the second time Taz could have easily wiped out the soldiers that had come in contact with them and for the second time he’d given them a pass.
“You okay?” Kodak asked without knowing why.
“Yeah, how are you?”
“Fine, but I can’t figure you out. You usually are willing to shoot at anything that moves. You’ve become a pacifist? If you’re trying to impress me you did that the first time I saw you in action. This I’m not so sure about.”
“No, not hardly. We don’t know how long we’re going to be out here. I have no desire to fight all the Vietnamese in Vietnam. We need to keep a low profile. We start leaving bodies everywhere, someone’s going to notice.”
“You’re serious,” Kodak said, thinking it over and trying to subscribe to it.
“Have I ever lied to you?” Taz said, looking into Kodak’s eyes and leaving him feeling a bit weakened.
“Why didn’t that guy try to shoot us, or yell for his friends?”
“He didn’t have the feeling this was a good day to die.”
“You could have shot him. How’d he know you wouldn’t?”
“He was still alive after he saw me standing there staring at him. If I was going to shoot him he knew he’d have already been dead. It took him a minute to process it.”
“You’re one cool customer. I don’t know anymore. I thought I understood what we were doing all this time. Now I’m not so sure. I guess I’m tired. Can’t you call for a helicopter to come get us now?”
“Shit, why didn’t I think of that. I bet that squad of Charlies had a radio with them. Why didn’t I stop them and ask if I could call my buddies to come get us?”
“Very funny. We’ll never get back at this rate,” Kodak said wearily.
“If we don’t watch it we’ll never get back at any rate. I heard a helicopter this morning,” Taz revealed.
“You did? Where?” Kodak said, seeming to be buoyed by the news.
Taz pointed up at the sky.
“Very funny. It could have been going anywhere. Let’s go. We can’t stand around here all day.”
“This is our grid. It’s one of ours. It flew past, heading to where we’d come from. It rained yesterday. They couldn’t get in the air. They might be looking for us.”
“What do we do?”
“Keep doing what we’ve been doing. They are heavily armed and can cover ground a lot faster than we can. We need to keep moving.”
Taz was telling the truth about the helicopter. He had heard it passing to the west not far from the shelter where they’d spent the night. Taz saved it for a time when Kodak needed something to keep him moving.
The thing Taz didn’t mention was what happened if the chopper crashed and there were no survivors. No one would know they were out there. It had crossed his mind more than once. Jacoby wasn’t the kind of sergeant who would leave a soldier behind. It was war and sergeants like Jacoby didn’t always get their way.
It was hard to know the sequence of events that might surround them being missing. The weather was a factor. The unknowns were why Taz wanted to keep moving.
*****
There was a kind of desperation in the pace 1st squad employed to close the distance between them and the other squads in the field. Having an unarmed soldier in the midst of the enemy didn’t agree with any of them, even the guys who didn’t know Taz or Kodak that well. Taz with a full clip in the bush had a better than even chance of coming out alive. Taz in the bush and out of ammunition was a sitting duck.
As 1st squad moved southwest in a hurry, 2nd squad was coming from the west and 3rd squad was moving in from the south, closing in on a spot they’d circled on their maps. Jacoby was almost certain the two men were within the search area.
Once the other three squads met them, if the men hadn’t been found, the three squads would spread out and move southwest toward the base. The jungle was dense and it was possible to miss a couple of bodies off the trail, but that wasn’t the scenario Jacoby had in mind.
*****
Taz felt secure that he was staying as close to the middle of the area that would be leading them in the direction of camp. He felt this was the best route, even if no one came after them. It was taking them longer to make progress, but the zone he was traveling in would be predictable and he was now using a trail 1st squad had previously used on missions. He recognized it a few clicks back, but he hadn’t told Kodak yet, saving it to perk him up if he got depressed again.
The jungle easily hid the rescue that was underway. They stopped to rest each hour, moving off into the rich shade and drinking from the canteen. The rice had worn off by early afternoon and both of them were feeling the weakness coming back into their legs.
The water kept their stomachs quiet for a while. It wasn’t food but it was something,and having drunk plenty of water in the past twenty-four hours meant the deficit wasn’t as acute yet.
“I’m really tired,” Kodak said, leaning back on a fallen tree trunk.
“Yeah, me too. We’re on a trail I recognize. We’re going in the right direction.”
“There was some doubt?” Kodak snapped.
“We’re in the jungle. There’s always doubt. We were on this trail a couple of times the month before you showed up. I recognized some of the cleared spots from before. We need to make a little more distance today. Maybe we’ll find some roots and berries tonight.”
“Yeah, maybe,” Kodak said, pushing himself back up.
*****
It was Temple who stood astride the trail as Jacoby came to him. Temple pointed and turned his ear toward the west. It took a minute for Jacoby to hear it.
“Shit, it’s a firefight?” Jacoby said.
“I think so. There’s a cross trail less than a click up ahead. We can hit that and make our way west.”
1st squad tightened up as they moved even faster to the trail Temple knew to take. Once they took turned toward the firefight the sound was more definite. It was no more than five minutes before they too were engaged by a small force that was caught flatfooted by their approach. In another minute or two the firing ceased and peace returned to the jungle.
*****
“You hear that?” Kodak said, turning his head to face behind them.
“I hear it.”
“Those are M-16s,” Kodak observed.
“Yes, they are,” Taz smiled. “Those are our guys.”
“It’s our guys,” Kodak blurted.
They walked in the direction of where they’d heard the fire. Taz was in no hurry. He moved cautiously and kept Kodak behind him.
Kodak wanted to run. He wanted to shout, but he sensed he shouldn’t. He let Taz lead and the smell indicated they were nearing the battlefield. The shouts in English were welcome. Not only that the voices were familiar. How totally exciting those voices were.
Seeing Taz and Kodak walking toward them out of the drifting smoke was like seeing an apparition. At first the men weren’t sure, but everyone was almost immediately aware of the lost soldiers being found.
The uniqueness of the gathering was that Taz was at the center of 1st squad. Guys patted him and Kodak reminded them how much they were missed. Sgt. Jacoby was the most unexpected greeter, hugging Taz like a son he hadn’t seen in too long.
1st squad forgot they’d just been in battle. 3rd squad watched before joining the recovery celebration. A 3rd squad runner was sent to the closest LZ to announce the recovery of the pair they’d gone in search of. Guys wanted to hear how the missing pair had survived out in the bush looking none the worse for wear.
Neither Taz or Kodak had come to appreciate the joy of shaving every day as of yet, so their boyish faces appeared fresh. Their clothes had gone from damp to drip dry in the few hours that morning. They had survived remarkably well without explaining themselves.
“Hey, dude, you need a refill?” Washington asked.
“Here,” Jacoby said. “Take the one you lost out there. You ought to save that as a souvenir. You’re lucky to be alive.”
Immediately Taz ejected the empty clip from the B.A.R. as Kodak watched the operation, unaware as of yet what he was watching, but he was thinking about it.
Washington reached in his pocket to withdraw the clip he’d loaded for the B.A.R. while Taz was missing. He often kept the extra clips loaded in advance but he’d grown slack in this chore, but over the past two days he’d loaded all the clips from the crate of ammunition Sgt. Jacoby kept under his bunk.
“When did you know?” Washington asked, handing Taz the extra clip for his pocket.
“First time I put my hand in my pocket,” Taz took a long breath, realizing the harrowing nightmare was over and somehow he’d survived with Kodak never suspecting how desperate things were.
Taz slid the extra clip in and out of his sleeveless fatigue jacket pocket, thinking of how he might secure it so he never lost his extra clip again. He thought of strapping extra clips to his legs, but he knew, like the weight in his pocket, he lost mobility by adding that extra weight. It wouldn’t stop him from keeping two extra clips here after.
The B.A.R. was built to fit in his arms and any weight was worth the feeling of confidence it gave him, but keeping ammunition for it on hand and loading the clips created a lot of extra work. It was work the other squad members didn’t mind doing to keep Taz happy and in ammo. Many of the men of 1st squad regarded Taz as their guardian angel, and there was no length they wouldn’t go through to keep him ready to rock and roll.
“You were out of ammunition,” Kodak said and understood at the same time.
“Yep,” Taz said confidently.
“We were almost in an enemy camp and we were unarmed,” Kodak asked Taz.
“I noticed,” Taz said, not wanting to discuss it.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Kodak needed to know.
“One of us being scared shitless was enough,” Taz said, still not wanting to talk about it.
No one knew the entire tale. Taz wasn’t going to talk about it and Kodak couldn’t. This was for the book. Kodak would save the story of being lost in the jungles of Vietnam for a time when he wanted to talk about it. The knowledge of how much more desperate their situation was than he thought was hard on him. He felt close to and fond of Taz without feeling like he knew him at all. Taz had known it all and never let on.
4th squad met up with the rest of the company and everyone celebrated again. It was already getting old for Taz, and so Kodak was surrounded, patted, and welcomed home, even if he wasn’t in this man’s army.
It was only the beginning. Taz could face the enemy and never blink, but facing two dozen journalists and even more cameras, once they landed at camp, was more than he could take.
Neither Taz nor Kodak knew about the photograph that had traveled around the world. No one bothered to mention it, or the chaos that would surround them from that day forward. They were so happy to have them back, 1st squad forgot about the circus.
It was good to have Taz back where he belonged. The company kept him to themselves for the hour before the helicopters came to take them all home. 1st squad took the first helicopter out this time. Taz didn’t need to stand guard or watch over his squad.
No one thought of what might come out of their successful recovery. Sgt. Jacoby knew but didn’t say what was planned for the missing heroic soldier and his photographer. Sgt. Jacoby knew this was not how his best warrior would want to leave 1st squad, but he’d get no say in the matter, just like Taz wouldn’t.
Being blinded by the flashbulbs was Taz’s first hint that things had changed. He stood down from the helicopter first, as usual. He cradled the big rifle.
His eyes were the size of saucers. The people surrounding the LZ blocked any possible escape route. He stood as the cameras clicked and the reporters yelled at him. The helicopter rotors still turned and the noise made hearing impossible. Taz had stepped out of a primitive world of war and into the civilized world’s need to know. He preferred the war.
Taz’s personality was greatly influenced by his time in Vietnam. He had no real identity back home, never feeling he had a home. He had found a home with 1st squad, because of what he brought to a battle. Becoming a perfect warrior in war was a certain path to acceptance. The rest of his life was a train wreck, but this was Vietnam and people noticed and appreciated what he did. He’d never given a minutes thought to what he’d become once he went home, but all warriors went home sooner or later.
A prototype for a Spartan or Alexander, also perfect warriors, but they never went home. Being a perfect zero when he arrived in-country, he would leave the perfect hero. He feared nothing and didn’t know the word retreat, except in that moment. The camp had been overrun and the odds were against him. He kept his trigger finger at the ready and the B.A.R. in the proper position.
A jeep was employed to deliver Taz, Kodak, and Sgt. Jacoby at the mess tent. The mess tent was pandemonium, but with the usual ravenous young soldiers seeking nourishment. The frisky journalists applauded, yelled questions, took pictures, and in general acted like children with lousy manners.
Kodak immediately suspected they’d somehow become the story, but he couldn’t figure out why. He’d come to Vietnam to see what a war was. He sought to tell a story with pictures. After months and months on the job, he accepted what he did, he first did for 1st squad. He loved and found a family in the men who fought the war.
Sgt. Jacoby knew this was more than a recovery and a welcome home. It was goodbye. The heart of his squad was going home. He was both happy and quite angry about it all. He wasn’t talking, because his men deserved this moment in the sun without knowing the sun was setting on their squad. It would never be the same without Taz and Kodak.
It was the merging of events creating its own story. It was what Sgt. Jacoby had told his colonel, it was a small event that got out of control. At first a squad affair, made into a camp concern before becoming an army mission, because of a picture that went around the world the day Sgt. Jacoby reported that the brand new US Army cover boy was missing.
A life and death epic created out of a combination of minor events not unusual in a war zone. How does anyone know what will catch the eye of the world? For some reason a soldier, like a million other soldiers, has a picture taken, and months later someone somewhere decides to publish it in a way that alters everyone’s view of war. Luck, chance, or fate coming to the rescue of the lost.
A few dozen men yelling questions after you’ve been lost in a jungle for days might seem like a logical sequence of events, except it wasn’t. Neither Taz nor Kodak could take it all in. Kodak was as big a part of the story as Taz by this point, which made no sense to Kodak, a mere photographer. He was there documenting the soldiers who were fighting the war. He wasn’t part of the story, or shouldn’t be.
Without Kodak, Taz may have assumed his best fighting pose and simply eliminated the annoyance, but with Kodak taking over the interview, Taz simply stood behind him so he couldn’t see the agitated mass of men, who ruined his idea of a quiet meal and some bunk time.
Kodak was still confused but better adapted to the ways of the civilized world than the soldiers there. Even as young and inexperienced as he was, he took upon himself to speak up for 1st squad.
“You’ll need to give us a few minutes to decompress. We’ve, Taz and I, have been in the bush for a few days. Last night we slept with Charlie as neighbors. This is somewhat of a shock. I don’t suppose we can do this tomorrow? We’re tired and hungry.”
“You’re Paul Anderson,” an astute reporter surmised.
“I’m Kodak,” Kodak said.
“Charlie who were you sleeping with? He one of the soldiers? There was another soldier? No one said anything about another soldier.”
“A Vietnamese rifle squad,” Kodak explained, as guys countered, recountered, and corrected the questions.
The buzz ended the first press conference. Washington, Hale, and Temple had already cleared the way for Taz and Kodak to exit out of sight of the yelling journalists, objecting and wanting more.
“They’ve been without food and water for days. They’ve got to rest, relax, and clean up. We’ll have to do this again soon,” Sgt. Jacoby said. “That’s all for today. Go file your stories. We brought them back alive.”
A man from 2nd squad and another from 3rd squad set up a perimeter to guard the three exposed sides of 1st squad’s quarters. Reporters were discouraged from approaching. There were platters of food delivered via an alternate route to 1st squad as Taz and Kodak fell into familiar confines. It didn’t even matter that they were in Vietnam, but the food mattered, the comrades mattered, and the reunion was private and kept that way.
This turn of events sprung a leak in the mess tent as the reporters, photographers, officers, and dignitaries of all stripes and descriptions sped off to report to the outside world and the people who needed to be alerted to the happy ending to the story,
It was a reunion and a farewell party. This hadn’t been revealed and Sgt. Jacoby didn’t feel comfortable telling either Taz or Kodak that they’d soon be departing, returning to the world. Taz and Kodak hadn’t figured it out and the men of 1st squad didn’t know, so everyone laughed, enjoyed life, and watched the returning heroes who were shown the picture that had made both of them famous.
New Duty
Coming out to face the press before their departure, Kodak took the lead. Taz stood watch, cradling the big rifle, ready to drive back the unruly invaders to the camp mess tent. Kodak had offered to tell the tale and Taz had nodded approval. It was a done deal before they faced the questions that everyone wanted answered.
“War is easy and relatively simple. There isn’t a lot to remember. You fight to stay alive. You fight to keep your buddies alive. Keeping his buddies alive, even when he didn’t particularly care for their company in camp, or anyone’s company for that matter, gave Taz a purpose, no matter how noble or obscene. It’s difficult to say if he thinks these precise thoughts. I see him as hating no one, but he is a product of his training.”
Kodak paused as he remembered the things Taz told him, wanting to explain Taz without revealing confidences only he was privy to. He was a journalist but not at the expense of their friendship. It was a fine line he walked, but talking for Taz was important to him, when Taz wanted him out in front of their new found fame.
“Maybe there is one person he hates, but he doesn’t fight because of hatred,” Kodak explained, calculating who Taz was to him, so he’d understand who he’d become after months in a war zone.
Kodak prepared his words, organizing ideas in simple terms that seemed appropriate. Trying to understand Taz was almost as difficult as trying to explain him to an audience. His proximity to Taz and his feelings for him were all that was important. The soldier had guarded over him, kept him safe in war, and now it was Kodak’s duty to keep Taz safe when he could.
What changed? What event created this change? Alone, desperate, without any logical reason to expect they’d survive, they’d come back conquering heroes. The fickle nature of the world was as big a mystery as ever to him. Was there any logic to it or was there only randomness? Was anything more random than war?
The idea of ‘one in a million’ seemed appropriate. In Nam you got the million dollar wound and went back to the world. Kodak had taken the million dollar picture. He’d never see the million but the result was the same. It defied logic and all that Taz was couldn’t account for the insane reaction to him once he stopped doing what he did best.
One picture taken as a response to having nothing else to do started the avalanche, which had swept them up. Being in love with the subject in the picture was an ironic twist that kept him smiling. He didn’t know that Taz could be loved, but there were some things that existed without logic.
They made decisions about their work, both of them, which propelled them into a journey of a million miles. They were lost in Vietnam. They were celebrities for being found. There was no sense to be made of it and once you accepted that you rode the wave.
Kodak knew he had no idea what the odds were against them getting back alive, because he only had half the picture. Taz had failed to share with him that he had no more bullets. He’d gotten out of the chopper to do his job, just a little different view, seeking a little different result. It all made perfect sense at the time. From that came a zoo back at camp.
Taz got out of the chopper doing nothing any different than usual, but the results were different. They were immediately under enemy fire. He forced the enemy to stay down, and when he may have dove back into the helicopter’s open door, he couldn’t, because Kodak was still in danger. Regardless of what was said, he stayed to save his friend.
“We charged into the bush, virtually unarmed without either of us knowing it at the time,” Kodak said as he relayed the story in a way that fit the questions.”
The facts were incredible. It didn’t need any embellishment to make Taz seem heroic. He was heroic. He was heroic every day. Putting it into words made it seem real, when it seemed like a script.
“The universe stretches on forever and how do one or two tiny changes in actions totally turn it on its nose?”
1st squad listened for a different reason. The guys were grateful to get their warrior back, but it was more than gratitude. They owed it to him for services rendered. Even without Sgt. Jacoby telling them anything, they suspected they were never really recovering Taz to return to 1st squad. They kept a look of distance in their eyes they watched Taz standing guard over Kodak.
His presence was enough as the cameras flashed pictures of him that would make sense to the outside world. No one there knew what came next, except the word was Japan and the world. The concept was too large for two men, lost and found. 1st squad and the camp were going to be there when it was all over. War simply moves along at its own pace and in its own direction.
“A picture published, the soldier missing, a desperate search is delayed and then launched, a country captivated. All unpredictable forces set in motion to create a happening. Recovered against all odds, a heroes welcome, stuff of which movies are made.”
“An obscure soldier in a faraway war made famous overnight. A photographer, who came to Vietnam in search of a story, only to become one. The world turns. The war goes on and we all go home if that’s how the story ends.”
Applause and recognition was accompanied by flashing flashbulbs, and the click of two dozen cameras as motion picture cameras turned. It was a five minute speech that took an hour to rerun in his head. Kodak sensed it wasn’t the last time someone would ask him to tell them how it happened in his own words. He had thought about them and rehearsed them, knowing Taz was going to want him to tell it.
Fame and receiving good treatment was a foreign affair to a man like Taz, who’d known nothing beyond surviving for too long. His father’s beatings were easy compared to this. By the time he left to join the army, he didn’t feel anything. He hated his father and he wanted to kill him, but he calculated going to war and killing for the army was a better idea and would keep him out of prison for a while.
When Taz had been ordered to Vietnam, he wasn’t afraid. He didn’t expect to leave Vietnam, not alive anyway. This was what made him such a good soldier, only he wasn’t a good soldier at all, simply a fighting machine with nothing better to do. He did not fear death because he hadn’t lived and therefore had nothing to lose. Death was his strength and every man who fought beside him knew Taz willingly stood between them and it. Taz was willing to die rather than watch his buddies die. That’s why 1st squad wasn’t about to accept anything short of bringing Taz back.
The wounded of 1st squad sometimes sent notes back, to let their buddies know they made it home safe. It wasn’t unusual for them to say, ‘tell Taz thanks.’ Everyone knew why it was Taz they singled out.
Taz had been wounded twice himself. The first time he consented to allowing the nurse to pour alcohol over the flesh wound before covering it with adhesive tape. The second time he reluctantly poured his whiskey on the wound, then he drank the bottle. By the time he sobered up the wound didn’t require adhesive tape.
These were random events that had little to do with Taz. He stood and he fought and when he returned to quarters, he forgot about the war. It was on most soldiers’ mind much of the time. They had to survive to make it home to their families and sweethearts, but Taz’s acceptance of dying meant he would never need to go home again. He’d never really had a home, save 1st squad.
Kodak didn’t pretend to understand Taz. When you care about someone, understanding will come in time. Learning about his past meant forcing him to relive it. It wasn’t wise to make Taz do anything.
Taz pulled his dress uniform from the bottom of his duffle bag, along with the low quarter shoes, and the hat with the hard shiny brim. They still had their basic training shine. They hadn’t been out of the duffle bag since Taz graduated basic training and went off to A.I.T., advanced infantry training. He’d worn out his fatigues, and cut the sleeves out of the shirts and let the pants become victimized by the Asian humidity. No one expected a fashion plate in The Nam.
Without a base dry cleaner, he’d have to travel appearing to be wrinkled as well as hung over. He wasn’t hung over but he longed to be. First stop was Japan. The cargo plane was met by officers and reporters. Kodak asked they not photograph Taz. It was the kind of request that was respected, when it came from the man who took ‘the’ picture. Taz didn’t care if they photographed him, but Kodak knew that one day he might.
Taz was distant and disassociated from the turmoil going on around him, which made Kodak even more vital to him. The first few times he faced the unruly mob he was in shock, answering the questions yelled in his direction, until he stood behind Taz with relief. He couldn’t carry the B.A.R. on the plane, so shooting the reporters was out of the question if not out of his mind.
Kodak was handed a telegram from his editor as soon as they reached the hotel in Tokyo.
“Kodak, money has been forwarded for you to get tailored suits while in Tokyo. We’re told that the military will send you to their tailor, where Pvt. Tazerski will have uniforms made for the tour. Have a gray suit and a charcoal gray suit tailored for you. We don’t want you playing second fiddle on this tour. Splurge and have some shirts made, and get a nice pair of shoes so you look sharp. It’s on the paper so be reasonable. We aren’t made of money.”
Brent
Kodak chuckled. Maybe they’d pay him what they owed him, after keeping him on a very modest allowance for his 8 months in Nam. A general’s aide met them at the hotel. It was a first class hotel in downtown Tokyo.
The aide showed them to their rooms. They stopped in front of what was to be Kodak’s room. It was modest, with a single bed and a small bathroom.
Taz was escorted to a two room suite with a huge bed and a picturesque view the aide appreciated for them but Taz failed to notice. The bush was nothing like Tokyo. The room was nothing like the limbs and leaves Taz had constructed to protect them from the rain a few nights before. It seemed like a long time ago. It seemed like another world.
“You got something in a small?” Taz asked. “I’m liable to get lost in here.”
“Only the best, Pvt. Tazerski. Compliments of Gen. Walker. He’s quite proud to have you in his theater. This is his room when he stays in Tokyo.”
“Which side of the bed does he like?” Taz asked, staring at the brightly colored bedspread.
The aide wasn’t amused by Taz’s sense of humor. He gave him a hard look, not understanding the circus that surrounded such a soldier. Showing up in a uniform that looked as if he slept in it wasn’t going to do. It wasn’t going to do at all. Gen. Walker would set him straight.
“What’s the movie tonight?” Taz followed up, after realizing he failed to amuse the squared aware major aide.
“Movie?” he repeated with an attitude.
“Yeah. What’s playing in the general’s theater. I haven’t seen a good movie since forever,” Taz exaggerated as Kodak was surprised by the irreverence.
“There’s a bar here. All the General’s favorites,” the aide continued, and without missing a beat he opened and closed the doors to the liquor cabinet with a dozen bottles, glasses, and a bucket of ice.
“I’d go easy on the liquor. The reporters have this hotel staked out. We wouldn’t want to make a bad impression, now would we?”
“Heavens no, we wouldn’t want to do that,” Taz said, alarm dripping in his voice.
Again the aide gave off a long hard gaze.
“That’s not a good idea,” Kodak interrupted. “Have the liquor removed.”
“What?” the aide asked, as if he’d suddenly gone deaf.
“He doesn’t want any liquor. You don’t want him to have any liquor. The general especially does not want him to have liquor.”
“You’re no fun,” Taz complained, opening the door of the cabinet to look at the aged and bonded booze. “Man, could I go somewhere on that shit. Hey Kodak, all I need is one.”
“Yeah, but you’re the hero and no point in taking the luster off the rose on the first night.”
“No, I suppose not, but it would make for an interesting night.”
“Or week,” Kodak said. “Send someone up to take it out.”
“The general is going to want to come up here and have a drink with him,” the aide calculated, pretending Taz had now gone deaf. “This is the general’s room. He won’t like having his liquor removed.”
“Hey, what’s your name,” Taz barked with as much disrespect as he could muster.
“Major Wilson, private,” the aide said with a sharp edge for the heroic soldier, who obviously didn’t know who he was talking to.
“You see him,” Taz said unrepentant, nodding at Kodak. “When he tells you to do something, that’s what you do. Okay?”
Major Wilson eyed Taz and Kodak with equal contempt. He knew what his orders were. The general had bought into the fever pitch surrounding the soldier, being stirred by the news services around the world. It would all come to a screeching halt, once the two characters wore out their welcome.
This was the United States Army and tradition and respect were paramount. This poor excuse for a soldier was going to regret crossing swords with Major George Anthony Wilson, he thought as he nodded at Kodak, without accepting what the private had told him.
The major left the room without further discussion, closing the door behind him. He’d have a long talk with the general and get this situation straightened out in short order.
“You believing this? We were sleeping under a bush a few nights ago and now we’re up here where the big boys play. How about I have one little drink for old time’s sake?”
“How about we don’t. Luckily my room isn’t so much different from sleeping under a bush, but I can visit you up here in the big house if I feel deprived during the night,” Kodak said, with a touch of surreal joy with the circumstances.
“Hell, you ain’t staying in that closet. Look at the size of that bed. Too bad 1st squad ain’t here. We’d all fit fine in that bed and still have room for that haughty major.”
“Can you imagine the expression on Washington’s face?” Kodak smiled. “He’d love this.”
“He ain’t even seen a bed this size. Neither have I. Too bad he couldn’t come with us. Washington was okay,” Taz thought fondly.
“Yes, he was.”
“He put up with a lot of shit from me and never complained.”
“He never complained about anything,” Kodak said.
“No, he didn’t. He made sure I had whatever I needed. I remember after that sergeant got wasted and I picked up his B.A.R. the first time. Damn that thing was heavy. I didn’t know what I was doing, but the guys always took care of me once I learned its personality. I was a lucky guy.”
Taz hadn’t thought about his journey since the day he took over the big rifle. The B.A.R. had been left at the airport, ready to be shipped back when Taz left Japan. He felt funny not having it within arm’s length. He felt funny without 1st squad.
Taz didn’t think he should take the B.A.R. It belonged to Sgt. Conroy. He was a walking talking piece of gristle, who had gone career after WWII, volunteering for Vietnam. He’d learned to love his B.A.R. more than he’d ever loved anything. It was his weapon of choice. He’d kept the supply lines open to get him what he needed to keep the B.A.R. in like new condition.
When Sgt. Conroy no longer needed it, Sgt. Jacoby argued with Taz.
“It’s not regular issue. Where in the hell will we get supplies for it? It’s too big. You’re too small. It doesn’t belong in Vietnam.”
Taz loaded it up anyway and carried it on the first patrol Sgt. Jacoby led, after Conroy was killed. When they ran into Charlie, he was more surprised than 1st squad at the results the first time Taz fired the B.A.R. It was so exciting he didn’t realize how successful he’d been.
He’d seen Conroy with it and it made him seem ten feet tall. He’d watched how Conroy got Charlie ducking fast, as he sprayed fire into the scattering enemy. Once he’d done it, 1st squad was charging toward the enemy, laying down fire at a furious rate.
Taz failed to get the barrel up to do what he saw Conroy do at first. It had weighed down his arms, but he almost immediately adapted to the weight, getting into action fast. The B.A.R. became an extension of his arms. It was part of who he was as a soldier. Taz had found his place in the squad and there were no more arguments.
The M-16 was less than half the weight and easy to maneuver. It was too light for Taz’s taste. He needed something more substantial. The B.A.R. was perfect in his mind and he made believers out of 1st squad in short order. In a few minutes he wielded the weapon like a fighting fool: The fighting fool of 1st squad.
Sgt. Jacoby, once back in camp, checked to make certain the B.A.R. stayed in good operating condition and the supplies kept coming. He assigned Washington to keep clips loaded with the crate of ammo that was left under his bunk, once Conroy was gone. No one had to tell him twice that the B.A.R. was in the right hands.
It hadn’t been more than an arm’s length away from Taz most of each day for months. Taz felt a little awkward without it, but he knew this was a new life. He had never had much of an old life and didn’t know what to expect.
His status as someone special definitely wasn’t on his to do list when he joined the army. Now these were his orders and he’d do what he could not to get into too much trouble. He trusted Kodak to help him in this endeavor. Taz trusted Kodak in a way he’d never trusted anyone. What he felt for him he couldn’t explain, but he liked it.
There was room service for lunch in Taz’s room. He had Kodak order him a club sandwich and French Fries. He didn’t know what a club sandwich was, but it sounded good to him with all the things he’d been missing all in one pile.
Taz ate one and Kodak feared for his fingers. The amazement in his eyes over the taste of real food was amusing. Kodak had a tuna sandwich and by the time the second club sandwich showed up, Major Wilson was back with an address and orders for Taz to go get his tailored uniforms.
Taz ate one quarter of the sandwich, put the metal cover back over it and they headed for the address on the paper they were given. Kodak’s measurements were taken, sizes established, and he was soon sitting near by where Taz stood with the tailor hustling around him, making certain to get his measurements right. Then, once he put a pair of military type britches on him, began to pin them up to make sure the fit was correct.
“Ouch,” Taz blared, as the tailor pushed a pin into the material and Taz. “Ouch, damn it.”
“So sorry,” the tailor said with the heavy Japanese accent.
“Damn it. Don’t he know the war’s over and his side lost,” Taz bellowed, unhappy as another pin pierced his skin.
“So sorry,” the undaunted tailor said.
“He’s just paying you back,” Kodak said.
“Ouch! I wasn’t in that war. I’m going to bleed to death before I get my ass out of here. I can wear shorts and a T-shirt.”
“No you can’t. You’ve got to make the army proud. You haven’t come this far to surrender now,” Kodak kidded, having a tailor with a better aim.
Taz would receive four dress uniforms. He wore the dress shoes back to the hotel and carried a bag full of socks, underwear, and ties. There was a belt and a dozen fine handkerchiefs and two dress hats. Each of them wore a hat, but it was a little small for Kodak’s head, making it more of a lark.
Tokyo was huge. Neither of them was ready for the size of the city and so many people. Everyone was polite and friendly, with Major Wilson seeming to be the only asshole in the city. Luckily he knew where he wasn’t wanted.
There were officers everywhere but Taz had worn his civvies, wanting to feel like something other than a soldier for the first time in too long. They stopped at a Japanese restaurant and let the waiter suggest popular local dishes. It was heavenly having fresh food, even though they didn’t recognize the tastes.
There weren’t any formal activities scheduled the first night in Tokyo. Being fresh out of a war zone, decompression was a good idea. They’d not run into a single reporter when they were out on errands and there was a soldier posted at the elevator when they stepped out on their floor, and another at the door of Taz’s room. Each came to attention as quick as they sensed someone was close at hand.
“At ease. At ease. I’m just a soldier like you,” Taz reminded the soldier at the door. “What, the general here?”
“You’re him?” he said, sounding sure.
“Yep , I’m him,” Taz said. “Him who am I, if you don’t mind me asking? I’m new in Tokyo.”
“You’re Tazerski. I saw your picture in Time magazine in the general’s office. We’re supposed to take care of you. Not let anyone annoy you. Make sure you don’t get lost again.”
“Time magazine?” Kodak said, still wearing the undersized dress military hat, but cutting a fine figure in his red Hawaiian shirt and soiled shorts with his worn out sneakers.
“Cover,” the soldier said. “Awesome story, sir.”
“Good grief, I’m Taz, he’s Kodak, you got that soldier?” Taz snapped.
“Yes, sir,” the soldier replied sharply.
“You don’t lighten up I’m going to have to shoot you,” Taz said and the soldier laughed. “That’s better. We’re having dinner later. They make a hell of a club sandwich. What if I order you and your buddy one? You think he’d eat one?”
“Yeah, he’d love one. Me too. That’s great. We don’t get to eat while we’re on duty here, just stand guard when the general’s on the floor. He don’t like being bothered.”
“Yeah, well, me and your general share that in common. Anyone comes nosing around, run them off, and if that S. O. B. Major Wilson shows up, shoot him.”
The soldier started laughing and he was relaxed after that, realizing Taz was just another soldier not taking the hullabaloo seriously.
“He’s an asshole,” the soldier offered in his candid opinion.
“What’s your name?” Taz asked.
“Cook. The other guys Mason. You need anything, anything at all, you just ask one of us. We’ll be here every afternoon and evening as long as you’re here.”
“I’ll keep it in mind, Cook. Just relax if we’re the only ones on the floor. I’m about as army as Bob Dylan and we don’t have to play pretend. You need the facility knock. You want some food, let me know.”
“I appreciate that,” Cook said, opening the door for them.
Once back in the room, Kodak made sure the liquor cabinet was empty. Taz was already planning his order for room service for dinner and studied the menu to make it memorable. He nibbled on one quarter of the three-quarters of a club sandwich as he made plans for the evening meal.
“Have a piece,” Taz said.
“We just ate,” Kodak remembered.
“Yeah, we might not ever get to eat again. You better eat while we can. Once they find us out, we’re in deep shit.”
Kodak sat down and nibbled at the potato chips and enjoyed the still fresh sandwich. He watched Taz looking at the menu.
“Anything worth eating?” Kodak asked.
“They’ve got four kinds of shrimp. I love shrimp. I don’t remember the last time I had shrimp.”
“Order them all and we can share them. I can eat shrimp.”
“Steaks, chops, fish, chicken, it’ll take us a month to try all this stuff, Kodak. The general certainly knows where to stay.”
“I need a shower. I’m going to go see if I’ve got something clean I can put on. I should have gotten a pair of slacks and a shirt off the rack.”
“You seen my bathroom? You can shower here and no one has to see how you’re dressed. They got a stereo and a television set in that wall unit. I wonder what’s on TV?”
“Japanese, Taz. We’re in Japan.”
“Oh yeah, the general has to have some records. You can’t tell me he ain’t all American.”
“Probably. I’m going to go checkout the shower,” Kodak said.
“Call me when you get the water warm enough for my fragile body. I haven’t had warm water since before basic training.”
Taz didn’t wait to be invited. He let Kodak have a few minutes to himself before he climbed through the shower curtain into the huge tub. Kodak was immediately soaping up his chest and their embrace was their first long lasting unencumbered affair.
They weren’t about to talk about this need to be close at every opportunity, but they’d both accepted it was the way it was. Holding each other with the steam rising up around them made it about the best shower either of them could remember. Neither mentioned the other’s excitement as indicated by their ever present barometers. It was a nice part of a nicer shower.
“You’re handling all this better than I thought you would,” Kodak said to Taz as they sat watching Tokyo moving past down below their balcony.
“I don’t have much to say. Once they ask the same damn question a hundred times, what’s left to say? Besides, you handle them way better than I do. You, they understand.”
“I’m the journalist. I know the way their minds work. The same questions over and over makes it more likely that when they slip in that revealing question you might answer it just to say something different. ‘Are you still beating your wife,’” Kodak announced in a deep broadcaster’s voice.
“Yeah, or are you still showering with your good buddy?” Taz said with a coy smile.
“We’ve got to be careful not to blow this thing up, Taz. There’s no point in poking a finger in the eye of the golden goose.”
“Yeah, I know. I wish I didn’t have to play their games but I’m still in the army. I’m happy I’m not in Nam anymore but I hate playing the fool for the army. If you step out in front when I get in trouble, we’ll do okay. I don’t like all the fuss though.”
“Me either, but the smart thing is to go along with them until they get tired of us. Then we go off to have a life of our own.”
“Together?” Kodak asked.
“Why would we split up now? I thought we were cool.”
“Totally,” Kodak said. “Just checking. I don’t know much about much.”
“I don’t know much, Kodak, but I know a good thing when I got it. Now I’ve got to figure out what to do with it.”
“We got time, babe. We got the rest of our lives.”
Each of the soldiers on the floor came in one at a time, once the food arrived. Each sat at the table to have his sandwich, while Taz and Kodak had shrimp and a half dozen different fresh vegetables. It was outstanding and Mason proved to be even more laid back than Cook. He relaxed immediately and polished off his share in a couple of minutes, heading back to the elevator in case anyone came up.
Taz lay across the bed holding his stomach after stuffing himself for the third time that afternoon. He could hardly move and he fell asleep there. Kodak nodded at Cook when he got up to go to his room. Cook thanked him again for letting him eat.
It was some time long after Kodak had been asleep for hours that someone was at his door.
“I’m lonely,” Taz said, standing in the doorway of Kodak’s room.
“You came down here in your boxers?” Kodak asked. “Didn’t Cook wonder what the hell you were doing?”
“What, you want I should wear my dress uniform to come see you? You ain’t that pretty. Cook and Mason went off at midnight. How ‘bout I sleep here?”
“It’s only a single,” Kodak said, surprised by his friend’s request.
“Yeah, well, so am I. I just left a war zone. Give me some respect. I need some company, big guy. You going to deny me that?”
Kodak climbed into bed first and Taz got in and snuggled up against him, reaching to move Kodak’s arms around him. He got no protest and both men were comfortable in that position. It brought on almost immediate sleep, which was interrupted by some frantic knocking in what seemed like only a few minutes.
Kodak walked sleepily to the door.
“He’s not in his room. I’ve got his schedule. Do you know where he is? I’ve got work today. I can’t go chasing him around Tokyo.”
“What, you can’t wait until the sun comes up?” Kodak asked, wanting time to think.
“It’s 10:30. There’s a news conference at two. The general wants to have dinner with him tonight. You need to get him dressed and down in the lobby by eleven and I’ll brief him as to his schedule. Do you have any questions?”
“No, major, I’ll have him in the lobby by eleven. Give me some time to wake up,” Kodak said, closing the door before the major got a look inside.
“Why didn’t you invite him in?” Taz asked.
“We don’t need to start something we can’t finish. I’m sure the major wouldn’t understand.”
“Ask me if I care what that dickhead understands. He’s lucky I don’t have my B.A.R. I’m going to get us another major, one that ain’t quite so arrogant. I’ll be in the lobby when I’m damn good and ready to go there.”
“Eleven. You’ve got to go get dressed. I need a shower,” Kodak said.
“Another shower? We showered for an hour last night. Bring your clothes. I don’t trust a bathroom that’s not big enough to turn around in. I’ll see to it there’s another bed put in there for you. I don’t want you sleeping down here.”
“It’s fine. It’s a hotel,” Kodak said. “I been sleeping in the woods.”
“Yeah, well I ain’t staying up there in that palace and have you down here. You’re with me, babe. Where’d we be without that picture you took? This is a team effort, buddy, and I ain’t saying it again.”
Kodak wasn’t going to argue about the easy stuff. He might need to talk Taz into something important to keep him out of trouble, and using all his ammo on sleeping arrangements wasn’t smart. As far as sleeping arrangements were concerned, he was more than happy to give Taz his way.
Taz’s hand was tired from all the handshaking that went on before lunch. He didn’t know whether to salute, shake, or curtsey. He’d never seen that much brass in one spot, and they all smiled and seemed pleased he was there.
Kodak was always introduced second, but all the officers were keenly aware of his role in the photograph that now hung in each of their offices. Kodak got as much attention as Taz by the time they’d finished lunch and chatted about the skirmish over in Vietnam.
A two hour lunch was beyond Taz’s and Kodak’s experience. There were salads, soups, fancy doodads, and a main course, followed by an amazing display of desserts. Taz knew what was coming and though he hadn’t gotten breakfast, he ate sparingly at the officer’s lunch meeting. There was no formal speaking arrangement with a press conference following the lunch.
That night was the general’s dinner to honor Taz. It was about people thanking him for his service. Rumor had it the general would present Taz the Bronze Star. The other officers would all return, making the faces seem a little more familiar. This would only last a few days and then the events were spaced further apart, once they got back in the U. S.
Celebrity was cause for celebration, drinks, toasts, and speeches. Kodak told Major Wilson to make certain Taz was served ginger ale. The major sneered at the suggestion Taz should not be allowed to drink. It didn’t take a genius to know there would be trouble if he did. Major Wilson was rather hoping for trouble to take this pair down a peg or two, but he passed along orders to keep Taz’s drinks without liquor, since the responsibility had been given to him.
There was time for Taz and Kodak to go up to their rooms to dress for the press conference. Taz looked totally military in the new tailored uniform and Kodak decided he’d stick to Hawaiian over Bermuda shorts. This was Taz’s show and he’d stay in the background until he got his suits for personal appearances.
The news conference was held in the main ballroom of the Pagoda Hotel. They were led into the area behind the stage by Major Wilson who acted nervous about the publicity. There were speakers that preceded the introduction of the pair. It was how all such news conferences would go. It was no longer simply Taz and Kodak on review. Everyone far and wide wanted to be a part of it.
The questions at the airport had been spontaneous to a certain extent. Organized insanity could appear that way but it was a small dose of a larger scheme to introduce a warrior to the kind of battle you waged with the media. The army wanted Taz to represent them and put a heroic face on the Vietnam War, which had recently lost favor in the country. They regarded Taz as the answer to the public relations difficulties they were having concerning the war.
As they started up the steps that led them onto the stage, Taz found the B.A.R. shoved into his arms. It was such a familiar feel it immediately excited him to have it back. Kodak pushed him up the steps and they were immediately in the center of a clicking and flashing frenzy.
Taz was blinded by the light. He held his B.A.R. in the way he’d hold it while on routine patrol. Cameras went crazy as he turned from one side to the other looking at the confusion. Kodak kept Taz between him and the pictures. He wasn’t the one people wanted to see and as long as they were taking pictures, there were no questions to be answered.
They ended up in front of a podium with microphones hung all over it, after everyone else on the stage moved back away from the stars of the show. There was an army motion picture team on a platform in back of the ballroom, facing the stage.
“How do you feel,” a reporter yelled, when the confusion died away.”
“Fine,” Taz said, leaning toward the largest microphone and feeling out of place.
“How’s your room?” someone else yelled.
“Fine,” Taz said. “It’s bigger than this room.”
The comment got the reporters laughing and Taz’s shy boyish demeanor appealed to them and their cameras. Being wide eyed and unsure of himself was unusual for the people who often appeared at such events.
“How does it feel to be famous?” someone shouted.
“I don’t know. I’m the same guy as before. Maybe ask my friend. He’s one of you guys. He knows more about all this than I do.”
Taz moved aside well out of the range of the microphones, leaving Kodak standing alone. He saw Major Wilson in the rear of the ballroom and other officers seated behind the reporters, who had attended the luncheon. He had to say something.
“He’s the same guy as before,” Kodak said, repeating Taz’s opinion, while he tried to remember the thoughts he’d been organizing since they’d been put on the plane that took them out of Vietnam.
“We were lost in the jungle a couple of days ago. We had no idea anything like this was going on. How does it feel to be famous? Taz is a soldier. Taz is a damn good soldier. Pardon my language. I’ve been in-country too long. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for Taz. That’s a fact.”
“What are your plans? Are you going to stay with Taz? Are you going on the tour with him?”
“Yes, we’re in this together. I take the pictures. He shoots people.”
Everyone laughed this time.
“You guys have become pretty close?”
“Yes, we have. He kept me alive out there.”
“What kind of guy is he?”
The room became quiet. Kodak answering for Taz didn’t seem to bother anyone. Each question was asked clearly and without reporters competing. The men they’d been waiting to hear from were in front of them and they were happy with the access.
“He’s the kind of guy that stands out in the open to lay down fire to protect his squad. He’s the type of guy that doesn’t ask for a thing. He does his job. Ask 1st squad how they feel about him. All the regular members of 1st squad will say he’s the best soldier they know. He’s the best soldier I know.”
“How does it feel to have a picture you took traveling around the world at light-speed?”
“I’ve just got here. I don’t know if I feel anything yet. If my work is successful my paper will be very happy and maybe they’ll give me a raise or at least pay me what they owe me.”
Everyone laughed as Kodak felt odd being center stage. He waited for the room to go quiet again.
“Maybe you can name your own price at any paper in the States,” someone yelled.
“I don’t have any offers.”
“You will,” someone yelled, and everyone laughed.
It was mostly Kodak addressing other journalists and Taz was relieved he didn’t have to think of anything else to say. He wanted off the stage and he wanted to get out of the insanity. He wanted a drink and he wanted to get lost somewhere that was quiet.
Kodak had rehearsed what to say in this situation. Every time there were questions he thought of all the possible responses. Remembering what he rehearsed was difficult. Once he’d given a response, he usually remembered it and then thought of things he might add. It was too bad he didn’t have a clean shirt but no one seemed to mind and their presence created an excitement that rendered mundane things unimportant.
“What are you looking forward to most?”
“The food. Some rest. A real bed to rest in. No one wanting to shoot at me. Everyone speaking English.”
The laughter returned to the room.
“You’ve come to the right place. Tokyo has a million restaurants. Does Taz like the food?”
“He’s eaten everything but the silverware.”
The laughter was contagious and the reporters seemed to be satisfied with asking the easy stuff. Kodak stayed out front until the questions slowed down, and then he stood beside Taz, moving him forward and the cameras took over after that. All of these pictures were of the two of them and these would be the ones that had America going wild over the dynamic duo.
“You okay?” Kodak whispered for only Taz to hear.
“I’d be better if I had a full clip in this rifle,” Taz said softly, smiling big for the cameras.
Dinner in General
The news conference simply ended without anyone indicating it was over. People were gathered in groups, talking. The staff was clearing chairs that the officers now stood behind. At the first possible opportunity Taz headed for the stairs with Kodak right behind him.
Much to Taz’s chagrin a skinny lieutenant took hold of the B.A.R. once he got to the bottom of the steps.
“I’ve got to get this ready to be shipped to Hawaii,” he said, relieving Taz of the responsibility.
“I can’t keep it with me?”
“Not in the hotel. They’d shit themselves they see you walking through the lobby with this thing. They have very strict gun laws.”
Taz understood, but he was used to getting his own way and arguing with officers always ended badly. He was top dog at present and causing trouble wouldn’t look good, but he was fond of his weapon.
Kodak had money waiting for him when he checked at the desk for messages, and a note from his editor.
‘You’re under contract to us. We will honor our end if you intend to honor yours. Brent.’
Kodak hadn’t had time to think and an envelope of ten crisp new twenty dollar bills struck him as odd. They’d been sending him a single twenty dollar bill each time they returned prints to him twice a month. He hadn’t even taken the roll of film out of the camera that was in there the day he and Taz got separated from 1st squad.
They took a taxi to pick up the remainder of the tailored goods and Kodak bought Taz and himself some shirts off the rack and stopped at the place recommended to get jeans and sneakers. Taz bought a black baseball cap with the word Rebel emblazoned in red.
It was five when they returned to the hotel and the formal dinner wasn’t until eight. They’d have time to relax and give the room service staff some exercise. Taz still spent a lot of time looking over the menu to plan what to try next. Having an option made him feel like a kid at Christmas.
The dinner was held in the main dining room of the Pagoda. It could hold several hundred people, with a like number of people in civvies as in uniform. There were many couples, both civilian and military. Conversation buzzed at every table when Taz and Kodak were escorted into the room.
The applause began almost immediately, and before they got to the guest of honor’s table, everyone stood applauding loudly. There were two photographers in dress military uniforms.
General Walker was tall and broadly built. He had the usual short military haircut. His hair was dark with streaks of gray, giving him a distinguished look. As soon as Taz got within an arm’s length, he was reaching for Taz’s hand. As they shook, the general used his other hand to seal the deal, lending warmth to his commanding demeanor.
Taz smiled, appreciating if not understanding the reception, although he wasn’t comfortable with the applause. Taz sat beside the general and Kodak sat next to Taz. Once they sat down, everyone sat down. The applause faded as the servers were immediately swarming over the fifty or sixty tables.
“How are you, son?” the general asked.
“Fine, sir,” Taz said, looking like a million bucks in his new tailored dress uniform.
As they chatted a photographer moved in front of the table to take a dozen photos of the two men talking together. He disappeared off to one side to be out of the way.
“How do you like the room?” General Walker asked.
“It’s nothing like Nam, sir.”
“No, I suppose not. I keep it for when I need to stay overnight in Tokyo. It’s there for dignitaries or special guests. They make a great club sandwich you want to try. Best I’ve had this side of the States.”
“We’ve had half a dozen since we got up there,” Taz revealed, surprised he had anything in common with a general.
The general laughed, patting Taz’s back approvingly. He was a sincere man who didn’t waste time worrying about his image. He knew his job and he did it. He liked Japan and had a fondness for the people. He regretted the casualties in Vietnam but lacked the rank to change the policy. He was able to impact his little corner of the army, but that’s as far as it went and he knew it.
The food began to come and the conversation slowed as the clinking and clanking began. The buzz of voices was reduced by the amount of food that kept appearing. Taz had no trouble focusing on the food and actually recognized the all-American food. He polished off his prime rib in no time.
There were to be no speeches. The general offered Taz a big black cigar after the meal and Taz obligingly took it, and let him hold the lighter so he could fire it up. He’d never smoked a cigar and so he coughed a few times without giving up on the vice. He held the cigar as the general took him from table to table, to talk to the officers and gentlemen the general wanted Taz to meet.
Mostly it stopped with the first dozen tables nearest to the general’s table. Some men did approach and tried to join the conversation, but mostly the contacts were tightly controlled by General Walker.
By nine thirty the general was moving Taz through a doorway into the main bar, using his hand to guide the guest of honor. They sat at a long table with a dozen other general officers, with aides at the ready for any and all orders.
“Taz, I want to introduce you to something I think you’ll enjoy. By the cut of your jib you’ll take to it like a duck takes to a duckette.”
There were some chuckles as Kodak stood at the bar monitoring the military meeting. As he was completely suited to news conferences and journalists, so Taz was better able to negotiate the military maze, except when the bottle was brought to the general to inspect and then double barrel shot glasses were set down in front of the officers as more black cigars appeared.
The general poured Taz’s glass to the rim without a drop slipping out over the side. Taz sat staring at the beautiful brown hue of the liquor. Major Wilson was soon taking the bottle, pouring it into the general’s glass and working his way down the table until every glass was full.
“To Private Tazerski, Taz,” the general said, lifting his glass and drinking half before putting it down.
All the officers tilted their glasses towards Taz before downing as much as they could consume in one swallow.
“Go ahead, son. I don’t stand much on ceremony. This is the perfect after dinner drink with my cigars. I’ll have a box sent to your room. You’ll find several bottles of this in your liquor cabinet in the room, but I’m sure you’ve found it by now, industrious soldier that you are.”
Taz glanced at Kodak, who nodded to give Taz permission to consume the drink. He picked it up and looked at it carefully, sensing this was way better than any hooch he could score in Nam. He placed it to his lips, and slowly drained the double shot into his stomach, feeling its warm fire beginning to glow.
“Well, son, is it a man’s drink or not?”
“Yes, sir,” Taz said, made a little hoarse by the potency of the whiskey.
“Aged and bonded 30 year old liquor, son. Nothing like it.”
The general reached his hand out to receive the bottle that now was kept by Major Wilson. He handed over the new bottle with only a few drinks taken from the top. The general turned to fill Taz’s glass again. Taz’s hand covered the top and the general looked into his eyes for the first time.
“You don’t like it?” he said, sounding annoyed at this possibility.
“It’s the best liquor I’ve ever had. I’ve never tasted anything like it. I’ve just come out of a war zone, sir. I’m already feeling that first drink. I don’t want to make an ass out of myself. Especially, I don’t want to embarrass you. I seem to be on stage all the time. It wouldn’t be smart to be seen as anything but the soldier you’ve made me out to be.”
The general remained silent. Taz moved his hand and the general handed the bottle back to Major Wilson, who sneered at Taz as he took it. The only thing better than this soldier getting drunk and acting like a fool was him pissing off the general.
Taz watched Wilson backing up, keeping his eyes on him. There were no fond feelings there.
“Taz, you’re okay with me, drunk or sober. I’ve been known to tear up more than one bar in my time, but you’re right, this isn’t about what I like or even what you like. It’s about the army and what they like. One day all this shit will be over with and we’ll just be a couple of rednecks back in the States. I want you to come up to my place in Montana and we’ll drink our asses plumb off.”
“Yes, sir,” Taz said, smiling broadly at the general’s earthy tones.
He liked the man and no one noticed his glass remained empty. The general leaned in to tell his heroic soldier about his wife and two sons, and about the rugged mountains and plains he could see from the porch of his house. He made it sound like home and he made Taz feel like he was part of it.
After an hour of talking louder and louder as the bar filled up, the general took Taz to the corner of the bar. Taz was still feeling no pain and the general was three sheets to the wind, but without a hint of losing control of himself. The bartender worked his way down to where the two men stood, with the general towering over Taz.
“What’s your pleasure, gentlemen?”
“Bring us two ginger ales and a bowl of those fancy pretzels,” the general said without appearing the least bit uncomfortable.
“Son, Taz, what do you want? What can an old war horse do to make this easier on you? I can see it’s not your cup of tea. I can’t undo what’s being done by forces that have gone way beyond being under control, but I can open any door needs opened and I can see to it you have whatever you want to make it easier on you. Tell me, what is it I can do to make this come out okay?”
Without missing a beat Taz knew exactly what he wanted from the general.
“Your major is wrapped too damn tight around the axle. My man Kodak knows what I need and what I want. I don’t like mouthy folks who think their shit don’t stink. Get me a lieutenant or a sergeant or someone who can talk to Kodak. Kodak can tell me in a way I understand. That way I’m where I’m supposed to be when I’m supposed to be there.”
“Wilson? He annoy you, son?” the general asked, concern in his voice.
“He’s an asshole, sir. I don’t mean any disrespect. You asked.”
“I thought it was me. That fellow’s been annoying me since they assigned him to me. I think he might be keeping an eye on me for one of Westmoreland’s generals. I don’t play the game the way the big boys like. Wilson’s one of them, not one of us.”
“I don’t know about any of that, but if I got to be pushed and prodded, I’d rather have Kodak doing the pushing and prodding. I trust him and I depend on him.”
“I tell you what, son. Cook is the boy on your front door. He got shot over in Nam. I met him on a visit to the hospital. I asked to have him assigned to me. I’ll see to it he takes care of the scheduling the next few days and he can tell you or your boy Kodak. That suit you?”
“Yes, sir, that suits me swell. Cook’s all right.”
“I’ll see if I can’t find a latrine for the major to polish up for me. I’ve been wondering about him for a while now. I’m glad we had this talk.”
“I think he could do a fine job of that.”
“Look, son, you need anything, anyone else annoys you, you got my number. I’m a long way from where you’re heading, but I know people. I’ve been in this man’s army for 25 years. Can’t help but get to know a thing or two about a thing or two. Keep in touch with me and if you need something, give me a shot at it.”
“Yes, sir, that’s nice of you. I didn’t expect a general to be a regular guy,” Taz observed.
“I was a guy a long time before I was a general, Taz. I’m still just a guy. This damn war makes me worry for my army.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“You going to make me drink this ginger ale?” the general asked. “It gives me gas.”
“No, sir. I appreciate you understanding about the booze.”
“Bartender, give me a double of the 30 year old stuff.”
“At your service, General,” the bartender smiled, banging down a double shot glass and filling it to the very top.
“To you, son,” the general said. “May you have a long life and at least one great love.”
General Walker knocked it straight down, leaving his eyes watery.
Taz raised his glass toward Kodak and smiled at him, drinking the ginger ale straight down as if it was hard liquor. Kodak laughed and saluted his friend for his self-control.
Major Wilson kept his eye on Taz, taking notice of all his peculiarities. He was certain he would find a way to put this private in his place, but he hadn’t heard his new orders yet.
Taz had spoken to every officer in Gen. Walker’s chain of command, but he’d only remember the general, whom he called, “general.” The general leaned affectionately toward Taz as what he had to say was meant for only the private’s ears. All the officers noticed the general’s demeanor and thought it uncharacteristic for their boss. He wasn’t a warm man and at times he raged about battles and tactics that killed so many of his men and marines as well.
It was war and there was little time for warm fuzzy friendships, but Gen. Walker saw Taz as one of his boys, and he could well have been one of his sons. It did get the general’s mind off the war and on something way more pleasant. Someone had come back alive.
It was well after midnight when Taz and Kodak returned to their room. The guards were gone and one photographer took a picture of them going into the elevator. Taz waved as the doors closed, snatching back his hand just in time.
“You had a good time,” Kodak said.
“The general is okay,” Taz said, appreciating the way the officer had treated him. “The officers I’ve known have spent most of their time busting on my ass. It’s different with Gen. Walker.”
“Yes, it is,” Kodak said, letting his hand rest fondly on Taz’s arm.
There was no room service but Cook and Mason hadn’t eaten all of their club sandwiches. Taz was starved and polished them off, after hanging up his dress uniform. He turned on the television and they lay on the bed watching a Japanese program, not understanding a word.
Early the next morning the phone was ringing, the television was blaring, and Taz covered his head with one of the half dozen pillows he’d asked for.
“Hello,” Kodak said, forcing his eyes to stay open. “Yes, sir. Yes, sir. He’ll be ready. He’s in the shower right now. Yes, sir. Goodbye.”
“One of your sisters is going to come wash your mouth out you don’t stop lying,” Taz said through the pillow.
“General’s office. They’re sending a car for you at noon. Dress. You’ll be lunching with your buddy at one.”
“What about you?” Taz asked, placing the pillow on his chest.
“It’s your army, not mine. I’ll go find some journalists to cozy up to. No telling what might be going on back in the world. They might have blown it up by now.”
The sergeant held the door open for Taz and he slid into the backseat. The soldier drove silently through the heavy Tokyo traffic. Taz felt like a fish out of water. He looked back once and caught sight of Kodak, who’d come out to watch the car pull away. Taz felt uncomfortable being separated from his friend. He couldn’t remember the last time they were apart for more than a few minutes.
The officer’s club was a-buzz when the general brought Taz in, and there were some short conversations as they walked back to a private room that was set just for the two of them.
“Let me order,” the general said as Taz nodded agreement. “Two T-bones. Baked potato with extra sour cream and butter on the side, chives. Fresh salad. Vegetable of the day. Give me a bucket of those onion rings for the middle of the table.”
The general poured them both a drink from the bottle beside the table. He held his glass up toward Taz before drinking it down. Taz took a sip and left it alone. His mouth was watering for the steak. Liquor would ruin it, and he was looking forward to wrapping his teeth around the beef. He waited to find out what he was doing there.
“I’ve been going over your record, Taz. I asked for it before you came.”
“Oh, shit!” Taz said. “You found out I’m a fuck-up.”
“No, I found nothing of the kind, son. You’ve had a few run-ins, but you’re in a war zone. I approve of spirited soldiers. That’s not what I was looking at. I knew all I needed to know about you in the first five minutes. I confess I don’t understand why you do what you do, but I know you’re a hell of a soldier.”
“You got that out of my file?”
“You’ve been wounded twice. No Purple Heart awarded for either one. There are reports from your sergeant. You refused medical treatment once and would only let the nurse put alcohol and adhesive tape on the other wound. There’s a description by Sgt. Jacoby on the two incidents when he put you in for the medals.”
“He never told me he put me in for the Purple Heart,” Taz admitted. “I would have told him not to bother.”
“Why? You were wounded in battle with the enemy. You put your life on the line. When you’re wounded, you deserve the award.”
“You seen some of the guys that are really hurt. They got legs and arms shot off. Some are blind. I don’t want no medal for getting a scratch. Those guys deserve the awards.”
“That’s why you and the army are at odds. It’s not your call, son. Your leadership makes those calls. The medal doesn’t simply represent blood has been drawn. It represents the fact you were there, making a sacrifice for your country. If we only measured it by who has the worst wounds, we’d miss the purposeful hero.”
“I suppose. I don’t like that word. I don’t fight because I want to get medals.”
“Why do you fight, son?”
“It’s my job. I’m in the army. They put me out there to do my job. I do it. I draw my pay. It’s all I expect.”
“And you drink too much,” the general added.
“No, I drink just enough. You have read my record.”
“You took one drink last night and you’ve taken a sip of some of the finest whiskey this side of heaven today. How’s that?”
“I’ve got a new job, General. It’s not my idea but I know it isn’t me they are all gaga about. It’s the guys that no one knows are out there. It’s the guys that were out there and will never get home. I’m not a smart soldier but I know all this stuff has nothing to do with me. Someone took a picture. Someone else liked it. I got my ass separated from my unit. I was lost and this was Search for Tomorrow or some such as that. The Great American Soap Opera. It has nothing to do with me. I’m just the guy holding the gun for all those other guys. I don’t want to embarrass them by embarrassing myself.”
“You’re a lot smarter than you give yourself credit for. I got me some officers aren’t half as smart as you and they’re mature men, looking to make a career out of this war.”
“That’s their problem. I’ve got all I can handle here. I don’t have any desire to embarrass myself, you, or all those guys still back there fighting.”
“You want to go back to your unit, son?”
“No. I never want to go back there again. I hate Nam more than I hate my old man and I never figured I could hate anything as much as I hate him.”
“He signed you up at 17 so you could join the army?”
“No, I signed me up. He didn’t sign those papers. The last time I saw him I flipped him off and went out the front door. I’ll never go back. Now, I’ve got nowhere to go.”
“That’s not good to hate your father, son. I mean I know there can be hard feelings. Fathers and sons have been misunderstanding each other since time began. You’d do best making peace with him if you want to find peace in your life. Hating is a bad business. I’d say it is out of character for you. You don’t seem like a hater.”
“When I was nine, I was always small, I saw a horse out in front of the A&P. A kid was riding it. It just was the neatest thing I’d ever seen. I wanted to ride it and I broke away from my old man. When he caught up with me I was begging him to give me a quarter so I could ride it. He grabbed my arm and yanked it so hard it broke in two places. At the hospital he was all apology and horrified he’d damaged his son. They bought it. They put my arm back together and I was more cast than anything else. But my butt didn’t have a cast on it. When he got me home he beat me for breaking my arm. I don’t mean he beat me, I mean he beat the hell out of me for putting him in that position.
“I made up my mind that day I’d never be hurt again. I’d never let my body be damaged in any way no matter what he did to me. I also vowed I’d kill him the first chance I got. I joined the army instead. I don’t want to be in prison for the rest of my life. Don’t tell me I don’t hate my father.”
The general sat silent, staring at the boy telling him the most horrible story he’d ever heard involving fathers and sons. He knew all he knew couldn’t undo what had been done to Taz, or erase it from his memory. The best thing to do was to let go of it.
The food came, and letting go of it was done in a flurry of silverware and chewing. Taz had never told the truth about breaking his arm before. The story was, he’d fallen off the horse in front of the A&P. Taz was uncoordinated and not too bright, and his father simply had to endure his missteps and falls. The doctors and nurses were quite sympathetic to his cock and bull stories.
He no longer felt the pain of it. For a long time he woke up in pain, even after the cast was removed, and he was mostly healed. The terror he felt around his father was only exceeded by his hatred for him.
Taz had never had a better steak, not that he ever had much steak to compare it with. He felt relatively comfortable consuming the meal in his usual fast fashion. The coffee was the best he’d ever had and the general kept his cup filled.
The general hadn’t eaten much at all. He’d rarely been shocked, surprised, or sickened, being a general in a war zone. He did what was expected without expecting to make much of a difference. He was powerful enough to feel respected, without being powerful enough to make a difference to his men.
Taz was a breath of fresh air to Gen. Walker. If it wasn’t for the mission the army singled him out to do, he’d have had Taz assigned to his headquarters. He’d have found a place where he could have kept an eye on him.
It was unusual for soldiers to speak their mind to the general and this made Taz all the more likeable, although he wasn’t aware that soldiers didn’t talk to the general the way he did. He’d sent officers off to the middle of nowhere for less.
“I’m sorry I made you tell me that story, son,” he said, after having watched Taz eat everything but the napkins. “There are more onion rings. I can order another batch.”
The general tipped the bowl with the few onion rings left. Taz scooped them up, downed them, drank some coffee, and examined the T-bone for a morsel of meat he might have missed. The general smiled at the unpretentious display.
“I can order another steak if you like. There are plenty more where that came from. I can see the cattle will need to be on alert once you get back to the States.”
“Montana cattle country?” Taz inquired.
“Montana is a little bit of everything. Cattle, farms, mines and wilderness. You’re never far from being in the middle of nowhere.”
“I been there. We call it Vietnam.”
“No, this is wilderness you’d understand. Wild sheep, bear, mountain lions, and streams so full of trout you can walk across them and never get your feet wet. You ever had a trout you just pulled out of a river?”
“No, sir. The last fish I caught was a fish fillet sandwich down at McDonalds.”
This made the general smile an ironic smile, and at the same time he felt a hard twinge in his heart. How could it be that someone Taz’s age had never been fishing? It seemed almost impossible from his perspective. He’d been fishing since he was five and his father, The General, had come home on leave back a few years before the Great Depression. They hiked up into the mountains and his father showed him how to affix a fly to his line. It was an art sure to fascinate any Montana boy.
He went fishing with his father and brothers for a week by the time he was six, and he had been hunting since he was just a little older than that. He and his brothers supplied food for the family table during the Depression, while his father was away, and before they began raising cattle.
Gen. Walker came from a long line of General Walkers and he rarely let himself think too carefully about the lives of the men he commanded. Taz had him looking more closely at the life of a man who had no options when it came to going to war. Taz’s war started at home and a whirlwind had picked him up and deposited him on the general’s doorstep. Records were easy to read but men seldom were.
“I’ve been looking at your records, like I said.”
Taz took the shot of liquor and emptied it. He wasn’t going to leave anything behind if he was about to be thrown out on his ear. The general watched the soldier drink.
“I’d normally offer you another, but I won’t this time,” he said respectfully. “You’ve been demoted a couple of times. Five. How do you feel about that?”
“General, when I fight I hold nothing back. You get all I got. When I’m back at camp I drink. I drink the same way I fight. I mean no disrespect but that’s how I handle being in Vietnam.”
The general listened and sought to measure his words to reassure Taz he wasn’t offended.
“While you’re still in my command, I’ll give you your stripes back. In view of what your orders are, I’m promoting you to sergeant. I hope that won’t interfere in any way with how you view the army.”
“No, sir. I didn’t expect it. Thank you.”
“I’ve looked at Sgt. Jacoby’s report on your actions on the day you went missing. Impressive, sergeant,” he said, making sure he used the new rank. “Had you been killed we’d be talking about the Medal of Honor. He has put you in for the Bronze Star. Your actions don’t warrant the Bronze Star in my opinion. I’ve resubmitted the paperwork, and you’ll be awarded the Silver Star the morning before I put you on the plane to Hawaii.”
“Wow,” Taz said, thinking nothing could surprise him until now.
“There are words that go with the awarding of such a medal. Above and beyond the call of duty, disregarding his own safety, and with a great display of valor his actions saved lives. In regular language, you risked your life to save the lives of your unit, as well as the pilot and co-pilot of the chopper. I haven’t seen their report but Sgt. Jacoby doesn’t leave much out.”
“I don’t know what to say,” Taz said.
“You don’t need to say anything, son. Thank you. I’m proud to know you. As I’ve told you, you have my phone number. No matter where you are or what the circumstances, you need my help, you call me. Any trouble, I want to know about it.”
“I will, General. Thank you.”
“Once this thing is over and you get your life back, come to Montana. There’s a line shack up in the foothills above the ranch where we graze cattle in the fall. We’ll go up there and I’ll show you how to tie flies to a trout line. We’ll pan fry them next to the stream we take them out of.”
“That’s pretty nice of you. I’ve never been friends with an officer before, General.”
“You haven’t lived until you’ve fraternized with a general, Sergeant.”
“Sounds serious,” Taz said. “I know I’ve never eaten better. Fame does have its perks.”
“It’s my privilege, son. The promotion is already official, so, you’re out of uniform. My driver will see to it you get back to the hotel. I’ve taken the liberty to have a seamstress sent to your room to sew your stripes on your other uniforms while you’ve been out. Give this uniform to Cook and he’ll see to it that the proper rank is put on it right away. By the way, I reassigned Major Wilson to get him out of your hair. He seemed rather surprised.”
“Thanks. I’d be getting my ass busted again if that asshole kept watching me the way he did. I think he might be with the Viet Cong.”
Both men laughed as Gen. Walker told Taz that duty called but he’d see him again before his departure for Hawaii.
The Bond
The general handed Taz a big black cigar, holding the flame close to the tip for him. Taz puffed less desperately than the night before. The smoke didn’t interfere with his breathing this time. Taz sat back and relaxed as soon as Gen. Walker had sat back puffing before taking the cigar from his lips to admire with his eyes.
The two men sat enjoying their silent smoke, when a knock on the door broke into the peaceful moment.
The door swung open and an officer rushed directly to the general.
“General, sorry to interrupt your lunch. We’ve received a couple of communications from the Naval Command operating in the Sea of Japan. I knew you’d want to be advised without delay.”
Gen. Walker took the sheets of teletype communication the officer held out to him. Puffing up a cloud of smoke and nodding, once he finished reading.
“Do you have a car, Captain?”
“Yes, sir. He’s waiting at the front door. I’ll wait in the car if you like, sir?”
“Carry on, Captain. I’ll be along in a minute, once I finish here.”
Gen. Walker leaned back and took a few more long tokes off the cigar, butting it out in the middle of his half eaten T-bone.
“General business calls, son. Thanks for joining me. I’ve enjoyed hearing from someone who has his feet firmly planted on the ground. I’ll be disappointed if you aren’t calling me to arrange a visit to my ranch as soon as I’m back in the States.”
“Yes, sir, I look forward to it, General. I’d like to get away from all this, when I can.”
“I’ll make sure my wife has all the particulars. You don’t need to wait for me. The line-shack isn’t much but I’ll have it supplied for you on short notice and there’s not a place more peaceful in the world. You’d find your way around in no time. The cowboys only use it a couple months a year for grazing purposes.”
“I look forward to it,” Taz said, having come around to accepting the general’s hospitality without questioning it.
“My driver is at your disposal. You and your friend want to ride around town today, I won’t be needing him and he’ll enjoy a day in town.”
“Thank you, General. I’d like that. I like the people here. They seem nice.”
“If you keep the car you’ve got to stay in uniform. A precaution to save us a lot of explaining later on. My driver knows all the places I like best. He can make all the arrangements. My sergeant knows the lingo better than my officers. Kendall’s fine. You’ll like him.”
Taz stood when the general stood. He took the general’s hand and shook it firmly when it was offered to him. It wasn’t like an officer leaving an enlisted man to his own devices. Taz thought it was more like two friends saying goodbye after lunch.
He liked the general. Spending time on a ranch was never on his to do list before, but Montana sounded like his kind of place.
Taz sat back down to finish his cigar, until the bus boys began to swarm over the small room. He stood up, tucked his hat under his arm, and went in search of his car and driver. He moved out past the brass unnoticed. They seemed to have little to do but drink and bullshit.
Once outside the door, he took a second to get his hat straight on his head and by that time the general’s car was there and the driver moved swiftly around the back of the car to hold the door open for Taz. This didn’t seem appropriate to Taz, being outranked by his servant, before remembering it was no longer true.
‘Sgt. Tazerski,’ he thought in amazement, processing the details of his conversation with the general.
“I’m just a grunt, Soldier. You don’t need to do that,” Taz said as the soldier stood in a tight posture for him.
“It’s my job, Sergeant. The general said I should remind the sergeant to change his uniform before we go anywhere in his staff car. We wouldn’t want to get our ass busted before we break in the stripes, now would we?” the sergeant smiled broadly as he chided Taz good naturedly on his promotion.
“I’ll remember. What’s your name?”
“Sergeant Kendall, Sergeant.”
“Thanks, Kendall,” Taz said, sliding into the backseat, puffing the big smoke, and watching Tokyo out the window as they turned out of the base entrance to go back toward downtown.
“I don’t know the city, Kendall. I want to take… my friend to a show or something special. We’ll eat in the room but I want to take him to see something he’ll remember about being in Japan. Any suggestions? I don’t have a dime, so I don’t know how we’ll manage to square it all.”
“Sergeant, your money is no good in General Walker’s city. The general has given me instructions to see to it you get what you want. I can think of several very fine places, pleasant and very Japanese. Maybe one of the general’s favorites would be to your liking?”
“I’m sure if the general likes it, I’ll have no problem with it. You don’t mind staying late?”
“It’s what I do, Sergeant. I’m the general’s driver. I drive anyone the general wants me to drive. He doesn’t do much hobnobbing with enlisted men. You’re the first, in fact. He must be fond of you.”
Taz had no answer. He didn’t hobnob with anyone, especially generals. The general was good people, when good people were scarce. The driver seemed like a righteous dude, if a bit too formal for Taz’s comfort, but he was doing his job and he’d lighten up.
Taz was also doing a job. It had been made easier by the general. Knowing what was expected of him and what to expect wasn’t easy. He liked being treated with respect. It wasn’t something he was familiar with, but he liked it. Usually the further he stayed from anyone around him the better off he was. He couldn’t avoid the people who wanted to be around him now. They were presented to him or he to them. It was all very strange.
“Where’d the general find you, Kendall?”
“Me? I was wounded in the Nam. He came through the hospital with some of his officers. He sat down and started to talk to me. I tell him I want to stay in the army but they are talking discharge. Next thing I know I got orders to report to him. He asks me what I like to do. I told him I liked to drive. Here I am.”
“You know Cook?”
“Sergeant Cook. I know of him. He’s on the general’s staff. He does more MP like stuff. No, I don’t have much contact with him. I see him around the base.”
“You been up to the general’s ranch?” Taz asked, curious.
“His ranch? No, I never heard of no ranch.”
“I was just wondering. He seems okay,” Taz said.
“For a general, he’s super. Of course, I never had anything to do with generals before Gen. Walker.”
“I know how you feel,” Taz said, chuckling to himself as he watched Tokyo out the window.
Cook also stood at attention as Taz approached his door.
“Jesus, Cook, lighten up. I ain’t no officer,” Taz rebuked him.
“I’m supposed to give you this uniform to have the stripes sewn on?”
“Yes, Sergeant. I’ll take care of it for you. Might I say congratulations,” Cook said, reaching politely to shake Taz’s hand. “We’re all proud of you, Sergeant. A lot of bad press on this war. You sure got the bozos standing up and taking notice.”
“I still don’t get it but its better than patrolling the bush. Thanks, Cook. I didn’t do anything, you know? How about you, how’d you get this kind of gig? General says you’re a regular guy.”
“I took a hit in a battle over by the Delta. We were clearing a village when the Viet Cong came calling. They were just about to send me back to the world. I met General Walker a few days before I was due to ship out. He had a place on his staff if I was interested. Boy did I. I’ve been doing this kind of thing for him. I look after his guests. Mason and I keep an eye on his headquarters when he’s traveling around his command. It’s okay. He’s a good C O.”
“He ever take you to dinner? Invite you to his ranch?”
“Ranch? He’s got a ranch? Cool. No, the general and I don’t eat together. I’m not in his league, Sarge. You’re a star. That’s why he eats with you. He stops to chat whenever he sees me. He’s what a real officer looks like. I don’t need to eat with him to know he looks out for his men.”
“I’ll get this out to you,” Taz said, reaching for the doorknob but being beaten to it by Cook’s quick hands.
Kodak sat on the balcony reading. Taz stripped out of his uniform, hung it on the hanger he took it off of earlier, handing it out to Cook. He went back to stand in the doorway leading to the balcony and listened to the horns and commotion from the city below. It’s the first time he paid attention to the city a few dozen floors below.
“You’re out of uniform, soldier,” Kodak said, hardly looking up.
“Noisy,” Taz said, standing in his boxers and a T-shirt with sleeves.
“Yeah, isn’t it wonderful? No damn birds chirping, crickets cricking, or frogs belching. Just plain old-fashion racket. I love it.”
“I suppose,” Taz said thoughtfully.
“How’d it go?” Kodak asked, holding his finger in between the pages.
“Fine. You want to go out tonight? I’ve got the general’s driver. I figured you’d have something you might want to see.”
“Kabuki.”
“Same to you,” Taz replied.
“It’s Japanese dance. Colorful. Graceful. It’s classic Japanese theater.”
“I’ll ask Kendall to see what he can do.”
“Kendall?”
“The general’s driver. He’s going to drive us around. He’s mine until I give him back.”
“You don’t sound very happy about it. We can pass on it if you want to stay in. We haven’t done much relaxing.”
“No, I don’t mind. I want to go out. I’ve got to get used to people. Japanese people are people, unless there’s something you aren’t telling me.”
“What can I tell you, Sergeant?”
“Does everyone in Japan know I’m a sergeant? I’m in my freaking underwear. They sew stripes on the back of them, while I wasn’t looking?”
“I watched the seamstress sew the stripes on your tailored uniforms. Sharp. I used to know you when you were just a broken down private.”
“Emphasis on the broken down part. I don’t know what I’m doing here. I made corporal twice for about fifteen minutes. My only other experience with officers was having them bust me for insubordination.”
“You still taking it day by day? No dinners and no news conferences until day after tomorrow when we leave. We can see Tokyo. We can relax. You can tell me what the general had to say.”
“There was nothing new. He said what he said. I don’t want to talk about it. He means well.”
“That’s something.”
“Yeah, I suppose. Both Kendall and Cook got hit over there. Nam. They’re working stiffs. I got lost and I’m up here living high on the hog. It’s not right, Kodak. It makes me feel like I didn’t give enough.”
“A lot of guys are alive because you were there. I’d say you gave plenty. So, you got a little lucky. After nineteen years of being in shit, you get some good stuff. It’s about time. It’s time you lighten up.”
Kodak didn’t understand Taz’s difficult mood. He was on top of the world and being treated like a king but something was on his mind and Kodak knew to leave well enough alone. Taz would tell him when Taz wanted to tell him. This was something best left for him to decide when he wanted to talk. It was all overwhelming and Kodak wasn’t even in the center of the storm. He assumed the adjustment might take time, but Taz wasn’t one to complain or make a big deal about anything.
Kendall made arrangements in accordance with the requests Taz made. By early evening he was dressed in one of his tailored uniforms and in the back of the general’s staff car beside Kodak, heading for a Japanese restaurant before going to see the Japanese dancers perform.
Taz had yet to break a smile. He said little about the lunch meeting with Gen. Walker. There was a change of disposition Kodak couldn’t miss. He wanted to ask what was on his mind but he thought better of it. The notoriety and public appearances kept Taz off balance. Kodak felt that in time he’d relax, especially once they were back in the States and he would stay in the background and let Taz adapt in his own time.
Taz had no trouble polishing off all the food the hostess recommended. People were always friendly. There was someone who spoke enough English in each place they went to keep things comfortable. While Taz didn’t know any of them, they seemed to know him and they were happy he came to their establishment. Even in Tokyo, Taz had been on the front pages of their newspapers.
Kendall took care of all the arrangements in accordance with the way it was done for the general. No one bothered Taz or Kodak with checks or admission charges. Taz knew it was a nice way to be treated, because he’d never had much nice treatment before he joined the army and then people were shooting at him, so this was better than that. He missed 1st squad but not all that much.
“What did you think?” Kodak asked, as they were on their way back to the hotel.
“It was okay. As long as you enjoyed it, I did. Was it what you wanted?”
“It was wonderful. It’s got everything. So graceful and gentle and yet the colors are all bright and bold. They’re such beautiful people.”
“Your sisters would have loved it,” Taz observed without humor.
Kendall dropped them at the front door and bade them good night as they returned to the room. It was getting late and after undressing Taz sat on the balcony in his boxers. Kodak sat next to him after brushing his teeth.
Looking out on Tokyo at midnight they were comfortable together. Taz was still pondering the events surrounding his lunch. He’d broken one of his basic rules of life. He’d done it in front of a man he respected and liked and he felt guilty about it. There were things he left behind and thought he’d never need to deal with again, but twelve hours later it was still on his mind and he didn’t like it.
“The food was terrific. The flavors are so unique,” Kodak spoke fondly of the restaurant where they’d eaten.
“He put his cigar out in a steak that must have been a pound of beef,” Taz said without any preparation for the comment.
“Is that what’s bothering you?” Kodak asked. “He’s a general. He can do what he wants with his cigar.”
“No, I’ve never had a steak like that before. It was huge. I’d have given my left nut for a piece of steak that size when I was a kid. He just butted the cigar in the middle of it. I’d have eaten it. Asked for a doggy bag and brought it back to nibble on all afternoon.”
“Did you eat yours?” Kodak asked.
“Every bite. I was going to pick up the bone and chew the meat off it, but he kept looking at me as if he wasn’t going to let me do it if I tried.”
“It seemed like he likes you to me.”
“Oh, yeah, he thinks I’m peachy keen. Good thing because I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. You started all of this. You just had to take that picture.”
“Don’t blame me. Blame the gods. I’ve taken about a million pictures and none have made it to the cover of Time. It’s either you or them but I didn’t do anything different. It was just your time.”
“My time for what? I was just fighting this little Asian war and suddenly I’m Rock Hudson.”
“Alan Ladd maybe,” Kodak said, after looking at him for a moment.
“Alan Ladd? Shane? How do you figure, Tonto?”
“He is short. Rock is tall.”
“I’m not short,” Taz protested.
“You aren’t tall. Rock is tall. Alan isn’t.”
“Yeah, well, I can get lifts. I might have to. If I’m going to be a star I’ve got to be at least five ten. Do they have three inch lifts?”
“I’m sure they do but no one can tell how tall you are by a picture on the cover of a magazine. You look pretty damn large to me.”
“Maybe cowboy boots,” Taz thought, planning his growth. “Three inch lifts and high heels. I’ll be a real man.”
“You are as real as it gets, Taz. You don’t need lifts or heels or anything else to make you look more like a man.”
“Yeah, but heels will make me look like a man.”
“Most guys I’ve seen in high heels are anything but real men.”
“You mean I’m plenty real in or out of high heels?” Taz asked.
“Yes, you are. It doesn’t matter how tall you are. You’re as big as men come. I’ve known no bigger.”
“Yeah, but you love me. You’re supposed to say that.”
“The truth. Yes, it is important to tell the truth to the one you love. You’re plenty tall enough for me. I like you just the way you are.”
“See, you don’t love me the way I are. I’ve always wanted to be tall.”
“I’ve always wanted to be a singer, but I don’t dare let anyone hear me sing.”
“Why not?” Taz inquired.
“If you heard my singing voice you’d wish you hadn’t.”
“What do you know? You were raised with girls. They sing like Florence Nightingale?”
“She was a nurse. Who do you think knows more about real men than real girls?”
“Yeah, you got me there, Kodak. What I know stops with me being a man, and up until all this hoopla started, I wasn’t sure about that. In my brain I was still the boy who lied to join the army way back when. They could still arrest me if they knew my father didn’t sign my enlistment papers. I shouldn’t even be here but if I stayed there I’d be dead or in jail or both.”
“A lot of guys in 1st squad are glad you did it. I bet they miss you standing out there drawing fire.”
“I was afraid to do anything else. I could hide behind the B.A.R., but it made me feel ten feet tall. It made me big as anyone.”
“You are as big as anybody. I’m tired,” Kodak said. “I think I’ll turn in.”
“You forgot to mess up the bed they put in there for you. The maid knows we’re sleeping together,” Taz complained.
“She doesn’t speak English. She won’t know the difference,” Kodak reasoned. “So many people come through this room how does she know I stay in here? Maybe because my bed down the hall is always made? One little detail I overlooked when I moved down here.”
“I keep forgetting. I keep thinking I’ve got to be careful about anyone knowing anything for fear they’d find me out.”
“Find out what?”
“Just paranoid, I guess. Not wanting to be known so no one can pin my ass down. That maid’s got more to do than count how many people are sleeping in my bed. It’s probably not even something they think about in Japan.”
“Who thinks about it if she doesn’t?” Kodak asked.
“She’s got eyes and besides, what if Cook or Mason come in and notice? You ever think of that? I don’t want them thinking we’re sleeping together.”
“Taz, I hate to break it to you, we are sleeping together. If you want to mess up the bed, do it if it makes you feel better. The maid comes and makes it up before Cook and Mason come on duty.”
“I know. I worry too much. I’ve got to do something. They’re making me crazy with all this hero shit. I don’t know if I can keep acting the way they expect.”
“You’ve done pretty damn good, Taz. I’m proud of you. You could have drank all you wanted last night. You could have drank today. I’m proud of you for controlling yourself.”
“Do you know what they’ll do to me if I screw this gig up? I’ll be on my way to Leavenworth. General officers don’t look kindly on soldiers who make them look like fuck ups. I’m on my best behavior. They’ve got to get tired of this sooner or later and then I can drink if I feel like it.”
“They can’t hold a candle to the light you create around you. It’s not about the generals, Taz. It’s about you. They’ve got to get out of your way and let you shine. You’re their man at a time and in a war no one likes. They need you.”
Taz threw the pillow from the single bed onto the floor and he stepped into the middle of it to ruffle the covers to make it look slept in. Kodak smiled and shook his head. Taz turned out the light and slid between the sheets.
“You want to hold me?” Taz asked, snuggling up close to Kodak.
“You bet your bippy, buddy.”
Kodak held Taz close and felt him breathing deeply. Taz rested his head on Kodak’s chest, listening to the comforting sound of his heartbeat.
“Why did the steak deal make such an impression on you?” Kodak asked after a time.
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Okay.”
“He’s not giving me the Bronze Star.”
“He’s not? Why not?” Kodak couldn’t hide his disappointment.
“He says I deserve the Silver Star.”
“That’s better?”
“I would say it is. Two Purple Hearts to go with it. I don’t see it but he says I don’t get a vote. Sgt. Jacoby must have spent all of his time putting me in for medals. They never went anywhere until you started taking pictures.”
“That’s why I’m here.”
“I made him sick. That’s why he didn’t eat his steak. He tried to tell me about my father and how it was and I let him know he didn’t know how it was. He couldn’t eat after that. I didn’t mean to upset him. People shouldn’t think they know stuff they don’t know. He pissed me off and I let him have it.”
“I thought you were an orphan. It’s what you told me.”
“I am. I might have a father out there who is still breathing but I’m an orphan. I don’t know him and he don’t know me.”
“He’s going to know you when he gets a gander of his son on the cover of Time magazine. You think he might miss that little item?”
“I don’t care. He’s dead. I’m dead to him. I’ll never go back there and if he ever comes near me…. Being a father requires something other than his biological participation.”
Kodak could feel Taz shaking as his rage boiled inside him and he held him closer, brushing his hair with his hand. Taz slowly revealed what he’d told the general.
Kodak cried. He tried to hold it back but he couldn’t. They’d become too close. Kodak cried for a long time into the night. They lay together, Taz in Kodak’s arms taking comfort from the closeness to his friend. It’s what he wanted and needed most.
Kodak cried himself to sleep at one point and he woke to Taz’s quiet sobs. He couldn’t hold the tears back any longer and he slowly let go of the tight control he maintained on his feelings. The pain and terror he’d been subjected to as a boy surfaced in the Tokyo bed. Once he began to cry he couldn’t stop.
There was nothing Kodak could do but hold him close to comfort and reassure him. He wasn’t going to leave him and any threat to Taz’s well being was a threat to his own.
The pain of years of abuse was exposed. Ten years and ten thousand miles couldn’t lessen the impact, once the memories came flooding back. The power of it was immense for the abused and the one who loved him.
Once the tears were cried, they both slept well into the next day. Kodak expected it had to come out sooner or later and perhaps this was the best time, as Taz was transitioning into a new life. It seemed as if it might be the best thing for Taz. Dealing with the past was never easy but he had gotten it out of his system without any other witness and without judgment on his tears.
Kodak was first up and he sat watching Taz for a long time before he went into the sitting room and ordered breakfast, coffee, and a copy of Time magazine’s current issue. He showered, brushed his hair, and dressed in his last pair of clean shorts and one of the Hawaiian shirts he had come to love.
“Taz, you want to get up? I’ve ordered breakfast. It’s getting close to noon,” Kodak said.
Taz lay a long time fighting to keep his eyes open. They still stung from the hours of tears but he felt strangely calm and didn’t remember much about the conversation the night before with Kodak. He told him everything because it had all rushed back to the front of his brain once the general had approached the subject. It seemed a lot less important the day after, and he struggled up and into the shower, where he spent a long time washing and enjoying the rush of water he could adjust to any temperature he liked.
When Cook came on the floor, he had all the details of Taz’s departure for Honolulu the following afternoon. There was to be a ceremony at the main hanger at the military airport where the boys would fly out at 1:15 pm, local time. General Walker had been called away but planned to be back in time to see Taz off.
Cook ate several pieces of the bacon that was left from breakfast and drank coffee while looking over the Time magazine. The article was mostly about Taz and Kodak being lost after an ambush all but shot down their helicopter. There was speculation but no facts concerning their rescue.
“Damn fine picture, Sergeant,” Cook said. “You look like John Wayne. How’d you get a picture from that angle during a firefight, Kodak. You must have been pretty damn close to the action.”
“Yeah, you might say that. I was right where he knocked me down. He was straddling me after he pushed me onto the ground once the shooting began. He had no appreciation for my photographic genius.”
“He must appreciate it now. I’ve never seen a picture capture battle the way this one does. One man’s war.”
Taz had seen copies of the picture everywhere he went, but when he took it from Cook it was the first time he had looked at himself in the picture of the warrior with the big rifle.
“They tell me the States are going nuts waiting for you to get home,” Cook advised him.
“Is there another plane? Maybe one to Tahiti?” Taz asked.
“No, I’m afraid you’re going to have armed guards all the way home. You’re the biggest thing to hit the Army since Sgt. York.”
“Yeah, he fight in Vietnam?” Taz asked.
“WWI,” Kodak answered. “Maybe the most decorated American in that war.
“WWI? That come before WWII?”
“Yes.”
“Which one was the war to end all wars?” Taz inquired.
“They’re all billed that way,” Kodak said.
They all laughed and only Taz wondered how he ended up in the middle of this show. He tossed the magazine back onto the tray and Cook retrieved it for a signature. Taz signed and handed it back, being made uncomfortable by Cook’s entry into his fan club.
For Taz it was fine for officers to tiptoe around him, because he’d always tiptoed around them. Enlisted men were just like him and he didn’t want them looking at him any different than before. He couldn’t say, “Stop it!” and yet it’s what he wanted to say to Cook. Mason brought his own copy of Time down later that afternoon, once he’d seen Cook’s signed copy.
There was no reason to go out and they didn’t. Taz seemed more relaxed and Kodak had never had it so good. They feasted through the day and relaxed from time to time.
After noon the following day, Kendall drove Taz and Kodak to the airfield where a ceremony was to precede the take-off by a couple of hours. They drove around to the back of a huge hanger and Kendall asked Taz to wait at the bottom of a flight of stairs that led into the building. He immediately walked Kodak around the corner of the building and came back without him, after telling him where he needed to go in order not to miss anything.
Kendall went up the steps and went inside before returning to light a cigarette and wait to be told they were ready for Taz.
“Once you go inside, follow the major and he’ll escort you to the stage where you’ll get your medals.”
Taz felt alone and he didn’t like that feeling. Kendall had nothing to say and questioning him was futile. Finally he signaled for Taz to come up the stairs and he followed an officer as they walked across the back of the building on the inside. The officer stopped at a door and held the knob to keep it out of Taz’s hands.
“I’ll open the door and Gen. Walker is waiting on stage for you. There are a few soldiers detached to the base and some civilians that asked to come see you off. The ceremony will only last a few minutes and then Sgt. Kendall will drive you out to the plane.”
Someone knocked on the inside of the door and the major opened it to finally allow Taz to make it to his medal ceremony.
As quick as he stepped inside he was guided to a white curtain, which was held open for him to step through. It was a long way from the back steps onto the stage and further yet from rural Conway, Arkansas to center stage in the Vietnam War.
There was a sea of green and a roar they employed to welcome their hero. Gen. Walker sat among some other general officers behind the podium that was being occupied by a sergeant, who introduced Taz just before he came in from stage right.
Turning to survey the audience, cameras clicked, flashbulbs flashed, and Taz was caught by surprise as the applause and roar of the crowd was deafening. It was by far the biggest audience Taz had appeared in front of, and he waved at the green uniforms and they roared again, applauding louder. This went on for some time before the sergeant held up both arms, trying to quiet the crowd. They roared louder and the applause continued. Taz blushed for the first time in his life.
General Walker stood and moved forward to the podium.
“Gentlemen, I’ve got only so much time to get this done and if you want to roar some more, wait until I give you something to roar about,” he said without any force to his words.
The level of the noise elevated before it began to quiet somewhat.
“It’s my honor and privilege to introduce you to Sgt. Tazerski,” he said, holding out his arm for Taz to come to the podium.
The ceremony was underway. Taz stood at attention as one Purple Heart and than a second was brought to be pinned on his finely tailored uniform. Each time the general pinned on the medal there was a roar of acceptance, salutes, and handshakes. The Silver Star was brought forward and Gen. Walker was careful to explain what it took to receive the medal. He pinned the medal on Taz, and there were more salutes and more handshakes, and cheers and hats were thrown in the air. Everyone loved it.
In the back of the hangar, standing among the random officers from the airfield, was a tall thin man in a tailored charcoal gray suit, dark blue shirt, metallic gray tie, and a Panama hat with a wide hatband. He wore big sunglasses and behind the sunglasses Kodak cried for his friend. Across the top of the stage above the ceremony was a huge banner that read, Welcome Sgt. Tazerski. The picture Kodak had taken on the battlefield and that now graced the cover of Time, was at the end of the banner.
Taz was among his own. He was in the hands of a general who cared for him and made him feel at ease. At the same time it was overwhelming and he had to fight back tears. Once the general sat down, the applause and racket were relentless. Taz smiled and waved and was grateful he couldn’t speak, because he didn’t know what he would have said. It was always Kodak who calmed him enough to remember where he was and why he was there.
Being celebrated was still new. For most of his life he was anything but celebrated. He felt lucky to have survived the war, and he had no urge to ask to go back. Feeling liked, accepted, and even adored gave him goose-bumps. He knew he could easily fail to live up to expectations. It was a difficult war and any heroes couldn’t help but improve the image of soldiers who took a beating at home.
Sooner or later the real story about him would come out. He was a drunk and a fuck-up. Yet, he did what he did and did it fearlessly. Maybe that earned him a fuck-up or two. Maybe it didn’t. He was there and he was being put out front to represent the fighting man, and he would do his best to do that honorably.
When the sergeant came back to the podium to dismiss the gathering, they were still applauding. All the officers had returned to their offices, and Kendall now waited for Taz and Kodak to get them to the flight line in time for them to be on their way.
Kodak stood in the back of the hangar until most of the soldiers were gone. He moved forward and climbed the stairs to the stage to be next to Taz, who never took his eyes off Kodak as he walked toward him. Kodak threw him a salute and they shook hands.
“You look like a million bucks, Sergeant,” Kodak said.
“Yeah, I feel okay. Have you ever seen anything like that?”
“Never have.”
“Come on. We’ve got to get you on the plane so I make sure your bags go with you,” Kendall said, shaking Taz’s hand as they came out the backdoor of the hangar.
Homeward Bound
The engines on the huge transport were deafening. There was no one there to see them off but Kendall, who stood at the steps, until the two men went inside the plane.
The plane taxied directly onto the main runway and without so much as a hesitation they were rumbling along, building speed, until the smooth, quiet air replaced the tumult behind them. As they sped away from one kind of hullabaloo, another kind awaited them at journey’s end. The previous all army show was coming to a city near you. It was only the beginning for the two unlikely heroes. The two men represented something beyond definition in an increasingly unpopular war.
Taz was tagged the fighting machine, Kodak was dubbed the fearless photographer. In some ways the descriptions were deceptive, coming from the group who identified closest with them. The journalist created the labels, but no one had to tell a soldier what Taz represented.
The happenstance of the picture was irrelevant. It was the image and how it was seen that propelled the excitement. Generals saw Taz as the prototype fighting machine. Newspaper editors and executives saw Kodak as the consummate journalist, heroic, with many stories yet to be told, and they couldn’t wait to tell them.
These were treasures that begged to be exploited, but no one quite knew what they had. It didn’t matter. They created excitement by showing up. People were hungry for men who could speak of honor and duty with their heads held high. This would sell in America.
It seemed anti-climactic having no one see them off as they departed Tokyo. It was like the show was over, once the medals were handed off and the enthusiasm waned. A sergeant showed them the door, where Kendall waited for them.
The military was serious business and they were a passing fancy. Being hustled off to a plane to be taken elsewhere was a refreshing relief. Not having hands to shake, smiles to return, and small talk to make was amazingly agreeable. It was like a show and the curtain had come down.
Taz might be a celebrity to the outside world, but he was a sergeant to the military. Maybe a sergeant with a high profile, but a soldier nonetheless. He followed orders and did his duty.
In no time at all there was nothing but water below them. Taz still hadn’t calmed down from the experience at the hangar. Even with the plane all but empty, they sat together and spent some time decompressing from the loud reception.
It was fun being in Japan. It was more fun being out of Vietnam. They were now about to set down in Honolulu, the next stop on Taz’s tour as arranged by the US Army, but Kodak was to be the rising star of the duo.
“You look quite the gentleman, Kodak,” Taz observed after a long silence, looking at his friend’s attire.
“I’d give a buck for my Hawaiian shirt and a nice pair of Bermuda shorts.”
“You look good in your suit. You never looked so good.”
“You look pretty good in yours. You fill it better each day. I was proud of you. You looked like a hero on that stage back there.”
“I was scared shitless. I’ve never seen so many people. Where were you? I wanted you with me. I’m no good without you. You need to stay beside me if I’m going to stay calm.”
“The army had other ideas. I was in the back but I had a great view. I didn’t have my camera. I would loved to take pictures at the ceremony. It was hard just standing and watching.”
“Someone was taking a lot of pictures. Every time I looked out to find you, I got flashes for my effort. I had spots in front of my eyes for most of the ceremony. I still can’t figure out all the fuss.”
“Me either,” Kodak said, not telling Taz about his tears.
“You know what I would like right now?”
“No, what would you like?” Kodak played along.
“One of those triple-decker club sandwiches from the hotel. Man, those suckers were good. I’ve never had a sandwich like that before. I was too nervous to eat this morning.”
Kodak picked up the canvas bag he’d been handed by Cook on the way out of the hotel. He unzipped it and reached inside to pull out a club sandwich on a paper plate, wrapped in cellophane and covered in potato chips.
“Oh, man, who thought of this?”
“I did. I had Cook get four wrapped for us to eat on the plane. It’s going to be a long flight to Hawaii.”
“How long?”
“It took ten hours to Vietnam. It’s not quite that far from Tokyo. It’ll be a long flight.”
They each dug into the first of the club sandwiches. They weren’t quite as tasty cold as when the bacon was crisp and warm, but it hit the spot and was a reminder of one of the more pleasant things they’d first found in Japan.
Before long they were both relaxing, with Kodak watching the water passing below. Each slept some, squirmed some, and thought a lot about the past couple of weeks. It seemed like days later when the transport touched down, wheels screeching, with the bumps of another runway apparent under the wheels of the plane.
They taxied for a long time and it looked like they might be back in Vietnam, with palm trees, jungle growth and empty tarmac out their window. The plane finally jerked to the right and hangars and a terminal came into view. The plane turned again, slowed and came to a stop as machinery sped past.
An officer moved down the isle and stopped beside the two weary travelers.
“It’ll be a couple of minutes before the stairs are brought up. I’ll be back to open the doors when they’re secured. Don’t leave anything behind. We’ll be going back to Tokyo as soon as the cargo is loaded.”
When they stood by the door, the captain pushed it open and stepped out in front of them to secure it. Taz and Kodak had to squint once they stepped into the brilliant daylight. A loud roar and applause greeted them.
The top of the terminal building was filled with people waving flags and making a lot of noise.
“What, the Beatles coming?” Taz asked, seriously surprised.
“No, I think they’re here for you. I’d hoped we’d left all the insanity behind in Japan,” Kodak said.
“Me too,” Taz agreed, unable to process the confusion.
Once they came out of the jungle, they were exposed to the madness of the press. In Japan the press coverage and enthusiasm grew. Both figured, after the initial excitement and once the medals were awarded, the level of interest would fade, but when they taxied to the terminal near Honolulu, there were several thousand people there to greet them. It’s not what they expected.
Two attractive young girls raced up the steps to put the traditional Hawaiian flowers around their necks. Kodak instinctively reached to protect his camera, but it wasn’t there. He’d been told to pack it to keep it safe. Taz recoiled, catching himself, the surprise of being rushed to put a lavish perfumed lei around his neck being no threat, but Vietnam was closer than it seemed.
There were cheers, signs welcoming them, and a mixture of army, navy, and civilians closing in on the plane. An honor guard formed on the tarmac, complete with American and Hawaiian flags. A line of officers greeted both of them as they took the stairs to the ground. The band played, ‘God Bless America.’
Taz again became the center of attention. The generals seemed anxious to return his snappy salute. The conversations were short, curt welcomes to Wheeler Air Field. As Kodak brought up the rear, a line of civilians wearing expensive suits were waiting for him.
“Mr. Anderson, welcome to Hawaii. The Honolulu News Bureau is proud to host your visit. We’ve assured Mr. Brent you’ll be in good hands.”
Kodak didn’t immediately respond to ‘Mr. Anderson.’ He at first was tempted to look around to see who they were talking to. He’d always been Paul, except when his sisters called him Pauly, which he hated. It took a second for him to acknowledge them properly, and he spoke of the long flight, smiled and tried to look alert.
Men introduced themselves, shook his hand, and made small talk about Vietnam, California, and the action over there. He smiled, shook, listened, and retained almost nothing.
In a moment the boys were whisked away in different directions. Kodak tried to figure out where Taz was being taken. He was escorted to a limousine and with the editors and owners of Honolulu’s major papers, they sped away from the airport.
Kodak was driven to a ceremony at city hall, where he was given a key to the city. Still unable to fathom the fuss, he smiled, shook more hands, accepting congratulations, before being escorted to a luncheon given in his honor.
He faced the glare of the cameras, reporters yelling questions, and more suited men than he’d ever encountered. Everyone wanted to shake his hand. They all smiled toothy grins and were glad to see him, whoever they were.
As he was taken into the dining room, he felt his unshaven face and wanting out of the suit he felt sewn into. Once more he found himself in the middle of handshaking, and when he looked up, he saw a life-sized picture of his friend, as it appeared on the cover of Time.
Under the picture was printed, photo by Paul Anderson.
Kodak wondered why it didn’t give the name of his paper. Then he remembered the deal. They paid for the film, got first rights to print all his pictures, but he retained ownership. His college professor had stressed that this needed to be part of any contract he signed.
The talk went on and on. They sat down and were served chicken breasts with pineapple slices, rice and some fancy veggies. The mayor and other dignitaries spoke, and there were flaming Hawaiian desserts and flaming Hawaiian dancers. What any of this had to do with Kodak, he couldn’t see. He smiled until his jaws got tired.
“I’d like to say that I once believed art to be the province of the elders. I’ve now seen artistic genius in the work of Mr. Paul Anderson. His series of pictures of Sgt. Tazerski is as fine a study by a war correspondent as I’ve ever seen, since World War II.”
As the host spoke, applause followed each pause. Kodak was starting to see the larger picture. While it intrigued him, it wasn’t about him. He’d just been there to work the camera. Taz was the subject matter and it was the photos of him that people saw. Clicking pictures didn’t amount to a lot.
“Now, I’d like to introduce our guest of honor and maybe he’ll tell us something about the good sergeant, since the army has him booked elsewhere this afternoon. Gentlemen, I give you Paul Anderson.”
Kodak was not prepared for a speech. What the hell would he say? ‘I take the pictures, Taz makes them real.’ He looked at the gigantic photo of his friend, dominating the wall behind the table where he sat.
“Excuse me. Does someone have a bold tipped pen?”
The room buzzed and someone came up with what Kodak had in mind. The pen printed broadly in black and he went to work on the picture, blocking out Paul Anderson, writing Kodak.
“I’m Kodak,” Kodak introduced himself anew. “I was Kodak to my men and that’s good enough for me.”
Kodak had no question about who he was. Paul Anderson had been left behind in the States, a student, an inexperienced young man. The man who had grown up in Vietnam was Kodak. It was clear to him that one had no resemblance to the other.
There was applause and a new appreciation for the photographer they honored. Kodak was a member of the 4th estate. He was a journalist, and at twenty he was on the top of his game. He’d taken an outdated camera to captured the essence of a warrior. That’s who the men that honored him saw.
“I wouldn’t be here without Taz, Sgt. Tazerski. I’m not a journalist without him. I’m not even a photographer without him. I wanted to see war. Taz showed it to me. I learned about men who fight war. I learned not to question their quirks when they put their lives on the line.
“You can’t photograph what isn’t there. I clicked my Kodak and in between the shutter snaps, Taz stepped beyond reality and into a world forever frozen in time, the fighting machine of 1st squad.
“I appreciate… all of this. It isn’t deserved. I don’t exist without Taz. He is the story, and I’m merely the man who holds the camera. I’m also exhausted. I’ve been on a plane all night. I need a shower and a shave, and then I might be able to think of more to say.”
Kodak sat and took the applause for his honesty.
Kodak knew nothing about the grander plan. He knew he was nothing without Taz and it was even more apparent to him as he was given center stage by journalists. It was his picture going around the world as he wore his lei, ate his chicken, and accepted undeserved accolades. It was odd being separated from the real star.
After doing nothing for hours but sit, he was rushed off to meet the Honolulu elite. It was a lot to endure, but luckily the journalists had papers to get out and business to conduct. The luncheon was over.
The owner of the hotel, along with the most influential newspaper moguls, accompanied Kodak to his room. On the bed was a brand new Nikon, with lenses from here to there, a big camera bag meant to hold it all, a tripod and a flowered, thick strap that would hold the Nikon in place around his neck. On the other bed were a half dozen Hawaiian shirts and a half dozen pairs of shorts to match. They were loud colors and Kodak loved them. He couldn’t wait to get out of the suit.
“This really isn’t necessary, but thanks. Now I need to be with Taz. He has been fighting a war. We’ve been together ever since we got lost in the bush in Nam. Being back in the world means he needs me to keep him grounded. Take my word for it, it’s the way it works if this deal is going to continue.”
“That’s a story in itself,’ the mogul thought, then said, “I’ll take care of it. We wouldn’t want the sergeant to feel deserted in his hour of need. You’re a pretty clever promoter. You stay close to that boy, Mr. Anderson. He’s your meal ticket.”
Kodak’s face burned and when the man called him by his old name, he had the urge to deck him. He realized this was how business was done in the big time. The idea that Taz was the closest friend he’d ever had was lost on someone who saw dollar signs surrounding everything. Kodak’s blood ran cold.
“I had my wife pick out the Nikon for you. I’ve got several. None as nice as that rig. It seemed appropriate, since that thing you’re using is older than dirt.”
“Yes, sir,” Kodak smiled, thinking that camera was what brought him there.
He didn’t get it. He’d stood behind Taz as he stood in the spotlight. Taz had sought to push him out front when he became uncomfortable, and that was okay. It all seemed like a whirlwind that would blow itself out, but he had misjudged. Not only had he misjudged what was happening, he’d let himself become part of a promotion. He wondered if Taz understood where they were heading?
“Well, son, we’ll leave you to rest. We all wanted to meet you. You’re the hottest thing in the news business. Everyone wants a look see. You get your shower and some rest and we’ll see to it your young man gets delivered back here so we keep him happy.”
Kodak walked with the final mogul to the door, closing the door behind him. He leaned his back against the door feeling relieved.
He took off his suit and laid it next to his suitcase. He picked up the orange shirt, the yellow one, and the dark green. Each had the exact same pattern, only the color was different. He calculated he’d never wear the same two colors. That was too ordinary. He placed the orange shirt with the blue shorts, the red shirt with the green shorts, and the blue shirt with the orange shorts, changing the green to the orange and the blue to the red. He realized there were about a hundred combinations he could create. He smiled. It was classic Kodak.
He went to the wide round tub in the living room sized bathroom, threw in fragrance, bath oil beads, and several bars of soap shaped like little roses. He stepped into the warm bubbling water as it filled to knee deep. He sat in one of the places carved out for you to sit low in the tub. He felt like he needed a shave, although he’d shaved in Japan and that was almost always good for a week.
Even in the bubble bath with extra bars of soap, Kodak did not feel clean.
Tripler
These generals weren’t nearly as warm as Gen. Walker. Taz didn’t feel at home and even admirals and air force generals came calling. It was a dog and pony show and he was the pony.
Taz smiled, saluted politely, as the generals chatted to each other and no feeling of organization existed. Taz is coming and everyone wants a piece of the cover boy, the army show, which more resembled a gang hanging around a rock concert they couldn’t afford to go to but didn’t want to miss.
The unease running through Taz was best swallowed and forgotten. He understood he had no right to any space of his own. He was in the army and this is what the army ordered him to do and he got no say in the matter. He’d wait them out hoping that they’d lose interest soon, but then the colonels, lieutenant colonels, majors, and captains began to make their appearance, mostly enamored with each other but glad to have any occasion to mingle with superiors in a non-threatening mode.
Taz made a concerted effort to remember the last general he saw up close. There was the one before departing for Vietnam that stood on a stage and kept calling the gathered throng, “My boys” as the two hundred men stood in formation before him under the watchful eye of stern sergeants who make certain no one yawned while at attention.
His boys were going off to be shot at and he was proud of them for their courage. Unlike Taz, most of them were draftees and did as they were ordered, which Taz also did, but he’d willingly joined ‘this man’s army.’ He intended to be a man without having any idea what it meant. He certainly hadn’t envisioned anything like this. It seems he’d joined the army and ended up in the circus.
The crowd grew, Taz yawned, the generals chatted with the colonels and everyone thought it was wonderful, each shaking Taz’s hand as they looked for another superior officer to impress with the perfect creases in their uniforms. Taz shook, smiled, yawned off to one side, and pretended he wasn’t there, while wondering where Kodak had gotten to.
Kodak was his salvation, a man he could talk to and get straight talk from. Kodak being there would give him someone more like himself to talk to. He was the face that went to the man on the cover of Time. It was all anyone saw. He was not a man. He wasn’t even a soldier. He was just a face on the cover of a magazine.
The officers’ club, being the next stop, meant lunchtime drinking. There was no offer of food and no particular attention given to keeping Taz’s glass full. Knowing better, he’d accepted the drink from the general who seemed in charge, then slowly letting it leak out as he moved around the throng in a tilting maneuver to dispense the liquor. He was tired. Liquor was a bad idea.
He entertained himself with the thought of one of the more annoying officers slipping on the general’s liquor and busting his ass. Although he knew it wasn’t polite, he thought it would be satisfying. Anything but being there would be satisfying, and what the hell was Kodak doing and where was he doing it?
“You’re him?” a sergeant setting down chairs asked him, as he stood off to one side.
“Him who?” Taz quizzed, feeling a bit less alone in the officers’ club.
“Tazerski. You were on the cover of Time. I saw you. You’re him,” he said, positive now that he’d taken a closer look.
“Yeah, I’m him,” Taz confessed. “Who am I again?”
“Come on, I haven’t seen this many officers since the President stopped to refuel on his way to Japan. You’re a hot ticket, Sergeant.”
“The President huh? I’m impressed.”
“Yeah, they all come out for the President. If we’d just collect them all and get them on a plane to Nam, this little police action would be over within a New York minute.”
“Make some room,” an officer snapped at the sergeant as a new line of officers came to shake Taz’s hand.
He couldn’t hide for long. Maybe if he’d started putting the chairs down with the other sergeant they’d have forgotten about him.
“See yea,” Taz said, as the sergeant moved away to continue setting down chairs for the officers.
Taz was no longer able to hold his smile in place. He settled for not scowling at the officers who passed him like he was some dish in the chow line they weren’t sure about. He yawned and moved to pour his new drink into a potted plant next to the bar. Its leaves were brown and ill shaped. He wondered if officers pissed there.
“Here you go, Sarge,” a guy with hairy arms said, as he slid a new drink in front of where Taz stood. “Don’t want you going dry on me. Proud to know you. I’m Kennimore. You need anything, you see me.”
“Hey, Kennimore. I’m driving. Can you make mine ginger ale? Just wrap it up like it’s booze but keep me in ginger ale and this soldier will be forever grateful.”
“Ginger ale? The army’s newest hero is a teetotaler? Who’d a thunk it?” Kennimore laughed as he did as Taz asked.
“No, I’m a drunk. Wouldn’t do to get loaded in this kind of crowd. I just got these here strips. I want to hang onto them for a few days. I don’t much care for this gig, but it beats the stockade.”
“You’re okay, Sarge. I figured you’d be one squared away dog face, but you’re okay.”
Taz kept an eye on the circus, thinking he was in the center ring. He smiled on demand and shook any hand shoved his way. He hoped there would be some elephants. He’d always liked elephants.
After a couple of hours rubbing shoulders with the big boys, the commanding general was escorting Taz back to his staff car and they took off with a line of cars close behind. The general made small talk with him, and the two other generals squeezed into the staff car beside the famous sergeant.
They turned up into a driveway that had a big flagpole in the center of where it curved around in front of the big brick building, and the car stopped at the main entrance.
The general led the way into the lobby with Taz right behind. Nurses braced in snappy postures as the general was recognized. When they saw Taz in tow, their heads leaned together as they giggled and fawned over his passage. This was excitement in their otherwise dull day.
It was the general who led the way into the ward and it was then that Taz perked up. These were guys back from Vietnam. These were the wounded he’d never wanted to see up close, after a battle. Taz was cautious in war. He didn’t think it was wise to get too close to death or dying, but here he felt safe. His war was over.
The general stopped to brag about who he had brought for a visit. When he turned to introduce Taz, he found him already leaning across the bed of one of the wounded, shaking his hand.
“How are you doing?” Taz asked with concern.
“Fine, Sarge. Do I know you? We don’t see many generals in here.”
“No, you don’t know me. I’m just here with the general. Might as well thank fellows like you for serving.”
“Who are you?” the soldier asked as he tried to smile, but was unsure of himself.
“No one in particular. I was in Nam a few days ago. I just flew here from there. They’re showing me around.”
“You heading back to the world, Sarge?” the soldier asked, anxious to hear it was so. “You aren’t going back there, are you?”
“I don’t know where I’m going,” Taz explained. “It isn’t my show. I just follow the general.”
“You must be something special or someone in a hell of a lot of trouble to be traveling with a general,” the soldier thought.
The general stood at the head of the ward and cleared his throat.
“I suppose most of you have heard about our distinguished visitor. I’d like to present you, Sgt. Tazerski,” the general introduced in a voice that made it sound good.
“Well, that’s me. I’ve got to go. Good luck, soldier.”
“Yeah, Sarge, thanks.”
In case the wounded didn’t know who the general had brought them, a crisp new copy of Time magazine with the picture of Taz on the cover was put down on each of the beds by the general’s aide.
“How are you guys?” Taz asked, as some of the soldiers looked at the cover of the magazine, realizing this was the guy on the cover.
“I just came back from over there a few days ago. I was luckier than you guys. You don’t know how glad I am to see all of you,” Taz said without the officers reading anything into it.
The officers once again found more interesting things to do as Taz became drawn to the soldiers they’d taken him to see. For them it was great publicity but for Taz it gave him something important to do. This part of it he didn’t mind.
Before he got to the second bed to talk to the wounded soldier there, the cameras showed up. The soldier he was talking to held up the magazine as Taz smiled and the picture was snapped. This was a keeper. The general got into the act and stood behind the magazine that was held up between the wounded soldier and Taz.
Taz thought of Kodak and felt a little sad.
This was the shot of the day. Each time Taz stopped at a bed, a magazine was held up between Taz and the wounded man. The general lost interest after two pictures with him in it. They were all smiles and everyone felt like they were part something special. Mostly it was nice to be alive to be part of anything. Taz was happy to shake every hand.
“You going to make sure these men get copies of those pictures?” Taz asked the photographer as he followed him between beds.
“No one said that to me,” the sergeant told him, looking mystified by the remark.
“See me?”
“Sure,” he said, not comprehending Taz’s meaning.
“I’m telling you. Make sure a copy of every one of those shots gets to the man in it. I don’t care what you do with the negatives or whatever prints you make for yourself. Just see to it these boys get copies.”
“Good as done, Sarge. I’ll have nice 8 x 10s on their bunks tomorrow before lunch. The general will want to see them anyway. I’ll just make extras.”
“What about frames? Something that’ll make them a nice keepsake?” Taz asked.
“I don’t know about that. There’s twenty-five guys in here.”
“See what you can do. I’ll round up some money for them. I want them to take something special back to the world with them besides the holes they got in Nam.”
“I’ll work on it, Sarge. I thought you might be a dickhead, but you’re a regular Joe, you know?” the photographer calculated with a smile.
“Yeah, that’s me. A regular Joe on the cover of Time, and I’m sure someone is rolling over in his grave about that one.”
This allowed Taz to put things in perspective. He didn’t want to be where he was but as long as he was here, he may as well do some good. Brightening the lives of the wounded was about the best thing he’d done since he left 1st squad. This part of the package he liked.
Each ward was just like the last. Some soldiers were still strung up to IVs that offered them healing fluids. Some were weak as babies and hardly knew he was there, but he stopped and spoke with every soldier. Others were energetic and lively and were happy to break the boredom, even if they had no idea who Taz was. Each man came with a sling, crutches, a wheelchair, or some other sign of their wound.
Taz talked, smiled, and happily shook each hand or stub. The general bird-dogged him for a time, smiling and shaking some hands himself, waiting for Taz to get his fill, and finally realized Taz intended to see every soldier in the hospital.
He left without his smile, telling his aide to call for his car once Taz was done. It wouldn’t do for the general to make a fuss in front of the wounded, but this upstart sergeant needed to be put in his place. How dare he make a general wait.
Soldiers gathered around Taz, having heard his legend by the time he got to the third ward. They were happy for the diversion in their routine days of playing cards, small talk, and rehabilitation.
In some wards they sat in groups of four and five with soldiers standing around the chairs as they joked and talked about their experiences in Vietnam. Some men talked of home and their desire to get there soon.
Taz never thought of going home, but it would be nice to get back to the world. He’d never seen anything outside of Arkansas, until he joined the army. Then it was army bases and Nam. He was going back to a world he’d never seen and knew nothing about.
Some soldiers ignored the chatting, wanting nothing to do with remembering any of it. Most were eager for the contact. They were bracing to go back home and integrate back into their lives. The missing parts would mean stares and inconveniences for those around them. Handsome boys worried their girlfriends would take one look and run screaming to parts unknown. This was where they waited before taking that final step back into their lives at home.
When it was time to eat, Taz ate with the men in the ward he was in. The general’s aide passed, waiting patiently at each door, when Taz went to the next ward. He reminded him the general had an evening meal planned. Taz nodded and smiled and left him standing in the doorway.
Taz’s hand was sore, his face perpetually drawn to smile by the time he was joking with the nurses on his way out with the general’s aide bringing up the rear.
“You come back and see us, Sgt. Tazerski,” a nurse giggled as he passed.
“If you don’t take care of those men I’ll be back to kick some serious butt,” Taz growled and the nurses giggled, excited by the hero in their midst.
The general’s car waited just outside the main doors. Taz held each door for the aide, who seemed confused by the courtesy. The car started as the driver saw the two men coming. Taz held the door to let the aide slide in first and he slid into the backseat beside him, resting his weary head back on the seat.
They turned out of the driveway and Taz had no idea what time it was. He felt lost and out of sorts, knowing what was coming. He didn’t know how much longer he could smile and shake hands. He needed a shower and a change of clothes and a nap, and a great big old club sandwich was on his mind as he sat silent.
“You can’t treat generals like the work for you, Sergeant. They are not men to be trifled with,” the aide revealed and the driver looked up into the rear view mirror. “Your smart move is to be pliable. A general’s turf is sacred and he alone rules. Don’t lock horns with Gen. Morse. He’s not a man to trifle with.”
Taz at first looked at the aide as he spoke. The driver kept looking up into the rear view mirror to see the men in the backseat. Taz watched the lush vegetation they were passing as the road was lined with beautiful palms and flowering plants of all colors and variety. It was a beautiful scene, but that wasn’t what Taz was thinking about.”
“My general’s bigger than your general, and your general don’t want to fuck with mine,” Taz said, remembering Gen. Walker and one of his final admonitions.
The officers’ club had been turned into a major parking lot as the dinner was scheduled to begin in less than an hour. Taz really wanted a break but knew he’d not get one today. He wasn’t hungry and he wasn’t in the mood to shake more hands.
As soon as they went inside the gathered audience closed in around them. This time the wives were accompanying the officers and being gracious was the only answer. No one seemed to mind Taz’s late arrival. They seemed glad to see him and were satisfied in no time. He was just a sergeant and officers’ wives didn’t seem to be that impressed with an ordinary sergeant. They were much more interest in hobnobbing with the other wives, comparing outfits, and imagined pending promotions for their husbands.
It didn’t take long for Gen. Morse’s aide to come for Taz, and he followed him into the back of the officer’s club where the door of an office was opened for him. The aide stood just inside the door as Taz found the general waiting for him.
“Sergeant, from this point forward, you do what I tell you to do and nothing more. When I say jump, you best jump if you know what’s good for you. I’m not used to being left standing, while a sergeant chats with other soldiers. I’m a general officer and I expect to be treated with respect. I don’t care on which magazine your picture appears. Do you catch my drift?”
“I’m in trouble, aren’t I,” Taz observed. “I sensed you were out of sorts back at the hospital.”
“Out of sorts? Out of sorts! I’m the commanding officer of this base. I don’t get out of sorts. I don’t like your tone. Insubordination isn’t going to be tolerated, soldier,” the general barked as the aide winced.
“Gen. Walker, you might know him, he is the big general in that Pacific Theater. He specifically told me, should I have any trouble, which I suspect I’m having here on your base, he told me I was to get in touch with him immediately and he’d straighten it out for me…., sir.”
The general looked as if he’d swallowed his tongue. His red hue turned a bit purple as he processed the sergeant’s words. The aide was unable to conceal his smirk and he wanted to laugh at the sergeant’s audacity. It was not how this general liked being talked to.
There was a certain power that came with being a commanding general. You were the ultimate power in your kingdom. There were certain hazards you avoided at all costs. One of these was for a general to never upset his general. Gen. Morse contemplated upsetting Gen. Walker, seeing no future in it. The sergeant was only here until tomorrow, and he could make allowances for a man just coming out of a war zone. It was the fair thing to do.
“I think you understand my position. We have a dinner to attend and then you’re expected in town at a function there. I’ve made arrangements for you to be hosted there and we’ll see you off tomorrow. I trust this is satisfactory?”
“Yes sir, anything you say, sir. I’m at your service,” Taz said with a most pleasant ring in the words.
Taz pulled his ace out of the hole because he was too tired to put up with a grumpy old general. This way they both kept their rank and no one was any worse for wear. He had little doubt that Gen. Walker would come to his aid if need be, but this didn’t require his attention.
Gen. Morse was soon beguiling the wives of his officers and they responded with giggles and wide-eyed fascination, knowing where their bread was buttered. The officers stood by silent, listening intently to the general’s words. It was crowded, polite, and the food was good, although Taz wasn’t hungry and poked at the food on his plate before pushing his plate away.
Once the meal was eaten, the guest of honor was escorted to the general’s car without ceremony. The aide looked in as Taz started his journey into town where the newspapermen had requested his presence once the army finished with him. It was an odd departure for a hero.
“You’re quite a guy, Sergeant. I thought you were probably more hype than substance. The way you handled Gen. Morse tells me there’s no doubt you’re a fighting fool. You make the most of what they give you, Sergeant. There are a lot of good men who look up to you. We want you to succeed. Good luck,” he said, shutting the door, and the car drove away.
Taz leaned his head back and was instantly asleep.
Unified
Taz was still confounded by his fame. Men like Gen. Morse made him want to return to Vietnam and forget the entire deal. Men like those he met at the hospital made him want to be a better man.
He was taken to Kodak’s hotel and Kodak came down to escort him to his room. The hotel would be happy to put him in a room near Kodak, but Kodak said that wouldn’t be necessary.
The general’s driver brought Taz’s bag up to the room, shook his hand, and wished him luck. The concierge backed from the room as soon as Taz and Kodak agreed he wasn’t needed.
“Where the hell have you been?” Kodak asked, throwing his arms around Taz and hugging him close.
“You don’t want to know,” Taz said “I met the biggest dickhead general I’ve ever known.”
“You’ve known a lot?” Kodak asked.
“Enough to know I don’t want to meet anymore. I need a shower. My ass is dragging. I hardly slept on the plane. I can’t believe they didn’t let me clean up.”
“That’s your man’s army. I’ve been stuck with newspapermen all day. Speaking of dickheads. They can’t wait to meet you.”
“Yeah, well, if I don’t get a shower, they won’t see me. I’m beat,” Taz said, yanking off his shoes and sitting on the second big bed in the room. “Nice quarters.”
“Yeah, there’s a fruit basket over there. There’s a dinner at nine. I’m sure you’re expected. They told me they’d be making arrangements to get you here as soon as they could get the army to give you up.”
“They ran me off,” Taz said. “I didn’t make any friends at the officers’ club. I don’t think they understood me.”
“What did you do?” Kodak asked.
“Nothing. It’s what they had me doing and then wanted me to stop doing, but I finished what I started, and I’m not sure they approved of that tactic.”
“I’m afraid to ask,” Kodak said.
“They took me to the hospital. The wounded from Nam who haven’t made it home yet. They were after photos of me meeting the wounded. They thought they’d make it a quick stop. I stayed and shook every soldier’s hand in the place, doctors and nurses too.
“I talked to the ones who wanted to talk. Some were massively messed up. These men wanted me to pay attention to them. No one has ever wanted me to pay attention to them,” Taz revealed. “I stayed as long as they wanted to talk to me.”
“I wouldn’t say that. I happen to know personally someone that wants you to pay attention to him,” Kodak smiled.
“They looked at me with these admiring looks. These were guys in serious despair before I arrived, and by the time I left, most of them were smiling and happy. They handed out those damn magazines. I don’t know where they could get so many Time magazines. The army must print them. I must have signed a hundred.”
“We’ve got most of the day tomorrow we can talk. You need to jump in the bath and catch a shave. I like this look personally, but there’s a dinner we need to attend in about an hour and a half. You need to freshen up, handsome.”
“What’s a bath? I haven’t had a bath since I was ten,” Taz said, “I’m kind of a shower guy, when I’m this tired.”
“No shower, soldier. You’ll just need to rough it.”
“I can’t swim.”
“I’ll be your lifeguard. I’ll get it ready for you. You’ll love it. They’ve got bubble bath and bath oil beads in there to make your skin soft and they have little soaps carved to look like tiny roses. I think they’re roses. Tell me what you think.”
Kodak examined the detail and showed the soap to Taz for inspection. He didn’t know what to make of soap someone took the time to carve into a flower.
“Just what a man wants to hear after a flight across the Pacific followed by a hard day’s work. ‘There ain’t no shower?’”
“No shower. Just the bathtub.”
“Okay, let me get out of this monkey suit.”
Kodak went in to prepare the bath and Taz was still in his socks and green army boxer shorts when he returned.
“It’s a swimming pool,” Taz observed. “All it needs is a diving board,” He continued, as he saw the tub almost full of water.
“Yeah, but it’s only four feet deep,” Kodak said. “I don’t think we’ll need the life vests.”
“I’d just need the low diving board then,” Taz said, stripping down and stepping into the tub which had been sunk into the bathroom floor. “Come on in, the water’s fine.”
Kodak stepped down into the tub, immediately feeling Taz’s hand reaching for his.
The water ran, the bubbles floated lavishly, and they were content to sit holding hands beneath the suds. The water rose to Taz’s square chin. Kodak’s delicate blushing shoulders protruded from the rich lather. Taz blew the bubbles away from his mouth. They were finally able to relax, knowing the other was safe.
Their thighs rested together as their fingers intertwined. Each took refuge in the other’s eyes. It was a relief being together again. Both had experienced fame as a single and didn’t like the taste it left in their mouth. They could keep doing it and do it believably, but only as a duo.
Kodak knew he could cut and run anytime he got tired of the zoo. He also was keenly aware that Taz could not run with him. He was under orders and, while he might be able to stretch the boundaries a bit, he’d best not test the patience of too many officers too many times. A frontal assault was not the only way to make a soldier’s life miserable.
Being together gave each a strength he didn’t possess alone. Caring about one another meant a larger consideration, no matter the situation. So far they’d been left alone to get the job done as it was prescribed by the US Army.
Taz understood he had value to the enlisted men and draftees. He didn’t give a damn about much but he found he cared about the other soldiers. Even more importantly, the other soldiers cared about him. They’d shown him more respect in an afternoon than he’d received in his lifetime. It was a mutual admiration society.
He avoided more than a casual glance and a fond farewell to his wounded comrades in 1st squad. He forced himself to do that, regarding it bad luck to dwell on what happened to a guy after he’d been hit.
Now, it was these soldiers he found himself drawn to. If this new found fame could do some good, he wanted to do it for them. This was duty he enjoyed.
Kodak was a journalist/photographer. He could walk away and write a book about his experience with war. No one would think ill of him if he said he was done and they’d need to send someone else to keep track of Taz’s tour. He could do that but he wouldn’t.
He wasn’t much concerned about the journalistic aspect of what he was doing. He could probably show up anywhere and get an interview for a job at a paper or even on television. His one word name would be recognized.
There was an open market on journalists who had seen the war up close, when the country was definitely questioning the wisdom involved in getting the country up to its knees in deep doo-doo in Vietnam. A book was a natural byproduct of his experience, although he wouldn’t write it until Taz was free of his obligation to the army. This way Kodak could write it the way he saw it without putting Taz at risk.
They’d endured a sudden harsh separation. Neither of them was prepared to be pulled apart. They’d both had a strong desire to be together the entire time they weren’t. They had no desire to be pulled apart again.
They weren’t certain this could be a reality they controlled, but it was a reality they would pursue. They’d have to make contingency plans for situations they couldn’t predict. Obviously the army could do anything they wanted with Taz. As long as he didn’t stray too far from the reservation, they’d probably be allowed to stay together.
*****
Landing in California was a relief to both of them. Kodak was home, even if Taz wasn’t. They were both relieved to be back in the States, because Hawaii didn’t seem much different from Vietnam. What was ahead couldn’t be predicted. It was probably going to be a lot like their last few stops. People couldn’t get enough of the pair and it was nice in a crazy sort of way.
The military ceremonies were conducted when the plane taxied over to the terminal, where soldiers and civilians applauded and cheered the deplaning. Even the air smelled better to Kodak.
Wearing one of his Hawaiian outfits, yellow on green, Kodak waved enthusiastically, which got the crowd to roar. Taz had removed his uniform and kept it hung up until just before they landed, when he put it back on. This had him looking sharp, even if he was thinking of a nice bath with lots of bubbles.
There was an official presentation of the colors at the bottom of the stairs of the plane. Taz spent a few minutes saluting superior officers, shaking hands, smiling for the cameras, and making his way to the enlisted men, who broke formation to surround him. Each had in mind sharing Taz’s hand.
There were no remarks and the press had a field day catching both Kodak and Taz by surprise. Kodak realized he needed to carry his camera to return the favor and photograph the photographers who were photographing him.
They yelled Kodak’s name and he ended up shaking each journalist’s hand as they quizzed him on how it felt to be home. Taz stayed close behind, shaking every hand Kodak shook. They weren’t planning on being separated this time.
“How does it feel, being back in America?” a voice thrusting forth a microphone yelled in his direction.
This was the signal to smile.
Kodak stopped as the microphone appeared in between two heads of men who secured a place in front.
“I don’t know. It’s great. Being here is great. I didn’t think much about it until I was here. It’s been hectic. It’s nothing like Vietnam.”
No, it wasn’t. Even though Kodak was only an observer, he’d seen enough to feel like he had been at war.
When he’d left the States to find out what war was, he thought he’d come back with an answer. He couldn’t put war into words. It was about men, people, ideology, and strategy, but how war began or how you stopped it was as big a mystery to Kodak as it was before he left.
There were army bases, marine bases, air force bases, and naval facilities all over California. For the first time Taz was not under the control of the army. He was freely flowing around the state, spending a few days in or near each facility. He’d be the guest of whatever city was closest, and he appeared at the pleasure of the civilian city fathers.
There were civilians who greeted the plane and, after a formal military service to greet the returning hero, the military presence was muted.
Taz was to be presented to the American people as a returning Vietnam war hero. Keeping the army out of the picture was a strategic decision. The American people were disillusioned and Taz was someone who could give a more acceptable look to the war.
It was at the airport that the second cover of Time magazine was shown to Taz & Kodak. It was a picture of Taz taken after the fire fight, while he reloaded the B.A.R. His arms were bulging, his eyes piercing and focused, with the caption, ‘Have you seen this man?’
He was America’s hero.
It was in response to the reports that Taz and Kodak had gone missing in the Vietnam jungle, after an ambush. There was an article that proclaimed him a hero, saving his squad, but most likely making the ultimate sacrifice, along with the heroic photographer who had been left behind as a wounded helicopter struggled to save the men and crew inside.
“Jesus,” Kodak said. “They do think you’re John Wayne.”
Unlike the first picture, you didn’t need to draw any conclusion about the man’s fighting skill the second time around. The story asked the question, “Have you seen this man?” describing his heroic deed and the fact he was MIA and presumed KIA, sacrificing his life to save his buddies.
Taz had not only saved his unit, he’d returned from the dead.
Time magazine received thousands of letters inquiring about Taz. There weren’t as many inquiring about the photographer who was missing with him, but many did ask the question, ‘Would the photographer be safe since he is a journalist?’ By the time the, “Have you seen this man?” picture appeared, Taz and Kodak were back in friendly hands.
It was a story that went around the world as fast as any story ever had. It was a miracle. It was a coincidence of all coincidences. It was a piece of the Vietnam saga that the American people could all agree on. There were no protests and there was no anger over the happy ending, except it was merely beginning for the pair.
This time Taz and Kodak were driven straightaway to their hotel. They no longer rated the Presidential or Honeymoon Suite, being given excellent accommodations in excellent hotels, but in California you never knew when a president or a honeymooning king might come calling, so you didn’t want a couple of nondescript youngsters occupying the most prestigious rooms.
And they didn’t notice any change after living in a tent. As long as they were alone and together, after closing the door of whatever room they were escorted to, they were happy. Their first response was to check the lock before engaging in a fond embrace, a kiss, and frequent hand holding, while reading telegrams and cards thanking them for their service to the nation.
Bouncing on the bed was routine and the two boys giggled a lot, happy for no reason at all. The first order of business was to mess up the second bed and forget it. Anytime the second bed was made up, they’d immediately give it a good going over, which got them laughing.
They knew they were under the microscope and being safe was better than giving the journalists more to talk about than their stumble through the jungle. They’d accepted the fame as necessary and manageable if they wanted to stay together, but the madness seem to be growing.
They were now a couple. It wasn’t only in the mind of the army or the media. All of the requests for appearances came asking for both Taz and Kodak. They attended functions together, even at the military bases. They each got significant applause when introduced to crowds. Both had been heroic even if not heroes, and who can say what a hero truly is?
The boys took the hand they were dealt and made the most of it. The first class treatment was great, the food was great, and the long endless flights merged into long endless train trips that would carry them up and back down the coast of California.
Kodak loved the scenery. He’d never seen the state from that angle before. Taz sat next to the window but was more interested in Kodak than the landscape. When Kodak leaned across him to click off a few pictures of some scene he saw, Taz might nibble on his ear or simply make sure at least one of Kodak’s hands got a good feel of his arousal.
It was after a visit to military bases in and around the San Diego area, some time in the second month of touring, that the long train trip to San Francisco was begun. The last stop before the trek into LA was Oceanside, a sleepy seaside town adjacent to a large marine presence in Southern California. They’d spent two days there at the beginning of the week before.
The train was soon in motion again, heading for all points north. The train moved along the cliffs above the Pacific Ocean. There was time for some great pictures and soft chat as Taz wore his uniform but Kodak stayed in his Hawaiian attire, blue on brown. The half full car was quiet, with the ocean view captivating much of the attention.
It was two marines one seat up and on the opposite side of the car that caused the trouble. Taz and Kodak were simply being Taz and Kodak. They didn’t make much of a fuss, being happy being together, but appearing to be happy being together wasn’t to everyone’s liking.
These were moments the two men cherished. The journalists didn’t trail them and they were free of close scrutiny until they reached the next stop on their tour, and by that time they were ready for another round of appearances and speaking engagements. They kept their smiles handy and were adjusting well to their roles.
Some scrutiny comes unexpectedly and without invitation at times.
“Fucking faggots,” a voice interjected just loud enough to be heard across the isle.
Taz rolled his face across Kodak’s shoulder, hearing the epithet and wanting to see from whence it came. His face didn’t display the rage the word was beginning to boil inside of him.
“Faggots.”
The second spitting of the single word condemnation had Taz up, across Kodak, and he was standing in the isle as the marine came out of his seat, looking for action. The two men stood chest to chest, staring. It was more chest to chin, and Taz was left looking up at the self-righteous six foot something marine.
“You mean me, Marine?” Taz ordered with his voice.
“If it fits you I mean you,” the marine barked into Taz’s face as both of them blew up like a couple of overweight bullfrogs.
“Taz,” Kodak interrupted, grabbing Taz’s forearm to break the engagement with the much bigger man.
“Brand,” was the retort of the marine’s companion.
“Can’t you see I’m working here,” Brandon answered, chest pressed hard against Taz as the two men continued to stare, ready to rock and roll.
“Taz,” Kodak said, loosening the grip on his forearm in case they came to blows.
The fourth man started rummaging in the gym bag he had between his legs on the floor. He seemed to be furiously looking for something and then, he found it.
“Brandon,” the second marine stated firmly.
“I told you to leave me alone. I’m busy with this punk,” Brandon said.
“You need to look at this,” his companion suggested.
“What?” Brandon snapped, looking back over his shoulder to see the cover of the Time magazine his friend held up for him to look at. “He’s him.”
“Shit you say. This little squirt? You are him,” the marine said surprised, as he checked Taz’s face. “You’re Sgt. Tazerski? You’re my hero, man. I don’t believe it. How you doing?”
There were handshakes and the marine was suddenly all smiles. The acrimony melted with the realization of the company the marines were keeping. There was laughter and a pen for Taz to sign the cover of the magazine.
Brandon bought sandwiches and beer in the dining car and the marines quizzed Taz on his time in Nam. They were going home to Fresno before shipping out to the war zone. Taz forgot the insult and felt a kinship, even though they were marines. He knew what they would face and that was enough for him to forgive the insult that brought them together. Kodak thought about Khe Sanh.
Warfare was a lot like riding a train. The skirmishes flared up unexpectedly and died down as quickly. The country was beautiful without enough time to appreciate it. The travel had become the best time, when friends were made, and the big battles were won.
The following day Kodak signed the magazine, leaving the marines smiling when they left the train for Fresno, as the boys went on to San Francisco.
An army staff car, photographers, and an officer waited to greet them before taking them to their hotel. The Presidio was the only base in the city but accommodations were in town where they’d have access to all the sights.
It was early in the morning, the streets were damp from an overnight rain, but the sky was blue and the temperatures about perfect. The air smelled fresh and the city was still half asleep as they ended up high in the city with a room that overlooked San Francisco Bay and Alcatraz. It was one more spectacular view on a tour of spectacular views.
Everyone was happy to see them. There was luncheon at the Presidio, dinner at the Mark Hopkins, and people at both who were anxious to hear the two speak. These were buttoned down and formal affairs that forced Kodak back into one of his finely tailored suits.
The staff car would pick them up and deliver them to each event. There was one last speaking engagement in two days and they’d depart the city the following Monday, a week away. It would be on to Portland, Seattle, Spokane, Salt Lake City, Las Vegas, and Phoenix. They both loved California but looked forward to seeing more of the country.
San Francisco was alive with activity. After walking to Fisherman’s Wharf for a sandwich, Taz wanted to escape up Powell Street, hoping on and off the cable car each time they passed a spot that excited him. He bought a short sleeve shirt and a pair of jeans in a second hand shop, leaving his uniform in the middle of the hill to be cleaned and pressed. It was the same uniform he always traveled in and it required a lot of attention. The other tailored uniforms were saved for appearances and cleaned and pressed at each stop.
Being in jeans, he liked the way they bound him and held his butt. The shirt outlined a more defined body than he’d had before leaving for Asia. The usual medium he always wore was snug, firmly outlining his chest and showing off his arms.
The appearances went smoothly. The routine was less stressful and their preparation was solid. Even nibbling at the food was perfected to an art, so they could have something they really wanted once back in the hotel. It seemed a small price to pay for the kind of freedom they had the majority of time.
The driver of the staff car offered to standby and take them any place they wanted to go, but they cut the driver loose so they could be on their own. It was on the day there was nothing to do that Taz sent his jeans and shirt to be laundered. He put on the fresh uniform from the Powell Street cleaners and felt at home in it. His pride in the uniform had only grown during the touring.
Being in civvies made him feel… out of uniform. He had adjusted to the military and he had nothing that wasn’t military by the time he left Vietnam. There was simply no place to go and no reason to be out of uniform, except in camp and in quarters.
It was a pleasant place. The rolling hills and smiling faces greeted them as they tackled the innards of the city. That’s when they found it.
“That’s it,” Kodak said happily.
“Really? What’s it?”
“Haight-Ashbury. See the sign?”
“Haight Street and Ashbury Street,” Taz read.
“This is Haight.”
“I don’t hate anyone,” Taz returned.
There was a change in the people who mingled about. They stood on corners, in between cars parked along the street, in doorways, and huddling in the middle of a sidewalk to talk. Most were brightly clad in the most outrageous of colors. It was a little like entering Oz.
The boys wore hair as long as the girls. Some were even prettier. They waved at passing cars that beeped. A hand shot into the air and without exception the one finger salute had become two in this place. The first two fingers formed a V as they held their palm outward and often yelled, “Peace.”
Taz thought this to be particularly peculiar. Why peace?
As they climbed to the top of the hill, there were more and more colorfully dressed kids for the most part. They all seemed to be in their middle or late teens with the exception of twenty something’s, with the men all wearing beards to accompany their long hair.
“Doesn’t anyone work?” Taz wondered aloud, walking around this gathering and that.
“They’re hippies,” Kodak explained, as if that should explain it all.
“Oh, I’ve heard about hippies. They’re weirder than I thought. Who dresses them?” Taz asked amazed.
“They’re non-conformist. Anti-establishment,” Kodak stressed.
“You can say that again. Weird too. Why are they all so happy? I’ve never seen so many happy people in one spot. Don’t they know there are rules. No happiness. It’s one of the first things I learned.”
“They’ve dropped out. No rules. Nothing to be unhappy about. It’s like a commune. They feed each other and if someone has a place to stay, they offer it to whoever wants to spend time inside. Mostly they prefer being outdoors together, when the weather cooperates.”
“They sure do. They’re really together up here,” Taz said as they looked across the street into Golden Gate Park where hundreds of people sat in small groups all over that end of the park.
Once they stepped into the park there was a change in the relaxed atmosphere. Many heads began to turn in their direction. Everyone was looking at Taz, his creases tight, shoes highly polished, tie perfectly tied, and his ribbons displayed on his dress uniform.
“It’s not you, Colonel. It’s your uniform,” a fellow seated near Taz’s feet revealed.
“What?” Taz said, looking down at the speaker.
It was one of the older faces. He wore silver wire rim glasses that peered out from between long blond hair that streamed down over his shoulders, down his back, and the hair around his glasses dropped down onto a brightly colored shirt. There were more colors than in a rainbow. There was an embroidered headband circling his head. It was navy blue with brightly colored flowers covering it. He wore pants that looked like jeans, but there were great streaks of yellow amongst the blue of the jeans, and splotches that were almost white but not quite.
“Baby killer,” a distant voice interjected into the scene.
“What did he say?” Taz said.
Kodak felt Taz’s forearm as it tensed with an uncoiled punch, as his fist reacted naturally to the ultimate insult.
“Hey, Colonel, relax. Don’t pay any attention to the children. They’ve got brothers over there. Some have brothers in the ground. They don’t understand the war but they are no threat to you.”
“Who the hell are you?” Taz snapped, feeling threatened, but he let his fist relax, sensing the threat had passed.
“Solomon, Colonel. We’re no threat to you,” he said, sensing Taz’s reaction. “We’re lovers, not fighters, friend. You are safe among us. Nothing but words for weapons here.”
“Safe here? You’re damn right I’m safe anywhere I go. I’m a sergeant in the US Army and I fight for you dudes,” Taz explained a bit too loudly and with an unexpected fervor in spite of where he was, perhaps because of it.
“If you’re fighting for me, Colonel, don’t. I don’t know anyone in Vietnam. I don’t want anyone dead in Vietnam. I especially don’t want you dead, friend,” Solomon explained softly as a dozen long haired teens stood to come to stand with the man who spoke of non-violence.
“I especially don’t want anyone here to go there to kill the Vietnamese. We have no desire to be in their country.”
The new arrivals nodded and spoke their agreement with his comments. They were very young.
“Here, friend. I want you to have this. You need it much more than I do. You’ll know what to do with it. You’ll feel what it is.”
The willowy man slipped a chain with a pendant the size of a silver dollar dominating it from around his neck. He slipped it gently over Taz’s head, while Taz watched the ceremony, not ready to read anything offensive into it. The man wasn’t anymore threatening than a small puppy. Taz was on his turf and decided to follow his customs. It was a curious charm. It was crude, handmade, and different, like Solomon.
He seemed sincere and without hostility, which couldn’t be said of all the youngsters who stood with him. They were a mixture of black and white, young and younger, and some wore peaceful expressions, while others looked hard on the uniformed man in their midst.
“What is it?” Taz asked, curious and not willing to insult the gift giver.
“This is a peace sign. I make them. They represent my desire to spread universal brotherhood and a gentle understanding between all people. You need to accept its power, friend.”
“Why do you think I need it?” Taz inquired, even more curious.
“I know things. I see things. I see your heart. It’s a good heart, friend. You are a good man who uses violence only when it is thrust upon you. Mislead perhaps, perhaps not. Perhaps I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know. Take this gift in the spirit in which I give it. We shall part in peace with my hope that one day we will all join in making peace in our universe, not war.
“When you find that you no longer need this gift, or perhaps the time will come you see someone who needs its power more than you, feel free to pass it along to share the power of peace this symbol will provide.
“All of us here are part of the same dream, friend. Join us. This is what I know and see. Peace be with you in your long journey.”
Taz looked at the hand made peace symbol. Its simplicity was obvious but there was a beauty in the design. Solomon flashed the peace sign as he turned to lead his entourage into the hippie horde.
Kodak returned the peace sign as he’d seen it issued. He watched the unusual man as people spoke his name, touched his hand as he passed, and always smiled with their faces turned up to the sun.
“What do you make of that?” Taz asked.
“Wise guy,” Kodak answered.
“Yeah, a regular wise guy all right. You think he was serious? You think this hunk of metal has magical powers?”
“What wasn’t serious? Seemed serious to me. Did you see how the kids reacted to him? Strange.”
“Me too. I wanted to punch someone there for a minute, but he did something to me. I don’t know what. You think this thing has power?” Taz asked, examining the gift.
“If you believe it does. What does it hurt? The sentiment is one I like. I’ve seen war and I like this a lot more. I love it. Look at them. They’re all… all… beautiful people.”
“Yeah, but you dress like them,” Taz said, looking at Kodak’s yellow on green outfit as bright as anything in the park. “You are like them… beautiful, you know.”
“I come in peace,” Kodak said blushing. “That’s about the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me, Taz. It’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”
They didn’t stay in the park. The looks weren’t threatening but they did express some alarm and apprehension by the lookers. Most were too young to know anything about war but they obviously associated Taz’s uniform with authority and unpleasantness. These were the young escaping authority and seeking their peaceful place. War was something they’d choose to avoid.
It was routinely bantered about that guys went to Canada to escape the draft. Most of the hippies were too young to worry about it, but they weren’t exactly what the army was looking for either. You can force guys into uniform. You can send them to Vietnam. Making warriors out of them was another matter.
The walk away from Golden Gate Park came with far more notice than the walk in. The uniform brought long hard looks, stares of recognition and then concern. Taz did his best not to allow these youngsters to upset him. He calculated most were fifteen or sixteen, and he remembered being seventeen, when he first put on his uniform. He thought these kids looked far too young for war and he wondered if he’d been too young.
“Look at that,” Kodak said. “You ever seen anything like it?”
The Volkswagen bus was multi-colored, flowered, and ablaze in stars and the Milky Way. Taz and Kodak stopped to take a close-up look, and a tall lean young man stepped out of the back, blocking any view they might get of the inside.
“Move along, soldier. You din’t lose nothin’ here,” the frail looking lad observed.
“We were just admiring the VW,” Kodak said, smelling the acrid smoke as it drifted out of the wide open door that gave access to the back of the bus.
“He’s cool, Comanche. Look, he’s wearing a peace symbol,” a young girl explained as she hopped from the back of the VW. “You been there, friend?”
“Just came back from there.”
“Where’d you get the peace symbol,” Comanche inquired, losing his tough edge.
“Solomon,” Taz said, seeing the boy go from surly to sad.
“I got a brother over there, you know,” Comanche said.
“Where?” came Taz’s easy reply.
“Central Highlands. Haven’t heard a word in over a month. I want to see him so bad. We never got along, you know? I wouldn’t even mind if he kicked my ass. I’d like to know he’s safe.”
“What if I’d been him? Looking for you, say. I came down the block in my uniform and some other guy jumps out of the VW. He says, ‘Move along soldier’ to me, but you were in the back and didn’t look out. I didn’t look in, and so I didn’t know we were a few feet away from one another, and so I walked on and we never got to see each other. What about that? Do you really want to turn away every soldier, son?”
Taz wished to make his point in an imagery even a fifteen-year-old boy might understand. He wasn’t the army and he wasn’t the war. It was okay for the kids to hate both, but hating him was out of line. He was doing a job and got no say in the matter. He wanted this kid to understand that. It was important to him. If they needed someone to blame they’d need to start by looking beyond his uniform.
Comanche stared into Taz’s face. His eyes filled with tears. They ran like rain. The boy sobbed. He put his arms around Taz and blubbered on his shoulder. Taz looked at Kodak for instruction, but found a dumbfounded look to match his own. Taz put his arms around the splinter of a boy, who was even thinner than he looked.
“It’s okay,” Taz said. “The mail is slow in combat zones. They don’t get it out too often. They don’t want to risk it. Your brother’s probably fine and they have a letter at home from him by now.”
“You think so?” Comanche said, standing up tall and wiping his tears with the back of his hands, first one and then the other.
“Sure thing,” Taz reassured him with a smile. “I just wanted you to think of me as a person. A soldier like your brother. I’m not that different from your brother. We’re in the army. We aren’t the army.”
“I know,” Comanche said. “I’m sorry. You want some weed? It’s some really good shit.”
“No,” Taz laughed. “I don’t think I need any of that.”
“You’re okay,” Comanche observed. “I like you.”
He smiled through the tears that still ran on his cheeks. He had pimples and his front right tooth was chipped. He had a cleft chin and vividly blue eyes.
“You’re okay, too, Comanche. Just remember we’re people too. Your brother will be okay.”
“Yes, sir,” Comanche said, becoming formal as he felt Taz’s authority and responded to it like a young man in school.
“I know you,” the little girl said. “I’ve seen you somewhere before. What’s your name?”
“No, I don’t think I’ve ever been there,” Taz said, looking to make a getaway before someone came up with a copy of Time magazine.
Kodak started moving further down the hill on which they’d found the colorful VW bus.
“Can I see you again? I know how to show a fellow a good time,” the girl bragged.
“Sharon,” Comanche blurted. “You’re my girl.”
“I could be his girl too,” she said, standing boldly, hands on hips as Taz and Kodak laughed as they put distance between them and certain danger.
The only places where they’d stopped to sample a new kind of gathering, they had been met with hostility. They parted with some understanding for the sentiment of the fresh boyish faces and their starry-eyed girls, still looking for a few good men.
Taz hadn’t thought that much about going to Vietnam, except he knew he’d die there. This was the attraction for him. Suicide by war sounded simple. With men dying, bullets flying, and bombers dropping bombs, dying should be easy, he’d thought, but he hadn’t lived.
Taz had nothing to live for and so dying seemed like a good idea, but war is unpredictable, a lot like life. He’d met someone who made life interesting enough for Taz to want to take a shot at living.
Two very different lives cross paths and form an unbreakable bond. Like war, love is unpredictable. The chemistry is a mystery. Two elements combine, forming a compound that’s so strong bullets and bombs can’t pull them apart.
Taz and Kodak have survived war. What remains to be seen is if they can survive a culture that hates men who love each other.
Around America
The travel was exciting before it became routine, before it became redundant, before it became boring. Seeing the country from a train wasn’t bad. It was a good country. It was tall and it was wide, but mostly it was long.
There was Portland, Seattle, Spokane, Salt Lake City, Las Vegas, and then Phoenix. There was a week to a city in the big cities and two or three days in the towns in between. Some of the motels were less ostentatious out in the small towns, but every where they went, the motorcades sped from point A to point B, passing quickly past the points of interest to get them to an event on time.
The too busy mayors without connections handed over the cities’ keys and left the luncheon early. This left Taz and Kodak with constant heartburn and time on their hands, and they remembered to make a mental note of something they wanted to get a closer look at, once they were off duty.
Some motels had no dining room. They spent time exploring for local dining delights, often ending up at a fast food eatery.
The trains rolled on with Taz always sitting next to the window, looking out. He no longer wore his uniform between stops. At first it was all he wore, but they were hard to maintain week in and week out. Saving them for appearances seemed smart. Taz’s jeans and T-shirts felt plenty comfortable.
The temperatures in the train were comfortable but it might be 55 or 110 outside. Taz was accustomed to the heat of Vietnam and the cool weather made him smile.
Kodak was in a constant state of change. He had enough shirts and shorts to work his way through the entire country a couple of times. Jeans and T-shirts were most comfortable to him on the train. He saved the colorful attire for appearances.
The boys had attained an equal amount of fame by the time they made it to Texas. They were well aware of one another’s presence, and Taz usually started out and was the star of the show. He knew what look to give Kodak to get him up to the microphone, moving the conversation from war to picture taking in a war zone.
Both sides of their story were fascinating to the audiences who lined up to get seats, hours before an appearance. There were army honor guards at each stop, and newspaper executives who came to honor their man as well.
The best times were the times they spent away from the crowds. They were so recognizable by virtue of what they wore on stage that almost no one recognized them in every day clothes. They took to calling one another T and K, after drawing attention to themselves when they used each other’s names. There weren’t many men called Taz or Kodak.
They spoke to soldiers and college students. They were sponsored by the National Chamber of Commerce and the Daughters of the American Revolution. They learned a neutrality speak, offending no one, and getting applause from almost everyone. They were the goodwill ambassadors for the Vietnam War.
It was on their second day in San Antonio, after touring the Alamo, the word came. Their presence was requested in Washington DC. They would stop in Houston, Austin, Dallas-Fort Worth, St Louis, Chicago, Detroit, and Cleveland, before going on to the Capitol City.
“Why Washington? We’ve been in every podunk town between here and Vietnam and after another month they want us in Washington?” Taz pondered. “I’ll be up for discharge soon. Maybe they want me while they can still tell me what to do.”
“It’s Washington. They’re politicians. Someone decided we weren’t going to embarrass them. You aren’t going to sign up for another tour? You can name your own price, soldier.”
“I got to get off this train. I don’t know what I’ll do. I didn’t expect to be alive.”
“That does complicate things. We’ve been at this over three months. Now they want to see you in DC. Your star is rising.”
“Us,” Taz corrected. “Our star. We’re a team. Seems like a year.”
“I’ve got a feeling Washington will be about you. They don’t care so much about a picture taker. I’m part of the press, you know.”
“You’re part of Taz and Kodak is what I know. I got nothing without you. Promise me you won’t leave me alone with those people?”
“I’m the enemy, Taz, since Cronkite declared the war a stalemate. The press is losing the war.”
“Walter did that? Shame on him. He lose his script?”
“Yes, he did, and it’s not popular being a member of the fourth estate in DC. This is where the wars are thought up and they don’t like questions.”
“Walter Cronkite went to Vietnam?”
“Yes he did.”
“He didn’t come see me,” Taz lamented.
“He was busy, babe.”
“So was I but I’d a made time for Walter.”
Washington was a city of monuments. Union Station itself was right out of the last century. The waiting room was huge, and the ceiling must have been a hundred feet high, Taz thought, staring up into something that looked like a dome.
The green staff car was parked at the curb when they emerged from the train station. A major stood holding the rear door open for them.
“Oh, great, we’ve got officers in charge again,” Taz said cynically, throwing a deliberate salute at the major, ignoring his smile.
“Sgt. Tazerski. I’m Major Costello. I’ll be handling your affairs while you’re in the Nation’s Capitol. Welcome to Washington,” he said with pride.
“Thanks. Kodak, Major Abbott,” Taz couldn’t resist getting in a jab.
His military manners had begun to erode.
“Costello,” the major corrected in sharply aimed words. “You’d be Mr. Anderson?”
“Kodak,” Kodak said warmly, giving a half salute that may have been a wave.
“Kodak takes care of all my… affairs. Give him the details and he’ll make sure I’m ready when I’m supposed to be ready.”
“We’ll be taking you to the hotel first. I’ll see to it your bags get to you right away, Sergeant. I’ve arranged for adjoining rooms. There is a 1 pm meeting with the general officers at Ft. Belvoir. I’m sorry about that. They’re in the middle of a reorganization of the war effort. This is the time they had available. They feel obligated to receive you on your first day.
“You’ll have lunch there. You will be meeting with Senator Dirksen late this afternoon. He may ask you to appear in front of his committee in the senate. Try to make a good impression. The man usually gets his way on military matters and we wouldn’t want to anger the Senator.”
“Lovely,” Taz said, hanging on to the cloth strap that hung from the ceiling. “What do I call him?”
“Senator Dirksen. His name is Everett, but I wouldn’t call him that unless he tells you to.”
“Kodak, you remembering all this?”
“Mr. ah… Kodak won’t be accompanying you to meet the Senator. He wants to speak to you, not the press.”
“He’s the one that keeps me on an even keel. I don’t function well without him.”
“You’ll have to find a way, Sergeant. You’re dealing with people who tell you the way it’s going to be. I don’t get much say in the matter. I’ve got the schedule and I suggest you memorize it.”
“Yes, sir,” Taz said without enthusiasm, taking several sheets of paper from the major and handing them to Kodak.
“You might want to rest up, get a shower, and I’ll call you from the desk when we come back for you. You do have your uniforms ready?”
“Yeah, they’re in my suitcase. I’ve got two that need attention. It sounds like I’m going to need them.”
“Get them together and I’ll send someone up to take them to be dry cleaned and pressed. Put your shoes outside the door. We’ll get them shined. You know how the generals like their spit and polish.
“Oh, Gen. Walker is in town. He’ll call you at the hotel to make arrangements to get together. He said I should take care of you. I’m not here to obstruct your routine, Sergeant. I’ll be of whatever service I can be if you cooperate. If you don’t, I don’t have much to say about it. You are a celebrity and even the military is going to bend over backwards for you. Those are my orders and if you meet me just a little bit of the way, I’ll make it as easy on you as I can. Tell me what you want and I’ll take care of it if it isn’t in conflict with my orders.”
“Thank you, Major…Costello. I appreciate it. Kodak does take care of the details. I can’t find my ass with both hands. Once he points me in the right direction, I do okay.”
“Very good. I’ll run everything past Mr. Kodak if you like. He can take it from there. You’ve got to stay on schedule, but don’t expect anyone else to be on schedule. This is Washington. Hurry up and wait. You’ll recognize the syndrome. Just smile and be polite and you’ll be fine.”
“Yes, sir, I recognize that,” Taz said, as they turned onto Pennsylvania Avenue passing close to the Capitol Building.
All eyes turned to see its majesty.
The hotel was up toward the White House, and Major Costello got out with them as the staff car sat at the front entrance. Once inside, the major got the keys for the two rooms and escorted the boys until he had opened both doors. There was a door that opened between the two rooms, where the boys met.
The boys settled into what was going to be a long stay. When you live on the road, it wears you down. They checked the beds for comfort and Taz sat reading the menu, already planning his in between meal meals. If there was anything he’d learned, it was don’t eat the rubber chicken.
Taz barely had time for a shower before going to his first meeting. They’d arrived in DC shortly after dawn and it was going to be a long day. Gen. Walker wasn’t at the meeting at Fort Belvoir. It was another meeting over cigars and drinks. Taz was a war hero and deserving of first class treatment. While generals maintain a certain remoteness from their enlisted men, they couldn’t hide their enthusiasm over meeting Taz.
No questions were asked that he hadn’t answered a hundred times before. There was nothing original, no pointed questions, and nothing to keep Taz from yawning into his hand often.
There would be a dinner in his honor. All the wives would be there. He should ask his photographer, Kodak, to attend. It would be catered and require formal attire, so the wives had a reason to get into their best dresses, bought new for the occasion.
Kodak was always a welcome addition. Especially the wives gravitated to him, having plenty of soldiers already in their lives. A journalist whose picture appeared on the cover of Time was a novelty. Kodak handled wives well with his charm and intellect. He’d learned to think fast and curb his irreverent humor in officers’ country.
Taz was full of ginger ale after the first meeting and had to pee before he could meet the major for his trip to Capitol Hill.
“Be polite. Be brief and respectful when answering Sen. Dirksen’s questions. He is a powerful man, so you might want to curb your humor. Make sure he knows I control your schedule. I’ll be out here waiting for you to finish. He may want you to do a dinner with him and a few hundred of his closest friends,” Major Costello advised. “I’ve made sure you have a few evenings free, so clear anything he asks you to do through me.”
“Yes, sir. Where’s Gen. Walker?” Taz asked as he waited to be summoned by the senator.
“He’s meeting with the Joint Chiefs today. He’ll probably be at the Pentagon all day if not all week. He may leave a message for you. He’s staying with friends in Chevy Chase. Make sure he checks with me before planning anything with you. I can’t stress this enough. We don’t want to upset anyone by over-scheduling you.”
Ten minutes passed before Taz was escorted into the senator’s office. About the time he was getting comfortable, the senator was called to the senate floor for a vote.
Major Costello drove with Taz back to the hotel to end his official duties that day. When Taz entered his room he found Kodak asleep on his bed.
“How’d it go?” Kodak asked, as he heard the door close.
“Too much ginger ale. I got to pee. It was more of the same. Dirksen had to go vote and I got off easy. He spent a lot of time thinking about my answers to his questions. He mostly asked about our touring the country. He’s got this weird voice.”
The first day’s business was done and Kodak ordered club sandwiches as Taz showered. Major Costello called to confirm the next day’s schedule. None of the governmental or military events required Kodak.
“I guess I’ll stay here and watch soap operas,” Kodak said, chewing on his sandwich.
“You can come with me to the Pentagon. We’ll hold hands and I’ll bring my peace symbol.”
“That’ll impress the officers,” Kodak said. “No, I’m not in the military.”
“I’m not much without you, babe. I’m not ashamed of it. If they ask me, I’ll tell them.”
“We’ve got a good gig and you might be able to convince them that Walter is right,” Kodak said.
“Is he?” Taz asked.
They ate and watched WTOP which led to the evening news with Walter Cronkite. There were two stories on Vietnam. They were both about the Vietnamese. Taz changed the channels until he stumbled onto ‘The Andy Griffith Show.’
The phone rang.
“Sgt. Tazerski. What’s up, doc?”
“Yes, sir. Thank you. Do I know you? Mr. Bradley? No, don’t ring no bell. Oh, you want Kodak? Tell him you’re the editor of the Washington Post? Why didn’t you say so? I’ll go get him for you,” Taz said, handing the phone to Kodak, who lay on the bed beside him.
Kodak jumped up in a flash, going all the way around the bed to take the phone.
“Hello, this is Paul Anderson. Yes, sir. Yes, sir. I sure will. I’ll ask him. Thank you very much. I’ll be there. What do I wear?”
Kodak hung up the phone with a far away look in his eyes.
“What’s up, doc?”
“That was the editor of the Washington Post. Margaret Graham, the owner, wants me at her dinner party Wednesday night. You’re invited.”
“Oh, I am. I’ve never met an editor before. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who owned anything either. Maybe there will be some silver we can steal.”
“Don’t be silly. You’re the star of this show.”
“Not that show. Those are paper people. You’re a paper person. You’re the star of their show. I’d stand out like a sore thumb.”
“My love, you stand out like the man you are, and wherever I goeth, you goeth also.”
“Mr. Anderson. May I speak to Mr. Anderson,” Taz imitated in a deeper voice than his own. “I almost told him he had the wrong room. You know that dude?”
“I don’t know anyone, Taz. I went from my freshman year at Berkeley to Vietnam. That’s all my newspaper experience besides journalism courses.”
“You had newspaper guys fussing with you in Honolulu, LA, Seattle, as I recall.”
“I took a picture they’ve all seen. The picture is of you, babe. You’re still the star.”
“You got all the talent in this family. I’m good at shooting stuff. I bet there ain’t even anyone worth shooting at that kind of an affair.”
“You going to come with me? Please. I’m already tired of being away from you, and it’s only been for one afternoon.”
“Yes, if Major Costello don’t come up with some other thing for me to be doing. I don’t exactly get much say in the matter.”
“You don’t really wear that peace symbol when we go out do you?” Kodak asked, looking at the symbol hanging down on his bare chest.
“Yes, I wear it under my T-shirt. It’s neat. It makes me feel peaceful. I haven’t wanted to shoot anyone all day.”
“You could get hit by a bus. You never know what can happen while you’re out there roaming around. How would it look if it was discovered America’s war hero wears a peace symbol?”
“It might look like because I fought a war don’t mean I liked it.”
“Hope this room isn’t bugged. You’re a regular left winger. You seemed so normal this morning,” Kodak observed with a smile.
“Yeah, times they are a changing, babe. I’m not even twenty yet, Kodak. I’ve gone to war and I’ve killed folks. How am I suppose to feel about that?”
“I don’t know. I never gave it a thought.”
“This peace symbol puts things into perspective. I believe in peace. I’m willing to fight for it.”
“You’re something, my love. I saw you fight. You’re amazing. The idea you didn’t like it is the most amazing part. It helps me to understand you, Why you were so distant.”
“It does? Maybe you’ll explain me to me one day. I’ll get you to read me what you write in those notebooks.”
“That’s our future, babe,” Kodak assured him.
“How’s that?”
“Once all this is craziness is over and no one cares who we are, I’ll publish the book that tells the story from beginning to end.”
“You aren’t going to tell anyone I wear a peace symbol?”
“I’m going to tell everyone.”
“Good,” Taz said with a smile. “That’s cool.”
“I want to let them know what a sweetheart you are.”
“Maybe you ought to leave that part out. The idea of being in Leavenworth for the next ten years doesn’t sound all that hot.”
“You are a good person, Tazerski. I want everyone to know you’re more than a uniform and a big rifle.”
“Yes, I am.”
“You’re a wonderful guy, Tazerski.”
“Yes, I am, aren’t I? Damn lucky I let you hang around me, huh?”
“Yes, it is,” Kodak agreed, as he leaned to kiss Taz on the cheek. “Just the same, don’t let the Pentagon types get a gander of your peace symbol.”
“Kodak, you’re the only one who can get my clothes off in the daytime. I don’t plan to be doing no stripping for the Joint Chiefs. I’m not that kind of a boy.”
Kodak scooted down on Taz’s side of the bed, cuddling up close to his friend.
Doing DC
The following day Kodak met with Ben Bradley at Katherine Graham’s journalist dinner. He wore his charcoal gray suit. The people he was introduced to were formal, polite, and well-mannered. A story with Kodak’s comments in quotes appeared on the front page of the Washington Post the following morning. Right beside it was the story of Taz attending an army banquet near the Pentagon.
While Kodak had been noncommittal on questions about the war, each of his comments appeared in a story about the newest celebrities making the rounds in DC. Taz laughed when he read it, Major Costello cringed when he read it, and people began to recognize both Taz and Kodak on sight in the Capitol City.
There would be a congressional reception for the pair a week later and before that they expected they’d meet everyone who was anyone in DC.
The schedule began to fill up the boys spare time. In Washington everyone wanted to be seen with the pair. Kodak was wined and dined by reporters, newspaper executives, and congressmen. All wanted to be photographed with the photo-journalist who captured the image that captivated a nation.
*****
Taz was led into a large room decorated in a fine dark shiny wood. The flags of the country and each military service stood in stands behind a lighter colored desk that wrapped around half the room and allowed the most important generals and admirals to be seated behind it as they faced whoever it was that appeared before them.
One of the officers was Gen. Walker, but there was nothing more than a nod in recognition. Taz sat alone at a table at the center of it all as the final officers came in to take their seats,
This was unique in his experiences. Up until his appearance at the Pentagon, it was relatively informal. These men took his presence far more seriously and wanted answers to questions about his experience with fighting the Viet Cong.
He skipped the stock answers he’d been developing since his first appearance in front of an audience. He’d met with officers all over the country in officers’ clubs and bars. He listened to the questions carefully and answered them as completely as he could.
Even at the Pentagon he enjoyed celebrity and the questions mostly required Taz’s opinion. He was smart enough to be brief and concise. The general staff had been playing musical chairs since Nixon brought his ‘secret plan’ to end the war to the White House. So far no one knew what the plan might be and while they waited, having Sgt. Tazerski for lunch was a popular idea.
Taz agreed his goodwill tour was important in bringing people out to support one of the warriors who fought the war. No one disagreed or was disagreeable as they listened and smiled. The debriefing lasted two hours and some minutes as most generals asked a question or two.
Once they were ready to call it a day, they thanked Taz for coming and asked him to stay for a few minutes to chat casually with his superiors. Taz wanted to speak to Gen. Walker and wasn’t sure he hadn’t done something to displease him. He’d been in town most of two weeks and hadn’t heard from him. Major Costello couldn’t tell him why.
The sight of a couple of dozen generals and admirals applauding his performance was unnerving. This was a difficult crowd at best and having them applaud did nothing to comfort him.
“You are a lucky lad. The Lord was obviously with you out there, son,” Gen. Gallagher spoke loudly.
“No, sir, just 1st squad,” Taz said, knowing who had his back.
“A sense of humor too. After what you’ve been through that’s a mighty fine character trait. We’re all proud of you, son,” he said, as other generals pushed closer and Taz stretched to find Gen. Walker.
“Is Gen. Walker still here?” he asked the next happy hand shaker.
“Oh, Walker, he’s meeting with his general staff. Half the boys here are in his command. With Westmoreland leaving, there’s a new ball game. Gen. Walker has to keep his Asia Command lean and mean.”
“I’ve been on the road for a few months. I didn’t know any of that.”
“Yes you have, and representing us well, Sergeant. We are proud of you. You’re the face on this war and Lord knows we’ve had nothing but a sour face for some time,” Gen. Wood observed. “Yours is a big improvement.”
Taz thought of finding out where Gen. Walker was holding his meetings, deciding if the general wanted him he’d send for him. It was his only disappointment in Washington.
“We have some officers heading for Walter Reed. Do you want to accompany us to the hospital? We like chatting with our boys over there when time allows,” Gen. Summers said.
“Yes, sir, I’d like that. I could be one of them,” Taz said with certainty.
“Oh, yes, The General wants you to take his driver, Kendall. He’s dying to go somewhere. You’ll like him. Fine fellow. He’ll see to it you get to the congressional reception tonight. You and your photographer friend are guests of honor, I believe.”
“Yes, sir, I think we are. I prefer the hospital,” Taz confessed.
“Good for you, son. Nothing but stuffed shirts go to those affairs. Very official, very formal, with tons of hot air. They take themselves very seriously. They hold the purse for this war and we’re depending on that beautiful smile of yours to open it so we win this war. They’re suckers for big smiles. We’ve got a lot riding on yours, son.”
Taz greeted Kendall warmly and felt a connection to Gen. Walker as they drove the twenty minutes to Walter Reed Hospital. He thought over what Gen. Summers said to him. He quizzed Kendall on how Gen. Walker was doing.
The hospital reminded Taz of a college campus. There were guys roaming around in blue army hospital issue with various kinds of wounds, some apparent and some invisible.
There was a cluster of generals and their aides at the front entrance. Hospital staff came to greet them. Taz followed the commotion and blended in with the general disruption. No one noticed a sergeant, even a prim and proper one.
There were ambulatory soldiers who stood at an abbreviated attention, not sure of the protocol that came with a dozen high ranking officers, who came to chat.
There was laughter and a loud general chatter that held the uncomfortable looking wounded in place, trying to look properly pleased but not too much so.
Taz made the first right turn where he saw walking wounded moving in and out of a doorway.
Reaching the first door, he slipped inside and began greeting the bedridden soldiers first. It took less than five minutes for other soldiers to gather around and guys came from other rooms, once they heard Sgt. Tazerski was in the hospital.
Unlike with the generals, Taz was at home with the troops. This was the part of his duty that he liked most. Nurses came to protest the insurrection and then came back with copies of Time for Taz to sign.
Each week there was more chaos that went with his presence among the wounded. It was easy to go in, make a speech, and disappear before anyone could corner him, but at a place like Walter Reed he was forced to face the war and its real cost. As much as he wanted to be there with the men, he knew, ‘There but for the grace of God go I.’ This had him feeling he was a fraud.”
Once in a military hospital, Taz was determined to visit each room and speak to each man who would allow it. He felt it his duty more keenly than any other duties assigned. His hand at times grew sore and his jaws tight from the constant shaking and smiling.
Taz accepted food in each wing of the hospital and when the men weren’t sharing food from their trays, the nurses were bringing him sodas and chips. It was a rare day when everyone forgot their troubles.
Taz got a lift from being among the men. Many were only a few days out of Nam. They weren’t without experience with high powered visitors, but none were welcomed the way their own hero was welcomed. Some soldiers followed Taz as he progressed through the hospital. More copies of Time appeared, some dog-eared, and Taz signed them with a smile.
Some soldiers were more seriously wounded than others. Some had been seriously wounded but were well on their way to healing. Others weren’t so lucky. There was the depression, the loneliness, and the question of what was left of their lives. Taz reached out to each one, shaking and smiling.
For today they were all delighted to have a diversion. The monotony of a daily routine was lost in the excitement. No matter how serious the wound, a smile never hurt and laughter proved to be good medicine. His job was to cheer them up.
After a short stop at a nursing station, Taz was pointed toward a men’s room down the nearest hallway.
“You need any help, Sergeant?” one nurse asked.
“Delilah, you hussy,” one nurse chided.
The three of them laughed at the idea of helping the young stud soldier.
Taz leaned on the sink and stared at his face. His life seemed like a dream. He looked so young. He felt so old. He didn’t know what his life would be like when he took his discharge. The time wasn’t far off now. He had decided not to reenlist. In a year and nine months he hadn’t taken a single day of leave. He had nowhere to go. As he looked at himself, he still had nowhere to go.
It was a daunting proposition. There were few calls for machine gunners or former soldiers that were willing to talk about a war everyone hated.
He straightened his uniform one final time and was grateful none of the soldiers had followed him into the men’s room. He took one deep breath, put the smile back on his face, and headed for the door.
As he started up the hall, there was a half open door on his right. Inside was a single bed, a single soldier, and lots of tubes and beeping machines. Taz stepped inside the door to look at the half naked soldier bandaged from his chest to his groin.
“You can’t be in here,” a nurse whispered as she forced her way in past him.
“Dave? That you?” the boy’s weak voice asked, barely audible above the sound of the machines.
“Yeah, it’s me,” Taz said, sensing the need for Dave in the kid’s voice.
“What’s his name?”
“Charlie. He was called, Charlie.”
“I couldn’t stay away once I knew you were here,” Taz said.
“I knew you’d come. I knew it. I could always depend on you, Dave.”
“Yeah, you can depend on me.”
“You can’t stay in here, Sergeant. He’s dying. There’s nothing that can be done but let him rest quietly.”
“Then I can’t hurt him can I?” Taz said, moving a chair next to the bed.
“Damn it’s so nice hearing your voice. I knew you’d come, you know. I was just thinking about you, Dave, and here you are. I wanted to tell you that you were right. I shouldn’t have joined. I should have listened to you. You are always right, you know. Now look at me.”
“How are you?” Taz asked.
“Oh, I’m a mess. I hurt in my stomach. I can hardly see anything. They tell me it’s the drugs. I feel like shit, Dave. I should have listened to your ass. You’re always right, you know.”
Taz sat holding the soldiers hand. Charlie talked and filled in all the pieces for Taz but he did most of the talking. He had a lot to say to his friend and he was almost happy as he let the words flow. It was sad, but Taz was glad to be of service to another soldier, even if it meant helping him die.
“Sergeant, you can’t be in here,” a doctor said in his most official voice, as the nurse stood obediently beside him with an, I told you so look on her face.
“I’m staying. What happened to him?”
“Mortar fire. A Shau Valley as I understand. His platoon got ambushed.”
“That’s over by Laos, isn’t it?” Taz asked.
“Yes, it is. There’s a hell of a battle brewing. These aren’t the first casualties we’ve seen from that area.”
“He’s bad?”
“They put him back together over there. After nine operations his organs are failing. He’s bleeding internally. We don’t dare open him up again. It’s only a matter of time.”
“He looks so young,” Taz said wistfully, looking at the smooth boyish face. “Isn’t there some chance?”
“He won’t last out the afternoon. The nurses are keeping an eye on him. You don’t need to bother staying. There’s nothing you can do.”
“It’s no bother. He looks like a little boy. How old is he?” Taz tried again.
The doctor had no answer. He picked up the chart. His dark eyes studied the chart to find the proper line.
“Eighteen. Just eighteen,” the doctor said, seeming to be struck sad by what he said.
“Thanks. I’ll sit with him,” Taz said.
The determination was obvious in his voice. The doctor didn’t know who Taz was and he didn’t care. Why should he object to an act of kindness?
Taz turned to listen to Charlie chattering away. He had a lot to tell his friend and you could sense in his voice he knew there wasn’t much time to tell him.
He talked about being a kid with Dave near Columbia, Missouri and how much mischief they’d gotten themselves into. The boy laughed, holding Taz’s hand tightly and seeming to take strength from the physical contact.
Taz knew he’d take the kid’s name and one day he’d go to Missouri and find Dave to tell him how his friend Charlie had died.
“I really feel like shit, Dave. I think they got me good. I’m sure glad you’re here. I’m scared. I’m really scared, Dave. I’m such a baby.”
“Nothing to be scared of, Charlie. It’s going to be okay. Here, I brought you something to keep you safe.”
Taz unbuttoned the top of his blouse, slipping the peace symbol out from under his T-shirt and slipping it over his head.
“Here, I brought this for you. It has protected me and it’ll keep you safe, Charlie. You’ll see.”
“What is it, Dave?” he asked with excitement, as Taz slipped it gently around his neck.
“It’s a peace symbol. It’ll bring you peace, Charlie. It’s brought me peace and I don’t need it anymore. I want you to have it. You’ll see. Go ahead and hold it. You’ll see how it helps to take away all the fear.”
“Leave it to you. I never meant all that stuff I said to you, when you tried to talk me out of joining up. I know you were right now. The war was no place for me. Why didn’t I listen to you? Now look at me. I haven’t lived yet, Dave, and look at me. I should have listened to you all right. You were always way smarter than me.”
“Don’t worry about it. I know you didn’t mean it. I’m here aren’t I? We’re cool.”
“Will you stay and take me home, Dave? I’d like that. We’d be together again. Just like old times.”
“I’ll stay until you’re ready to go,” Taz said and Charlie smiled as his sparkling blue green eyes blinked up at the ceiling.
Charlie held the peace symbol in one hand and Taz’s hand in the other. He stopped talking for a time. His expression changed and the happiness and sparkle left his face. His excitement faded.
“It’s okay. I do feel better. Peaceful like. How’d you know it would work? Even my gut feels better now.”
“Someone gave it to me one day. He told me it would help me find peace. It did. I always thought it was the stuff outside that made the biggest difference, but it wasn’t like that at all. The peace came from inside me,” Taz explained thoughtfully, not sure when he realized he had found peace within himself.
“Maybe you ought to keep it? It sounds like it’s important to you.”
“No, I don’t need it anymore. You need it. I gave it to you.”
“Thanks. I knew you’d come. I knew it. I don’t know how I knew. I was lying here alone, you know. I began thinking about you. Next thing I know you’re here.”
Charlie swallowed hard and seemed to be seeing something some distance away as his eyes fluttered a few times.
“I’m really tired. Don’t leave me, okay? I’m going to rest my eyes. I’m glad you came, Dave. I’m glad.”
Charlie grew silent. The sounds of the machines grew louder. There was an obvious weakening in the beeping. One final desperate beep came just before the buzzing began.
Taz sat holding Charlie’s hand as the nurses came in and turned off the maddening machines. There was no hurry, no frantic reaction to the soldier’s inability to stay alive.
A few minutes later Kendall stepped into the room.
“Sarge,” Kendall said softly.
“Yeah, what?”
“They’ve got to take him out of here. He’s gone, Sarge. Let go of his hand so they can take him.”
Taz woke as if he’d been in a deep dark sleep. His head ached and he felt like he’d been hit by a truck. He was tired and didn’t feel very well. The smell of the hospital nauseated him.
“What’s this?” the nurse said, as she unhooked the wires and tubes from the body.
“Don’t touch it. It’s his,” Taz snapped viciously.
“What is it?” the nurse asked curiously, looking at the crudely fashioned piece of metal.
“It’s a peace symbol,” Taz said more conciliatory.
“Oh, yeah, I’ve seen these. Not the place for one of these, do you think?”
“It’s the perfect place for it. It’s his. Let him keep it. It isn’t hurting anything,” Taz pleaded as the nurse looked quizzically.
She couldn’t help but wonder what a soldier like Sgt. Tazerski was doing with such a thing. She knew better than to ask and would get rid of it after he left.
“There’s an exit just past the latrine, Sarge. I brought the car around so you don’t need to go back through the hospital. You got to get back to the hotel, shower, shave, get into a new uniform. You can’t be late for that deal tonight. Gen. Walker would skin us both.”
Taz hesitated at the door, turning to take one last look.
“Goodbye, Charlie,” Taz said sadly. “I’ll tell Dave I stood in for him.”
He followed Kendall to the car. In a few minutes they were driving back toward the hotel.
“You know where the Lincoln Memorial is, Kendall?” Taz asked.
“Sure. I drive Gen. Walker all over this town. He won’t let no one else drive him, you know. He likes it there. He talks to Lincoln. He’s a general talking to a block of granite.
“I shouldn’t say stuff like that. That’s another reason he keeps me around. I don’t say nothin’ about nothin’. We got to get moving, Sarge. That deal starts in a couple of hours and you look like hell.”
“That’s where I want to go. Lincoln Memorial.”
Kendall didn’t like it, but he wasn’t there to argue with the people he drove.
Taz told Kendall to sit tight as he left the car to walk up the sidewalk toward the stairs. He looked up through the columns as he climbed. He moved between the columns into the chamber and stood before the massive monumental man sitting at the center of the memorial.
Taz threw his most snappy salute at the statue.
He felt a loyalty to Lincoln, who stood up for the people. There was a bond he knew they shared, even though he’d not known it before.
He stood reading Lincoln’s words, which were carved all around the ceiling above the statue. His hand went to his chest as he felt for the missing peace symbol. It had become a reflex any time Taz felt uneasy or fearful. It had been there a long time.
He moved his hand away from his chest.
“It’s getting late,” Kendall said softly, as he stood behind Taz expecting him to snap at him for mentioning time. “You’re going to be late, Sarge, and both our asses are going to get chewed off.”
“You know where I’m going?”
“Yeah, Sarge, I been there a few times. You need to get changed. You can’t go there looking like that. These are important people, Sarge. These are very important people, congressmen, their wives. They don’t take kindly to being stood up.”
“You know that kid died?”
“I know, Sarge,” Kendall said, made uneasy by the question. “They told me he would. I shouldn’t have let you stay in there. Gen. Walker is going to take a big bite out of my ass on account I did. He’s going to get another chunk if I don’t have you where you’re supposed to be on time, looking like one squared away army grunt.”
“He was an important person, Kendall. Not Gen. Walker, not all the bullshit people who think they’re important or who think I’m important. They’re shit. That kid was important, you know. He was important to me and none of those assholes will even know he died for them. They don’t care as long as I’m on time and in my best dress uniform, tailored for a fine fit, thank you very much. It’s all bullshit, Kendall. We’re bullshit.”
“Sarge! We got to go. Please. You can tell me all about it tomorrow. I’m supposed to be looking out for you. Keep you out of trouble. I’m going to be a private tomorrow. You’re going to be in the stockade.”
“Yeah, you’ve done a fine job, Kendall. You can’t undo what I’ve seen. You can’t undo what I’ve done.”
“I know, Sarge. It’s time. Please!”
“He freed the slaves, you know?” Taz said, looking back over his shoulder at Lincoln before looking down the steep stone staircase ahead of them. “Martin Luther King spoke on those steps one day. The people were spread as far as the eye could see to hear his words. They were important. They died too. The good people always die.”
“Sarge!”
“That kid died and I got my picture taken holding a gun, like thousands of other grunts are doing right now, only no one took a picture of them and now I’m an American hero. The hero was Charlie and the boys who died or came back with pieces missing.”
“Sarge, that’s how life works. Some of us get our pictures taken and some of us get buried. We’re at war. Those people waiting to salute you need their heroes. Why don’t we go give them a good look at you and we can talk all night about it? It’s time to go. You got to let me do my job.”
“I know. I know. I can’t do this anymore, Kendall. I can’t. I’m scared,” Taz confessed, feeling a ton of weight on his chest. “He’s not talking to the granite. He’s talking to Lincoln’s spirit. Can’t you feel it? That’s what this place is here for.”
Kendall started down the stairs in the hope he wasn’t alone. Taz followed him to the car. Kendall could only hope Taz’s insubordination had ended. They’d be lucky to make it to the congressional reception on time.
There was a darkness that hung around Taz that Kendall felt. He still needed to get him showered and into a fresh uniform and time was running out. Kendall steered the car toward the hotel, going as swiftly as he dared. It wasn’t far to the ballroom and he still thought he could get Taz there on time.
The Reception
Kodak came rushing down the corridor in his Hawaiian attire, red on red. With the red carpet and the red rose wallpaper, he blended in stunningly well.
“Is he here?” Kodak asked impatiently as he came toward Kendall.
“Yes, sir, he’s here, but you aren’t going to like it,” Kendall spoke as he swung open the door so Kodak’s momentum wasn’t impeded.
“Oh, Taz,” Kodak moaned with disappointment.
“I tried to stop him. He jumped out of the car at a red light. I couldn’t stop him. When he came back with the bottle, I tried to get it away from him. He told me he’d kill me if I touched it. I believed him. I saw my career flashing in front of my face.
“They said bring him back here. Keep him out of sight. I don’t guess there’s a cure to get him ready for this shindig? I know how to get wasted, not so much about unwasting someone.”
“I’m sorry,” Taz sang, looking up from an ugly uncomfortable looking thin green couch.
Taz lay on his side with hands stuffed between his knees with his knees drawn toward his chest. A nearly empty bottle of scotch was on its side in front of the couch.
“I’m sorry,” he repeated. “Can you hold me for a minute? I need you to hold me. I can’t do this any more. I can’t do it. I’m scared.”
“Go ahead, sir. I don’t have nothin’ to say about nothin’. I’m just a driver. I was, anyway.”
“Does Gen. Walker know he’s like this?” Kodak asked, having difficulty processing the scene and what to do about it.
“He knows all right. I called him. He told me where to take him. This isn’t the best night he could have pulled this shit.”
“No, it’s not. Can you stand guard and not let anyone see him like this? I’ll think of something to explain his absence.”
“Yes, sir. I wouldn’t want to be in his shoes.”
“No, I suspect not. You can’t do what he did and see what he saw and not pay the piper sooner or later.”
“No, I guess not, but what are you going to do about all the dignitaries who are getting all gussied up to see him? They’re going to be a little disappointed if he’s a no show.”
“I don’t know. I’ve been waiting for it to catch up with him, but it’s kind of short notice. I figured I’d see it coming. “He was drunk all the time over there. Went cold turkey to quit. I figured it was only a matter of time,” Kodak revealed. “Oh, Taz, why tonight?”
“I won’t let anyone in. The Gen. will be here once his day is done. He’s still reorganizing his general staff and they’re all scheduled to be here. They’ve been at it twenty hours a day. It’s going to be a new ballgame over there.”
“It’s okay, babe, I’ll keep you safe if I can,” Kodak said, slipping behind Taz on the narrow couch, holding him tightly.
“Will you? That’s nice. Thank you,” Taz sang as he felt Kodak’s arms holding him close. “Don’t let go. I feel like I’m falling.”
“I won’t let you fall. I’ll keep you safe, babe.” Kodak promised. “I won’t let go. Just go to sleep and I’ve got to go out there and tell them something, Taz. You’ll be fine and I’ll be here, when you wake up. Just go to sleep. I’m here.”
“Thank you,” he said with his voice fading, as was his connection to the scene. “Tell them… Tell them… I can’t do this anymore. I’m afraid of people, you know. I like soldiers. I’m a soldier. Soldiers are okay.”
“Yes, they are.”
Kodak fought back his tears, kissing the back of Taz’s head once he’d fallen asleep. He eased himself off the couch, trying to figure out what he’d say to the crowd gathering a few feet away to hear Taz tell his tale.
Kodak turned to look back at Taz when he reached the door. His heart ached for the hero of 1st squad. Kodak also felt the darkness around his friend. He wasn’t sure what might happen because of the fall Taz had taken.
“Thanks for taking care of him, Kendall. You’re a good soldier.”
“Yes, sir. I couldn’t stop him. Honest, I tried. He going to be okay?”
“No, he’s not. He’s back in Vietnam I suspect, fighting his own private war this time. I don’t know if we can get him back again. Don’t let anyone in here. He should stay a hero. No one needs to be able to take that away from him.”
“Good as done, sir. He’s not going to speak?” Kendall verified.
“No, I’ll speak for him tonight. He took care of me in Vietnam and I’ll take care of him back here if I can. This isn’t a good audience to disappoint.”
“Don’t be too hard on him. He watched a soldier die this afternoon. I don’t think he liked it. I knew it was a bad idea but you can’t stop him when he makes up his mind to do something.”
“I know. Pray for him to come home, Kendall,” Kodak said mournfully, not looking back again.
“I will. I am.”
Kodak stopped to get his clothes straightened up. There weren’t a lot of questions when he showed up at the corner of the stage alone, before the host went on to announce the guests of honor.
He’d dressed to accompany Taz on stage as the guy who took the picture. With Taz looking like a million bucks in his tailored uniform, Kodak’s Hawaiian attire was a fair contrast to the hero. He’d gone to the ballroom earlier in the day and decided on red.
It was perfect for this high powered crowd. He’d realized this was the top of the world. He thought it would be all downhill from here, having no idea how fast that journey would be.
Now he was the whole ball game and feeling a bit overexposed. He used the soft matching hat he’d found in a second hand shop in Georgetown to give his hands something to do as he twisted and pulled to hide his nerves.
He knew he had to do it but knowing how wasn’t so apparent. He remembered how he was there to talk once Taz ran out of steam at the first few events. It wasn’t long before Taz was in charge and out front of every speaking engagement. He seemed fine, almost happy, but looks can be deceiving. Kodak was never convinced that inside of Taz things were as calm as they appeared on the outside.
Kodak was introduced as Paul Anderson, speaking for Sgt. Tazerski who had taken ill. He’d never have thought to call it that but it helped take the sting out of the mess. The crowd grew restless at the news and their disappointment showed. The groan gave Kodak that sinking feeling. The bottom was rushing at him.
The applause told him they knew he was Kodak. They still thought taking a picture was a big deal. It still baffled him. It was a shot in a million, but he was all they had and they seemed pleased he had shown up. He wasn’t what they had expected, but he’d have to do.
As the applause died down, Kodak moved to the center of the stage and began to adjust the microphone on the podium. He looked out over the dignitaries, important people all, and looking the role.
The audience looked for Taz, hoping he was well enough to be seen. They heard the introduction but as of yet didn’t understand why the soldier they came to see was A.W.O.L. They weren’t accustomed to disappointments. That was obvious as the crowd murmured.
“I’m Kodak,” he said.
The audience applauded politely and waited. There was a gasp as the lights went down except for a spot that was placed on Kodak, spilling over his left shoulder.
The applause started before Kodak looked back over his shoulder to find the picture that had started it all. His knees felt weak and tears clouded his vision.
The applause became louder and continued for too long. Kodak wished his friend was there with him, but this was as close as he was going to get.
“Where’s Taz?” someone yelled from the back of the auditorium.
Kodak stood silent, trying to smile. Should he lie? The question made him cringe. What could he say that hadn’t been said. He wasn’t going to say he was drunk, A.W.O.L., or missing in action.
He adjusted the microphone some more, looking for the right words. A million flooded through his brain. None slowed down.
“Taz is back in Vietnam,” Kodak answered with a most serious tone in his voice.
“In Vietnam? He’s not in Vietnam,” the disembodied voice in the dark countered. “He was on the front page of the Post this morning.”
Kodak adjusted the microphone, searching his inadequate brain. How could he say enough without saying too much? How could he tell them about his friend?
“Sometimes, you leave a war, but it doesn’t leave you,” Kodak said softly.
“What?” someone yelled.
“Shhh!” the restless people said.
“Taz is dealing with the war tonight. He can’t join us. He asked me to tell you that.”
There was a soft groan as the disappointment resurfaced. They’d come to see a war hero and a photographer wasn’t exactly the same thing.
“But I’ll tell him you asked about him. That will help. Let me tell you about him, since he isn’t here to stop me.”
Kodak looked back at the picture for inspiration. At the bottom of the picture was written,
AP Wire Photo by Kodak.
The applause died down as Kodak regrouped, still a novice at the fame game as a single. He looked over the crowd and tried to get his mind to produce words that could mean something to these people.
“Taz is not able to speak to you tonight and that’s why they keep me around. I’ve never told anyone how I came to take that picture. There’s been so much fuss over it and no one has ever asked me how I came to take it. Do you want to hear the story?”
“Yes,” was the answer en masse, as soft lights came on around the walls of the ballroom.
“I hadn’t been in-country long. In Vietnam that is. I had been going out on patrol for a week or more when I took the picture behind me. Taz was never anywhere to be seen. I mean I never knew where he was or even if he was with us, and believe me, I tried to find him. I was the last man in the formation. I wanted to make sure someone was between me and whatever might be behind us. Oh, he was supposed to be there. I just never saw him.
“On this day we were out on patrol and we walked into an ambush. It was a small part of a larger force left behind to keep 1st squad from catching up with the rest of the Viet Cong.
“One minute we were on another routine patrol and then all hell broke loose. It was a total surprise — to me anyway. There was no sign of the enemy as far as I knew. The next thing I knew I was flat on my ass with Taz standing over me. This was the first time I saw him in action. It was the first combat I’d seen.
“It’s an experience you can’t imagine. I mean Taz was immediately in charge of the firefight. All our guys ducked out of his way, and he put down enough fire to put a crimp in that ambush.
“While I was lying there, watching him, I got the idea, since I was a photographer, I ought to get a picture. That’s the picture I took.
“He wouldn’t allow me to get up to take pictures as 1st squad took control of the battlefield. He didn’t think it was safe for me. He said later it was too dangerous, and so I shot the picture from the ground with him towering over me with that big gun.
“Believe me, it takes an incident like that for Taz to tower over me.”
The laughter told him the story was a success. He smiled and wanted.
“I don’t usually get to talk about the kind of soldier Taz is, because he’d smack me if I did it in front of him. He only sees it as doing his job. So I’ll tell you tonight since he isn’t here to stop me. 1st squad knew what kind of soldier he was. Every man in 1st squad, including this photographer, knew he was the difference between life and death. No matter the situation, Taz stood out front, drew fire, and laid it down in a way the enemy had to dread.
“Taz has this keen vision that sees everything on the battlefield. He has even keener hearing. He can hear an enemy rifle when the soldier clicks in a new ammo clip. It’s generally the last thing that soldier ever does. If one raises his head, takes time to set his rifle to open fire, or just scratches his ass, Taz makes that his final move.
“At first I couldn’t keep up with what he did. It took time for me to understand he nailed snipers as they eased their rifles into position to take a shot, and he heard riflemen coming up from the rear or on one of our flanks. He could whirl and fire, turning back to fire again, before I knew what he was shooting at.
“When we were lost, it began with me jumping out of the chopper first in an effort to get some pictures of 1st squad hitting the ground to go into action. We were almost immediately under attack. Taz was usually the first man out to protect 1st squad. In this case he was returning fire right away. The chopper was able to lift up out of the LZ. As the VC was deciding to duck rather than die, Taz was signaling the pilot to go, leaving us behind. Taz was sacrificing his own life so that his unit and a helicopter survived.
“I told him he’d have jumped back into the chopper if not for me, but he told me this, ‘they weren’t about to let that helicopter get airborne. I changed their minds. They decided they had a better chance of staying alive if they let the chopper go. I had to stay behind to make that point.’
“That’s the kind of soldier Sgt. Tazerski is. Yes, he survived. Believe me, it was blind dumb luck and his courage that saved us. If I’d known the entire truth, I’d have gone to pieces, but he never let me know the truth about our desperate situation.
“’Your being on the ground with me was a fluke, but it didn’t change anything.’”
“That was Taz at war. He always knew his job. He was always the first man out of the chopper and he stood guard at each LZ, being the last man to get aboard before the chopper took off. He saw it as doing his duty and I saw it as heroic.
“That helicopter survived long enough to get 1st squad to safety. Taz emptied the B.A.R. keeping the VC fire to a minimum. Now, he carried an extra clip that day but other guys in 1st squad carried more clips for him so he wasn’t weighed down.
“What I didn’t know, and he didn’t tell me, was when we left the LZ, tumbling down a steep incline, which probably saved our lives, Taz lost his extra clip. He had no ammo. We were out there for days virtually unarmed, but of course I never knew it.
“Taz never once let on how desperate our situation was. The enemy was all around us and we were 30 miles from base with no way to protect ourselves, except maybe use the B.A.R. for a club.
“It rained really bad for a couple of days and he fashioned us a small shelter he made out of jungle vegetation. It kept us dry but we were starving. Not only were we starving but during the night a VC rifle squad decided to set up camp a few feet from where we were staying out of the weather.
“No, this wasn’t an episode of Ripley’s Believe It Or Not, but what came next would qualify. Taz, who is unarmed, stole some of their rice and even an enemy grenade. I still didn’t know he had no ammo and couldn’t figure out why he wanted a grenade.
“When I look back on it, what he did, the kind of a man he is, I’m very lucky to be alive to tell you about it. I don’t think I would be if I had been with anyone but Sgt. Tazerski.
“There is no doubt he conducted himself heroically whenever he was in the field. He would have died willingly for 1st squad if that was what it took to get them back to camp safely. His buddies came first. He always puts me first. I’m proud to at last have an opportunity to tell someone about the Taz I know and owe my life to.”
The applause came like a crack of lightning and there were whistles and hoots of approval. Kodak was a hit as a single and it did relieve some of the stress he felt. He waited as the commotion died away. He thought as he waited for the room to go silent.
“I understand you are disappointed he isn’t here to tell you his story tonight. Believe me, I sure as hell wish it was him up here and not me.”
Laughter spread around the room as the audience sympathized with the journalist.
“I want you to remember this: Taz has been out there standing between you and the enemy. He did it willingly. He saw it as his duty. It isn’t done without a cost when done right. Some men pay the ultimate price. Some men come back without any visible wounds.
“Taz was wounded in a way we can’t see. He’s spent the past few months appearing in front of audiences like this, well, not quite like this one.”
Everyone laughed.
“He sees this as his duty. He sees it as an opportunity to tell the soldier’s story. He’s under orders to do it and he has done it with no regard for himself.
“Tonight he couldn’t make it out here. He doesn’t like this part of it all that much. He rarely speaks of himself. It’s not in his nature. He would be the last one to tell you he’s wounded. So I’ll tell you.
“Don’t judge him too harshly because you came all this way, got all gussied up to hear the hero speak. He is speaking to you. He’s telling you he is tired. He’s telling you he fought the good fight and he fought it well. He’s telling you he can’t get up to fight the battle any longer. He’s telling you he needs time to go home to heal. He needs to go somewhere and forget the war, the bleeding, and the dying. He’s talking to us and all he wants is to be left alone for awhile. I ask you to be grateful he stood between you and the enemy and now let him heal. He’s given you all he’s got.”
The applause began softly and moved around the ballroom. People thought about those words, they stood and applauded louder, and the whistles and hoots of approval rang through the chandeliers.
“Taz took care of me. He took care of 1st squad. He was without fear and would stand and fight for as long as his unit was in danger.”
The applause erupted all over again. Some people stood and some were content to stay seated.
“We’ll get done here a lot faster if you’ll stop that. I’m having a hard enough time going it alone tonight. I’m no public speaker, I’m barely a photographer,” he said, and there was laughter and applause that came together.
People nodded approval and smiled at one another as they clapped.
“Men who go to war put their lives on the line for you. They might not face the enemy all the time but at all times they know they’ll be facing the enemy.
“Killing is not an easy thing to do. When your country says to do it, that’s what you do, but don’t expect soldiers to come home unaltered by the experience. You can’t possibly know what it is like to fight and watch men die if you haven’t done it or watched it done. I just knew I was glad to be alive once it was over.
“One day we were lost in the bush and the next day we were receiving a hero’s welcome in the States. One day death was but a step away and the next day we were standing in front of fine folks like you, staying in fine hotels and eating first class food. One day lost, starving, a step away from death, and the next day we were celebrities.
“Believe me, it isn’t an easy transition, and I only took pictures. While Taz is heroic by virtue of his deeds, every man that answers his country’s call is an American hero.
“Where would we be without them? They go and they fight to keep us safe and we owe them whatever it takes for them to readjust to being home. They’ve earned our patience if they don’t immediately respond to whatever it is we are expecting from them.”
“It’s time we say welcome home, Sgt. Tazerski, job well-done and then we need to stand back and give him whatever time he needs to readjust to being home.”
This time the applause lasted. Seats were deserted as the audience took a stand. It was the best Kodak had. It was all he had.
Kodak moved back from the microphone.
* * * * *
Returning to the room where he’d left Taz, he found the door open and the room empty. Kendall was gone. Only the nearly empty bottle of booze remained to prove Taz had been there. He sunk down on the uncomfortable damp green couch. Kodak cried.
Taking a lonely cab ride to the hotel, Taz wasn’t there. There were no message to tell him where Taz had been taken.
Kodak didn’t know if he’d ever see his friend again. He had no doubt he was back in the hands of the US Army. There had been a war going on inside Taz long before he left for Vietnam. His life was filled with strife and the constant battle to survive and he’d finally surrendered to his demons.
Whatever the treatment, the punishment, the fallout for what had taken place that last day, Kodak had no way of knowing the fate of his friend. If he went to the Washington Post the entire story would become public. Any chance for Taz to have a future would be lost.
The US Army had footed the bill for the tour. The tour was over. No one needed to tell Kodak. No one gave a damn about a tarnished hero.
Life was lonely without the man he loved in it. He’d been with Taz most of every day for a year. His absence weighed heavy on Kodak’s aching heart.
Once healed, would Taz even want to see him? Would he remember?
Maybe he could reach Gen. Walker. Maybe Kendall could tell him where Taz was taken, but where would he find Kendall? Any day now they’d be back in Asia and Taz would be lost to him forever.
He called his paper to find out if he had any money coming to him. He asked about a job and had no appetite for life without Taz.
Epilogue
“Okay, you’ve got your tickets and you’ll be in Missoula before dark tonight. My sons will meet you at the airport and take you to the ranch. You make sure he doesn’t try to get off the plane, Kodak,” Gen. Walker ordered.
“I won’t try to get off the fucking plane. What do you think I am? Where else have I got to go?”
“I’m still trying to figure that out, son. You’ve got your discharge papers? You better thank Kodak every day of your life for that honorable discharge. I’m not sure if I could have pulled your ass out of the fire with you standing up half the congress and all their wives. He had every wife in tears and wanting to adopt you. I guess I won that lottery.
“You certainly have a fan in this fellow. You better not let him get away. Loyalty like his is damn hard to come by these days.”
“No, sir, I don’t plan on doing that either. I’m not stupid, just crazy.”
“I won’t be there until late this year, but I’m coming up on retirement and I’m going to call it a day. This damn reorganization, this damn war has convinced me I need to live some before I die,” Gen. Walker said, as he leaned into the backseat of his staff car.
“I’ll keep the place from falling down until you get home,” Taz said.
“You are going to have to help with the cattle. Both of you. I don’t want to be missing any when I get back there. My boys will show you the ropes. If you find some military looking guys hanging around there, they’ll be expecting you.”
“Thanks, General. You saved my life,” Taz said seriously.
“You gave me a lot to think about. I’m the one that should be thanking you, son. The ranch is there. One more soldier, more or less, don’t matter much. I’ve always liked my soldiers and having some around the house seems right to me.
“Now, look, you can live in the main house. Lord knows there will be a crowd there by now, but the boys have set the line shack up for you. It’s nicer than it sounds. No electricity. No TV, but the most beautiful damn sunsets on God’s green earth. The air is fresh if you steer clear of the cow patties. They give new meaning to head clearing capabilities. You’ll do okay.
“Kodak, take care of him. He needs you and that means I need you. Let me know if you need anything. You’ve got my numbers. I’ll see you in a few months.
“Kendall, they’re going to be late. What the hell are you doing sitting around here? I got to tell you to get your ass moving?”
“No, sir.”
Kendall smiled, starting the engine, waiting for the general to close the door.
He reached into the backseat shaking first Kodak’s hand and then Taz’s before closing the door. He stood and watched the staff car heading for the gate.
The End
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Taz & Kodak, book 2, Montana Sky – A Rick Beck Story.
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