THE SOLDIER: A Vietnam War Era Novel

by Schwartz, Richard Alan

  ***

  Back in Celina, Brian shut the engine down on his John Deere Model 3020, and jumped off. He’d used the tractor with a sweeping attachment to clean the drive to his home. It was also used it for lawn care and gardening. The postman drove up in a two-door jeep then called to him.

  “The address is a bit off but figured this might be for you, Dr. Levin. All the way from Australia.”

  The Vietnam vet thanked the postman, read the return address then ripped open the envelope.

  Dearest Brian,

  Thought I’d write and let you know; I’ll be married this weekend. His name is Rodney and he’s a kind man. Also a sheep farmer, so Dad likes him, and, as I’d hoped, I’ll be a rancher’s wife. Dad is doing well by the way. Sends his thanks. He’s healed and back to his old curmudgeon self.

  The feelings and emotions you and I discussed and experienced together, have made me a better person. I know we never finished numerous conversations but how can I ever thank you for our six days? Sorry, I couldn’t tell you in person. Please know, you secured a place in my heart no one else will ever touch. I think of you whenever I hear my wind chimes.

  Love Always, Andrea

  He slowly shook his head then reread the letter. “Tough news, Dr. Levin?” the postman asked.

  Brian forced a smile. “Happy news for a friend.”

  “You look like somebody ripped your heart out.”

  “I should be nothing but happy for my friend but…you know…life is friggin’ crazy.”

  “Got that right,” the postman said and climbed back in his jeep.

  Brian held up the envelope and yelled, “Thanks for thinking of me.”

  A day later, he replied:

  Andrea,

  Thanks for the note. Congratulations on your marriage. If you visit the states, unlikely I know, you’ll find me in Celina, Texas.

  Yes, I’m a better person for having known you. Glad your father is doing well. Give him my best. Love,

  Brian Levin

  PS. My wind chimes survived.

  ***

  The commuter train rocked. Its side to side motion and clacking wheels, annoyed some but the rhythm of sound and motion, soothing to others. The sound of twisted metal and shattering glass filling the air, frightened Brian. The front end of the car he was riding in began climbing. The conveyance nearly vertical, he felt as if he was on a roller coaster, his weight pressing more on the back of the seat than the cushion below his legs. The car twisted like a pretzel, steel and aluminum groaning, screaming passengers tossed about. He was trapped in the wreckage. The passenger’s pitiful pleading for help rang in his ears, but he couldn’t move. His legs and arms trapped, he couldn’t do anything to help. He saw injuries he knew would be easy to repair but if left unattended would result in blood loss and death. A young boy turned to him. An oriental face with a pen in his eye.

  The alarm rang. Brian jumped out of bed. He stood there panting, his body trembling, sweat running down his brow. He banged his hand on the buzzing alarm clock to silence it.

  Brian looked around his bedroom and heard his wind chimes. He said to the empty room, “Three months home…why would I have a nightmare like that?”

  He took a hot shower to try and wash away the dream. Brian thought, “Even though I spend numerous hours on my research, the war itself is far away. Its horror, should be, receding in my memory.”

  ***

  During early November of 1973, Brian received another letter from Andrea.

  Dear Brian,

  We’ll be visiting the U.S, the middle of this month. Would like to visit you. Is that okay?

  Andrea

  A huge smile spread across his face. Even the wind chimes seemed to play a happy tune. Brian ran to his office and replied in the affirmative along with a request for their itinerary.

  He thought, “It might be difficult, but I have to stay cool and remember she’s married. I wonder if I should do anything special for their arrival. Perhaps I’ll schedule a party so Andrea and Rodney can meet my friends? Jet lag could be taxing for them the first few days. It could be difficult with her husband if he knows how close I was to Andrea. Back in Oz, she was certain she never wanted to visit the states. I wonder what changed.” He thought of their time in Oz. “Such sweet memories. I can’t wait to see her.”

  The phone rang, bringing Brian back to his normal routine. A friend asked if he could provide extra plates for the dinner party he would be attending that night.

  “Of course. I’ll be there at seven.”

  Chapter 12

  1973 November

  Descending out of a leaden-gray sky through a light rain, typical for late November in Dallas, but adding to the already thick, humid air, the twin-engine jet flew approach in a nose up attitude; engines throttled back and flaps extended while its main landing gear appeared to reach for the earth like a steel legged Pterodactyl. A squeal and two puffs of smoke emanating from the tires announced its contact with terra-firma. Brian stood at the exit to the jet-way and watched the passengers disembark. Andrea, with a sullen expression, approached. A toddler in her left arm, a large handbag, and diaper bag in the other. He expected her warm smile to lift his heart, but her expression was as gray as the sky.

  “The pained expression of someone dreading their future?” he wondered.

  “Welcome to Dallas,” he said, his head on a swivel for her husband. He gave her a brief embrace then took her bags.

  The toddler’s radiant blue eyes examined him with a brief glance then rested his head on Andrea’s shoulder. “Good to be here,” she said in a tone of relief but without a smile. “At last. Seth can hardly hold his head up. We’re exhausted. It was a long ride from Oz.”

  “Rodney?”

  “Not with us.”

  “Where you staying?”

  “Nowhere yet.”

  “Guest bedroom at my place…if that’s okay.” She nodded.

  With little conversation, they retrieved her bags. His black, full-sized, four-door pickup swallowed the trio and her six bags.

  “How far away is your home?” she asked, as he eased onto the highway.

  “Forty-minutes from here.”

  “I’ll sleep.”

  She woke as the pickup bounced while he turned off the main road then drove up a long drive.

  “Big place.”

  “Just over one-hundred acres. The state of Oklahoma, is a brief drive north of here.”

  A brick walled, two-story house came into view. “Looks homey,” she said.

  “I grew up here. My folks bought it just as I entered my teens. Lots of wood trim inside…adds warmth.”

  “An expensive home.”

  “A bargain. The builder ran out of money before all the electric was in. The walls and floors not finished. My dad and I finished the wiring then he hired carpenters for the balance.”

  The pickup stopped under the covered portico which extended to the front door.

  As she exited the truck, she pointed at the wind chimes. They sang in the light breeze as if announcing their pleasure at her arrival.

  “Yes,” he said with a smile, “The ones which sound like you.”

  She stopped to listen then displayed her first smile.

  They entered the house; opposite the great room with its two-story window wall.

  Andrea looked around. “Like you said, a warm interior.” Sleepy Seth yawned.

  “I’ll show you the small bedroom. He can sleep there,” Brian offered.

  She nodded.

  Andrea carried the little one up a set of stairs. Brian indicated the room. She put the toddler in the middle of the bed, placed pillows on either side of him, and a wool blanket over him. When they returned to the family room, Andrea walked to and stared out the window wall.

  “Great view,” She said without looking at him.

  “Tea?” he offered.

  Andrea nodded, kicked off her shoes, plopped into the deep cushions of the couch across from the fireplac
e, and emitted a long sigh.

  “An expensive trip from Oz,” Brian said, as he handed her a mug of steaming brew.

  Taking the mug in both hands she sipped its contents. “Tastes like Billy tea.”

  “Yes. Enjoyed it in Oz. Found a place here that sold it.”

  “My father helped me get here. Something about buying rainbows.” She yawned. “I’m going to join Seth for a while.” Four hours later, Andrea and Seth came down to the family room. Brian sat on the floor next to the little one, who crawled onto his lap.

  Seth laughed and giggled while Brian held him over his head, encouraging him to put his arms out like an airplane.

  “Seth has such brilliant blue eyes,” he said.

  “Just like his father,” Andrea said.

  Brian stood, put Seth on his left arm, and walked toward the window wall. He addressed the little one, “See the swimming pool and the pond behind it…won’t be long and we’ll see geese raising a gaggle of little ones, then skeins of ducks overhead and some evenings, in that tree line beyond the pond, listen to a parliament of…” Brian froze.

  “Parliament did you say?” Andrea asked. He slowly turned to face her.

  She pulled her knees against her chest, wrapped her arms around them.

  Seth’s father stammered, “This guy…you mean…how old is he?” He stared at the little one, his own bright blue eyes returning his gaze. Seth smiled, the little one saying, “More airplane.” He waved his arms then gripped and tugged on Brian’s shirt collar.

  The Aussie lady asked, “You said, parliament…?”

  “Andrea, he’s…?”

  She took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, pulled her knees tighter against her chest, and nodded. “Yes. 7 March 1971. Thirty-three-months-old and he’s our son.”

  His face bathed in incredulity, he stammered, “Oh…Ah…My God. Why didn’t you let me know?”

  “Not sure how, or if I should. Our six days seemed like a dream after a while…”

  “I gave you my address. My phone.”

  Andrea shrugged. “We agreed there were good reasons not to stay in touch.”

  “But, a child?”

  “I was angry with you. With myself…”

  “Bit of a shock.”

  “Brian…”

  “I need to be alone for a bit so I can get my head to stop spinning.” Brian handed Seth to Andrea. The back door slammed as he left the house.

  “Crap,” he thought as he crossed the yard toward the garage through a light rain, his silver and blue motor home sitting on the apron. “Just getting my head on straight and she brings me a child.” He shrugged and giggled. “At least it’s my child. I don’t really know if that’s good or bad.” Brian stopped next to his motorhome, kicked one of the tires, and patted its side. “Sorry old girl. Don’t know if it’s practical to travel with a little one. I may have to store you for…hell, may have to sell you.” He turned back to the house. Seth stood at the base of the window wall wearing a concerned expression while his little hand banged on the glass.

  “If you’re mine, little guy,” Brian thought while waving at Seth, “I’ll take care of you.” Thinking of the fun he was having, he smiled and thought, “Take care of you even if you’re not mine.” He slowly shook his head. “But your Mom…only knew her for six days…how do she and I build a relationship on that…if I stayed in Oz, would we have stayed together? Country Girl and City Boy. Not much chance of a happy ending with such opposites. And there was that story she started to tell me…she’d killed some people? Is she running away because the police are after her? Andrea seems remote…almost cold…especially in comparison to the woman I knew in Oz.”

  After kicking the rear tires of the motor home, Brian entered the detached garage. Five vehicles, the beginning of a car and antique tractor collection lined one wall, the other wall setup for winter storage of his motor home. His just painted, 1935 John Deere tractor, resplendent in green and yellow held his attention. He walked over, ran his hand down the hood, made a mental note to check the tire pressure in the left rear then thought of Seth and smiled. “Always imagined driving this tractor with a child on my lap. I have that little guy to support now…his mom as well. May not be able to keep my car collection. A sudden family…don’t have a clue what the costs would be. What if she doesn’t want me? Tough on Seth to start life traveling between two homes. Little guy doesn’t deserve that. Not his fault if we can’t make it.”

  Brian spent time contemplating the changes he would have to make then walked back to the house. He kneeled in front of the fireplace, stacked a number of logs then flamed one end of a piece of resinous, pine heartwood to start them burning. Seth approached and kneeled at his side. Brian looked around, saw Andrea sitting on a rocker on the front porch. He ruffled Seth’s hair, then stood and flopped onto the couch. The little one followed a few steps then ran over to, what his mother called, Seth’s activity bag. He pulled out two books then returned to Brian who hoisted him onto his lap.

  “The Happy Man and his Dump Truck,” Brian said. “So, you like trucks.” He read in an expressive voice, the little one giving him rapt attention and occasionally pointing to the illustrations. By the time the following story, “Scuffy the Tugboat,” ended, Seth was curled up against his father, sound asleep.

  Andrea walked back into the room then stood in front of the fireplace, holding out her hands to enjoy its warmth. “Comforting fire.”

  “You’ve been crying.”

  Eyes riveted on the dancing flames, she said, “Didn’t know what to expect when I told you about Seth…didn’t think you’d walk out.”

  “Needed to think. Sometimes it’s best to leave me alone while I get my head on straight.”

  “I have money. We can get our own place.”

  “No.”

  “Might be best, until we work things out.”

  “Not necessary. Let me show you the guest room.”

  They walked upstairs, Brian carrying Seth. Andrea was greeted by a four-poster bed supported by debarked logs, a two-chair sitting area with a lamp and a wrought-iron legged table between them, a wood-burning fireplace and a large private bath.

  “Seth takes to you.”

  “Andrea…” He reached out to hold her but she moved away.

  She walked to and stared out a window. “I know. We barely know each other. I’ve brought you a child you certainly didn’t expect. We’re a burden. Not fair to you.”

  “We have some decisions to make.”

  She nodded while he crossed the hall and put the little one in his room.

  They returned to the great room, sat at opposite ends of the couch, the tension between them forcing them apart like the similar ends of two magnets. The fireplace flashed yellow flames, providing pleasant warmth and a visual focus while their minds raced through the vagaries of their situation.

  After a few minutes silence, Brian curled against the end of the couch. Without looking at her, he asked, “Rodney decided not to accompany you?”

  “He divorced me.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Brian said. “I was shocked to receive the letter asking if you could visit. In Oz, you were against coming to the States because of the violence.”

  “If Seth thinks like you or me, it’ll take a crazy dad like you to raise him.”

  A cold silence enveloped them. Only interrupted by an occasional pop or crack from the fireplace.

  Andrea broke the quiet. “Out the guest room window, I could see a large garden with a tall fence.”

  “The fence keeps the deer out. This is a large property; not a sheep station but a country girl might find solace working the garden and working the other acreage…”

  She stared at the fire as if she didn’t hear him.

  He continued, “We alternate clover, wheat, soy, and corn on the balance of the acreage. A neighbor tends it. I get a percentage.”

  “Thank you. I’ll give it some thought.”

  “Drink?”

  �
�White wine.”

  Brian left the room briefly, returned with two wine goblets, handed one to her. “Andrea,” he said as he again curled tight against the end of the couch opposite her. “I’m Jewish, which is an important part of my life.”

  “I remembered. Took care of that; studied, dipped and everything, before he was born.”

  Shocked, he stared at her then mumbled, “Thank you.” Andrea glanced at him, replied with a brief smile.

  Brian asked, “How’d you know we’d get together?”

  She shrugged. “Didn’t…but believed the man I knew during our six days would want to be involved in Seth’s upbringing, if given the chance.”

  “How did you know whether I was alone…?”

  “Didn’t know.”

  “All the way from Oz…”

  “I understood you might have someone significant in your life…but as long as you’re involved in Seth’s life…knew I’d be satisfied.”

  “We disagreed about some things…living in the US, for instance.”

  She pulled a blanket off the back of the couch, covered herself then tucked the blanket around her. Andrea said, “Argued about many things but we still felt an attachment to each other, except issues I couldn’t talk about.” She pulled her knees against her chest, wrapping the blanket tighter. She rocked a bit then said, “Your take on subjects we disagreed on?”

  Brian sighed and shrugged. “Some things resolved. Others not so much, but we still had an excellent relationship.” He shook his head, briefly glanced at her. “We each have issues. I still find things from the war upset me.” He paused for a bit, staring at the fire then asked, “How did you and Rodney handle differences?”

  “Poorly. With silence…for days at a time; nothing ever resolved. Eventually tore us apart. He wanted a rancher’s life with a rancher’s wife. I gave him neither. Wasn’t fair of me to bring my “Sturm und Drang” into his life. Rodney knew Seth wasn’t his. He eventually used that to divorce me. He was…” She cursed. “Mostly busy with the damn sheep anyway.” She cursed again. “We never talked about our relationship like you and I did. He was tuned into the sheep but not me.”