Sand in the Wind

by Robert Roth

  Payne watched him carefully, while saying, “You shouldn’t have cut it there. It’ll be too tough.”

  Childs looked up with disgust. “You can have one of the wings.” He then looked back down at the piece of meat while turning it over in his hand. Quickly lowering his head, he grabbed the end between his teeth. The blade cut off a small piece just below his lips. He pushed it into his mouth and slowly began to chew. The men watched, some smiling, all astonished. Childs started to nod as he chewed. “Damn tough, but not bad. Not bad at all.”

  “Let me try some,” Kovacs commanded, while grabbing the meat away. Childs proffered the knife, and Kovacs quickly cut off a piece and started to chew. He also began to nod, then spoke with his mouth still full, “He’s right. This ain’t bad. Tough, but I’ve tasted tougher.”

  The others were now anxious to try some. They urged Childs to cut them pieces in excited, childlike voices. Some of them even giggled and Chalice began laughing madly, staggering about holding his sides. Unnoticed, he made his way to the other remains of the corpse. With a wild grin on his face and still laughing, he stuck his rifle barrel into the eye socket of the charred skull and ripped it away from the rest of the body. He staggered back to the group holding the rifle and skull over his head. A few of the men turned towards him with wild smiles on their faces. Chalice tried to speak, but he was laughing so hard he couldn’t get the first word out.

  Soon all of the men were gathered around Childs in a circle. Kramer had already fed some to Harmon without telling him what it was. Everyone was eating except Tony 5, Pablo, and Payne. The others continuously bugged them until Payne finally gave in. While he chewed, he found it necessary to try to convince Tony 5 and Pablo to try some. After Payne had been at it for a while, Tony blurted out, “It’s a sin.”

  This drew some disparaging sounds until Hamilton’s voice rang out over them. With one arm and finger raised in the air, he quoted, “The Lord hath provideth.” This brought some unsuccessfully muffled peals of laughter. Before it had ended, Chalice commented, “It’s a sin to kill.”

  Saving Tony the necessity of thinking up a reply, Sinclaire cut in, “Not if you eat it. That’s what my old man used to say. If you kill it, eat it. The bastard once made me eat a mole.”

  Hamilton recoiled at the thought, his face screwed up as if he had been sucking on a lemon. “God, how could anyone eat a mole?”

  “How did it taste?” Pablo asked.

  Sinclaire hesitated for a few seconds, then, looking at the piece of meat in his hand, he said, “Not as good as this.”

  Childs stopped carving and stared up at Tony. “Look at it this way, we didn’t rape his wife.”

  Payne asked, “Would you eat a woman, Tony?”

  In a nonchalant tone, Milton spoke for the first time. “I once had a pet duck, and I eat duck all the time.”

  Kovacs demanded another piece. Childs started to use the knife, then hesitated. “Light meat or dark?”

  “Yellow, please.”

  Forsythe decided to raise the level of the conversation. “Who says man is basically bad? He’s delicious. Just think how good he’d be with a little seasoning.”

  “Yeah,” Chalice agreed, “if only the Hunger Artist had known about this.” He hadn’t expected anyone to catch his remark, but to his surprise Roads half smiled while nodding to him.

  Kovacs said to Tony 5, “The Prof’s really flipped his lid, now.”

  Childs wrapped a piece of meat in a leaf and started eating it. Sinclaire was baffled. “What the fuck you doing?”

  “Tastes like lettuce. Besides, a balanced diet’s gotta have green vegetables in it. Got chlorophyll — good for your breath.”

  “No shit. You haven’t got anything for my armpits, do you?”

  The men finished what Childs had cut and sat around quietly. Childs picked up the knife again. “Any of you guys want some more? Could be your last meal for two days.” He had no takers.

  “Maybe we oughta pack a lunch,” Kovacs suggested. The only reason the men didn’t react wildly, was because they were tired of laughing. Kramer pulled a red smoke grenade off of Milton’s pack. He was just about to get up and throw it when five cracks from an AK-47 split the air. Before the second shot, most of the men were already flat on the ground.

  They lay motionless until Kramer shouted, “Get your gear and let’s get out of here.” He tossed the smoke grenade. A red cloud billowed down the slope, and Childs ran the squad along its edge. For over an hour they crashed through the brush at a frenzied pace — no thoughts of stopping or slowing down, only running — both away from and towards something. Hamilton and Chalice were carrying Fields’s stretcher directly in front of Kramer. He watched them struggle with it as they ran, barely keeping their balance. Kramer knew the men couldn’t keep up this pace for long. Just as he was about to order Childs to slacken it, the column slowed by itself. The reason for this was made clear by the sharp, hacking sound of Childs’s machete.

  The men bunched up and became frustrated by the slower pace, their feet moving up and down nervously. As the thicker brush enveloped them, the air became stiflingly heavy and sweat poured from their faces. A few of them struggled to get their canteens out and took long, greedy drinks. Vines and branches scraped against their faces, especially those of the men carrying stretchers. The further they went, the thicker the brush became. They took deep, forced breaths, seeming never able to get enough air in their lungs.

  Childs used the machete viciously to attack the brush, which seemed to take on a sinister air — fighting back at him, blocking his path, sucking the air from his lungs. His arms weakened and he started to use his body more than the machete, pushing forward and letting his momentum clear a path with his chest. The brush finally stopped him — the machete at his side and his body leaning on and supported by the branches and vines in front of him. The men bunched up in back of Childs. Hamilton offered to take the machete, but Childs refused to give it to him. He stepped back and started using it again.

  For during that instant when he had stood motionless, a familiar sound came to his ears unmuffled by the brush, the brush which stood between him and the sound — a sound that meant respite, comfort, and even pleasure; a sound that would break a path for and lead them to the lowlands — the sound of surging water. It quickly grew louder and every step seemed to promise the sight of it before his eyes, but no, it just increased with thunderous power — louder than it could possibly be, louder than the ocean itself. The noise of the machete and even his own breathing was muted by it. Then, with one powerful slash, the orange white light of the sun burst upon his face and left him blinded. His head jerked downward and away from it as his staggered steps left the brush behind — to his right a solid wall of rock, beneath his feet a ledge. His steps unconsciously lengthened. Then, as his stare moved from the ledge itself to its edge, he saw it — a hundred feet down and directly below him — a broad river of raging foam. He continued to walk, but with a dreamlike slowness, awed by the sight below. Finally, he stopped. The entire squad bunched along the ledge behind him — all of them staring numbly at the majestic violence of what lay beneath them. They put down the stretchers, and even Harmon sat up and leaned toward the edge. Each of them felt as if he were looking at something never before seen by man, and that no one besides himself could possibly be viewing it.

  They were on a ledge thirty yards long and a few feet wide. To their left, a stream of cool, flowing crystal burst from within the canopy. To their right and above them, a slashing river of foam cascaded over the rocks and fell a hundred feet straight down, leaving a crystal-covered passage along the ledge. Directly beneath them, the two currents met in a violent whirlpool. Thus joined, they cut a winding, eddy-filled path between rock and foliage until finally reaching the now visible valley below.

  The men stood transfixed, for how long none of them knew. Kramer felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to see Kovacs holding a star cluster. He gave an unconcerned nod. Kovacs sent it u
p, its swoosh muted by the thundering water. Five red flares soared above them. Kramer watched as they arched gracefully against the clear blue sky. He turned to Tony 5 and motioned with his head to pass the word to start again. Each man in turn picked up his ammo can, stretcher, or anything else he had laid down. They waited for Childs to start moving, their eyes still fastened on the river below. As Childs stepped between the sparkling curtain of water and the cliff, the strap on Chalice’s ammo can broke. Jumping back to avoid having it land on his foot, Chalice lost his balance. He dived away from the edge, unconsciously pushing his end of Fields’s stretcher over it. Hamilton, who was in front of him, still held fast; but as he let go with one hand so as to face the stretcher, Fields’s mutilated corpse slid from beneath the poncho.

  The men watched, motionless, faces reft of all save placid wonder, as the body moved, without falling, not even downward, merely hurtling away from them, farther and farther away, suddenly disappearing, tracelessly beneath the foam. They continued to stare — waiting, knowing that this was all they could or had to do. Finally, it surfaced and spun from the whirlpool. The river took it in its power; carrying it, like an insignificant piece of wood, between rocks and through eddies, spinning it furiously all the while like some compass needle gone wild — bearing it down towards the valley below.

  BOOK TWO

  And yet is not mankind itself, pushing on its blind way, driven by a dream of its greatness and its power upon the dark paths of excessive cruelty and excessive devotion? And what is the pursuit of truth, after all?

  Joseph Conrad, Lord Jim

  1. Da Nang

  Colonel Nash entered the officers’ hootch on Hill 65 and saw a lone, motionless figure lying on one of the cots. He walked towards it, recognizing Kramer even though he lay with his forearm across his eyes. “A little late to be sleeping, isn’t it?”

  Kramer slowly sat up. “Not sleeping, sir. Just trying to get rid of a headache.” Colonel Nash sat down facing Kramer on the adjacent cot. Even within the darkness of the hootch, Kramer had to squint as he nodded to the colonel. He lowered his eyes to the floor and shielded them with the palm of his hand. “What time is it, sir?”

  “A little past eleven.” Nash pointed to a bandage on the side of Kramer’s neck. “What’s that all about?”

  Kramer pressed his hand gently against the bandage. “Caught a little shrapnel in the ambush.”

  “Still in there?”

  “The Doc thinks he got it all out, but the swelling hasn’t gone down yet. I may have to go to Da Nang to get it X-rayed.”

  “That’s where I’m headed in a few minutes. . . . You didn’t waste much time getting your first Heart, a cheap one at that. If you were an enlisted man, one more would get you a job in the rear. . . . But, two more and you’ve got a ticket home.”

  “I’d settle for that.”

  Nash’s voice showed interest. “You would, eh?” Kramer made no reply. “I read your report. You’re lucky. It could have been worse.”

  Kramer looked up with a wry smile on his face, then lowered his head again. “I was just thinking about that — two men dead and I’m lucky.”

  “They won’t be your last.”

  “I don’t imagine they will.”

  “You can count on it, especially where you’re going.”

  “The Arizona?”

  “You heard already?”

  “Five minutes after I got off the chopper.”

  “Two days ago, the same day I told the company commanders. Word travels fast. I guess Charlie knew it before I did.”

  “When are we going in?”

  “Thursday.”

  “Five more days.”

  “Four.”

  “That’s right.”

  “I don’t want to go in there minus any of my officers. Maybe you better go to Da Nang with me.”

  “One of my men’s at First Med. I wouldn’t mind checking on him.”

  “Harmon?” Kramer nodded. “I’ve got a Purple Heart for him. You can come with me. . . . What exactly happened with that chopper that spotted you?”

  “He saw us when we were trying to get Fields’s body from the river. It—”

  “No, he saw you on the ledge. I heard him on the radio. He saw the body fall, only he didn’t know the man was already dead.”

  “He was there then? I guess we couldn’t hear him because of the falls. We didn’t see him for another hour, not until we first saw the body again.”

  “That’s right. He radioed-in that he lost sight of you when you climbed down from the ledge. He said he came in real low, but he couldn’t get your attention.”

  “The trail at the base of the ledge was covered for about a klick. We knew the body had gone farther than that, so we didn’t follow the edge of the river until the trail led us there. The body was a few hundred yards further down, caught between some rocks. Two of my men waded out to get it, but they slipped on the way back and it got loose. One of them almost drowned. We were getting him out when we spotted the chopper.”

  “That’s when you sent up the red star cluster?”

  “Yes sir, we were out of green. We’d already sent up one from the ledge.”

  “He saw both of them. He wasn’t sure whether you were out of green or you were warning him to stay away.”

  “Is that why he took off and came back with the gun ships? We weren’t even sure he saw us.”

  “No, that was another chopper. The first one had been looking for you for a long time. He was low on gas. You must have been pretty disgusted when you saw him leave.”

  “No, we were too busy trying to get the body. . . . We’d have made it down by ourselves.”

  “It took you another hour.”

  “Yes sir, we caught up with it two more times only to have it get away just before we reached it.”

  “I don’t have to tell you there was no excuse for only taking one radio.”

  “No, sir.”

  “You still should have made contact with Trippitt at the rendezvous point.”

  “We couldn’t get there until the day after.”

  “Trippitt says he waited.”

  “I know we were there. We couldn’t have missed the whole company.”

  “By the time you got there, he’d sent one platoon down to the edge of the canopy to get the resupplies, and another one back up to look for you.”

  “If there was anybody —”

  A corporal entered the hootch. “Sir, your chopper’s ready.” Nash stood up.

  “If anybody was there, we would have seen them.”

  “Well, either you or Trippitt can’t read a map.”

  “That’s what I think.”

  “As it turned out, the extra day didn’t make any difference anyway.” A wry smile appeared on Kramer’s face as Nash continued, “C’mon, let’s get to the LZ.”

  Neither Kramer nor Nash spoke as they walked to the landing zone. A four-man helicopter was waiting on the pad, its engine running. The corporal jumped into the back seat and Kramer followed him. Nash sat in front. As the helicopter left the pad, Kramer took a quick glance out the window, then stared straight ahead.

  He walked along the edge of the road, not to or from anywhere, just walking, making no progress, merely moving the distance between two points he neither knew nor was concerned about. Pablo walked towards him on the opposite side of the road — the person he wanted most to avoid. Pablo looked up, right through him. “Where you skatin’ to, Professor?”

  Chalice merely shook his head and kept walking, avoiding Pablo’s eyes, thinking, ‘Where am I going? Not skating,’ and he wasn’t. The one time he had actually anticipated going on a working party, hoping that the meaningless drudgery would dull his mind to blankness, this one time it had been canceled. Now he would have to remember, to think things out, to write them down.

  He actually didn’t know where he was going, at least not consciously. He knew he wanted to find a place where he could sit down, stop walking, where Pablo, wh
ere no one would be looking at him — to be alone. There was no conscious thought involved when he turned off the road, moved slowly between the ammo bunkers, found himself standing in front of the Buddhist shrine. “Yeah, I’ll go inside it,” he mumbled, as if chance had led him there.

  Chalice sat down against one of the inner walls, hidden, alone — the physical state helping to make the mental state more bearable. His eyes scanned the geometric designs painted upon the walls. He liked the shrine. It was something apart and insulated from the rest of the hill. He felt calmer, glad he had come upon it.

  Again his thoughts redrew the scene under the canopy. Comments that had been made repeated themselves randomly in his mind. They were funny, some of them; and for an instant a faint smile appeared on his lips. He saw himself sitting with the others around the burnt corpse. It all seemed less grotesque than before. But suddenly, a figure appeared, madly laughing, waving a rifle with a charred skull atop it: himself. Yes, this seemed, was grotesque.

  The scene became less vivid, and Chalice’s mind began to function rationally, as if the matter that concerned it was being absorbed by and carried along the very grooves of his brain. At first he made no attempt to penetrate the actions of the others, only his own actions. ‘Why — What caused me to become a part, a willing part?’ He tried to remember if he had been hungry. He recalled the dull pangs in his stomach as they stood outside the cave, his desire for a drag from the cigarette to stave them off. He was hungry then, undeniably; but that was the last time. There had been no thoughts about hunger as they rushed down the slope, no resentment about having to carry the stretcher, no sense that he was becoming weaker.

  Childs’s face appeared before him, looking up, the unseen knife in his hand. ‘Why did he look at me? Why was I the first one to know his thoughts?’ Chalice was sure that it never would have happened if Childs hadn’t been there. But it had happened. He saw Kramer’s impotent stare, waited for him to stop Childs, to say, “Are you crazy?” Instead he heard, “It’s up to you. Help yourselves if you want.” Yes, Chalice was sure Kramer could have stopped it. But he hadn’t. It was up to somebody else. Kovacs demanded the flesh. They all respected him. Tony 5, he could have stopped it. He tried, protested — “Just two days.” Chalice knew Tony was right. They all knew it — ‘two days, could have made it even without a copter’ — but Tony had stepped back, horrified, as he had said this. It was already too late. Pablo knew it — his eyes. He could see into their minds. It was too late. Still, Chalice remembered waiting for someone to stop it, to take the knife away from Childs. Instead there were only hands, reaching out greedily, begging for flesh.