“You don’t think women are capable of being good soldiers?”
“I think everything has its limits. I believe women can do anything they set their minds to, but they don’t belong on the front lines. No one does.”
His hands were balled into tightly clenched fists. As part of the motor pool, he had spent more time on various bases around the country than he had on patrol. At moments like these, he seemed to question the role Uncle Sam had assigned him in this tragic play. Should he be content to ride out the war in relative safety shuttling dignitaries back and forth, or should he fight for an assignment in-country?
Meredith doubted he would be comfortable in either locale—and she suspected his uncertainty was the main reason he was upset about her participation in today’s mission. She had no doubts about her role in the war, but he seemed consumed by doubts about his.
“Orders are orders, but you had a choice,” he said softly. “You didn’t have to volunteer for this mission.”
“I know, but I wanted to.”
“Are you sure? I mean really sure? I want to know if you’re boarding the chopper today because you want to or because Nat asked you to.”
Meredith didn’t respond. Not because she didn’t want to, but because she didn’t know how.
“Tell the truth. Nat put the idea in your head, didn’t she?”
“She told me about it, but she didn’t talk me into it, if that’s what you’re asking. No one can convince me to do something I don’t want to do, you included. I’m going because I want to.”
Meredith glanced across the room. Robinson was sitting with Helen Cummings, the Post reporter who would be accompanying them today. The room was crowded, but their table was otherwise empty. As if no one wanted to be quoted saying something on or off the record.
Helen was wearing brown cargo pants, an open-collared shirt, and a tan safari jacket. A brown fedora placed at a rakish angle sat atop a shock of lustrous dark hair. Each of her many pockets bulged, stuffed with pens, notepads, extra rolls of film for the bulky camera dangling from her neck, and spare cassettes for the tape recorder resting next to her untouched breakfast tray. She reminded Meredith of Martha Gellhorn, the glamorous war correspondent, journalist, and travel writer whose tumultuous relationship with Ernest Hemingway had attracted even more attention than her award-winning work.
Helen and Robinson sat on opposite sides of the table. Helen leaned forward to capture Robinson’s every word with her tape recorder. An open notebook lay within easy reach. She said something that made Robinson smile, something Meredith noted was happening with increasing frequency during the course of their meal.
She thought she was the only one who could make Robinson smile like that, but Helen was proving her wrong. She shoveled her food into her mouth without tasting it. George regained her attention by gently stroking her hand.
“Sometimes I think you want to be with her more than you want to be with me.”
The words rang in her head as she took temperatures in Xom An Loc, disinfected elephant grass cuts in Đồng Xoài, and looked over her shoulder in Ap Bau Bang.
Did George’s words hold an element of truth? How could they? With him, she was comfortable. She knew exactly where she stood. She was sure of who she was and what was expected of her. With Robinson, nothing was certain. So why did she keep going back for more?
As the chopper prepared to land in Xom Que, the last stop on the trip, she thought back to Friday night when she had thoroughly embarrassed herself.
Robinson’s eyes had darkened when Meredith moved closer to her. When Meredith had said she wanted to kiss her, her expression had followed suit. She had released her grip on Meredith’s arms and slowly backed away. The distance between them had been less than a foot, but it had felt like more than a mile.
“What’s wrong?” Meredith’s voice had sounded small and childlike, even to her own ears. “Don’t you want to kiss me?”
“No.”
Meredith had felt almost crushing disappointment. “But I thought—”
“That it would be easy? That you’d ask me, I’d say yes, and you’d get to pat yourself on the back for taking a chance? You want to kiss me because you’re curious about how it would feel. You want to kiss me because, for you, it’s a game you think you’re not supposed to be playing. For me, this isn’t a game. I don’t want to kiss you, Meredith. I need to. Sometimes I need to kiss you even more than I need to breathe.”
The yearning in Robinson’s eyes had been so great Meredith had wanted to turn away, but Robinson’s penetrating gaze had held her fast.
“Knowing you don’t feel the same way hurts. Being around you hurts.”
“Is that why I haven’t seen much of you since Saigon? Have you been avoiding me?”
Meredith had desperately wanted her to say no. She abhorred the idea she might be causing her pain, but Robinson’s response had only confirmed her suspicions. Given voice to her fears.
“I asked Lt. Col. Daniels to change my shifts.”
Tears had welled in Meredith’s eyes. “Because of me?”
“For the good of the unit. I can’t do my job when I’m around you.”
“That isn’t true. We make a great team. We worked so well together in the aftermath of the Regency bombing Lt. Col. Daniels wanted to give us medals afterward.”
“That was before.”
“Before what?”
“Before I started wishing I was the one who got to stay with you that night instead of George.”
Meredith’s stomach flipped as the chopper pilot banked sharply and located a spot in an open field to set the bird down. The infantrymen spilled out of the opening at the back of the helicopter as soon as the exit ramp touched the ground, their M-16s cocked and ready. Meredith watched from the top of the ramp as they scanned the area.
“Clear!” the squad leader said.
Lt. Col. Daniels led the rest of the team off the helicopter. “Keep your head down!” she yelled as Meredith disembarked.
Meredith was tired and hungry. She had been too upset to finish her breakfast and she’d already burned off the C-rations she’d eaten for lunch. In her weakened state, the wind from the chopper’s whirling rotors nearly blew her off her feet. She clutched her dwindling cache of medical supplies as she ran in a crouch.
She looked back after she heard a thud, followed by a yowl of pain. Helen had tripped on something in the thick underbrush and gone down. Her helmet askew, she sat rubbing her right ankle.
Meredith turned to help her, but Robinson waved her away. “I’ll take care of her. Get to cover.”
“You asked for my help. Why won’t you let me give it to you?”
Before Robinson could reply, squad leader James Meadows grabbed Meredith’s arm and urged her forward. “Come on, Lieutenant. Let’s dee-dee.”
Meredith had been exposed to the slang term a time or two, but had never heard it defined. Assuming Sgt. Meadows wanted her to pick up the pace, she followed him and the rest of the infantrymen to the thicket of trees that surrounded the tiny village. She prayed they weren’t running headlong into an ambush. The group had been lucky so far, even in Ap Bau Bang, but luck eventually ran out. She didn’t have a weapon and had been given only rudimentary firearms training after she volunteered. If they encountered hostiles, how was she supposed to defend herself—by throwing a roll of gauze at them? She doubted that defense would prove particularly effective.
“Your ankle doesn’t feel broken,” she heard Robinson say, “but your mobility will be hampered. I want you to stay in the chopper until we get back from the village. I’ll take a closer look then.”
“There’s no fucking way I’m missing out on this story,” Helen said. “The pilots can babysit the plane. I’m going with you.”
“But—”
“No buts. I’m going with you and that’s final.”
Meredith looked back. Robinson was sitting on her haunches, a look of grudging admiration on her face. “It’s b
een fifty forevers since I’ve met someone as stubborn as you.”
“You should look in the mirror more often.”
“Shut up and hold on to me.”
Meredith heard more amusement than anger in Robinson’s words. When she took another look over her shoulder, Robinson was helping Helen to her feet.
Helen put an arm around Robinson’s shoulders and leaned against her for support as they made halting progress. They quickly established a rhythm and began to pick up speed.
Meredith churned her rubbery legs as fast as she could. She could hear Robinson and Helen crashing through the underbrush. Finally, they reached the trees. The chopper remained on the ground, but with the exit ramp elevated, Meredith felt cut off. She wondered if the ground troops felt the same sense of disconnectedness when they bedded down in enemy territory each night.
Lt. Col. Daniels placed a finger against her lips, signaling for silence. Everyone stood as still as statues. No one spoke. Meredith listened for movement in the jungle, but all she could hear was the pounding of her heart and the rush of air in and out of her burning lungs.
“Move out,” Lt. Col. Daniels said quietly a few minutes later. “Last stop. Let’s make it a good one.”
Sgt. Meadows and three of his men led the advance. Four more brought up the rear. They were less than two miles from base. Less than two miles from being home free. So why couldn’t Meredith shake the feeling they were on the verge of impending disaster? Meadows seemed to sense something similar.
“This doesn’t smell right to me, ma’am,” he said to Lt. Col. Daniels after they reached the village. “Something’s missing.”
When Meredith looked around, she saw the same things she had seen in the other villages: locals struggling to maintain their way of life while a war went on around them.
A small garden filled with green, leafy vegetables was being tended by a wizened woman wielding a carved wooden hoe. A few feet away, four goats bleated in a makeshift pen that looked ready to fall apart if a strong breeze blew through. Women of all ages stood in the open doorways of grass-roofed huts, curious but shy children hanging on to their legs as if they were security blankets.
“There are no men here,” Lt. Col. Daniels said.
“Bingo.” Sergeant Meadows turned his head and spat a line of tobacco juice on the ground. A few scattered droplets clung to his lower lip. The rest dribbled down his chin, but he didn’t bother to wipe them away. He adjusted his rifle, shoving the butt under his arm and pointing the muzzle at the ground. “Either someone planned a big fishing trip and didn’t invite me, or this place is full of sympathizers. Either way, I suggest we do what we came here for and do it in a hurry so we can dee-dee back to post.”
“I agree,” Lt. Col. Daniels said. “Chase, help Robinson assess our visitor. If she can’t walk under her own steam, take one of the infantrymen and get her back on the chopper ASAP. Krug and I will assist the medics.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Meredith handed her bag of supplies to Dolores Krug, a tough-as-nails fifteen-year nursing vet who was on her fourth tour. Dolores didn’t have the greatest bedside manner but was the most experienced member of their unit. Today, a level head would come in handier than a warm heart.
While Dolores and Lt. Col. Daniels introduced themselves to the hesitant villagers, Meredith joined Robinson and Helen at the edge of the village. Robinson was trying to examine Helen’s ankle, but Helen was so busy taking pictures she wouldn’t sit still.
“What do you need?” Meredith asked.
“I need you to hold her down long enough for me to determine if we’re dealing with a break or simply a bad sprain.”
“There’s no need to resort to violence, ladies.” Helen set her camera down and leaned against the base of a wax apple tree. Overripe pieces of the pink, pear-shaped fruit littered the ground. Meredith brushed some of them aside so she could kneel next to Robinson and Helen. “Do all nurses have as much responsibility as the ones in your outfit seem to?” Helen asked as Robinson began to examine her in earnest.
“It depends on where you’re stationed.” Robinson ran her hands up Helen’s ankle. Meredith could see the worn black leather of Helen’s boot beginning to bulge. By the time they got back to base, they might have to cut the boot to get it off. “On some bases, nurses are allowed to perform simple procedures like digging out shrapnel or closing up after surgery because the medics are so busy running to the next casualty. On other bases, the docs don’t let you do anything except hand them a scalpel when they ask for it.”
“You certainly look better than any of the doctors I’ve seen thus far. Or maybe I’m just a sucker for a woman in uniform.”
Helen’s voice was designed to be heard above the din in busy newsrooms and crowded bars. It easily carried to the infantryman who stood less than twenty feet away. He turned and eyed them up and down. Then, shifting his rifle from one shoulder to another, he walked away and said something to two of his companions. The three of them looked over and laughed none too politely.
“Ouch!” Helen flinched and hissed in pain after Robinson exerted pressure on her ankle. “I was about to compliment you on your gentle touch. Now I’m glad I didn’t.”
“Your ankle isn’t broken, but you’ll need to stay off it for a while.”
“Perish the thought. I’m supposed to fly to Da Nang in a few days. There’s no way I’m missing out on such a plum assignment. Give me some aspirin and a cane and I’ll be fine. Though a little TLC wouldn’t hurt. When will you take R&R you earned from this trip? Perhaps I could meet you in Vũng Tàu when you’re there.”
Robinson cut her eyes at the trio of infantrymen staring in their direction. “Nothing’s been decided yet, ma’am.”
“Ma’am? Why must you be so formal? Are you the shy, retiring type, or are my charms simply lost on you?”
“I don’t know what you mean, ma’am.”
How could a woman so intelligent be so ignorant of the way things were? Meredith cleared her throat and indicated the men standing guard. Helen followed her gaze. A look of recognition crossed her face, quickly followed by one of resignation.
“Oh, I get it.” Helen picked up her camera and snapped a picture of Lt. Col. Daniels surrounded by smiling children. “It’s unfortunate you two are unable to be open about who you are.”
“But I’m not—”
Robinson quieted her with a look mixed with equal parts anger and disappointment. Meredith felt disappointed, too. In herself. Why had she been so quick to try to correct Helen’s assumption about her?
“Times are changing. It’s a different world out there.”
Robinson opened a bottle of aspirin and shook out two pills. “You’re not in the world right now, ma’am. You’re in the ’Nam.”
Helen swallowed the aspirin with a sip of water from Robinson’s canteen. Then she scribbled something in her notepad. “That’s a good line. I may have to use it in a story. Are you sure you don’t want to sit down for an in-depth interview?”
Robinson offered her hand and pulled Helen to her feet. “What could I possibly have to say that would interest your readers?”
“Plenty. I’ve got an hour’s worth of tape in my pocket and I have enough in here for a week’s worth of copy.”
Helen held up the notepad. A neat round hole appeared in the center of it as if by magic. Shreds of paper floated to the ground like flakes of snow, a rare sight this far from the mountain regions. Meredith watched the flakes fall, suddenly realizing this year would be the first time in a long time she wouldn’t have a white Christmas. Helen seemed just as hypnotized. Robinson broke both of them out of their respective trances.
“Gunfire! Get down!”
Meredith dove for cover. Robinson and Helen joined her in the trees. Helen lay on her belly like a soldier in the trenches, her camera pointed at the action. Her fingers worked the shutter and film advance lever so fast Meredith doubted she took time to focus on what she was shooting.
&n
bsp; Robinson wrapped her arms around her helmet, brought her knees up to her chest, and curled up tight, making herself as small a target as possible. Meredith mirrored her position and squeezed her eyes shut.
In her mind, she could see George shaking his head in disapproval and hear him saying, “I told you so.” In reality, what she heard was the steady pop of gunfire and the clamor of competing voices. Lt. Col. Daniels and Sgt. Meadows barked orders, though their commands seemed to be at odds. Sgt. Meadows was telling his men to return fire while Lt. Col. Daniels was telling them not to shoot because women and children were in the line of fire. On the other side of the village, male Vietnamese voices were yelling something Meredith couldn’t understand. Chaos reigned.
Throughout it all, Meredith could hear the constant clicking of Helen’s camera as she snapped picture after picture. Meredith thought of Dickey Chappelle, the female photojournalist who had been killed two years before while on patrol with a Marine platoon on a search and destroy mission south of Chu Lai. Chappelle was the first female reporter in history to be killed in action. Meredith wondered if Helen was about to be the second.
Meredith forced herself to open her eyes. Men dressed in black were swarming out of the jungle on the other side of the village. The muzzles of their AK-47s flashed and bucked as they fired round after round. She had heard about these men. They weren’t the uniformed, professional soldiers who launched well-planned offensives at the front lines. These were local guerillas, teenagers given minimal amounts of training after being pressured or shamed into joining the Vietcong.
“We’re outnumbered!” Lt. Col. Daniels yelled above the noise of the firefight. “We can’t win this one. Let’s get out of here with as little collateral damage as possible.” She gave the signal to retreat.
Sgt. Meadows ordered his men to lay down cover fire while the medical personnel ran toward the jungle.
“Damn!” Helen sounded so distressed Meredith thought she had been shot. Meredith was trying to see where she had been hit when Helen held up her camera and said, “I’m out of film.”
“You can change rolls when you get back to the chopper,” Robinson said. “Can you walk?”
The War Within Page 12
