The War Within

by Yolanda Wallace

  Helen tried to put weight on her injured ankle. She fell to her knees before she managed to take two steps. Robinson moved toward her.

  “Meredith, help me do a fireman’s carry. I’ll take the left side. You get the right.”

  Meredith quickly moved into position. Helen wrapped her arms around their shoulders while they reached under her legs and locked their arms together.

  “Ready?” Robinson asked. “On three. One, two, three.”

  Meredith used all her remaining strength to help lift Helen off the ground and carry her through the jungle. She ducked each time she heard a bullet fly past her head, hoping the next one wouldn’t find its mark. She wanted to stop when they reached the clearing, too tired to go on and too scared to run out into the open.

  “Almost there,” Robinson said. “You can do it.”

  The adrenaline surge provided by Robinson’s gentle encouragement gave Meredith the burst of energy she needed to make the final push. She half-walked, half-ran as they carried Helen to the waiting helicopter.

  “Where’s the rest of your crew?” the copilot asked as they climbed onboard. “We need to get off the ground now.”

  “They’re on the way,” Robinson said. “About two minutes back.”

  “From the sounds of that firefight, we don’t have two minutes.”

  Meredith peered out one of the windows. The gunfire was getting closer. The jungle moved as if it had come to life. Then Lt. Col. Daniels burst into the clearing. Sgt. Meadows and his men were right behind her.

  Meredith counted heads, starting with the people still on the ground and ending with the ones already on board. “Eighteen.” Everyone had made it out of the village and, miracle of miracles, no one seemed to be hurt.

  Then Lt. Col. Daniels went down.

  “Billie!”

  Robinson leaned forward, straining to help but unable to do so from afar. Meredith grabbed her and held on to make sure she didn’t bolt out of the chopper and try to rescue Lt. Col. Daniels on her own. Meredith held her breath as the LTC writhed on the ground in obvious pain.

  “Look,” Robinson said. “She’s getting up.”

  Lt. Col. Daniels staggered to her feet favoring her left arm. A patch of red had bloomed on her shoulder and was beginning to spread. She moved toward the helicopter. The faster she ran, the bigger the patch began to grow. Meredith hoped the bullet hadn’t hit an artery or she could bleed out before they made it back to base. If they made it back to base.

  Lt. Col. Daniels and the infantrymen were a few feet from the chopper when their pursuers appeared at the edge of the jungle.

  “Hurry up!” the pilot yelled. “We need to get airborne before they get set up.”

  Meredith looked at the enemy soldiers. Two were on their knees. They lifted rocket launchers to their shoulders and took aim. Defenseless, all she could do was pray their weapons wouldn’t find their mark.

  Robinson pulled Lt. Col. Daniels up the ramp. The LTC collapsed as soon as she was onboard. Robinson draped her across her lap and cradled her head in her arms. Robinson’s eyes were wide, but showed no signs of panic when they settled on Meredith’s. Meredith felt the connection that had formed between them. No matter what happened during the next few minutes or over the course of the war, they would be bound by the events of this day for the rest of their lives.

  “Now’s the time for you to do that thing you do,” Robinson said after the ramp lifted and the chopper slowly—too slowly—began to rise into the air.

  Meredith reached inside her shirt and pulled out her dog tags. She fingered the engraved metal as if each letter were a rosary bead.

  She heard a whoosh as the first rocket flew into the air. She braced herself for impact. She prepared to die.

  As she comforted herself with thoughts of walking down the aisle in a flowing white dress and carrying, bearing, and holding a child, the rocket passed less than a foot in front of the chopper’s nose. The second just missed the front rotor. The copilot called out each near miss. The chopper’s engine whined as the pilot gunned the throttle.

  “Okay,” the copilot said with an audible sigh of relief, “we’re out of range.”

  Meredith’s body sagged as all the tension she had built up since the Vietcong appeared suddenly left her muscles. She felt simultaneously drained and exhilarated. Coming so close to death had made her appreciate life. She had so much to be thankful for, starting with the brave people on the chopper with her and ending with a wonderful man who was anxiously awaiting her return.

  “Show of hands,” Lt. Col. Daniels said weakly. “How many of you could use a change of underwear right now?”

  The men laughed, accepting her as one of their own. Meredith crawled over to her to take a look at the bullet hole in her shoulder.

  “Where the hell did the VC come from?” Lt. Col. Daniels asked after the laughter died down.

  “Tunnels under the village,” Sgt. Meadows said. “I spotted the entrance to one of them just before all hell broke loose.”

  “Does Command know about this?”

  “They will as soon as you get back to base and debrief General Westmoreland.”

  With Lt. Col. Daniels wounded, Meredith had expected Sgt. Meadows to break the chain of command in an attempt to earn brownie points with high command. He was obviously a man of honor instead of ambition.

  “How’s the wing?” he asked.

  Lt. Col. Daniels peered at her bleeding shoulder as Meredith examined her wound. “It’s a through and through.” She raised her head to get a better view. “I’ll end up with a nasty scar—two of them, in fact—but I’ll live.”

  “Looks like you got your ticket punched.” Meadows sounded almost envious. “You’re going to make it home before I do.”

  Lt. Col. Daniels shook her head. “I’ve got too much to do here to even think about going home. A couple stitches and I’ll be fine. Right, Chase?”

  “You’ll need more than a couple stitches. More like a couple dozen.”

  Lt. Col. Daniels shrugged. “Six of one, half a dozen of the other.”

  Robinson passed Meredith a pair of scissors from her first aid kit. Meredith cut away Lt. Col. Daniels’s sleeve. Then she disinfected the wound and packed the hole to stop the bleeding. She wrapped the wound tight and secured the bandage with medical tape.

  After she finished tending to Lt. Col. Daniels, she found a seat and tried to come to terms with what had just happened. She examined the sea of faces surrounding her. Everyone talked and laughed easily, bonded by the traumatic experience they had just shared. Was this how it was for men in the bush? Was this how lifelong friendships were formed? If so, Meredith thought she had forged several today.

  Helen, who had changed film when she boarded the helicopter, quickly exhausted another roll. “How does it feel to complete your first mission?” she asked, reloading yet again.

  Meredith couldn’t put what she was feeling into words. She had never felt such camaraderie. She was honored to be able to serve alongside these men and women. She was so proud to be part of this group—and even prouder to have Lt. Col. Daniels as her commanding officer. Was there no limit to what she or any woman could do?

  “I’m just glad it’s over,” she said, but it felt more like the beginning than the end.

  Chapter Seven

  “Why the beginning?” Jordan asked.

  “You might say it sounds strange, but that was the day I realized how much I cared for…everyone. I thought I was going to lose Natalie. I thought George was going to lose me. For me, that was the day everything changed.”

  “You fell in love with Papa George while bullets were whizzing over your head?”

  “Nothing that dramatic. My feelings for him began to shift in a more romantic direction after Saigon. In Xom Que, I was too busy trying to stay alive than fall in love. Over breakfast that morning, I could tell how much George cared about me. As I lay in the jungle a few hours later praying not to die, I regretted not sharing my feelings w
ith him and everyone else I cared about. I regretted not saying, ‘I love you,’ when I had the chance.”

  “Well, you weren’t exactly the touchy-feeling type back then, Gran.” Grandma Meredith winced as if her words had struck a sensitive spot. Jordan pretended not to see it. “But at least you’re making up for it now. I’ve always heard there were no atheists in foxholes. I didn’t know they were overrun with romantics, too.”

  “There’s no faster way to get in touch with your feelings than to come face-to-face with your own mortality. When I was curled up in the dirt trying not to get caught in the crossfire, all I wanted was for the people I loved to know how much they meant to me. I wanted to get out of that jungle and tell them so.”

  “And you did.”

  “And I did.”

  Grandma Meredith seemed even more surprised by her story of survival than Jordan was. Jordan tapped the brakes, slowing to five miles per hour above the posted speed limit. She usually drove at least ten miles over the designated limit when she was on the interstate, but she wanted Grandma Meredith to finish her story before they got to Jekyll Island. If she dropped the thread now, she might not pick it up again when they arrived. She’d be more concerned with unpacking the car, shopping for groceries, and getting settled into the house she had rented for the summer. Even now, she was digging out the long list of instructions the homeowner had sent her. Those things were important, but Jordan wanted to know what had happened during the rest of her tour. It had taken her this long to detail two months and there were another ten to go.

  The needle on the gas gauge hovered over the quarter-tank line. Jordan decided to fill up sooner rather than later. She moved into the right lane, took the next exit, and tried to find the cheapest prices. A BP station was closest, but she hadn’t stopped at one since the company’s negligence contributed to the oil spill that had devastated the Gulf Coast. She pulled into an acceptable station, parked next to an available pump, and shut off the engine. She unbuckled her seat belt but didn’t get out of the car.

  At the rate they were going, the summer would end before Grandma Meredith’s story did. Not that Jordan was complaining. She had discovered so many things about Grandma Meredith she never knew—and so much more she had never suspected.

  She wasn’t surprised Grandma Meredith had experienced brushes with death—she had been in the middle of a war, after all—but she had no clue she’d had a brief flirtation with another woman. She might have to adjust Grandma Meredith’s Kinsey score. That zero was starting to look a little wobbly.

  Jordan marveled at how well her grandparents’ unconventional love story had turned out. Then she reminded herself what Grandma Meredith had said when they began this leg of their trip. As much as she had loved Papa George, she had loved someone else even more.

  Had Grandma Meredith’s attraction to Natalie Robinson been more than fleeting? Was she the one Grandma Meredith had cared for all this time?

  Nah. Couldn’t be. She would have told me before now. I know she would.

  Jordan got out of the car, started the pump, and stuck her head in the open driver’s side window while the gas flowed into the tank.

  “Did you and Papa George get to go on R&R together?”

  “No. His orders and mine came through at the same time and we ended up in different cities. He went to Bangkok and I went to Vũng Tàu.”

  “I was hoping Lt. Col. Daniels was able to arrange a romantic getaway for you.”

  Grandma Meredith frowned as if an unpleasant memory had just resurfaced. “The LTC was something of a miracle worker, but there were some things even she couldn’t fix.”

  *

  December 15, 1967

  Vũng Tàu

  Each time she was called to Lt. Col. Daniels’s office, Meredith felt like a recalcitrant high school student who had been summoned to see the principal. At least she had company this time. Robinson was by her side as she stood at attention in front of Lt. Col. Daniels’s paperwork-strewn desk. Flynn sat nearby taking notes. The woman probably slept with a clipboard in her hands.

  “At ease.”

  As Meredith and Robinson relaxed their stiff postures, Lt. Col. Daniels leaned back in her chair. The sling she had worn for nearly a month was gone, though she still favored her left shoulder from time to time.

  “I want to go over the ground rules before you head out. Vũng Tàu is known as Sin City for a reason. There are over a hundred bars in the area. Most of them are named for American towns and landmarks to make us feel at home. In the bars and on the street, anything can be had for the right price. As long as none of the local laws are broken, the military tends to look the other way. You’ll probably run into some of the Allied troops on the beach or in town. Aussie and Kiwi forces are headquartered nearby, as well as several of our Army and Navy support units. You might see some off-duty VC as well. Rumor has it their forces take R&R there, too. Unconfirmed reports say the line of barbed wire stretching from the jungle to the water line on the northern end of the beach was put in place to separate the VC from the Allies. Be careful, no matter where you are. The VC might not be your only enemies this weekend. Some of the men you’ll come across haven’t seen a woman in months. When their money runs out, they might be tempted to take from you—by force, if necessary—what the ‘beach girls’ won’t give them without the correct fee. Look out for each other. If you leave your hotel for any reason, make sure you don’t do it alone.”

  “Ma’am. Yes, ma’am.”

  “There are a few nurses stationed at the base hospital in Vũng Tàu,” Lt. Col. Daniels said, “but R&R on the base itself is limited to servicemen. Thanks to Uncle Sam, a room has been reserved for each of you in the Majestic, a hotel near the beach. You should have a perfect vantage point to see some rather interesting sights. And that’s putting it mildly.”

  Meredith didn’t care about the random couplings of horny GIs. She was more interested in crisp cotton sheets, a real bed instead of a bunk she could never get truly comfortable on no matter how exhausted she was, and all the sea air she could draw into her lungs.

  “Every deuce and a half we have here in Long Binh is either spoken for or out of commission, so a flight crew will chopper you to Vũng Tàu and back. I’m sure the pilots and gunners will thank you profusely for the respite. A trip to Vũng Tàu is a reward that doesn’t come down the pike very often.”

  Meredith wasn’t looking forward to boarding a helicopter again after the bullet-riddled flight out of Xom Que, but she preferred a short, relatively smooth chopper ride to the longer, bumpier one she would have had to endure in the back of an uncomfortable transport truck. By the time they arrived, her bottom would have been so tender she probably wouldn’t have been able to sit for a week.

  “After you land, someone from the motor pool will drive you to your hotel. You’ll be given a stipend for meals and incidentals, but you’ll be on your own while you’re there.”

  Flynn handed Meredith and Robinson an envelope filled with cash. Meredith could almost taste the freedom. Three whole days of peace and quiet. Three days without reveille or roll call. Three days of living without having to worry about the dying. And three days of trying to figure out where she and Robinson stood.

  Robinson had been much more relaxed the last month or so, and she was smiling a lot more in general. She seemed, for lack of a better word, happy. Meredith wanted to know what had happened to change her attitude, but they hadn’t had a chance to talk—really talk—since Xom Que. Meredith wanted to talk to her about that day—and the night in the pool. Because she couldn’t get either out of her mind.

  “If you miss your transport and fail to return to base as expected, you will be considered AWOL and you will be brought up on charges. Enjoy your time off, but don’t do anything stupid. That means no overnight visitors in your rooms, no embarrassing incidents in town, and no vanishing acts when your leave is up. Don’t make me come looking for you, ladies. Because when I find you—and I will find you—you’
ll wish I hadn’t. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Ma’am. Yes, ma’am.”

  Lt. Col. Daniels’s expression, so hard one moment, quickly softened. “I wish I was going with you, but someone’s got to do the work around here.” She scooted closer to her desk and shuffled a pile of paperwork into a neat stack. “Dismissed.”

  Meredith and Robinson saluted, picked up their duffels, and walked out.

  “Transport doesn’t leave for another thirty minutes,” Robinson said. “I’m going to head back to my hooch to wait for mail call.”

  “I’ll go with you. The only mail I ever get is twice-monthly letters from my mother. I enjoy the updates from home, but I could do without the constant prodding for me to reconsider my decision and come home. The only way I can return to the States before the end of my tour is if I was wounded or pregnant. One I hope will never happen, the other not for a few more years.”

  “I’m sure George would make a good father.”

  “You think so?” Meredith’s enthusiasm more than made up for Robinson’s decided lack of it. “I’ll have plenty of time to find out after the war’s over.”

  “If the war ever ends. The conflict has been dragging on for years with no resolution in sight. I doubt anything happens to change that any time soon.”

  Meredith felt confident she and George would eventually be reunited if the war managed to separate them, but she wasn’t so sure about her and Robinson. She feared the end of her tour would mark the end of their friendship as well.

  When her hitch was up, she planned to return home, get a job in a civilian hospital or doctor’s office, and settle down. Robinson would most likely reenlist as she’d already done three times before. Unless Meredith’s plans changed by next summer, she and Robinson would be reduced to pen pals.

  Meredith hoped they’d stay in touch after the war ended, but exchanging letters didn’t seem like enough. How could a few words on a page capture the essence of someone as complex and confounding as Natalie Robinson? Only the real thing would do. And the real thing would be thousands of miles away. Meredith already felt the pain of their parting and they hadn’t even said good-bye.