Ransom had parked the jeep near my battalion headquarters five minutes before, and now he smiled as if he had explained everything.
“But what happened?” I asked. “How did you hear about it?”
He shrugged. “We learned all this in interrogation. When the women found the underground room, they knew the chief had forced the boys into sex, and then killed them. They didn’t know what he had done with the bodies, but they knew he had killed the boys. The next time the VC paid one of their courtesy calls, they told the cadre leader what they knew. The VC did the rest. They were disgusted—Trang had betrayed them, too—betrayed everything he was supposed to represent. One of the VC we captured took the chief downstairs into his underground room and chained the man to the posts, wrote the names of the dead boys and Trang’s daughters on the padding that covered the walls, and then . . . then they did what they did to him. They probably carried out the pieces and threw them into the excrement-pit. And over months, bit by bit, not all at once but slowly, everybody in the village moved out. By that time, they were seeing ghosts all the time. They had crossed a kind of border.”
“Do you think they really saw ghosts?” I asked him. “I mean, do you think they were real ghosts?”
“If you want an expert opinion, you’d have to ask Major Bachelor. He has a lot to say about ghosts.” He hesitated for a moment, and then leaned over to open my door. “But if you ask me, sure they did.”
I got out of the jeep and closed the door.
Ransom peered at me through the jeep’s window. “Take better care of yourself.”
“Good luck with your Bru.”
“The Bru are fantastic.” He slammed the jeep into gear and shot away, cranking the wheel to turn the jeep around in a giant circle in front of the battalion headquarters before he jammed it into second and took off to wherever he was going.
Two weeks later Leonard Hamnet managed to get the Lutheran chaplain at Crandall to write a letter to the Tin Man for him, and two days after that he was in a clean uniform, packing up his kit for an overnight flight to an Air Force base in California. From there he was connecting to a Memphis flight, and from there the Army had booked him onto a six-passenger puddlejumper to Look-out Mountain.
When I came into Hamnet’s tent he was zipping his bag shut in a zone of quiet afforded him by the other men. He did not want to talk about where he was going or the reason he was going there, and instead of answering my questions about his flights, he unzipped a pocket on the side of his bag and handed me a thick folder of airline tickets.
I looked through them and gave them back. “Hard travel,” I said.
“From now on, everything is easy,” Hamnet said. He seemed rigid and constrained as he zipped the precious tickets back into the bag. By this time his wife’s letter was a rag held together with scotch tape. I could picture him reading and rereading it, for the thousandth or two thousandth time, on the long flight over the Pacific.
“They need your help,” I said. “I’m glad they’re going to get it.”
“That’s right.” Hamnet waited for me to leave him alone.
Because his bag seemed heavy, I asked about the length of his leave. He wanted to get the tickets back out of the bag rather than answer me directly, but he forced himself to speak. “They gave me seven days. Plus travel time.”
“Good,” I said, meaninglessly, and then there was nothing left to say, and we both knew it. Hamnet hoisted his bag off his bunk and turned to the door without any of the usual farewells and embraces. Some of the other men called to him, but he seemed to hear nothing but his own thoughts. I followed him outside and stood beside him in the heat. Hamnet was wearing a tie and his boots had a high polish. He was already sweating through his stiff khaki shirt. He would not meet my eyes. In a minute a jeep pulled up before us. The Lutheran chaplain had surpassed himself.
“Goodbye, Leonard,” I said, and Hamnet tossed his bag in back and got into the jeep. He sat up straight as a statue. The private driving the jeep said something to him as they drove off, but Hamnet did not reply. I bet he did not say a word to the stewardesses, either, or to the cab drivers or baggage handlers or anyone else who witnessed his long journey home.
III
On the day after Leonard Hamnet was scheduled to return, Lieutenant Joys called Michael Poole and myself into his quarters to tell us what had happened back in Tennessee. He held a sheaf of papers in his hand, and he seemed both angry and embarrassed. Hamnet would not be returning to the platoon. It was a little funny. Well, of course it wasn’t funny at all. The whole thing was terrible—that was what it was. Someone was to blame, too. Irresponsible decisions had been made, and we’d all be lucky if there wasn’t an investigation. We were closest to the man, hadn’t we seen what was likely to happen? If not, what the hell was our excuse?
Didn’t we have any inkling of what the man was planning to do?
Well, yes, at the beginning, Poole and I said. But he seemed to have adjusted.
We have stupidity and incompetence all the way down the line here, said Lieutenant Elijah Joys. Here is a man who manages to carry a semi-automatic weapon through security at three different airports, bring it into a court-house, and carry out threats he made months before, without anybody stopping him.
I remembered the bag Hamnet had tossed into the back of the jeep; I remembered the reluctance with which he had zipped it open to show me his tickets. Hamnet had not carried his weapon through airport security. He had just shipped it home in his bag and walked straight through customs in his clean uniform and shiny boots.
As soon as the foreman had announced the guilty verdict, Leonard Hamnet had gotten to his feet, pulled the semiautomatic pistol from inside his jacket, and executed Mr Brewster where he was sitting at the defense table. While people shouted and screamed and dove for cover, while the courthouse officer tried to unsnap his gun, Hamnet killed his wife and his son. By the time he raised the pistol to his own head, the security officer had shot him twice in the chest. He died on the operating table at Lookout Mountain Lutheran Hospital, and his mother had requested that his remains receive burial at Arlington National Cemetery.
His mother. Arlington. I ask you.
That was what the Lieutenant said. His mother. Arlington. I ask you.
A private from Indianapolis named E. W. Burroughs won the six hundred and twenty dollars in the Elijah Fund when Lieutenant Joys was killed by a fragmentation bomb thirty-two days before the end of his tour. After that we were delivered unsuspecting into the hands of Harry Beevers, the Lost Boss, the worst lieutenant in the world. Private Burroughs died a week later, down in Dragon Valley along with Tiano and Calvin Hill and lots of others, when Lieutenant Beevers walked us into a mined field where we spent forty-eight hours under fire between two companies of NVA. I suppose Burroughs’ mother back in Indianapolis got the six hundred and twenty dollars.
STEPHEN JONES & KIM
NEWMAN
Necrology: 1992
AS WE MOVE FURTHER INTO THE 1990s, it is inevitable that we will continue to lose many of those who have significantly shaped the horror, science fiction and fantasy genres in fiction and film. 1992 was another bad year, when death once more claimed the writers, artists, performers and technicians who are remembered here . . .
AUTHORS/ARTISTS
Italian-born artist Joseph Mugnaini, best known for his illustrations for Ray Bradbury books such as Fahrenheit 451, The Martian Chronicles, The October Country and The Halloween Tree, amongst many others, died on January 23 after suffering an aneurism. He was 79. His short film, Icarus, based on a Bradbury story, was nominated for an Academy Award.
Award-winning British author Angela Carter (aka Angela Olive Stalker) died of lung cancer on February 16, aged 51. Her acclaimed novels and collections include The Magic Toyshop (which she later adapted for TV), Heroes and Villains, The Infernal Desire Machines of Dr Hoffman, The Passion of New Eve, The Bloody Chamber and Other Stories, Nights at the Circus, Black Venus and Wise C
hildren. She also co-scripted the 1984 movie The Company of Wolves, based on her published radio play.
Pulp author Dwight V. (Vreeland) Swain died of a self-inflicted gunshot on February 24, aged 76. A regular contributor to Amazing, Imagination and Imaginative Tales, he also published novels under the pseudonyms “Nick Carter” and “John Cleve”.
Probably the most famous and prolific science fiction author ever, Russian-born Isaac Asimov (aka Isaak Ludich Azimov), died on April 6 from heart and kidney failure, aged 72. His first SF story appeared in a 1939 issue of Amazing Stories, and he subsequently published almost 500 books in all genres and was the winner of numerous awards.
Controversial artist Francis Bacon, noted for his bizarre and distorted imagery, died of a heart attack on April 28, aged 82.
Michael Talbot, author of such horror novels as The Delicate Dependency, The Bog and Night Things, died of leukaemia on May 27. He was 38.
William M. Gaines, the founder and publisher of EC comics, died on June 3, aged 70. He was a pioneer of superior horror, science fiction, crime and war comics, publishing such titles as Tales from the Crypt, The Vault of Horror, The Haunt of Fear, Weird Science, Weird Fantasy and Incredible Science Fiction, until they were closed down by the Comics Code Authority in the mid-1950s. In 1952 he launched Mad as a comic book (created by Harvey Kurtzman) and three years later turned it into a satirical magazine which is still published. Numerous stories from the comics have been adapted into movies and form the basis for the HBO TV series Tales from the Crypt.
Martin Goodman, who in 1939 founded the company that would become Marvel Comics, died on June 6, aged 84. He sold the company in 1968 and retired.
Screenwriter and Blacklist survivor Frederic I. (aka Fred) Rinaldo died on June 22, aged 78, from complications following surgery for a broken hip. His credits include The Invisible Woman, The Black Cat (1941), Robot Monster, and the Abbott and Costello comedies, Hold That Ghost, Meet Frankenstein and . . . Meet the Invisible Man.
Russian-born science fiction author Reginald Bretnor, aged 80, died on July 15. He is best remembered for his series of stories featuring the characters Papa Schimmelhorn and Ferdinand Feghoot.
Author and physician Alan E. Nourse died on July 19 from congestive heart failure. He was 64. He wrote a number of medical science fiction books for adults and younger readers.
Historical novelist Rosemary Sutcliff, whose books include the classic Arthurian novel Sword at Sunset, died from a progressive wasting disease on July 23, aged 71.
Fan artist Joe Shuster died on July 30 of congestive heart failure. He was 78. In 1934, he co-created Superman with Jerry Siegal, and four years later they sold all rights in the character to Detective Comics for $130. After working on the comic book for several years, they were fired when they asked for a share of the profits. Decades later, due to public pressure, the destitute pair were granted a yearly pension of $30,000 by DC Comics.
Award-winning movie poster artist Robert Peak died from a brain hemorrhage on August 7, aged 64. He created the distinctive images for West Side Story, My Fair Lady, Camelot, Apocalypse Now, Rollerball, Superman, Excalibur and the first five Star Trek films.
Children’s author Mary Norton died after suffering a stroke on August 29, aged 88. Her novel The Magic Bed-Knob was filmed by Disney in 1971 as Bedknobs and Broomsticks, while her five books about the six-inch tall Borrowers have been adapted for television.
One of the greatest writers of the modern horror story, Fritz Leiber, died on September 5 from a series of small strokes after complications following a convention in Ontario, Canada. He was 81. Fritz Reuter Leiber Jr was the son of the noted Shakespearean/Hollywood actor. The winner of multiple awards (including the Lifetime Achievement from both the World Fantasy Convention and the Horror Writers of America), Leiber’s first published story featured his enduring heroic fantasy duo Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser (co-created with Harry Fischer): ‘Two Sought Adventure’ appeared in Unknown in 1939. Many memorable novels and short stories followed, spanning the genres. His best horror fiction can be found in the collections Night’s Black Agents and Shadows With Eyes, and the novels Conjure Wife (filmed several times) and Our Lady of Darkness. He also novelised the 1965 movie Tarzan and the Valley of Gold.
Belgian cartoonist Pierre Culliford, creator of the Smurfs (originally the Schtroumpfs), died on December 24, aged 64. The characters have been adapted into films and television, with the books translated into more than twenty languages.
ACTORS/ACTRESSES
Australian stage and screen actress Dame Judith Anderson died from a brain tumour and pneumonia on January 3, aged 94. Her film roles include the sinister housekeeper in Hitchcock’s Rebecca and a Vulcan High Priestess in Star Trek III The Search for Spock. She also appeared in Laura and And Then There Were None.
B-movie tough guy Steve Brodie died of cancer on January 9. He was 72, and his many credits include Ray Harryhausen’s The Beast from 20,000 Fathoms, Donovan’s Brain, The Wild World of Batwoman, The Giant Spider Invasion and Frankenstein Island.
Veteran character actor Ian Wolfe died from natural causes on January 23, aged 95. In a career spanning seven decades, he appeared in more than 200 films. His numerous genre credits include The Raven (1935, with Karloff and Lugosi), Mad Love (with Peter Lorre), plus On Borrowed Time, Sherlock Holmes Faces Death, Flesh and Fantasy, Murder in the Blue Room, The Pearl of Death, The Scarlet Claw, The Invisible Man’s Revenge, Zombies on Broadway, Bedlam (with Karloff), Dressed to Kill (1946), The Lost World (1960), Diary of a Madman (with Vincent Price), Games, THX 1138, The Terminal Man and the recent Dick Tracy (1990).
The same day saw the death for former child star Freddie Bartholomew, at the age of 61. Born in Ireland, he played well-bred English boys in such Hollywood productions as David Copperfield (with Basil Rathbone), Little Lord Fauntleroy (1936), Captains Courageous and Kidnapped (the latter two with John Carradine).
Puerto Rican-born Hollywood star/director Jose Ferrer (aka Jose Vincente Ferrer y Centron) died on January 26, after a short illness. He was aged 80. His varied career included the Academy Award-winning title role of Cyrano de Bergerac (1950), plus The Sentinel, Crash, Dracula’s Dog, The Swarm, Blood Tide, Dune and the title role in TV’s The Return of Captain Nemo.
Veteran stage actress Dame Gwen Ffrangcon-Davies died from natural causes on January 27, aged 101. The last link with the Victorian theatre, she made her stage debut as a fairy in A Midsummer Night’s Dream in 1911. Her few film credits include Hammer’s The Devil Rides Out and the recent Sherlock Holmes TV movie The Master Blackmailer.
Dependable character actor John Dehner died on February 4, of emphysema and diabetes, aged 76. He began his career as an animator for Walt Disney (Fantasia, Bambi etc) and later became a regular guest star on TV. His film roles include The Catman of Paris, The Bowery Boys Meet the Monsters, Carousel, The Day of the Dolphin, The Boys from Brazil, Jagged Edge and Creator.
American leading man Ray Danton died on February 11, from kidney disease. He was 60. Besides his acting roles, he also directed Psychic Killer, The Deathmaster and Crypt of the Living Dead.
Best remembered for her appearance in the original Star Trek TV episode “The Gamesters of Triskelion” and as a regular on Get Smart, American actress Angelique Pettyjohn died from cancer on February 14, at the age 48. Her film appearances include The Lost Empire, Repo Man, Biohazard, The Mad Doctor of Blood Island, The Wizard of Speed and Time and several porno roles under the names Angelique and Heaven St John.
Dick York, best known as the original Darren (1964–9, before health problems forced him to leave) in the TV series Bewitched, died on February 20, from emphysema and a degenerative spinal condition. He was 63.
American actress Sandy Dennis died of cancer on March 2. She was 54. She won the Academy Award for Best Supporting Actress for Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?, and her other credits include Parents, 976-Evil and the TV movies The Man Who Wanted to Live Forever and Steven Spielberg’s Something
Evil.
Canadian actor Robert Beatty died of pneumonia on March 3, aged 82. His many films include 2001: A Space Odyssey.
Gracie Lantz (aka Grace Stafford), the creator and voice of cartoon character Woody Woodpecker for forty years, died from spinal cancer on March 17, aged 88.
Italian-born actor Cesare Danova died from a heart attack on March 19, during a meeting of the Foreign Film Committee. He was 66. As a leading man, his film credits include Tarzan the Ape Man (1959), Valley of the Dragons, The Invisible Strangler, Chamber of Horrors and Tentacles.
Canadian-born John Ireland died of leukaemia on March 21, aged 78. As a Hollywood leading man, he appeared in many westerns before ending up in I Saw What You Did, The House of Seven Corpses, Welcome to Arrow Beach, TV’s The Phantom of Hollywood, Satan’s Cheerleaders, The Shape of Things to Come, Guyana: Cult of the Damned, Miami Golem, Incubus, Sundown The Vampire in Retreat and Waxwork II: Lost in Time.
Best remembered as Mildred the housekeeper on TV’s McMillan and Wife series and the classic Jewish mother in Rhoda, American comedienne Nancy Walker (aka Ann Swoyer Barto) died from lung cancer on March 25, aged 69. Her film appearances include Murder By Death, The World’s Greatest Athlete and Human Feelings (as God). She was also the unlikely director of the disco disaster Can’t Stop the Music.
Austrian-born Hollywood leading man Paul Henried (aka Paul von Hernreid) died from pneumonia on March 29, aged 84. His films include Now Voyager, Casablanca, Between Two Worlds, Thief of Damascus, Hammer’s Stolen Face, Siren of Baghdad and Exorcist II The Heretic. In 1964 he directed the psychological thriller Dead Ringer.
Actress Alix Talton, who starred in The Deadly Mantis and also appeared in Hitchcock’s 1956 remake of his own The Man Who Knew Too Much, died of lung cancer on April 7. She was 72.
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