“Uh, yeah, sure,” I said, although my palms were sweating and I was having trouble holding on to my guitar pick.
Julie nodded and right away started playing this short keyboard intro. I took a deep breath, wiped my hands on my jeans, and then Greg and I came in on our guitars, actually sounding okay, which totally surprised me. Or at least not too bad, compared to the first All-Ages Open Mic Night when we couldn’t even tune our instruments right.
So far, so good.
But then when it was time for me to step up to the mic, I froze. I couldn’t remember what I was supposed to be singing, and then I forgot what chords I was supposed to be playing.
Julie and Greg looked over at me frantically. This couldn’t be happening, only it was. I had stage fright so bad that I couldn’t even move. I stopped playing. I opened my mouth to try singing again, but nothing came out except, “Excuse me. I’ll be right back.”
And then I ran off the stage, out the side door of the concert warehouse, and threw up in the grass.
At first I didn’t hear anything, but then I heard everybody back inside erupting with laughter. I knew I could never go back — not to finish the performance, not ever. I was going to have to transfer schools, find new friends, go into the Witness Protection Program. It was the most embarrassing thing that had ever happened to anybody.
And then a funny thing happened. The laughter kind of died down and I heard the faint strains of a ukulele.
And then I heard Greg’s wobbly voice on the microphone, singing.
I opened the door and peeked inside, and sure enough, there was Greg with Uncle Dex’s ukulele. I hadn’t even noticed that he’d brought it with him to the concert.
He was just standing there at the microphone by himself, strumming and singing away, even though his voice kept cracking.
It was one of those old Vietnam War songs that Uncle Dex had sung for us on our trip to The Wall: “The Ballad of the Green Berets.”
I stepped inside so I could see and hear better, though I didn’t go back onstage right away. At first some kids were still laughing, and then snickering — especially Belman. But the more Greg sang, the less they laughed, and once he got to the chorus, everybody just stood there quietly, listening. I thought Julie would be mad — about me getting stage fright and running away, about Greg singing a song by himself that we hadn’t practiced — but she actually had this kind of sweet look on her face as she sat at her keyboard, watching and listening to Greg.
I inched farther in until I was at the edge of the stage, and then I managed to climb back up, though I stayed behind the amps and stuff.
Greg kept strumming and singing. He had figured out a sort of Hawaiian arrangement, so it sounded pretty different from how Uncle Dex had played it, though still all the same words.
And then I saw, way in the back of the crowd of kids, Greg’s dad. He must have heard Greg, too, and come in from the parents’ waiting area to check it out. Even from where I was up onstage I could tell he had tears in his eyes.
Julie looked back at me and smiled, and I shrugged and mouthed the word “Sorry” and smiled back. I pointed to Greg’s dad and she nodded. She’d seen him, too.
Greg was on the last verse now and I could see a lot of kids’ heads nodding in what I took to be appreciation.
And when I looked again at Greg’s dad I got yet another shock, because there, standing next to him, was Z. Julie must have seen him, too, because she glanced over at me again and our eyes met and then we both just turned back and stared.
Z and Fish. Just for this one moment, together again, although it must have been the very last of the energy Z had for this sort of thing because he was already starting to fade.
Greg finished and all the kids applauded — even Belman and his friends. Greg’s dad and Z lifted their hands and both gave the peace sign, just like in that picture Greg had told us about that his dad left at The Wall.
And then Z was gone, only this time it was forever.
We somehow managed to get through our set after that, and I somehow got over my stage fright enough to sing two of our songs. We came in fourth in the competition, which we all decided was pretty good, although there were only five bands. Still a definite improvement over the last time, when we finished dead last.
“No telling what we can do if we get serious about practicing,” Julie said as we piled into Greg’s dad’s truck afterward with all our equipment.
“And if Anderson can keep from throwing up,” Greg added, elbowing me in the ribs.
“And if we can take a break from ghosts for a while,” I said, just loud enough for them to hear.
They both nodded, but I still had the feeling that we weren’t through with the real ghosts of war just yet.
The Battle of Khe Sanh, which took place between January 21 and July 6, 1968, is one of the most important and controversial battles of the Vietnam War, and military historians continue to debate the decision to defend the marine base there. The seventy-seven-day siege may have ended in a military victory for the U.S. and South Vietnam, but most agree that it was a public relations disaster, and a major contributing factor in the rapidly declining support in America for the war.
While the characters and story, both those from present day and history, in Lost at Khe Sanh are fictional, the stories of the siege, the attack at Lang Vei, and the treatment of the Montagnard people are all based on fact. There are a number of excellent accounts of the siege at Khe Sanh and the attack on the Green Beret camp at Lang Vei. Two worth checking out are Valley of Decision: The Siege of Khe Sanh by John Prados and Ray W. Stubbe, and Khe Sanh: Siege in the Clouds: An Oral History by Eric Hammel.
Stanley Karnow’s Vietnam: A History is generally recognized as the best history of the war, while Philip Caputo’s A Rumor of War is one of the best memoirs from the conflict. The Things They Carried by Tim O’Brien is a powerful book about the war and well worth reading for a fuller understanding of what it was like for those who served.
To find out more about the Vietnam Veterans Memorial in Washington, DC — The Wall — check out the National Park Service site, www.nps.gov/vive/index.htm, and the site for the Vietnam Veterans Memorial Fund, www.vvmf.org. To learn more about the Montagnard people, a great place to start is with Rebecca Onion’s article at www.slate.com, “The Snake-Eaters and the Yards.”
Steve Watkins is the acclaimed author of Down Sand Mountain, winner of the Golden Kite Award; What Comes After; and Juvie; as well as the Ghosts of War books. Steve also writes as a freelance journalist and teaches yoga. His website is www.stevewatkinsbooks.com.
Copyright © 2015 by Steve Watkins
All rights reserved. Published by Scholastic Inc. SCHOLASTIC and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc.
First printing, April 2015
Cover art by Alejandro Colucci
Cover design by Yaffa Jaskoll
e-ISBN 978-0-545-66588-9
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher. For information regarding permission, write to Scholastic Inc., Attention: Permissions Department, 557 Broadway, New York, NY 10012.
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