Message from Nam (21 page)

“Mama, don’t.” And for the second time in what seemed like a lifetime, the two women embraced. The ice had been broken, the bond had been formed, but it was too late for Paxton to turn back. She had come home to say good-bye, and by the next day, her mother knew it.

They spent the next two weeks talking quietly, about her father, and how her mother felt when he died, and finally she even talked about the other woman. She had been a woman he worked with, and Beatrice had known about the affair. She had known how lonely he was, but she just couldn’t give him what he wanted. And she even admitted she’d been relieved when someone else could. It only hurt when he died, and everyone found out that there had been another woman in his life. It seemed an odd way to think of things to Paxton, but even now, with their newfound exchange, she recognized that she and her mother were very different. The one so cool, so distant, so aloof, so afraid of letting go, of being out of control, of too much feeling, the other so warm, so open, so passionate, so deeply involved and committed, even in her grief after Peter’s death. And in so many ways, Paxton was so much like her father.

Her brother George tried to talk her out of going to Viet Nam, too, but like his mother, within days he realized that there was no point, Paxton was determined. He administered her shots, and in the end, when Ed Wilson called and told her to come back to be briefed, George and Allison and her mother took her to the airport, and this time even Paxton cried when she left them. She felt as though she were leaving home for good. Even if she came back, it would never be the same, and she knew it. She had left as a child, and she would return different, battle-scarred, wiser, or perhaps more bitter. But she would never be a child again. The child that been Paxton Andrews was gone, with the others.

C
HAPTER
11

T
he good-byes in San Francisco were no easier than the ones in Savannah. In fact, despite her mother’s reaching out to her over Peter’s death, the good-byes said in San Francisco were much harder. Gabby cried nonstop, and Peter’s mother was still heartbroken that her husband had agreed to the job in Saigon. And she told him point-blank that he was as crazy as Paxxie.

And the night she left, they all took her to the airport. She had been given a seat on a military transport out of Travis Air Force Base, and she had her vaccination certificates, and her passport, and her visas, and her papers from the
Morning Sun
, and all her instructions about who she was to report to and where, and where she was to stay. They had booked her into the Hotel Caravelle on the Tu Do, and the
Sun
had even given her a Vietnamese phrase book. But this was still the hard part. Saying good-bye to them was awful. Being at Travis reminded them all of when they had said goodbye to Peter. And even Peter’s father cried when he held Paxton in his arms, and kissed her firmly on the cheek and reminded her for the ten thousandth time to be careful.

“And for God’s sake, if you get there and change your mind, don’t be a fool, you turn right around and come home. I think you’re making one hell of a mistake going over there, don’t be too proud to admit it and come back quickly.”

“I won’t,” she promised him with tears in her own eyes, “I love you.” She had learned to say it all while she could. You never knew what was going to happen. “You all take care.” She kissed them all again, as her flight was being called. “I’ve got to go. Promise you’ll write.”

“Take care of yourself,” Marjorie exhorted her, trying not to think of her son. “Be careful what you eat!” They all laughed, and Gabby and Paxton embraced. It had all started with them. The two girls who loved each other like sisters, and had for four years now.

“I love you, you crazy girl. Be careful, Paxxie, please … if anything happens to you, I’ll die.…” Paxton only shook her head, and ruffled the bright red curly hair.

“Just don’t get knocked up again before I come home.” The baby was only three weeks old and Gabby laughed through her tears.

“Take care of yourself, Pax. We’re going to miss you.” Matthew hugged her gently, and then she stood back and looked at all of them.

“I’ll be home in time to trim the tree.” That was the deal she had made with Ed Wilson. Six months in Saigon. And home by Christmas.

They all waved as she slung a large tote bag over her shoulder and picked up her one small suitcase. She was wearing stout boots that looked like combat boots, and jeans and a T-shirt, and she had a new Nikon slung over her shoulder. She turned at the gate and gave a last wave, trying hard to fight back tears as she thought of Peter, and then she turned and ran toward the plane, and as she ran up the steps to the C-141, she collided with what looked like someone’s kid brother. He had wheat-colored hair like her own, and a round baby face and he looked about fifteen as he ran up the steps behind her, carrying his duffel. And then she knew what he was. Just another green kid, going to fight the war in Viet Nam, and as she took her seat on the plane, he hurried to the back to join a hundred others like him … eighteen … nineteen … twenty … she felt like an old lady next to them … and as they took off, and headed across the Pacific, she looked down and prayed that the boys flying to Saigon with her would still be alive by Christmas.

They had given her six months. Six months to find herself, to see the war, to come to terms with what had happened in Da Nang, and to see it all for herself … six months to tear her heart out and give it to them, to atone for her sins, and tell the world what was really happening over there. Six months in Nam. Maybe she was crazy, she knew, but she felt she owed it to Peter. And as she closed her eyes, and laid her head back against the seat, the lights of California dwindled swiftly behind them.

Viet Nam:
June 1968–April 1975

C
HAPTER
12

P
axton was wide-awake from Travis Air Force Base to Hawaii, even though when they arrived it was almost midnight for her, and she was still awake most of the way to Guam, and found herself talking to some of the men, as they all took turns waiting for the bathrooms. Most of the boys looked like the one she’d collided with boarding the plane. They looked barely eighteen years old, and they were young and scared, and when they relaxed a little, they were full of mischief. Several of them asked her for dates, some showed her photographs of girlfriends and mothers and wives, and for the most part they were the rawest of new recruits. The epitome of the word they were about to hear thrown at them night and day once they arrived:
Greenseeds.

A few of the older ones traveling with them had been to Nam before, and through their own choice, they were returning for another tour of duty. These were the ones Paxton was interested in, and two of them shared the whiskey in their flasks with her as they passed the night on their way to Guam, roughly halfway by then between San Francisco and Saigon.

She wanted to know what it was like over there, why they wanted to go back, why they hated it or loved it, the essence of it and what it meant to them, but as she listened to them, she wasn’t sure she understood them. They talked about what a bitch of a place it was, about what bastards the VC were, about how Charlie had killed their friends, and in the same breath they spoke of the country’s beauty, the mountains, the streams, the green of the hills, the stink, the smells, the perfume, the women, the whores, the friends they loved, the buddies they’d lost, the danger. It was hard to make head or tail of it unless you’d been there. And they seemed to have an odd respect for the enemy and their fierce loyalty to their cause, how hard they fought, how tireless they were, how they never gave up until they died. It was an odd kind of respect for their opponents. They talked about Charlie a lot, and about what jerks their COs were, how they never knew what in hell was going on. And more importantly, how there was no way America could win the war in Viet Nam.

“Then why are you going back?” she asked quietly, and both men looked at each other and then away. And she waited for what seemed like a long, long time. And when they answered her, she almost understood it.

“It doesn’t feel right being stateside anymore,” one explained. “No one gives a damn. All the kids hate you for being there, and you feel like a traitor when you come home. But back in Nam, your buddies are dying in the dirt, stepping on mines …” The man talking to her gritted his teeth as he spoke and was totally unaware of it. “I watched my best friend’s face get blown away … my other two best friends are MIA … I can’t … I can’t go home and sit on my ass over there … I gotta be back here helping them, at least till someone gets smart and gets us the hell out of here.”

“Yeah.” The other man nodded, knowing full well what he meant. “There’s no room for us back there. We’re the shitheads now. Not Charlie. Not the President. Us, we’re the bad guys … us, the guys who’re getting killed for them. The truth is, lady, no one gives a damn. We got our asses stuck over there, and the guys in charge won’t let us really do some real damage to them, because they’re afraid the Russkies or the Chinks’ll get pissed off. So they let us get our balls shot off in Viet Nam. You wanna know why I came back? I came back to help my buddies out, until we can all go home together.”

He had no wife, no kids, and all he cared about were his friends in the army.

But they were intrigued by her too. And eventually, they turned the questions on her. “What about you? What are you doing over here?”

“I came to see what was really going on.”

“Why? What difference does it make to you?” She thought about it for a long time, and she wasn’t planning to tell everyone, but it was late, and she knew she’d never see these boys again. She reached into her shirt, much to their surprise, and pulled out Peter’s dog tags, which she brought with her. She pulled them out and extended them toward them, and both men nodded, they knew what it meant. “He died in Da Nang. I just want to see what’s going on.”

They nodded again. “It’s a crazy place.” And then the older of the two men smiled. “How old are you?”

She hesitated and then smiled at him. “Twenty-two. Why?”

“I’m two years older than you, and this is my third tour, and lady, I seen stuff over there that I wouldn’t want no little sister of mine looking at. You sure you know what you’re doing going to Saigon? It’s a bokoo long way from home.”

“I figured that.” In fact, she was counting on it, but she still couldn’t imagine it. And eventually, she said good night to them, went back to her seat, and fell asleep the rest of the way to Guam.

They landed in Guam at what was nine a.m. for them, two a.m. local time, of the next day. They stayed for an hour, to refuel and then flew on to Saigon. They were scheduled to arrive at five a.m. local time. And it was odd, as they flew on, she kept thinking that Peter had come this way only a little more than two months before.

They flew into Tan Son Nhut Airport on the main military base, on schedule, shortly after five a.m., and Paxton was disappointed she couldn’t see the countryside. Everyone talked about Viet Nam being so green. Instead all she could see were fireworks as she came down, and wondered what they meant. But the soldier sitting next to her laughed at her when she asked if it was a national holiday.