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Aidan Quaid looked up from his map to watch the figures of Fleming's section spread along the edge of the high bank dropping away to the river. The sunlight flowed down the canyon, striking the leaves from the far side and turning them pale green, against which frieze the men were darker figures.
He mopped his brow, took the radio handset, and gave the platoon's location in code, "4-2, locstat; Ford: up, 2.4, left, 3.7, over."
"4-2. Roger, out."
Snapping fingers jerked his hand around. Tony was moving carefully to Sweet's side. Sweet was staring fixedly at something on the far bank of the river. Then the remainder of the section was peering under or over bushes.
Fleming turned to look for Quaid, a grin on his face and beckoned him forward. Walking a few paces to meet Quaid, Tony grinned and whispered, "There's a woggie bird getting her gear off on the gar bank, Skipper."
Quaid frowned, then he realized it wasn't a joke. "Hmmm. Best have a look."
Gesturing to the remainder to halt and stay where they were, he quickly but quietly moved forward and under a branch peered toward the far bank.
Kieu Thi Dong had left the other six members of the staff of the transit camp and gone down to the river for her afternoon bath. She knew no one of the six men would trouble her, such loose behavior was not tolerated and severely punished.
She sat for a moment, relaxing in the quiet, the chuckling of the water bubbling over the shadows, the blue sky and the sun on the glorious greens on the far bank. Then she rose and quickly stripped off her black pajama suit, tiny bra and cotton panties, took the little piece of soap and stepped into the river.
Balancing, carefully stepping from rock to rock she waded out to mid-thigh depth and sat in a flowing clear water. Rising, she thoroughly lathered---arms, shoulders, breasts, stomach, groin, and legs.
Up on the far bank, there was intense whispered competition for the binoculars.
"C'mon Tony, ya bastard, give us a look!"
"Piss off!"
"A man knows who his bloody mates are, don't he?"
The whole platoon lined the bank, watching Kieu Thi from the shadows.
"Good tits for a wog, guv'nuh."
"Yeah, not a bad lookin' face, neither."
"I haven't gotten to her face yet."
"Aw Jesus, lady, don't wash yer box like that...."
"How'd ya like to be a piece of soap, Liam?"
"Fuckin' what? My fur coat!"
"Keep it quiet, you blokes!"
"Finished love? Gonna have a big sunbake now and drive all these randy pricks mad?"
"What? Her? She's a good kid. Probably gonna dry off, dress, and get her ass home."
"Think she's got sisters?"
"Brothers, more likely. Look at the track. Used every day."
Kieu Thi dressed and climbed the slope, making her way back to the camp.
Kieu Thi laughed, hanging her wet towel to dry. "Yes, elder brother, but they only nibble appendages."
Dam smiled and turned to the others. "Come comrades. Thi, bring the bucket."
The six strolled along, chattering and swinging towels. They climbed down the bank and began undressing, remaining in their underwear shorts.
Quaid grinned and looked along the line of prone figures on his left and right. "Okay, here they come. Wait for my order."
Thi filled the bucket and turned to Dam. "I'll take it back first, comrade, then return."
"Good, good."
Quaid sighted on Dam, drew a breath, said "fire" and pulled the trigger.
Dam was lifted off his feet by the three 7.62mm rounds that slammed into his thin body. The water leaped and foamed in white crystal frenzy as the rounds cracked in; the four already knee deep disappeared in the leaping madness.
Thi, terrified by the wall of noise erupting from the peaceful far bank, driven back by the snap of passing rounds, the white foaming where the other four were swallowed, and the sudden horror of Dam picked up by an invisible string and jerked away, began running up the bank, bucket in hand, water slopping over the edge.
"Hey, look at the blighter with the bucket! Betcha a quid I can hit it!"
"Yer on!"
And almost instantaneously, every man of Quaid's platoon was aiming at the bucket, round after round cracked past, over, under, and through it. Thi was carrying little but a handle and ragged top when some spoilsport blew his shoulder blades through his chest, and the riddled remnant of the bucket caught on a bush and swung gently to and fro.
Kieu Thi crouched behind a tree, frozen by the paralyzing blast of fire. She remained kneeling, staring eyes fastened on the lighted area of bush at the top of the bank; no one appeared. She huddled there until darkness settled and crept forward to move cautiously over and down the bank: there was----it must be Van, and Dam, oh, so terribly mutilated. Where are Duong, Loc, Vien and Thao? Oh, who has done this? There was no sign of any puppet of foreign troops.
She knelt in the night at the base of the path down the bank, dark waters gurgling past, but now their cheerful chuckle of the sunny afternoon was mocking, "we know, hah, ha, we know, ha, ha," and suddenly she was a 20-year-old girl alone in the jungle with two dead men, four others gone, and an unknown thing that killed from a peaceful river!
She was clawing and clambering up the bank, past Van's stiff corpse, along the path, through the pitch black by instinct to Dam's bunker. Seizing his M1, she huddled back in the underground section, the uncocked carbine pointing at the faintly lighter patch of the entrance, until the daylight seeped in and she nervously crept out, drank, and timidly, hesitantly, went to report the deaths at the next camp, 9 miles away. Never again would Kieu Thi be able to fully relax, no matter how isolated or peaceful the scene.
Aidan Quaid had left 10 minutes after his final shot had been fired. For the remainder of the afternoon, exchanged glances brought grins and laughter muffled by hands across mouths, as the platoon relived the bathing beauty scene and the "bucket shoot."
Later in the evening, after rejoining the remainder of the company. and after the nightly routine of orders groups, stand-to, and stand-down, Quaid lay back on his sleeping gear, head on pack, M16 a long darker shadow beside him, and stared up through the hard black pattern of the trees into the softer night sky. What was Veronica doing now? He concentrated his thoughts and tried to bridge the miles and hours between the patch of dark Indochinese jungle and bright-lit London. But the jungle all around him stayed the same: dark, quiet, tropical humidity, still.
While part of him was not greatly pleased that she seemed to be leading an active social life with people he didn't know well, or know at all, his general feeling was one of approval that she was getting out and not becoming a recluse, glued to the radio, TV and newspapers. They had discussed the matter before he left, and in letters, and Aidan had repeated that he did not want or expect Veronica to sit and brood, waiting for bad news.
Her letters were bright and loving, so there was nothing there, but sometimes, in quiet moments like this, wishing so much to be with her, and longing for her presence, separated by thousands of dark miles, a little glow flared in a corner of his mind---what if? but he doused it with a defensive move, the philosophical. "If she is, you're too far away to do anything about it; there's no sign of it, so quit worrying and go to bloody sleep."
He heard the whispering as the machine gun piquet changed and drifted into sleep.355Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡD6ij82Yqtn
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Veronica sipped her Bacardi, watching from the periphery of her vision the approach of the visiting Frenchman, Pierre, who seemed determined to seduce everybody among the wives and girlfriends of the office staff, as well as compile his report for the Paris office.
The girls dubbed him "de Gaulle's secret weapon," and every advance was watched by 30 pairs of eyes. Lucile, his languid wife, watched as well, and had even approached one of the secretaries herself, stating that Pierre wanted to go to bed with her, and she, Lucile, would not mind if Abigail did so.
Abigail swallowed her drink without choking and managed a "This is very kind of you, Lucile."
"Oh, eet is nothing serious. Ze experience, you understand?"
Now, he was here, smiling, that Parisian "style" in his manner, while across the room Lucile, head tilted while expelling smoke upwards, was observing with clinical interest as Pierre spoke softly, "Ahh, Veh-rhon-ee-ka," and she smiled at him, not hearing his conversational gambit, thinking, "Sorry, Pierre, Scotty Harrison is one thing, but itinerant headhunters quite another."
Lucile met Abigail's eyes across the room, and she raised her eyebrows and moved her head slightly to say without words, "There, you have missed out, cherie."
Abigail raised her own eyebrows and gave a very Gallic shrug, before turning casually back to listen to the company secretary inviting them to a barbeque to celebrate his new swimming pool at his home at Woolwood Green.355Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡhkHTYucJGF
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The noon hush weighed the sunlit, shadow-dappled scene---quiet except for buzzing insects and the drone of a few low-pitched voices. The company was digesting its lunch.
Flash Gordon consulting his map, "Baron" working out the rosters for the coming night's radio and MG picket at CHQ, the Tommies with ever-present paperbacks, letters, or dozing.
In one rifle section, a low-voiced argument on changes of nationality, "I was born in Canada and I'll always be a Canadian---and proud of it!"
"I was born there, too, y'know, but I came to England to be an Englishman. My kids are English, they go to English schools; I pay taxes in England, vote in elections, own a home there---I've been naturalized, and now I'm an Englishman, so is Nellie and the kids."
"That's just paper! It's what's inside that counts. Canada! Always and forever! If you're born in Sweden, you're a Swede, if you're born in Italy, you're an Italian. I was born in Canada, and I'll always be Canadian!"
"Oh, so if you're born in a stable, you're a horse!"
Silence. 355Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡpofAf6o51h
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Linda Gordon hummed in time to Beethoven's Pastoral as she put the finishing touches to the tray of hors d'oeuvres. Freddy and Lois would be here any moment, and good timing, she was ready. Ah, the bell! Humming, she danced over the floor, flicking off the chain, opened it with a smile.355Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡtsJFWHzBpD
"Right on time Lo....."355Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡOK8Wlwa2cq
"He's still killing women and children, and picking up diseases from the filthy har....."355Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡc83ULU1Dut
The lightning flickered through her body, and one thought flashed before her mind----you bastard!---and she launched herself from the stair top, knocking the small dark figure to the ground; as if she had rehearsed, she found herself stepping back up onto the step and jumping onto his body, all her 102 pounds behind the fashionable high pointed heels of her shoes. His breath gurgled out, rising to a scream. She stepped back and sank her pointed toe into his stomach and back as he squirmed, hearing her own low voice, "You bastard, you bastard, you bastard"; as he rolled to his hands and knees, she grabbed his hair, turned his face up, and dragged her hooked nails diagonally across the still indistinct face.355Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡVDQQnLWMpf
He howled and struck out, landing one flailing fist in her side, pushing her away. Windows slid open, and a voice called, "I say, what's going on there?"355Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡeQZgHHyftx
Breathless, she could not answer, but advanced upon the dark figure, who was clutching his face with one hand, the other holding the spot where the heel-tips impacted. Head down, he suddenly butted her off her feet. The voice from above was joined by others. "I say! Is that you, Linda? Fred, there's a man attacking a lady down here!"355Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡfmSfkerBqG
As she sprawled backward, the creature scuttled off with a moan into the darkness.
"Linda! Are you all right? Freddy and Lois came running down the passage from the car park; a few other people from the building appeared from the doorways.
"Yes thanks. He got the worst of it. I thought it was you and opened the door instead of checking. Then I lost my temper and gave him something to remember me by."
When the neighbors had dispersed, the police and security men gone, she began her postponed dinner, laughing, sparkling, on top of her form.
"You know, it's splendid! I feel tremendous! I was worried and scared. Now, I've beaten the little swine, and if he ever comes back, he'll get the same treatment. I feel as if a great dark weight has been lifted from my shoulders."
Two days later, the security officer telephoned.
"Oh, Mrs. Gordon. Lieutenant Taylor here, how are you? Oh good. Well, your caller was, as we now believe, a civilian who had been employed as a steward in the mess. Yesterday he appeared at the unit where he is at present employed on a casual basis, collected his money and left. He appeared to be in some pain and had bandages over a great deal of his face. Unfortunately, we were only informed of this today. He's left his flat, and at the moment the police are searching for him. However, going on past performances of that type of person, I don't think he'll be back. Thank you. Glad we could help. Good day, mum."
And the creature crawled off to lick his wounds and wait for simpler prey.
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