Gustav Hasford: The Short-Timers

Lance Corporal Stutten, honcho of the first fire team, gives me the finger. Then he turns to the guy who laughed--a skinny redneck named Harris--and says, "Shut the fuck up, Harris."

Animal Mother says, "Yeah, Harris, obey General Joker."

I say, "I'm ready to jump on your program, you fucking ape..."

"So eat this monkey turd and choke on it, poge." Animal Mother spits. "You just can't hack--"

And then I'm on my feet, my K-bar in my hand. There's hot saliva on my lips and as I hold the big jungle knife inches from Animal Mother's face I'm snarling like an animal. "Okay, you son-of-a-bitch, I'm gonna cut your fucking eyes out..."

Animal Mother looks at me, then at the blade of my K-bar, then at Cowboy. His hand moves to his M-60.

Cowboy continues to eat. "Stow that pig-sticker, Joker. You know how I feel about that Mickey Mouse shit. Now get your head and your ass wired together or--"

"No way, Cowboy. Never happen. He's been on my--"

Cowboy jabs at his glasses. "Didn't ask to run a rifle squad in this piss tube war...but I will break your back, if that's the way you play..."

Donlon whistles. "Cowboy's--"

Cowboy says, "Shut up, Donlon."

I relax a little bit and then I slip my K-bar back into its leather sheath. "Yeah, yeah, I guess all this humping has given me diarrhea of the mouth."

Cowboy shurgs. "No sweat, Joker." Cowboy stands up. "Okay, ladies, stow the pogey bait. Let's saddle up. Moving."

"Moving" is repeated down the trail.

I struggle into my gear. "Hey, Animal Mother, I wasn't really going to waste you. It's just that I'm well, you know, a trained killer. Cut me a huss with my pack..."

Animal Mother shrugs and helps me into my NVA rucksack. Then I help him put on his field pack. I say, "Now you buy me Saigon tea?" Mother sneers. I blow him a kiss. "No sweat, maleen , I love you too much." Mother spits.

Cowboy waves his hand and Alice takes the point.

I say, "Break a leg, Jungle Bunny."

Alice gives me the finger. Then he raises his right fist and throws power. On the blue canvas shopping bag slung on Alice's back is the warning: If you can read this your too dam close.

Cowboy waves his hand and the squad moves out.

My gear feels like a bag of rocks, heavier than before.

Animal Mother tells Parker, the New Guy. "Don't follow me too close, New Guy. If you step on a mine I don't want to get fucked up."

Parker steps back.

As is my custom, I salute Animal Mother so that any snipers in the area will assume that he is an officer and shoot him instead of me. I have become a little paranoid since I painted a red bull's-eye on the top of my helmet.

Animal Mother returns my salute, then spits, then grins. "You sure are funny, you son-of-a-bitch. You're a real comedian."

"Sorry 'bout that," I say.

Searching for something we don't want to find, we hump. And hump. And when we're so bone-sore tired that our minds sever contact with our bodies, we hump even faster, green phantoms in the twilight.

From somewhere, from everywhere, an almost inaudible snap.

A bird goes insane. One bird sputters overhead. And a great weight of birds shift across the canopy.

Alice stands rigid and listens. He raises his right hand and closes it into a fist. Danger.

I slump forward. My body is aching with all the thousand natural shocks that flesh is hear to after every fiber of every muscle is begging you to stop but you choose to overrule such objections by a force of will stronger than muscle, bullying your body into taking one more step, one more step, just one more step...

Cowboy thinks about it. Then he says, "Hit it."

Wavering forms crumple to the deck as Cowboy's order is echoed from man to man back down the trail.

I say to Cowboy, "Bro, I was hoping a sniper would ding me so I'd have an excuse to fall down. I mean, I think I'm going to hate this movie..."

Cowboy is watching Alice. "Cut the shit, Joker."

Kneeling, Alice studies the few yards of trail he can see before it's swallowed by leathery, dark green jungle plants. Alice studies the treetops, too, for a long time. "It's not right, bro."

I say, "That's affirm, Cowboy. All my crabs are screaming, 'Abandon ship! Abandon ship!'"

Cowboy ignores me, keeps his eyes on Alice. "We got to move, Midnight."

The jungle is silent except for the squeak-squeak of a canteen being unscrewed.

"Hurry up and wait. Hurry up and wait." Alice wipes the sweat from his eyes. "All I want to do is make it back to the hill so I can smoke about one ton of dope. I mean, are you sure this is safe? I...wait...I heard something."

Silence.

"A bird," says Cowboy. "Or a branch falling. Or--"

Alice shakes his head. "Maybe. Maybe. Or maybe a rifle bolt going home."

Cowboy's voice is stern: "You're paranoid, Midnight. No gooks here. Not for maybe another four or five klicks. We got to keep moving or we'll give the gooks time to set up an ambush in front of us. You know that..."

Donlon crawls over to Cowboy, handset at his ear. "Hey, Lone Ranger, the old man wants a report on our position."

"Let's move , Midnight. I mean it."

Alice rolls his eyes. "Feets, get movin'." Alice takes one step forward, then hesitates. "I can remember when I've had more fun."

I say in my John Wayne voice: "Viet Nam is giving war a bad name."

Daddy D.A., who's walking tail-end Charlie, calls out: "HEY, MR. VIET NAM WAR, WE HOMESTEADING?"

Cowboy says, "Everybody shut the fuck up."

Alice shrugs, mumbles, takes another step forward. "Cowboy, m'man, maybe old soldiers never die, but young ones do. It ain't easy being the black Errol Flynn, you know. I mean, if I don't get the Congressional Medal of Honor for all the crazy shit I do, I am going to send Mr. L.B.J. an eight-by-ten photo of my black bee-hind with a caption on the back, telling him what it is..."

Alice, the point man, moves out. He ditty-bops into a little clearing. "I mean--"

Bang.

The crack of an SKS sniper's carbine jolts Alice into a rigid position of attention. His mouth opens. He turns to speak to us. His eyes cry out.

Alice falls.

"HIT IT!"

Falling forward-- now ...

"Oh, no..." Black earth.

Dead leaves. "ALICE!"

"What...?" Damp. Bleeding elbows.

"MIDNIGHT!"

Looking, not seeing, looking...

"Oh-oh...Shit City..."

Waiting. Waiting. "Hey, man..."

Silence.

My guts melt.

"ALICE!"

Alice doesn't move and I curl up and try to make myself small and my asshole feels like it has been turned inside out and I think how wonderful it would be if Chaplain Charlie had taught me magic and then I could crawl up into my own asshole and just disappear and I think: I'm glad it's him and not me.

"ALICE!"

Alice, the point man, is down. His big black hands are locked around his right thigh. On the deck all around him are a dozen decayed gook feet.

Blood.

"FACE OUTBOARD!"

Cowboy says, "Damn." He shoves his Stetson to the back of his head and jabs at his glasses with his index finger. "CORPSMAN UP!"

Cowboy's command is echoed back down the trail.

Doc Jay comes scrambling up on all fours like a bear in a hurry.

Cowboy waves his hand, "Come on, Doc."

Donlon grabs Cowboy's ankle, tries to hand Cowboy the radio handset. "Colonel Travis is on the horn."

"Fuck off, Tom. I'm busy."

Cowboy and Doc Jay start crawling.

Donlon says into the handset: "Uh, Sudden Death Six, Sudden Death Six, this is Baby Bayonet. Do you copy? Over."

Cowboy stops crawling, calls back: "Gunships. And a med-evac."

Donlon talks into the handset, talks to the old man. Static. The handset hangs on a wire hook attached to Donlon's helmet strap. Donlon's singsong words are like a prayer he has known for a long time. Donlon stops talking, listens to an insect inside the handset, then shouts: "The old man says, 'Only you can prevent forest fires.'"