William Vollmann - Whores for Gloria

Yeah right .

Gloria? What can I do to make you happy, Gloria? You're not crying anymore, are you? Gloria?

Well, I was feeling good for a minute there.

He crossed Market Street and passed the Vietnamese restaurant in front of which old Richard saluted him with a crutch saying hey Jimmy nice day ain't it? and Jimmy said can't complain and ducked between two piss-stained buildings where he knew his friend would be. Behind the dumpster, Code Six sat with crossed legs scratching and muttering inside the shelter of his overcoat, which was where he lived. He was big and fat and had yellow teeth and his body odor was so strong that at night you could practically find him in an alley by smell. He wore a jacket that might have been brown or green; if you brushed up against it brown stuff or green stuff smeared off on you.

Code Six had been a straight sucker until he got to Nam. He and Jimmy had served together in 1968, right before the Tet thing happened and the boys started coming home in flag-wrapped boxes. Once Code Six and Jimmy got their discharges they used to watch television together at Code Six's house on Florida Street because every time they turned on the television they saw the generals sauntering up out of the helicopter together with their hands in their pockets, while their aides walked respectfully behind and Code Six said Jesus remember when we saw him? , and the generals did not do anything as crude as smiling at the cameras or slapping each other's shoulders because they were already as comfortable with everything as old men in summer sitting on the front porch and Code Six said man that's some fuckin' generals there, James! and Jimmy said yeah I'm gonna open you up another beer; so, hands swinging, the generals strode up to their MEN, turning their heads briskly from side to side whenever they spoke so that they could look into every soldier's eyes — and Code Six watched the screen with eyes shining and said let's stay busy fightin' to preserve this goddamn land , and keep this fuckin' flag up high! and Jimmy said oh fuck the flag; — thank you! said Code Six sarcastically; you say fuck the flag; I say stop fuckin' with me! and Jimmy said pass me another beer.

Code Six and Jimmy were not and never had been cadets immaculate in long white sweeps of uniform; they were the troops silhouetted black against the blue sea, the troops leaping down from the landing craft into the hot sea, running toward the beach, the soldiers running through a burned-out place where pale faces prayed over the dead bodies that kept coming back inside plastic bags inside caskets inside flags in a truck with everyone saluting; will you look at those new Hueys! shouted Code Six and of course there were helicopters spinning, making the grass whirl, and soldiers leaped out so quickly and the side-doors slid shut again and the helicopters rose and the grass rose again;—oh, there are some soldiers, thought Code Six as he watched, soldiers like Jimmy and I were, fighting the fucking GOOKS and SLANTS and SLOPES, soldiers trotting single file across a smoking field; and from the air the television showed fire blossoming tighdy in NVA towns and in great puffy random mushrooms in the jungle as the soldiers slammed huge rounds into the big bucking gun and smoke rose like mist, but it was all silent; it was a rule of Code Six's in those days to keep the volume turned to zero because certain sounds from Nam gave him nightmares and certain things the generals said made him mad (but nowadays people are always getting outraged by something, as letters to the editor show) and Jimmy didn't care whether the world was loud or silent, so they sat on the couch in Code Six's place in perfect contentment and Code Six's wife said I don't know why you two always watch that stuff I mean you've done your bit haven't you and Code Six said don't you tell me what to fucking watch you bitch what the fuck do you care so Code Six's wife slammed the bedroom door and started crying so Jimmy said can we turn the volume up now pal and Code Six said no fucking way so Jimmy said pass me another beer and leaned back on the couch trying not to listen to Code Six's wife-sobbing behind the bedroom door and therefore watching with ever increasing attention the soldiers leaning back in the tall grass, firing their assault rifles soundlessly, then running back to the safety of the helicopter when it came, each soldier helping his comrade in. In a field, soldiers rose as slowly as bomb-smoke from their hiding places. The low squat helicopters ranged through the sky in swarms, with their tails up behind them, as if they were dragonflies. Long orange lines came shooting down, illuminating a village (and watching from the open bay of the plane, the television showed the puffs and trails of bullets). The long lean bombs went swimming slowly downward like fish, until they came to the towns and became orange flowers. In the jungle there were no marks except roads and craters. — The television also showed the big eggheaded politicians, who were as energetic as the generals but whose energy turned more toward friendliness than theirs. They were always shaking hands (the family present, the wife's little hand taken protectively in two of the politician's great ones); they were always kissing little girls after being sworn in.

So Jimmy and Code Six went back a long way. Fucking A!

Code Six didn't have his television, his couch, his wife, or his house on Florida Street anymore. Jimmy came down with a fifth of Night Train for him because Code Six drank port now; it was a cheaper drunk than beer.

Now there's my fuckin' soldier! cried Code Six in delight, whapping Jimmy on the back as they stood between the trash cans where the police couldn't see and Jimmy took a pull on a Budweiser in a paper bag and Code Six opened his Night Train and gulped it, and Jimmy said now Code Six I want your input on something and Code Six said man don't bother me with input and that catshit like some beady-eyed chaplain because I see snakes and I see dragons and Jimmy said sober up and Code Six said I'm as sober as you ya stupid drunk and the only advice or input I have to give you is empty your bowels before combat check your M-16 for jams and kill all the fuckin' slopes!

Jimmy said listen bud I want your input about Gloria.

Oh, said Code Six mildly. That's different. We all know how you feel about that. He licked the rim of the bottle and set it gendy down between two trash cans. That was good, he said. Thank you.

Listen, Jimmy said, I told you how I'm always dreaming about her so she won't leave off bothering my sleep and thinking how to be true to her and being aware of how happy she always is.

So get laid or jerk off, said Code Six. What do you need advice for?

Well, said Jimmy, I'm looking for her and I've got to find her and I'm using those whores to help me but is it right? I feel so confused in my mind about it. Do you hear what I'm saying? and Code Six said no and Jimmy said you hear what I'm saying and Code Six raged and said stop talking like a fuckin' slant with all your Chinaman's circumlutions say what you mean and mean what you say, so Jimmy took a deep breath and hanging his head a little bit explained exacdy what he was doing and planned to do with the whores and Code Six laughed and said oh purple hearts of purple Jesus and Code Six said oh shit and Code Six said OK, some advice actually comes to mind right now. But you gotta keep it to yourself, Jimmy, because I can't get involved. I mean, I have a habit to support. Am I clear? — Yeah, Jimmy said.

Well, said Code Six, if the cops get wind you're obligated not to use my name, or nothin' like that.