Robert Mason - Chickenhawk - Back in the World - Life After Vietnam

“I know. Too bad we didn’t find each other sooner.”

“I bet you didn’t even mention how many times I saved your life,” Jerry said.

“You saved my life?” I said. I turned to Martie. “Martie, you wouldn’t have this guy as a husband or those two handsome boys if it wasn’t for me being there to keep him from killing himself trying to fly that helicopter.”

“Now I know who to blame,” Martie said with a grin.

When they drove away, I felt guilty. Jerry and Martie were the epitome of the middle-class, hardworking, honest American family and I was a convicted drug smuggler.

Editing was completed by June 1982, and Viking published a bound galley they sent out to reviewers. I made a few changes in the galley, including the fact that Jerry had gotten shot down during the la Drang Valley campaign, spent the night on the ground with the grunts, was nearly overrun in an all-out Viet Cong attack. I’d forgotten that until Jerry talked about it on his visit.

I started working on my robot book again.

My lawyer called to say the district court of appeals had decided not to overrule Judge Blatt’s decision. The vote was three to two. The next step was to take it to the U.S. Supreme Court. “You won’t get a hearing there,” Bowling said.

“So what’s the point?” I said.

“The outside chance they’ll hear it,” Bowling said. “And you’re free until they decide.”

John and I argued over whether we should continue the appeal. I was in favor of checking into jail now and getting it over with. John said that if a shred of hope remained, he wanted to wait to see what happened. Patience wanted me with her, too. I wasn’t courageous enough to go to jail, so I waited.

CHAPTER 23

August 1983– Chickenhawk was officially published.

A first copy came from Gerry by Federal Express. I opened the package. I’d seen the cover, I’d seen the jacket copy, but seeing my manuscript as a fresh-paper, wet-ink actual hardbound book gave me a shot of adrenaline. I put it on a bookshelf with some other books and waited for Patience to come back from shopping. When she got home, I pretended to be busy at the table, and said, “Hand me that dictionary, will you? You know, the one over there.” I pointed to the bookcase. She walked over, looking for the dictionary, and saw Chickenhawk . She squealed with delight, grabbed the book, and came over and punched me in the stomach. It was a happy moment.

I had the book in my hands, but it wasn’t yet in the stores. Viking had sent out review copies. Whether anyone would hear about it was now up to the reviewers.

Robert Wilson published the first review of Chickenhawk in USA Today . Wilson was impressed when I said, about the men in the burn ward I visited, “I saw 18-year-old boys with their faces burned away, bright pink skin stretched over strange, stunted noses. Had someone photographed the men there, twisted and deformed with featureless faces, by the hundreds, the war might have ended sooner. But probably not.” The cynicism of the last line struck Wilson and he went on to say, “If I sound just a little overwrought, I defy you to read this straightforward, in many ways under-wrought, narrative and feel any differently.”

These first reviews took my breath away. John Del Vecchio (author of The Thirteenth Valley ) said in the Philadelphia Inquirer , “ Chickenhawk had me trembling in my seat—fidgeting—wanting it to stop—wanting to get those guys up, off the LZs. Powerful scenes in this personal narrative … made me cry. By the time I was a third into this book, it had me.”

Larry Heinemann (author of Close Quarters ) entitled his Chicago Sun-Times review, “hacking it in a Huey: a superb memoir of Vietnam.”

I had always imagined reviewers laughing at my feeble attempts to be a writer. This was amazing. And not one of these reviews mentioned my legal problems and that I was on my way to prison.

The man I figured would be my toughest reviewer, Towler (still known as Resler in the book), sent me a letter. Towler would know if I’d gotten it right. He’d also now know all about my secret life as a crook. The following is an extract of that letter:

I must say I was stunned in what I read in the last two chapters. I laughed and I cried throughout your book and I truly had a hollow, sickly feeling when I finished it.

I too had dreams that would wake me up at night in a cold sweat. I guess I would jump so much that occasionally Martie would have the bruises to show it. Fortunately, I was able to adjust, but then, I had my flying to come back to. You know, I have never been out of aviation since my first solo in flight school. I can’t imagine what I would have done if I was suddenly grounded.

What you have accomplished with Chickenhawk should make you justifiably proud. I know it can never make up for all the suffering you have endured both during and after Vietnam, but hopefully this book has been your therapy. You no longer need to house all those nightmares within. You’ve let it out for yourself to look at objectively and hopefully others will do the same for themselves when they read it.

I know I don’t have to tell you that someone else suffered, in her own way, right at your side through those many traumatic years and in many ways went through her own private war. I knew by our many conversations in Viet Nam just how much strength your love for Patience and your son provided you when our world seemed like a nightmare. I felt I knew Patience like a brother in Nam and in many ways I envied you. I would watch you read the same letters sometimes five or six times a day. You always carried one from her in your breast pocket.

I pray to God your appeal in court will have a favorable outcome. You’ve served your time and then some. I hope this country can accept that. I know you never had strong feelings toward the Almighty but I feel he let you survive for a reason, two of them being your loved ones, the next so that your story could be told. You have made yourself and all of us proud, so take strength in those who love you and your friends who respect you. You’ll always be a Hawk in my eyes.

Your Buddy, Resler

The next day, Dan Bowling called to tell me the Supreme Court had refused to hear our appeal.

“Now what?” I said.

“The Bureau of Prisons will be in touch. Count on it. Could be a month. Could be a few days.”

Knox called me on the morning of August fourth. “I’m sure you don’t get the New York Times down there in the swamps.”

“I’ve heard some people saw one in Gainesville, couple years ago.”

“Great. You have just been reviewed by Christopher Lehmann- Haupt in the Times . And it’s a great review. Got a minute?”

“Sure.”

Knox read me the review.

Lehmann-Haupt started by calling Chickenhawk a “remarkable journal based on a year spent flying assault helicopters … in Vietnam.” He said, “So compelling are Mason’s technical details that only by subliminal degrees do we become aware of his mounting battle fatigue.” He ended the review this way: I wish I could close by quoting in full one of the scenes in which Mr. Mason demonstrates his use of detail … But each of these scenes is too long to be quoted in full. Besides, it is the even longer combat scenes that catch the real flavor of Chickenhawk . It is to combat that Bob Mason is always drawn, no matter how frightened he feels … And in that paradox lies the terror of his hypnotic narrative. It is combat that becomes his natural environment. Combat becomes the only habitat in which he feels alive. Combat possesses his dreams long after he has left the war. And in realizing this, he discovers that he has gone quite mad.