Sons of Fortune (16 page)

Nat
began leaving the office later and later each evening, and even began to wonder
if he was in a foreign country. When you have a Big Mac and Coke for lunch,
Kentucky Fried Chicken with a Budweiser for dinner, and return to the officers”
quarters every evening to watch the ABC News and reruns of 77

Sunset
Strip, what proof is there that you ever left home?

Nat
made several surreptitious attempts to join his regiment in the front line, but
as the weeks passed he came to realize that Colonel
Tremlett’s
influence permeated everywhere; his applications would land back on his desk,
rubber-stamped:

Refused,
reapply in one month.

Whenever
Nat requested an interview to discuss the issue with a field officer, he never
managed to see anyone above the rank of staff major. On each occasion, a
different officer would spend half an hour trying to convince Nat that he was
doing a valuable and worthwhile job in requisition. His combat file was the
thinnest in Saigon.

Nat
was beginning to realize that his stand on “a matter of principle” had served
no purpose. In a month’s time Tom would be starting his second year at Yale,
and what did he have to show for his efforts other than a crew cut and an
inside knowledge of how many paper clips the army required in Vietnam in any
one month?

Nat
was sitting in his office, preparing for the new intake of recruits due to
report the following Monday, when all that changed.

Accommodation,
clothing and travel documents had kept him occupied all day and well into the
evening.

Urgent
was stamped on several of them, as the CO always wanted to be fully briefed on
the background of any new intake before they landed in Saigon. Nat hadn’t
noticed how long the task had taken, and when he had completed the final form,
he decided to drop them off in the adjutant’s office before grabbing something
to eat in the officers’ mess.

As
he strolled past the ops room, he experienced a surge of anger; all the
training he had been put through at Fort Dix and Fort
Benning
had been a complete waste of time. Although it was nearly eight o’clock, there
were still a dozen or so operatives, some of whom he recognized, manning the
phones and updating a large operational map of North Vietnam.

On
his way back from the adjutant’s office, Nat dropped into the ops room to see
if anyone was free to join him for dinner. He found himself listening to the
troop movements of the Second Battalion, 503rd Parachute Infantry Regiment. He
would have slipped back out and gone to the mess alone if it hadn’t been his
own regiment. The Second Battalion was facing a barrage of mortar fire from the
Vietcong and was holed up on the wrong side of the
Dyng
River, defending itself from a further onslaught. The red phone on the desk in
front of Nat began to ring insistently. Nat didn’t move a muscle.

“Don’t
just stand there, Lieutenant, pick it up and find out what they want,” demanded
the operations officer. Nat quickly obeyed the order.

“Mayday,
Mayday, this is Captain Tyler, do you read me?”

“I
do, Captain, this is Lieutenant Cartwright. How can I help, sir?”

“My
platoon has been ambushed by Victor Charlie just above the
Dyng
River, grid reference SEBLEDB NNE71. I need a flight of
Hueys
with full medical backup. I have ninety-six
men,
eleven of them are already down, three dead, eight injured.”

A
staff sergeant came off another phone.

“How
do I reach emergency rescue?” asked Nat.

“Contact Blackbird base at the Eisenhower field.
Pick up the white phone and give the officer of the watch the grid reference.”

Nat
grabbed the white phone, and a sleepy voice answered.

“This
is Lieutenant Cartwright. We have a Mayday call. Two platoons trapped on the
north side of the
Dyng
River, grid reference SEBLEDB
NNE71; they’ve been ambushed and require immediate assistance.”

“Tell
them we’ll be off the ground and on our way in five minutes,” said a voice now
fully alert.

“Can
I join you?” asked Nat, cupping his hand over the mouthpiece, expecting the
inevitable rejection.

“Are
you authorized to fly in
Hueys
?”

“Yes,
I am,”
lied
Nat.

“Any
parachute experience?”

“Trained
at Fort
Benning
,” said Nat, “sixteen jumps at six
hundred feet from S-123’s, and in any case, it’s my regiment out there.”

“Then
if you can get here in time, Lieutenant, be my guest.”

Nat
replaced the white phone and returned to the red one. They’re on their way,
Captain,” was all he said.

Nat
ran out of the ops room and into the parking lot.

A
duty corporal was dozing behind the wheel of a jeep.

Nat
leaped in beside him, banged the palm of his hand on the horn and said,
“Blackbird base in five minutes.”

“But
that’s about four miles away, sir,” said the driver.

“Then
you’ll have to get moving, won’t you, Corporal,” shouted Nat.

The
corporal switched on the engine, threw the jeep into gear, and accelerated out
of the parking lot, lights on, leaving the palm of one hand on the horn and the
other on the steering wheel. “Faster, faster,” repeated Nat, as those who were
still on the streets of Saigon after curfew leaped out of their way along with
several startled chickens. Three minutes later, Nat spotted a dozen Huey
helicopters perched on the airfield up ahead. The blades on one of them were
already rotating.

“Put
your foot down,” Nat repeated.

“It’s
already touching the floor, sir,” replied the corporal as the gates of the
airfield came into sight. Nat counted again: seven of the helicopters now had
their blades whirring.

“Shit,”
he said as the first one took off.

The
jeep screeched to a halt at the gates to the compound, where an MP asked to see
their identity cards.

“I
have to be on one of those choppers in under a minute,” shouted Nat passing
over his papers.

“Can’t
you speed it up?”

“Just
doing my job, sir,” said the MP as he checked both men’s papers.

Once
both identity cards had been handed back, Nat pointed to the one helicopter
whose blades were not yet rotating, and the corporal shot off toward it,
skidding to a halt by an open door, just as its blades began to turn.

The
pilot looked down and grinned, “You only just made it, Lieutenant,” he said.
“Climb aboard.” The helicopter had lifted off even before Nat had been given a
chance to click on his safety harness. “You want to hear the bad news, or the
bad news?” asked the pilot.

“Try
me,” said Nat.

“The
rule in any emergency is always the same.

Last
off the ground is the first to land in enemy territory.”

“And the bad news?”

“Will
you marry me?” asked Jimmy.

Joanna
turned and looked at the man who had brought her more happiness in the past
year than she could ever have imagined possible. “If you still want to ask me
the same question on the day you graduate, freshman, my reply will be yes, but
today the answer is still no.”

“But why?
What could
have possibly changed in a year or two’s time?”

“You’ll
be a little older, and hopefully a little wiser,” replied Joanna with a smile.
“I’m twenty-five and you’re not yet twenty.”

“What
difference can
that make if we want to spend the rest
of our lives together?”

“Just
that you might not feel that way when I’m fifty and you’re forty-five.”

“You’ve
got it all wrong,” said Jimmy.

“At
fifty you’ll be in your prime, and I’ll be a debauched husk, so you’d better
grab me while I’ve still got some energy left.”

Joanna
laughed. “Try not to forget, freshman, that what we’ve been through during the
past few weeks may also be affecting your judgment.”

“I
don’t agree. I believe the experience can only have strengthened our
relationship.”“

“That’s
possible,” said Joanna, “but in the long run, you should never make an
irreversible decision on the back of good or bad news, because it’s just
possible that one of us will feel differently when this all blows over.”

“Do
you feel differently?” asked Jimmy quietly.

“No,
I don’t,” said Joanna firmly, as she touched his cheek. “But my parents have
been married for nearly thirty years, and my grandparents lived to celebrate
their golden wedding anniversary, so when I get married I want it to be for
life.”

“All
the more reason for us to get married as quickly as possible,” said Jimmy.
“After all, I’m going to have to live to the age of seventy if we hope to
celebrate our golden wedding.”

Joanna
laughed. “I’ll bet your friend Fletcher would agree with me.”

“You
could be right, but you’re not marrying Fletcher.

In
any case, my bet is that he and my sister will be together for at least fifty
years.”

“Freshman,
I couldn’t love you anymore if I wanted to, but remember that I’ll be at
Columbia next fall, and you’ll still be at Yale.”

“But
you can still change your mind about taking that job at Columbia.”

“No,
it was only public opinion that forced the board to reverse their decision. If
you’d seen the look on their faces when they delivered their verdict, you’d have
realized they couldn’t wait to see the back of me. We’ve made our point,
freshman, so I think it would be better for everyone if I moved on.”

“Not
everyone,” said Jimmy quietly.

“Because
once I’m no longer around to haunt them, they’re going to find it far easier to
amend the rules,” said Joanna, ignoring his comment. “In twenty years” time,
students will never believe such a ridiculous regulation even existed.”

“Then
I’ll have to get myself a commuter ticket to New York, because I’m not going to
let you out of my sight.”

“I’ll
be at the station to meet you, freshman, but while I’m away, I hope you’ll take
out other women. Then, if you still feel the same way about me on the day you
graduate, I’ll be happy to say yes,” she added as the alarm went off.

“Hell,”
said Jimmy, as he leaped out of bed, “can I use the bathroom first, because
I’ve a nine o’clock lecture, and I don’t even know what the subject is.”

“Napoleon
and his influence on the development of American law,” said Joanna.

“I
thought you told us that American law was more influenced by the Romans and the
English than any other nation?”

“Half
a mark, freshman, but you’ll still need to attend my nine o’clock lecture if
you hope to find out why. By the way, do you think you could do two things for
me?”

“Only
two?” said Jimmy as he turned on the shower.

“Could
you stop staring at me like a lost puppy whenever I give a lecture?”

Jimmy
stuck his head back around the door, “No,” he said, as he watched Joanna slip
out of her nightie. “What’s the second?”

“Well,
could you at least look interested in what I’m saying, and perhaps even take
the occasional note?”

“Why
should I bother to take notes when it’s you who grades my papers?”

“Because
you won’t be pleased with the grade I’ve given your latest effort,” said
Joanna, as she joined him in the shower.

“Oh,
and I was hoping for an A for that particular masterpiece,” said Jimmy as he
began soaping her breasts.

“Do
you by any chance recall who you suggested was the biggest influence on Napoleon?”

“Josephine,”
said Jimmy without hesitation.

“That
might even have been the correct answer, but it isn’t what you wrote in your
essay.”

Jimmy
stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel.

“What
did I write?” he asked, turning to face her.

“Joanna.”

Within
minutes, all twelve helicopters were flying in a formation. Nat looked behind
him at the two rear gunners, who were staring intently out into the black
cloudless night. He slipped on a pair of earphones and listened to the flight
lieutenant.

“Blackbird
One to group, we’ll be out of allied air space in four minutes, then I
anticipate an ETA of twenty-one hundred hours.”

Nat
found himself sitting bolt upright as he listened to the young pilot. He
glanced out of a side window at stars that would never be seen on the American
continent. He could feel the adrenalin pumping through his body as they flew
nearer to the enemy lines. At last he felt he was part of this damn man’s war.
His only surprise was that he sensed no fear. Perhaps that would come later.