THE TALE EMERGED from Reno like an endless string of scarves yanked from a magician’s mouth. Every time he seemed ready to wrap things up, another impossible detail flew out. Never had Becca heard a story more riveting, more bizarre, or more bogus. And yet, it explained the origin of King’s tattoo. It explained this CO Proudfoot they were all going to see. But it explained nothing about Kleos or what kind of danger her father was facing.
“Story’s not over yet,” Reno said. He wheezed like a runner whose lungs were on the verge of collapse.
“We can take a break,” Becca offered. But he only shook his head. He needed to power through.
“Our next mission, again in Cambodia, was to surveil a North Vietnamese army weapons supply. We were supposed to assess the size and strength of the outfit and make a report about whether to send in the big guns. But everything was different now. Willy walked like an Indian. He didn’t make so much as a peep. There was no sign of Charlie on the first day. But that night, something strange happened.
“See, Willy and the CO had been spending a lot of time together, always involved in these intense conversations about one of Willy’s books. It bothered me, you know, ’cause the CO was a no-bullshit guy. And Willy was nutty, wearing that so-called heart in a sack around his neck. I was starting to question whether the CO was really in his right mind, whether killing that woman had caused him to snap. But after they thought King and I were asleep, I overheard the two of them talking. My ears really pricked up when I heard Willy say that he never wanted to go home again, because of course, that’s all we wanted. To get the fuck out of the jungle. The CO asked Willy how Vietnam was in any way preferable to his cushy university. And Willy told this story about how he’d fallen in love with somebody back at school and gotten caught and that’s why the university had been so happy to get rid of him when the army came calling.”
“You mean he slept with a teacher?” Becca asked.
“That’s what the CO wanted to know.”
“And what did Willy say?”
“He made advances toward his adviser.” Reno raised his eyebrows at her. “His male adviser.”
“Oh,” she said.
“So then Willy said, ‘I don’t think I ever felt like myself until I came here. For the first time in my life, I have a purpose.’
“‘But even if that thing in the pouch is what you say it is, Willy,’ the CO said, ‘Durga’s not your god. And Li Sing wasn’t your village.’
“‘They are now. Proudfoot, life back home—it was intolerable. It wasn’t really life at all. But here! This is the only place that I’ve ever felt true to myself. That trouble with my adviser—’
“‘Don’t tell me about that, Willy,’ the CO said. ‘I don’t want to hear about it.’
“‘But you’re—’
“‘I’m a soldier! I’m the leader of this squad. I’m responsible for completing the mission and getting us home. That’s who I am.’
“And then things turned strange,” Reno said. “I couldn’t see either of them, but I could feel the awkwardness, thick and sticky-like.
“‘Why is it, Proudfoot,’ asked Willy, ‘that you and I never talk about Achilles and Patroclus?’
“‘We talk about them,’ said the CO.
“‘Their relationship,’ Willy said. ‘That part of it, we don’t discuss.’
“‘You want to talk about them? Fine. They were like brothers to each other.’
“‘Brothers?’ Willy repeated.
“‘What do you want from me, Willy?’ the CO asked.
“‘The way Patroclus puts on Achilles’s armor and rushes into battle. The way that Achilles grieves over him, pouring dust over his head and face and lying down in the dirt. Achilles says he’d die rather than live in a world without Patroclus. And you call that the love between brothers.’
“Willy stopped talking then, like he was waiting for the CO to refute him. But the CO was silent. After a little while, I heard Willy speak the CO’s name. And then, in a voice that sounded so pitiful it made my insides hurt, Willy said, ‘Proudfoot, if I die, how will you grieve for me?’”
“And then what happened?” Becca asked, hunching over her legs so that her head and Reno’s were side by side.
“Nothing,” Reno said. “The CO never answered.”
Hearing this, Becca’s heart opened into sadness; she wanted to say something or do something to ease Willy’s pain. Where, she wondered, was Willy now?
“Anyway, the next day, we resumed the march. At some point, Willy calls out for us to give a wide berth to this particular bush. Only your dad wasn’t paying attention, and he just kept coming. And fast as a whip, Willy sticks the neck of his rifle into your father’s chest, halting him in his tracks. And we all look down and there, on the ground, inches from your father’s feet, is this bouncing Betty, just sitting pretty in a pool of sunlight, like the thing was fucking tanning itself. Had Willy not been there, that mine woulda jumped belly high and disemboweled your father. And as for you and me? Not sitting here right now. That’s for sure.”
Becca shivered, thinking about the close call and how Willy had likely saved her father’s life. She wanted to ask more questions, but Reno hurried on with the story. “We stopped at dusk, ate long rats for dinner, sharpened our knives, and got our gear in order. The plan was to march forward as a group and then split into pairs. King and I would circle the perimeter of the weapons supply to get a sense of its size, and Willy and the CO would assess the route in and out. We’d meet back at our base camp and call in the report. Depending on what we found, the major might send in the gunships. It was supposed to be a noncontact mission. ‘If you get in the shit,’ the CO said, ‘throw some smoke flares. But don’t get in the shit.’ He and Willy split off and disappeared into the jungle.
“The weapons hub was like a hive. King and I found coils of barbed wire strung between the trees, and the brush haphazardly thinned. Shadows moved between firelight. Then, suddenly, we heard shouting, followed by a quick pop of gunfire. Sparks flared and vanished as bullets sprayed into the black. One of us had tripped up, and the NVA thought they were getting ambushed. King waved me forward and we made our way to the far side of the camp. If the CO and Willy were in trouble, we had to help them. We saw a group of five NVA up ahead. We shot one down, but then the remaining four morphed into seven or eight, their bodies doubling like a string of paper men. The last one to step out raised an RPG to his shoulder. We dropped flat, pushed ourselves into the undergrowth. The rocket missed us but sent a wave of heat and smoke over our backs. Something sharp bit into my neck. King was cupping his ear and there was blood on his face. I was bleeding, half frozen with shock. Your dad pulled two smoke grenades from his belt and threw them. Then the world exploded into yellow and cherry-colored clouds. We struggled up, sprayed a round of fire to cover ourselves, and ran.
“At our base camp, King called in the pickup coordinates and the grid coordinates of the weapons hub. We gathered up everybody’s packs and headed toward the pickup spot. King helped me bandage up my neck. And then a second later the CO came crashing out of the trees, followed by tracer fire, shouting ‘Move!’ He had Willy’s pouch around his neck.
“The Huey was just coming down, whipping up a cyclone of hot wind. The three of us shot back into the trees, then cut through the long, stinging grasses and threw ourselves into the bird. Then we were in the air, swinging up and away as the gunships flew in and let loose over the weapons hub. Fire flowers bloomed from the ground. It was gorgeous. I am not ashamed to admit that it was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
Reno paused. Becca waited for him to continue, but he didn’t. He just sat there, silent. Finally, she asked, “What happened to Willy?”
“I don’t know. The CO wouldn’t tell us.”
“And that’s it?”
“No,” Reno said. “There’s one more thing. A few months later, the CO came back from leave in Saigon. He didn’t have the pouch anymore and when we asked where it was, he said he’d had an operation and now the heart was safe. I didn’t have a fucking clue what that meant, so I asked for an explanation.”
“Okay.” Becca’s heart was pounding. Maybe she wasn’t ready for this after all. Maybe she wanted to stay on the outside of things, where people lived normal, nonpsychotic lives.
“In Saigon, the CO found a doctor who’d agreed to slice his stomach open. He had the doctor insert Durga’s heart. Then he got his belly sewed back up.”