Sand in the Wind (8 page)

Forsythe asked, “How long were you in the rear? It must of been two months.”

“No, ten weeks. Anything happen while I was gone?”

“Not much,” Tony 5 answered. “We still haven’t gotten a new lieutenant.”

“Good!”

“How’d you manage to skate that long?” Forsythe asked.

“Well, my R and R in Japan was two weeks. I brought the clap back so that was another week. Then I lost my glasses and it took about ten days to get a new pair. I was really in bad shape; couldn’t go on working parties, couldn’t stand lines, just about the only thing I could do was fuck around. Then the heel fell off one of my boots. They didn’t have my size so I had to walk around in Gook sandals. By the time they got my boots in, I got this thing.” He pointed to a lump on his forearm the size of half a golf ball.

Forsythe leaned closer. “Hey man, that’s a real work of art. How’d you grow it?”

“I don’t know. It grew by itself.”

“What do you feed it when it gets hungry?”

“Oh, it’s not picky. It eats anything I do. Anyway, they sent me to Da Nang. I felt kinda important because I thought I was making medical history, but the doctors there acted like it wasn’t much — like some postpuberty thing that happens to everybody. They’d come around, look at it, say ‘Very interesting,’ then walk away. They weren’t sure what it was, but they all agreed I wasn’t pregnant.

“Anyway, they got tired of looking at it, so they medivacked me to a hospital ship to get it removed. What an abortion that was. After waitin’ around about a week, I asked when they were going to operate. They said they’d do it when they got a chance. ‘A chance for what?’ I asked. They said, ‘When we get the time.’ I told them that that was a real load off my mind, and that I’d originally thought they were gonna do it when they didn’t have the time.

“Anyway, the hospital got to be a real drag. We had to eat after the crew did, and they never left anything good. We couldn’t buy anything in the PX except cigarettes — we were Marines and the PX was for the crew, they said. And we had these ass-busting working parties
every fucking day.
”

“Are you shiftin’ us?”

“That’s where the trouble started. We were doing the squid’s work. One day me and a guy named Simpson were swabbing the squid’s recreation room. Here we were mopping their floor while these lazy sailors were playing Ping-Pong, shooting pool, and watching TV —”

“War is hell,” Forsythe commented.

“— Simpson had one arm in a cast and was having a heck of a time with the mop. When he was doing the floor in front of the TV set, some fat sailor said, ‘How ’bout hurrying up so we can watch the program?’ Simpson answered real friendlylike, ‘How ’bout kissin’ my ass?’ Well anyway, this squid forgot he didn’t have any guts and told Simpson he was lucky his arm was in a cast or he’d get his ass kicked. Naturally I didn’t want to see any trouble start so, quick thinker that I am, I tried to cool things off by sticking the end of my mop in the squid’s face. I told him there was a fly on his nose, but he didn’t believe it and came charging at me. I’m not saying this guy was big, but when he got up, the ship started to rock. Before he reached me, Simpson came on like Tarzan and flung his mop between the fat slob’s legs. The big turd hit the deck so hard he slid ten yards on the water from the bucket he knocked over on the way down —”

Hamilton nodded his head while saying, “Served the fucking squid right.”

“— Five of his friends started after me. Luckily, Simpson was an all-state pitcher in high school, because by this time he was over at one of the pool tables flinging billiard balls. Only the United States Navy would be stupid enough to put pool tables on a ship —”

“That’s ’cause the Marine Corps doesn’t have any ships,” Forsythe pointed out.

“Anyway, I saw one of the squids look towards the other pool table. Realizing the tactical danger of such weapons in the hands of the enemy, I hauled ass to the table and jumped on top of it. Luckily, the last slob to use it hadn’t put his cue back in the rack. I’m not bragging, but I put on a display of swordsmanship that would have made Errol Flynn drool. The only guy able to touch a ball was the first guy that tried. I caught him reaching for the five ball. His wrist’ll never be the same. I don’t wanna give you the idea that I was fightin’ ’em off single-handed, Simpson was really on target. Boy, did he have a fast ball. One of those guys is gonna have an earache for the rest of his life. Anyway, Simpson got two lying on the floor at the same time, so the others ran. You shoulda seen the faces of the two on the floor when they realized the others had hauled ass. It didn’t take ’em long to follow. In the meantime, Fatboy, who started the whole thing, finally got up. He decided to leave also. He could really run, considering he was dragging one leg behind him. Didn’t run quite fast enough though. Simpson bounced a cue ball off his head just before he got out the door.

“So here was me and Simpson all alone in the rec room. We had to decide whether we were going to hold the ground we’d taken, or retreat to a more strategic position.”

“You shoulda taken over the whole ship,” Hamilton suggested.

“We were pretty fagged out, so we decided to hold what we had. We stuck a Ping-Pong table in front of the hatch and sat with our backs up against it. After resting a minute, I left Simpson at the hatch and started collecting the pool balls in my empty bucket. It wasn’t ten minutes before some guy starts banging on the table like a maniac, saying he’s an officer and to let him in. We didn’t know whether it was a trick or not, so Simpson moved a card table near the door, put the bucket of pool balls on it, then climbed on himself. When I got the Ping-Pong table moved back far enough, Simpson, who was standin’ on the card table with his arm cocked, said it was okay, the guy
was
an officer. Anyway, we let the funny-looking fag in, and he was
really
pissed. Not only because of what had happened, but also because Simpson couldn’t stop laughin’ because of the look on the weirdo’s face when I pulled the table away and he saw Simpson ready to let go with the billiard ball.

“Anyway, they kept me around for another week trying to figure out what to do with me. My attitude was gettin’ bad and I wasn’t gettin’ along too well with the doctors because they kept on tellin’ me I had a bad attitude —”

“How long did it take them to come up with that diagnosis?” Tony 5 asked.

“They must have worked overtime,” Forsythe added.

“— They finally decided the reason I was givin’ them so much trouble was that I didn’t wanna go back to the bush. I guess they figured it was the worst thing they could do to me, so they sent me back here. They said they were doing it because I was a bad influence on the other patients and the growth on my arm was full grown now and it wouldn’t get any bigger.”

The men sat around nodding their heads until Hamilton asked, “How you gonna get it cut off?”

“They said I can have it done when I rotate back to the States. To tell the truth, I kinda like it — it’s grown on me.”

“Yeah, it sure looks that way,” Forsythe commented. “Tell me, did anything interesting happen to you while you were gone?”

“A lot of things, but you guys probably wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

Forsythe looked at Childs with admiration. “I gotta admit it, that was some fancy skating. Anyway you can get out of it, do it. You owe it to yourself.”

Tony 5 nodded agreement and stood up. “There it is: You owe it to yourself.
  
.
 
.
 
. C’mon, let’s go to the chapel.”

“Wait a minute,” Childs said. “I gotta get somethin’ outa my pack.” While he was digging in his pack, a pool ball rolled out on the cot. He ignored it, and continued to rummage through his gear.

Forsythe picked it up. “What’s this?”

Childs found what he was looking for and put it in his pocket. “Oh, just a souvenir. It had some blood on it, but it rubbed off.” They tossed it around as they walked to the door.

Hamilton looked back and noticed Chalice still sitting down. “C’mon, aren’t you going to chapel?”

“Naw, I’m not interested.”

Forsythe cut in, “You think we are? It’s better than working parties. C’mon.” Chalice got up and followed them out the door.

The chapel was a converted field barracks. Except for crude benches in place of cots and the presence of an altar, it looked exactly like the platoon hootch. There were empty seats towards the front, but they sat in the last row. Tony 5 was on the aisle with Childs next to him. Forsythe sat next to Childs, and Chalice was between Forsythe and Hamilton. Forsythe began juggling the cue ball from hand to hand. Hamilton reached across Chalice and tried to grab it. He ended up with Forsythe’s wrist instead. They were struggling over it as the chaplain walked in. Well over six feet tall, he was extremely broad and powerful looking. His thin black hair, cut skin close on the sides, was squared off into a crew cut on top. It had obviously been waxed in front to make it stand up. He walked towards the altar smiling and shaking hands with a few of the men on the way. His boots and the holster to his .45 were polished to a mirrored finish.

Forsythe and Hamilton were still struggling over the cue ball when the chaplain started speaking in a folksy, good-natured voice. “I’m glad to see all of you here today. I notice a lot of new faces so I’ll introduce myself. I’m Captain Hindman, your battalion chaplain.” There was a loud thud as Hamilton got yanked across Chalice’s knees and onto the floor. Forsythe grinned as he held the cue ball between two fingers right in front of Hamilton’s face. Hamilton grabbed for it and missed.

A dark Marine turned around and scowled, “How about showing a little respect?”

Hamilton looked up with a big, friendly grin on his face. “Sure, man.” He got up off the floor and sat back down on the bench.

The chaplain hadn’t noticed what had happened and was starting his sermon. “Men, today I want to talk to you about victory. Not the type of victory your company commanders usually talk about, but a type of victory related to it. I want to tell you about Jesus’ victory over Satan. Jesus had fasted in the wilderness for forty days and forty nights. Imagine that. We complain when the choppers don’t supply us and we have to go without C-rations for a day or two. Jesus didn’t have any C-rations. Satan came to him and said, ‘If thou be the Son of God, command that these stones be made bread.’ Jesus answered him by saying, ‘Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceedeth out of the mouth of God.’
 
”

Chalice noticed Hamilton looking across him towards Forsythe, eyes focused on the cue ball as Forsythe rubbed it in his hands. Childs sat with his head down, kneading the lump on his forearm. Tony 5’s huge body was leaning forward, arms dangling between his knees. His eyes slowly closed and his chin fell against his chest, causing his head to bob up and down as his lungs expanded and contracted. As he fell into a deeper sleep, his breathing became louder. Chalice heard a change in the chaplain’s tone indicating he was about to make a point.

“You men are probably asking yourselves what this sermon has to do with you. Satan never came up to you and asked you to change stones to bread or offered you all the kingdoms of the world. No, he hasn’t, but he tempts you in other ways with other things —
like marijuana.
”

Forsythe stared disgustedly at Hindman. Childs stopped playing with his lump long enough to raise his head and mumble audibly, “Are you shiftin’ me, Fred?” Hamilton was still looking at the cue ball, and Tony 5 continued to sleep.

The chaplain went on, “You start out smoking marijuana, then you get hooked on other narcotics. Pretty soon you’re stealing and doing other works of the Devil just so you can buy more narcotics. Think about it: You start out smoking a little marijuana to get high and before you know it you’re a full-time employee of the Devil. All you wanted to do was get high. I’ll tell you a better way to get high, the way I do it.
I
get high on Jesus.”

There was a sharp crack. Chalice shot a glance towards Forsythe in time to see the cue ball bouncing between his feet. Tony 5 woke up with a jolt, his eyes nervously shifting from side to side. Hamilton watched the ball as it rolled into the aisle before Forsythe could pick it up. Practically everybody in front of them had turned around to see what had happened. The dark Marine gave Forsythe a hard stare. Forsythe, sitting with a big, guilty grin on his face, said to him in a childlike voice, “I dropped it.” The dark Marine turned back towards the front with a less than satisfied look on his face. Childs strolled nonchalantly into the aisle to pick up the cue ball. Distracted, Chaplain Hindman lost his train of thought. He stood silent for a few moments before continuing the sermon. “As I was saying, I get high when I think about the wonderful things He does, when I think about how much He loves us all, when I think how He loves our country
 
.
 
.
 
.
 
”

When the services were over, most of those present stayed around to talk to the chaplain. Childs quickly got up and left, followed by Hamilton, Forsythe, Tony 5, and Chalice. Tony 5 said he wanted to see somebody and headed off in a different direction. Childs and Hamilton walked in front. Forsythe, flipping the cue ball from hand to hand, and Chalice followed. Childs whispered to Hamilton so the others couldn’t hear, “Is he all right?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Maybe we better ditch him.”

“Naw, he’s okay.”

“He parties?”

“If he doesn’t, we’ll turn him on.”

“Okay.”

Childs turned off the road and led them on a twisting path between a series of ammo bunkers. Chalice had been walking with his head down and hadn’t been paying much attention to where they were going. Suddenly he found himself standing in front of a small Buddhist shrine. The others were already inside. The shrine was surrounded on three sides by the sandbagged walls of the three bunkers built around it. The side free of obstructions looked out over the valley. ‘God! What’s this doing here?’ Ignoring those inside, Chalice slowly circled it. The shrine was only about fifteen feet square. Deep hues of orange and blue seeped through the coat of dust that covered its once brightly painted walls. Centered on a field of orange, a blue and white surreal, fire-breathing dragon dominated the frescos. There were intricately painted Chinese characters to each side of it. The four triangular sections of the roof rose to a pyramidlike apex. Atop this apex was a large ball of smooth, shiny marble banded by different shades of orange and white. Along the four ridges of the roof and facing up towards the marble ball were four convoluted dragons.