THERE BE DRAGONS (13 page)

“You really need to hurry up with this argument, Private. My head hurts and we need to move out to search a village soon.”

“Since Noah took the dinosaurs on the ark, that means they lived after the flood. They lived with men. So, if they lived with men, we must have evidence of this. Right?” said Diaz.

“Yeah, I guess.” Jacobs shook his head. “I can’t believe I’m humoring a conversation about kindergarten stuff like the ark. I must be desperate. How did he fit dinosaurs on the ark, anyway? They’re kind of big.”

“The big ones are, yes. No question of that, but the babies ain’t. Plus, do you know how big the ark is?”

“No.”

“The Bible tells us. It gives precise measurements and it is big enough. Do you know most cultures around the world believe in the flood? Some details have changed, some names are different, but people who have never met, or even read a bible, have known of the flood. The events in the Bible are historical.”

“Okay, get to the point. Give me the evidence that dinosaurs lived with man.”

“You have heard the stories, the stories about the dragons in Nam?” asked Diaz.

“You are now telling me, you believe in dragons? Flying, fire-breathing dragons?” It was part question, part insult.

“Dragon is just the name used for dinosaur before the name dinosaur was first created. That’s why you won’t find the name dinosaur in the Bible, cuz it was created after the King James translation. Descriptions of dragons are found in all cultures. Cultures that had not met, but yet they all knew of dragons. Even Alexander the Great wrote of them. So did Marco Polo and the Jewish historian Josephus. They wrote of them as being a part of history. Not as myth,” said Diaz.

“You know what, Private? This conversation is over. Stephens told me you were a nutcase.”

“Again you have fallen in his trap. Don’t turn into him, Jacobs. Don’t,” pleaded Diaz.

“I disliked Stephens at first. I really did. I didn’t like his views, attitude, or his opinions, but the more time I spend here, the more he is the only one making sense.”

“He’s the only one making sense?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I hate to tell you this, but your beloved Stephens believes in dragons too.”

“No chance.”

“He has no choice,” said Diaz.

“Why?”

“Cuz, like me, he has seen one. He has shot at one. He has made one bleed. Once you see the red stuff, you know something is real.”

“When was this?” asked Jacobs.

“Last night, after the ambush.”

“Let me talk to Stephens about this.”

“You can’t. He told me not to tell anyone.”

“Well, isn’t that convenient?”

“Don’t mention this to him. I don’t wanna get shot in the back in our next firefight. That’s what can happen if you anger him.”

“You sound as paranoid as I was. I’d have thought you’d have learned by now. But I guess not. I guess the Good Book is warping your mind.”

“He shot our last LT through the eye,” said the private.

“That’s crazy, Diaz.” Jacobs spoke firm.

“Jackson saw it.”

“Why didn’t he report it?”

“He did. But the captain said he couldn’t trust the testimony of a black man. The captain is just as bad as Stephens. Again, don’t tell him we spoke of this. Only me, Jackson, you, and the captain know of it. It needs to stay that way, for Jackson’s safety.”

“This is all too much for me to handle at the moment.”

“I understand, but it’s important for you to know,” said Diaz.

“To know what? That dragons exist?” Jacobs raised his voice. Anger was building.

“Yes, dragons … and God. For even the demons believe there is one God … and shudder. And remember when talking to Stephens, Satan wouldn’t growl at you. He’d smile at you.”

“Are you insinuating Stephens is Satan?”

“No. Not Satan. But someone who is most definitely influenced by people who work for him.”

“Let’s leave this conversation here, Private. Don’t worry, I won’t tell Stephens about any of this. Just have some chow and leave me alone for a few minutes.”

“Yes, sir.” Diaz stood. “I’ll add this before I go, something from the Good Book, good for you to chew on. When the wicked, even mine enemies and my foes, came upon me to eat up my flesh, they stumbled and fell. Though a host should encamp against me, my heart shall not fear: though war should rise against me, in this will I be confident.” On that he left.

Jacobs looked at the pieces of paper in the foxhole.

The enemy.

The NVA.

Stabbing her with bayonets.

Laughing.

He didn’t care anymore.

• • • • •

Diaz exited the thick jungle growth to find himself on a trail of dirt, which was stone dry. The sun had burnt all moisture away. Diaz knelt on the trail’s edge to keep himself from being in plain view.

Some dust hung low to the ground and swirled in the breeze.

Jacobs and Stephens were sat back a ways under the jungle canopy watching the private.

“The background of the jungle will help to disguise him at a distance,” Stephens said to Jacobs. “The outline of his body and his fatigues will blend into the green foliage.”

Across the trail lay a rice paddy. No one was working in the field. It sat in wait, ready to be harvested. A few birds were walking through it, some of them chirping, others looking for food.

The trail went upwards in a slope and grew into a hill. Smoke emanated from the horizon.

Jacobs and Stephens duck-walked from the jungle to Diaz. They both knelt behind him and Diaz pointed up the trail. They saw the animal.

“That, LT, is the Vietnamese domesticated buffalo,” said Stephens.

“So, we’re close to the village?” asked Jacobs.

“No doubt. Do you smell that?” asked Stephens.

“I smell something. Not sure what it is,” said Jacobs.

“That’s camphorwood and the scent of dirty gook. The dinks use the wood for cooking fires,” said Stephens.

“I see smoke up that hill. The village must be on the high ground,” said Diaz.

“I can see something else now,” Stephens said. “Just beyond the buffalo. It’s a silhouette of a man. He’s leaning on a hoe. Must be a peasant.”

“I guess it’s a good sign he hasn’t run off to warn the others in the village about us, right?” asked Jacobs.

“Maybe, LT. Or maybe he doesn’t see us. Either way, never let your guard down around these people. They might be civilians but they’re still zipper-heads,” said Stephens.

“I’ll be sure to not do, Stephens,” said Jacobs with a nod. “Okay Diaz, start us up the hill.”

Diaz stood and started the walk up the trail. He kept to one side of it, near the jungle’s edge. Jacobs and Stephens followed on as the rest of the men started to emerge from the tree

line.

First was Cage with Maxwell.

Maxwell took pictures of the buffalo ahead.

“Don’t get in the way up there,” Cage said to him.

“Don’t worry. You won’t even know I’m here.”

Jackson was next out, the M-60 rested on his shoulder.

Teacher jogged to his side. Teacher’s arm was now out of the sling but his sleeve had been cut off. He had bandages over the bullet wound.

“Does it hurt to run, with your injured shoulder and all?” Jackson asked.

“Not if I’m careful and don’t stomp too hard. You got a smoke, Jackson?”

Jackson removed one from the pack on his helmet.

Teacher took it, lit it, and inhaled. “You know, I didn’t smoke before I got here.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that from heaps of guys,” said Jackson.

“Did you smoke before getting here?”

“If you ever meet my mom, I didn’t smoke before, I don’t smoke now.”

“You’re a very naughty boy, Jackson.”

“Terrible.”

The Doc waved the smoke that came over Teacher’s shoulder from his face and coughed. “Could you direct that smoke somewhere else, Private?”

“Yeah, sure, Doc. I’ll somehow harness the power of the wind and change its direction for you.” Teacher looked to Jackson, they smiled. Then he took another drag and made sure the smoke blew in the Doc’s direction.

“Very mature, Teacher. You really are a grade-A asshole,” said Doc.

Buttons joined the Doc. “Give him a break,” he said towards Teacher.

“You his boyfriend now, Buttons?” asked Teacher.

“Just cut him some slack. Or maybe if you get shot up, the Doc won’t be so fast to rush to help you.”

Teacher turned around and blew smoke in Buttons’s face. He stopped Buttons and the Doc from walking forward by placing his shotgun across their chests. “Don’t say stuff like that. Don’t joke about stuff like that. Okay, Buttons?”

“Or what?” asked Buttons. Nerves affected his voice’s pitch. It went higher than usual.

“Or maybe I’ll miss the enemy with my 12-gauge and hit you by mistake. Then your boyfriend can give you mouth to mouth.”

Smith brushed by Teacher and made sure he made contact with his wounded arm.

Teacher turned to see the back of Smith as he walked up the trail. “Watch it. You hit my bad arm, asshole.”

“I know,” said Smith.

Stephens walked back down the trail. He passed by Smith and gave him a stern look. He stopped at Teacher, Doc, and Buttons.

“Will you ladies shut up and move? Jacobs is getting sick of the noise you’re making. I don’t blame him. It’s beginning to annoy me too. And you don’t wanna do that. Stay focused, all of you. We’re entering the rats’ cage here.” Stephens turned and left.

The men started walking up the trail again. They kept quiet.

“Thank you, Sergeant.” Jacobs said once Stephens was back by him.

“Don’t mention it.”

They reached the top of the hill.

The civilian was still leant on his hoe. He had watched their entire approach and hadn’t moved an inch. He was old, painfully thin, and wore the black pajama-type clothes. He looked Diaz in the eye as the private neared him.

Diaz said something to the old man in Vietnamese and nodded at him. The man said nothing back, nor did he return the gesture.

Jacobs walked passed the old man. “I get the feel of the reaper from him,” he said to Stephens. “Something is off. That man is scary somehow. His silence and stillness are unsettling. He doesn’t seem intimidated by foreign soldiers.”

“You’re right. I sense something is wrong too,” said Stephens. “I bet they’re hiding something.”

In the village, the squads fanned out through the thatched hooches and passed by more civilians.

Some of the villagers ignored the soldiers and continued their daily routine, while others just stood still and watched.

Diaz almost tripped over a small child who was running around. The child’s mother snatched the kid away and held him to her leg. Diaz smiled to them and said something else in Vietnamese.

Some of the buildings had been reinforced with rusted American C ration boxes. Each hooch had a tall pottery jar full of water by its entrance. The village smelt of rotten fish.

Jacobs could hear the panicked babbling of Vietnamese children and women and the grunts of pigs and cackles of hens all around him. “Search the village,” he said as he came to a stop at its center. “See what they’re hiding.”

Diaz went and stood by the LT. “You noticed anything?”

“Yeah,” said Jacobs. “No younger men, only older ones and women, and kids.”“Got a family bunker here, LT!” shouted Stephens. He was in a hooch. “I found it on the floor. It’s been dug under a dirt mound and the entrance has been covered with round woven baskets. They use these to protect the occupants from marauders of all nationalities … or to hide NVA swine.”

He pushed the baskets aside with the barrel of his CAR-15.

Jacobs heard cries flood out from inside the bunker.

Stephens knelt and peered in the hole. “Okay, get out, now!” he shouted in.

Nothing happened.

“Diaz, get over here and flush these rats out,” ordered Stephens.

Diaz got over and knelt in position by Stephens. He shouted the orders in Vietnamese.

Some hands appeared in the hole. They showed they were unarmed.

Diaz and Stephens stood up as a woman and two small children exited.

“Diaz, take these into the center of the village. Round all the villagers up there,” said Stephens.

“Yes, Sergeant.” Diaz led the woman and children from the hooch.

The woman was still crying as shouted at Diaz in foreign, begging.

Stephens removed a Willie Pete from his webbing. He pulled the pin, threw it in the hole, turned and jogged out the building. The Willie Pete exploded.

“LT! Sarge!” called Jackson, who stood waist deep in a hole. Around the hole were rice urns that he had pulled from it.