"Yes, Yes," smiled the guide and stepped back to plug his microphone jack into a bulkhead socket. His voice echoed tinnily in every helmet and from hidden speakers. "Ladies and gentlemen, please notice the treeline to your right."
There was a lurch as the passengers shifted their positions and craned for a view. Ten-year-old Sammee Jeffries and his eight-year-old sister - Elizabeth shoved their way through, the crowded space to stand next to where their grandfather sat by the open door. The barrel of Elizabeth's plastic M-16 accidentally struck the older man on his sunburned neck but he did not turn or speak.
Suddenly a series of flashes erupted from the treeline along one rice paddy. The passengers gasped audibly as a line of magnesium-bright tracer bullets rose up and lashed toward their ship, missing the rotors by only a few meters. Immediately one of the gunships at the rear of their formation dove, curved back the way they had come in a centrifugally perfect arc, and raked the treeline with rocket and minigun fire. Meanwhile, at the guide's urging, Sammee stood on a low box, grasped the two-handed grip of the heavy M-60, swung it awkwardly to bear in the general direction of the now-distant treeline, and depressed the firing studs. The passengers instinctively clutched at their helmets to block their ears. Heavy cartridges, warm but not hot enough to bum anyone, clattered onto the metal deck.
An explosion split the treeline, sending phosphorous streamers fifty meters into the air and setting several tall palms ablaze. Bits of flaming debris splashed into the quiet rice paddy The passengers laughed and applauded. Sammee grinned back at them and flexed his muscles.
Elizabeth leaned against her grandfather and spoke loudly into his ear. "Isn't this fun, Grandpa?"
He turned to say something but at that second the guide announced that their destination would be coming up on the left side of the ship and Elizabeth was away, shoving her brother aside to get a better view, eager to see the village appear below out of the heat-haze and smoke.
Later that evening five men sat around a table on the fifth-floor terrace of the Saigon Oberoi Sheraton. The air was warm and humid. Occasional gusts of laughter and splashing sounds came up from the pool on the fourth floor terrace. It was well past nine, but the tropical twilight lingered.
"You were on the village mission-tour this morning, weren't you?' asked Justin Jeffries of the young Oriental next to him.
"Yes, I was. Most interesting." The man sat in a relaxed manner, but something about his bearing, the precisely creased safari suit, the intensity of his gaze, suggested a military background.
"You're Nipponese, aren't you?" asked Justin. At the man's smile and nod, Justin went on. "Thought so. Here with the military mission?"
"No, merely on leave. 'R and R' I believe your people used to call it."
"Christ", said the overweight American who sat next to Justin's father-in law. "You've been up north in the PRC fighting Chen's warlords, haven't youT'
"Just so," said the Nipponese and extended his hand to Justin. "Lieutenant Keigo Naguchi."
"Justin Jeffries, Kansas City." Justin's huge hand enclosed the lieutenant's and pumped twice. "This here is my father-in-law, Ralph Disantis."
"A pleasure," said the lieutenant with a quick nod.
"Pleased to meet you," said Disantis.
"I believe I saw you with your grandchildren at the village today," said Naguchi. "A boy and a girI?"
Disantis nodded and sipped his beer. Justin gestured to the heavy-set man next to his father-in-law. "And this is Mr. . . . ah ... Sears, right?"
"Sayers," said the man. "Roger Sayers. Nice to make your acquaintance, Lieutenant. So how's is going up there? Your guys finally getting those little bastards out of the hillcaves?"
"Most satisfactory," said Lieutenant Naguchi. "The situation should be stabilized before the next rainy season."
"Japanese brains and Vietnamese blood, huh?" laughed Sayers. He turned to the fifth man at the table, a silent Vietnamese in a white shirt and dark glasses, and added quickly, "No offense meant. Everybody knows that your basic Viet peasant makes the best foot soldier in the world. Showed us that forty years ago, eh, Mr. . . . ah ... ?"
"Minh," said the little man and shook hands around the table. "Nguyen van Minh." Minh's hair was black, his face unlined, but his eyes and hands revealed that he was at least in his sixties, closer to Disantis's age than that of the Others.
"I saw you on the plane from Denver," said Justin. -visiting family here?"
"No." said Minh" I have been an American citizen since 1976. This is my first trip back to Vietnam. I have no family here now." He turned toward Naguchi. "Lieutenant, I am surprised that you chose to spend your leave on an American's Veterans' Tour."
Naguchi shrugged and sipped at his gin and tonic. "I find it a sharp contrast to modem methods. Up north I am more technician than warrior. Also, of course, learning more about the first of the helicopter wars is valuable to anyone who is interested in military history. You were a veteran of that war, Mr. Disantis?"
