(13)
— Originally published in the Antietam Review (Spring, 1999)
Continued from page (12)
“Changed their target, sir. They know we’re on to them. They figure
we’ve sent our strike force to Tuy Thanh, and we won’t be ready for a
surprise assault here, on our own perimeter. There’s still time. Xuan says
they can’t be in position on this side of the river before two in the morning.”
“But I’ve told General Hackel they’re on their way to Tuy Thanh,” Carver
said.
“I know, sir, and that was the plan. Xuan will be dead by morning.”
Griffin’s voice faded, and his eyes fluttered. Then he rallied. “But even
without calling back the relief column, we’ll have enough men here to beat
off the attack if we get them to the perimeter before the VC hit. We have
almost an hour—” His voice died under Carver’s glare.
“What kind of bullshit do you expect me to swallow?” Carver said. “You
honestly believe that I’m going to call General Hackel at this hour and feed
him a tale like that? I can’t tell if you are lying to me, or if she is lying to
you maybe feeding you what the VC want us to believe. Or, for all I know,
the VC are lying to her, because they know she’s passing it on to you. Use
your head, Griffin. Do you think me so naive as to believe the Viet Cong
would attempt to mount a sapper attack against this base?”
Carver turned away and waved them from the room with a sweep of his
hand.
Kerney started out, head down, fighting the knots in his stomach. At the
door he stopped. Griffin was standing still, head cocked, staring at the back
of Carver’s neck. The muscles in Griffin’s face sagged. Sweat dripped from
his chin. Kerney darted back, took Griffin by the shoulders, spun him around,
and pushed. Griffin stumbled at the doorway, but Kerney caught him under
the arms and kept him moving.
In the moonlight, Griffin stood limp. Kerney twitched in front of him.
“Kid, you okay?”
Griffin’s eyes focused. He closed his mouth and swallowed. His face came
to life. Tears filled his eyes, and he began to chuckle. The chuckle turned to
laughter, tense and hollow. He dropped to his knees and doubled over,
convulsed in gales of laughter, then wrapped his arms around his head and
pushed his face into the sand.
“Stop it,” Kerney cried. “Griff, it was my doing, don’t you see?” But
Griffin was racked with laughter, his face in the sand.
TOM'S TALES