Chapter 11
Forty-Nine Bye-Byes
Forty nine reasons all in a line
All of them good ones, all of them lies
Drifting with my lady, we're oldest of friends
Need a little work and there's fences to mend
Monday September 18, 1967
Live from our newsroom
in New York, it’s Walter Cronkite with the news...with Bernard Kalb reporting
from Saigon...and Dan Rather in Washington, DC.
Good evening. During a live
performance yesterday evening on the Ed Sullivan show, Jim Morrison and The
Doors defied CBS censors by not revising lyrics to their Number One hit, Light
My Fire. Producers of the Ed Sullivan Show have indicated that The Doors will
not be invited back.
“Mangan? Mangan!”
Hearing his name, Dan jogged over to the Corporal holding a clipboard.
“Are you PFC Mangan?”
“Sir. Yes, sir!”
“I’m a Corporal. You don’t have to call me sir anymore.”
“Yes, Suh…Ah, yes!”
“The Captain wants to see you.”
Dan followed the other Marine across the parking area, into a white clapboard building and down a long hall to an office. He and the Corporal both snapped to attention in front of the desk where a tall, thin, freckled officer was flipping though a file folder.
“You can leave, Corporal.” The Captain never looked up from his reading.
Dan continued to stand at attention as the other Marine backed out of the office.
“PFC Mangan?” The Captain finally looked up.
“Sir, yes sir!” Dan tried to stand taller.
“Quite an impressive record, Private.”
“Sir?” Dan hoped he was talking about Boot Camp and not his time with the Cowhands.
“Your Drill Instructor recommended you for Scout and Sniper School. Did you know that?”
“Sir, No sir.” Dan thought snipers had to be the rank of Lance Corporal or above. And certainly the Corps wouldn’t waste that kind of training on a two-year enlistment.
“It takes special skills to qualify, especially right out of ITR. A keen eye and steady hand are obvious, but it also takes a certain mindset that is very rare. Have you given any consideration to taking your four week basic ITR and then moving into Sniper training?”
“Sir, I wasn’t aware I had that option, sir. I’m a PFC, sir.”
“That’s not a problem. That can be corrected.”
“Sir, I’m a two-year enlistment, sir.”
“You would have to extend your enlistment in order to take advantage of this opportunity.”
“Could I have some time to consider this opportunity, sir?” Dan had made the correct assumption. They wouldn’t waste the training on a two year enlistment, but he hadn’t considered serving more than that.
“I need a decision by Oh-Eight-Hundred tomorrow.”
“I’ll have my answer by then, sir.”
“Mangan. This is a rare opportunity to serve the Corps and your country. Do you understand that? I wouldn’t take it lightly.”
“Sir, yes sir.” Dan responded.
“Dismissed, Mangan.”
Dan rejoined the other Marines, knowing his fate was sealed. If he accepted this “rare opportunity” he’d spend at least four years in the Marine Corps. As a sniper, at least two of those years would be spent in Southeast Asia, killing the “enemy.” Being selected for sniper training was considered a huge honor by the Corps, but was it really what he wanted? If he turned it down, he would certainly be rewarded by being sent directly to Vietnam.
It wasn’t difficult for Dan to decide what he would do.
“At least let me pay for your parking decal. Three bucks won’t come close to covering my share of the gas all semester.” Trixie and Tad Webster were sitting in his car in the driveway of Crabapple Farm. They had finished their first day of the fall semester at the Community College.
“I told you, Trixie. I’m driving back and forth each day and your company on the ride is payment enough. It’s no trouble.”
Spider Webster originally was skeptical about Trixie working with the Sleepyside Police Department, having believed that the station house was no place for a woman, especially one as young as Trixie Belden. However, her breakthrough on the Sparta Stripper case and her calm and professional handling of an emergency her second night as a dispatcher had quickly changed his mind. Literally overnight, he had become her strongest supporter. He made a point of stopping by when she was working, whether he was on duty or not, to check on her, but also because her passion for police work was infectious. He hadn’t felt so enthused about his work since his days as a rookie. Once he’d learned that she would be taking the cross-county bus back and forth to classes at the Community College, he’d insisted that she ride with his younger brother, Tad.
Tad also was enrolled in the Police Science program, but he was anything but serious about his class work. Tad’s primary reason for being in school was to avoid the draft. Spider worried about his brother’s irresponsibility and hoped that some of Trixie’s dedication to school work and the police profession might rub off on his brother.
Trixie was sitting on the front porch waiting when Tad pulled into the driveway that morning, looking like he’d just rolled out of bed. After making a few jokes about his disheveled appearance, Trixie had asked how much he would need for gas money.
Spider had already told Tad there would be no exchange of money, reminding Tad what name was on the title of the car, as well as how much the Belden family had done for the two brothers over the years. And Tad had to admit that he wasn’t disappointed to be spending time with Trixie. He’d certainly appreciated how attractive the former tomboy had become over the past few years and he knew that Jim Frayne and Dan Mangan, as well as her overly protective brothers weren’t around.
“I told you, Trixie. No money. You can help me with the classes I’m retaking. That will be payment enough.”
“You’re retaking a class?”
“Two. I’m lucky they didn’t kick me out last semester. But my overall GPA is just barely a 2.0, so I didn’t lose my deferment. I’ll need help this semester for certain. I was hoping you might be my tutor or something.”
Trixie offered her hand. “I never thought I’d ever tutor anyone in anything, but it sounds like a plan.”
Trixie got out of the car and, struggling with the heavy load of her new textbooks, she jogged to the side entrance. She turned and waved before disappearing inside.
“No time to talk!” She called out to her mother as she hurried through the kitchen. “I’ll be down in time to help with dinner!”
Trixie decided to use the first day of classes as an excuse to write Dan. She planned to congratulate him on his graduation and apologize for not being there. While she wasn’t ready to confess her feelings to him, especially in a letter, she wanted to provide an opportunity to do so when he came home for leave in November.
She sat at the desk in her bedroom and looked at the calendar. November 13 was circled in red. Eight weeks.
Honey opened the florist’s box and smiled when she saw the bouquet of white tulips, remembering that Saturday afternoon almost six months earlier when she and Chip had decided to eat lunch in Morningside Park. The brisk wind and temperature had reminded them that it wasn’t quite spring, but a huge bed of multi-colored tulips gave them hope of warmer days ahead. Among the vibrant rainbow of colors, there’d been one single white tulip.
Checking first to make sure there was no one around to enforce the posted signs warning not to pick the flowers, Chip had climbed over the wrought iron fence, plucked it and quickly climbed back over. He bowed as he gave the pure white bloom to her and then pulled her into his arms. She had never been happier than she was at that moment, amazed that she could love someone as much as she had that day.
Clutching this bouquet of flowers to her chest, she realized she still loved him.
But could she forgive him?
As Honey continued to hold the bouquet, she remembered the prior evening. She had been in the library, bent over a large art book, when he’d surprised her. Still unsure of what she might chose as a major, she had taken her mother’s suggestion to try an Art History class. She welcomed the opportunity to study fine art, even though she couldn’t see herself majoring in the subject.
She glanced at her notes from class and looked back at the print of Giorgione’s Reclining Venus when someone pulled out the chair next to hers and sat down.
“Don’t move. Don’t say a thing. I’ve been trying for almost three months to talk to you and you’re going to hear what I have to say.”
Honey quickly glanced up at the young man with a full dark beard and hair falling almost to his shoulders. She barely recognized him. “Go away, Chip. And get a haircut.” Honey stared back down at the reclining nude on the page, remembering the emaciated redhead spread across the bed in a similar pose. She wrote “1510” in her notebook.
“I’m not going away until you let me speak.”
And he spoke. He rambled on and on, admitting that he had committed an unforgivable act. He didn’t deserve her. The woman in San Francisco had been a pick-up and he’d never seen her before that night or since. He didn’t want the redhead or anyone else. He had no explanation or excuse for being with her.
And there had been o one else since that night. He admitted that he’d been far too busy the remainder of the summer to chase after women, but even if he’d had the time, all he wanted was Honey.
Honey listened, never looking up. She wanted to believe him. She wanted the happiness they’d once had. But she no longer trusted him, and she wasn’t sure if she could ever trust him again.
“Please, Honey, look at me.”
Honey continued to stare down at the nude.
“Ohmigod, Honey. I love you. I never thought anyone as kind and loving and beautiful would ever want me. But you did. And I destroyed it. I only care about two things in life, Honey. I want to change things, to create a better society; and I want to do it with you.”
Honey looked up at him. “I trusted you and you…I thought I would die. I really did! It hurt so much. ” Tears were falling down her cheeks. “It was more than hurt. It was…there isn’t a word. ”
“I betrayed your trust. I know that.”
“I, I thought I was in love.”
“I know I was. At least I know that now. I love you. I always will.”
Honey looked back down at the book. “I can’t promise anything, but if you promise to take it slowly, very slowly, we might try.”
“I know I have to prove myself to you, but I can’t unless you give me a chance.”
Honey shut the large tome and stood up. “Let’s get some coffee.”
They sat in a small restaurant until it closed; Chip pleading for her to forgive him, and Honey wanting to. When he left her at the door to her dormitory, she had agreed to let him back into her life, in not her heart. Chip had accepted the arrangement. Or so he said.
But he had remembered the day in the park. And the white tulip. And despite her determination not to let it happen, Honey had allowed Chip back into her heart.
Saturday October 21, 196
Live from our newsroom in New York, it’s Walter Cronkite with the news...with Bernard Kalb reporting from Saigon...and Dan Rather in Washington, DC.
Good evening. Walt Disney’s 19th full-length animated feature, The Jungle Book, was the
leader in box-offices over the weekend. Tens of thousands of Vietnam War
protesters marched on Washington, DC. The peaceful demonstrations included Allen Ginsberg’s symbolic attempts to levitate the Pentagon.
Honey sat next to her roommate on the bus, having just finished singing another protest song with the other riders. “Can you believe this, Janie? We’re going to our first real protest march. When Tom Hayden and Rennie Davis were on campus last week, they said there should be at least 100,000 people there. I am so glad we’re going.”
“I don’t know, Honey.” Janie squirmed in the seat beside her, not sharing Honey’s enthusiasm. “We could have stayed in New York and marched on campus without having to get on some bus at 3:30 in the morning. And who knows when we’ll get back. I really wish I hadn’t let you talk me into this.”
“But the entire leadership of the MOBE will be there! Students are coming from all over the country. And…maybe, just maybe, President Johnson will listen to us if we march on DC. Who’s listening when there are just a few hundred of us in New York?” Honey was getting almost as impassioned as Chip could be when he talked about the anti-war movement.
“Hey.” Honey scooted over to let her boyfriend sit next to them. He placed his arm around her. “Did you get enough to eat at the Maryland House?” He didn’t wait for Honey to respond. “We should be in DC in less than an hour. We’re assembling in Potomac Park—that’s by the Lincoln Memorial—and after some speeches and stuff, we’ll be marching across the river to the Pentagon. Someone said they have a couple thousand armed Military Police waiting for us there, lined up shoulder to shoulder, and the Capital Park Police have called in back up from as far away as Philadelphia.”
“MP’s?” The fear in Honey’s voice was obvious.
“Nothing will happen, Honey. No one will get hurt.” He pulled her close to try to reassure her. “This will be peaceful. It HAS to be a peaceful march. Why do you think they call it flower power? Don’t forget to carry flowers. They’ll be handing out flowers to everyone when we get off the bus. It’s to emphasize the theme of peace and love in contrast to the killing and violence of the military in Vietnam.” He kissed her cheek. “I promise you that I will never take you someplace where you might get hurt.”
He stood up and walked to the front of the bus where the other leaders from Columbia were sitting.
“Do you think he’s right?” Jane asked as he walked away. “There will be armed soldiers there?”
“I think so. I mean you’d think they would always be guarding the Pentagon. And it makes sense that they’d have extra guards today. I also think Chip was honest when he promised no one will get hurt.”
Dan completed his four weeks of Basic Infantry Training without any fanfare. It had been significantly easier than boot camp, with weekend liberty and troop leaders that actually treated them as though they were human. He pulled his requisite guard duty, learned how to properly throw a grenade, and how to handle a multitude of other deadly weapons. He’d earned a week of leave once he completed ITR, but instead opted for twenty-four hours before entering Jungle Warfare School at Camp Lejeune.
Dan had no difficulty turning down the opportunity for Scout Sniper School. While passing up a potential promotion and selection for one of the hardest schools in the Marine Corps was inconceivable to most Marines, Dan couldn’t get past the idea that he would graduate a skillfully trained killer and nothing more. All military training included how to kill, but his training focused just as much on survival as it did hunting down and killing the enemy. Turning down the opportunity had been a no-brainer for Dan.
As he had expected, when he turned down the opportunity, he was immediately put on a one-way track to Vietnam. Jungle Warfare School was designed to replicate what they would experience in Southeast Asia. They raided mock villages, hiked along trails that had been booby-trapped, waded through swamps and went days without sleep. Dan found that he could survive on adrenaline and C-rations and, after the first week, almost came to appreciate the ripe sweaty and musty odor of himself and the others in his unit.
He had just returned from a pre-dawn patrol, when two of the other Marines began arguing. At first he ignored it, but it gradually became louder and more heated.
“They should all be shot. Just mow them down. A couple M60’s and I’d take care of all those dirty hippies.”
“They aren’t as dirty as we are.”
“Those cowards think they’re making some kind of statement by growing their hair long and not taking baths? This is honest, hard-earned filth. We’ve earned this dirt. “
“Yeah! They can eat my dirt!”
Dan chuckled to himself. “Eat your dirt? Damn hippies. They can eat my shit.” He got up and walked away as the others laughed aloud.
Brian struggled with a heavy medical textbook, spiral notebook, lunch bag and steaming Styrofoam cup of coffee. Time spent outside had become a rarity and regular exercise was non-existent since he entered medical school, but when he heard that it might reach 70 degrees that afternoon he decided to take his lunch and reading outdoors. After a quick stop in the lab, he’d found the perfect sunny spot in Morningside Park, but chanting from the near-by protestors made it impossible to concentrate, so he was now trying to find a place that was sunny and quiet.
He had just settled on a bench and was nibbling at his second peanut butter sandwich while reading, when he was disturbed by music playing directly behind him. He twisted around to see a young woman sitting on another bench, back to back with him, bent over a cello and totally focused on her playing. Her head bent and swayed slightly with the music.
Totally unschooled in classical music, Brian forgot his textbooks and watched and listened in fascination. The music was fast and light, but there was a strong dark undercurrent. He’d never heard music like this and was surprised by how much he enjoyed it. And the beautiful young woman making the music was mesmerizing, too.
She stopped and sat up, brushing her hair back from her face. “Crap,” she mumbled. “Crap, crap, crap.”
“No, it wasn’t. It was…What was it?” Brian smiled when she turned and faced him. “I’ve never heard anything so…but I don’t know much about music. What was it?”
“It’s not what. It’s who. And that was supposed to be Shostakovich, but I totally screwed it up.”
“Shostakovich? Is he Russian?” Brian knew enough about classical music to know there were several great Russian composers, but that was about all.
“Dmitri Shostakovich,” she corrected. “It’s his Cello Concerto No. 1 in E Flat Major, Opus 107.” She recited without turning around. “Other than some works by Bach, it may be the best piece ever written for cello. Shostakovich composed it in 1959 for his friend Mstislav Rostropovich, who committed it to memory in four days. I’ve been working on it for weeks. And I still stink.”
She placed the bow on the strings.
“It sounded perfect to me.” Brian offered.
“And you just said you don’t know much about…” She snapped around to face him, but seeing the handsome young man smiling so broadly, she was compelled to smile, too.
“I’m sorry. It’s just that I have to…I have a recital, and I just can’t get this right. I’m…It’s all crap. I’m sure it sounds fine to an untrained ear, but…”
“When is it? Your recital.”
“December 8. It’s…it’s the last hurdle before I get my degree and, well, there will be people there from all the major orchestras and conservatories and…”
“It’s important.” Brian stood and walked around the two back-to-back benches. “Brian Belden.” He offered his hand.
“Are you a doctor?” She looked up at him and smiled. “You look like a doctor.”
“Quick to make assumptions, aren’t you?”
“Your hair’s too short for you to be in one of the humanities and it’s too long for you to be a Math wonk. I’d guess one of the sciences, but that smile rules out almost any of the sciences except medicine. That looks like some kind of medical textbook you were reading, and you look like a doctor.” She patted the bench beside her. “Go ahead and sit down. I know you’re waiting for me to ask.”
“You seem pretty sure of yourself. I am a medical student. Columbia Med. And you?”
“Juilliard. I spent two years in their Pre-College program while I was at the School of the Performing Arts here in the City. I’m in my last semester of study for my MM, Master of Music. From here, it’s go professional or continue with my doctorate. My father wants me to stay at Juilliard, but I’m ready to spread my wings. I’m thinking London or Paris; maybe Chicago as my fallback. But Daddy thinks I’m too young to…”
“To young? How old are you?”
“I’m one of those geeks who skipped grades in school, graduating high school at fifteen and getting my bachelor’s at nineteen.”
“So you’re twenty-one?”
“Not until December.”
“Well, I’ll have you know that I’m one of those geeks who skipped grades, too. I graduated high school at sixteen. I’m second year med, and I’ll be twenty-two…” Brian laughed. He’d forgotten that tomorrow was his birthday.”
“So I guess I’m smarter?” The young woman laughed.
“You’re definitely prettier.” Brian blushed as he spoke the words. Was he really flirting with this talented cellist? “I guess I should let you continue…you do play beautifully. Mistakes and all.” He stood up and started to walk away.
“Terri. My name is Terri White. 555-1776. Can you remember that? I’d really like you to call me.”
“555-1776? 1776? You’re kidding! I definitely won’t forget that.” Brian took one step and stopped. “Terri?” He waited while she looked up. “I’m going to sit right there behind you and try to concentrate on my studies, but I doubt I’ll accomplish anything. When you’re ready to call it a day, just tap me on the shoulder. Tomorrow is my birthday and I feel like celebrating with a beautiful woman tonight.”
Terri pretended to look around. “Beautiful?” She pointed to herself with her bow. “Moi?”
Brian nodded and she laughed. “Sounds like a plan.”
Diana headed up the stairs to Mart’s third floor apartment, but hesitated at the second floor landing when she heard the loud arguing from above. She continued slowly, listening to the young men debating the war in Vietnam.
When she came out of the stairwell and headed up the hallway she could see that the door to the apartment was standing open and several students who lived in the building were crammed into the small living room, watching the news reports of the anti war march in Washington. Most of the young men were arguing in support of the marchers, but several were arguing that they were just cowards who didn’t want to go to Vietnam.
Diana was surprised to see her usually verbose boyfriend sitting on the sofa, not saying a word.
He saw her standing in the doorway and beckoned. She went in and sat beside him. “Sorry,” he started to say.
“No, don’t apologize,” she interrupted. “This is kind of interesting. I was listening to the news coverage on the radio while I was driving over. I think Honey is there.”
“Honey’s in Washington?”
“Yes, I spoke to her just the other day and I’m pretty sure that’s where she said she was going. With Chip and some kind of mob?”
“MOBE,” Mart corrected. “National Mobilization to End the War in Vietnam.”
Di shrugged her shoulders as she turned to watch the television, clearly upset.
“It’s an easy mistake, Di. Mob, MOBE. And that really is a mob of people.”
“I don’t follow all this. I don’t want to. It’s... I get so upset when I think about it. On the radio they said there were over 100,000 protestors in DC and thousands of others protesting all over the country. They talk about it being a revolution. Can you imagine?” She scooted close to him and leaned her head on his shoulder.
The two sat and listened to the arguing in the apartment and tried to follow what the reporter on television was saying.
Eventually everyone left except for Di, Mart and one of Mart’s roommates, Lennie.
“We should have gone,” Lennie said as he sat down in the chair across form Mart and Di. “I’m going to the next one.
“Do you think there will be more?” Diana’s voice quivered.
“I’m certain,” Lennie replied. “It’s the only way they’re going to get Johnson and all those generals to listen. As long as they are peaceful, how can you not support them?”
“I don’t know. I trust the president,” Di offered meekly. “I support my country and my president and I think he knows what’s good for us far better than a bunch of college students. And it’s better to be fighting them in Vietnam than in California.”
“Who are they, Diana?” Lennie could barely disguise his disdain.”
“I don’t know. The Commies. My father said that if Vietnam falls, next will be Indonesia and Malaysia and the Philippines, even Hawaii.”
“Ah...the so-called Domino Theory! Your father? What makes him an expert?” Lennie was laughing now.
“My father is a very intelligent man. He…”
“Don’t you know about the Military-Industrial Complex, Di? Eisenhower himself warned us about it in his farewell address. The President, Commander in Chief and retired five-star General predicted this. The war in Vietnam is a sham. It’s just so the Admirals and Generals can play their war games and the big industrial fat cats can make billions instead of millions.
“Mart told me about your father. He’s made a lot of money in the stock market. Do you know where that money was invested? Maybe Grumman, or Martin Marietta, or Dow Chemicals? Did Daddy make his fortune on Napalm, Di?
“That’s enough, Lennie.” Mart jumped up from the sofa when he saw that Diana was starting to tear up. “There are legitimate arguments for both sides and...Di doesn’t know how her father made his money or want any of it!”
“I’m sorry,” Lennie immediately offered. “I know that, Di and I didn’t mean to upset you. But you have to know that this war is senseless and Mart and I both are only buying time while we’re here in school and...”
“I’m hungry.” Mart grabbed his coat from the back of a chair. “How about some pizza, Di?” He pulled Diana up and helped her with her jacket. “We’ll see you later.” He called to Lennie as he led her out the door.”
Trixie sat in front of the radio, both elbows resting on the desk top, listening to the chatter between Spider Webster and two other patrolmen. Apparently there were protestors in front of City Hall and they were unsure how to handle them.
“This is unit 611.”
“Go ahead, 611.” Trixie sat up straight.
“I’m 10-23 with units 613 and 610 and we’ve got about two dozen hippies marching around with signs. I’m not sure if they are in violation of anything or not. I’ve tried to radio 601, but he appears to be 10-7. Can you 10-21 his home?”
“Sure, 611. Do you have a 10-15 in progress?”
“No. The hippies are totally silent, just walking in circles, but a crowd is watching them and I feel a 10-15 brewing.”
“I’ll track down 601. Is there anyone else I should try?”
“Let’s let 601 decide that.”
“10-4.”
Trixie flipped a few buttons and dialed an already-familiar number. It rang two times before the Chief answered.
“Chief Davis.”
“This is Belden, Chief. Sorry to bother you at home, but they have a 10-15 ready to erupt down at City Hall. Correct that. Webster estimates there to be about two dozen protestors It sounds like they are peaceful, but they are drawing a crowd of spectators. 610, 611 and 613 are there, but aren’t sure how to proceed.”
“Are they a bunch of hippies?”
“I can’t say, sir.”
“Well, I never issued a permit. They need to have a parade permit.”
Trixie waited for the Chief to continue.
“Damn hippies. I bet this is related to those dirty cowards down in DC. Tell them I’m on my way. I should be there within ten minutes or less.” The phone disconnected.
Trixie hit another button. “611? Unit 611?”
“This is 611. Go ahead.”
“I’ve been in touch with Unit 601 and he’s 10-76. ETA ten minutes or less.”
“10-69. Thanks.”
Trixie flipped off the button and leaned forward again, listening to the action in front of City Hall. “Oh, what a view Hoppy must have,” she thought. “A peace march in little Sleepyside.”
Saturday November 11, 1967 Veteran’s Day
Live from our newsroom in New York, it’s Walter Cronkite with the
news...with Bernard Kalb reporting from Saigon…and Dan Rather in Washington, DC.
Good evening. In a propaganda ceremony in Phnom Penh, Cambodia, three United States Prisoners of War were released by the Viet Cong and turned over to
activist Tom Hayden. At home, Veteran’s Day was celebrated with parades and
ceremonies across the country, including the placing of a wreath at the Tomb of
the Unknown Soldier by Vice President Hubert Humphrey.
Jim carried his tray across the mess hall and sat down at a half-filled table. This was his second weekend of drill with his new Guard unit in Somerville and he still hadn’t connected with any of the other Guardsmen. There were a sizable number of students from the Boston area who drilled with him, so he felt confident he would fit in quickly. “Jim Frayne.” He offered his hand to the man sitting down beside him.
The other young man ignored his gesture and continued to eat. “You one of those college boys?”
“Mmm?” Jim’s mouth was full.
“Almost every month we get a few more of you college boys whose daddy bought their way out of the regular army. I was wondering if you were one of those.”
Jim dropped his fork on the tray and turned to the other man. “What exactly are you insinuating?” His face was red.
“Hey!” The other man held up both hands, palms facing Jim. “I didn’t mean anything. But we’re seeing more and more in this unit who are using the Guard so they can avoid the draft. Most are okay, but there are some...I don’t care how you got here, just that everyone pull their weight. That’s all I care about.”
Jim forced his temper under control. “I volunteered for the Guard while I was still an undergrad and had my deferment. I’m still in school and still in the Guard. I’m not dodging anything.”
“Fine. Fine. The Sergeant is looking at you, so you better pretend you’re enjoying that SOS.”
Brian paused on the stair landing to catch his breath, cursing himself for his lack of exercise. If he had the good fortune to be invited back to Terri’s apartment, he’d definitely have to work on getting back in shape.
Since meeting Terri in the park four weeks earlier, they had talked on the phone at least once a day and saw each other as often as possible. Terri was just as dedicated to her studies as Brian, so most of their contact was over the phone, but they’d still managed a few real “dates.”
Each time they went out, Terri had met Brian at the entrance to her apartment building and offered no more than a chaste kiss on the stoop when they’d returned. This invitation for dinner was Brian’s first visit to her apartment. Knowing that she lived alone, Brian was hoping for an evening as special as her smile had suggested when she invited him. He had made sure to stop and get wine on his way. Terri loved wine.
Of course, she lived on the twelfth floor of the building and the elevator was out of order.
Of course, Brian was so nervous and excited he had begun sweating before he even left the apartment he shared with two other medical students.
Of course, both of those medical student roommates were home and teased him about his “hot” date until he sweated even more.
Of course, he’d worn a brand-new sweater on a day with record-breaking high temperatures.
Of course, he couldn’t afford cab fare and had to walk over.
Of course, in his anticipation of a romantic evening with a lovely young woman, he’d practically jogged the entire way.
Of course, he now was standing in the stairwell, sweating and panting, and hoping he didn’t have cardiac arrest before he made it to her apartment.
“Yes, this must be love,” he muttered as he continued up the stairs.
Dan got off the train and glanced at his watch. It was going on two in the morning and there wasn’t a cab in sight. He knew his uncle would be there in an instant if he called, but Regan wasn’t expecting him until the next day and Dan didn’t want to wake him if he didn’t need to.
He hefted the large duffle bag over his shoulder and headed down the stairs, across the vacant parking lot and up the hill towards Main Street, thinking that once he got into town, he might be able to hitch a ride. Even at this hour, his uniform should convince someone to take pity on him.
Several cars went by without even glancing at him. When he got to the outskirts of town and was preparing to head up the incline towards Glen Road, he heard a car approaching. He straightened his left arm and stuck out his thumb without turning around.
“Hey, Marine? Did you know it’s illegal to hitchhike within the town limits?”
Dan stopped and turned around. He laughed when he recognized the driver of the black and white squad car. “Spider! Spider Webster! You are a sight! Where can a poor grunt like me get a ride home?”
Spider got out of the car and opened the back door. “Toss your gear in. I’m just getting off duty.”
Dan didn’t exactly toss the heavy bag, but he did place in the back seat and then got into the passenger side of the car.
“So how’s it going? I heard about how well you did in Basic. Honor Man! I didn’t even come close when I was at Parris Island. I guess you’re finished with Infantry now and...”
“Yeah. From here I...I’m heading out to Camp Pendleton.”
“Beautiful sunny California. I spent some time there, too.”
“How long were you in the Corps?” Dan had known that Spider had served in the Marine Corps, but didn’t know many details.
“Slightly less than four years. I dropped out of school and went in at seventeen. Got my GED while I was in. I would have stayed…probably made a career of it, if my parents...I had to come home to take care of Tad.”
Dan knew that Spider’s parents died in an automobile accident and he’d raised his younger brother for almost a decade, but he wasn’t aware that Spider had been in the Marines when the accident occurred.
“I didn’t know...I mean I knew you’ve been raising Tad, but...”
“So how long are you home?” Spider quickly changed the subject.
The two young men shared stories about Boot Camp and the Marine Corps while Spider drove through town and into the Police Station parking lot.
Dan sat up when he recognized the one car in the back of the lot. “I really can’t go in. I...I haven’t been home yet and I...”
“Belden is working dispatch. I usually come by and help her lock up. Then I follow her home.” Spider backed the car into the space next to Brian’s jalopy.
“Trixie must love that.”
“Oh, she doesn’t know I follow her home, but I don’t trust that piece of crap she drives. I just make sure she doesn’t break down on the way.”
“I’d probably do the same thing.”
“I found out she was taking the cross-county bus to school, so I made sure that lazy brother of mine gets up every morning to take her. You wouldn’t believe how a few hours every day with her has changed him. His grades are improving and...”
“They’re riding together every day?”
Dan followed Spider over to the main entrance of the police building and inside. He watched as Spider walked through the reception area and to the switchboard in the rear. He stared in awe as Trixie sat with headphones on, focused on whatever she was hearing through them. She glanced up at Spider, nodded and then turned her attention back to her work.
She is something, he thought as he watched. She’s so focused, so confident and, damn...she’s so beautiful. He waited for her to see him, praying for her to not remember the hurt he’d caused her when he’d left in July. The letter she had sent shortly after his graduation from boot camp said she wanted to make things right when he came home, but she wasn’t going to try to explain anything until then.
But then is now.
He knew all he deserved was a silent glare. He’d treated her terribly the last night before he left for Boot Camp and he was certain his one letter to her hadn’t explained anything. But he felt unworthy of her then and he still did. His soul was as dark and as dirty as his body during maneuvers. High school honors, college Dean’s List, and Outstanding Man hadn’t changed anything. Dan stared down at his boots, realizing all he could be was a hopeless SOB who’s hardly there; the friend she might need, but who can’t be trusted; at least not with her heart.
He continued to watch as Trixie fiddled with the radio controls, took off her headset and made some notes, still unaware of his presence. Then Spider said something and she turned towards him. The intense but tired look on her face changed to one of confusion and then recognition. She knocked the chair over as she jumped up and came running through the office.
“I can’t...I can’t...I didn’t...no one told me you were coming home so soon. I thought Regan said something about...” She wrapped her arms around him.
“I barely recognize you. You’re...” She stepped back, hands on Dan’s shoulders.
“Give me your keys, Trixie, and I’ll put Dan’s gear in your car, while you two catch up,” Spider offered. Trixie pointed to where her purse was hanging and hugged Dan again, forgetting all her resolve to be totally cool when he returned.
Chip Lloyd shut the apartment door carefully and put on the safety chain. He pulled off his shoes and walked softly across the living room, trying not to disturb Honey.
“Chip?” His plan had failed.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to wake you.” Chip walked over to the bedroom door. “I have to get a shower. Go back to...”
“What time is it?”
“Shortly after two.”
“I’m awake. Tell me all about it.”
“Did you finish your paper?” Honey nodded. “Because we’re planning a debriefing tomorrow afternoon. You missed the best demonstration, yet, but I don’t want you to miss any more.” He grabbed Honey’s hand. “The next demonstration is going to be really big! We’re making a change. I’m absolutely certain of that, Honey. And I want us to do it together.”
Honey smiled. “Make that shower quick, because there are other things I want to do, first.”
Chip stood up and pulled his shirt over his head.
“I love you, Honey Wheeler.”
“I barely recognized him. There’s the hair, of course. It’s shorter than Mart’s! But he’s tan and he’s filled out...doesn’t look anything like that scrawny kid who got on the school bus five years ago.” The first thing Trixie did when she got up Sunday morning was to call Honey and let her know that Dan was home. She planned to call all the other Bob-Whites, too. While they had known he would get leave when he completed his training in North Carolina, he had surprised them by arriving a few days early...
“Are we going to have an official BWG get-together while he’s home?”
“I don’t know. I’m afraid to try after that last disaster. But your family is coming out for Thanksgiving, aren’t they?”
“Of course. Mother and Daddy wouldn’t miss. Thanksgiving in Sleepyside. I’ll be there, too, if not before. Chip is taking me to some meeting today and I think I’ll know better what my schedule is like after that. Fortunately, I finished that big research paper I had yesterday.”
“Dan and Regan are coming over later for Sunday dinner, so I’ll find out more about Dan’s schedule then. I was just too surprised and tired to think to ask him anything last night.”
“Does he go back to North Carolina after his leave?” Like everyone else, Honey knew that there was a good change he’d be going to Vietnam, but she hoped it might be different for Dan.
“He didn’t say and I didn’t think to ask. Oh Honey, you don’t think?”
“Let me know as soon as you find out. Chip is calling me. I need to go.” Honey hung up the phone before Trixie could say anything more. Trixie continued to sit cross-legged on the upstairs hallway floor for some time after hanging up. “Please, please, not Vietnam,” she prayed.
“Promise me, Uncle Bill.” It was a beautiful, unseasonably warm and sunny day, so Dan had convinced his uncle to walk with him to Crabapple Farm. He had barely roused Regan when he finally arrived at his uncle’s apartment early that morning and he had gone directly to bed. Regan had already gone down to the stables when Dan finally got up. This was their first opportunity to talk.
“What if they ask?”
“Mrs. B won’t. She’s entirely too polite. I doubt Mr. B will, either. I’ll figure out a way to get around Bobby. But Trixie...I want to tell her first. In private.”
“Private?” Bill Regan stopped, turned and looked at his nephew. “Is there something more I should know?”
“Yeah. I mean, no. She really tried hard to support me when I first enlisted. She...I just need to tell her first.”
The two emerged from the woods to see Trixie and Bobby busy on the service porch. Bobby saw them first and came running.
“Wow, oh wow! Look at you Dan! Wow! Flex your muscles. I heard you get really big biceps in Boot Camp. And Trixie said...”
“Bobby!” Trixie called out from the porch steps. “Let them get in the house.”
Dan leaned down and flexed his right arm. “I built much more muscle splitting wood for Mr. Maypenny and working for my uncle in the stables than I did in nine weeks of Boot Camp. You can do the same thing helping your mom and dad.”
Bobby squeezed his arm once, turned and headed back towards the house. “Moms has a huge ham in the oven and Trixie made scalloped potatoes.” Apparently the idea of building muscles by doing chores wasn’t as exciting as Boot Camp.
Just as Bobby said, Trixie had helped her mother prepare a ham, scalloped potatoes, baked apples and brussel sprouts.
Regan mentioned that Dan was especially looking forward to Mrs. Belden’s cooking, since he’d had nothing but mess hall food and C-rations for months. Dan corrected him, saying he did get some leave at ITR and he was sure to eat out whenever he did. Mrs. Belden still encouraged Dan to take second and third servings. Bobby got a huge laugh from all of them when he commented that it was the first time he’d ever seen anyone eat more than Mart.
Dan took that as a cue to ask Trixie what time she had to go to work.
Looking at her watch, Trixie jumped up from the table. “I need to leave in a few minutes. I work four to twelve. May I be excused, Moms?” she called out as she took off towards the stairs.
“If it’s okay, I’ll take her and then go pick up her up at twelve.” Dan offered. “We’d have to take Brian’s car now. I’ll use my own car at midnight. That way she’s not...”
Mr. Belden quickly agreed and then nodded towards Bobby. Apparently he knew that Spider followed her home most nights and he didn’t want Bobby to know and leak it to Trixie.
“I slept in, so I’ll be up late again tonight. And I’d like to check out what she does at work.” Dan took the cue and tried to rationalize his offer.
Trixie came back into the dining room. “I’m sorry to eat and run, but...”
Dan stood up. “I thought I’d ride with you.”
At first Trixie looked confused, but she then nodded agreement. “I need to go now.”
Dan thanked her parents for dinner and followed her out the door.
“You’re up to something, Mangan.” Trixie said once they were in the car and headed towards town. “Is this about…I really am sorry that I missed graduation and...”
“That’s okay, Trix. I understand why you didn’t come down. You get off at midnight?” He glanced over at her.
She shrugged.
“I wanted to talk with you before you left for work, but lost track of time.”
“It was those second and third and fourth helpings.”
Dan laughed. “I only had thirds. Your mom is a terrific cook and...”
“I don’t really have any time to talk now. I’m really cutting it close.” Trixie looked at her wrist watch.
“But we do need to talk. Alone.”
Trixie looked at him, obviously concerned.
“Is...” Her voice quivered. “Is something...It’s serious, isn’t it?”
“I don’t know if I’d call it serious.” Dan tried to sound nonchalant. “I just made such a mess when I left in July, I want...I need to make things right with you...I mean with us. Before.” He stopped, not wanting to share too much until the time was right.
“Before?”
“I’m only home for three weeks, Trix. I have a lot to do. You’re busy with work and school. Next week is Thanksgiving. And you did say in your letter that you want to talk.”
“I get a meal break. Thirty minutes.”
“When? What time?” Dan slowed down and turned into the police station parking lot. “Could we meet then?” He pulled up to the employee entrance.
“It varies. Wait right here and I’ll see who’ll be covering for me.” Trixie jumped out of the car and ran into the building.
Dan sat tapping the steering wheel, wishing the old jalopy had a radio—anything—to distract him from his worries. He sat up straight when Trixie came back out and jogged up to the car window.
“Molinson’s on duty tonight. He said he’ll relieve me at 7:30. He’s anxious to talk with you, so expect to come in afterward.”
Dan smiled. “Sure, Trix. I look forward to that.” He paused. “And dinner with you. Wimpy’s okay?”
Trixie shook her head. “Not after that big meal we just ate. And...” She hesitated.
“Yeah. Things didn’t go too well the last time we met at Wimpy’s.
“Have you ever been to McDonald’s? The drive-in that just opened on the bypass? You have to eat in the car, but their burgers are only fifteen cents.”
“Sounds good. I’ll be waiting out here at 7:30.” Dan watched as Trixie went back inside the building. “Eating in the car might not be a bad idea,” he thought. “It’ll give us some privacy when I share my news.”
Dan was waiting in his Plymouth when Trixie came out of the police station promptly at 7:30. Neither spoke as he drove through town and out to the new drive-in, while they waited in line to give their orders, nor while they sat in the car eating.
Dan had finished off both his burgers, but Trixie was still nibbling at hers when he handed her an envelope.
“What’s this?” Trixie put her sandwich down and took it. She pulled several papers out. “This...this is the title to your car.”
“It’s yours. We need to take it to a Notary, but I’m selling it to you for one dollar. I’d give it to you outright but then you’d have to pay taxes on its full value. This way you’ll only pay a few pennies tax. Your dad actually suggested that.” He chuckled. Dan had discussed the idea of giving Trixie his car after he’d driven back to Crabapple Farm in Brian’s jalopy. While his car was several years old, it was a decade newer than Brian’s and far more reliable. “Although you might think it’s not worth much more than one dollar.”
“Why? What will...” Trixie’s hands were shaking so she could barely hold the papers. “I don’t...I don’t understand.”
“I’m not going to be needing it. I know it’s nothing fancy but it’s in excellent condition and, much more reliable than Brian’s Nash. And, this way you aren’t relying on a loser like Tad to get back and forth to school. You don’t need to be hanging around with…”
“You’re jealous?” Trixie smiled at the thought. “Are you jealous? You should know that I can take care of myself with Tad Webster.”
“It’s more than that. He’s totally unreliable and Brian’s Nash isn’t much better. And while this car isn’t much, it’s reliable. I know you can handle a lech like Tad and you’d know what to do if you broke down at two in the morning, but...it’s only a matter of time before Brian’s jalopy dies.”
“What will you use? When you’re home? On leave?” Trixie choked on the words.
“I told Uncle Bill this morning and I walked up to Maypenny’s after I dropped you off to tell him. But you’re the first to know other than them.”
“Know what?”
Dan stared out the window for some time, watching a tall skinny teen inside the restaurant take a basket of fries out of the deep fryer, shake off the excess oil and turn it upside down into another basket. He turned back to Trixie when the boy started scooping the potatoes into small paper holders.
“Dan, what did you tell them?”
“I got my orders before I left North Carolina. I fly out on the fourth to California. Camp Pendleton. From there it’s Okinawa.”
Dan paused, waiting for Trixie’s reaction, but she was totally still. Except for her hands. Her hands were shaking uncontrollably.
“Okinawa?” She finally asked. “That’s good isn’t it? Okinawa. That’s better than...”
“It’s the stopping place for ‘Nam, Trixie.” He looked over at her, wishing he hadn’t said the words, but knowing he had no choice. “I should be there by February.”
Dan watched as the trembling in her hands moved to her entire body. She began shaking her head back and forth, mumbling, “No. No. Oh God, please no. No!”
Dan reached to pull her to him but she slapped his hand away. “I think I’m going to be sick.” She opened the car door and got out. Dan quickly got out his side and ran around to her. Trixie had braced herself against the car with one hand and was bent over, holding her stomach with the other.
“I’m going to be okay, Trixie. Really.” He rubbed her back, trying to reassure himself as much as her, once she had emptied her stomach onto the parking lot. “The training...I’m ready. At least as ready as I can be. And I’ll be there thirteen months. That’s all. The sooner I go, the sooner I’ll...this is better than waiting.”
“I can’t...I can’t...” Trixie stopped. “No. No-no-no-no.” She looked up at him. “I know you’re smart and strong and trained and...and,,,guys come home from Vietnam every day. You will too. You will. I believe that. I have to believe that.”
“If you don’t...” She tried to smile through her tears. “I’ll...I’ll never forgive you, Daniel Mangan.”
Dan pulled her to him. They stood in the parking lot embracing, oblivious to the people pointing and smiling at what they thought must be young lovers.
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