As we continued our movement eastward, I overheard Anderson offhandedly ask, “Wonder if the LT’s a West Pointer?”
“Naw, Ivy League. You can bet on it,” Blair responded. “Only an Ivy Leaguer thinks on that plane.”
The log bird flew that night, bringing with it steak and, for the first time in what seemed a long time, a ration of beer and coke.
“How’d Two Six’s op go today, Six?” the Bull asked, passing me a beer.
“Just another fruitless walk in the rain, Top.”
He grinned, obviously having heard of O’Brien’s proposal for ridding ourselves of an unwanted five-hundred-pounder. “And how did our new lieutenant do?”
“Moseley? Super. He’s filling Slim’s boots without missing a step.
Couldn’t be happ…”
“No, damn it! You know who I mean, sir. Our camper. Lieutenant O’Brien.”
“Oh. Well, he’s coming along. Just takes time.” Smiling, I added,
“But, Top, in the meantime, I’m sure as hell glad he’s got Sergeant Naple as his number two.”
He laughed. “I copy that, Six.”
“Anything on the admin side tonight?” I asked, thinking of little else to say.
“Normal stuff. Pay complaint in Three Six. Letter of indebtedness in One Six… uh… Edgerton. Talked with him about it. Says his wife’s running up the bills in his name. Letter says if they don’t receive payment in ten days, they’re gonna serve a warrant on him. ‘Course, that worries the shit out of Edgerton. Says, ‘Well, serve me, Top! I’d be more than happy to go home and get this thing cleared up.” Anyway, I’ll have the XO get the standard ‘although the U.S. Army is not a collection agency, we will so on and so forth’ letter out for your signature. And Dejohn’s sister was killed in an auto accident. Got him out on the evening log bird.”
We talked a bit longer as the late afternoon faded to dusk. Then, getting to my feet, I said, “Think I’ll mosey over to Two Six’s part of the world, Top.”
He nodded understandingly.
Second Platoon had rigged themselves a three-poncho CP. One covered their position on a relatively flat plain about three feet above the ground. The other two, snapped to the first, extended downward and outward, their bottoms staked into Vietnam’s terra firma. Inside, O’Brien, Naple, and their RTO sat huddled around a single candle, which offered little heat but did give the appearance of warmth and dryness.
“Come on in, sir,” O’Brien said. “Got a fire in the fireplace.”
“Thanks,” I said, bending over and crawling inside. It appeared that he and Naple were sharing their CP, and the two of them knew I took a dim view of platoon leaders and platoon sergeants sharing the same defensive position. But I said nothing. O’Brien had been chastened enough for one day. Then, perhaps this wasn’t the case. Perhaps Naple was simply taking the time to talk to, to teach, his young lieutenant. No matter.
“Want a beer, sir?” Naple asked. “We got a couple the nondrinkers turned in.”
“No thanks. Had one.”
Turning to the platoon’s RTO, Naple asked, “Nadolski, you change your battery yet?”
“Naw, Sarge. Willie ain’t got ’em broke down.”
“Think he has now. You run along and see, okay?”
Specialist Nadolski looked at Sergeant Naple inquisitively for a moment and then, after looking at me and back to Naple, said, “Uh… yeah, probably does.” As he departed, Naple crawled out behind him, saying,
“Think I’ll go check the line, sir.”
“Well, how do you like the Nam, Dick?” I asked.
“It’s okay, sir. Of course, I still have a lot to learn.”
That’s true.
“Mean… uh… that was a pretty dumb idea I had today, wasn’t it?” he said.
“Not the brightest, Dick, but don’t worry about it. Shit, it’s a small thing and it’s in the past, okay?”
“Yeah… uh… yes, sir, but the men are all laughing about it behind my back. Don’t know what I was thinking of at the time.”
“Hey, Lieutenant, put it behind you. Tomorrow someone else will do something less than brilliant, and the company will be laughing at him.
Might very well be me.”
“Kind of doubt that, sir.”
“Well, you shouldn’t. Hell, we were all second lieutenants at one time, and we all made mistakes. And those that went on to make good first lieutenants—and captains and colonels and generals—were the ones who learned to put their mistakes behind them and get on with the business of soldiering.”
He flashed me an unconvincing smile, sighed, and said, “Well, yeah. Guess so.”
“Dick, you know what I was called when I was butter bar?”
He shook his head.
“‘Shape Charge.” Or Lieutenant ‘Shape Charge,’ depending on who was addressing me or talking about me. Want to know why?”
He nodded.
“Well, after I got out of OCS, I reported in to the Fifth Special Forces, which at the time was undergoing predeployment training, getting ready to come over here. And one block of this training concerned demolitions. Well, one day, after a brief description of the forty-pound shape charge—during which I was either napping, or not listening, or simply unable to grasp what was said—when the instructor asked if there were any questions, I, for reasons only God knows, raised my hand and asked how you held the charge when firing it.”
O’Brien looked at me in utter disbelief and then, brightening, said, “You’ve got to be kidding! Really?”
“Absolutely. And you can well imagine what I suffered for a while after asking that dumbest of dumb questions. Hell, your idea today pales in comparison! But as you can see, Dick, I survived that and other similar dumb things said and mistakes made. And you can, too. And you will. Tell you what an old major told me one time. Said, ‘Jim, you don’t have to be the brightest or best-educated officer to outshine those around you. All you got to do, before you go to sleep each night, is take a few minutes to think about what you did that day, starting from when you got up, and then plan what you’re gonna do the next, starting when you get up. Takes no more time than a good prayer and might well pay bigger dividends.’”
Smiling broadly, O’Brien said, “How do you hold a forty-pound shape when you fire it? Damn, sir!”
“Hey, Lieutenant O’Brien, gotta promise not to tell anybody about that, okay?”
“Of course not, sir!”
But of course he would. And that was okay. Hell, it’s not that unbelievable. Could’ve even happened. Probably did to someone, sometime.
Getting up to leave, I asked, “By the way, Dick, where’d you go to school?”
“Brown, sir. Why do you ask?”
“No reason. Just wondered…”
“Roger that, sir, and… uh… Thanks.”
“Me, too, Dick.” better blow the candle; it’s getting dark. Enjoyed the visit.”
“And how did you find Two Six?” the Bull asked when I returned to our piece of the perimeter.
“In high spirits, Top.”
“And the young lieutenant?”
“Surviving and doing fine with his new command. Still lessons to be learned, but it takes time.”
It would, but in the end O’Brien would do well. As was the case with Sweet Willie, the war would serve him well. He would be a better man for having been part of it. Twenty years later, damn few other graduates of Brown University could tell about their experiences in a land called Indochina.
As Charlie Company, and other companies of the battalion, and other battalions of the division, worked the street to Hue, severing the enemy’s supply lines to the city, the battle for the city raged on. By any account, it was the longest and nastiest of Tet’s many battles.