Most of the platoon had applied for exemption and been turned down. Many of them considered Nat was crazy to volunteer, and it took several weeks before they changed their minds about the boy from Cromwell. Long before the course had ended, Nat had become the platoon counsellor, letter writer, advisor and confidant. He even taught a couple of the recruits to read. He didn’t choose to tell his mother what they had taught him in return. Half-way through the course, Quamo made him up to squad leader.
At the end of the two-month stint, Nat came top in everything which involved spelling. He also surprised his fellow rookies by beating them all round the cross-country course and although he had never fired a weapon before basic training, he even out-shot the boys from Queens when it came to mastering the M60 machine gun and the M70 grenade launcher. They were more practised in smaller weapons.
It didn’t take eight weeks for Quamo to change his mind about Nat’s chances of making Officer Cadet School. Unlike most of the other ‘sadsacks’ who were destined for ‘Nam, he found that Nat was a born leader.
‘Mind you,’ Quamo warned Nat, ‘a butter bar second lieutenant is just as likely to have his ass blown off as a private soldier, because one thing’s for certain, the VC can’t tell the difference.’ Sergeant Quamo turned out to be right, because only two soldiers were selected to go to Fort Benning. The other was a college boy from third platoon named Dick Tyler.
For the first three weeks at Fort Benning, the main outdoor activity was alongside the black hats. The parachute instructors took their new recruits through their landing falls, first from a thirty-five-foot wall, and later from the dreaded three-hundred-foot tower. Of the two hundred soldiers who began the course, less than a hundred made it through to the next stage. Nat was among the final ten chosen to wear a white helmet during jump week. Fifteen jumps later, and it was his turn to have silver jump wings pinned to his chest.
When Nat returned home for a week’s furlough, his mother hardly recognized the child who had left her three months earlier. He had been replaced by a man, an inch taller and half a stone lighter, with a crew cut that made his father reminisce about his days in Italy.
After the short break, Nat returned to Fort Benning, pulled back on his glistening Corcoran jump boots, threw his barrack bag over his shoulder, and took the short walk from airborne to the other side of the road.
Here he began his training as an infantry officer. Although he rose just as early each morning, he now spent far more of his time in the classroom, studying military history, map reading, tactics and command strategy, along with seventy other would-be officers who were also preparing to be sent to Vietnam. The one statistic no one would talk about was that more than fifty per cent of them could expect to return in a body bag.
‘Joanna’s going to have to face a disciplinary enquiry,’ said Jimmy as he sat on the end of Fletcher’s bed. ‘Whereas it’s me who should be suffering the wrath of the ethics committee,’ he added.
Fletcher tried to calm his friend, but he had never seen him so incensed. ‘Why can’t they understand that it’s not a crime to fall in love?’
‘I think you’ll find that they are more worried about the consequences of it happening the other way round,’ said Fletcher.
‘What do you mean?’ asked Jimmy, looking up.
‘Simply that the administration is genuinely concerned about male teachers taking advantage of young impressionable female undergraduates.’
‘But can’t they tell when it’s genuine?’ asked Jimmy. ‘Anyone can see that I adore Joanna, and she feels the same way about me.’
‘And they might even have turned a blind eye in your case if you both hadn’t made it so public.’
‘I would have thought you of all people would have respected Joanna for her refusal to be disingenuous on the subject,’ said Jimmy.
‘I do,’ said Fletcher, ‘but she’s left the authorities with no option but to respond to that honesty, given the university regulations.’
‘Then it’s the regulations that need changing,’ said Jimmy. ‘Joanna believes as a teacher, you shouldn’t have to hide your true feelings. She wants to make sure that the next generation never have to face the same predicament.’
‘Jimmy, I’m not disagreeing with you, and knowing Joanna, she will have thought about those regulations carefully and also have a strong view on the relevance of rule 17b.’
‘Of course she does, but Joanna isn’t going to become engaged just to let the board off the hook.’
‘That’s some woman you asked if you could carry her books,’ said Fletcher.
‘Don’t remind me,’ Jimmy replied. ‘You know that they’re now cheering her at the beginning and end of every lecture she gives.’
‘So when does the ethics committee convene to make its decision?’
‘Next Wednesday at ten o’clock. It’s going to be a media field day. I just wish my father wasn’t coming up for re-election in the fall.’
‘I wouldn’t worry about your father,’ said Fletcher. ‘My bet is that he’ll have already found a way of turning the problem to his advantage.’
Nat had never expected to come into contact with his commanding officer, and wouldn’t have done so if his mother hadn’t parked her car in the colonel’s reserved space. When Nat’s father spotted the sign COMMANDANT, he suggested she should quickly reverse. Susan reversed a little too quickly, and collided with Colonel Tremlett’s jeep just as he swung in.
‘Oh, God,’ said Nat as he leapt out of the car.
‘I wouldn’t go that far,’ said Tremlett. ‘Colonel will do just fine.’
Nat leapt to attention and saluted as his father surreptitiously checked the commandant’s medals. ‘We must have served together,’ he said, staring at a red and green ribbon among the cluster on his chest. The colonel looked up from studying the dent in his fender. ‘I was with the Eightieth in Italy,’ Nat’s father explained.
‘I hope you manoeuvred those Shermans a damn sight better than you drive a car,’ said the colonel as the two men shook hands. Michael didn’t mention that it was his wife who was driving. Tremlett looked at Nat. ‘Cartwright, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, sir,’ said Nat, surprised that the commanding officer knew his name.
‘Your son looks as though he’s going to top his class when he graduates next week,’ Tremlett said, turning his attention back to Nat’s father. He paused, ‘I may have an assignment in mind for him,’ he added without explanation. ‘Report to my office at eight tomorrow morning, Cartwright.’ The colonel smiled at Nat’s mother, and shook hands once again with his father, before turning back to Nat. ‘And if I can see a dent in that fender when I leave tonight, Cartwright, you can forget your next furlough.’ The colonel winked at Nat’s mother as the boy sprang to attention and saluted again.
Nat spent the afternoon on his knees with a hammer and a pot of khaki paint.
The following morning, Nat arrived at the colonel’s office at seven forty-five, and was surprised to be ushered straight through to see the commandant. Tremlett pointed to a chair on the other side of his desk.
‘So you’ve stood up and been counted, Nat,’ were the colonel’s first words as he glanced down at his file. ‘What do you want to do next?’
Nat looked across at Colonel Tremlett, a man with five rows of ribbons on his chest. He’d seen action in Italy and Korea and had recently returned from a tour of duty in Vietnam. His nickname was the terrier, because he enjoyed getting so close to the enemy that he could bite their ankles. Nat responded to his question immediately. ‘I expect to be among those posted to Vietnam, sir.’