'I said, who are you calling an FNG?'
The man paused. 'You've been here before? I don't recognize you.'
I smiled. 'Sure I've been here before,' I replied. 'In my dreams.'
Fragging. Bagging. Klicks. Grunts. Gooks. Charlie. MIA. KIA. LZ. DMZ. FNG.
FNG. Someone who's just starting their first tour in Vietnam. A Fucking New Guy.
Where do I learn these things?
I saw 84 Charlie Mopic in 1989. I saw Platoon in 1986. My friend Tom said, 'Rich, you want to see Platoon ?' 'OK,' I said, and he grinned. 'Then you'd better find someone to go with.' He was always making jokes like that – it was as natural to him as breathing. We went to see it that night at the Swiss Cottage Odeon, screen one, 1986.
1991, standing in an airport lounge, looking for something to pass the hours over a long flight to Jakarta. 'Eric Lustbader?' suggested Sean, and I shook my head. I'd seen Michael Herr sending dispatches. The hours flew by.
Fucking New Guy? Yea, though I walk through the valley of death I will fear no evil, for I am the evilest motherfucker in the valley.
New to what?
We followed the man through the trees. Sometimes we crossed the stream from the pool as it meandered through the jungle, and sometimes we passed glades – one with a smouldering camp-fire and charred fish-heads strewn around it.
We didn't talk much as we walked. The only thing that the man would tell us was his name—Jed. The rest of our questions he waved aside. 'Simpler to deal with the talking at the camp,' he explained. 'We've got as many questions for you as you've got for us.'
At first glance the camp was close to how I'd imagined it might be. There was a large, dusty clearing surrounded by the rocket-ship trees and dotted with makeshift bamboo huts. A few canvas tents looked incongruous, but otherwise it was very like the kind of South-East-Asian village I'd seen many times before. At the far end was a larger construction, a longhouse, and beside it the stream from the waterfall re-emerged, bending around to run along the edge of the clearing. From the straightness of its banks, it had obviously been deliberately diverted.
It was only after taking all this in that I noticed there was something strange about the light. The forest had been both dark and bright by turns, but here everything was lit in an unchanging twilight, more like dusk than midday. I looked up, following the trunk of one of the giant trees. The height of the tree alone was breathtaking, accentuated by the fact that the lower branches had been cut away, so it was possible to appreciate its size. Higher up the branches began to grow again, curving upwards across the clearing like gables until they joined with the branches from the other side. But their point of joining seemed too dense and thick, and as I looked harder I began to see that they were coiled around each other, intertwining to form a cavernous ceiling of wood and leaves, hanging with the stalactite vines that now became magically appropriate.
'Camouflage,' said Jed, behind me. 'We don't want to be seen from the air. Planes sometimes fly over. Not often, but sometimes.' He pointed upwards. 'Originally the branches were tied together with ropes but now they just grow that way. Every so often we have to cut them back a bit, or it gets too gloomy. Impressive, huh?'
'Stunning,' I agreed, and was so captivated by this sight that I didn't even register that people had begun to emerge from the longhouse and were walking over the clearing towards us. Three people to be exact. Two women and a man.
'Sal, Cassie and Bugs,' said one of the women as they reached us. 'I'm Sal, but don't try to remember our names.' She smiled warmly. 'You'll only get confused when you meet the others, and you'll learn them all eventually.'
I'm not likely to forget Bugs, I thought to myself, just managing to suppress a laugh. I frowned and put a hand up to my temples. Since jumping off the waterfall my head had been feeling increasingly light. Now it had started to feel like it might float off my shoulders.
Francoise stepped up to the woman and said, 'Francoise, Etienne and Richard.'
'You're French! Lovely! We've only got one other French person here.'
'Richard is English.' Francoise gestured to me and I tried to nod politely, but I overran the motion forwards and the nod turned into a little bow.
'Lovely!' exclaimed the woman again, watching me curiously out of the corner of her eye. '…Well, let's get you some food, because I know you're all hungry.' She turned to the man. 'Bugs, you want to fix some stew? Then we can all have a good long chat and get to know each other. Does that sound good?'
'It sounds great, Sal,' I said loudly. 'You know, you're quite right. I do feel hungry.' The laugh I'd suppressed before suddenly worked its way out. 'We've only eaten these cold Magi-Noodles and chocolate. We couldn't take the Calor gas stove… Etienne's stove… And…'
Jed lunged to catch me as I fainted, but too late. His alarmed face spun out of view as I toppled backwards. The last thing I saw was a blue pinprick of sky through the canopy ceiling, before darkness rushed in and engulfed it.
Batman
I waited patiently for Mister Duck to show up. I knew he was near because in the candlelight I could see blood scattered in the dust around my bed and there was a red hand-print on the sheets. I guessed he was in the shadows at the other end of the longhouse, waiting to loom out and surprise me. But he was the one who was going to be surprised. This time I was expecting him.
Minutes passed. I sweated and sighed. Wax ran down the candle, balling in the dust. A lizard fell from a beam above and landed between my legs.
The lizard from the rainstorm, come back to visit me.
'Aah,' I said. 'Hallo there.' I reached to pick him up but he wriggled free, leaving a centimetre of pink tail behind.
One of Mister Duck's games.
I swore and held up the tail, and it flipped around on my palm. 'Very clever, Duck. Don't know what it means, but it's very clever.' I sunk back on the pillow. 'Hey, Duck! That's the kid, huh? That's the boy!'
'Who are you talking to?' said a sleepy voice from deep in the shadows.
I sat up again. 'That you, Duck? You sound different.'
'…It's Bugs.'
'Bugs. I remember. Hey, let me guess. Bugs Bunny, right?'
There was a long pause. 'Yes,' said the voice. 'That is right.'
I scratched my head. Sticky clumps were matted into my hair. 'Yeah, thought so. So you've taken over from Duck now. Who's next?' I giggled. 'Road Runner?'
Two people muttered in the darkness.
'Porky Pig? Yosemite Sam? No, wait, I've got it… Wile E. Coyote. It's Wile E. Coyote, isn't it?'
In the orange candlelight I saw a movement down the longhouse, a figure padding towards me. As it moved closer I recognized the slim shape.
'Francoise! Hey, Francoise, this is a better dream than the last one.'
'Shh,' she whispered, kneeling beside me, her long white T-shirt drawing up around her thighs. 'You are not dreaming.'
I shook my head. 'No, Francoise, I am. Trust me. Look at the blood on the floor. That's Mister Duck, from his wrists. They never stop bleeding. You should have seen what happened in Bangkok.'
She looked around, then back at me. 'The blood is from your head, Richard.'
'But…'
'You hurt it when you fell.'
'…Mister Duck.'
'Shh. There are people asleep in here. Please.'
I lay down, feeling puzzled, and she rested her hand on my forehead.
'You have a little fever. Do you think you can go back to sleep?'
'…I don't know.'