Lisa was awakened by a sound in the back garden. She shook Hollis. “There’s someone outside.”
Hollis opened his eyes and heard the creak of a door. “The bathroom is outside.”
“Oh.”
There were noises coming from the kitchen, and a rooster’s crowing cut through the dawn. Lisa said, “I can see my breath.” She exhaled. “See?”
“Very nice.” Through the window, Hollis saw Zina, Pavel and Ida’s daughter, coming from the outhouse. She passed by the curtainless window but kept her head and eyes straight ahead.
Lisa said, “It’s Sunday morning, Sam, and the church bells are silent all over Russia.”
Hollis nodded. “I’d like to hear a church bell again.”
They sat in silence awhile, listening to the morning birds, then Lisa said softly, “Do you like it in the morning?”
“What? Oh….”
“I’d hate to think I was a one-night stand, so let’s do it again.”
“All right.”
They made love again, then lay back under the quilts, watching their breath as the dawn lit up the window. Lisa said, “This is called smoking in bed.”
She put her arm around him and rubbed her toes over his foot. After a while she said, “Turn over.”
Hollis lay on his stomach, and she pulled the quilts down. In the weak light she saw the white and purple scars that started at his neck and continued down to his buttocks. “I guess you did get banged up. Does that hurt?”
“No.”
“Were you burned?”
“Hot shrapnel.”
“The plane exploded?”
“Well, not by itself. A surface-to-air missile went up its ass.”
“Go on.”
Hollis rolled onto his back. “Okay. December twenty-nine, 1972. Ironically it turned out to be the last American mission over North Vietnam. The Christmas bombings. Remember that?”
“No.”
“Anyway, I was over Haiphong, released the bombs, and turned back toward South Vietnam. Then my radar officer, Ernie Simms, in the backseat says coolly, ‘Missile coming up.’ And he gives me some evasive-action instructions. But the SAM was onto us, and I couldn’t shake it. The last thing Ernie said was ‘Oh, no.’ The next thing I knew, there was an explosion, the instrument panel went black, and the aircraft was out of control. There was blood spurting all over the place, and the canopy was covered with it. I thought it was mine, but it was Ernie Simms’. The F-4 was in a tight roll, wing over wing and streaking straight into the South China Sea. I jettisoned the canopy, and Simms and I blew out of the cockpit. Our parachutes opened, and we came down into the water. I floated around awhile watching enemy gunboats converging on me and contemplating life in a POW camp.”
Hollis sat up and stared out the window. He said, “I saw Simms in his flotation seat, about a hundred meters away. He’d gotten a compress bandage on his neck and seemed alert. I called to him and he answered. One of the gunboats was bearing down on him. He yelled out to me, ‘Sam, they’ve got me.’ I swam toward him, but he waved me away. There wasn’t much I could do anyway. I saw the Viets pull him aboard. Then they came for me. But by that time the Marine air-sea rescue choppers had come in with guns and rockets blazing away at the gunboats. A chopper plucked me up. I saw the boat that Simms was on, cutting a course back toward the North Viet shore batteries, and our choppers broke off the pursuit…. They flew me to a hospital ship.”
Lisa didn’t say anything.
Hollis said, “I found out afterwards that I was the last pilot shot down over North Vietnam. I saw my name mentioned in a history book once. Very dubious honor. Simms has the equally dubious distinction of being the last MIA.”
“My lord… what an experience.” She added tentatively, “Do you think… Simms… I mean, he never turned up?”
“No. MIA.”
“And… did you think… does it bother you to talk about it?”
Hollis answered her unasked question. “I don’t know what I could have done for him. But he was my copilot and my responsibility. Maybe… maybe I don’t have the sequence of events right, the distance between me and him, the time when our choppers came in… I think I was out of it. I don’t know what I could have done for him. Except to swim to him and see to his wound and join him in captivity. Maybe that’s what I should have done as the commander of the aircraft.”
“But you were wounded.”
“I didn’t even know that.”
“Then you were in shock.”
Hollis shrugged. “It’s done. It’s finished.”
She put her hand on his shoulder.
A few minutes passed in silence, then Hollis said, “So, to come full circle, Ernie Simms was never on any North Viet list of KIAs, or POWs, so he’s still officially missing. Yet I saw them take him aboard alive. And now with this Dodson business I’m starting to wonder again about all of that. All the guys whose chutes were seen opening and who were never heard of again. Now I’m wondering if Ernie Simms and a thousand other guys didn’t wind up in Russia.”
“In Russia…?” Lisa found her jacket under the quilts and got a cigarette out of the pocket. She lit it and took a long pull. “Want one?”
“Maybe later.”
“This is a mindblower, Sam.”
Hollis looked at her. “A mindblower… yes.” He said, “Look, we should get moving.” Hollis swung his legs out of the bed, then walked to the trunk where his clothes lay.
Lisa whistled. “Nice body.”
“Cut it out.” He looked at her standing naked by the electric heater gathering her clothes from between the quilts. “You don’t have fat thighs, but your feet are big.”
They dressed and went through the second bedroom into the kitchen, where Ida greeted them and gave them a washbowl of hot water, a towel, and a bar of soap. They washed at the side table that still had a tub of dirty dishes on it. Lisa excused herself and went out back. Hollis went out into the cold air and walked to the dirt road. The Chaika had not left any tread marks on the frozen mud, but the vehicle with it, a half-track, had left its tread marks. Why they hadn’t stopped and searched the village was anyone’s guess. “Luck.” He added, “Laziness.” Though maybe someone was looking out for them.
Hollis walked on the mud path beside Pavel’s izba, entered the dead garden, and passed Lisa on her way back to the house. She said, “Isn’t this fun?”
Hollis assured her it wasn’t and kept walking. When he got back to the kitchen, he found Pavel sitting at the kitchen table with Lisa. Also at the table were Pavel’s children, Mikhail and Zina. They were sharing a math textbook and doing homework, though it was Sunday. Hollis sat and Ida served him a boiled egg, kasha, and tea. The Russian tea was, as always, excellent. There was a stack of brown bread and a bowl of butter on the table. Hollis spoke to the two teenagers about school, then asked, “What is your favorite subject?”
The boy smiled and answered in English, “English.”
Hollis smiled in return. He continued in Russian, “I know all the students in Moscow take English, but I didn’t know they taught it in the country.”
The girl replied in halting English, “Everyone in school learn English. We speak it sometimes between we.”
Lisa said in English, “Who is your favorite American author?”
Mikhail replied, “We know a few now we are reading. Jack London and James Baldwin.” He asked, “Does The Fire Next Time be printed in America?”
“Oh, yes. I’ve read it,” Lisa answered.
“They put him in jail?” Zina asked.
“No. They gave him a big royalty check. Komissiya.”
Mikhail said, “Our teacher say they put him in jail.”