"Look, I've just read Jimmi Hendrix died of an overdose of drugs [September, l970]," said Aaron one of the security police at the barracks to me, while walking through the hallway with a paper in his hands, the paper being sent from his parents, and a few weeks old. "Yaw, but who is he?" I asked. Aaron thought for a moment, thinking I was kidding, but as he looked at me a second time, looking straight into my eyes, he knew I was not kidding. "All you know about is Elvis, Nat King Cole, and that Rick Nelson guy. You got to get out of that circle man, check it out. What you doing later?" "Not sure, why." "I'll meet you at the guesthouse"Chris is supposed to be there with several of her friends." "What time?" "About 9:00 PM I suppose." "I expect to see you their Chick,"Aaron said suddenly, as he walked down the hall to his room. He knew a few of my friends, Holly for instance, and her other boyfriend would not be there, and there were three or four other faces he remembered meeting at the Club down town. But for the most part, he did not know who was going to show up, and wanted to make sure I was there. It was Chris' birthday, and she for some odd reason chose this bar to celebrate. All her friends were Germans, and that didn't really put a spark in my mind as to have a night of enjoyment with them. To be quite frank, I really didn't like drinking with her friends all that much, they couldn't speak very much English, and I was just as bad at German. And so that left Chris doing her talking mostly in German, plus they were a different breed I felt. As the clock struck 7:30 PM I walked out of the barracks quietly up the street, several blocks to the guesthouse. I had some bad news to tell Chris, I thought nothing on earth could be worse or better. On one hand it was good, for the relationship was getting a little complex and nervy, and it was really never made to last forever anyhow. On the other hand, it was not what I really expected. As I continued to walk to the guesthouse, it was odd I told myself, that a good-looking girl like Chris would have so little confidence in herself. The reason being, she was always trying to be in control. But then I was avoiding some of my thoughts also. I guess somewhere in all this complexity, her trying to departmentalize everything and everyone was getting to me. I had never felt love, anger and frustration all in one day over a person, and Chris could do that lately to me: --yet I was compelled to hang on, and at the same time wanting to let go, and now I get orders to go to Vietnam at the end of January, [it was October 5, 1970 now]. I hadn't kept up with Vietnam much, I did know about the Mylai Massacre everyone was talking about, in the newspapers all the time, and that the South Vietnamese troops went into Cambodia sweeping through a Viet Cong area, and a few thousand American troops had left Cambodia. The war didn't seem to be going any place soon. I was called into the Command Sergeant Major's office the other day, and was told I had orders to go to Vietnam. I knew why, it was because of that damn thing I signed"the petition. The Sergeant Major denied it, when I brought it up to his attention, but who sends someone to Vietnam when after I would leave Germany, take a thirty day leave, and only have eight months left to do inside the country, no one, it's silly, normally if you got orders to go to Vietnam, they wanted you there for one-year at least. But it's all right, war is war, and hick, it will be something new: so were my thoughts. Things were getting a little tense around here lately"anyhow. It is just another draft, like the first one that sent me here in the first place so I told myself. 'It's all right,' I told myself as I continued to walk to the guesthouse. Speaking from complete ignorance of the subject, what was there to like, I'd find something about Vietnam, the traveling if anything. I liked to travel. I was kind of wondering how I would be in a combated zone anyway, you know; would I freeze under fire, hide when the bombs came. I'll find out when I'm there, fuck it, send me I'm ready. I'm not running to Canada, like the other cowards, or maybe they were smart. I don't give a shit. My neighborhood was probably more dangerous than Vietnam. Life is like a storm, you just got to be optimistic or you will sink before it's over. Hitler was probably like that, had to adjust getting his ass kicked. Now it's my turn to kick ass. 'Very well,' I said aloud, talking to myself again, indifferent, as always, I gazed upon towards the guesthouse about a half-block away. I had until December 10th to get mentally ready for this, a thirty-day leave, and then advance jungle training in California, or Washington State, then onto Vietnam. A cold chill came over me; my mind shifted back to something I had read yesterday, Janis Joplin had died from an overdose of drugs. Funny I thought, that was two famous people who died recently, all in a two-month period, they come in threes I hear, and now Vietnam, now does that sound like a coincidences or not? I learned one thing in life, don't make something out of nothing, leave that for God, and so let's get on with the party. It's funny I thought, no one in the barracks really talked about Vietnam, most of the GI's stationed at Reese stayed there for the duration of their tour of duty. Matter-of-fact, they were more up on the Beatles breaking up, or the Jumbo Jet that was skyjacked recently and brought to Havana, and Castro celebrated by laughing at the world, or was it the US he was laughing at, whatever, but not Vietnam, no one talked about it, not even Tony, and he was there. Most of the people who went to Vietnam were assigned to Germany if they had time left in the Army to do; the other way around. I opened the door to the guesthouse and took a sharp right, and through the second door, I was in the main portion now of the establishment, several tables about, and the place was busy. To my far left, was Chris with several of her friends, they had put three tables together with a nice looking tablecloth covering all of the tables together, white as white can be. I noticed everyone was half drunk already. Things usually don't bother me, but for some reason watching them pour down the booze, smoking, looking at the half filled ashtrays, a hundred drinks on the table or so it seemed, half of them empty, I simply wanted to swear. "Mm-m?" I walked closer to them looking at one of the two waitresses'. "Look," Chris told her friends, "Chick is here." They all looked at me, as I put on a smile to join them. "Good-en talk," I said to her guests, and friends, as if they really could understand my Germanic-gobbledygook. They all said their hellos to me in German. "Holly,"I said, "Hi, how yaw doing..." two of the men, who were at the pizzeria cafe where Chris managed, who got drunk there one occasion, one evening with me and tried to explain to me the illness Chris had, were at the table also, we caught each others eyes, and their hello's came. I ordered a beer, told Chris that Aaron who she had seen at the security barracks, and knew of him slightly"but did not know him as well as Tony knew her, whom now had gone back to the states"was coming up in a little while to join us. She smiled nodding her head as if to say, 'so what,' then turned to her friends and continued talking in German to them. They were talking too fast for me to understand anything clear. I spoke a little German, it didn't of course take into account the proper pronunciation, but only the real basics. That is to say, I could order a meal, drinks, say goodbye, hello, and those things, and at times beyond that, but not too far beyond. I sat idly as they talked for about an hour, everyone smoking, drinking; the tablecloth looking at me, starring at me as if it was the dominant figure in this whole fucken scene. For some reason I told myself, my Irish and Russian and Polish temper was emerging, and when I got mad and crossed some kind of dividing line, I lost all senses, which I normally did not get mad, I had what they called a long wick. One could say I wish it was longer tonight, but it isn't...but god help me and everyone around, and the establishment if I could not control it. I have tried all my life it has been one hell of a task. Matter-of-fact, one night in the NCO-Club [Non-Commissioned Officers Club] here in Germany at the American Hotel, around the corner from our base, I got drunk and someone called me a Niger lover because I was with a black friend, who walk in the club with me, a big black dud, and yaw, I walked right into trouble. A man confronted me, calling me on, I kicked him in the nuts, and as he fell to the floor, I elbowed him in the spine which bought him smashing down on his face, head first on the bar floor. The Command Sergeant Major, grabbed me in a full-nelson to stop me from fighting, and I broke his nose, with a back punch with my fist. Everyone wants to stop the winner, why? At any rate, that was the second month I was here, and I thought the Sergeant Major forgot what I looked like, maybe that was why he is sending me to Vietnam, that was hidden in my subconscious I think. "Chris, Chris...aaa..." "Yaw, what do you want?" "Nothing,"I really wanted her to take notice though. I tried to get her attention again but she did not answer again. "Look, I'm going to go." "Yaw, all right..." she mumbled without even looking at me, "fucken bitch," I mumbled. She didn't even look. The next few second, I seemed to be going into a trance looking at... observing everyone across the table, down the table, down and up, down and up, I felt indiscriminately on Mars, I wanted to jump on the fucken table, and say look at me fuckers!! But I kept looking at the tablecloth, no one paying me an ounce of attention...going on two hours, fucken-hours. I couldn't go cheerfully anymore, with all the strength in my focus and hands I grabbed the tablecloth with two hands, and jerked it so hard all the beer, cigarette butts"everything... flew all about, -- flying on everyone's laps, in their faces, onto their pants, Shock-Shockkkkkk everyone was in shock. I loved it. I just stood there and watched as if I had landed on Mars now. Now I got my attention...you see I said to my alter ego: there is a price for everything, and silence my friend does not mean life is going smoothly, it often is the opposite. I was standing looking at the mess I had created and the Germans were looking at me... "...Fuck yaw all," I said "Who's first," I added, I looked about they all wanted to be first, not a very good idea, I told myself, but so be it... Said Chris in shock, "You better get out of the bar," I then turned about and started walking out. One of the Germans picked up a chair, and was about to hit me in the back of the head, and Aaron came in, and evidently hit him, and a fight started, at which time I was half drunk standing outside cooling off. Not knowing what was going on. Three or four guys came running out of the bar after Aaron and Chris behind them. The guys got into a circle and started to punch him. I grabbed one by the shirt, and Chris pushed me away, said, "Let it be, he hurt one of her guests," and the punching went on. "Stop the fight or I'll stop it," I said. It continued for another minute, and I said it again, --then before I could jump in, Chris jumped in telling them to stop. Then I walked away, --my friend on the ground and Chris walking away with her friends...'fuck you all...' I mumbled as I walked the dark pathway back to the compound. I told myself as I walked away, I should have helped more. I didn't know exactly what happened, but I didn't feel good about it. The next day Aaron came to me and asked why I didn't help. But I did, I just didn't help enough, yet I didn't say a thing, no matter what, it would not be good enough and I knew it. "What is it, I was there for you, and I stopped a man from hitting you with a table, when your back was turned?" "Aaron, I don't know," I said with a low voice. Everyone knew I was not a coward, but maybe this girlfriend of mine was making me weak, for that was not my style. Whatever, I did not want to talk to her, or for that matter, anyone in connection with the previous evening. A week passed, and Ski came by and asked why I didn't help Aaron, and I just walked away from him also, said I didn't want to talk about it. I went to the river, it's really kind of a ...kind of a cannel with a dam not too far from the compound; it was on the way to the city; I liked the area, walking about its wooded area, watching the water flow through and over the dam, water always calms me. I liked the bridge, which was kind of a walkway over the dam one could walk over it, stop and watch the water beneath them. It was a small, but intoxicating dam. Then I walked by the civilian complex [housing] where John and his wife were living, they looked more like huge square boxes to me, compared to the antique buildings throughout the rest of the city. I was alone most of this time trying to figure why I did what I did, and the only reason was Chris and what I kept hearing in my head, "Don't, don't, or I'll..." threatening to leave me, or something. Was I that into this woman, boxed in. If I was that drowning with passion for her that I would step back from a friend, the affair wasn't worth my time. This was not I, and I did not like what I was becoming. She was like salt water, you couldn't drink, yet I kept trying, didn't I? The second week, I decided to call her boyfriend up, I had his phone number, Chris didn't know but I kept it, saw it written down in her phonebook, which I checked out when she went to the bank a while back. Fucken bitch I dialed the number. I had found out he was married, and he was paying for her apartment, what an ass. "Good Morgan," said a woman's voice over the phone. "You a," the voice said again. "Nothing, just nothing," I said, and hung up the phone. I can't even get revenge. It just wasn't worth it. I'll be gone and this will all be history I told myself. The Confrontation Another week went by [the third], Chris came by in her car but I wouldn't wave at her, she acted as if nothing had happened. She also called but I didn't answer the phone, or return her calls; then out of the blue my superior NCO, Sergeant First Class Flattery, called me to the side of the security building along with Aaron one evening. "Listen," he said in a fatherly voice, "I try not to get involved with your personal affairs..." he hesitated, Chris walked around the corner"stood still as Flattery continued to talk, "As I was saying, you have your own personal life, as well as your military obligation but when it comes to fighting, causing problems in the German community, it becomes my problem. Come here Chris," he ordered, and she did, "she says she wants an apology from both of you or she is going to the Command Sergeant Major, and possibly the Colonel. It would be nice to settle this here." I looked at her as if she was crazy, "This Sergeant Flattery is ridiculous, she is nothing but a trouble maker, and wants more blood, what more does she want, I've had enough of that, fucken bitch." Aaron was standing against the wall of the barracks, looking at me as I started to walk away. "Listen," said Sergeant Flattery, "I did not excuse you private!" I stopped, "I'm not apologizing to her sir, do what you got to do, but it stops here. Aaron to my surprised apologized to Chris. Sergeant Flattery shook his head, "Aaron," he asked, "...say something to Private Evens or this is going to be out of my hands soon." Chris (Stewart) looked with her eyes glued on me, as if a nightmare was being activated. Said Aaron, with a pleading voice, "Listen, I'm not sure why it all came about, but it isn't worth what's coming down. For me, please say you're sorry Chick." I caught my breath, holding back my anger, Chris started to come to me, "Don't come this way," I ordered, "I can see you from here," she stopped, not sure if I was bluffing, "I'm sorry," I said, pushing it out a little muffled. She looked at Sergeant Flattery, "That was really not sincere." "I said I'm sorry, what more do you want, blood?" I said again. She looked at Flattery. "I think you got what you came for, miss." Chris turned around and walked by me, "I'll call you later," she said as she walked across the street to get into her car. Aaron came by, put his hand on my shoulder, "Let it go, I now understand,"I looked at him, and then at Chris's car going, I didn't understand, any of this...how could he. As Sergeant Flattery walked by me he smiled, said, "Carry on, he was happy he could settle it without taking it to another level. He asked Aaron, I could hear, 'Who won the fight,' Aaron said, it was even, with a few flying cigarettes in the faces of the Germans. Maybe it was water over the damn I thought; I noticed everyone was making light of it now. Maybe it was a tense issue for everyone. It becomes that way when people don't know how to react I suppose. I was telling everyone the truth, I didn't know why I acted the way I did, if they knew... well, it was more than I did. If anything it was a bracing strain on my mind, a good reason to get drunk and stay drunk. I did not feel misunderstood, only alone with the issue, hurt like an animal; one could call it hard luck, a poor break, but whatever, I wanted to forget it. The phone rang in the guardhouse, I picked it up, and it was Chris. "I suppose you don't want to talk," she said. "I'm talking, aren't I," I responded. "Please," she said, "...aaaah, you mustn't hold this against me. I've been troubled already with this. I can't think why it all came about." "Yaw, why not call me tomorrow, about noon, if you want, we can go some place." "Sure." |
