“Guess we were wrong. Seems like Stanley is enjoying his present.”
A little over an hour later, the girl emerged. She dipped her head out from the tent with a smile on her face. Before she left, she whispered back to thank Stanley.
“How’d my boy do?” Flannery asked, hoping to get a full report from the girl.
She took a pack of cards out of her pocket and showed them to Flannery. “He no want boom boom,” she answered. “He say … lucky boy … he play cards with pretty girl.”
CHAPTER 28Long Island, 1979
THE ROOM THESISTERS PROVIDED FOR THEM WAS SPACIOUS ANDcontained two bunk beds. Anh had only seen beds like these once before, when she and B?o had been on the vessel that rescued them when their first boat ran out of fuel in the middle of the South China Sea. The sailors on board, most of them French, had shown B?o where they slept, and he’d been enamored with the prospect of sleeping on a bed that nearly touched the ceiling of the cabin.
Now they shared the room with another young family, a couple who had a little daughter who slept nestled against her mother while the husband slept in the bed above.
Anh spent much of each night unable to sleep. Aside from the husband’s snoring, she found herself reflecting on the newfound responsibility of taking care of her nephew who had witnessed the trauma of seeing both his parents swallowed up by the ocean. Every time she saw the scar on his wrist, it pulled her back to that terrible night. Yet she had promised herself from the moment she held B?o in her arms as he dipped in and out of consciousness, she would protect him and care for him as though he was her own.
Although she had no medical knowledge, she had cleansed his wound with salt water to stave off infection after they exhausted the betel leaves. But even with her diligent efforts, a pink scar still remained, a permanent reminder of the pain and sacrifice of their journey.
Sorrow often soaked through her bedclothes, perspiration from her sleeplessness. There were too many sounds in the communal bedroom that were hard to shut out. The couple’s little girl often cried, despiteher mother’s best efforts to pacify her with lullabies that reminded Anh of what her own mother had sung to her as a child. She would also hear B?o sometimes whimpering in his sleep. She didn’t dare allow herself to contribute to this symphony of grief.
While she knew B?o had witnessed the drowning of his parents, his arm a gravestone of his father’s last moments, the nightmare of seeing Minh beaten to death also never left her.
Anh worried deeply about having abandoned him—leaving his grave untended—for it was a Vietnamese custom that a husband and wife be buried side by side so they would be reunited in the afterlife. Having left Minh behind for America, would she ever be returned to him? The thought of spending her eternity alone was even more frightening than this new life in America.
And yet, Anh recognized she was not, in fact, alone in this world. She, a childless mother, and B?o, a motherless child, were now forever entwined, and she would do her best to honor her sister’s spirit. Despite B?o’s being withdrawn and distant with her, she would try hard to find a way to build a life with him in this new, unfamiliar country.
There was an architecture to love. The first bricks of foundation were always how you honored your family.
CHAPTER 29Vietnam, 1969
THREE MONTHS INTO HIS TOUR,JACK AND TWELVE MEN FROMhis platoon were airlifted by helicopter into a wet world of dense jungle, biting insects and fear, thirty miles southwest of Hue. Their mission was a five-day recon patrol of the area to confirm and investigate possible Vietcong presence in the mountains west of Phú L?c.
The men carried everything on their backs: the rolled ponchos, the canteens of water, the belts of ammunition, and their rifles. None had slept more than a couple of hours each day, and their bodies were worn down and hungry.
As they walked, a thick mist enveloped the foliage, and the earthen floor transformed into thick tracks of mud.
Most of the marines had jungle rot on their feet. Endless rain and too many days and nights treading through the tropical rain forest had left their skin with painful, pus-filled red blisters. Doc spent most of his time trying to ensure these ulcers didn’t get infected, for that could lead to more serious complications.
Jack no longer had any dry socks in his pack, and he worried that he, too, might find himself with the dreaded jungle rot. His feet were already pruned and raw from wearing wet boots for days. The radio had also been malfunctioning recently, and he had spent the first hours of that morning drying the connections and replacing the battery to keep it alive. The last thing he wanted was Lieutenant Bates giving him shit about the radio not working. For most of the mission, it seemed as if they had been trekking through steam. It was certainly plausible that the intense humidity, even more extreme than usual, had caused thebattery to malfunction. Luckily, the new battery seemed to rectify the problem, and soon communication was restored.
For several hours, the men had been slowly advancing toward Razorback. Corporal Gomez, the squad leader, made sure that Chief alternated positions with Flannery, the two of them taking turns going from the front of the patrol to the back to keep the point man alert.
Chief had discovered a booby trap that morning. While walking up the mountain—as the point man, his knife slicing through ropes of thick vines and brush—he sensed something amiss. He stopped suddenly and jerked his hand up in the halt position, one leg lifted above a low pile of brush. Without speaking a word, he waved for Larini, who was in charge of diffusing explosives, to come and inspect the suspicious covering.
They all stopped and dropped for cover. Above, a large-winged falcon circled over the treetops.
Larini got down on his knees and carefully lifted the thick carpet of leaves. Beneath them was a thin lattice work of twigs. He removed that, too, as the others kept their eyes peeled in surveillance. Underneath the covering was a deep well with a grenade propped in the side wall. One step farther would have ignited the fuse and blown Chief’s leg off.
Larini worked slowly and carefully to disarm the grenade, and then he lay it off to the side. “Fucking hell,” Flannery cursed, peering over at the trap when it was all over. “Chief, thank God you caught that one.”
“I just had a feeling about it.…” His voice was solemn.
Stanley stepped back and steadied himself against a tree. He had been limping all morning and was two men ahead of Jack. His body was sagging underneath the weight of his flak jacket and pack. He’d thrown up near the stream hours earlier when they went to refill their canteens. His pale skin had grown even paler from his bout of sickness, and his lips had started to look a little blue.
Just after the booby trap incident, Doc had called him aside to see if he was drinking enough water. “You’re overheating, Stan. Keep yourself hydrated.” Doc gave a playful smack on his helmet, causing the wordsKong Killerto dip over Stanley’s large blue eyes.
“I’m okay, Doc,” he answered politely. “I’m no hotter than everyone else.”
“Do me a favor and finish your canteen. Then go over and refill it likeeveryone else.”
