“Really? Who gave you the first one?”
“A Montagnard, obviously.”
“Why did he — or she — give it to you?”
“He. You didn’t mess around with their women, or you’d wind up with your dick on a stick.”
“Good. So, why did they give you a bracelet?”
“Just a token of friendship. They handed them out pretty easily if they liked you. Unfortunately, they expected you to eat with them, and they ate things that were worse than C rations.”
“Such as?”
“Well, nothing as bad as the Viets. They’re into meat — deer, boar, birds, weasels, and other horrible wildlife. They burned their meat to a cinder. But it was the cup of warm blood that was a little hard to get down.”
“You drank the blood?”
“It went well with the red meat.”
We got to the outdoor café. It was nearly one P.M., and the place was filled with Euros and Americans, including backpackers. There were a few guys who could have been veterans, but mostly there were a lot of tour groups sitting together, who I didn’t think had any association with this place; Khe Sanh was obviously on the tour route, and I supposed most of these people had signed up for this at their hotels in Hue. The brochure probably said something like: Khe Sanh! See the actual site where the famous bloody three-month siege of the U.S. Marine Combat Base took place — Relive the horrors of 30,000 men locked in mortal combat from the comfort of your air-conditioned bus. Side trip to a Montagnard village — Lunch included.
Anyway, the tables were full, but I spotted a table for four where only an American guy and a Viet guy sat, having a beer. I went over to the table and said, “Mind if we sit here?”
The American, a big guy of about my age, said, “No. Go ahead.”
Susan and I sat.
The guy said, “My name’s Ted Buckley.” He put out his hand.
I took it and said, “Paul Brenner. This is Susan Weber.”
He took Susan’s hand. “Pleased to meet you. This is Mr…. what’s your name?”
The Viet guy, who looked about sixty, said, “I am Mr. Tram. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
Ted Buckley said to us, “Mr. Tram was a North Vietnamese army officer, a captain — right? He saw combat here. Can you believe that?”
Mr. Tram sort of smiled and bowed his head.
Ted added, “And I was here with the Twenty-sixth Marine Regiment, January to June ’68.” He smiled and said, “So Mr. Tram and I were here at the same time, but on different sides of the wire.”
I looked at Mr. Tram, and our eyes met. He was trying to figure out if I had been here, too, and if I was carrying a grudge, or if, like Ted Buckley, I just found this a hell of a coincidence.
Ted said, “Mr. Tram said he would be my guide at the base. Are you guys going to the base, or were you there?”
I replied, “We’re on our way.”
The waitress came over, and Susan and I ordered whatever beer was cold.
Ted looked at me and asked, “Marines?”
I replied with the standard, “Hell, no. Do I look that stupid?”
He laughed. “Army?”
“First Cav.”
“No shit?” He looked at Susan. “Sorry.” Then he asked me, “Were you here?”
“I was.” In the spirit of good-natured interservice rivalry, I added, “Don’t you remember that the cavalry flew in and bailed your butts out?”
“Bullshit. We had Charlie right where we wanted him.”
“He had you surrounded for three months, Ted.”
“That’s where we wanted him.”
We both laughed. This was fun. I think.
Mr. Tram and Susan were both smoking now, sitting quietly and listening.
Ted said to Mr. Tram, “This guy was here, too. First Cavalry Division. You understand that?”
Mr. Tram nodded and said to me, “You arrived on the first day of April.”
“That’s right.”
He informed me, “I remember it well.”
“Good. Me, too.”
The beers came, and we all raised our bottles. Ted said, “To peace.”
We all touched bottles and drank.
I looked at Ted Buckley. He was, as I said, a big guy, but had acquired some pounds since those lean, mean months of the siege of Khe Sanh. His face was weathered, and his hands were rough, so he did outdoor manual labor.
Susan asked him, “Are you here alone?”
“My wife’s with me. She stayed in Hue. Said I’d get more out of this if I came alone.” He explained, “We’re with a tour group. Came up from Saigon by mini-bus. Just met Mr. Tram. He said he’d give me a private tour. Hey, you’re welcome to join us.”
I said, “Thanks. We will.”
Ted looked at Susan and asked, “How’d you get dragged along?”
She smiled and replied, “I volunteered.”
“Never volunteer for anything. Right, Paul?” He added, “You guys staying in Hue?”
Susan replied, “We are.”
He said, “We saw the Citadel there yesterday. Jesus, most of it’s still leveled.” He asked me, “You see any action there?”
“No. I was mostly up in Quang Tri.”
“Right. LZ Sharon. I remember that. What did you do with the Cav?”
“Regular grunt.”
“Me, too. I spent six months of my tour in this shithole.” He said to Susan, “Sorry. I can’t think of a better word for it.”
Susan replied, “I’m used to it by now.” She turned to Mr. Tram and asked him, “How long were you here?”
He replied, “Four months. I arrive in December of 1967, and I leave here in April.” He looked at me and said, “When Mr. Paul arrive, I leave.” He thought that was a little funny and sort of giggled.
Ted regarded Mr. Tram a moment and asked him, “How was it on the other side of the wire?”
Mr. Tram understood the question, thought a moment and replied, “Very bad. The American bombers come day and night, and the cannons fire day and night… it was very bad for us… and for you, too, I am sure… but the bombers were very bad.”
Ted replied, “Well, buddy, I was on the receiving end of your cannons for three fucking months.”
“Yes, war is terrible for everyone.”
It got quiet for a while, then Ted said to me, “Hey, can you believe this? I mean, can you believe you’re back?”
“I’m working on it.”
Ted said to Susan, “You look too young to remember any of this.”
She replied, “I was, but Paul has been kind enough to share his memories with me.”
Ted obviously wanted to ask about our relationship, so before it bugged him too much, I said to him, “Susan and I met in Hue, and I invited her to come with me today.”
“Okay. So, you just met.” He asked Susan, “Where you from?”
“Lenox, Mass.”
“Yeah? I’m from Chatham, New York, just across the state line. I have a small construction company.” He smiled and said, “I dug so many trenches here and built so many bunkers, when I got home, I wanted to sandbag my house and dig firing trenches around it. My old man got me a job with a bricklayer instead.”
Susan smiled.
Ted asked me, “Where you from, Paul?”
“Boston originally. I live in Virginia now.”
Susan asked Mr. Tram, “And where are you from?”
He smiled and replied, “I am from a small city on the coast called Dong Hoi.” He added, “It is in the former North Vietnam, but there is no border since the reunification, and so I move here to Khe Sanh with my family six years ago.”
Ted asked, “Why?”
He replied, “It is an economic development zone.”
“Yeah? But why here?”
He thought a moment and replied, “I remember the beautiful green hills and valley when I arrive here, before the battle… many Vietnamese are moving away from the coast where there are many people. This is, as you would say, the new frontier.”