Battle Fatigue by Mark Kurlansky Page B

up. He is wearing a marine-green T-shirt that is completely soaked. He is sweating so much that he looks like he just stepped out of a shower. He tries to say something, but his teeth are chattering and he can’t speak. He is shaking.
    â€œYou have malaria,” I say.
    â€œYe-e-ah,” he says, shaking so badly that the word comes out in about eight syllables. We walk over to the swing set in my yard where I used to play when I was little and we sit on the swings. I let him stay quiet for a long time. I know how to do this. Then finally I say, “Are you all right?”
    â€œFuck.”
    â€œFuck yes or fuck no?”
    He smiles and even laughs a bit. Then we stay silent for a little longer. I know he will start talking soon. He does. “It was the last mission. The last fucking mission. I was so short I wasn’t even supposed to go. But I wanted to be with my buddies. How stupid is that?” He talks for an hour about his last mission. But I have no idea what he is talking about. I never find out the details of the mission. Only that he keeps reliving it in dreams. But I don’t know what happened—I don’t know about Dickey’s war any more than I know about my father’s war or my uncle’s.

Chapter Eighteen
    My War, Deferred
    It seems like we have all run off in different directions. More kids from my class are going to college than ever before in the history of the school. The reason is that the only other alternative is to go to Vietnam and end up like Dickey. Lyndon Johnson is sending more and more troops to Vietnam and it seems almost certain that we will all be drafted and sent. If you are in college, they won’t take you until you graduate. This is called a “college deferment.” But a lot of the kids in Haley don’t have the money for college and they will be going to Vietnam. There are state schools and there are scholarships. Donnie LePine easily gets scholarship offers from three different schools that everyone wanted to get into. Stanley is struggling to get money but thinks he will at least be able to go to a state school. I get into the school I wanted, Whiting College in New Hampshire, and my parents say they can pay the tuition. I am luckier than most kids. But the crisis is just being deferred for four years. Once we get our degrees we will be sent off. Of course there is the possibility that in four years the war will be over, but at the moment it looks like it is getting worse. Besides, that is not my destiny. This is my war and it is going to take more than a college deferment to get rid of it.
    My parents send me off to college with more tears than the Panicellis shed when they sent Dickey off to war. My father takes me down to the shelter to touch tuna cans while telling me things like “study hard.” He is more sentimental than I ever realized. My mother has done research and assures me that there are Jewish girls at Whiting. I am looking forward to seeing what kind of girls they have at Whiting but this is not something I want to talk to my mother about. Donnie LePine, while considering Whiting, told me that it was known for its beautiful women. I am excited about my new life and about leaving Haley, even if I am a little sad about leaving. I’m even sad about not having Sam to pick on anymore. In the tenth grade, he is slightly taller and larger than me and so serious that I am sure most people would think he was the older brother. He tells me, “Listen, Joel, be careful. What you do in college is going to shape the rest of your life.” By the time he gets to college he probably will be older than me.

    As a freshman at Whiting College, I consider joining an officer-training program known as ROTC. There would be a few special courses and training and a uniform to wear once a week. At least this way when my time comes I could go as an officer. Only something Dickey Panicelli told me is making me rethink this idea of