Hooligans by William Diehl Page B

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    over at the paper mill at Christmas and she never even wrote him or anything. You think I‟m gonna
    tell him that? There‟s a lot of Arlenes in the world but Bobby, he only has two legs and two balls.
    Now he ain‟t got neither.”
    And I just sit there listening because, what are you to say, right? Besides, my insides are really
    beginning to churn and I‟m wondering when I‟m going up. And then he says, “What‟s it like back in
    the world? Do they really spit on soldiers?” And I says I never saw anybody spit on a soldier,
    although once I did see a demonstration and I was in uniform and a bunch of them, y‟know, they shot
    me a bird like it‟s my fault I got to go to Vietnam.
    Finally I navigate the kid from Wisconsin back to his quarters and he‟s really soused and the last thing
    he says to me is, “I‟m afraid to go home, scared shitless here and scared shitless to go home, shit,
    they‟re gonna hate me because of Bobby.”
    I never saw him again but I know what he means now, about them hating him because of what
    happened to his brother. You get so paranoid after awhile. After awhile you get so you think
    everybody back in the world blames you for the whole thing.
    Like this Jesus freak from Mississippi I meet at the Red Cross. He‟s even worse. He kind of babbles,
    you know, runs things to-get her, like he can‟t get it off his chest quick enough, keeps talking about
    the kids, about killing kids. “Kids?” I says to him. “Listen,” he says and he‟s whispering, “don‟t ever
    shoot a water buffalo, hear? You can kill women arid children but you kill a water buffalo, man,
    they‟ll bury you under the brig.” Then he starts laughing. Laughing. Then he says, “Nothin‟ over here
    makes any sense. Sometimes I wonder, hey, we the good guys or not? But you ask an officer that,
    he‟ll send you u to the psycho ward. I don‟t pray anymore. I‟m too embarrassed to talk to Cod. I got
    too much to tell him.” He goes on like that for maybe an hour, shaking his head the whole time.
    Always whispering.
    By the time I get my walking papers I‟m almost glad to be going into it. This place is nuts. It all
    seems to come to a head here at Cam Ranh because you get them comin‟ and goin‟. Everybody‟s a
    little crazy. There‟s a lot of questions you want to ask but after awhile you figure out nobody has any
    answers, anyhow, why bother.
    So anyway, here 1 am in this creepy little town near the river, if you can even call it a town, I‟m not
    here five minutes, the lieutenant, who looks about sixteen, red hair and freckles, his name is Carmody,
    sits down and pops two beers, and he says, “Now listen good to me. I been out here, it‟s going on
    eight months. I got my own way of doing things after all that time, so you do what I say, don‟t even
    argue, don‟t tell me you didn‟t learn It that way back in the world, you just do it and I‟ll get you home
    alive. You don‟t, 1 give you two weeks, you‟ll be dead or missing something you don‟t want to lose.”
    I don‟t say anything, I just listen. I try not to shake but I am real nervous.
    “I got a few rules,” he says. “In the beginning, no matter what happens, follow me. If Charlie starts
    busting caps, you just follow me. Don‟t talk, don‟t start yelling at anybody else. If I go down, you go
    down. Find a pebble or a mound of dirt or a paddy and get below it. Get under his horizon. If you get
    hit, don‟t say anything and don‟t move. You do, and you‟re dead. Just lay there, somebody‟ll get you.
    That‟s my last rule—we don‟t leave anybody behind. Dead or alive, everybody goes out together.”
    I was so scared my stomach hurt.
    “These VC are good, goddamn good,” he says. “Don‟t let anybody tell you different because that‟s
    bullshit. All that shit they gave you back in Al, forget it. They got tunnels out there, they go on for
    miles. They got whole operating rooms under the ground, not just some little