You have them all the time?”
“I tell you my fucking head hurts,” Mallory whined.
“I believe you, Mallory. It’s just that there’s not much we can do about it. I suppose we could send you back to VCB for a
checkup.” Mellas watched for a reaction, but Mallory only bent his head over his knees, holding it in his hands.
“My fucking head hurts.”
Mellas looked at Fredrickson, who shrugged his shoulders. “Tell you what, Mallory,” Mellas said. “I’ll see if we can’t get
you back to VCB for a couple of days to see the doctor. Right now you’ll just have to bear with it for a while, OK?”
Mallory moaned. “I can’t stand it. It fucking hurts all the time.”
Mellas hesitated, then sighed. “I’ll go up and talk with the senior squid,” he said.
“I already seen him. He didn’t do nothing.”
“Well, maybe we can get you out. Just hang in there for a while.”
“OK, sir.” Mallory stood up and dragged himself down the hill toward the lines.
Fredrickson asked, “What do you think, sir?”
“I don’t know. I think he probably has headaches. The question is, how bad.” Mellas poked at the remains of the spaghetti.
“I’d hate to haveit be some sort of brain problem and not get it checked out. We could get in deep shit.”
Up at Sheller’s hooch, Mellas met with some resistance—not from Sheller, but from Hawke and Cassidy, who were playing pinochle
with him.
“He’s a fucking malingerer,” Cassidy growled.
“How do you know that?” Mellas asked.
“I can smell ’em. Half the Marines on this hill have headaches and gut aches and all sorts of fucking aches, but they don’t
keep asking to go back to VCB.”
“Suppose he has a tumor or something. You want to risk that?”
“All he needs is a kick in the ass.”
“I think Cassidy’s right,” Hawke said. “Mallory tried to get out of the DMZ op, but we never let him. He was fine after that.
No complaints until now. Everyone knows we got to go down into the valley as soon as Charlie and Alpha Company are pulled
out. So all of a sudden, up come the headaches.”
“Maybe it’s psychosomatic,” Mellas said. “I mean, maybe it’s true he’s scared. Maybe that’s what gives him headaches.”
Cassidy folded his cards in his hands. “What the fuck’s psychosomatic except another fancy word for someone who doesn’t want
to do something that’s hard and scary? Nerves don’t break down—they give up. I’ve got a psychosomatic pain in the ass with
all these fucking yardbirds. Go watch the sick bay the day before we shove off on an operation. Every nigger in the battalion’s
waiting in line. Mallory ain’t no different.”
Mellas’s jaw set at the remark, but he said nothing.
“They don’t all go, Gunny,” Hawke said. “In fact, hardly any of them. But I’ll grant you that Mallory probably would.”
Cassidy sighed. “It’s your fucking platoon, Lieutenant,” he said to Mellas.
“And I’ll send him to VCB.”
“Fine, sir. I’ll let you know when the next bird comes in. Get his ass up to the LZ. Don’t be too surprised if he doesn’t
come back until after we go into the valley.”
A chopper bringing in water for the artillery battery came in the next morning, and Mallory flew to Vandegrift Combat Base,
VCB. He returned three days later, along with a note to the senior squid from the battalion’s navy surgeon, Lieutenant Selby.
“I see nothing wrong with this Marine that would keep him from performing his normal duties.” Sheller walked it down to Mellas
and Fredrickson, and Mellas called Mallory up and handed it to him.
“Sheeit,” Mallory said after reading it. “Sheeit. I tell you my fucking head aches.” He avoided looking at Mellas.
Mellas wanted to ask why one visit to the battalion aid station had taken three days. But he let it go, since Jancowitz had
already dressed Mallory down in front of the whole squad and put him on listening post two nights to
“I tell you my fucking head hurts,” Mallory whined.
“I believe you, Mallory. It’s just that there’s not much we can do about it. I suppose we could send you back to VCB for a
checkup.” Mellas watched for a reaction, but Mallory only bent his head over his knees, holding it in his hands.
“My fucking head hurts.”
Mellas looked at Fredrickson, who shrugged his shoulders. “Tell you what, Mallory,” Mellas said. “I’ll see if we can’t get
you back to VCB for a couple of days to see the doctor. Right now you’ll just have to bear with it for a while, OK?”
Mallory moaned. “I can’t stand it. It fucking hurts all the time.”
Mellas hesitated, then sighed. “I’ll go up and talk with the senior squid,” he said.
“I already seen him. He didn’t do nothing.”
“Well, maybe we can get you out. Just hang in there for a while.”
“OK, sir.” Mallory stood up and dragged himself down the hill toward the lines.
Fredrickson asked, “What do you think, sir?”
“I don’t know. I think he probably has headaches. The question is, how bad.” Mellas poked at the remains of the spaghetti.
“I’d hate to haveit be some sort of brain problem and not get it checked out. We could get in deep shit.”
Up at Sheller’s hooch, Mellas met with some resistance—not from Sheller, but from Hawke and Cassidy, who were playing pinochle
with him.
“He’s a fucking malingerer,” Cassidy growled.
“How do you know that?” Mellas asked.
“I can smell ’em. Half the Marines on this hill have headaches and gut aches and all sorts of fucking aches, but they don’t
keep asking to go back to VCB.”
“Suppose he has a tumor or something. You want to risk that?”
“All he needs is a kick in the ass.”
“I think Cassidy’s right,” Hawke said. “Mallory tried to get out of the DMZ op, but we never let him. He was fine after that.
No complaints until now. Everyone knows we got to go down into the valley as soon as Charlie and Alpha Company are pulled
out. So all of a sudden, up come the headaches.”
“Maybe it’s psychosomatic,” Mellas said. “I mean, maybe it’s true he’s scared. Maybe that’s what gives him headaches.”
Cassidy folded his cards in his hands. “What the fuck’s psychosomatic except another fancy word for someone who doesn’t want
to do something that’s hard and scary? Nerves don’t break down—they give up. I’ve got a psychosomatic pain in the ass with
all these fucking yardbirds. Go watch the sick bay the day before we shove off on an operation. Every nigger in the battalion’s
waiting in line. Mallory ain’t no different.”
Mellas’s jaw set at the remark, but he said nothing.
“They don’t all go, Gunny,” Hawke said. “In fact, hardly any of them. But I’ll grant you that Mallory probably would.”
Cassidy sighed. “It’s your fucking platoon, Lieutenant,” he said to Mellas.
“And I’ll send him to VCB.”
“Fine, sir. I’ll let you know when the next bird comes in. Get his ass up to the LZ. Don’t be too surprised if he doesn’t
come back until after we go into the valley.”
A chopper bringing in water for the artillery battery came in the next morning, and Mallory flew to Vandegrift Combat Base,
VCB. He returned three days later, along with a note to the senior squid from the battalion’s navy surgeon, Lieutenant Selby.
“I see nothing wrong with this Marine that would keep him from performing his normal duties.” Sheller walked it down to Mellas
and Fredrickson, and Mellas called Mallory up and handed it to him.
“Sheeit,” Mallory said after reading it. “Sheeit. I tell you my fucking head aches.” He avoided looking at Mellas.
Mellas wanted to ask why one visit to the battalion aid station had taken three days. But he let it go, since Jancowitz had
already dressed Mallory down in front of the whole squad and put him on listening post two nights to
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