make up for the two days
he’d probably fucked off back in the rear smoking dope. “You’ll just have to live with it, Mallory,” Mellas replied. “It’s
probably psychosomatic. We all get afraid of things and sometimes the body tries to keep us from doing them. You’ll just have
to get over it.”
“You’re saying it’s in my fucking head?” Mallory whined. His tone of voice was an accusation that lumped Mellas with all the
others who wouldn’t help. “I tell you it’s real, man. It fucking hurts me so I can’t hardly think.”
“Mallory, it’s psychosomatic. You’ll just have to get used to it. We can’t do anything for you. We tried.”
“Sheeit.” Mallory turned away, still holding the doctor’s note in his thin hand.
CHAPTER
THREE
T he battalion’s coming in tomorrow,” Fitch said tightly. “Let’s get ’em cleaned up.” A loud salvo from the arty battery exploded
behind them, making everyone flinch. “That means haircuts, shaves, the works. No mustaches unless they’re corporals or higher.
Big John Six’s orders.”
Mellas wearily walked back to the platoon. Hamilton saw him coming and shouted down to the holes below for the squad leaders.
Another salvo rocked the hill, obliterating all other sounds. He reached his hooch and sat down, staring blankly into the
fog. Eventually the three squad leaders arrived. Jancowitz, filthy, was still in his gear from a patrol. On his face, sweat
mixed with fine drops of precipitation. Connolly squatted down with his hands resting across his knees, Vietnamese style.
Jacobs, still nervous about his job as temporary squad leader, already had a green notebook and a ballpoint pen ready. The
next to arrive was Bass, breathing hard from chugging up the slope. He squatted on the ground, looking over toward Doc Fredrickson’s
hooch, annoyed because Fredrickson hadn’t made it to the meeting on time. “He’s up at the LZ with Senior Squid,” Mellas said.
“They’re counting pills for a reorder when the battalion gets here.”
“Battalion?” Bass asked, cocking his right eye.
“Tomorrow. The birds are already fragged. That means we’ve got to get everyone squared away.”
Jancowitz and Connolly nodded, having been through it before.Jacobs was scratching away in his notebook. “H-h-haircuts, Lieutenant?” he asked.
“Yes, Jake,” Mellas said, with just a tinge of sarcasm.
“With what? Our fucking K-bars?” Bass asked.
Jancowitz giggled. “I thought you fucking lifers just grew short hair.”
“You keep mouthing off,” Bass replied, “and I’ll cut yours with a goddamn E-tool and then shove it so far up your butt you’ll
be eating pussy with the blade.”
“I don’t see why in hell not,” Jancowitz replied, undaunted. “We manage to do everything else with our E-tools.”
“Rumor has it,” Mellas broke in, “that Cassidy managed to get some clippers from the arty people that’ll get passed around,
and they’ve got plenty of water, too. So everyone shaves. And about the shaving—no stashes unless you’re E-5 or above.”
“Bullshit, sir!” Jancowitz looked betrayed. “I’m a fucking squad leader and squad leaders can have stashes. It’s always been
that way.” He’d written to Susi about it.
“Janc, the word is E-5 and above.”
“No one can see yours now,” Bass said. “Why do you care?”
“I promise you I won’t go anywhere near the LZ. No one’ll see me.” He looked at Bass and Mellas. Neither one could help him.
“Cut off the stashes and get anyone who needs a haircut a haircut,” Mellas said quickly, giving no chance for rebuttal. “That’s
that. Who’s got the patrols tomorrow?” Connolly and Jacobs each raised a finger. “OK, I’ll be going with Conman. Bass will
be going with Jacobs.” Mellas outlined the patrol routes and together they targeted preparation fires by the artillery and
mortars. Mellas was good with maps, he knew it, and it didn’t
he’d probably fucked off back in the rear smoking dope. “You’ll just have to live with it, Mallory,” Mellas replied. “It’s
probably psychosomatic. We all get afraid of things and sometimes the body tries to keep us from doing them. You’ll just have
to get over it.”
“You’re saying it’s in my fucking head?” Mallory whined. His tone of voice was an accusation that lumped Mellas with all the
others who wouldn’t help. “I tell you it’s real, man. It fucking hurts me so I can’t hardly think.”
“Mallory, it’s psychosomatic. You’ll just have to get used to it. We can’t do anything for you. We tried.”
“Sheeit.” Mallory turned away, still holding the doctor’s note in his thin hand.
CHAPTER
THREE
T he battalion’s coming in tomorrow,” Fitch said tightly. “Let’s get ’em cleaned up.” A loud salvo from the arty battery exploded
behind them, making everyone flinch. “That means haircuts, shaves, the works. No mustaches unless they’re corporals or higher.
Big John Six’s orders.”
Mellas wearily walked back to the platoon. Hamilton saw him coming and shouted down to the holes below for the squad leaders.
Another salvo rocked the hill, obliterating all other sounds. He reached his hooch and sat down, staring blankly into the
fog. Eventually the three squad leaders arrived. Jancowitz, filthy, was still in his gear from a patrol. On his face, sweat
mixed with fine drops of precipitation. Connolly squatted down with his hands resting across his knees, Vietnamese style.
Jacobs, still nervous about his job as temporary squad leader, already had a green notebook and a ballpoint pen ready. The
next to arrive was Bass, breathing hard from chugging up the slope. He squatted on the ground, looking over toward Doc Fredrickson’s
hooch, annoyed because Fredrickson hadn’t made it to the meeting on time. “He’s up at the LZ with Senior Squid,” Mellas said.
“They’re counting pills for a reorder when the battalion gets here.”
“Battalion?” Bass asked, cocking his right eye.
“Tomorrow. The birds are already fragged. That means we’ve got to get everyone squared away.”
Jancowitz and Connolly nodded, having been through it before.Jacobs was scratching away in his notebook. “H-h-haircuts, Lieutenant?” he asked.
“Yes, Jake,” Mellas said, with just a tinge of sarcasm.
“With what? Our fucking K-bars?” Bass asked.
Jancowitz giggled. “I thought you fucking lifers just grew short hair.”
“You keep mouthing off,” Bass replied, “and I’ll cut yours with a goddamn E-tool and then shove it so far up your butt you’ll
be eating pussy with the blade.”
“I don’t see why in hell not,” Jancowitz replied, undaunted. “We manage to do everything else with our E-tools.”
“Rumor has it,” Mellas broke in, “that Cassidy managed to get some clippers from the arty people that’ll get passed around,
and they’ve got plenty of water, too. So everyone shaves. And about the shaving—no stashes unless you’re E-5 or above.”
“Bullshit, sir!” Jancowitz looked betrayed. “I’m a fucking squad leader and squad leaders can have stashes. It’s always been
that way.” He’d written to Susi about it.
“Janc, the word is E-5 and above.”
“No one can see yours now,” Bass said. “Why do you care?”
“I promise you I won’t go anywhere near the LZ. No one’ll see me.” He looked at Bass and Mellas. Neither one could help him.
“Cut off the stashes and get anyone who needs a haircut a haircut,” Mellas said quickly, giving no chance for rebuttal. “That’s
that. Who’s got the patrols tomorrow?” Connolly and Jacobs each raised a finger. “OK, I’ll be going with Conman. Bass will
be going with Jacobs.” Mellas outlined the patrol routes and together they targeted preparation fires by the artillery and
mortars. Mellas was good with maps, he knew it, and it didn’t
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