those days. Fact is, the only adjectives any of us used back then were four-letter words. But that’s not who I am now, so I—”
“I understand, John. No need to explain. I’ve talked with a lot of vets and read a lot of books on Vietnam.”
“Well, I figured you’d understand,” John said. He stretched then started walking toward the doorway leading back to the kitchen.
Dave thought this might be a good time to remind him of something. “You mentioned something about wanting to offer me some kind of deal I’d find impossible to refuse?”
“That’s right, I did. How about I tell you that over some pulled pork sandwiches?”
Over the next ten minutes, John heated up some tasty pulled pork he’d taken from the refrigerator. He and Dave piled it high between slices of thick Texas toast, grabbed a bag of potato chips, refreshed their iced tea, and sat at a glass-topped dinette table in a little nook just off the kitchen. It had a great view of John’s patio. From this angle, Dave could also see a swimming pool, a guest cottage, and an elaborate garden beyond that.
The break seemed to do John some good. After a few bites of his sandwich, the intense emotions that came out as he told the war story had subsided. “So, what’d you think?” he said.
“An amazing story, but I’ve got to know what happens next. I’m guessing Hammer and Redman are the two war buddies you’ve talked about.”
John nodded as he chewed. When he swallowed, he said, “We stopped calling each other by our nicknames years ago, but we’ve stayed in touch pretty much ever since.”
“How’d things turn out for them after the war?”
“They’ve both done very well. Paul, the one we called Redman, is a retired high school principal. Lives over in Louisiana. Allan, or Hammer, is still working some, but he’s semiretired. He made a good deal of money in Dallas in the construction business.”
“So Redman’s leg, I mean Paul’s leg, did it heal up okay?” Dave took a quick bite of his pork sandwich.
John looked down at his. “I’ll tell you what, we’re not going to get very far with this lunch here if I have to keep talking and using my manners at the same time. I’ve had enough lunch meetings over the years to know, the one asking the questions gets to eat his food while it’s hot. You mind if I eat while I talk? I’m starving.”
“You go right ahead,” Dave said with his mouth half full.
“Paul’s leg healed up fine, no permanent damage. He bled a good bit that day, but the bullet didn’t hit any major arteries. He’d have eventually bled out if something wasn’t done, but he wasn’t hurt as bad as we’d thought. We were all just scared. Hard to think straight with mortars coming at you.” He swallowed and looked right at Dave. “We were all going to die that day. We’ve talked about it a number of times. One more mortar round and we’d have been blown to bits. And it was coming, there’s no doubt in our minds. That bullet in Paul’s leg would have been the least of his problems. Aaron saved our lives. I wouldn’t be here today if he hadn’t done what he did. None of us would.”
“Seems like he earned that medal for sure.”
“But there’s more.” He took a large bite, chewed a few moments. “See, we didn’t know it then, but Aaron was way worse off than Paul. His shrapnel wounds alone were far more serious than Paul’s leg. He had over a dozen pieces of metal stuck all up and down his right side and back. He’d tucked himself behind that big rock as best he could, but he was way too close when those mortars landed.” John sat back, looked off to the side, like he was seeing it right now. “But it was like . . . he just ignored the pain. Fought right through it. Here we were, cowering in the mud like scared little kids, and he just decided he wasn’t going to let those gooks get us.”
He shook his head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called them gooks. That’s just a name
“I understand, John. No need to explain. I’ve talked with a lot of vets and read a lot of books on Vietnam.”
“Well, I figured you’d understand,” John said. He stretched then started walking toward the doorway leading back to the kitchen.
Dave thought this might be a good time to remind him of something. “You mentioned something about wanting to offer me some kind of deal I’d find impossible to refuse?”
“That’s right, I did. How about I tell you that over some pulled pork sandwiches?”
Over the next ten minutes, John heated up some tasty pulled pork he’d taken from the refrigerator. He and Dave piled it high between slices of thick Texas toast, grabbed a bag of potato chips, refreshed their iced tea, and sat at a glass-topped dinette table in a little nook just off the kitchen. It had a great view of John’s patio. From this angle, Dave could also see a swimming pool, a guest cottage, and an elaborate garden beyond that.
The break seemed to do John some good. After a few bites of his sandwich, the intense emotions that came out as he told the war story had subsided. “So, what’d you think?” he said.
“An amazing story, but I’ve got to know what happens next. I’m guessing Hammer and Redman are the two war buddies you’ve talked about.”
John nodded as he chewed. When he swallowed, he said, “We stopped calling each other by our nicknames years ago, but we’ve stayed in touch pretty much ever since.”
“How’d things turn out for them after the war?”
“They’ve both done very well. Paul, the one we called Redman, is a retired high school principal. Lives over in Louisiana. Allan, or Hammer, is still working some, but he’s semiretired. He made a good deal of money in Dallas in the construction business.”
“So Redman’s leg, I mean Paul’s leg, did it heal up okay?” Dave took a quick bite of his pork sandwich.
John looked down at his. “I’ll tell you what, we’re not going to get very far with this lunch here if I have to keep talking and using my manners at the same time. I’ve had enough lunch meetings over the years to know, the one asking the questions gets to eat his food while it’s hot. You mind if I eat while I talk? I’m starving.”
“You go right ahead,” Dave said with his mouth half full.
“Paul’s leg healed up fine, no permanent damage. He bled a good bit that day, but the bullet didn’t hit any major arteries. He’d have eventually bled out if something wasn’t done, but he wasn’t hurt as bad as we’d thought. We were all just scared. Hard to think straight with mortars coming at you.” He swallowed and looked right at Dave. “We were all going to die that day. We’ve talked about it a number of times. One more mortar round and we’d have been blown to bits. And it was coming, there’s no doubt in our minds. That bullet in Paul’s leg would have been the least of his problems. Aaron saved our lives. I wouldn’t be here today if he hadn’t done what he did. None of us would.”
“Seems like he earned that medal for sure.”
“But there’s more.” He took a large bite, chewed a few moments. “See, we didn’t know it then, but Aaron was way worse off than Paul. His shrapnel wounds alone were far more serious than Paul’s leg. He had over a dozen pieces of metal stuck all up and down his right side and back. He’d tucked himself behind that big rock as best he could, but he was way too close when those mortars landed.” John sat back, looked off to the side, like he was seeing it right now. “But it was like . . . he just ignored the pain. Fought right through it. Here we were, cowering in the mud like scared little kids, and he just decided he wasn’t going to let those gooks get us.”
He shook his head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called them gooks. That’s just a name
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