Word of Honor by Nelson DeMille
Authors: Nelson DeMille
Tags: Fiction, General, LEGAL, Suspense, Mystery Fiction, War stories, Vietnam War; 1961-1975, Vietnamese Conflict; 1961-1975
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helping."
"Sorry . . . I was thinking." He lowered his head, eye level to the sugar cube tower. "I see the major damage-"
Marcy flicked her finger and the tower collapsed in a heap.
"Bitch." He swept the cubes to the side and blew away 80 0 NELSON DEMILLE
the sugar granules. "Do you want me to re-create the battle of Hue with sugar cubes?"
"Maybe in the morning."
"After reading Picard's book I know what happened." He quickly laid out a line of cubes. "This is the south wall of the Citadel. Okay? Each wall was two miles long. All right, the south wall abutted the north bank of the Perfume River-- He looked around, spotted the milk pitcher, and poured a stream of milk over the countertop. "That's the Perfume River. Pretend.
Okay, this is the canal-" He trailed his finger through the milk and formed a small tributary. "Okay, help me with the other three walls. Do you have any more sugar cubes? We have to build the Imperial Palace here, and construct the walled enclave in the northeast comer of the Citadel, where Picard had gotten himself trapped with the South Vietnamese soldiers.
That's over here. Three full battalions of the First Cav were approaching from the north. Their mission was to relieve the pressure on the Marines and ARVN---that's the South Viets-and to block escape routes to the north and interdict enemy supply and reinforcement attempts. Got it? This sugar tong and these two spoons represent the three cavalry battalions. Follow?
Okay, the tong is my battalion, the Fifth Battalion of the famed Seventh Cavalry. But my company was detached and we were more to the west. Here. My platoon was further detached and I was operating alone. Here. I was advancing along the north bank of the river. Hue was burning to my front.
Now this little fucking sugar cube is H6pital Mis6ricorde. Okay?" He looked at her. "Why aren't you building those walls?"
Marcy Tyson turned and went to the cabinet over the trash compactor. She retrieved a bottle of Grand Mamier and filled half a water tumbler. "Want one?"
"No thanks."
She noticed he had completed the four walls of the Citadel without her help. "Ben, cut it out. Seriously."
He looked up and his eyes found hers. He smiled and swept away the sugar cubes.
She let out a shallow breath. "Ready for bed?"
"Not yet. I was thinking . . . it must have been the neighbors. I mean the Life magazine picture. The media didn't
WORD OF HONOR 0 81
stumble on that by accident. You weren't even identified by name in the original caption."
Marcy swirled the orange liqueur around the glass. "Actually, Ben, I tipped them off. I was tired of you getting all the press."
Tyson smiled. "I thought a good PR person is supposed to stay out of the spotlight."
Marcy raised the glass to her lips. "Well, I have an ego, too." She drank.
"It had to be someone in town. But why would anyone do that? I mean, what is gained by dragging you into this mess?"
Marcy leaned back against the sink. "People are petty, envious, and nuts.
I thought everyone knew that."
"I thought you believed in the basic goodness of people. Brothers and sisters and all."
"I do believe in that. Sincerely and passionately. Nevertheless, an awful lot of people are flaming assholes." She finished her drink.
Tyson stared out the kitchen window. There was a light on in the bunroom of the Thompson house, and he could see their daughter Ginny, seventeen, parading around in her bra and panties. He saw a figure approach the sunroom. The French doors opened, and the figure entered. The lights went out.
Marcy glanced out the window. "Ginny?"
"Right. "
"Did you rendezvous like that when you were a horny little guy?"
"Damn right. I knew every backyard and fence in this town. "
Marcy laughed. "God, it was different in the city. We used to neck a little in the parks, and sometimes if it got serious we'd go to the roof of our building. The boiler room, in the winter. "
"Peasant." Tyson walked to the refrigerator and opened it. "This
"Sorry . . . I was thinking." He lowered his head, eye level to the sugar cube tower. "I see the major damage-"
Marcy flicked her finger and the tower collapsed in a heap.
"Bitch." He swept the cubes to the side and blew away 80 0 NELSON DEMILLE
the sugar granules. "Do you want me to re-create the battle of Hue with sugar cubes?"
"Maybe in the morning."
"After reading Picard's book I know what happened." He quickly laid out a line of cubes. "This is the south wall of the Citadel. Okay? Each wall was two miles long. All right, the south wall abutted the north bank of the Perfume River-- He looked around, spotted the milk pitcher, and poured a stream of milk over the countertop. "That's the Perfume River. Pretend.
Okay, this is the canal-" He trailed his finger through the milk and formed a small tributary. "Okay, help me with the other three walls. Do you have any more sugar cubes? We have to build the Imperial Palace here, and construct the walled enclave in the northeast comer of the Citadel, where Picard had gotten himself trapped with the South Vietnamese soldiers.
That's over here. Three full battalions of the First Cav were approaching from the north. Their mission was to relieve the pressure on the Marines and ARVN---that's the South Viets-and to block escape routes to the north and interdict enemy supply and reinforcement attempts. Got it? This sugar tong and these two spoons represent the three cavalry battalions. Follow?
Okay, the tong is my battalion, the Fifth Battalion of the famed Seventh Cavalry. But my company was detached and we were more to the west. Here. My platoon was further detached and I was operating alone. Here. I was advancing along the north bank of the river. Hue was burning to my front.
Now this little fucking sugar cube is H6pital Mis6ricorde. Okay?" He looked at her. "Why aren't you building those walls?"
Marcy Tyson turned and went to the cabinet over the trash compactor. She retrieved a bottle of Grand Mamier and filled half a water tumbler. "Want one?"
"No thanks."
She noticed he had completed the four walls of the Citadel without her help. "Ben, cut it out. Seriously."
He looked up and his eyes found hers. He smiled and swept away the sugar cubes.
She let out a shallow breath. "Ready for bed?"
"Not yet. I was thinking . . . it must have been the neighbors. I mean the Life magazine picture. The media didn't
WORD OF HONOR 0 81
stumble on that by accident. You weren't even identified by name in the original caption."
Marcy swirled the orange liqueur around the glass. "Actually, Ben, I tipped them off. I was tired of you getting all the press."
Tyson smiled. "I thought a good PR person is supposed to stay out of the spotlight."
Marcy raised the glass to her lips. "Well, I have an ego, too." She drank.
"It had to be someone in town. But why would anyone do that? I mean, what is gained by dragging you into this mess?"
Marcy leaned back against the sink. "People are petty, envious, and nuts.
I thought everyone knew that."
"I thought you believed in the basic goodness of people. Brothers and sisters and all."
"I do believe in that. Sincerely and passionately. Nevertheless, an awful lot of people are flaming assholes." She finished her drink.
Tyson stared out the kitchen window. There was a light on in the bunroom of the Thompson house, and he could see their daughter Ginny, seventeen, parading around in her bra and panties. He saw a figure approach the sunroom. The French doors opened, and the figure entered. The lights went out.
Marcy glanced out the window. "Ginny?"
"Right. "
"Did you rendezvous like that when you were a horny little guy?"
"Damn right. I knew every backyard and fence in this town. "
Marcy laughed. "God, it was different in the city. We used to neck a little in the parks, and sometimes if it got serious we'd go to the roof of our building. The boiler room, in the winter. "
"Peasant." Tyson walked to the refrigerator and opened it. "This
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