Thanks to Doc, Mel and
witchbaby for letting me know this story worked and for encouraging me
to keep on writing. And to Mel for the wonderful beta job she always
does for me. This is written as my Christmas gift to Mel and witchbaby.
Merry Christmas to the both of you.'
Note: song quoted here -
Lay Down (Candle in the Rain) as performed by Melanie with the Edwin
Hawkins Singers. Written by Melanie Safka.
'Myron rode in the back of
the deuce and a half with the rest of his men as they returned to Camp
Barnett. McKay was driving with Percell riding up front with him. And on
the floor at their feet, wrapped in a poncho, was PFC Wills, the kid who
got killed yesterday because he was picking flowers for Lieutenant
Susanna Lozada.'
'Yesterday, they had all
been laughing, playfully nudging each other and singing songs. They were
looking forward to sharing dinner at the orphanage. They had candy
stuffed in their pockets and gaily wrapped packages to give to the kids.
Instead, they arrived with the gift of gunfire and fear, and a dead
soldier who would never see another Christmas again.'
'You're so close,
there was no room'
We bled inside each other's wounds
We had all caught the same disease
We all sang the songs of peace.''
'Myron watched the scenery
slip by as the truck rattled and bumped down the road on the way back to
Barnett. It was Christmas Day in Vietnam, and no one was celebrating,
not even the children.'
'No one was laughing now.
Instead they all sat on alert, swaying to the motion of the truck,
rifles ready. The good-natured teasing and story telling was now
replaced with a stony silence. As Myron glanced back into the truck, he
met with Hockenbury's haunted eyes.'
'Myron had no answers for
the medic. Or for Ruiz's friend, Susanna. A piece of all of them had
been taken away yesterday. Another piece that Vietnam took with selfish
bloody hands and made no apologies for.'
'Lay down, lay down,
lay it all down. '
'Christmas was supposed to
be a time of gentleness and wonder. Of childlike innocence for one and
all.'
'There was no gentleness
yesterday. Or wonder. The children of St. Mary's Orphanage were denied
even the briefest moments of innocence in the face of the war. The
parents of the young man at Myron's feet would have it stripped away
from them forever. And as soldiers, maybe they were never meant to have
it to begin with.'
'So raise the candles
high!
Oh you know we could stay black against the night!'
'There was a numbness that
touched at the edges of his thoughts. A bleakness he was finding harder
to defend himself against, the reasons why becoming more obscure.'
'Every day another piece
of himself was lost or destroyed. He lost a piece with each kid who died
under his command. With each letter he wrote home to the parents. A
piece was destroyed with the abortion of a child he should have shared
with Nikki; another ripped from him when Nikki walked away without
looking back. There was Bellar, Phu-an and his father's news. And Alex's
death...'
'So raise them higher
again!
And if you do we could stay dry against the rain!'
'They all had lost pieces
of themselves. Yesterday was no exception. Myron could see it in the
emptiness of Hockenbury's and Susanna's eyes. He could hear it in
McKay's words to Sister Bernadette before they left. He could feel it
with Ruiz in the set of the other man's shoulders as he watched the
jungle slip past them along the road.'
'Lay down, lay down,
lay it all down.'
'Without looking, Myron
knew Anderson was watching him. He could feel the sergeant's concern all
the way across the truck and he knew what he would see if he were to
return Anderson's look.'
'But he wasn't sure he was
ready for Anderson's sympathy or understanding. In truth, he wasn't sure
he could ever be. There had been another piece of himself lost when he
looked up a few months ago to find Anderson staring at him from across
the compound when the other man should have remained home, safe in the
States.'
'All of Zeke's
understanding and sympathy could not change what had happened yesterday.
Nor take the responsibility away that was Myron's. Anderson did his best
to help shoulder what he could, but in the end, Myron knew he had to
stand on his own two feet. Some days it was just harder than others.'
'Some days, the missing
pieces threatened to overwhelm him and he found himself staring at an
empty scotch bottle, the taste old and bitter in his mouth. And the war
was still there on the other side of the screen door of his hootch. He
tried not to be afraid of what he was becoming as more pieces were taken
away.'
'He was afraid of what
would happen when there were no more pieces left to take. Would he go
home then? Would there be enough of himself to take home, or would he
find himself one day wandering the city streets, a shell of someone
people once knew?'
'The pieces were
scattered, sharp and broken. Like the empty scotch bottle dropped
carelessly on the floor.'
'Some came to sing.
Some came to pray.'
'The truck had made it to
the camp without further incident. Myron could hear McKay talking to
someone and the answering reply. He didn't pay attention to the words,
just let the voices drift by him unheeded. The truck then lurched
forward with a noisy grinding of gears, McKay swearing loud enough for
everyone to hear in the back. Christmas music blared over the loud
speakers. "I'll Be Home for Christmas," a thick irony over the
roar of the truck's engine. The truck rolled through the gate and across
the compound.'
'Some came to keep the
dark away.'
'Myron finally looked up
and met with Anderson's gaze. Met with the concern and the
understanding. And the sorrow of what had happened the day before.
Anderson looked tired. There was no mischief dancing in those blue eyes.
There was instead an emptiness that Myron couldn't answer. Only
understand. Understand that Zeke was also losing pieces of himself.'
'You're so close, there
was no room.
We bled inside each other's wounds.'
'Myron would give
everything he had, everything that was left of himself if he could give
the pieces back to this man. If only he could do this. If he could have
one Christmas wish in the middle of this entire mess, it would be to
give Anderson back the impossible.'
'We had all caught the
same disease.
We all sang the songs of peace.'
'But it wasn't his to
give. No more than it was Zeke's to give Myron back the parts of himself
he had lost along the way.'
'The truck halted at last
in front of Graves Registration. Taylor unlatched the tailgate before
jumping down, followed by Ruiz. Hockenbury then handed the silent
Susanna down as McKay and Percell came back to help with the body that
still lay on the floor. Myron helped Zeke slide the dead boy across the
truck bed to the waiting hands that then took him.'
'Anderson jumped down
before reaching back and grabbing his web gear and rifle. Weary beyond
words, Myron simply sat down on the edge of the open tailgate, rifle
across his lap. He wasn't ready to go back to his hootch. He wasn't
ready to write Wills' parents. To explain that they had lost their son
in a Godforsaken country, fighting in a thankless war on Christmas Eve
day.'
'He was afraid there
wasn't enough of him left to write the letter. "God Rest Ye Merry
Gentlemen" drifted over the thick air.'
'Lay down, lay down,
lay it all down.'
'"It's not your
fault, L-T."'
'"I know, Sergeant.
It wasn't Wills' fault, or McKay's or Sister Bernadette's, either."
Myron shook his head. "But it's Christmas and Wills is dead."'
'"It ain't right, I
know."'
'No, it wasn't. But what
was in this war?'
'"I'm sorry." It
was all Myron had to offer. There wasn't anything else left.'
'We bled inside each
other's wounds.'
'"Don't get lost in
this, L-T. I know Wills died, but ya can't get lost in it." Zeke
placed a warm hand on Myron's shoulder. "There're still things that
matter, that are worth believin' in." Myron glanced up and let
himself get captured in Zeke's concern. "Don't lose sight of what's
still important."'
'"It's not always
easy, Sergeant."'
'"I know that, sir.
'N' especially today, with what happened. But ya haveta set it aside,
L-T. Ya just gotta let it go."'
'Myron had no defenses
against this man who offered his friendship and respect without
reservation. As much as he believed he had to stand on his own two feet,
Anderson was always there to help him get back up when he stumbled.'
'Some came to keep the
dark away.'
'Every day, Myron lost a
little bit more of himself. But in exchange, he had friendship. Zeke's
friendship. And it was a piece he would never lose, just as Zeke would
never lose his. It was something to believe in, something to hold onto
when nothing else could possibly make sense.'
'Lay down, lay down,
lay it all down. '
'Zeke extended his hand,
in support, respect and friendship and Myron reached back, gripping it
with the same strength as he jumped down from the truck and stood before
the other man.'
'Myron once heard his
father say that the measure of a man is found in the quality of the
friends he keeps. In this moment, Myron could think of no higher praise
or greater gift to receive at Christmas than the gift of Zeke's
friendship.'
'So raise the candles
high!
Oh you know we could stay black against the night!
So raise them higher again!
And if you do we could stay dry against the rain!