One Man's War (4 page)

“Brother, are you an ostrich with your head in the sand.” Shaking his own head, he looked both ways, then turned onto the asphalt of Highway 1. Gunning the jeep on the smooth road, he relaxed slightly, knowing there was less chance of VC attack on the highway, too.

Tess smiled absently and leaned back against the less-than-comfortable jeep seat. “So, will you get me the supplies as soon as we get to Marble Mountain?”

“Yeah, I suppose.”

“I'll go over and see Gib about a chopper flight back while you do that.”

“No, don't. I'll fly you back.”

Tess stared over at Pete in surprise. His mouth flat, the corners pulled in. “Thanks,” she said, meaning it.

“Yeah, don't mention it.”

“Maybe you're not such a bad guy after all.” Tess grinned. When Pete glanced over at her, he didn't look very happy. “And don't worry, as soon as I can, I'll have that glass of ice water with you at the O club.”

Heartened, Pete suddenly couldn't remember when he'd wanted anything quite so badly. He wanted to know a hell of a lot more about what made Tess Ramsey tick. She was a lone American woman in a Third World country, surrounded by escalating danger and hardened military men. But none of these things seemed to register with Tess. With a sigh, he realized that Tess wouldn't be in his arms tonight. He'd be spending time with her, albeit with him in the cockpit and her in the rear with the door gunner. Still, the hope in her eyes, the awe that he could finagle medical supplies for her, had won him some of her respect and approval, and Pete knew it.

* * *

It was early evening when they arrived back at the Marine Air Group at Marble Mountain. To Tess's disappointment, Gib was out on a helicopter flight, so she wouldn't be able to see him. Pete insisted that Tess walk with him over to the group of olive green tents, wood-backed and set on platforms to keep them above the sandy ground, that housed thousands of boxes of supplies for the base. She stood to one side as Pete corraled a marine gunny sergeant, a position she knew to be very powerful in the military system.

“Look, Gunny,” Pete cajoled, “I need a box of vaccines—all kinds—and a box of antibiotics for this pretty young lady here. She works with the villagers. What have you got for her?”

The gunny, a grizzled, lean man with sharp gray eyes, sized up Pete and then Tess. “What have you got for me, Captain?”

Grinning affably, Pete looked around the dark, silent reaches of the tent. “What do you need, Gunny? Name it, and it's yours.”

The gunny snorted. “How about a case of Johnnie Walker Red?”

“Done.” Pete thrust out his hand.

The gunny shook it, then gave him a wary look. “When am I gettin' it?”

“I gotta make a milk run down to Saigon next week. I'll pick it up and deliver it to you on my return. How's that sound?”

“Good,” the gunny growled.

Pete smiled triumphantly over at Tess as the marine sergeant disappeared between the aisles. “Well? What do you think?”

Tess shook her head, awed. “I think you're an angel in disguise.”

“Me? An angel?” Pete laughed deeply. “I've been accused by my ladies of being many things—a bastard, a devil, a swindler, a liar—but
never
an angel.”

Tess tilted her head and studied him in the tent's shadowy gloom. There was such a wall around Pete that she could almost feel it. Why? It was as if he wanted her to think the worst of him. What about the good he also carried within him? “That's quite a list of adjectives.”

“Yeah, well, the ladies were right. I'm not the nicest guy in the world.” Pete shook his finger in her direction. “And stop looking at me with those beautiful green eyes with the hope of the world in them. I'm a bastard. I make no bones about it. Life's short and I intend to play hard and work a little. I'm not an angel, Tess Ramsey, and don't you ever forget that.”

Sitting on the nylon seat in the rear of the Sikorsky helicopter on the way back to Le My, Tess held both precious cardboard boxes of medical supplies on her lap. Darkness had fallen, and all she could see in the reddish light from the cockpit display up front was the bare outline of Pete's helmeted head. He sat in the pilot's seat, his gloved hands busy with the controls, keeping the aircraft stable as they sped toward their destination. Night flights weren't a helicopter's strong point, Tess knew, although they often did fly in the murky darkness.

Pete had assured her that he could make this short hop blindfolded. Well, that was close to the truth. Tess's awe of him had risen a notch by the very fact he was willing to fly her back to the village. Knowing full well he could have refused, she rummaged around in her heart, trying to understand what made him run the way he did. He was an enigma. Verbally, he was telling her he was a bastard to every woman he'd met. Yet, he was flying a mission of mercy for her and the little girl. Of course she hadn't forgotten that Pete was probably counting on the chance to seduce her at a later date.

As the helicopter landed outside Le My, many of the children came running out to see it. Pete gave orders to his copilot, Lieutenant Joe Keegan, and his door gunner, Lance Corporal Jerry Random, to keep their eyes peeled for trouble in the form of roving VC while he escorted Tess into the village. Tess climbed out of the aircraft, her precious cargo cradled in her arms as the powerful blades whipped up dust and debris all around her. Pete unhooked his communications jack and, leaving his helmet on, climbed out of the front seat. Leaping down, he gripped Tess's arm and hurried her away from the buffeting wind.

The children ran alongside them, their voices high with excitement. Tess was wildly aware that Pete hadn't released her elbow as he shepherded her along the dirt path into the village. The air seemed charged with energy as he grinned down at her.

“See, I told you we'd get you here with no problem.”

“You've got eyes like a cat,” Tess agreed breathlessly.

“Here, let me help you.” Pete took one of the supply boxes and tucked it under his left arm. He looked around, feeling edgy. This flight wasn't authorized by anyone. He doubted Gib would have okayed it. Night flights were strictly planned, and little jaunts like this one were forbidden. Pete didn't trust the VC buildup he knew was taking place, either. If he got the helicopter shot up or one of his crew wounded, all hell would break loose and his career would go down the tubes.

In the village, some of the adults came out to see who had arrived. Tess halted at her hut and quickly moved the curtain aside. An old kerosene lamp sputtered in one corner, shedding meager light. On the grass mat the little girl still slept. Going over to her, Tess touched the child's brow.

“How is she?” Pete asked, kneeling next to Tess and opening the box of antibiotics.

“Terribly hot. Her temperature must be 102 or 103.”

Taking off his helmet, Pete set it aside. “Here, let me help.” He saw the worry in Tess's shadowed eyes, and the way her mouth was pursed to hold back her real reaction to the girl's deteriorating condition. Ripping off the top of the cardboard box, Pete located the antibiotics. “Start her with 500 milligrams of penicillin.”

“That's a heavy dose,” Tess protested.

“Yeah, but honey, you ain't got no choice.” He motioned to the little girl's foot. “Look at the red lines moving up her leg. The kid's got blood poisoning.”

“Oh, God...” Tess looked more closely. Her hands shook as she took the syringe and needle from Pete.

“Hey, relax. She's gonna make it. Just give her this shot, keep her cooled down with water, and by morning she'll be a lot better.”

Tess gave him an odd look. “Are you a doctor?”

Shyly, Pete shrugged. “Nah, I'm just the kind of bastard that knows a little about a lot of things. Go on, give her the penicillin.” Gently he turned the girl onto her side so that Tess could give the shot.

Relief cascaded through Tess afterward. Pete had also wrangled an entire box of syringes and needles, so she wouldn't have to keep boiling and using the old ones over again as she had in the past. “Thanks,” she murmured, her voice wobbly with feeling. “You really are a knight in shining armor to us.”

Pete snorted and slowly rose. “Don't go putting me on any pedestals, honey, I'll sure as hell fall off faster and quicker than you could ever believe. Listen, I gotta hoof it out of here. I don't like leaving my helo crew sitting ducks on the ground.”

Immediately, Tess stood. “I—thanks, Pete. Thanks so much....”

Gone was the brusque, hard-talking woman of this afternoon. In her place, Pete was privileged to see the real Tess. And sweet God, did he like what he saw. With a shrug he placed his hand on her shoulder. “It's nothing.”

“I don't call helping a little girl `nothing.'” There was such vulnerability in his eyes now. Tess felt her breath become suspended and her heart start to beat fast at the discovery. Pete's hand felt good, steadying her spinning emotions.

“Then,” Pete whispered, devilry dancing in his eyes, “I intend to collect for my good deed sooner or later.” The urge to lean forward those few inches and kiss the hell out of her parted, soft lips was almost Pete's undoing. But something cautioned him not to do it—at least, not yet. Patting her shoulder, he said, “I'll see you around, honey.”

He was gone. Tess stood in the center of the hut, the syringe still in her hand. Whatever powerful magic was at work made her feel dizzy and not of this world. Trying to shake off Pete's overwhelming presence, she turned and knelt down by the little girl. Tess's night would be spent bathing the child to keep her temperature down until the antibiotic took hold—if only it would. Some of Tess's hope diminished as she heard the helicopter take off, the heavy whap, whap of blades cutting through the humid air that always hung over Vietnam.

She began to gently bathe the girl, and her hope continued to erode as the last sounds of the helicopter bearing Pete Mallory back to Marble Mountain faded into nothing. It had been a crazy day in so many ways. Pete had crashed into her life, quite literally. Tess couldn't understand how his hard line toward women in general went with such a compassionate streak toward children. It didn't make sense.
He
didn't make sense.

Still, as she remained awake through the early morning hours, bathing the delirious child, Tess couldn't forget Pete. There had been moments when his eyes had revealed another side to him—and it was that side she wanted to know. Tess sighed. She'd already lost her innocence about life and men. Three years ago, she'd been engaged to Eric Hampton, a Peace Corps volunteer. So caught up with being in love, Tess had given herself—body, heart and soul—to him.

Tess struggled to shake off much-needed sleep to stay up with the girl. By 3:00 a.m., the child's temperature was beginning to drop. Relief shattered through Tess as she lay down and drew the girl into her arms. She closed her eyes, but sleep refused to come. Pete's unexpected entrance into her life had stirred up a lot of unsolved feelings toward Eric.

Eric had been the exact opposite of Pete: quiet, sincere and hardworking. Somehow, the engagement had fallen apart. What had gone wrong? Had it been her? Was she incapable of being loved? Or of knowing what love really was? Now Pete was saying he was a bastard, making no bones about it, and yet there was such a discrepancy between his words and his actions. Unable to figure it all out, Tess sighed again and gave the little girl a gentle squeeze, just to let her know she was loved and cared for.

Pete Mallory was a hunter with few morals or values when it came to women. The pain in Tess's heart widened as she broached the twilight zone between sleep and wakefulness. So how could she be drawn to him? How? Resolution wove with sleep as she surrendered to the security of the darkness. Under no circumstance would she allow herself to be manipulated. No way.

“M
an, things are getting bad out in the bush,” Pete's copilot, Joe Keegan, confided. The Sikorsky helicopter's blades were turning slowly, the engine already shut down. Pete finished flipping off the rest of the switches on his side of the cockpit and sat back in the uncomfortable seat, perspiration running down the sides of his face beneath his helmet. Sweat poured off him from the humidity that hung like a heavy, wet blanket around them twenty-four hours a day.

“Yeah,” Pete croaked, loosening the helmet strap. “Things are getting worse.” With a groan, he took the heavy helmet off, fresh air cooling him momentarily. Running his fingers through the wet hair plastered against his skull, he glanced back at the glum marine second lieutenant—a green twenty-three-year-old kid. This was the officer's first month in Nam and into what was known as the “bush,” a place where lives could be and were lost—especially to VC land mines and snipers. The war—and it was a dirty war, in Pete's opinion—was heating up daily.

Keegan glumly lifted his hand in farewell and exited out the right side of the Sikorsky, heading toward the flight shack to file their flight report.

Pete's gunner, Random, a red-haired marine lance corporal with dancing gray eyes, glanced over at him. “Want me to check for holes in the fuselage, Mr. Mallory? I know we took hits.”

“Go ahead. Just don't tell me how many you find.” Pete sat there, letting the shakiness pass before he attempted to move. His knees felt like jelly.

“You don't want to know?”

Pete shook his head. “No way.” He didn't want to know how close one of those bullets had come. The VC knew the man sitting in the right seat of a helicopter was the pilot, and they aimed for him first. He tipped his head back, closed his eyes and took in a ragged but deep breath, trying to still his pounding heart.

“It wasn't very groovy out there today,” Random added, just as shaken as Pete from the ground fire. “Hot LZ's are the armpits of the universe.”