chapter 9
James Parish, MD hardly ever made it to Saigon anymore, not since his little epiphany, anyway.
Which came one night a few months after Tet, and not long after Callahan was sent packing.
It had been a rough night, with non-stop casualties arriving every fifteen minutes from C-Med's three forward aid stations. They'd been taking sustained fire all afternoon and into the evening, and yet the operational tempo just kept getting worse and worse. He'd been on his feet in the OR for so many hours he'd lost count, and he knew he had it bad when he went out expecting to find the noonday sun and found it was well past midnight.
Then real fighting flared-up around Hué City, and soon all the helicopters headed to Phu Bai began diverting to C-Med; before long the parade of Hueys became a nonstop torrent as word of a new offensive reached Parish and the other surgeons huddled in the OR. Then C-Med began taking fire.
Mortar rounds at first, then a first human wave going for the wire.
More mortar rounds, one just outside the main OR tent, hit inside the perimeter -- then something larger than a Huey came in low overhead and the tent started to come apart at the seams -- just as more rounds hit and the dirt from each new explosion began raining down on both the surgeons and their patients. Generators went offline and medics were holding flashlights over open chests, and Parish -- then trying desperately to resection a perforated bowel -- just felt the concussive heat of an explosion milliseconds before the blast-wave hit.
He was thrown across the OR and landed in something wet, but it was pitch black now -- wherever that was -- and then he realized he had absolutely no idea where 'that' was...
Someone tripped and fell on top of him -- which is probably what saved his life. Several Viet Cong stormed inside the tent just then and lay down a continuous barrage of fire, killing most of the doctors and all of the wounded inside...just before the noise level went up even more as several jets arced in, dropping napalm just outside the perimeter...providing cover for dozens of helicopters just arriving to offload reinforcements.
When help arrived Parish was found face down in an open belly, pinned under an overturned operating table, but he was alive. Barely, he knew, because his ears were ringing and that had to be a good thing.
He'd been hit in the thigh and had lost a lot of blood, but all he was aware of was someone cleaning his arm then starting an IV -- before he realized he was in a Huey, before he faded away inside an impossible new world.
When he opened his eyes, he saw the Constellation out an open door and watched the Huey flare over the stern of the carrier -- then he winced after the helicopter came down hard. More hands lifted the gurney and he could feel the heavy sea air washing over his soul -- and just as suddenly he knew he was going to die...
'What a waste,' he thought. 'All the things I could've done, the people I could've helped...'
He squinted as corpsmen muscled him through a hatch and then around densely-arrayed medical equipment, and he swallowed hard when he saw the huge domed surgical lights suspended from the ceiling.
"He's one of the docs from C-Med," he heard someone say. "A surgeon, I think. He was in the main tent."
"Jesus..." he heard another disembodied voice saying: "He's lucky to be here."
Then he saw a masked man leaning over, shining a light in his eyes. "Got a bleeder in your thigh, doc. We'll patch you up and get you on your way to Pearl..."
"So...this is it," Jim Parish thought. "This is what it feels like to die."
His eyes closed and that was that.
+++++
"So, you're Callahan," the woman stated matter-of-factly. "Heard you had a pretty fucked-up day."
Harry, trailing Frank and Cathy, had just walked up to Captain Bennett to stand behind the coals -- and to postpone the inevitable for as long as possible -- when Stacy Bennett sidled over to the brick grill.
"Yup," Harry said as leaned over and plucked an ice-cold Oly from the open tub of ice. "And who might you be?"
"Harry, say hello to Stacy. She's visiting for a few weeks, and try not to scare her too much, okay?"
Callahan blinked twice and scrunched-up his nose while he held out his right hand. "Howdy," he managed to say, but he was still scoping her out, trying to get a bead on her...and trying not to let first impressions run away screaming into the night...
"So," she began -- apparently wanting to dive right into the deep-end, "Sam tells me you nailed that Scorpio fucker today?"
Callahan nodded before he took a long pull from the beer, and then he tried -- unsuccessfully -- to stifle a huge burp.
Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked at Callahan, who turned away -- red-faced.
"Hey, bring it up again and we'll vote on it..." Stacy said, grinning. "That was impressive. Do that on all your first dates?"
The word registered and Harry turned -- wide-eyed -- and looked at Captain Bennett.
Who grinned and shrugged, kind of all at the same time, before looking away and turning a steak on the grill.
Harry was beginning to think this girl was into sports, like maybe she played linebacker for the Bears or the Packers, but he still hadn't figured her out yet -- and that bothered him. Too many mixed signals, he thought, so he reached into the tub of ice and plucked out a longneck and handed it over.
"Your turn," Callahan said, inexplicably throwing down a gauntlet.
She popped the cap with practiced ease and took the entire contents down in one go, then she leaned back a little and shook her head before letting it rip...
The Bennett's dog stopped dead in its tracks -- the hair on the back of its neck standing on end -- then it inched away from the eruption before turning and running into the house.
"Holy shit, Stacy," a stunned Captain Bennett muttered under his breath, "they heard that one over in Oakland..."
Callahan nodded in approval, then watched as she reached into the tub and handed him another bottle. He looked at Bennett -- who was shaking his head and trying not to smile -- then noticed Frank had just walked over with one of Bennett's boys in-tow.
He popped the top and guzzled it down, then pinched off his nose and hopped up and down a few times before letting his chin drop low, then...
...he opened his mouth just a little and let it begin...
It started as kind of a high-pitched tearing sound before Callahan formed a wider 'O' shape with his mouth, and this modulated the magmatic rumble somewhat -- before the main thrust burst across the back yard.
Neighbors stopped what they were doing in their backyards and looked up at the sky.
"Way to go, Callahan," Frank beamed. "That sounded just like a sewer main breaking in half."
"Smells like it, too," Captain Bennett growled, still shaking his head.
"So?" Callahan said, looking Stacy Bennett right in the eye. "You concede, or do we continue?"
"Uh, Harry," Frank said, coming to his side and taking him in-tow by the elbow, frog-marching him to the sidelines, "man, you gotta watch what you're doin' here. You get three or four beers in that one and you ain't gonna know what hit you."
"What do you mean?"
"Look, man, just don't do it... You're playin' with fire...know what I mean?"
"Uh, no...I don't."
Bullitt shook his head. "Okay man, but don't say I didn't warn you."
