____________________________
"I want to believe you are innocent, so I'm not going to lock you up tonight. But you have to turn in your weapons." The Colonel filled the pipe with fresh tobacco, searched for a match in his top pocket, scratched it on the table's surface until the flame flared bright and sucked the flame into the bowl of his pipe.
"I wanted you to know what they're accusing you of." Taking the pipe out of his mouth, he leaned toward Ethan. "Do you know why I believe in you, Card?"
"No, sir," Ethan replied.
"What?"
"No, sir," Ethan said louder with a voice that broke. Most of his life, trouble had followed him around and bashed him. That is until the Marines had given him a life he was proud of.
"Because you're a hero, and fucking heroes don't sell weapons to the Viet Cong. Because you saved my ass twice out in that jungle. Because you carried Gunny back, so he could be buried at home with honors. Cowards and traitors don't do that."
The Colonel stuck the pipe between his lips, and the apple-tobacco scent in the tent intensified.
The Colonel rested a hand lightly on Ethan's shoulder. "I wanted you to know what's going to happen. The army brass is going to put you through a laundry ringer. Stay tough, son. You're in deep shit, but let them know you didn't do it. I'm going to stand by you. We'll show them that the Corps takes care of their own." He patted Ethan's shoulder, then withdrew his hand. "You're one tough bastard, and you can do this." He paced the dirt floor of the tent, turned and retraced his steps.
Without looking at Ethan, he said, "Get something to eat. I told the cook to keep some food warm. There's a piece of the apple pie that he baked for me. I told him to save it for you." He turned, a smile creasing his dark, leathery complexion. "Go, and after you eat, sleep. Remember, I believe you didn't do it. Your eyes are telling me all kinds of things, but they are not saying you are guilty. If I thought you were, you'd be going to Da Nang in a fucking body bag."
Ethan got up jerkily. He hated Ortega. That man was the worst kind of bastard. Maybe he should kill him before morning.
"Wait," the Colonel said. He held his pipe in one hand and jabbed the stem toward Ethan. "Do you have a Vietnamese woman you've been seeing?"
"Yes, sir."
"You can get busted for that sort of thing, Card. That was a mistake. ARVN agents are looking for her. They're going to pick her up and ask her questions, and our intelligence says she is Viet Cong. Did you know that?"
"No, sir." At first, he wondered why he had lied; then realized that if he told the Colonel the truth, Tuyen might be taken to the ARVN POW prison near China Beach that much sooner. He wanted to warn her first—to protect her.
The Colonel shook his head. "Kids," he said. "Go eat that pie." The Colonel patted him on the shoulder again and Ethan was too numb to feel it. "You'll be okay, Card. We'll figure a way to beat this fucking shit."
"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." Outside the tent, a gentle breeze caressed his face, and he started to shake. He stumbled around the side of the tent and leaned against the sandbags.
_________________________
§ “Running with the Enemy” was awarded an Honorable Mention in General Fiction at the 2103 San Francisco Book Festival
§ Discover a new world of Publishing–-the 2013 San Francisco Book Festival Event held on May 18 at the Sir Francis Drake Hotel in SF.
