Page 15 of Protecting the Flame

“S’right,” Burke said, easily. “But this is really not that bad, folks. Fly ’Nam, now…that was bad.”

“You in ’Nam?” Mattie’s grandfather stirred. “I was First Cav. Fought at la Drang. Didn’t ever meet Mel Gibson, though.”

“What?” Scott looked confused. “Mel Gibson fought in Vietnam?”

“No,” Will said. “He was in a movie that was based on a book about the battle. We Were Soldiers?”

Yes, she remembered that film, though she was partial to Sam Elliot. A pretty good movie but a much better book.The interesting thing about deployments and bases of any kind was the many war movies they did not show, probably for reasons of morale, although there was no shortage of the really old, ra-ra kick-butt flicks like Midway, The Longest Day, Patton. Even The Bridge Over the River Kwai. Anything where America won or was incredibly noble passed muster.

“I was based at Da Nang, mostly,” Burke said, “though I moved around a lot depending on the mission. Felt like I flew out of every base and outpost along the DMZ. Spent a fair amount of time in Camp Carroll, keeping Highway 9 clear, then flew a couple missions doing recon along the Yellow Brick Road.”

“What does The Wizard of Oz have to do with anything?” asked Mattie.

“It’s what we called the Ho Chi Minh Trail,” Grampa said.

“What’d you fly, Burke?” Will asked.

“These itty-bitty Bird Dogs.”

Emma hadn’t heard of those. “What’s a Bird Dog?”

“Cessna L-19,” Burke said. “Fixed-wing, all metal.”

“That’s a pretty small plane,” Will said.

“Like being toothpaste in a tube,” Burke said. “Listen to the Geneva Accords. We weren’t supposed to be in Laos or Cambodia at all. If Johnson hadn’t been so worried about stepping on toes, we’d have been there sooner. At least Nixon manned up to what needed to get done.”

“In secret. And in an undeclared war.”

“Look,” Burke said, “I’m not saying he was a prince, but it was war, you know? Besides, all those South Vietnamese guys were lining their pockets, and so were a lot of our people. Black market was big business. I knew one supply guy at a PX, took in cartons of cigarettes and bottles of Scotch and fancy perfumes by the front door and let them leave out the back door at twice the price where you’d find them on the black market for half what you’d pay at the PX. It got so you couldn’t walk down the streets without people trying to sell you American deodorant, shaving cream, Ritz crackers…even Spam, for God’s—”

“Hey, Dad,” Hunter interrupted. “The fuel gauge’s kinda twitchy. I think we’re sucking up a little air through the pump here. Want me to switch us to the belly tank?”

“That’d be good, Son.” To Will, “All I’m saying is, you wanted a lesson in making money on the down-low, Vietnam taught you how.”

“Must be a hard habit to break,” Will said. “Making money on the down-low.”

What? The sentence hung there for a beat too long, enough time for Emma to wonder if she’d missed something. She opened her mouth to say…well, what, she never exactly could recall…

Because, all of a sudden, both engines sputtered.

And died.

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