Lucky, Vietnam, 1968
“Hey Lucky,” Ken said, taking a seat at the bar next to the man.
Lucky looked over and smiled before finishing off his beer. The bartender walked over, drew a fresh mug for Lucky and put it down as she picked up Lucky’s empty.
“How are you, Ken?” she asked, stepping over to him.
“Good,” he grinned. “How are you, Lily?”
“Good,” she smiled back. “What’ll you have?”
“Jamison.”
“Running a tab tonight?”
Ken nodded.
“Sounds good,” she said, and got him the whisky. She slipped away after he said thanks and Ken looked over at Lucky. Lucky was picking at a bowl of mixed nuts, drink in the other hand and glancing up at the tv mounted in the right corner above the bar.
Ken looked up and saw an ad for some Viet Nam war flick. Hueys came in low to the LZ and just as they started deploying troops the commercial ended. Ken knocked back his whisky, put the glass on the bar and said, “I always look for my Dad in pictures like that.”
“Movies?” Lucky asked.
“No,” Ken said, “just any Viet Nam footage when the crew-chiefs are hanging out the sides.”
“Was your dad a crew-chief?” Luck asked, finishing his beer. A moment later he had a fresh beer and Ken a fresh whisky.
“Yes he was,” Ken answered.
“Huh,” Lucky chuckled. “So was I.”
“In Viet Nam?”
“Oh yes. In Viet Nam.” Lucky shook his head. “In Viet Nam.”
“When were you in?” Ken asked.
“Sixty-seven to eight,” Lucky answered. “Drafted into the Army. Hell of a place. Viet Nam.”
Ken nodded. “My Dad always says that he was sure that he was going to die there.”
“Lots of us were sure of that,” Lucky agreed. “Don’t believe any of the movie, ‘we’re going to make it’ shit. They used to tell us that the VC didn’t have rockets, next thing we knew we’d be taking small arms and rocket fire as we brought the gunships in. When that happens” Lucky said, pausing to drink, “you figure that you’re going to be hamburger in a rice paddy sooner rather than later.”
Lily came over and got Lucky a fresh beer. “Another whisky?”
Ken shook his head. “Just a Sam Adams.”
Lily nodded, drew him his beer and left the men to their conversation.
“You know,” Lucky continued, “they don’t tell you about the fucked up shit either.”
“Like what?”
Lucky smiled and looked over at Ken. “Like what? Well, for one thing, they didn’t tell you about the ROKs.”
Ken frowned.
“Korean troops. Marines mainly,” Lucky said, nodding to himself. “Took a bird out to a ROK post to drop off supplies and pick-up an advisor whose appendix had burst. There was a path that ran from the LZ to the ROK commander’s bunker. It was lined with VC heads.”
“Damn,” Ken said softly.
“Yup.” Lucky took a drink. “Some of the heads were fresh. Some weren’t. That wasn’t too bad. Hell, my father fought in World War Two and told me some things you’ll never see in a Tom Hanks movie.”
Ken nodded in agreement.
“Anyway,” Luck said, “what bothered me the most when I got in-country was the first mission I had to fly with ARVN.” Lucky shook his head.
“Now listen,” he said, looking hard at Ken. “Not all of the ARVN were useless. Oh no, far from it. It all depended on their NCOs and officers. Just like any other army. I’d fly other ARVNs, Mikes, even a few Kit Carsons, all of them squared away and ready to rock. But my first group of ARVNs, my very first group,” Lucky shook his head. “No, those little bastards were squirrely. They’d spent half the morning looking for their officer, and he’d screwed when he found out we were dropping them in deep.
“That was when Captain Rogers, he was my pilot, said, ‘Lucky, when we get about ten feet above the LZ out there, I want you to grab the closest one and throw him the fuck out of the bird. Got it?’” Lucky grinned. “I couldn’t believe what the Captain was telling me. ‘Throw them out?’ I asked.
“’Right the fuck out,’ he’d said. ‘If you don’t throw that first one out,’ he said, ‘they’ll get the idea that they won’t have to get off of the bird. But if you throw that first fucker out, they’re all going to follow. No shame when they all sit together and say no,’ he’d said, ‘but to stay on the bird after one’s out? Nope. That won’t fly.’”
Lucky finished the beer and Lily had another ready before he put the empty on the bar. Looking at the fresh beer Lucky smiled softly.
“The LZ we brought that ARVN squad to was hot. Not red hot, maybe a five on the sphincter scale, but still, we were taking fire. I put some rounds down as we made our approach and the other bird with us did the same. A look over at the ARVN showed me that none of those fuckers wanted to get off.
“Hell,” Lucky said, “I didn’t want to be there either. Fucking bird’s a bullet magnet, but the sixty even more so.” Lucky sighed, shaking his head.
“Anyway, we got to about ten feet and I grabbed the closest yellow bastard and threw him out. Next minute, as the bird was just about to put her skids down, the rest of them were out and hauling ass to the tree line.” Lucky smiled dreamily, taking a sip.
Ken drank his own beer, sitting quietly.
Lucky blinked, his eyes losing their faraway look. He grinned at Ken. “No,” he said, drinking half of his beer in one long swallow, “they don’t tell you about the fucked up shit at all.”