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256 pages, Mass Market Paperback
First published January 1, 1985
The peasants were the families of the Viet Cong. They had been hardened by years of war. They resented the American presence which threatened them. But they were men and women with basic rights of human beings and the requisite needs for security and justice. The fact that some of them might kill you or your soldiers was no reason to hate them or abuse them. This was war, this Vietnam involvement, and in war things tend to happen. But the commander was the link to order and civility, and he had to be humane. At the same time he had to be uncompromising to protect the lives of all. The job was not easy.
I knew that killing him would have been neither illegal nor immoral. It would have been “regrettable,” but nothing more. In an instant the insanity of war was revealed to me: people die or people live without rhyme or reason. As Nail had said when Flicker died, “That’s all there is to it.”
Ghouls in the night – young boys, really, from places like Valdosta, San Diego, Boulder, Madison, Portland, out to kill Asian boys who are out to kill them. The gears of war grind together unrelentingly, mechanisms in motion that will catch up human flesh as they mesh. Societies clash, politicians deal, diplomats debate, young men struggle to the death. Tomorrow or the next day, mothers will receive the news and cry. But nothing will stop the morning’s killing.
We touched in the darkness, peering into each other’s face: King, the man who had once fired at me, and I, the man who had held a rifle to his head. We were overjoyed to see each other.
“Sir, you’re killing him. You can’t do that” … A shiver ran down my spine, and I fought hard to control my voice as I gave the order to tie up our prisoner and to wake the men for the night attack I anticipated. I was once again the military leader, not a kill-crazed animal, although the realization how close the two can be was chilling.
Three days later I transferred Shives to the Ranger Company. We both concluded that he would do better as a ranger than as a medic. He was no longer fit to be a medic. He had become even more vicious of a killer than the rest of us, and for him it was unforgiveable. The war was bad enough. I could not tolerate it getting any worse.