cafeteria line, and I finished before either of the men.
"What did Tony mean about you guys hauling heavy equipment?
You are pilots, I gather?"
"Yes, ma'am, " Tommy Dean said.
"Fixed-wing?"
"Goodness no."
"What do you fly, then? Cobras? Hueys? I rode in a Chinook when I first got here. The guys up at Phu Bai had us up for a party. Boy, are those things noisy."
"Honey, you ain't seen nothin' yet," jake said proudly.
"You seen anything flyin' around in the air looks a little like a big grasshopper?" Tommy Dean asked.
"Well . . . I can't say as-"
"You'd know if you'd seen it. It's a flying crane. Looks a little like this." He pulled a pen from one of his zippered pockets and drew a picture that did indeed appear to be the product of a marriage between a helicopter and a grasshopper.
I examined the picture, wondering if this might be another one of those strange in-country jokes to impress newcomers and girls. Finally I handed it back and asked, "Why in the world would anybody build a chopper that looks like that?"
"It's a flying crane, Kitty," Jake said, and then, of course, I understood. I had been associating the word "crane" with the bird, or with the long, spindly legs of the Disney version of the Ichabod Crane who saw the headless horseman in Sleepy Hollow. Jake eagerly pointed out the features of his aircraft to me. "This space under here is for a cable to haul cargo. Watch the air sometime. You may see one carrying a tank or another chopper." His face lapsed into an expression of almost paternal fondness as he spoke.
"Aw, seein' it from the ground is nothin' compared to watchin' something swinging from its belly."
"I can imagine," I said honestly, because I was by now as intrigued as it is possible for me to be by a piece of machinery.
"If you'll come over for that party Tony was talking about, maybe we can take you for a ride," jake said.
"I'm changing wards right now," I told them and found my voice was a little unsteady at the reminder. "I don't know my schedule."
"That's okay, honey," jake said, patting my hand. He obviously mistook the hint of distress in my tone for disappointment that I wouldn't be able to make an immediate date to acquaint myself with the ungainly object that was the current love of his life. "The cranes will be there when you can make it over. And there'll be other parties. Don't worry.
The talk turned to their families again, then, abruptly, Tommy Dean ducked out to see if the sergeant they'd ridden over with was done with his carousing at the NCO club. "Is he okay?" I asked.
"Oh sure, honey. just a little homesick. You know, I don't think you realize how much it means to him-to both of us-to have you come over and talk to us for a while." He stopped looking at me for the first time that evening and studied his fingernails, and the ceiling fan, and took great interest in the comings and goings of the waitresses. "Now, I'm not sayin'we wouldn't either one of us take somethin' if we could get it, if you know what I mean, but mostly we are happily married men. I miss my wife like hell. It feels so good to be able to talk to a woman without, you know, havin' to use sign language all of the goddamn time."
It was my turn to study my fingernails. I couldn't find the right expression to let him know how good it was to talk to men who didn't treat me like a servant (the doctors), a police woman (most of the enlisted men), or a piece of ass.
"If you guys have a jeep, would you mind dropping me off at the PX gate so I can hitch back to the hospital?" I asked.
They insisted on taking me all the way back to the 83rd, of course, and kept me laughing all the way. I was hoping one or the other of them would mention something else about Tony, but they didn't, though Jake reminded me of the party.
I felt pretty good until the jeep drove out of sight and I turned to walk past the sign that said "Welcome to Hell's Half Acre."
Beyond the gate, floodlights from the guard
"What did Tony mean about you guys hauling heavy equipment?
You are pilots, I gather?"
"Yes, ma'am, " Tommy Dean said.
"Fixed-wing?"
"Goodness no."
"What do you fly, then? Cobras? Hueys? I rode in a Chinook when I first got here. The guys up at Phu Bai had us up for a party. Boy, are those things noisy."
"Honey, you ain't seen nothin' yet," jake said proudly.
"You seen anything flyin' around in the air looks a little like a big grasshopper?" Tommy Dean asked.
"Well . . . I can't say as-"
"You'd know if you'd seen it. It's a flying crane. Looks a little like this." He pulled a pen from one of his zippered pockets and drew a picture that did indeed appear to be the product of a marriage between a helicopter and a grasshopper.
I examined the picture, wondering if this might be another one of those strange in-country jokes to impress newcomers and girls. Finally I handed it back and asked, "Why in the world would anybody build a chopper that looks like that?"
"It's a flying crane, Kitty," Jake said, and then, of course, I understood. I had been associating the word "crane" with the bird, or with the long, spindly legs of the Disney version of the Ichabod Crane who saw the headless horseman in Sleepy Hollow. Jake eagerly pointed out the features of his aircraft to me. "This space under here is for a cable to haul cargo. Watch the air sometime. You may see one carrying a tank or another chopper." His face lapsed into an expression of almost paternal fondness as he spoke.
"Aw, seein' it from the ground is nothin' compared to watchin' something swinging from its belly."
"I can imagine," I said honestly, because I was by now as intrigued as it is possible for me to be by a piece of machinery.
"If you'll come over for that party Tony was talking about, maybe we can take you for a ride," jake said.
"I'm changing wards right now," I told them and found my voice was a little unsteady at the reminder. "I don't know my schedule."
"That's okay, honey," jake said, patting my hand. He obviously mistook the hint of distress in my tone for disappointment that I wouldn't be able to make an immediate date to acquaint myself with the ungainly object that was the current love of his life. "The cranes will be there when you can make it over. And there'll be other parties. Don't worry.
The talk turned to their families again, then, abruptly, Tommy Dean ducked out to see if the sergeant they'd ridden over with was done with his carousing at the NCO club. "Is he okay?" I asked.
"Oh sure, honey. just a little homesick. You know, I don't think you realize how much it means to him-to both of us-to have you come over and talk to us for a while." He stopped looking at me for the first time that evening and studied his fingernails, and the ceiling fan, and took great interest in the comings and goings of the waitresses. "Now, I'm not sayin'we wouldn't either one of us take somethin' if we could get it, if you know what I mean, but mostly we are happily married men. I miss my wife like hell. It feels so good to be able to talk to a woman without, you know, havin' to use sign language all of the goddamn time."
It was my turn to study my fingernails. I couldn't find the right expression to let him know how good it was to talk to men who didn't treat me like a servant (the doctors), a police woman (most of the enlisted men), or a piece of ass.
"If you guys have a jeep, would you mind dropping me off at the PX gate so I can hitch back to the hospital?" I asked.
They insisted on taking me all the way back to the 83rd, of course, and kept me laughing all the way. I was hoping one or the other of them would mention something else about Tony, but they didn't, though Jake reminded me of the party.
I felt pretty good until the jeep drove out of sight and I turned to walk past the sign that said "Welcome to Hell's Half Acre."
Beyond the gate, floodlights from the guard
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