By What is Sure to Follow Read online

  A ringing sound in the distance caught his attention. He turned his head slowly toward it. His mental fog slowly abated. The sound became known; it was the phone next to his bed ringing.

  He reached for it.

  “Hello,” he said in reflex as he put the phone to his ear. His mind heard unintelligible noise. He shook his head, and cleared his throat. The noise continued; slowly it turned into words.

  “Luke, is that you?” the voice repeated.

  “Yeah. Who are you?” said Luke in a daze.

  “Rinke, Randy Rinke–down at the Vet Center.”

  “Oh, uh huh,” replied Luke. He turned and looked at the clock.

  It was 9:40 a.m. He swung around and sat on the edge of the bed, still holding the phone but not speaking.

  “Tuesday at 10 a.m...That’s the 17th. Can you make it?”

  More silence as Luke rubbed his face.

  “I took the liberty of scheduling you an appointment at the VA hospital, Luke. They need to do some more tests. After last night I think its best. As soon as they can see you is next Tuesday.”

  After a slight pause, Luke replied, “Yea, I guess so. Let me get some paper and write it down.” Rinke repeated the date and time.

  “Another thing,” said Rinke in a worried voice. “Could you come down to the center this morning? I need to fill in some history in your file.”

  “When?” said Luke, now fully awake.

  “As soon as possible. I’ve got a full schedule this afternoon.”

  “Okay. I’ll take a shower and be there in about thirty minutes.”

  “See you shortly,” said Rinke as he hung up.

  Luke still held the phone in his hand as he realized both he and his bed were soaking wet. He took a deep breath, more a sigh than anything else. He wrinkled his nose; the pungent smell of his own sweat assailed him head on, and he remembered. The dream.

  ****

  “You still working at the university as a janitor?” asked Rinke. Luke was seated in the chair next to Rinke’s desk at the Vet Center. Bright sunshine entered the room from a window nearby.

  “Yeah. Only four nights a week now,” replied Luke with a nod, happy to have a safe topic to discuss. “I work night shift, from ten ‘til about two in the morning. And right now I’m taking two classes during the day: Anthro 407 and Econ 302. The rest of the time I spend at the gym working out. They offer martial arts classes too so I’m able to stay in shape just as if I was in the service, or at least almost. Been doing that since I got out.”

  “I wondered why the rest of the group last night looked, shall I say a bit out of shape, and you look trim and fit like you’re still in the service.”

  “I’ve got nothing else going on so I go to the gym.” Luke flexed his arm briefly to show his developed muscle and gave a lame grin.

  “I see. How long you been coming here for counseling?”

  “Off and on since ’75 when they opened. Pretty steady for the last four or five years, I guess.”

  “Your records show that for the first couple of years after your discharge you had outpatient status up at Balboa Naval Hospital. And then you were assigned to the VA hospital after it opened up in La Jolla. Is that right?”

  “Yeah. I guess I was one of the first vets to get to see La Jolla when it opened. Nice place. Lousy service though.” Luke smiled slightly.

  “Uh huh. Ok. I guess I’ve got the records straight now. Tell me about last night.”

  “What’s to tell? Sometimes I remember. That’s all. Usually I’m alone when it happens. I just wait for it to pass. Then I’m all right. Last night you guys saw it. So...”

  “Do you remember what happened?” said Rinke, deliberately in a soft voice.

  “Sure. I just flashed on one of the scumbag missions we drew where we had to take a bunch of green grunts–cherries–along. It was a pain. That’s all. It was the first time I’ve thought about that shit since I left country.”

  “You say you’re usually alone when this happens, huh?” Rinke spoke matter of factly. Then, while watching Luke closely, he scribbled a note in Luke’s file.

  “Until this time I’ve always been alone,” responded Luke. He didn’t feel comfortable and tried to change the subject. “Maybe I should just layoff the meetings for a few weeks, Doc. You know, let things get back to normal.”

  “I don’t know, Luke. I’m concerned about last night. What happened needs attention. That’s why I’ve scheduled the meeting with Dr. Sullivan up at VA. What do you think?” He stared hard at Luke.

  Luke felt his stare and began squirming in the comfortable chair. Nervously, he glanced around the room. Seeing the effect he had on Luke, Rinke broke his stare by pretending to take further notes.

  “They don’t do anything up there but talk,” Luke said loudly without warning. Rinke looked up with a jerk. “At least here I can talk to someone who was there. Someone who knows. That helps. If you say so I’ll go, but I think it’s useless.” Luke looked helpless, resigned to the ordeal.

  “I think its best Luke, really.” Rinke put aside the clipboard in one smooth motion and softened his look. “Maybe they’ll prescribe something that will make the nightmares go away. Wouldn’t that help?”

  Luke shook his head no. “I don’t think so. Last time the drugs made me into a zombie. Fuckin’ bad stuff.”

  “That was several years ago, Luke. New drugs are out now. Maybe they can help.”

  “I hope so,” replied Luke. “Anything that can help put the dreams into the past, I’ll try. I can’t stand the total exhaustion they dump on me afterwards. Yeah. I’ll go see the man.” Inside, Luke didn’t believe anyone could help remove the terrible dreams that haunted him.

  Three restful nights followed his meeting with Rinke. The intervening days proved to be good also, resulting in Luke being in an exceptionally good mood. Even his boring college classes left him with a smile on his face.

  On the third morning when he awoke, he found his mood dismal. He was again on edge for no apparent reason. During the remainder of the day, the stress mounted hourly. At work that night, Luke mechanically performed the cleaning chores required of him and was glad when quitting time came. All he wanted was another restful night’s sleep. He felt exhausted. Yet as he entered his apartment, he somehow knew the rest he so desperately sought would be denied him.

  To help sleep come, he grabbed a tall beer from the fridge. He downed it quickly as he prepared for bed. It was his usual method of sedating himself for sleep. Tonight it didn’t work. Instead he found himself tossing and turning for what seemed like hours. Finally, as the darkened edge of sleep overtook him, his dream world consumed him once again.

  ONCE MORE LUKE WAS ON PATROL. The night was unusually dark. Even though it made observations difficult, he studied the area in front of him. The moonless night had begun to fade with the slow approach of morning. Then, for no apparent reason, the darkness seemed to prevail again, refusing to give up control of the landscape. Typical monsoon season, Luke thought with a nod of his head. He quickly disregarded the soft patter of rain on his poncho liner and again began to study the wet landscape below.

  Another storm had settled in, following closely on the heels of a drenching rain that had lasted for weeks. This storm too brought with it impenetrable low clouds, closely clinging to the hillside and the valley below. A fine, soaking mist enveloped everything in sight, adding more moisture to the already soaked landscape. He ignored the smell of mildew and rotting vegetation that filled the air.

  Luke watched as nebulous clouds swirled slowly through the area on lost air currents, causing the dim early morning light to fade in and out. The result: strange and sometimes threatening images appeared and disappeared, almost magically, as if they were real– when in fact they were nothing more than trees, bushes and their shadows on the lower hillside and meadow. For a fleeting moment, as the fog continued to roll amongst the trees and shrubs in front of him, Luke felt like he was viewing a lush park-like setting back
home; then it was gone.

  By anybody’s standards it was a miserable morning–not even animals were stirring. Enduring the rain, however, was the easy part of the job that brought him to this steep hillside. Covered with thick vegetation and almost impossible to traverse, the hillside was the most unlikely place for someone to be, especially now under these conditions, but that was exactly why he was here. The hillside offered one major advantage; it was an excellent vantage point. One hundred and eighty degrees of terrain was easily in view; all movement up to 1000 yards or more was visible–at least on a clear day. Staring into the mist this morning, only a fraction of that distance was discernible.

  Of the few trails that wound their way to oblivion a short distance up the hillside, all were in view far below. Luke nodded his head, as if agreeing that he had picked a good vantage point. Moving his binoculars further a field, several hundred yards to the northeast, he saw the mostly open grassy areas. On previous patrols they had looked almost like well-manicured lawns, they were nearly obscured by the fog, only portions of them were now visible. The main commuter trails, the ones used most often by the enemy, Luke noticed, were all in clear sight at the base of his hill. A smile slightly creased his lips.

  During previous patrols, he remembered, especially on clear, moonlit nights, these same main trails had almost glistened like ribbons of concrete forming sidewalks back home. He had seen it often enough; heavily used trails in the less dense vegetation quickly wore down to sandy soil. The sand tended to catch the moonlight and almost sparkle. This morning, however, the cloud cover obscured the light. Luke then frowned, realizing it was going to take total concentration to make out the barest of detail in the rolling fog below him.

  This was the perfect hillside for someone to use if they wanted to watch a wide area and not be seen. And that’s exactly what Luke had in mind. After all, as a Force Recon Marine attached to the First Force Reconnaissance Company serving in Vietnam, his assignment included watching grids like this for enemy troop movements and reporting his findings.

  This grid was not new to him; his last eight or nine patrols found him right here watching this critical valley, sometimes from this hillside, sometimes from others, usually without much to report.

  On several patrols recently, he had detected enemy movement during a night’s surveillance. Twice he had felt no choice but to kill the lone scout who had gotten in his way. Yet another time, when an enemy soldier passed within inches, Luke never moved, and the soldier walked away unknowing. After all, Luke’s purpose was to gather intelligence, not kill the enemy. Anybody who interfered with his mission had to be terminated. It was that simple.

  So far tonight it had been very quiet. He hadn’t seen any sign of the enemy. Sometimes that was good and sometimes bad. Then he shook his head no. “Something tells me tonight’s quiet is bad,” he said softly, spacing the words as he thought out loud. The words, spoken without emotion, sounded like a verdict. The feeling hung like a shroud upon him. He scanned the landscape again and again and saw nothing. But he knew it was there, menacing, just beyond his senses. His breathing became shallow; the strong, sinuous muscles in his powerful shoulders and neck tensed to near breaking point. His eyes strained as they pierced the fog with his lethal stare, carefully looking for anything amiss.

  Long before he saw the proof, he mentally prepared for action, trusting that animal part of him which had saved his life many times since reaching Vietnam. He lay rigid as a piece of concrete, still in the prone position he had assumed many hours before. He ignored all the aches of strained and pinched muscles as though they did not exist. Luke tasted the faint breeze, breathing it quickly through both his mouth and nose, trying to catch a faint tell-tell scent or taste that would give more meaning to the puzzle.

  He studied the terrain. Carefully he moved his eyes from left to right and back, squinting as he strained to detect even the smallest clue. Each bush was examined as it emerged from the fog, and he continued watching as it disappeared, the soupy fog reclaiming it. Nothing; his nostrils flared as he came up empty. Charlie was out there; Luke was sure of it. He didn’t know how many, or exactly where, but he knew.

  “Settle down,” he reminded himself ruefully. “Be patient, don’t rush it. In time they’ll show themselves. They always do.” His prompting, done in a whisper, just barely reached his own ears. Instinctively, he ignored the sound of leaves in a nearby bush being thrashed about, knowing an early rising bird was in search of a meal. His concentration was total as he continued his vigil.

  The proof he was seeking materialized within his brain’s synapses with the power of a massive explosion. What caused the greatest dismay was the immensity of the situation; there in front of him, covering almost the entire field of view, countless enemy troops moved in and out of the misting, soupy fog. Their dark silhouettes were a stark contrast to the gray morning as they materialized from the dull whiteness. They were coming up the valley toward him.

  Based on the numbers he could see, Luke felt sure it was at least a battalion of NVA. As the full impact of the scene sunk in, Luke tensed further; his breathing became even more shallow as he reacted physically to the threat. It wasn’t the first time he had seen such a huge enemy force so close, but something about this bothered him.

  “Shit. They’re moving so slow it will take hours for them to get close...to be a real threat,” he said aloud, now the cool professional once more. With that rumination he felt himself relax. He decided to sit tight and wait this one out–just as he had sat tight and let the enemy pass countless times before. He knew how impossible the terrain was between them and where he was, and he also knew from experience that Charlie wasn’t eager to send routine patrols up into areas like this; the vegetation was so thick that it could take hours to travel just a few hundred yards, and it could tear a man’s clothes to shreds within a few yards.

  For some reason, though, a nagging thought persisted. He didn’t think their movements looked routine. His quick mind began to make further sense of the sparse data. Out loud he said, “It’s as if they know I’m up here.” No emotion was contained in his announcement. It was a simple, grating statement of fact. Watching a while longer, his scalp tingled and the fine hair on his neck bristled. He was sure of it. They knew someone was on the hillside. He continued staring through the binoculars at the spectacle far down below.

  A serious look erupted on his attractive, but slightly gaunt face. Beneath the thick layers of grease paint, the muscles of his jaw grew taut. His eyes became hard as granite and his mouth went slightly dry. A slight smile creased the corners of his mouth. His mind raced over all the information before him. Checking the evidence again, he reached the same conclusion. “Charlie’s on to me,” he said in a confident, strong voice, speaking out loud as though there was no danger in being heard. Now he knew what he was up against.

  My left tit’s in the wringer now, he thought. He knew that he was in real trouble. He took the field glasses from his eyes, wiped the lens dry, and thought further about his situation. Those damn choppers better come soon, Luke mumbled to himself. He knew he had to hold out until the choppers came. He needed to report this shit to the lieutenant.

  With the moist binoculars still glued to his eyes, the worrisome thought slowly worked its way to the surface: It didn’t get any worse than this. With his Recon team dead there was no longer a reason to hide his fears–fears that had always been present, but had been carefully buried deep within himself, hidden from all his team mates. He only had thirty-eight days and a wake up until he would catch the freedom bird for Stateside. He wasn’t sure he even still believed Stateside existed any longer.

  This far behind enemy lines Luke knew he dare not try to out run Charlie. He’d never make it. Besides, there were too many of them.

  He knew that even if he wanted to run, he couldn’t. All he could do was do his count, take good notes, stay concealed and pray to God that the damn choppers would come in time. He wished he still had his team�
�s radio. Then he’d be able to call for help. It was times like this that made him feel most alive. Being a Recon Marine was the only thing that mattered in his life. It had been that way since the day he earned the right to wear the Recon’s insignia.

  Luke watched the shadowy figures of the enemy narrowing the distance, now skirting the base of his hill. He remained calm; they were still a long way off–and they were in plain sight. It was a familiar game, a game of cat and mouse. He had played it many times, always he was the winner.

  It’s hard to tell who is the cat and who is the mouse without a program he thought to himself. His brow creased and his lips were drawn tight as he further studied the situation. With his right hand he made a quick notation in his small, green, military-issue memo book and then continued his surveillance. His gaze remained riveted down the hillside for some time.

  Luke again felt the strange tension begin to consume him. He had felt the stress of combat many times, but this tension was different. Something told him it had nothing to do with the approaching enemy below. That thought alone increased the tension to an almost unbearable level again.

  The waiting part of the life or death game he was involved in was the one part of his job he disliked most. Today was no different. Nothing he could do but sit and wait. He thought briefly about how he had gotten into the Marines in the first place. He smiled. Then he lost himself fully in the memories of the days leading up to him entering the service.

  IT WAS A SUNDAY MORNING IN 1966. Lukewasinhisapartment in the San Diego residential area known as Kensington. A strange noise had startled him awake. As he looked at the clock on his dresser, his blurry eyes finally registered the time: it was 4:30 a.m. The sun wasn’t up yet. He grimaced. As he lay on the bed trying to figure out what had woke him, his mind began to clear. The haze that had settled on him during the night gave way grudgingly.