Uncle's Story by Ihimaera Witi

Author:Ihimaera, Witi
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781742288130
Publisher: Penguin New Zealand
Published: 2011-03-18T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

1

The gunship was lifting and wheeling back into the past. Thirty years later it had all come to this: me and a Vietnam Vet named George, sitting in a pub in Porirua on a cold, rainy night, talking about Uncle Sam.

George looked up. A clock on the wall ticked its way to closing time at the Porirua Tavern. The regular thump thump thump of the band reverberated through the night.

‘Sam and I ended our tour of duty in Vietnam in late 1970. We finished our time with the Army in Singapore, and when we arrived home we had a big welcome on the marae. That welcome was different from the one we got from everyone else where the hostility really brought us down to earth. We had no formal recognition from government. We were humiliated by the protest groups. Some of us began to die from the chemicals. Sam’s Dad wanted him to stay in Waituhi, but I decided to come down to Wellington. I managed to get a job as an Army instructor at Trentham. I got married twice. The first time was a mistake. The second time was to a nice girl from the South Island and we had four kids. I didn’t treat her too well and she took off. Around ten years ago I bought this pub. It’s been my life. I get the cough now and then. Cancer. Yeah, it got me too — Agent Orange. I’m up and down. Right now I’m up. I still see a few of the old mates at Company reunions, RSAs and so on. There are fewer of us every year. Time is passing. Very soon nobody will remember us.’

George’s voice trailed into silence. Then:

‘I’d better get back to the bar. Help the boys out before we close for the night. But thanks for coming out. I’ve enjoyed talking about my mate.’ He looked at me with rough admiration. ‘Do you realise how much you look like Sam? It’s like looking at a bloody ghost. You’re about his size, maybe a little thinner. You have his eyes and, from the looks of you, his stubborn streak. He was a great mate. You could trust in him. Rely on him. There was something fearless about him. In a scrape he never let you down.’

George saw me to the door.

‘Sam will always remain young in my mind. It’s only the rest of us who get old and develop beer guts so that we can’t see what’s down below — if there’s anything still there.’

Smiling ruefully, he shook my hand. His eyes were moist and I realised he was still thinking about old times and people who had gone from his life.

‘Tell Patty that it was really nice to hear from her. If she’s ever down this way, tell her to call in, okay?’

I arrived home just after midnight. I couldn’t sleep, so I took Uncle Sam’s diary and finished it just before dawn. I found some ash-edged remnants of letters

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