Vietnam: Ground zero 7 Hobo Woods by Eric Helm

Author:Eric Helm
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Gerber was in a fresh set of jungle fatigues, and Kit was wearing the short dark skirt and white blouse she had bought, with a red tie at the throat. Gerber left her standing near a couple of wing chairs while he registered for the night. The clerk, an old Vietnamese man who could barely speak English, didn't bat an eye when Gerber picked up the rifle he had leaned against the front desk. Then, rather than heading upstairs, Gerber took Kit into the dining room.

It was a huge hall with ten-foot-high windows and large chandeliers. There were twenty-five or thirty tables, each with a white linen cloth and a place setting of silver and crystal. Red napkins and bright flowers added a touch of color to the room. At one end of the hall there was a raised dining area and French doors that looked out on Nha Trang Bay. The whole place smacked of wealth, and so far it seemed to be undamaged by the war. Gerber noticed a couple of freshly patched places where the paint didn't quite match the rest, and there were a few windowpanes that looked cleaner than the rest.

The maitre d' intercepted them, looking down his nose at Gerber's fatigues and M-16 and Kit's clothes. In French, he asked, "Two for dinner?"

Gerber nodded and responded in English, "If you have a nice table."

The maitre d' took them toward the rear of the room, near the doors that led into the kitchen. He pulled a chair out for Kit, but Gerber refused to sit. The captain stared at the man and said, "I believe we'd be happier near the balcony."

"Those tables are reserved."

"Ah," said Gerber. He put a hand in his pocket, took out a bill and moved closer to the man. He slipped the bill into the man's hand and asked, "Why don't you see if there's a reservation for Gerber?"

The maitre d' went to the front door, checked his book and surreptitiously looked at the bill Gerber had given him. A smile broke out on his face, and he hurried back. "Please forgive me, sir, I have made an error. Come with me."

They took a table near the window where they could look out on the darkening of the bay and the deep purple clouds that hung over it. A couple of sampans were visible, and a navy patrol boat cut across the dark blue of the water. In the distance Gerber could see a destroyer on picket duty. He watched them for a moment and then turned his attention back to Kit.

"So, how have things been going for you?" he asked.

She shrugged. "They are fine. We have made a big dent in the Vietcong. Stopped them many times. Killed many of them in battle. But I do not want to talk about the war."

"What would you like to talk about?"

Before she could answer, the waiter arrived and handed them menus printed in both Vietnamese and French. As he turned to leave, Kit leaned across the table and said quietly, "I can translate for you.

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