It needs refining but I'm a third of the way through this. Some of you may find the piece, mmm, familiar. 
Two hours later, we touched down at the military base in Nha Trang. Jumping to the ground, the men briskly led me from the chopper across the field. I felt much better now. As we conversed, I noticed a spirited platoon drilling in the distance, proudly chanting the rhyme they were taught by their instructor when they first trained for combat.
‘I wanna go to Vietnam, I wanna kill a Viet Cong...’
Making our way deeper into the compound, we passed a group of Vietnamese civilians, sitting on chairs in the open air, listening to a US officer speaking through a megaphone. There was a big white board behind them that read: ‘IF YOU KILL FOR PLEASURE, YOU’RE A SADIST. IF YOU KILL FOR MONEY, YOU’RE A MERCENARY. IF YOU KILL FOR BOTH, YOU’RE A RANGER.’
‘The purpose of your stay will be to tour the facility to get a better picture of our mission in the Central Highlands,’ the officer explained. ‘Tomorrow, you’ll be flown to Cam Rahn Bay to observe a detonization program in progress. As you know, this is a program which includes the training and teaching of ARVN Forces. Later on today, we will host a gourmet dinner with steak and ice cream, and your choice of beverages flown in from Saigon. And now, ladies and gentlemen, if you stand up and follow me, we’ll begin our tour of the facility.’
My destination was a spacious looking trailer guarded by two armed MP’s seated outside, who stood up and saluted us on arrival. I produced identification, handing them my clearance papers. The men who were ordered to escort me said their goodbyes; their mission now complete. I shook their hands, thanking them for their help and discretion. Breathing deeply, I entered the trailer where my new assignment awaited. While I was excited to be getting back out into the field, I felt edgy about facing my superiors.
Inside, I was greeted by a tall, thin bespectacled man. He introduced himself as Colonel Lucas. I saluted him.
‘Captain Willard. Reporting sir.’
‘Come on in, Captain.’ Lucas welcomed, returning the salute. ‘Stand at ease.’
‘Thank you, sir.’
There were two other men in the room. One was a grey haired general in his fifties, relaxing on a couch. The other was a well-dressed man, probably a government agent or somebody with the Department of Defense, sitting next to him. All three were looking straight at me. Lucas presented a pack of Marlboros from his shirt pocket.
‘Wanna smoke?’ He offered with an uneasy smile.
I declined.
The colonel raised the pack to his mouth, taking one out with his lips. He gestured to the well-dressed man.
‘Captain, have you ever seen this gentleman before?’
‘No, sir. I haven’t.’
He lit his cigarette.
‘Have you met the General or myself?’
I recognized the old guy, but was never formally introduced.
‘No, sir. Not personally.’
Despite the frosty reception, the interior of the trailer had a warm feel to it. On the walls were various certificates of valor, along with a big framed photograph of President Nixon. I also saw a linen-covered dining table with place settings for three. Talk about ‘Home, Sweet Home.’
‘You’ve worked a lot on your own. Haven’t you, Captain?’ Lucas continued.
‘Yes sir, I have.’
‘Your report specifies intelligence, counter-intelligence with Com-Sec, I Corps.’
He was testing my confidence.
‘I’m not presently disposed to discuss those operations, sir.’
The general handed a file to Lucas, who began to thumb through it carefully, quoting entries and asking private questions about my military history.
‘Did you not work for the CIA in I Corps?’
‘No, sir.’ I lied.
‘Did you not assassinate a government tax collector in the Quang Tri Province, June 18th 1968?’
I had to clear my throat before answering that one.
‘Sir...’
‘Captain?’
‘...I am unaware of any such activity or operation. Nor would I be at liberty to discuss such an operation if it did in fact exist, sir.’
The men looked at each other with mute acknowledgement. Eventually, the general got up, clasping his hands behind his back. He walked over to me, speaking with a strong Southern accent.
‘I thought we’d have a bite of lunch while we talked to you, Captain. My name is General Gorman, pleased to meet you.’
He held out his hand. I shook it firmly.
‘Thank you, General.’
‘I hope you brought a good appetite with you, Captain.’
I hadn’t eaten since yesterday, so I was more than happy to take up his invitation. There was a platter of sliced roast beef, potatoes, peas, and chopped carrots. I couldn’t sit down at the table fast enough! My stomach growled, and Gorman winked at me, smirking. Lucas brought over a sixer, placing a can at the side of my plate.
‘Do you like Budweiser, Captain?’
‘Yes, it’s okay.’ I answered politely, a little queasy at the sight of alcohol.
’Mmm, let’s see what we have here,’ said Gorman, glancing at the mouthwatering spread. ‘Roast beef and usually it’s not bad. Try some, Jerry. Pass it around. To save a little time, we might pass both ways.’
He handed the platter to the well-dressed man, who served his portion, and then handed it to me. Gorman caught a glimpse of the bandage on my hand when I took it from him.
‘Willard, I noticed that you have a bad hand there. Are you wounded?’
I forked a slice of beef to my plate.
‘No, sir. Just a fishing accident on R&R.’
‘But you’re feeling fit? You’re ready for duty, yes?’
I passed the platter back to the well-dressed man.
‘Yes. Very much so, sir.’
Lucas set down a seafood basket, along with some bread rolls. It was odd of him to do so, especially as he had no setting at the table. Gorman picked up the basket, offering me one of the large shrimp inside, which I took.
‘I don’t know how you feel about this shrimp,’ he jested. ‘But if you eat it, you’ll never have to prove your courage in any other way.’
The well-dressed man chuckled quietly. Lifting up a large jug of iced tea, Gorman poured himself a glass, talking to me at the same time.
‘Captain, what do you think about the Special Forces?’
‘I’ve worked with them on occasion. Very impressive.’ I said, deshelling the crustacean. ‘What I mean is that I haven’t really thought about it much, or saw the movie yet.’
‘Saw what, Captain?’
The general didn’t get my joke.
‘The Green Berets,’ clarified Lucas. ‘You know, the film with John Wayne?’
‘Oh, of course!’ Gorman gasped. ‘We gave cooperation to that movie. God knows how many troops, how many helicopters we furnished to make the Green Bees look like soldiers.’
Lucas cast me an inquisitve eye.
‘What in your estimation is the mission of the Special Forces, Captain?’
‘Sorry. Say again, sir?’
‘What do you think the Green Berets’ mission is?’
‘Well, sir.’ I explained to the best of my ability. ‘Primarily it’s counter-insurgency warfare with indigenous troops and the like.’
‘Yes, they are the elite troops,’ accepted Gorman. ‘They are a new breed, I realize that. The question I have about the Special Forces, Captain, is under whose control are they?’
Silence fell upon the table. Lucas handed me a small black and white photograph.
‘Captain, have you heard of Colonel Walter E. Kurtz?’
It was an eight-by-ten portrait of a handsome army officer in his late-thirties, wearing a beret.
‘Yes, sir. I’ve heard of the name.’
As I returned it, he clumsily dropped the picture at his feet.
‘Shit!’
I looked at Gorman; he was rubbing his forehead irritably. Scooping up the photo, Lucas elaborated on the subject.
‘He’s an operations officer, Fifth Special Forces.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Commands at CIDG, the Civilian Irregular Defense Group. Twenty-five camps all along the Cambodian border with over twelve-hundred natives advised by several Americans – Western Montagnards, Nungs, Rhades, Jarai...’
‘This was a man of honor,’ Gorman interrupted. ‘A man of principle. Walter Kurtz was one of the finest officers this country’s ever produced. He was brilliant. Outstanding in every way. And he was a good man, too. A humanitarian. A man of wit and humor. He joined the Special Forces, and after that, his ideas, methods, became unsound.’
‘Now he’s crossed into Cambodia,’ Lucas resumed. ‘Set up camp with his private Montagnard army. They worship him like a god, and follow his every order, however ridiculous.’
‘They worship him?’
‘Look Captain,’ the general sadly reported. ‘I believe he’s experienced a breakdown. It all got too much to bear. And Kurtz has now gone past the bounds of permitted aspirations. However, let’s try to put ourselves in his shoes. Man with his bridges burned, surrounded by a group of primitives who adore him. Who gratify every wish, every whim. In this war things get confused; power, ideals, the old morality, and practical military necessity. But out there with those people, it must be a temptation to be God. Because there’s a conflict in every human heart. Between the rational and irrational. Between good and evil. And good does not always triumph. Sometimes the dark side overcomes what Lincoln called “the better angels of our nature”. Every man has got a breaking point. You and I have them. Kurtz has reached his. And very obviously he has gone insane.’
‘Yes, sir.’ I understood. ‘Very much so, sir. Obviously insane’
‘He’s out there operating without any decent restraint. Totally beyond the pale of any acceptable human conduct. But what is far worse is that the man has become a savage, and he is still out there in the field commanding troops.’
I looked at the men in disbelief. It was then I noticed that not one person at the table had touched their food, and were just pushing it around. Gorman pondered for a moment, lost in thought.
‘I want you to hear a tape,’ he said, motioning to the colonel. ‘Luc, would you play that tape for the Captain, please?’
Lucas walked over to a Sony reel-to-reel, switching it on. A male voice announced the time and date.
‘October 9, 04:30 hours, Sector Peter, Victor, King.’
‘These were monitored out of Cambodia,’ Lucas told me. ‘It’s been verified as Colonel Kurtz’s voice.’
There was a whoosh of static, followed by a brief silence. A strange voice filled the speaker. It was deep and nasal.
‘I watched a snail... crawling on the edge of a straight razor. That’s my dream. It’s my nightmare. Crawling, slithering... along the edge of a straight razor... and surviving.’
There was more static. The male announcer spoke again.
‘Transmission eleven, recieved ’68, December 30, 05:00 hours, Sector King, Zulu, King.’
I listened in wonderment.
‘But we must kill them,’ Kurtz whispered sinisterly. ‘We must incinerate them. Pig after pig. Cow after cow. Village after village. Army after army. And they call me an assassin. What do you call it, when the assassins accuse the assassin? They lie. They lie, and we have to be merciful for those who lie. Those nabobs. I hate them...’
Lucas turned off the tape, dragging a chair over to the table. Gorman appeared to be physically stunned, even though he had probably heard the recording a hundred times.
‘Disturbing isn’t it, Captain?’
‘Indeed, General. It is.’ I replied.
‘Well, I have some other shocking news to tell you. Colonel Kurtz was about to be arrested for murder.’
This was becoming a little confusing.
‘I don’t follow, sir. Murdered who?’
‘Kurtz had ordered the execution of some Vietnamese intelligence agents,’ revealed Lucas. ‘Men he believed were double agents. So he took matters into his own hands.’
‘We need a man to take a hazardous trip,’ Gorman cut to the chase, laying his cards on the table. ‘We’re looking for a man who has experience in this type of mission, which you have. And we’re looking for a man who’s good at it, which you are. Above all, we’re looking for a man who loves his country, and is absolutely loyal to the army. So the question is, Captain Willard, are you that man?’
Bring Kurtz home? I wasn’t sure if that was possible. But I had to stress that I was ready for active duty regardless. Whatever the outcome of this meeting, I needed to go back to work.
‘I have been off for a bit,’ I stammered. ‘But I assure you that I’m able, fit, and quite willing to accept whatever assignment that you intend for me, sir.’
The general seemed relieved.
‘That’s swell, Captain. I have some good news for you, also. I recommended you for a promotion. In a few weeks, when the paperwork is complete, you will be entitled to wear oak leaves on your collar.’
This must be one choice mission if they’re ready to promote me to major. I was almost speechless.
‘Thank you, General. I’m honored.’
‘I’d like to emphasize that this mission is voluntary. You’re not jeopardizing your career or promotion in any way at all. You can refuse it, if you wish.’
‘I understand, sir.’
Beginning the short briefing, Lucas adjusted his spectacles.
‘Your mission, if you take it, is to proceed up the Nung River in a navy patrol boat. Pick up Colonel Kurtz’s path at Nu Mung Ba, follow it, learn what can along the way. When you find the Colonel, infiltrate his team by whatever means available, and terminate the Colonel’s command.’
That one hit me like a wall. They wanted him dead.
‘Terminate the Colonel?’ I said to Gorman, stunned.
‘That’s the job, son.’ He nodded.
The well-dressed man finally spoke, offering me a Marlboro.
‘Terminate with extreme prejudice.’
I took one, slowly screwing the cigarette between my lips. He held out a light, and I hovered over the flame until it was lit. The hangover I tried to disguise all afternoon was gone in an instant.
‘You understand, Captain.’ Lucas concluded. ‘This mission does not exist, nor will it ever exist.’
How many people had I already killed? There were about six that I knew for sure. Close enough to blow their last breath in my face. But this time it was an American, and an officer. That wasn’t supposed to make any difference to me, but it did. Christ, charging a man with murder in this place was like handing out speeding tickets at the Indy 500. I took the mission. What the hell else was I gonna do? But I really didn’t know what I’d do when I found him.
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Originally Posted by fartpants
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