The chopper veered sharply, climbed fast.
“They’re shooting at us,” Slim yelled into the comm headset. “Damn rude on a beach day.”
The bird veered so sharply that Frankie cried out. Jamie put an arm around her, held her close. “It’s okay, McGrath,” he whispered into her ear. “I’ve got you.”
Frankie let it be, just for a moment, then pulled away.
The gunner shot back. Pop-pop-pop.
Another sharp turn, an evasion. A fighter jet streaked past; below, a piece of the jungle exploded in red flames. Frankie felt the heat of it on her face.
Pop-pop-pop.
The machine gun at the door rattled in response, spent casings clattered to the floor.
All it would take was one good hit and the bird would go up in flames. She couldn’t help but think of Finley. Was this what it had been like for him?
It was over as quickly as it began. The helicopter swooped sideways, lowered over the smoldering canopy of the jungle, and dropped down onto the helipad at the Thirty-Sixth.
* * *
At 0300 hours, a red alert siren blared through camp. Then came the sound of incoming choppers. A swarm of them. One Dust Off after another landed in the pouring rain, full of wounded. Frankie and Barb and Ethel stumbled out of bed and ran to the helipad, helping to offload them. Frankie spent the next eight hours at Jamie’s side, going from one surgery to the next, until she was so tired she could barely stand.
At 1100 hours, when the last patient was rolled out of the OR, Frankie reached numbly for a mop and began cleaning the floor until Jamie stopped her. “We’re done,” he said. “Someone else can mop up the blood. Let’s go.”
Nodding, she put on her green poncho, flipped up her hood, and followed Jamie out of the OR. The wooden walkway was underwater. Rain pounded the roof overhead. He put an arm around her, steadied her as they walked through the compound.
At Jamie’s quarters, he came to a stop; Frankie realized suddenly that she was too close to him, touching his body with her own as they stood beneath the overhang, barely out of the rain. A tiny drizzle of someone else’s blood streaked down Jamie’s neck. She reached up to wipe it away.
Jamie almost smiled, but not quite. “You want to kiss me before I go,” he said. “I knew it.”
“Have fun in Maui,” she said, embarrassed by the jealousy she felt at the idea of him being with his wife. “Bring me back something fun.”
There was more love in his eyes than should be there, and probably too much in hers. “I love you, McGrath. I know I’m not supposed to…”
She longed to say it in return, but how could she? Words were creators of worlds; you had to be careful with them. He was going to meet his wife, see pictures of his son. “I’ll miss you,” she said instead.
He stepped back. “See you in a week.”
As she watched him leave, the moment played over in her mind: I love you, McGrath.
Maybe she should have said it, too. But what good could come of her love for him? He wasn’t hers to love. When she couldn’t stand the regret anymore, she flipped her hood up and headed for her hooch.
She opened the door and realized instantly what she’d forgotten during the push.
Barb sat on Ethel’s empty cot. “She’s gone.”
Frankie sat down beside Barb, not even bothering to pull off her wet poncho. “We didn’t get to say goodbye.”
“She didn’t want us to. Probably slipped out while we were looking the other way. Bitch.”
It was the way of Vietnam; people came, they did their tour, and they left. The lucky ones, like Ethel, flew home in one piece. Some wanted parties for their send-off and some wanted to slip away in silence. Some wanted both. Either way, you woke up one day and your friend was just gone.
War was full of goodbyes, and most of them never really happened; you were always too early or too late.
Like with Finley.
She had said goodbye to her brother long after the words could have mattered to him. That was one thing this war had taught her; there was never enough time with the people who mattered.
* * *
It rained for the next week. Not a drenching, monsoon rain, just a thumping, ever-present drip-drip-drip that demoralized everyone. Even gatherings at the O Club had all but ended. No one felt like partying in this weather.
Now, as midnight neared, Frankie stood in the OR, in mask and cap and gloves and gown, closing an incision. Not far away, the new doctor, Rob Aldean, from Kentucky, was trying to save a young Vietnamese woman’s leg. While Jamie was on R and R in Maui with his wife, they were down to two surgeons, and that wasn’t enough to keep up with the casualties. To make matters worse, they hadn’t replaced Ethel yet, so they were understaffed in nurses, too. Four patients lay on tables awaiting surgery, with more in triage and Pre-Op.