The Quest

Rainey was having a hard time staying alert. His companion finally jolted awake. When he realized Rainey was sitting beside him, he reached for his rifle.
“Do not bother,” Rainey said. “It is empty, I took your extra clip, and I will not hurt you.”
The boy looked at his bandaged arm and leg and glanced back up at Rainey.
“You will live,” Rainey said to the question forming in the boy’s mind. “My name is Peter. What is yours?”
With a bit of hesitation, the boy replied, “Duy.”
“Hello, Duy,” Rainey said. “Quite the war, is it not?”
Duy stared at him but said nothing.
This could be a very one-sided conversation, Rainey thought. “You do not seem very happy to be in it.”
“Are you?” Duy asked.
There we go. “No, I am not. I do not like going to a country halfway around the world and killing people I do not know over ideology.”
“Then why are you here?”
Rainey shrugged. What he was telling Duy was the truth. He had started out wanting to help democracy in South Vietnam, but he had found little of it once he arrived. His father had warned him about the situation, suggesting another posting with the CIA. Rainey hadn’t listened, wanting some combat experience to go with his idealism.
At least he got the combat experience.
“I should be starting school this autumn,” Duy muttered.
Rainey liked where the conversation was going. He opened his last ration. When he was thrown in the air by a bomb, his backpack had taken a lot of damage and left him only the one ration. He took a bite and offered some to Duy. “What were you going to be taking?”
Duy took some jerky, looked at it with curiosity, and bit into it. “Civil engineering. I want to rebuild my country once your air force stops blowing it up.”
Rainey sighed. “Sorry about that. I do not have a say in my country’s political decisions.”
Duy tilted his head to one side. “If you did, what would you do?”
I like this kid. He’s a thinker. “I would support whatever freely elected government your country wants. Personally, I do not think communism is a good long-term bet. It does not take human nature into account very well. But if it gets your country off the ground on its own, I would support it.”
“And Russia?”
Rainey shrugged. “If we are supporting your attempt at communism, they would not be involved at all. The one thing my country does not understand is the Soviets are not interested in conquering the world. They figure communism will end up in every country eventually on its own. They are scared of America conquering them, however.”
“You should be president,” Duy remarked.
Rainey chuckled. “I would never get elected talking like this.”
Duy smiled. Rainey really liked this kid, feeling sorry for the circumstances he found himself in. With his wounds, he should at least get out of combat duty for a while.
Their conversation continued. The two of them got to know each other. Rainey was careful not to divulge any strategic information. The sun was setting in the west when Rainey decided he would be taking his leave.
“When it gets dark,” he said, “I will leave you here. Is that fine with you?”
Duy lifted his arm slightly. “I cannot stop you.”
“True,” Rainey replied. “I just wanted you to know I cannot stay with you.”
Before Duy could respond, Rainey heard the sound of men trudging through the jungle. He held up a finger to Duy, picked up his Thompson and got up into a crouch. Lifting his head slowly, he looked out over the brush. There, heading right towards him, was a patrol.
“Shit,” he said under his breath. He had hoped the patrols were over with the coming of night. He assessed their path and concluded that there was no avoiding them. Firing at them would attract more soldiers.
He was going to be captured. He lowered himself back down beside Duy. He only had one concern now and only Duy could help him.
“I am not getting out of this,” he said. He took his sword off his shoulder and held it out to Duy. “Can I trust you to take care of this for me? It is very important to my family. When all this is over, I will find you and reward you for your service.”
Duy looked confused, but he nodded. Taking the sword, he placed it on the ground beside him. Rainey then laid down his Thompson and Colt pistol.
“Pick up your gun,” Rainey ordered.
“But it is empty,” Duy protested.
“They do not know that,” Rainey replied. “I am your prisoner.” He moved about five feet away from Duy, sat up and put his hands on his head. He gave Duy a parting smile.
It took another two minutes for the patrol to reach them. One of the soldiers called out. With their guns aimed at Rainey, they parted to let a woman come through to the tree. Rainey glanced up at her, putting the blankest look on his face that he could muster.
She did not look happy. Her uniform was dirty with some rips in the cloth. Peter figured she had been near ground zero when the B-52’s let loose their bomb loads.
“You are my prisoner,” she said in English.
“Do you have a security place still standing?” Rainey asked. “I can wait here until you get a new one built.”
Okay, that was a little too flippant. The woman swung her arm and clipped Rainey on the side of his head with her pistol butt. He fell over onto his side.
Ah, Peter. You knew that was coming.