THE BUTCHER'S BILL

CHAPTER 1

Sitting by the edge of the helicopter’s open doorway, Colleen looked straight down, her blouse ruffling from the pressure of the wind pushing against her body. She saw bright, green tree tops and dark shadows made by the clouds. Except for the large craters left by bombs, the lush vegetation could be a tropical paradise from here. The smell of diesel plugged her nose as Colleen hunched forward fighting the gusts of wind that twisted her hair into tangled knots and slapped at her face. Running her hand along the side of her head, she gathered her wild auburn strands into a ponytail, while she looked at the picture post card scene below, knowing its deceitful beauty. At this safe distance ants didn’t swarm to drink the liquid in her eyes and bugs didn’t bite and sting and men weren’t tortured and dying.

     From the slap of a rifle across her back and a large hairy hand that squeezed her arm, Colleen knew it was the door gunner’s boots she felt when he dragged her toward the helicopter’s bench. It felt good to be off that hard bench for even a few minutes. How Paddy could sit frozen to the seat for so long without even the slightest shift in movement was beyond her. She couldn’t do it, her ass would be too sore. Why Paddy would put herself through this torture when she was so obviously afraid of heights and flying was mind-boggling.

     Colleen gripped the splintered bench to hoist herself onto the seat with the other two girls when the chopper bounced knocking her into Paddy who thumped to the floor.

     “Air pocket.” The warning from the pilot came too late after the turbulence hit.

Before Colleen had a chance to help her friend, the door gunner hauled Paddy up from her hands and knees and dumped her back onto the seat.

     “Sorry. It was an accident. I didn’t mean it. Are you all right?” Colleen asked.

Paddy didn’t answer her face a white expressionless orb with eyes unblinking into the wind.  Colleen shook her by the shoulders, but still there was no reaction. Although she thought about it, she wouldn’t slap her. Afraid that she would go into shock, Colleen turned on a transistor radio she kept in her pocket, slipping the earplugs into Paddy’s ears hoping the music would calm her.           

    

     The tempo to Daydream Believer was lost in Paddy’s own heavy breathing with her heart beat pounding louder than the base.

     The music was interrupted for a special announcement. “We have some bad news for you G.I.’s out there,” a modulated voice said through the earpiece of the transistor radio. “Looks like there is no Santa after all,” declared the radio announcer for the United States Armed Forces. “The cease fire which started today, the thirtieth of January, 1968, for Tet, the Vietnamese New Year, has officially been cancelled. Effective immediately, all forces will resume intensified operations and troops will be placed on maximum alert. So for the allied forces across the republic, it will be business as usual.”

     When the door gunner reached for the radio, Colleen turned to avoid him and tugged the earplugs from Paddy’s ears leaving the wires dangling from her blouse like a cheap broken necklace devoid of beads.      

       “No radios allowed,” the door gunner said, his hand outstretched for the contraband.

Colleen screamed at Jackie who was sitting on the other side of Paddy, “The music didn’t help. She is shaking even more,” but the words were swept away by the whirling helicopter’s blades. Wrapping her arms around Paddy in a bear hug, Colleen swung her open hand at Jackie hoping to at least knock the lipstick out of her hand, because that would get her attention. Some babies were said to be born with a silver spoon, Colleen was convinced Jackie was born with a mirror in her hand, because they were inseparable. Colleen couldn't see Jackie, but she knew what she was doing by her raised bent albow stuck out past Paddy. Jackie was putting on her lipstick in the practiced way she had shown her: touching the lipstick to the middle of her lips and smearing it across with her finger. She could still her Jackie's southern, patroizing drawl as she had explained to her how one never applies the lipstick directly to one's lips in a helicopter because of the turbulence which could make one into a clown. It had been so much funnier before she fingured it out. When turbulence hit, her hand almost jammed the lipstick up her nose, and when Colleen said, "Aren't you supposed to stay inside the lines, it sent Jackie into a screaming fit of obscenities. But no colour could give warmth to that Miss Homecoming Queen, Miss Milkmaid and Miss Harvest smile.