The Things We Carried Home

The afternoon had been a lively one.

Big Donnie had spent the better part of an hour explaining why he was probably the finest marksman the United States Marine Corps had ever produced.

Slim Donnie had spent nearly as much time explaining why that was probably the biggest load of nonsense he’d heard all week.

Nothing unusual there.

But eventually, the others began drifting away from their little sanctuary near Bug Light.

One by one, they headed home, leaving the two Donnies sitting together beneath the trees.

The afternoon sun filtered through the branches. Somewhere beyond the fence, a gull called out over the harbor.

For a while, neither man said anything.

Then Big Donnie broke the silence.

“You know, Slim, I really was a pretty good shot.”

Slim didn’t look up.

“Here we go again.”

“No, I’m serious.”

“That’s what worries me.”

Big Donnie chuckled.

“I’m talking about when I was in the Corps. Back in boot camp. I could hit just about anything they put in front of me.”

Slim adjusted his glasses.

“Targets generally have the courtesy to stand still, Donnie.”

“Yeah.”

Big Donnie looked toward the harbor.

“That’s kind of the problem.”

Something in his voice made Slim turn.

“What do you mean?”

Big Donnie rubbed his hands together.

“Funny thing about being a good shot. Doesn’t mean nearly as much when you can’t see what you’re shooting at.”

Slim studied his friend for a moment.

“Vietnam?”

Big Donnie nodded.

“Vietnam.”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“I’d only been in country a few days. Nineteen seventy. They had me at a base near Da Nang. I was young, fresh out of training, and thought I knew a thing or two.”

Slim smiled faintly.

“Some things never change.”

“Yeah, well, I learned a few things pretty quick.”

Big Donnie paused.

“I remember thinking how different everything looked. The heat, the humidity, the trees. Everything was green. Even the air felt different.”

He shook his head.

“And the sounds. Bugs making noises I’d never heard before. Birds calling from places you couldn’t see. Seemed like the whole jungle was alive.”

“Because it was,” Slim said.

“Yeah. Trouble was, you never knew what else might be out there.”

Big Donnie looked down at his hands.

“First couple of days, things were pretty quiet. I figured maybe everybody had been exaggerating about how bad it was.”

Slim raised an eyebrow.

“That didn’t last long, did it?”

“Nope.”

Big Donnie sat back.

“One night, all hell broke loose.”

He let the words hang there.

“Started with explosions. Mortars, I guess. Somebody yelling. Somebody else screaming for us to get down. Next thing I knew, everybody was moving.”

He shook his head.

“I remember grabbing my rifle. My heart was pounding so hard I thought it was going to come right through my chest.”

Slim said nothing.

“We’d trained for things like that. Over and over. They taught us what to do, how to move, how to react.”

Big Donnie paused.

“And you know something? That training mattered. Probably saved my life.”

He looked toward Slim.

“But there are things they can’t teach you on a rifle range.”

“Like what?”

“Like what it feels like when somebody’s actually shooting at you.”

Slim nodded slowly.

Big Donnie continued.

“Back at boot camp, I could put rounds right where I wanted them. I was proud of that. Thought being a good marksman meant I was ready for anything.”

He gave a humorless little laugh.

“Then there I was, firing into the darkness.”

“Could you see them?”

“Not really. Sometimes you’d catch a flash. Sometimes movement. Mostly shadows.”

He looked across the harbor.

“Shadows, Slim. That’s what I remember. Shooting at things I couldn’t even be sure were there.”

“Did you ever know if you hit anybody?”

Big Donnie shook his head.

“No.”

He paused.

“And to tell you the truth, I’m glad I don’t know.”

Slim let that settle.

“Wasn’t just one night, either,” Big Donnie continued. “Went on for several nights. Maybe not exactly the same every night, but enough that you started expecting trouble whenever the sun went down.”

“What about during the day?”

“That’s what was so strange.”

Big Donnie looked toward the opening in the trees.

“During the day, sometimes it was quiet. Beautiful, even. Sun shining. Birds singing. You’d look out beyond the perimeter and couldn’t see a soul.”

He hesitated.

“But you could feel something.”

“Feel what?”

“Like somebody was watching you.”

Slim nodded.

“You’d stare out there, looking at all those trees, wondering what was behind them. Wondering whether somebody was looking right back at you.”

Big Donnie shook his head.

“Sometimes I think the waiting was worse than the shooting.”

“How’s that?”

“Well, when things started happening, you didn’t have much time to think. You just did what you were trained to do.”

He paused.

“But during the day? You had all the time in the world to wonder what was coming that night.”

Slim looked toward the water.

“Yeah. I know that feeling.”

Big Donnie continued.

“I remember how happy I was when I finally got away from that place. Never thought I’d be so glad to leave somewhere in my life.”

He fell silent.

Then he noticed Slim staring across the harbor.

“What about you?”

Slim didn’t answer immediately.

“What about me?”

“Saigon.”

Slim lowered his eyes.

“April of seventy-five.”

“Yeah.”

Big Donnie waited.

Slim removed his glasses and cleaned them with the edge of his shirt.

“You know, Donnie, I saw plenty of things during my time in the Marines. But those last days in Saigon…”

He stopped.

Big Donnie didn’t interrupt.

“Those are the ones that stayed with me.”

Slim replaced his glasses.

“Everything was coming apart. People were frightened. Desperate. Everybody knew what was happening. North Vietnamese forces were closing in, and there wasn’t much time left.”

He looked toward the harbor.

“I was at the embassy, Donnie. Those last hours, there were people everywhere. We were trying to get as many onto those helicopters as we could.”

Big Donnie nodded.

“Must’ve been something.”

“It was.”

Slim rubbed his chin.

“You’d see people coming toward you. Some carrying bags. Some carrying children. Some with practically nothing.”

He paused.

“And the looks on their faces, Donnie. That’s what I remember.”

“What kind of looks?”

“Fear. Hope. Desperation. Sometimes all three at once.”

Slim looked down.

“Some of those people had no idea what was going to happen to them. They just knew they had to get out.”

He fell quiet.

“We helped who we could. Got people aboard. Kept things moving.”

He shook his head.

“But there were always more people.”

Big Donnie listened.

“More people than helicopters could take. More people than there was time for.”

Slim stared at his hands.

“And eventually, it came time for us to leave.”

He swallowed.

“I remember boarding that helicopter.”

Big Donnie waited.

“I remember looking back.”

Slim stopped speaking.

For several moments, the only sounds were the gulls and the distant traffic.

Finally, Big Donnie asked quietly, “What did you see?”

“People.”

Slim’s answer was barely above a whisper.

“People who weren’t coming with us.”

He looked toward the harbor.

“That’s the part that gets me, Donnie. Even now.”

Big Donnie nodded slowly.

“You did what you could.”

“I know.”

“You followed orders.”

“I know that, too.”

Slim took a breath.

“But knowing something and feeling it aren’t always the same thing.”

Big Donnie said nothing.

“You spend your whole life remembering those faces. Wondering what happened to them. Wondering whether they made it through.”

He shook his head.

“And knowing there wasn’t a damn thing more you could do.”

Big Donnie leaned back.

“Funny, isn’t it?”

“What?”

“How different our experiences were.”

Slim looked at him.

“How do you mean?”

“Well, there I was, just a young Marine, scared half to death, wondering whether I’d ever get out of that place.”

He paused.

“And there you were, years later, getting out and wishing you could’ve stayed long enough to help more people.”

Slim considered that.

“Yeah.”

Big Donnie looked toward the water.

“I was relieved when I left.”

Slim nodded.

“And I felt guilty.”

Neither man spoke for a while.

Then Big Donnie said something Slim hadn’t expected.

“You ever wish you hadn’t gone?”

Slim turned.

“To Vietnam?”

“Yeah.”

Slim thought about it.

“Wish some things had been different. Wish some things I’d seen hadn’t happened. Wish we’d gotten more people out.”

He paused.

“But wish I hadn’t been a Marine?”

He shook his head.

“Not for a second.”

Big Donnie smiled.

“Yeah. That’s about how I feel.”

Slim looked across the harbor.

“People sometimes forget something, Donnie. We were young men serving our country. We didn’t get to decide everything that happened. We didn’t make all the decisions.”

“No, we sure didn’t.”

“But we did our duty.”

Big Donnie nodded.

“And we believed in something.”

“We still do,” Slim said.

Big Donnie looked toward the American flag flying in the distance.

“Freedom.”

Slim followed his gaze.

“Freedom’s a pretty important thing.”

“The right to live your life. Speak your mind. Make your own choices.”

Slim nodded.

“Even when somebody else’s choices drive you crazy.”

Big Donnie laughed.

“Especially then, I suppose.”

Slim smiled.

“That’s part of what makes this country worth defending, Donnie. People don’t all have to think alike.”

“No, they don’t.”

“And you don’t have to agree with every decision somebody makes to love your country.”

Big Donnie considered that.

“Never thought of it quite that way.”

“That’s because you spend too much time talking and not enough time thinking.”

Big Donnie chuckled.

“There’s the Slim I know.”

They sat together for another moment.

Then Big Donnie spoke.

“You know, I wouldn’t trade being a Marine for anything.”

Slim nodded.

“Neither would I.”

“Even with everything that happened?”

“Even with everything that happened.”

Big Donnie looked at his friend.

“Once a Marine, always a Marine.”

Slim smiled.

“Semper Fi, Donnie.”

“Semper Fi.”

For a while, neither man said anything.

There was no need.

They had both been young once.

They had both worn the uniform.

They had both experienced things that stayed with them long after they returned home.

And although their experiences had been different, there was an understanding between them that required very few words.

Eventually, Big Donnie stretched his legs.

“You know something, Slim?”

“What now?”

“I still think I was probably one of the finest marksmen the Corps ever produced.”

Slim closed his eyes.

“Oh, for crying out loud.”

“What?”

“We were having such a nice conversation.”

“I’m just saying.”

“Of course you are.”

Big Donnie grinned.

“You know, I could probably still outshoot you today.”

Slim turned toward him.

“Donnie, you couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn if you were standing inside it.”

“That’s jealousy talking.”

“That’s experience talking.”

Big Donnie laughed.

“Tell you what. We ought to go to a range sometime. Settle this once and for all.”

Slim looked him over.

“With your eyesight?”

“What’s wrong with my eyesight?”

“Nothing, provided the target’s the size of a battleship.”

Big Donnie threw his head back and laughed.

“You’re just afraid I’ll embarrass you.”

Slim stood up and brushed off his pants.

“Donnie, you’ve been embarrassing yourself all afternoon. I don’t think you need my help.”

Big Donnie was still laughing as he got to his feet.

The two men began walking toward their trucks.

A few steps later, Slim stopped.

“Hey, Donnie.”

“Yeah?”

Slim looked at his friend.

“That thing you said earlier. About being scared.”

Big Donnie’s smile faded slightly.

“What about it?”

Slim held his gaze.

“Nothing wrong with being scared.”

Big Donnie nodded.

“Yeah.”

“Being scared doesn’t mean you weren’t brave.”

Big Donnie looked down for a moment.

Then he smiled.

“Thanks, Slim.”

Slim shrugged.

“Just thought you ought to know.”

They started walking again.

A few steps later, Big Donnie spoke.

“Hey, Slim?”

“What?”

“Same goes for you.”

Slim stopped.

“What do you mean?”

“Those people in Saigon.”

Slim looked away.

“You helped as many as you could.”

He paused.

“You did your job, Marine.”

Slim stood quietly for a moment.

Then he nodded.

“Yeah.”

Big Donnie put a hand on his shoulder.

“Semper Fi.”

Slim looked at him.

“Semper Fi.”

And with that, the two old Marines continued toward their trucks.

Tomorrow, they’d be back at their usual spot, arguing about everything from baseball to the weather.

Big Donnie would tell another outrageous story.

Slim would accuse him of making half of it up.

And everyone would laugh.

Nobody would know about the conversation they’d shared that afternoon.

Or the memories that had brought two old friends a little closer.

One remembered the darkness beyond a distant perimeter.

The other remembered the faces beneath a departing helicopter.

Neither had forgotten.

Neither ever would.

But they had carried something else home, too.

A bond that time could never break.

Semper Fidelis.

Always Faithful.