Waiting: One Wife's Year of the Vietnam War

Chapter 16

{Chapter 16} By the latter part of July, I had been in San Francisco long enough to experience reruns of events. Impatient to see more pictures of Lee, I took my miniature viewer to the Presidio on the day the slides were due. After I waited eagerly in line, the clerk handed me an envelope with the price of $30 marked in red on it. I gasped at the amount. This near to the end of the month, my money was almost gone. As I felt the plastic case through the paper envelope, I knew I couldn’t leave without them. I gulped and wrote the check. In the car, I tore into the package and inserted slide after slide into the viewer, looking for glimpses of Lee. Some of the pictures were so dark that I had difficulty making out the subjects, mostly teenagers with rifles and bandoleers of ammunition, it seemed. Although I studied each, by the time I looked at the last one, I still had not found Lee. Exasperated, I began again, gathering up the frames strewn across the seat. The result was the same. Lee was not in any of those pictures. I couldn’t believe it. I had just spent my last dollars to see snapshots of shady jungle and men I didn’t know—or know who they were. Why did Lee send me these negatives when he wasn’t in the pictures? Disappointed, I decided to forego my other errands. The car, however , had other ideas. When I turned the key in the ignition, nothing happened . I swore and swung at the steering wheel, hitting the horn and causing everyone in the vicinity to turn and stare. I raised the hood and took off my shoe. Just as I was about to start pounding, I caught sight of an MP jeep careening around the corner. This time I stood up straight, put my hands on my hips, and watched as the [120] chapter 16 same John Wayne driver slowed to a roll. We locked eyes, his look accusing me of continued mechanical negligence, mine assuring him that I would conk his head instead of the battery if he stopped. He tromped the accelerator and I bent back over the engine. Since my day had gotten off to such a depressing start, I did not expect alleviation from the mail slot. In the wooden drop box, however, I found two muddy envelopes and huffed up the stairs to read. The first envelope , a suspiciously thick one, contained another set of negatives with a quick note from Lee in which he said that it was easier for him to get sets of negatives from his men than worry with a camera himself, which explained, albeit too late, the photographs I had just picked up. He told me to get the enclosed set developed, too, and let him know how they looked. I stared at the film clips in my lap. Would men take pictures of their platoon leader? Probably not. Was I going to risk what little money I had to find out? Definitely not. I held my breath when I opened the second envelope. Writing from a base camp where he had been for three days, Lee said they were heading into the jungle again. I read the next paragraph and my heart skipped a beat: “Company X-O leaves in August—I am next in line for it.” August was just days away! Lee would be out of the field in days— hours, really. Executive officers worked in the rear with administrative paperwork and rarely ventured into the action. The worst was almost over! Of course, Lee’s next words wiped the smile off my face and joy from my heart: CPT McGinnis asked if I would stay in field—He said he needed me—Also Bn CO said I was needed. So I will be staying in the field. Was told they would get someone with about with 3 months left incountry and job will be mine after I have 6 months in the field. Am not unhappy at all—Feel as though I am needed. Goddammit! So what if he was needed in the field? I needed him at home, alive and well for the rest of our lives, not just in three-month increments. LetthisMcGinnisfellowfindsomebodyelse.IfLeegothimselfkilledwhen he didn’t have to be out there, I was going to be really angry with him. [3.141.41.187] Project MUSE...