Read Online War Baby by Colin Falconer - Free Book Online Page A

the arm?’
    ‘Still bloody sore. You got back from Quang Ngai in one piece?’
    ‘Brought you this.’ He held up two bottles of Courvoisier. ‘From the PX at Danang. A small token of my esteem. That bullet in your shoulder had my name on it.’
    ‘Then it’s a bloody good job you’ve got a short name.’ Ryan took the proffered bottles. ‘Been hearing great things about you, mate. Croz reckons you’re David Bailey in jungle greens.’ He unscrewed the Courvoisier and fetched two beer glasses. He splashed some brandy in each. ‘Health.’
    ‘Long life.’
    ‘Christ, no. If I thought I was going to have a long life I’d have to start eating properly and taking care of myself. ‘He sat down on the end of the bed, resting the Courvoisier on one knee. Dust drifted on the yellow sunlight that slanted through the blinds. ‘So, you’ve been here six weeks. Have you figured out a reasonable political solution for the Vietnam people?’
    ‘No, have you?’
    ‘Know what this American colonel said to me the other day? He had the perfect solution, he reckoned. First, you go round the whole country, get everyone you’re absolutely certain is on your side and you put them on a boat. You sail that boat into the China Sea. Then you nuke the whole country, north and south. And then . . .’ Ryan drained his brandy and poured another. ‘… then you sink the boat. It’s called Winning Hearts and Minds.’
    ‘The Americans can’t win this. Trying to find the Viet Cong is like trying to find a needle in the proverbial haystack.’
    ‘Know how the Americans find a needle in a haystack? They napalm the haystack and anything that’s left is going to be a needle.’
    Webb didn’t like thinking about the politics of the war. What had seemed like a simple conflict between his country’s traditional allies and the communists, a word he had equated with villainy from childhood, was in reality far more complex, more tragic, more disturbing. For the first time he had started to wonder if he was on the right side.
    Ryan finished his brandy. Webb held out the bottle and poured three fingers into his glass. The opium smoke and the brandy was already making him light-headed. ‘You ever think of getting out of Vietnam?’ he said.
    Ryan shook his head. ‘It’s not much of a war, but right now it’s the only one I’ve got.’
     
    * * *
     
    The noise of the Saigon traffic was muted, almost drowned out by the chirrup of crickets. A few old amahs squatted on their haunches on the grass and sparrows fussed and fluttered in the bushes.
    Ryan wandered around the botanic gardens for almost half an hour before he found her, sitting alone on a wooden bench in the shade of a giant tamarind tree. She was wearing a white silk ao dai with a mandarin collar, her hands clutched tightly at her knees. She looked as fragile as porcelain.
    He sat down beside her. She did not look up.
    ‘Odile,’ he said.
    He had not called her ‘sister’, as she was accustomed. ‘Monsieur Ryan,’ she said, carefully.
    ‘I thought you might not come.’
    ‘But of course. I promise you.’
    It was sticky hot and his shoulder itched under the swathe of bandages. ‘I can’t stop thinking about you. Night and day. I even dream about you.’
    ‘It is a sin. I am for God. You must ask for absolution.’
    ‘From you?’
    ‘From your confessor.’
    ‘I don’t have a confessor.’
    ‘You make my life impossible,’ she whispered.
    ‘Like you’re making mine.’
    ‘I do not do anything to you!’
    ‘You drive me crazy. Isn’t that enough?’
    ‘If you do not stop, I will go.’
    ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry.’
    ‘If you do not confess your thoughts, you will be damned!’
    ‘Damned if I do, damned if I don’t,’ Ryan said. He touched her arm, very lightly. She gasped. ‘Listen, I haven’t met many women that I’ve really admired. Not just for their looks, for what they are.’
    ‘It is impossible for us. I come here today to tell you