Ortega
As the Baker team guys got drunker and drunker, the music seemed to get faster and louder too.
That was no place for fifties music, nor for tourists. The songs were fast, the lyrics were all screamed, and there wasn’t anything old style about it. The Baker team had let themselves go as the night progressed. Looking around at the young people dancing in front of him, Ortega couldn’t help but think of Helen, and how much he missed her since they’d broken up.
That very day, Ortega had crashed on board a Huey helicopter but was, nonetheless still alive.
And that was just the first mission – said the voice in his head.
They’ll send us over-the-fence on the next one for sure.
In Ortega's mind Laos, Cambodia and North Vietnam were like a fourth dimension in space.
Ortega had done two years of training learning to fight in an area like that but it seemed impossible nevertheless that sooner or later he would actually end up there.
God only knew what the hell would really happen once they finally touched down. If their first in-country mission had been as crazy as it had however, then it was probably safe to say the next over-the-border ones would undoubtedly have been much worse.
You’ll never get home from this tour of duty alive.
That was the booze in him talking.
He knew it for sure because it wasn’t the first time that alcohol made him have some odd thoughts.
You’ll never get out of the SOG alive.
Ortega realized that despite not knowing any of the soldiers around him, they were all there together.
Most of them were a little younger than he was, but were about the same age as Johnny.
Ortega noticed that most of them were holding Vietnamese girls in their arms and although this made him miss Helen even more, he smiled at them nevertheless. They all acted as though they’d known the ladies for ever, but in all actuality, the majority of these guys were not even pronounce their Vietnamese girlfriend’s names.
That wasn’t what caught Ortega's attention the most however.
What really struck him was the amount of energy pouring out of all of them. It almost seemed like life itself. They were all ecstatic about being alive and you could see it a thousand miles away.
None of them had probably ever risked as much as Ortega had that day, but they didn’t need to because no one could ever really feel safe in Vietnam anyways. Every time you made it through the day safe and sound therefore you were thrilledabout still being intact.
And that night, he was too.
That’s why there was always so much partying going on in Vietnam. That may have been the only thing that damn war was good for. It made you feel grateful about being alive, and simply living itself was an extremely cool and exciting thing.
Ortega had had this feeling before.
It had happened on his first tour right after realizing he’d barely missed stepping on a French landmine.
If you thought about it, that wasn’t the kind of feeling you could get back in The U.S.
Ortega couldn’t look away from the image of those drunken guys dancing and joking with their Vietnamese girlfriends.
The soldiers cheered with every new song, singing and dancing until they almost burst. It looked like there were entire geysers of energy in them, and only by partying and dancing could they free it.
Every time a song was about to end the energy levels seemed to diminish with it. When a brand new song came on however, it wouldn’t take long for the guys to recognize it and they start all over again, with the same energy, right up to the next song.
People were red in the face and dripping with sweat, the drunks were completely out of control and, at that point, pretty much everyone was drunk.
Ortega finally set aside any reservations, and finally joined in on the dancing.
He lost Messner and Coletta almost as soon as he got to the dancefloor, and although he found himself surrounded by complete strangers, it didn’t seem to matter.
It was good to be alive.
Drinking was good, being with his friends was good, touching and talking to the girls was good, but hugging and kissing them was even better.
Ortega was so drunk that he didn’t know what he was doing any more. It was good to have a future and a whole life ahead of him. That’s what being young meant, you had your entire life to look forward to and that was something Vietnam had taught him.
Ortega jumped, sang, drank, and chain-smoked cigarettes moving his head to the rhythm nonstop.
What’ll I do if I live through this?
He lit himself another cigarette with his zippo but had trouble doing it because the flame was too high.
I don't want to die here.
Ortega then embraced a girl he’d never seen before but who looked free enough, and gave her a kiss on the neck.
There are so many things I still wanna do before I die.
I can't die here.
Although he loved Helen he’d just survived an almost certain death.
My life can't be that short.
It was easy to reach that kind of spiritual awareness in Vietnam, and those who did usually didn’t need long to get a broader outlook on that very existence.
When you do survive anything as horrible as that – like what the Baker team had just been through – joy, warmth and energy burst inside of you all at the same time. When they do, they’re all so intense that it’s hard to handle them, especially if you’re getting drunk to celebrate.
That night Ortega didn’t hold back, as one or as all, and hugged and kissed girls even if they were complete strangers. He went on like that for the better part of the night, up until when everything in front of him became out of focus and he felt confused.