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The Vietnam War

by

Daniel Finneran

Jason Cummings looked up at the clock on the wall, knew it was time, rose,

walked out of the break-room, and out onto the production floor. The loud ongoing whirr

of all the machines -- this room about a football field in length, he often thought, and

almost that in width -- for a moment abated. Though no windows, he would sometimes

think, I wonder why no windows.

Tonight he was on the glue-gun, and after all the deodorant was packed, he would

take the glue-gun, seal the boxes, and load them onto the pallets.

He was all prepared, the machines again back on, everyone speaking in a near

yell, the stick deodorants, hundreds, now coming down the line, rolling over the rollers,

and he put his earplugs in, which he hated wearing, but were required, and soon he would

be packing the boxes.

He saw Binh -- tall, and thin, but somehow always upbeat. He thought he was a

good guy.

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Hey, Binh.

Hey, how you doing? he said.

Passing behind him, another Vietnamese guy. Jason looked over at him, and

nodded Hi. This guy nodded back, gave a quick, somewhat snide look at Binh, and

moved on, and Binh looked back, waited for him to pass, and then moved closer to Jason.

You dont understand do you? That guy -- he VC. He kill a lot of Americans you

know. He not a good man.

Really, said Jason.

He VC, said Binh. Jason looked up from his glue-gun, and between the two of them, the deodorant sticks kept on rolling. Maybe not a lot of glitches tonight. Which was

rare. There was just a certain look on Binhs face: He kill a lot of Americans that man.

He not a good guy. Binh looked impassioned. Jason had not seen a lot of Vietnamese

with that kind of look on their faces.

At the 5:30 break for dinner Jason was eating with some of the guys from

shipping, that he knew from a few stints out in the warehouse, and Jason saw Binh over

in the line, getting his dinner.

Most of the Vietnamese brought their own dinners in with them -- they used a lot

of Tupperware type containers -- though Binh now and then ate in the cafeteria. A few

weeks ago, he had shown him a picture of his little daughter, and he already had her in

Catholic School, saying that the public schools were too rough. Ridiculous, he had said,

ridiculous, and he nodded, with a wave, to Binh. You guys ever talk to Binh? You know

him at all, said Jason.

Yeah, good guy, said Tony, a huge guy.

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Good guy, said Tom, who was just coming back from a stint with the Army

Reserves.

He ever talk to you about the Vietnam War?

Tom, who was a wiry, somewhat hyperactive guy, smiled. I guess a few of these

guys were VC. The Vietnamese -- they get pissed about it. I mean pissed.

Remember that little guy. Who was out with us, a few months ago? said Tony.

Sure. Quan. A little guy. He made sure -- I mean he didnt brag about it or

anything -- but I was talking to him when he was unloading one of the trucks. He made

sure he let me know he fought -- and that he fought for the South.Wow. Amazing, said Jason.

Its like were gonna have our own Vietnam War, right here, said Tom, and

laughed a bit.

It really is, said Jason. I mean Binh -- he was pissed.

Oh, yeah man, said Tom. Theres some heavy tension around here I guess. I

guess some of these guys really were VC.

Tony, who was a huge man, and had played tackle in high school, chewed his

food for a bit, and he wiped the edge of his mouth with a napkin: That War. I dont

know if we should have gone over there, or why we there, or why we lost. But that War

sure screwed a lot of things up.

There was silence for a bit. Jason watched Binh over at the salad bar, quietly

making a salad, and thought about how, later that night, he would probably talk to Binh

when he ran into him on the production floor, as he often did. He wasnt exactly sure

why, but he enjoyed talking to him. Jason just, for a moment more, watched Binh, in his

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blue mechanics uniform, meticulously making his salad. It sure did, man. It just

screwed up a lot of things, said Jason. It just screwed up a lot of things, he said, and

then he could tell no one really felt like talking about it much more, and then everyone

went back to eating.

-- END --

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