tried to scramble away and the grenade exploded.
By now there were shouts everywhere, as the panic he had sought for set in. As he moved on, he saw a road, Vietcong scrambling onto it. He eased back into the reeds to get his bearings and became aware of engines throbbing close by, but by then the late afternoon light was fading and it combined with the tropical rain to reduce everything to minimum visibility. A flare shot into the air, disappearing into the murk, a Huey Cobra gunship descended three hundred yards away and he heard others whirling above, but the Huey was too far away, and he plunged forward desperately, already too late.
The flare that Jackson had fired had worked, and two crewmen jumped out of the Huey and bundled the children inside quickly, followed by Sister Sarah.
The black crew chief lifted Jackson by the arms. ‘Let’s get out of here, man.’
‘But the Sergeant’s still out there, Sergeant Quinn.’
‘Hell, I know him.’ Shooting started again from the reeds and bullets thudded into the Huey. ‘Sorry, man, we’ve got to go. It’ll be dark any time and we’ve got to think of these kids.’
He raised Jackson to the waiting hands that pulled him in, followed and called to the pilot at the controls, ‘Let’s go.’
The Huey lifted. Jackson was actually crying and Sister Sarah leaned over him anxiously.
‘But what about the sergeant?’ she said.
‘There’s nothing we can do. He’s dead, he’s got to be dead. You heard all that shooting and the grenade exploding. He took on all those bastards single-handed.’ The tears poured down his cheeks.
‘What was his name?’
‘Quinn, Daniel Quinn.’ Jackson moaned in agony. ‘Christ, but it hurts, Sister,’ and then he passed out.
But Quinn was still in one piece, mainly because the enemy had assumed he’d escaped in the Huey. He made it to the river as darkness fell, thought about it, then decided that if he was to stand a chance he needed to be on the other side. He approached Bo Din cautiously, aware of the sound of voices, the light of the cooking fires. He slung his M16 around his neck, waded into the water, and with his combat knife sliced the line holding one of the flat-bottomed boats. The boat drifted out with the current, and he held on and kicked, Bo Din fading into the darkness. He made the other side in ten minutes, moved into the jungle and sat under a tree, enduring the heavy rain.
At first light, he moved out, opening a can of field rations, eating as he went. He hoped for a gunboat on the river, but there was no such luck, so he kept on walking through the bush, and four days later, as if returning from the dead, he arrived at Camp Four on his own two feet.
Back in Saigon, the general attitude was disbelief. His unit commander, Colonel Harker, grinned when Quinn, checked out by the medics and freshly uniformed, reported as ordered.
‘Sergeant, I’m at a loss for words. I don’t know which is more extraordinary – your heroism in the field or the fact that you made it back alive.’
‘That’s very kind, sir. May I ask about Jackson?’
‘He’s in one piece, though he nearly lost a lung. He’s at the old French Mercy Hospital. The Army runs it now.’
‘He behaved admirably, sir, and with total disregard for his own safety.’
‘We know that. I’ve recommended him for the Distinguished Service Cross.’
‘That’s wonderful, sir. And Sister Sarah Palmer?’
‘She’s helping out at the Mercy. She’s fine and so are all the kids.’ Harker held out his hand. ‘It’s been a privilege, son. General Lee will see you at headquarters at noon.’
‘May I ask why, sir?’
‘That’s for the General to tell you.’
Later, at Mercy, he visited Jackson, and found him in a light, airy ward with Sister Sarah sitting beside him. She came round the bed and kissed him on the cheek.
‘It’s a miracle.’ She appraised him quickly. ‘You’ve lost weight.’
‘Well, I wouldn’t recommend doing it the way I did. How’s our boy?’
‘His left lung was badly injured by that bayonet, but it will heal in time. No more Vietnam, though. He’s going home,’ and she patted Jackson’s head.
He was overjoyed to see Quinn. ‘Jesus, I thought you were long gone, Sergeant.’
‘Daniel,’ Quinn told him. ‘Always call me Daniel, and if there’s ever anything I can do for you back in the States, just call me. You hear? And congratulations on your Distinguished Service Cross.’
‘My what?’ Jackson was incredulous.
‘Colonel Harker’s put you up for it. It’ll go through.’
Sister Sarah kissed Jackson on the forehead. ‘My hero.’
‘This is the hero, Daniel here. What about you, Sarge?’
‘Oh, Christ, I don’t want any medals. Now settle down. All this fuss is bad for your lung. I’ll see you later.’ He nodded. ‘Sister.’ And walked out.
She caught up with him at the rail of the shaded terrace, lighting a cigarette, handsome in his tropical uniform.
‘Master Sergeant Quinn.’
‘Daniel will be fine for you, too. What can I do for you?’
‘You mean you haven’t done enough?’ She smiled. ‘Colonel Harker was kind enough to tell me a bit about your background. With all you have, why did you choose to come here?’
‘Easy. I was ashamed. What about you? You’re English, dammit. This isn’t your war.’
‘As I told you, we’re a nursing order. We go wherever we’re needed – it doesn’t matter whose war it is. Have you ever been to London? We’re based at St Mary’s Priory on Wapping High Street by the Thames.’
‘I’ll be sure to look you up the next time I’m there.’
‘Please do. Now would you like to tell me what’s troubling you – and don’t try to say you’re not troubled. It’s my business to know these things.’
He leaned against a pillar. ‘Yes.’ He shook his head. ‘I’ve killed before, Sister, but never like in the swamp. At least two of them at close range were young women. I was on my own, I had no choice, but still…’
‘As you say.’
‘But still a darkness came over me. I saw only the killing, the death and destruction. There was no balance, no order.’
‘If it worries you, make your peace with God.’
‘Ah, if only it were that simple.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘I’d better go. Generals don’t like to be kept waiting. May I kiss you goodbye?’
‘Of
