And please see my childhood memoir, When I Was German, available:
At Barnes & Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/when-i-was-german-alan-wynzel/1116946664?ean=2940045270991
At Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/356144
At Kobo: http://www.kobobooks.com/ebook/When-I-Was-German/book-Yggik0p7ZUGyhMYqTTN2wg/page1.html?s=iVi7ZinlUkG-F-aEidZXYQ&r=1
At Inktera: http://www.inktera.com/store/title/06c86017-5f7a-4351-aef8-1ccfc9ff65bd
And at Apple using iBooks, search in iBooks on "wynzel"
Throwing
the Game
Nick
shut the office door. He was remembering
Vietnam.
Firebase
Cox had no earthbound anchor. It pitched
screaming atop a roaring sea of mud in a storm of flame and mortar fire. To tip from the edge of the earth was its
certain destiny. It was Nick’s second
night in-country. He lay in the cool
mud, wrapped in fear around the tree roots winding through the slit
trench. When the sergeant crawled past
and shouted for him to shoot, Nick leapt and banged away with his M16. Once the sergeant passed, he fell and
clutched the roots again. Rations and
water were passed forward, ammunition replenished, even the Captain slithered
past in the mud. The NVA kept coming
through the wire. But to Nick it was all
just one long storm.Broken only the Hueys. They brought the supplies and replacements. Like they brought in Nick, “the stupid, pot smoking ass who failed out of college and the Army got him”, his old man had said. “Screwing around with his guitar when he should have been working on his Accounting degree, should have passed his exams no sweat since his old man is an accountant!”
“Accounting is a lot of calculation, Nicky,” his old man continued, “but it’s all for the purpose of a final reckoning: what’s the value of something? And this Vietnam, it’s not worth your life. I can’t help you now.” And his tearful father turned and hurried away, leaving Nick dumbstruck on the parade ground. Then the sergeants cried out from the idling buses and all the new soldiers embarked to meet their destinies in Asia.
Nick’s destiny was Firebase Cox. A Huey brought him in. But they didn’t leave empty. They took the wounded home.
And on his second night in Vietnam, with the NVA closing in, Nick performed his own calculations and made his own reckoning.
With none of his squad in sight, he stuck his left foot in a small crater in the trench. His own live hand grenade followed. He lay back and began to scream before it even blew.
When he awoke he was in a hospital in the Philippines. There was a nub where his left foot should have been. It hung all day and night from a wire before him. He didn’t look at it.
Three days later an Army lawyer came, sat down, and began asking questions. His name was Captain Ballard.
“How did your own hand grenade detonate in the trench, Private Taylor?”
“I threw it at some gooks.”
“They were in the trench?”
“No, out by the perimeter wire.”
“So how did your grenade detonate in the trench if the enemy was out by the wire?”
“I guess they threw the grenade back at me.”
“And it went in the shell hole. And your foot was there.”
“I don’t remember, sir. Maybe I kicked it in the hole. I’m in a lot of pain, sir.”
Ballard closed his notebook.
“I know what happened, Private. You should do ten or more in Leavenworth for it. The war isn’t over on the ground but it’s long finished in the hearts and minds. So what’s the sense?” Ballard stood. “You’ll get a Purple Heart. Notch it for score one in your favor.”
“Yes sir.”
“What are you going to do when you get home, Private?”
“Go back to college, sir. Become an accountant like my dad. Follow the straight and narrow.”
Ballard snorted and left.
Thirty years later Nick sat in his cool, quiet office. He was a financial analyst for a major corporation. He had taken the straight and narrow path and come to hate it. He wondered whether he had lived his life since Vietnam for his father’s sake or to atone for the silent ugly thing in his left shoe.
It didn’t matter. He didn’t want to do this shit anymore. And soon he wouldn’t have to. Only a few knew, he amongst them: the company was bankrupt. The books had been cooked, the earnings statements were lies and despite the quiet hum of the air conditioning and the peaceful throng in the corridors, the firebase was about to be overrun. The NVA were pouring through the wire and the whole corruption was about to pitch off the edge of the earth. Nick wasn’t high enough to be implicated, but he knew. The company was broke and they would all lose their jobs, their pensions, and their stock.
Nick had three kids in college. He was already carrying two mortgages on his house. And he was fifty and didn’t want to start all over again.
But Nick knew one other thing. The company was very well insured for liability. It had to be, since it was a shipping company. Employees didn’t just slam their thumbs in file cabinets. In Nick’s company they were sometimes crushed by falling crates, fell from the backs of tractor trailers, or were even run over by speeding forklifts.
Like Nick was later that week while on an auditing assignment at a regional site. He was crossing the warehouse floor on his way to the cafeteria, just emerging from behind a cluster of pallets when he was hit. It was funny how he didn’t look before he crossed the redlined forklift byway. The speeding machine crushed his right foot.
A lawyer came to Nick within a day. He talked about dangerous conditions on the site, poor lighting, obstructions, and improper operation of heavy equipment. The lawyer promised a big settlement. Nick hired him, scrawling his name in a morphine-looped script across the contract.
A few weeks later the lawyer came to his home. Nick was strumming the guitar his son had bought him. “We can jam together, Dad,” his son had said. His son was nineteen and played in a band. Nick smiled.
Nick and the lawyer were sitting on the sofa when the handicap-access limo, sent by the company, arrived to take them to lunch at the best restaurant in town.
The lawyer slapped Nick on the back. “Looks real good,” he said.
“It does,” said Nick.
“The company lawyers and the insurance company lawyer are going to be there. Don’t say anything but hello. I’ll do all the talking. Just enjoy your lunch and relax.”
The company lawyers were friendly and deferential. They asked Nick about his progress. Nick shrugged and sighed while his attorney explained that Nick would experience pain for the rest of his life and would likely never walk again.
The insurance company lawyer was late. He didn’t arrive until the salad course was served.
“Mr. Taylor, a pleasure to meet you,” he said. “I’m Steven Ballard.”
“Captain,” Nick paled and fainted in his mixed greens.
He was surrounded by four concerned attorneys and the restaurant manager when he came to.
“Do you want to go home? We can postpone the meeting until later in the week.”
“No.” Nick looked at Ballard. “No, forget the meeting. Forget the whole damn thing.”
“Nick, let’s get you home,” his lawyer said.
“No.” Nick nodded at Ballard. “He knows me. The game is up. I walked in front of the forklift. I did it on purpose, for the money. Just like I wanted out of Vietnam, so I fragged my own foot. He was there. He knew my game. Right, Ballard?”
Ballard said nothing.
The company lawyers stormed off, outraged and threatening a countersuit. Nick’s lawyer stared at him for a long time. Then he shook his head and rose.
“Better find yourself a good attorney, Mr. Taylor. An expert in Insurance Fraud.”
Ballard remained, staring.
“So, what are you going to tell me? Now justice is done?” Nick said.
“No. You should have kept your mouth shut.”
“Why?”
“I knew it was you as soon as I saw the paperwork. I never forgot you. For a long time I despised you for what I thought was cowardice and treachery. But that was too simple an explanation. Dammit, you took your own foot to get out of a bad place! Maybe, I came to think, it took courage to do something like that to survive.”
“No. I’m a coward. And I’m sick, so very, very sick.”
“I don’t think so. Taylor, I’m in the trench now. I was in practice with a crooked partner. He made shady deals and we went bankrupt. Now I’m lucky to have this job with the insurance company, and it doesn’t pay worth shit. The bank is foreclosing on my home. We would have paid you a million to keep this out of court. I was pushing for it, for you. And me. We could have split it.”
Nick fought the impulse to pitch beneath the table.
“You tried it twice, Taylor. But you’re only one for two, because you threw the game, you fool.”
Ballard shrugged and left.
***
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