Pixie With A Gun

Pixie With A Gun

Jacob Evans was five six and rail thin with a face like Howdy Doodie, round and freckly and always with a goofy grin. He was also tough as nails and humped his shit as well as any man in the company, never complaining and when the shooting started he was always there, firing away, bringing ammo, throwing grenades, carrying the wounded to cover.

I met him in Basic Training, he slept in the bunk above me and we grew tight. We were both poor kids, him from Detroit, me from Brooklyn. The difference was that he loved the army and planned to stay in. "You can't beat it Potter," he would say often," Free room and board, medical, money in your pocket, what's not to like...Yep, I have found a home in the army." And he never changed his tune either, even after a year in the bush.

He laughed at my plan to go to college when I got out, especially after grabbing my little black diary book and reading some of my writing out loud, "There is a mystery to this place and the men around me..." was as far as he got before I grabbed it back. "Ain't no mystery to me," he said laughingly, "Kill or be killed, then get to Saigon and get your dick wet. That's all that's goin' on here."

That was Jake, life seemed simple to him, or that's what he wanted people to think. But I knew better because of the way he acted when mail showed up. I mean mail was everything, our one link to home, to that other life where one was safe, where one had a family, where one could be loved. So, yes, getting a letter was everything and we all got them...everyone but Jake who never got one.

He tried not to show his hurt, that nobody back home gave a shit about him, that despite that everlasting goofy grin he needed what we all needed while we were lost and lonely in that dark place. That's when his smile would fade and he'd manically clean his already cleaned rifle or slurp "K's" with his head down till we were done reading our mail.

But other than these mail call moments this wiry orphan was a shining breath of fresh air for all of us, brave and clear eyed even when the shit was the deepest. For me he was the keeper of the gate, a pixie with a gun who never flinched, a rare blithe spirit who kept the dank smell of death at bay.

And so it stayed until our last day in the bush when the first chopper came with the mail. We were supposed to be on it but there were so many wounded that we had to wait for the next one. No big deal, the next one was already in sight. A few minutes more and we'd be headed back to the World.

Then here came Sergeant Kendall with a fistful of mail. "Hey,Evans,must be a mistake, you got a letter." he said with a chuckle. "What the fuck is this?" asked Evans with surprise, waving the envelope at me. "Open it and find out,stupid." I said.

He did so,stared at the contents then passed it to me with a quizzical look on his face. It was a check for $20,000 dollars, a settlement for his mother's death in a car accident several years before.

He thought for a while, took a deep breath and said, "Gimme' your pen." I handed it to him, he scribbled something on the back then handed the pen and check to me. "I got no use for it, the army is my mom and dad now, it'll take care of me." I replied, "I can't take this."

At that moment we heard a whistling sound we both knew well and we threw ourselves on the ground. "Incoming!" someone yelled as mortar rounds exploded around us. Boom, boom, boom...it seemed to go on forever like it always did, then just as suddenly the attack ended and a new sound took over, the heavy thump, thump of rotors as our helicoptor landed.

"Jake,let's go." I said. But Jake didn't answer, nor did he move. I rolled him oved and saw blood oozing from a small hole in his forehead, he was dead. In disbelief I screamed out "Medic!! We need a Medic over here!" and one came running over. "Potter!" Sergeant Kendall was pulling at me and yelling in my ear , "Get your ass on that 'chopper...right now!"

What could I do for Jake? Nothing. I was up and running and only when we were high above the jungle did I realize that I still clutched that $20,ooo dollar check in my hand. There was no thought, nothing to decide. I opened my hand and let the crumpled piece of paper fly out into the sunlit sky, hover for an instant then disappear from view.

Where it landed I have no idea, yet even now some fifty years later in this recurring nightmare I can see it clear as day...falling, falling, falling to where it truly belongs...on the lifeless body of the best friend I've ever had... Jacob Evans.