not thought such a guilt-touched relationship was desirable between a psychiatrist and his patient; with each enusing apology over the months, he was less surprised at anything Cauvel might suggest), the doctor said, ‘Love.’
‘Girl.’
‘That's an evasion.’
‘Everything is an evasion.’
That observation appeared to surprise the doctor, but not enough to jar him out of the stubborn, wearying routine which he had begun. He said, after a slight pause, ‘Love.’
Already Chase was perspiring, and he did not know why. He finally said, ‘Myself.’
‘Very good,’ Cauvel said. And now the interchange of words went faster, one barked close after the other, as if speed counted in the scoring. Cauvel said, ‘Hate.’
‘Army.’
‘Hate.’
‘Vietnam.’
‘Hate!’ Cauvel raised his voice, almost shouted it.
‘Guns.’
‘ Hate!
‘Zacharia,’ Chase said, though he had often sworn never to repeat that name again or to remember the man attached to it or, indeed, to recall the events that man had perpetrated.
‘Hate,’ Cauvel said, more quietly this time.
‘Another word, please.’
‘Hate,’ Cauvel insisted.
‘Lieutenant Zacharia, Lieutenant Zacharia, Lieutenant Zacharia!’
Abruptly, the doctor brought an end to the game, though it had been much less complex than usual. He said, ‘Do you remember what Lieutenant Zacharia ordered you to do, Benjamin?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘What were those orders?’
‘We had sealed off the two back entrances to a Cong tunnel system, and Lieutenant Zacharia ordered me to clear the last entrance.’
‘How did you accomplish that?’
‘With a grenade, sir. Then, before the air round the tunnel face could clear, I went forward and used a machine gun.’
Then, Benjamin?’
‘Then we went down, sir.’
‘We?’
‘Lieutenant Zacharia, Sergeant Coombs, Privates Halsey and Wade, a couple of other men.’
‘And you.’
‘Yes, and me.’
Then?’
‘In the tunnels, we found four dead men and parts of men lying in the foyer of the complex. Lieutenant Zacharia ordered a cautious advance. A hundred and fifty yards along, we came across a bamboo grate behind which a number of villagers, mostly women, were stationed.’
‘How many women, Ben?’
‘Maybe twenty.’
‘Children?’
Chase sank down in the heavy padding, his shoulders drawn up as if he wished to hide between them. ‘A few.’
Then?’
‘We tried to open the grate, but the women were holding it shut with a system of ropes. When we ordered them out of the way, they would not move. The lieutenant said it might very well be a trap, designed to contain us at that point until the Cong could somehow get behind us. It was dark. There was a smell in that tunnel I can't explain, made up of sweat and urine and rotting vegetables, as heavy as if it had substance. Lieutenant Zacharia ordered us to open fire and clear the way.’
‘Did you comply?’
‘Yes. Everyone did.’
‘Later, when the tunnel had been demolished, you ran into the ambush which earned you your Medal of Honor.’
‘Yes,’ Chase said.
Cauvel said, ‘You crawled across the field of fire for a distance of nearly two hundred yards and brought back a wounded sergeant named Coombs. You received two minor but painful wounds in the thigh and calf of your right leg, but you did not stop crawling until you had reached shelter, at which point you secured Coombs behind a stand of scrub, and having reached a point on the enemy's flank by means of your heroic crossing of the open field, accounted for eighteen communist soldiers. Your actions, therefore, not only saved Sergeant Coombs’ life but contributed substantially to the well-being of your entire unit.’ He had only slightly paraphrased the wording on the scroll which Chase had received in the mail from the President himself.
Chase said nothing.
‘You see where this heroism came from, Ben?’
‘We've talked about it before. It came from guilt, because I wanted to die,