They were afraid of dying but they were even more afraid to show it

They would touch their bodies, feeling shame, then quickly hiding it. They would force themselves to stand. As if in slow motion, frame by frame, the world would take on the old logic—absolute silence, then the wind, then sunlight, then voices. It was the burden of being alive.

9TIM O’BRIEN2 The Things They Carriedand shoulders—and for all the ambiguities of Vietnam, all the mysteries and unknowns, there was at least the single abiding certainty that they would never be at a loss for things to carry.After the chopper took Lavender away, Lieutenant Jimmy Cross led his men into the village of Than Khe. They burned everything. They shot chickens and dogs, they trashed the village well, they called in artillery and watched the wreckage, then they marched for several hours through the hot afternoon, and then at dusk, while Kiowa explained how Lavender died, Lieutenant Cross found himself trembling.He tried not to cry. With his entrenching tool, which weighed 5 pounds, he began digging a hole in the earth.He felt shame. He hated himself. He had loved Martha more than his men, and as a conse-quence Lavender was now dead, and this was something he would have to carry like a stone in his stomach for the rest of the war.

now Ted Lavender was dead because he loved her so much and could not stop thinking about her. When the dustoff arrived, they carried Lavender aboard. Afterward they burned Than Khe. They marched until dusk, then dug their holes

He remembered kissing her good night at the dorm door. Right then, he thought, he should’ve done something brave. He should’ve carried her up the stairs to her room and tied her to the bed and touched that left knee all night long. He should’ve risked it. Whenever he looked at the photographs, he thought of new things he should’ve done

To carry something was to hump it, as when Lieutenant Jimmy Cross humped his love for Mar-tha up the hills and through the swamps. In its intransitive form, to hump meant to walk, or to march, but it implied burdens far beyond the intransitive

Until he was shot, Ted Lavender carried 6 or 7 ounces of premium dope, which for him was a necessity. Mitchell Sanders, the RTO, carried condoms. Norman Bowker carried a diary. Rat Kiley carried comic books. Kiowa, a devout Baptist, carried an illustrated New Testament that had been presented to him by his father, who taught Sunday school in Oklahoma City, Oklahoma.

hen at full dark he would return to his hole and watch the night and wonder if Martha was a virgin

He would imagine romantic camping trips into the White Mountains in New Hampshire. He would sometimes taste the envelope flaps, knowing her tongue had been there. More than anything, he wanted Martha to love him as he loved her, but the letters were mostly chatty, elusive on the matter of love.

aimlessly around rown, feeling sorry fo, *y.eli rhinking about the warand the pig factory and how rny life seemed ro be collapring towardslaughter. I felr paralyzed. All around me the oprions seemed ro benarrowing, as if I were hurrling down a huse black funne

I remember rhe rage in my sromach. Later ir burned down to asnroldering self-pity, rhen to numbness. Ar dinner rhat nighr my fatherasked what my plans were."Norhing," I said. " Wait.

Was ir a civil war?A war of national liberarior-r or simple aggressioni Who started it, andwhen, and whyi What realLy happened ro rhe llSS Maddox onthat darknight in the Gulf of Tonkini Was Ho Chi Minh a Communisr stooge,or a nationalist savior, or both, or neitheri What abour the GenevaAccordsi What about SEATO and rhe Cold Wari

The draft notice arrived onJune 17,1968.Ir was a humid afrernoon,I remembea cloudy and very quiec, and Id jusr conle in from a roundof golf. My mother and farher were having lunch our in the kitchen.I remember opening up the letter, scanning the firsr few lines, feelingrhe blood go rhick behind my eyes. I remember a sound in my head. Itwasnt rhinking, jusr a silenr horvl. A million rhings all ar once - I wasrco good for rl-ris war. Too sffrarc, too compassionate, too everything.It couldn't happen. I was above it. I had the world dicke

, For morethan twenty years I've had to live wirh ir, feeling rhe shame, rrying ropuslr ft away, and so by this act of remembrance, by putting the factsdown on paper, I'm hoping to relieve at least some of the pressure on mydreams. Sdll, it's :r hard story to tell. All of us, I suppose, like to believetha

The village soon heard that Sykes had the snake, and came to see and ask questions.

Syke! Syke, mah Gawd! You take dat rattlesnake 'way from heah! You gottuh. Oh, Jesus, have mussy!" "Ah aint gut tuh do nuthin' uh de kin'--fact is Ah aint got tuh do nothin' but die

Delia and Sykes fought all the time now with no peaceful interludes. They slept and ate in silence. Two or three times Delia had attempted a timid friendliness, but she was repulsed each time. It was plain that the breaches must remain agape

"Where did Syke Jones git da 'oman from nohow?" Lindsay asked.

Git whutsoever yo' heart desires, Honey. Wait a minute, Joe. Give huh two bottles uh strawberry soda-water, uh quart uh parched ground-peas, an' a block uh chewin' gum.

That sounded like a bad bump, Hally. HALLY: [Having a hard time controlling his emotions. He speaks carefully.] Mind your own business, Sam. SAM: Sorry. I wasn't trying to interfere. Shall we carry on? Hally? [He indicates the exercise book. No response from Hally.]

There's no collisions out there, Hally. Nobody trips or stumbles or bumps into anybody else. That's what that moment is all about. To be one of those finalists on that dance floor is like . . . like being in a dream about a world in which accidents don't happen.

So? I can use my imagination. SAM: And what do you get? HALLY: A lot of people dancing around and having a so-called good time. SAM: That all? HALLY: Well, basically it is that, surely.

Ja, well, maybe it's not art, then. But I still say it's beautiful. HALLY: I'm sure the word you mean to use is entertaining. SAM: [Adamant.] No. Beautiful. And if you want proof, come along to the Centenary hall in New Brighton in two weeks' time.

didn't say it was easy. I said it was simple - like in simple-minded, meaning mentally retarded. You can't exactly say it challenges the intellect. SAM: It does other things. HALLY: Such as? SAM: Make people happy

don't like Mohammed. I never have. I was merely being hypothetical. As far as I'm concerned, the Koran is as bad as the Bible. No. Religion is out! I'm not going to waste my time again arguing with you about the existence of God.

I tried. I looked at the chapters in the beginning and I saw one called "The Struggle for an Existence." Ah ha, I thought. At last! But what did I get? Something called the mistletoe which needs the apple tree and there's too many seeds and all are going to die except one . . . ! No, Hally. HALLY: [Intellectually outraged.] What do you mean, No! The poor man had to start somewhere. For [Goodness] sake, Sam, he revolutionized science. Now we know.

Well, I'll put my money on you in the English exam. HALLY: Piece of cake. Eighty percent without even trying. SAM: [Another textbook from Hally's case.] And history? HALLY: So-so. I'll scrape through. In the fifties if I'm lucky. SAM: You didn't do too badly last year.

So what happens when the exams come? HALLY: Failing a maths exam isn't the end of the world, Sam. How many times have I told you that examination results don't measure intelligence? SAM: I would say about as many times as you've failed one of them. HALLY: [Mirthlessly.] Ha, ha, ha. SAM: [Simultaneously.] Ha, ha, ha.

I know, I know! I oscillate between hope and despair for this world as well, Sam. But things will change, you wait and see. One day somebody is going to get up and give history a kick up the backside and get it going again. SAM: Like who? HALLY: [After thought.] They're called social reformers. Every age, Sam, has got its social reformer. My history book is full of them. SAM: So where's ours? HALLY: Good question. And I hate to say it, but the answer is: I don't know. Maybe he hasn't even beenborn yet. Or is still only a babe in arms at his mother's breast. [Gosh], what a thought.

That's the way they do it in jail. HALLY: [Flicker of morbid interest.] Really? SAM: Ja. When the magistrate sentences you to "strikes with a light cane." HALLY: Go on. SAM: they make you lie down on a bench. One policeman pulls down your trousers and holds your ankles, another one pulls your shirt over your head and holds your arms . . .

I know how to settle it. [Behind the counter to the telephone. Talking as he dials.] Let's give her ten minutes to get to the hospital, ten minutes to load him up, another ten, at the most, to get home and another ten to get him inside. Forty minutes. They should have been home for at least half an hour already. [Pause - he waits with the receiver to his ear.] No reply, chaps. And you know why? Because she's at his bedside in hospital helping him pull through a bad turn. You definitely heard wrong.

o then you will be in the competition. WILLIE: Only if I can find me a partner. HALLY: But what about Hilda? SAM: [Returning with a bowl of soup.] She's the one who's got trouble with her legs. HALLY: What sort of trouble, Willie? SAM: From the way he describes it, I think the lady has gone a bit lame

ut it's Thursday. There's no visiting on Thursday afternoons. Is my Dad okay? SAM: Sounds like it. In fact, I think he's going home. HALLY: [Stopped short by Sam's remark.] What do you mean? SAM: The hospital phoned. HALLY: To say what? SAM: I don't know. I just heard your Mom talking. HALLY: So what makes you say he's going home? SAM: It sounded as if they were telling her to come and fetch him

He gets up and moves the bucket. Stands thinking for a moment, then, raising his arms to hold an imaginary partner, he launches into an intricate ballroom dance step.

But don't let me see it. The secret is to make it look easy. Ballroom must look happy, Willie, not like hard work.

ou got it. Tapdance or ballroom, it's the same. Romance. In two weeks' time when the judges look at you and Hilda, they must see a man and a woman who are dancing their way to a happy ending. What I sawwas you holding her like you were frightened she was going to run away.

ecause she also make the hell-in, Boet Sam. She never got the steps right. Even the waltz. SAM: Beating her up every time she makes a mistake in the waltz? [Shaking his head.] No, Willie! That takes the pleasure out of ballroom dancing.

My iPhone fascinates them and they ask to see my braces, intently questioning how many “shillings” they cost. I open my mouth to satisfy their curiosity, but my grandmother calls out, and we all rush to see what she has made.