The Vietnam War: A Short Story

“I’m still undecided. Give me a week or so to think about it,” I said, listening for the mockingbird. It must have felt safe because I heard only the wind in the trees and Leo’s voice pushing me to join him. “I don’t want to waste the summer thinking and talking.” “I just want to think clearly,” I responded. “That’s why I want you to come. We need a thinker to tell the story of our war.” “We wouldn’t get the same benefits our fathers did in Vietnam,” I said. “For example,” Leo asked? “For one thing, Bob Hope is dead, and we would be deprived of seeing Beyoncé in red, white, and blue panties like the ones Raquel Welch wore for the troops.” Leo gave a frown, and I was about to retell the story of my dad trading a week of leave to his
To the east of our house, white shingled rooftops pointed to the foothills east of Poway. Our pine, plank fence stood behind our orange and grapefruit trees. Along the northern boundary, ivy grew over the fence. I thought that I should prune the ivy before I got a summer job. Cleaning up the backyard would please my mom. If I started pruning, I would have to prune the bottle bush, which grew next to the pineapple guava along the western fence. The kitchen of our blue ranch house stood east of our bottle bush. The patio was attached to the middle of the house and on the east side of the house was the window in Dad’s study. I lived my entire life in this house and leaving it for a foreign adventure made me uncomfortable. I thought about these ideas to keep myself from thinking about enlisting. I knew Leo would not drop the subject. Leo and I were best friends. Our fathers were best friends. Our mothers were best friends. We told each other that our families were one big happy family. Leo and I had many things in common. In high school, Leo made all conference as an outfielder. I was an honorable mention as a first baseman. Leo was an A student, and I was an A+