The nurse put an ace bandage on Capt. Phillips’ wrist. Otherwise, he only had a few minor cuts and bruises. He was given a driver to take him back to Central Command North.
Another nurse put five stitches in the new Sgt. Collins shoulder and bandaged it. She then made the comment, “You’re lucky. Since you only got a flesh wound, your captain can put you in for a Purple Heart. But not enough to send you back home.”
“Is there any hope of getting a drink with you later?” Sgt. Collins asked.
She ignored his question with a question: “Where was your squad headed when you got ambushed?”
“We were escorting a couple of kids to the orphanage in Moi An.”
“There is no an orphanage in Moi An.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. Moi An is considered the home of the Vietnamese mafia. The only things you will find at Moi An are black market shops and whorehouses.”
The nurse only confirmed what Carl knew in his gut. For now, he had filed the information. Experience had taught him that he could use the information later for his benefit. He didn’t know when it would be. It turned out to be sooner than expected.
The nurse did one last check on his bandage, with instructions for changing it. Sgt. Collins walked out of the China Beach hospital disappointed about not getting a date with the nurse.
Outside, Capt. Phillips was waiting for him in a Jeep. “Hop in. We need to stop by Central Command before dropping you off at your hooch.”
Carl didn’t know what to expect from Capt. Phillips. He hesitated.
“Get in, Sergeant,” Capt. Phillips ordered. “We need to review the events for an after-action report.”
Carl relented and climbed into the back seat as Sgt. Jake Collins. He remained silent during the fifteen-minute ride to Central Command. During the entire trip, he attempted to play out in his mind what might happen next.
When they arrived, Capt. Phillips led Collins to his office. “Close the door and have a seat, soldier.” Capt. Phillips lowered himself behind his gray metal desk. “Would you like a beer?”
“Uh, yes, sir,” Carl never passed up an offer of a beer, but he didn’t know what to think about a superior officer offering him one.
Phillips reached in a small refrigerator behind him and tossed Collins a cold Hamms. “I suppose you are wondering why I had you exchange dog tags and shirt with Sergeant Collins.”
“I’m having trouble understanding your reasoning, sir.”
“Well, I have several reasons. For one, you saved my life. In my book, I owe you a big promotion. Two, you took on the role of Sgt. Collins as if was meant for you.
“Sir, what made you think I would obey the order even if it went against military regulations and switch dog tags and shirt with Collins?”
“Collins told me he thought you were Army C.I.D. But seeing your response under fire, I began to think he was wrong.”
“What makes you think I would be some kind of cop?”
“Collins told me he caught you changing details about your life. That made him think you were an undercover cop here to investigate me and my squad.”
“So, you having me switch shirts and dog tags proved I’m not a cop?”
“If you were a cop, you would have broken cover at the hospital.”
Carl took a swig from his beer as he pondered what Phillips had just told him. Then he asked, “What makes you think I can pull off being Sgt. Collins?”
“I’m pretty good at reading people. I can tell you have something to hide. You wouldn’t have gotten this far if you didn’t have the talent of making people believe you are someone you are not.”
Carl opened his mouth, but Phillips raised his hand before he could get any words out. “Let me finish. I don’t care who or what you did before showing up at the stockade. All I care about is that you obey my orders and keep both of us alive.”
“Like supplying children to whorehouses in Moi An?”
Phillips became tense before cautiously forming each word. “What makes you think we were taking them to a whorehouse?”
“I’m no dummy. Those children were not being taken to an orphanage. From what I saw, I believe they were being shipped off for adoption or to be used in some whorehouse.”
“How did you come to that conclusion?”
“During the ambush, I saw the children jump out of the truck and run toward the jungle after hearing someone shouting in Vietnamese. In addition, while we were getting checked out at the hospital. I was talking to this nurse. I told her what we were doing; she said there wasn’t an orphanage in Moi An.”
“It’s a relatively new orphanage. She would not have known about it.”
“I doubt that. She said that Moi An was known for being the center of the black market and whorehouses.
To hide his guilt, Phillips attempted to use his rank as Captain. “That’s none of your concern. You are just to obey my orders.”
“You being my superior means I have to obey your orders. I have done a lot of things that people who raised me would call a sin. But supplying children for the purpose they were to be used, I will not tolerate. If you continue, I will expose you to C.I.D. and the entire base.”
Carl sat there with a burning stare into Phillips’ eyes.
Phillips’ face turned beet red. “Do you realize you are costing me money?”
“I’m sure a smart officer like yourself will find other ways to make money.”
Phillips realized this enlisted man was no pushover. He had better change the subject. “Do you smoke?”
“No.”
“Get used to smoking a cigar from time to time. Sgt. Collins was known for a cigar hanging out of his mouth.”
“What if I don’t like or want to smoke cigars?”
“At the very least, carry one around in your pocket for a couple of weeks. Then when you get asked about not having a cigar, you can tell them since the ambush you have decided to quit.”
“In exchange for me walking around pretending to be the dead Sgt. Collins, what do you want from me?”
“I need someone in my back pocket, so to speak, to use when I’ve got some…not so legal activities to be done.”
“I want you to realize that for me to do your bidding, I will want your help in doing some things the way I want to do them.” Carl finished off his beer. “Don’t worry, those things will be to our mutual benefit.”
Capt. Phillips sat back in his chair. “I have to admit we do have leverage over each other.”
It was clear from the look on Capt. Phillips’ face; he was at the mercy of his new sergeant. “I’ll make the changes, but you will have to find a way for us to make money.”
Carl’s eyes shot up to the ceiling, and a smile came over his face. “Give me some time. I think I can come up with some ways we can both make a good deal of money.
“Oh, alright. But I still need to get replacements for the 4th squad.” Capt. Phillips said.
“From the stockade?”
“I get my best replacements from there. You don’t need to worry about it. Now, drink up.” The Capt. Phillips raised his beer toward Carl. “Well, Sgt. Jake Collins, you have some work to do before your replacements arrive.”
“What’s that?”
“You need to pack up the personal belongings of your dead squad members so they can be returned to family members.”
The new Sgt. Collins slowly rose out of his seat, saluted the Captain, and left his office, making sure the door wasn’t fully closed behind him.
