Men killed, and died, because they were
embarrassed not to.
(See Important Quotations Explained)
Summary
Lieutenant Jimmy Cross, of the Alpha Company, carries
various reminders of his love for Martha, a girl from his college
in New Jersey who has given no indication of returning his love.
Cross carries her letters in his backpack and her good-luck pebble
in his mouth. After a long day’s march, he unwraps her letters and
imagines the prospect of her returning his love someday. Martha
is an English major who writes letters that quote lines of poetry
and never mention the war. Though the letters are signed “Love,
Martha” Cross understands that this gesture should not give him
false hope. He wonders, uncontrollably, about whether or not Martha
is a virgin. He carries her photographs, including one of her playing
volleyball, but closer to his heart still are his memories. They
went on a single date, to see the movie Bonnie and Clyde. When
Cross touched Martha’s knee during the final scene, Martha looked
at him and made him pull his hand back. Now, in Vietnam, Cross wishes
that he had carried her up the stairs, tied her to the bed, and
touched her knee all night long. He is haunted by the cutting knowledge
that his aff-ection will most likely never be returned.
The narrator, Tim O’Brien, describes the things all the
men of the company carry. They are things in the most physical sense—mosquito
repellent and marijuana, pocket knives and chewing gum. The things
they carry depend on several factors, including the men’s priorities
and their constitutions. Because the machine gunner Henry Dobbins
is exceptionally large, for example, he carries extra rations; because
he is superstitious, he carries his girlfriend’s pantyhose around
his neck. Nervous Ted Lavender carries marijuana and tranquilizers
to calm himself down, and the religious Kiowa carries an illustrated
New Testament, a gift from his father.
Some things the men carry are universal, like a compress
in case of fatal injuries and a two-pound poncho that can be used
as a raincoat, groundsheet, or tent. Most of the men are common,
low-rank-ing soldiers and carry a standard M-16 assault
rifle and several magazines of ammunition. Several men carry grenade
launchers. All men carry the figurative weight of memory and the
literal weight of one another. They carry Vietnam itself, in the
heavy weather and the dusty soil. The things they carry are also
determined by their rank or specialty. As leader, for example, Lieutenant
Jimmy Cross carries the maps, the compasses, and the responsibility
for his men’s lives. The medic, Rat Kiley, carries morphine, malaria
tablets, and supplies for serious wounds.
One day, when the company outside the Than Khe area is
on a mission to destroy tunnel complexes, Cross imagines the tunnels collapsing
on him and Martha. He becomes distracted by wondering whether or
not she is a virgin. On the way back from going to the bathroom,
Lavender is shot, falling especially hard under the burden of his
loaded backpack. Still, Cross can think of nothing but Martha. He
thinks about her love of poetry and her smooth skin.
While the soldiers wait for the helicopter to carry Lavender’s body
away, they smoke his marijuana. They make jokes about Lavender’s
tranquilizer abuse and rationalize that he probably was too numb
to feel pain when he was shot. Cross leads his men to the village
of Than Khe—where the soldiers burn everything and shoot dogs and
chickens—and then on a march through the late afternoon heat. When
they stop for the evening, Cross digs a foxhole in the ground and
sits at the bottom of it, crying. Meanwhile, Kiowa and Norman Bowker
sit in the darkness discussing the short span between life and death
in an attempt to make sense of the situation. In the ensuing silence,
Kiowa marvels at how Lavender fell so quickly and how he was zipping
up his pants one second and dead the next. He finds something unchristian
about the lack of drama surrounding this type of death and wonders
why he cannot openly lament it like Cross does.
The morning after Lavender’s death, in the steady rain,
Cross crouches in his foxhole and burns Martha’s letters and two
photographs. He plans the day’s march and concludes that he will
never again have fantasies. He plans to call the men together and
assume the blame for Lavender’s death. He reminds himself that,
despite the men’s inevitable grumbling, his job is not to be loved
but to lead.
