Phoebe Hinkle > Status Update

(the squad found a Vietnamese guy with two dud mortar rounds and a group of kids, presumably giving them a lesson on how to set booby traps.)

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As we get close, one of the kids spots us and yells something in Vietnamese. Startled, the man turns to face us, trying to turn his alarm into a sheepish, crooked-toothed smile. He looks young, probably not much older than me.

Corbin shakes his head disapprovingly. “This sure doesn’t look like Sunday school to me. Usin’ shells for a pulpit? Where’s your ID card, Charlie?”

The man tilts his head to the side, squinting at Corbin. “What you say, GI?”

“Your ID – identification,” Corbin repeats, and Kinh translates the command.

“Charlie” makes a show of going through his pockets, finally spreading his hands wide with a mystified shrug. “Card fall out,” he says, trying to sound innocent. “Giap not have it.”

“That’s obvious enough,” I retort. Gesturing to the five children, who are huddled together under Casey’s watchful eye, I ask him, “Are the kids yours?”

Giap scratches his head. Even after Kinh interprets again, he still won’t answer, pressing his lips together in a pout. Corbin gives a huff.

“You won’t get anywhere with him, Parker. Take ‘em all back to An Hoa, and turn ‘em over to S-2. I’ll call in the engineers to get rid of these shells.”