Battle Fatigue by Mark Kurlansky Page B

tube breaks and then looks sadly down at the sink and says, “Isn’t that a shame.” You never know if he is saying that about the experiment, the broken test tube, or the stain on his coat. Or is it about the way he flinches? Or does he just think it’s a shame that the kids are all laughing?
    I have a chemistry set and I try to do some of these experiments at home. I tell my little brother, Sam, that we are going to have a chemistry class and learn to explode things. He gets very excited and sits in front of me full of expectations. I model myself after Mr. Wizard, a television character that was popular when I was little. On the show, Mr. Wizard spoke very quickly and demonstrated dazzling science experiments. Only all of mine fail. I cannot produce even one explosion. Can I ever really be a chemist? Sam tells our mother that I promised explosions and haven’t produced anything. My mother has taken away my chemistry set.
    You know, I try to work with Sam, but he doesn’t make it easy.

Chapter Fourteen
    The First Night of My War
    It is early August, the height of baseball season. Koufax is still pitching no-hitters for the Dodgers, but the Cardinals, the Reds, the Phillies, and the Giants all look good. The Yankees are also looking good, but so are the White Sox. The Red Sox are nowhere in sight. Maybe I should have stuck with the Dodgers, but to me the Dodgers aren’t the Dodgers anymore—just some team in LA using the same name.
    The Red Sox are beginning a three-day series with the White Sox tonight. It’s on the radio but not on television and Boston will probably lose anyway. A movie about the Battle of the Bulge is being shown on television and my uncle has come over to watch it with my brother and me. We have all snuggled into our places, my uncle in the overstuffed chair where he will seem to be asleep until suddenly he will utter something in a low voice.
    We have all settled in, but it is too early for the movie. We turn on the television anyway and watch the CBS Evening News with Walter Cronkite . The show is a favorite of my parents’. Walter Cronkite has the world’s best voice and seems to know everything. He narrates a lot of shows about World War II that I have watched with my uncle. I have learned more about World War II from Walter Cronkite than from my family.
    Tonight there is news from a place called Tonkin—the Gulf of Tonkin. Lyndon Johnson, the president who replaced Kennedy but who is not young or charming, is on television. The president has a slow, soft, southern way of talking that makes everything seem a bit boring and unimportant.
    â€œLast night I announced to the American people that the North Vietnamese regime had conducted further deliberate attacks against U.S. naval vessels …”
    I’m only half listening. I can tell by the sound of Johnson’s voice that this is nothing important or even interesting.
    â€œCommunists,” my uncle mutters.
    What have the Communists done now? Why are they always making trouble? This time it is the Vietnamese, the North Vietnamese. It seems to me that I have heard of this place, Vietnam, before. It must be near Laos, which is somewhere in Asia and has been in the news a lot. It has always seemed like a poetic name—Laos, the Laotians. “Vietnam” and “the Vietnamese” do not sound as beautiful.
    Some of our navy ships had been attacked in international waters. Johnson says that he ordered an “air action” against the boats and facilities that were used in the attack. The air action has already taken place, he says, “with substantial damage to the boats and facilities.”
    Wait a minute! What are they saying? “Substantial damage.” Johnson can slowly drawl anything away, but I know what he means. Suddenly I am seeing the whole thing. We have done substantial damage and they have shot down two American airplanes.
    This is a war! Just like World