“I mean, we didn’t have enough trouble from King Cong Janie telling us to put down our weapons, from people back home calling us baby-killers, from reporters asking us if we ever considered the moral consequences of our actions. Now, you’re telling us that the enemy is human. Talk about demoralizing the troops. She was getting to you, Abel.”

“We never talked politics.”

“Bullshit!” Decker said. “You knew she was orphaned, you knew her husband pimped her. She told you something about her personal life. Something to evoke pity in you. To see the other side as ‘people, too.’ And they are people. But you can’t think about that when you’re shooting at them. Otherwise, you can’t live with yourself.”

Silence. Finally, Abel said, “Could be.”

He finished his beer and squashed the can, thinking about Decker’s words, about all the times he and Song had made love. Her arms and legs wrapped around him, her hair streaming in his face, in his eyes and mouth. Had her smooth limbs, her velvet tresses, been snares? Their loving had seemed so pure, felt so holy. But back then, Abel now knew, his soul had been starved, willing to accept any morsel. Her love. Had it been nothing more than poisonous bait? He knew Decker was right about one thing. VC had been indistinguishable from the friendlies.

He bit his lip, then said, “We’ll never really know about Song, will we?”

“Not in this lifetime.”

“Well, maybe that’s good. Finding out the truth means one of us loses big.”

“This way, we both just lose,” Decker said.

“But not quite as big,” Abel said. “We can both rationalize.” He turned to Decker. “How’d you find out about her?”

“We captured her husband that morning. He had her picture in his pocket.” Decker lit up another cigarette. “Same picture she gave you. My eyes almost dropped to the floor. Guy had no qualms about giving his wife away. Guess he figured if he gave her to us, we’d be lenient with him. Bad strategy—it left him dead. God, what an absolute friggin’ mess!”

“And all this time, I thought it never bothered you.”

“What did you think?” Decker said. “I was made out of stone?”

“I just remember the look on your face when you fired,” Abel said. “You looked so happy.”

“Dope,” Decker said, “made everything look happy. No, I wasn’t happy, Atwater. I was terrified!” He finished a second can of beer and dropped his half-smoked cigarette in the empty can. “Like I said, if I was given a second chance, I might have handled it differently.” He stared at Abel. “But you still had no call to do what you did to Rina. She’s forgiven me, even forgiven you. But man, she was shaken. Poor girl has really been through the wringer. Then you pull a stunt like this.”

“It was low,” Abel said.