"When he left the ruins of the village and rode back
on the 10-ton thunder truck mounted with a quad-50 machine gun, the truck went up
along the Trẹm River. In the bright morning the deep green of cajeput was
breathtaking, the river white with water lilies along the edge of the riverbank,
and the scents of water lily flowers perfumed the air. He watched the river go
by and couldn’t make sense of what had happened. It did not add up. He watched
the storks taking flight from the river, going, going until they reached their
roosts in a cajput grove beyond, and he thought of a home with her.
Then he started crying."
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