Red Flags Read Online Free PDF

stateside fatigues, no nametag or rank insignia. Freckles and golden-red stubble speckled his cheeks.
    "Sir," he said, gesturing for me to get in while he signed for a courier pouch and handed the clipboard back up to the crew chief.
    Miser said, "Good day ... Private, is it?"
    "Yes, Sergeant. PFC Checkman. I clerk for the CO, Colonel Bennett."
    He hefted the mailbag and our duffels, threw them into the jeep, and slid behind the wheel as the Otter taxied away. Miser stepped up into the back, I took the front passenger seat, and we drove off at a leisurely pace.
    "Which way should I look for the skyline?" Miser said.
    Checkman's forehead furrowed. "I can make a quick loop and show you."
    We passed by the Vietnamese guard post and rolled down a straight dirt strip, flat and wide. Across the airfield were the outskirts of the town: a scattering of tin-roofed shacks and two-story stucco buildings.
    Miser scanned the horizon.
    "Jesus H. Christ," he said. "Who the fucking hell lives out here?"
    "Montagnards," Checkman replied. "Thousands of 'em. Jarai especially. Cheo Reo is the Jarai heartland."
    "It's strange," Miser said. "I never even heard of Phu Bon Province."
    Checkman beeped a goat out of the way. "It didn't exist until recently. It was just Montagnard territory. Saigon decided it wanted a stronger government presence and made Cheo Reo a provincial capital."
    We turned left, past the MACV compound, and entered the metropolis.
    "Cheo Reo's a Montagnard clan name," Checkman explained as we slowed. "The government forced them to rename it Hau Bon. Changed all the Yard names of villages and rivers to Vietnamese. But everyone still calls it Cheo Reo."
    The so-called capital was a shantytown. "The whole place is maybe six thousand Vietnamese," Checkman said, stopping the vehicle. He slipped out from behind the wheel, courier pouch in hand. Kids immediately made a playground of the jeep as we walked away. Each child was immaculate, wearing clean if worn clothes. Unlike urban waifs, not one propositioned us for candy or cigarettes or tried to rent us his sister.
    Nothing was paved. A hard-dirt street led to the market square, an open area circled with canvas-roofed stalls, goods spread on the shaded platforms beneath them. One dais held produce; another, stacks of dried fish. An old woman squatted beside a pyramid of rice. A butcher displayed the heads of monkeys and a small black deer the size of a Labrador. Two slaughtered ducks and a chicken hung upside down beside a goat and a couple of bats. A man bicycled past, holding an umbrella against the sun, and called out a melodic greeting to Checkman. Checkman answered in Vietnamese.
    Nearby, a few barefoot women in sarongs and black shirts sat on their haunches beside carrier baskets in which they'd brought modest piles of tomatoes, onions, and peppers.
    "Yards," Checkman said. "Jarai. Don't often see them in town. The Viets won't let them hang around long."
    A small truck lumbered into the market area, a gorgeous dead tiger draped across its hood. A crowd gathered.
    "Catch this," Miser said. "Commercial opportunities in Cheo Reo."
    "You picturing clients on safari?" I said.
    We went to touch the beast's fur and huge teeth. A GI, passing on the other side of the road, shouted to Checkman: "Hey, Private Muff Diver! Careful that slope pussy don't eat you." He ducked away fast when he saw my captain's bars.
    Checkman interviewed the hunters and turned back to us. "They're saying it walked into an ambush last night. I don't know. Militias haven't gone out patrolling at night in months, and it's not all shot up. The pelt's near perfect." He ran a hand over the rich coat. "Must be worth a lot."
    Miser said, "Its choppers and guts are worth even more."
    "Right, right," Checkman said, "local healers. I'll show you the neighborhood pharmacy," and he took us to a stall where a bear's full hide, including the head, lay draped over one wooden barrel. A large preserved iguana was curled up on