asked Lynch. Lynch was young and lanky, with mousey brown hair, big front teeth, and a strong, squared jawline. He was a US Cavalry lieutenant, just like Jacobs. “Do what?” “Kill a man.” “I’m not looking forward to it.” “That’s not what I asked. I didn’t ask was you looking forward to it.” Lynch licked his top row of teeth. “I asked, could you kill a man?” “Yeah, sure. I can … kill a man.” Jacobs cleared his throat. “I met many men in training,” continued Lynch, “that won’t call the enemy human. You see, they don’t wanna think of the gooks as men. They say thinking of them as anything more than a target could be dangerous. What do you make of that?” “It makes sense to me,” Jacobs said. Jacobs was stood in line on the airstrip with the other lieutenants in Long Binh. They all sported regulation hair, carried duffel bags, and wore crisp green new fatigues. Lynch was stood to his right, rocking slightly on the heels of his boots. They were waiting for the signal to board the C-130 transport plane, which was being loaded with cargo.
