Chapter 5 John Chatterton

Chatterton himself was amazed that he was still alive to visit the museum.His previous life had been full of thrills, each of which was fatal enough for him, beyond the comprehension of those who now stood beside him.Now that he is 40 years old, married, and has a dream job, his past life seems to belong to someone else.But sometimes in places he walked by inadvertently, like this museum now, certain scenes can still remind him of the previous scene.The gray paintings hanging in the hall reminded him of 1970, and the events of that year still make his veins swell.The huge photo of the sea hanging on the wall next to him threw him back into the ocean of childhood memories.Today, he may not look much different from the people standing around him, but none of these people have ever experienced the life he had before.

He came into this world in the fall of 1951, the first child of Jack and Patricia.Their family was a typical example of the perfect family in the 1950s: Jack was a Yale graduate and a promising aerospace engineer for Sperry Corporation, an era when the word "aerospace" conjured up From the Martians and the death ray, and aerospace engineering is a job that can trigger countless reveries; Patricia is a 24-year-old fashion model who has just left the stage. Tall figure and cascading brown hair. When John was three, the family moved to a farm house in Garden City.This is a high-end residential area in the Long Island area, full of high-end white-collar workers in Manhattan, local business owners, and people like Eddie.A professional jockey like Akaruo.This is the perfect place to raise your kids and grow up.Life in Garden City is safe and peaceful.Living in spacious houses and watching color TV, they lead a happy new life.

When John was four, Patricia's second son was born.His name, Ma Kerui, was named after his maternal grandfather.When the two children reached school age, Garden City's standard of living improved again.The Long Island Railroad passes through this small town, and every community is lucky enough to have a stop.The Chattertons bought a big-screen TV and had access to electricity for heating.John also rides a new and beautiful bike. Patricia loves the beach so much that she often takes her two children on a 40-minute drive to Gilger Beach on Long Island's south coast.Once there, she will let the two children play freely.Barefoot, their feet burning with the heat of the sand, they hurried to the Atlantic waters to ease the heat from their feet.John's father never went to the seaside with them.He has a busy job and he doesn't like sand and sea water.

But it was the water that gave John a strange feeling.At home, few things excite him, nor at school.Reading is not interesting, and neither is Mickey Mouse.But as he stood knee-deep in the Atlantic waters and looked out to the horizon, he felt as if he were looking at a whole new world, a world that no one knew.When he got home, he would pull the T-shirt up to his face, trying to absorb the smell of the sea water, and even that made him feel strange. John felt that his family was slightly different from other children's families.His mother never beat around the bush when she spoke to him, she just said what was on her mind.John's father likes to have fun.But he doesn't like tossing a baseball or fishing like the dads on TV.Jack sat at his desk for hours at a time when he was home, working on his spaceflight equations and smoking four packs of Health every day.If he had a martini or two, he would wander around the neighborhood in a gorilla mask, cracking jokes on people.

After Jack starts drinking, Patricia urges him to be a good father.But he started working harder, smoking, and drinking in rebellion against his wife.In the end, Patricia decided that as long as her own father lived, she would have nothing to do with Jack. Patricia's father, Ray.Emmott.Arison, is a retired rear admiral.He was also a combat hero, commanding the U.S. submarine force for a decade in the 1930s and then commanding battleships in World War II.Patricia adored her father from a young age.For her, his father is the best symbol of courage, dignity and love of life.He retired and moved to South Carolina—near the beach.Patricia visited her father often and began to use her father's example to educate her two sons.

She told her sons about her father's love for submarines, about the interdependence of each crew member on the submarine, so that the passionate young men who enlist in the army can live and die with the submarine like her father.She told the children that her father was proud of it.Sometimes she would tell of General Arison's heroic deeds in the Pacific naval battle of World War II.But mostly, she tells her sons how her father made himself a man.She also told them how, after the war, his father struggled on crutches to visit the families of every soldier who died under his watch, which he felt was his duty.He wants to tell them personally that he truly appreciates what their son has done for him.She also told her sons that her father supported and inspired the families of conscripted soldiers.Almost every day she emphasized that her father valued excellence and persistence above all else, and that life was eternal if you had a noble purpose and worked hard at it.

In third grade, John played the role of "The Brave Prince" in a school play.He's not the main character, the main character is "Prince Charm".He is not attractive to girls, and they all surround Prince Charming.In the play, he ends up being killed.But he loves the role.Sometimes in the dark he thinks: "Actually, I'm like that 'Prince Brave', I'm not as handsome as 'Prince Charming', girls won't like me. But if there's one quality I have, it's courage .Better to be a 'Prince of Bravery' than a 'Prince of Charm' because courage is something I was born with."

When John turned ten, the quarrels between his parents intensified.He often stays by the sea, and he speaks cynically and laughs very deeply, even more than an adult. "Your son looks like a grown-up," Patricia's friend told her.That summer, neighbors agreed to let John try out their diving equipment.The cylinder is buoyant, so John can only float on the water.But his head was buried in the water all the time, and he was surprised to find that he could still breathe in the water.He saw the sun shining through the water to the bottom of the sea, and he really wanted to dive down because he wanted to see deeper.But he promised his neighbor that he would never dive again, so he thought desperately while breathing in the water: "It must be a wonderful feeling if I can go to the bottom of the sea."

In the summer when John was twelve years old, he and his friend Rob.Danny Gris hitchhiked all the way out of Garden City to venture out.In 1963 America, hitchhiking was a safe activity.They arrived at a small village in Suffolk County, 50 miles from home.John and Rob started walking along the country road.They stumble upon an old Victorian house.It looked like an abandoned house: the yard was full of weeds, and the low-hanging branches covered the closed windows. The house looked dark and quiet, as if even the sun couldn't bear to disturb it.The two children approached slowly. They had watched many horror movies and were prepared for possible plots. Both felt that there must be a story hidden in the house.They pushed the door and it opened.

They found a stack of decades-old newspapers upstairs, none of which had been opened.Sitting on a cracked wicker box, they began reading newspaper stories aloud to each other.These stories belong to another era, when what was of concern to everyone is now meaningless.John found several jars of candied fruit in the basement—enough to last for years—and he was fascinated by the ideas they represented.The owners had intended to live here for a long time, and they had hoped to enjoy these luscious preserves later.The two children stayed in the house for several hours, not thinking of destroying the place or messing with its belongings.At dusk, they tidied up the room, and even the newspapers were laid out as they were.

As they hitchhiked home, they came up with scenarios to explain the abandoned house and its previous occupants: candied fruit hinted at a woman who once lived there; left under the circumstances; newspapers placed there indicate that no one has lived in the house since.They reasoned furiously in their minds, and time passed without them noticing. A few days later, they tried to ride back to the house again, but they could not say exactly where they were going.The two children searched everywhere on the country road, but found nothing.They tried several times afterward, but without success. That place has always haunted them.They tried many times, they even drew a map, but they never found the house again: they never knew exactly where the place they had been was.After that, the two hitchhiked out many times, but they never found anything that interested them again. In 1965 John attended Garden City High School.It was also this year that the first marines landed in Da Nang, Vietnam.John was tall, with short blond hair and a square jaw, making him look more like an adult.He has a wide range of friends, especially those who admire his adventurous spirit, who admire his ability to hitchhike 50 miles away for adventure, and admire his ability to modify motorcycles. John still had mediocre grades in high school.By second grade, the ideas he had vaguely formed since elementary school began to crystallize.He wanted to know that Garden City was a place isolated from the outside world, as if surrounded by a protective cover, and the residents inside had no idea what was happening in the outside world.People here care very narrowly - they only care about who gets the best vacation home.Neighbors were all advocating for civil rights, even going out and marching in support of "black kids" getting into white high schools, but in fact, there were no minorities living in Garden City at all. John's love for the beach continued through his senior year.Of course, he never dreamed of being a top fisherman or a champion surfer or the next Jacques.Cousteau.Apart from his maternal grandfather, he has no other heroes in mind.He doesn't even have a nickname.But he is always yearning for the ocean. Every time he sees the Atlantic Ocean, he is amazed by the vastness of the world, and this vast world must exist outside of Garden City. In 1968, when John was in his third year of high school, there were a lot of reports about the serious casualties of the US military in the Vietnam War.Everyone has a different opinion on the matter, and John listens carefully to everyone.But the more John thought about these ideas, the more he doubted whether these people really understood the matter.He does not question the validity of these views: in fact, he admires their enthusiasm and is inspired by the spirit of the times.But he began to ask himself what it was like for people who held these views to live their own lives.He kept asking himself, and at the same time he became more convinced that not many of them had ever been out into the outside world and had ever sought themselves out. By then, John's parents had divorced and his father had moved to California.One evening, John's father called home and asked his son about his future plans.John knew what his father wanted to hear—that he would get into Yale and find a job that matched him.But John went out of his way to say something that surprised his father.He told his father that he wanted to explore the world, not in the sense of being a tourist or a scholar, but to find answers to life.He told his father that he didn't know where he was going, only that he had to go, that he had to find himself. "What the hell are you going to do?" His father was furious.Jack has started his own business.He invented an electrical system for automatic soda dispensers, with which a bartender could pour several glasses of soda from a dispenser at once.His career was booming, he was rich, and John could come and work for him. "It's just your plan, not mine," John said. "If you don't want to, John, you can only be an ordinary worker all your life." John hung up the phone. In early 1969, John's final term at high school, a girl wearing a black armband walked into their classroom.At that time, B52 bombers carried out a large-scale bombing of the Cambodian border.American anti-war campaigners demand the withdrawal of U.S. troops from Vietnam.The girl gave a powerful speech that day, completely convinced of the validity of her anti-war position.John pictured himself as a soldier risking his life in battle and asked if he would agree with the girl's position, the armband she was wearing, the fist she was shaking, but he had no answer.He doesn't have enough information to answer that question, and that's the central problem in John's life.In this room, next to the girl in the armband, the other students echoed "That's right," to which John had no answer.He never went out to find himself. An idea came to John's mind: the army could take him into that wide world; joining the army could help him find himself.He asked himself if he dared to kill, if he would fight for a cause he despised, and again he couldn't give an answer.Then he had an idea: He could volunteer for the Army Medical Corps.No matter how bad things get, as a medical volunteer, he only needs to help others, not to kill.In this way, he can stay in the army with peace of mind and gain first-hand experience to solve the most important problems in the world. He preferred the navy, his grandfather's unit.But the Navy has a special care policy for descendants of heroes, and John doesn't want to be treated like that.But other departments cannot guarantee the professionalism of the work performed. Only the Army agrees that joining the army as a medical volunteer can be equivalent to four years of military service.So John enlisted in the army. In January 1970, the Army assigned Private Chatterton to the neurosurgery ward of the 249th General Hospital in Setouchi, Japan, when he was 18 years old.The purpose of setting up this ward is only one: to treat war fears.Every day, a large number of wounded were sent to the ward from the other side of the mountain. Some had their back skulls knocked out, some had broken spines, some were delirious and crying, and some had only half of their faces left.Chatterton scrubbed and changed the clothes of the wounded before hoisting them into hospital beds to recover from the injuries inflicted by the brutal weapon.Many of the wounded were Chatterton's age.Sometimes, before going into the operating room, some of the wounded would look at Chatterton and say, "I'm paralyzed, man." What does it feel like to suddenly lose a part of your body? If there was ever a soldier who could keep his body intact in 1970, it was Chatterton.He often travels by train and eats and drinks in hot pot restaurants all over Setouchi.He loves his job - it's emotionally involved and vital to other people.He is observing the world while doing no harm to others.But when he saw the line of wounded being sent to the psychiatric ward, he couldn't stop asking himself: What caused these people to cause such serious injuries?How did these things happen to these people?What happened on the other side of the mountain? Chatterton began to study the wounded.When the doctor explained the wheelchair and the breathing tube, he was basically looking into the eyes of the wounded.Their eyes passed through the body of the doctor in front of them, looking straight ahead.To Chatterton, they weren't the stormtroopers in the league.They were dull, scared, lonely, but they seemed to know something Chatterton didn't. Months passed, and carloads of mentally ill patients were sent to No. 249 Hospital.Chatterton was even more eager to know the answer to this question.He voraciously read newspapers, books, and talked to the wounded.But these sources can only tell him something political.They cannot explain why the world is the way it is.His heart was full of thirst for knowledge again, just like the feeling when he stood by the sea when he was a child, he wanted to find the answer by himself. Chatterton began telling friends that he might ask to be transferred to the Army in Vietnam.They responded quickly to his decision, and they were in agreement: "Are you crazy?" He tried to communicate this thought to his family, and they begged him to reconsider, explaining that the paramedics on the neurosurgery ward had with the highest mission.But he told them that he wasn't motivated by patriotism or any other noble purpose - he just wanted to understand the plight of those soldiers.Even the wounded pleaded with Chatterton at last, "Don't go—your decision is a grave mistake," they said.A paralyzed soldier told him, "Stay here, finish your service and go home. I'm crippled, but you're still intact. You must not be like me." But Chatterton applied for transfer anyway. In June 1970, he boarded a plane bound for Chu Lai, South Vietnam. Chatterton was assigned to the 4th Battalion, 31st Regiment, 23rd Infantry Division.When he landed, he was told to report to an ambulance station at a heavy firing point on the Laotian border known as the Western Landing Area.He reached the heavy firing point that morning. Around noon, the phone at the base rang.A man answered the phone, didn't say a word for a long time, and then whispered into the microphone: "Fuck." Soon, everyone on the base began to panic.An officer called Chatterton over, "Bring your gear! A paramedic was killed on the battlefield as soon as he got off the helicopter. You go and take his place." Chatterton couldn't believe what he heard was real.He's going to replace a dead paramedic?In a helicopter?Go to the battlefield?Then the officer who spoke to him began to sob, and his eyes grew wilder, the way Chatterton had seen those broken-down soldiers in Japanese hospitals. The others snatched up weapons and gear and ran from him, while Chatterton stayed put, not knowing what to do.He had no idea where he was going or what he was going to do, and a minute later a little man with wild brown hair grabbed his arm and said, "Listen, I'm a paramedic too. Follow me, We're going to the camp." The ambulanceman looked old, at least 24 years old.He said his name was "Mauss". "Follow me," said Maus. Maus led Chatterton into a bunker at the base.There were at least a few more hours before the helicopter came to take Chatterton to the jungle.When the time came, Mauss said, he would tell Chatterton where the helicopter's sling was. "We can talk while we work if you want," he said. In the bunker, Maus stuffed Chatterton's survival kit with field medical tools—malaria pills, tetracycline tablets, morphine, bandages, scissors, and field clothing—and explained to Chatterton how to Using these tools in the jungle is far more complicated than Chatterton's time in the hospital.In the middle of the explanation, he also interspersed his views on the Vietnam War. "I hate war," said Mauss, "but now that I'm here, I'm going to do what I can for these people, and I'm going to be a good ambulanceman. This war doesn't have much to do with me , being a good ambulanceman is all my job." Maus marked the malaria pills and dysentery pills separately, fastened Chatterton's bag, and told him that, generally speaking, ambulancemen should prepare a small one in addition to the big one, Only in this way can it be used.While patrolling, he told Chatterton that a good ambulanceman would keep trauma medicines separate from medicines for allergies and stomachaches and place them separately—you can't treat a wounded man with a bullet in the head with allergy medicines. "These people are your responsibility," continued Maus. "To me, I am responsible for my wounded. That's the only thing that matters—treating these wounded. They are the most important." Seeing the 0.45mm pistol hanging on the back of Maos, Chatterton asked—is the armament of the field ambulance only so simple? "Many paramedics carry rifles or machine guns," Mauss replied. "The only reason I carry a weapon is because I'm going to use it to protect a fallen wounded. I don't want the enemy to kill me because I don't have a weapon." I'm treating the wounded. But I don't carry offensive weapons, I'm not a warrior, and I wear a pistol on my back. In a way, it's just a symbol. It's a constant reminder of what I'm here for. reason." For the next two hours Chatterton was immersed in the philosophy of Maus.Mauss has ideas about courage, devotion, and faith that dovetail with Chatterton's, but he's never been able to formulate them before.During these two hours, Chatterton even forgot that he was going to the front that day. The helicopter finally arrived.Someone shouted, "Let's go!" Maus loaded Chatterton's bag with another grenade and a raincloth, and took the last minute to check that Chatterton remembered the uses of the various pills.Chatterton grabbed his helmet and clipped a .45 on the back as well. "And one more thing," said Maus, "you're going to have a lot of situations, but you're going to do whatever it takes to survive the front lines, and you're going to have to make a lot of decisions. If there's a situation, you've got to ask yourself A few questions. 'What do I want to be doing in 10, 20 years? How will I feel about the decision I made today when I'm older?' These questions will help you make important decisions." Chatterton nodded and shook Moses' hand.Maus remained at the base, and Chatterton wondered if he would ever see him again.All he said was, "Thank you very much, Maus. Goodbye." Then he climbed into the helicopter, sat on a nutrient crate—there were no seats or seat belts—and the plane lifted off, disappearing over the jungle , Facing the sun and going straight to the real Vietnam battlefield. The helicopter dropped Chatterton and a few boxes of supplies into the jungle and took off.The jungle stretches as far as the eye can see, and no one seems to exist.At last Chatterton heard a rustling behind a grove of trees.He looked up to the sound and saw a dozen people coming out of the jungle.They were all Westerners, with grimy faces, long unkempt hair and ragged beards.To Chatterton, it looked like California biker gangs had popped up in Vietnam.The men came up to him, their olive-green T-shirts and trousers all in tatters.Each wears a helmet, body armor or other military equipment.Watching them gradually approaching, Chatterton felt that everyone had exactly the same expressions, and their expressions were indifferent, as if nothing could arouse their surprise. The soldiers opened the supply box and began to replenish equipment.Nobody Richterton, not even the paramedic dispatched to the command post, said a word to him.Occasionally, one of them would look Chatterton up and down, and if their tired and disgusted eyes were to be interpreted, it must have said: You don't understand shit, you must not stay here long.Even if we need help, you can't provide it at all.When the men were armed, one of them snorted to Chatterton, "Come on." These men were a platoon.They are to be transferred to new combat positions.As they marched, they tracked down and eliminated North Vietnamese soldiers if necessary.They went into the jungle, and Chatterton joined them in file. They crossed rice fields, killed insects the size of small birds that stung them, forded crocodile-infested rivers and dodged tanks loaded with guns.After an hour of marching in the jungle, gunshots rang out and the soldiers began to shoot into the surrounding woods.Chatterton felt like his heart was going to explode.After the shooting stopped, he looked around. The expressions of the others were the same as when he first saw them.After a few minutes, they started again.Chatterton gathered his mind, and then joined the team to move forward together.After he calmed down, his brain couldn't help thinking, "These people are crazy killers, no one talks to me. Where the hell am I? What am I doing?" The weather was sweltering, and the soldiers rested in the open air that night.While the others were asleep, Chatterton was tossing and turning.At dawn, he saw a tiger haunting the jungle.The next day, with temperatures hitting 100 degrees Fahrenheit, soldiers reached the edge of an abandoned village.According to intelligence, there are enemy troops in the vicinity.All but Chatterton were armed and ready for battle.But the best of them all is John.Lecco, a 28-year-old paperworker from New Jersey.Chatterton identified him as the central figure in the platoon.Lecco, 6.2 feet tall and 220 pounds, is a veteran of the Vietnam War in his third appearance in Vietnam.He holds an M60 machine gun with seven hundred rounds crossed across his chest.Lyco's nickname is "Youngest", it is said that he put "Spades Youngest" on the chest of the enemy he eliminated. After the patrol began, the soldiers marched in single file.Soon, they came to a dry paddy field, through which they could reach the opposite hilly land.They came to an open area and began to search the hillside for signs of the enemy.Fifty yards into the clearing, Lycco mounted a rock to survey his surroundings.At this moment bullets were fired from the hillside to the left.There were five rounds in total, one of which passed through Lyco's crotch from left to right.Stunned, Lyco threw the weapon to the ground and fell to the ground, hiding himself in two feet of grass.The rest of the men retreated quickly and hid behind a ten-foot mound of dirt.Someone yelled, "The youngest is shot. Ambulance man! Ambulance man!" Chatterton and another paramedic crawled forward.They could see Lyco's general outline in the grass fifty yards away.He was down in the open, an obvious target.But the enemy did not shoot him again. They were probably waiting for the paramedics to appear, and they planned to kill two at a time. Another of the company's paramedics, Chatterton's superior, huddled behind the earthen wall. "Damn it, I'm not going," he said to Chatterton. The entire row could only stare at him angrily.And they didn't have any hope for Chatterton at all. No novice dared to go to the battlefield the second day after arriving in Vietnam. "I'll go," Chatterton said. Everyone was stunned.But it was Chatterton himself who was most surprised.He began to unload the extra equipment, leaving only the small first aid kit that Maus had prepared for him. "God, this kid is going to pass," someone said. Soldiers find their positions and prepare for cover fire.With each passing second, Chatterton felt that the field of vision became narrower, and the voices in the woods became smaller and smaller.Until the end, all he could hear was his own heavy breathing and the beating of his heart.While at the Japanese hospital, Chatterton had envisioned such a moment.He decided that if he faced such a choice, he would use his grandfather as an example.Now, unarmed and ready to rescue Lyco, he said to himself, "I'm going to find myself." Chatterton charged toward the clearing as a barrage of gunfire came at him from the left side of the far hillside.Halfway through the run, he could see Lyco lying in the grass.He ran faster, the ground in front of him dusted with bullets.Behind him, other soldiers also fired back with fierce artillery fire. Under the pincer fire of both sides, the sky seemed to explode, and Chatterton thought he would be hit.He waited for the moment when he fell, but a vague feeling prevented him from running back, the feeling that he didn't want to remember for the rest of his life that he had given up.A second later, he slid onto the grass next to Lecco. "I was laying on the grass, numb, going into shock," Leko later recalled, "and then I saw this new guy, and here was this new guy! He brought everything he could Stuff. I don't even know him, not even his name. But he's in the line of fire, and this guy is risking his life." Chatterton hid himself in the grass next to Lecco, and the dense bullets set off the ground next to them.Chatterton took the scissors from his first aid kit and ripped Lyco's trousers open to examine the arteries for injury.Luckily no arteries were injured and Lyco was able to move.Now Chatterton had to get him back behind the earthen wall for cover.This short 50 yards now seems as far away as crossing the whole of Vietnam. Chatterton considered carrying Leko on his shoulders, but the wounded fighter weighed 50 pounds more than he did.Chatterton sat on the ground behind Lyco, pulling his arm.More bullets fell on the ground around them.Chatterton began to push his body back with his legs, dragging Lyco back one man at a time.They could be hit by bullets at any time.Two minutes later, they were only halfway from the earthen wall.Now that the rest of the soldiers had pinpointed the location of the enemy fire, they repelled the attacks on Chatterton and Lyco.Soon they were only ten feet from the earth wall, then five feet, and finally behind it.Soldiers rushed in front of them.Moments later, two American Cobra attack helicopters unleashed massive fire on the enemy.A Huey ambulance helicopter followed and airlifted Lyco, who was in shock, to the hospital. After Huey disappeared, Chatterton collapsed to the ground.He was so exhausted he didn't even realize where he was.But he could see something had changed in these people, they were talking to him, they were patting him on the shoulder, they were smiling at him, they were calling him "Doctor." The soldiers continued on through the jungle, and some wondered how long Chatterton's courage would last.The dangers faced by American paramedics in Vietnam while patrolling with their squads cannot be underestimated because their job was to rescue wounded soldiers.Rescuers often find themselves in the hottest spots - around minefields, within range of snipers, or even on booby traps.The dangers that paramedics face are rife with enemy subterfuge: paramedics are the only thing the enemy wants to kill.Killing the ambulancemen of the squad means that the soldiers can only treat themselves after being injured, which will seriously dampen the morale of the squad. Chatterton has been volunteering on every patrol with the squad since Lyco was injured.The team members laughed and patted Chatterton on the back, telling him that the ambulancemen who participated in the patrol would drag back a carload of wounded soldiers every time.But something was churning inside Chatterton, and his stellar performance on the first patrol filled him with a sense of accomplishment.He couldn't let it go, because for the first time in his life this cause made him feel special, for the first time that he might be something special. Chatterton patrolled with his squad every day for the next two weeks, and each day they engaged the enemy.Chatterton often rushed out to rescue wounded soldiers, and he always used the same method.While the other paramedics crawled along the cover, minimizing the chance of exposure, Chatterton rushed out to meet enemy fire and drag the wounded 6.2-foot burly man back to his side.Before long, the "Doctor" was a more important honor than any medals and honors bestowed, and the soldiers said that the "Doctor" was a crazy guy. Chatterton had been fighting with the squad for two weeks when he heard that Maus had died.Maus's squad took the prisoners, and Maus went to guard them.An enemy sniper lurked near them, looking for a sniper target.He may have selected several people at the same time.But because Maus was wearing a .45mm pistol, he was different from the others—to the enemy, he looked like an officer.The sniper locked Maus within range and pulled the trigger, taking several shots at him. If Chatterton still had a glimmer of illusion about Vietnam, then this illusion also disappeared without a trace after Maos was killed.He swapped the .45mm pistol for an M16 rifle.He came to Vietnam looking for answers, looking for answers about America and humans, and suddenly the answers became clear: America was wrong to get involved in Vietnam; humans killed each other because they were beasts.这就是答案，没有什么了不起。然而查特顿仍然自愿参加每次巡逻，主动冲出去救回每个伤员。当他背靠着树，坐在地上气喘吁吁时，他深切感受到一个优秀的人的生命是多么的充实。他开始迷惑，如果没有到越南来，也许他为这些问题找到的是完全不同的答案。 “大家都在谈论这个叫查特顿的小伙子，”营里的外科医生诺曼。萨凯说道，“我从未见过他，但听说的第一件与他有关的事就是他居然上火线。我简直不敢相信，救护员一般是不会参战的。即使参加巡逻，也只是进行医疗救护。上火线？没人听说过救护员上火线的。我想这个孩子可能是疯了，但是大家都说不是，只是因为他与众不同。他总是大家谈论的话题。” 几个月过去了，查特顿的表现仍然引人注目。他在战斗中研究自己和他人，观察那些活下来和死去的士兵，研究他们勇敢和气馁的时候，仔细留意周围人的行为。所有这些都是为了探索生存下去的正确方式。渐渐地，他从中提取出了几条原则，这些原则对他来说是不容辩驳的真理。他将这些原则像救护包中的各种药片一样在脑海中分类装好。在他六个月的战地服役临近尾声时，他总结出了以下几条原则： ——如果一项任务过于容易，那么此前肯定已经有人把它完成了。 ——如果跟着别人的脚步亦步亦趋，那么就会错失挑战更有价值的问题的机会。 ——成为优秀的人才，必须要具备以下条件：良好的准备、无私的奉献、集中的注意力、坚定的毅力；缺少任何一项条件，你注定只能碌碌无为。 ——生活经常会给你做出重大抉择的机会，这是人生的十字路口，你必须决定是就此停下还是继续前进；人的一生充满了做出抉择的机会。 ——仔细研究所有的事情；并不是所有的事情都真的像它看上去的那样，或是像别人告诉你的那样。 ——如果你的判断是基于明确的是非观，那么你会很容易做出决定。 ——那些在战场上被杀死的人都是些神经紧张的人。那些什么都不在乎的人，他会说，“我早就死了——我的生死其实无关紧要，唯一重要的是我要完成自己担负的使命。”这样他们就拥有了世界上最可怕的力量。 ——最糟糕的决定就是放弃。 四个月中，查特顿一直在考虑生存的正确方式与错误方式，同时他一直在构思他的原则。每次巡逻都会有人流血，有人死亡，但这也使查特顿的想法更加完善了。他开始认为也许他到越南来就是为了能够形成这些原则。小的时候，当他试图看穿深不可测的大西洋时，他确信大洋的彼岸肯定有他要找的东西。现在他知道了，正是这些想法在呼唤着他，这些想法告诉他人应当怎样活着。 1971年6月，在服完12个月的兵役后，查特顿开始回家休假，两个星期后，他将返回越南继续在战地服役6个月。见到他时，他母亲惊呆了。他的儿子既不坐在椅子上，也不睡在床上，而是一直待在地板上。他双腿交叉坐在地上，吃光了一桌的饭菜。她问他话时，他起先什么都不说，然后开始抽泣，讲述那些被打掉后颅骨、哭天抢地，甚至饿死的士兵，讲述他第一次杀人的感觉，讲述那些人类能够见到的最可怕的情形。但讲完这些后，他又能很快平静下来。 他妈妈抓起电话，给一个在军界颇有权力的朋友打了电话。查特顿再也没有回到越南。他被重新分配到布鲁克林汉密尔顿堡的医务室，他在那里时精神状态非常糟糕。军队给他指派了一名精神病医师，在医生面前，他们要求他做什么他就做什么，直到他们认为他已经恢复了健康。他和在高中认识的一个女孩结了婚，但很快意识到这是一个错误的婚姻，几个月后他们离婚了。这就是他在这两年中每天做的事——每天按时打卡上下班、感到愤怒和困扰、对未来感到迷惑——直至他结束了在军队的四年服役生涯。 然后查特顿决定把一切全部抛开。 从1973年到1978年间查特顿不停地更换工作。他曾住在佛罗里达。在那里，他尝试到医院工作，并打算上大学。但他父亲于1976年死于心脏病，时年48岁。之后，他搬到了新泽西，在旅游城市凯波梅开了个小公司，从事建筑业。但这些工作都不能重新唤起他在越南时曾有过的那种充实的感觉，自从他回到美国后，这种感觉就彻底从他的生活中消失了。 1978年春天，查特顿在凯波梅码头上碰到一个熟人，他决定到那人的捕贝船上工作。一天后，他随捕贝船出海。船上的人向他介绍了工作流程。捕贝船上有两台十英尺宽的挖掘机，机器会顺着海底进行挖掘。每半个小时，挖掘机升起一次，将挖上来的东西倾倒到甲板上。然后船员将埋藏在各种淤泥和海底生物中的扇贝挖出来，将剩下的垃圾丢出船外。最后，他们将扇贝搬到切割室中，将贝壳去掉。当查特顿问起他要做什么工作时，这些人告诉他：“做所有的工作。” 从一开始，查特顿就很喜欢捕贝的工作。他学会了切割和焊接钢管，打水手结，接电缆——总之，学会了所有工作中需要用到的东西，这些东西引起了他内心的共鸣。他吃的东西比国王还丰盛，那个满脸胡子拉茬的厨师做的扇贝和龙虾要比五星级法国餐厅的主厨好不知多少倍。但最让他动心的还是因为这份工作可以使他在甲板上观察到海底世界。挖掘机对大西洋底的任何物品都一视同仁，不管是什么东西，它都一股脑地挖出来。在一堆堆的扇贝中，你可以找到俄罗斯的渔网、鲸鱼的头骨、炸弹、榴炮弹、乳齿象的象牙、步枪，还有沉船的物品。很多沉船物品。其他船员将沉船物品当作垃圾。对他们来说，扇贝等于金钱，其他的东西都一文不值，都被直接扔到了船外。但对查特顿来说，这些扇贝以外的东西才是最重要的。 出海九天，船主付给查特顿3000美元和一包十磅重的扇贝。在1978年，这简直是一笔巨款。更重要的是，查特顿在船上已经有了一席之地。那年，他又随船出海了几次，有时可能有所收获，但也有捕不到扇贝的时候。但每次都会从海里捞上来很多沉船物品，这让他的脑海中充满幻想。他开始往家里搬这些从海里捞上来的东西，直到把屋子装扮得像电影中的海盗船一样——电视机上放着捕龙虾器、墙上挂着鲸鱼头骨、屋顶放着鲸鱼骨架、而天花板上则挂着一张俄罗斯渔网。朋友进到他的屋里后，觉得像是掉进了陷阱。 这样的生活查特顿过了两年。在这两年中，他赚了不少钱，而且作为一个捕扇贝工已经对大海有了很深的了解。他经常说要到深海去潜水，但紧张而无规律的工作一直妨碍了他的计划的实施。查特顿决定，等工作轻松后，他就背上气瓶，去看看真实的海底世界。 1980年，查特顿又一次出海大获丰收后，他遇到了凯西。卡斯特，凯西和人合伙在凯波梅的码头开了一家小餐厅。查特顿还没喝完第一杯酒，就知道他对凯西心存好感。查特顿知道很多女人都喜欢平静安逸的生活，但凯西一直过着充满创造性、无拘无束的生活。她在附近的大西洋城长大，但高中毕业后就跑到加利福尼亚尝试不同的生活。她穿着农妇的裙子、羊皮外套，留着史蒂薇。妮克丝一样的金色头发，一天到晚表情冷静。当大家讨论伍德斯托克音乐节时，她对他们说，虽然她住在那里，却从来没有去参加过那个音乐节。 也许最吸引查特顿的就是她的实用主义。凯西不像他所知道的那些女人一样热衷于那些女性化的活动。她不喜欢去美容院，觉得逛商场很无聊，她更喜欢进行剧烈的户外运动。她尊重查特顿，因为他靠自己的双手在海上谋生计。 凯西并没有被查特顿吓跑。他29岁，但是还没有打算上大学。他一出海就是几个星期，而且都是在有狂风巨浪的时候出海。但卡斯特崇拜他身上具备的这种特质，当查特顿告诉她他不能确定今后会在哪里生活时，她也告诉他，她对他有信心。 凯西和查特顿住到了一起。他给她买了一把手枪，以便在他出海的时候能够保护自己。他发现凯西可以灵活地使用手枪。她之前从未使用过武器，但她每次开枪都能打中靶心，这才是他喜欢的女孩。他们都不急着结婚或生孩子，他们在一起觉得很轻松，而且无拘无束。“如果一个女人可以容忍这些鲸鱼骨头，”查特顿想到，“那么我想她也一定能够容忍我。” 1981年，两人住在一起还不到一年，扇贝市场就出现了危机。查特顿的收入直线下降，凯西的餐馆也关闭了，他们手头开始拮据起来。查特顿签约出海17天，筋疲力尽，但船主最后只给了他85美元。他知道是退出捕贝行业的时候了。 回家后，他和凯西讨论了以后的生活。军队给他的津贴马上就要中止了，如果他想上学的话，他必须现在就开始计划。查特顿对计算机很感兴趣，打算将来在这个行业选择工作，他报名参加了一个程序设计课程。 在上完第一节课的当天晚上，查特顿突然从梦中醒来，然后坐了起来。他摇醒凯西，一开始她还以为他在做恶梦或是又想到了越南的经历。她抓着他的胳膊，没敢开灯。 “凯西，凯西，凯西——” “约翰，怎么了？” “我当不了程序设计员。” "what are you saying?" “我不能一辈子都坐在屏幕前。” “好吧，好吧。你应该做自己觉得快乐的事情，约翰。” “现在我知道我要做什么了。我要当一个商业潜水员。” “那是什么工作？” “我也不是很清楚。我现在还不知道，就是觉得很适合我……一个商业潜水员。” 说完后，他满足地睡了。 查特顿并不知道商业潜水员应该做些什么，而且不知道在哪里工作。但是一听到这个职业的名称，他就感觉眼前的迷雾散开了，阳光照亮了他的生活。第二天，他跑出去买了一本《潜水人》杂志。杂志里面有商业潜水员学校的广告，他觉得这个想法太完美了。他从事过很多工作：木工、铁架工、呼吸系统医疗，现在是潜水。他天生是属于大海的，坎登的一所学校设有潜水课程。两个月后，他开着他的紫色格雷姆林到那所学校去追寻他的新梦想。 查特顿在教室里听了几分钟后，就确定商业潜水员正是他想要的工作。老师讲到，商业潜水员每次的工作都与上次不同，需要随机应变，在现场解决问题，工作环境复杂而又变化莫测。查特顿激动得几乎坐不住了，就是这种环境才能让他像在越南战场上一样优秀。 他喜欢这个行业中使用的有力的工具——精铜制成的25磅重的头盔、把潜水员与空气发生器连接起来的空气管、厚厚的橡胶手套，以及防寒干衣——感觉就像穿上了第二层皮肤。四个月的课程结束后，查特顿觉得奇怪，为什么他以前就一直不知道潜水可以作为一项谋生的工作来做呢。 毕业后，查特顿与一家在纽约港工作的商业潜水机构签订了合约。在工作的第一个月中，他大概潜了50次水，每次潜水对他来说都是不同的挑战。在同一个星期里，他可能会去拆除水下的混凝土建筑，或在纽约港务局的航空港周围打桩，或将南街下面的生锈的支柱焊接起来。每次他都对老板说：“我可以做到。” 查特顿在曼哈顿的水底遇到了很多问题。他经常在能见度为零的环境中工作——在隧道或涵洞里，或者在堆满淤泥和沉积物的水下建筑里，这些地方能见度非常低，即使将手套放在面镜上，也看不清楚。他要将身体挤进人类根本无法适应的狭小空间中，然后在里面做非常细致的工作。厚厚的橡胶手套让他的触觉变得迟钝。冬天，他的干衣泡在纽约港冰冷海水中好像贴在身上的保鲜膜。有时，前一晚的海潮会将他一天的工作成果全部毁掉。 回家以后，查特顿告诉凯西，“这个工作就是为我而产生的。”在水中，他感觉自己就是整个工作的中心，即使挤在钢管之间他也觉得很放松，即使看不清任何东西，他也不会感到不安。他积极地尝试，每项任务对他来说都像老朋友一样熟悉。 查特顿喜欢挑战自我。当能见度为零时，他将身体靠在周围建筑的裂缝上，同时运用肘、膝、颈，甚至脚蹼的感觉，直至整个工作环境的画面展现在他的想象之中。他调动起了身体的各个部分，例如，将左小腿靠在墙上保持平衡，右膝盖放在一个扳手上，将一只脚伸出洞外，作为测量水流变化的压力计。他在水底工作的时间越长，他的感觉就变得越加灵敏，他甚至能够仅仅通过潜水刀上传来的不同震动感觉来区分普通钢材和煅烧过的钢材。他经常只需脚踝轻触就能判断出一个物体的材质和所处的状态。 由于经常视线不清，查特顿具备了超常的想象能力。他经常对在潜水中可能遇到的情况进行设想：如果他的手没有抓紧，从缆绳上滑落下来怎么办；如果隧道的支柱倒塌，他要如何调整身体的方向；如果涵洞前端坍塌，他该如何从涵洞的裂缝中滑出。从事这份工作的第二年，他开始相信，他的大脑和身体可以像眼睛一样清晰地辨明物体，这使他即使在危险的环境中也可以保持常人无法拥有的平静心情。当水底发生状况时，四周一片黑暗时，周围充满嘈杂声时，他都不会感到恐慌，因为他相信自己是可以弄清周围的状况的。不久，他就开始向商业潜水行业中最艰难、最危险的环境挑战。运用他的身体，运用他的装备，运用他的工具去感觉，这使他充满信心，因为只要他的脑海中可以勾画出周围的情景，他就是安全的。岸上的工作人员开始称查特顿为“天才”。 能见度好的时候，他会观察周围所有的情况。他研究物体落入水中的方式、被水流冲击过的沉积物发生的变化、金属分解后的状态、水流在人造物体周围运动的方式，以及木片被埋在沙堆中后最终的方向，所有这些都使他产生兴趣。他相信，他看到的这些东西迟早有一天会对他的潜水有所帮助。 他不知疲倦地计划着。每次工作时，他都演习一遍他的潜水动作，就像芭蕾舞演员排练舞蹈一样。他先想清楚程序，然后排列使用工具的顺序，直到他认为整个计划足以应付所有的突发状况后才会入水。他清楚地记得，在越南战场上，那些等到战斗开始后才考虑如何行动的士兵是什么下场。他的做法可以尽量减少他在水底做决定的机会，这样任何突发状况都不会影响到他的判断力。 大多数情况下，查特顿都不会轻易放弃。他认为商业潜水员还应当是一个优秀的焊接工、一个专业的爆破工、一个出色的装配工。如果你没有全心全意地完成工作，你是不会成为优秀的潜水员的。在商业潜水员的生活中，每天都会遇到各种突发状况。查特顿认为正是为了应对这些突发状况，生存才有了意义。他常常想，他活了这么长时间，就是为了等待这些时刻的到来。一天，他头盔上的电焊镜坏了，但更换电焊镜会耽误工作的进程。于是，他决定不用电焊镜进行焊接，他闭上双眼完成了工作。当查特顿拿着破碎的电焊镜上岸后，他对目瞪口呆的工作人员说道：“搞定了，伙计们。”当晚，查特顿心满意足地开车回家，他终于又找到了一份可以让他与众不同的工作了。 1985年，查特顿加入码头营造商联盟，搬到了新泽西的哈肯萨克市。作为商业潜水员，他收入颇丰。他的大部分业余时间都用于近海潜水，尤其是他经常到附近的一个天主教静修处潜水。在那一片离岸几百英尺的浅海海域有两艘沉船，一艘铁制船，一艘木制船。查特顿经常对它们进行勘查，并乐此不疲。 这两艘沉船引起了查特顿到其他沉船探险的兴趣。他走访了潜水用品商店，咨询附近沉船的相关信息。一个店员向他指了指一大堆关于近期潜水包租船的绿色宣传单，查特顿一边翻阅，一边惊奇于看到的这些著名的沉船名称：“圣地亚哥”号、“莫哈克”号和“德克萨斯指挥塔”号。当他看到一份八月份的出海计划后，他停止了翻阅——是“安德亚。多利安”号，历史上著名的沉船。电视上曾经播放过有关这艘船的纪录片。他问店员，去“多利安”号的船上是否还有空位。 “'多利安'号是沉船里的珠穆朗玛峰，伙计，”店员对他说。“只有那些最棒的潜水员才敢去。很多人死在了'多利安'号上。你还是先从容易一点的沉船开始吧。” 查特顿多次租船到近海沉船中去探险，每次他都被从沉船上发现的故事所深深吸引。看到他对沉船潜水表现出的狂热，凯西也报名参加了一个潜水学习班，他们一起勘查了附近的多艘沉船。凯西认为她能到这些沉船探险已经非常满足了，但是查特顿却远远不够。他决定取得深海潜水资格证书，他认为这是为到“多利安”号探险做准备的最明智的选择。 1985年夏末，一个潜水用品商店的店主得知查特顿对沉船探险的热情后，建议他与其他有经验的潜水员一起租“探索者”号出海。“探索者”号的主人是比尔。莱格，他是潜水运动领域的一个传奇人物。店主对他说，“莱格可能是个粗鲁的讨厌鬼，但是你们俩对潜水的热情可能不相伯仲。” 查特顿开始了解“探索者”号，莱格和他的顾客都背着两个气瓶，带着长柄重锤、撬棍、备用照明灯和三把刀。他们研究沉船的甲板图，然后尽可能驶向偏远海域。有时他们甚至根据不完整的经纬度数字，试图寻找无人发现过的沉船。这种精神深深吸引着查特顿，这就像是美国早期开拓者的精神，是被查特顿所深深推崇的精神。 查特顿第一次随“探索者”号出海时，莱格根本看不起他，但是查特顿对这个船长充满敬意。莱格是个讨厌的家伙——这一点查特顿在船还没离开码头的时候就体会到了——但是他喜欢寻找富有挑战性的目标。查特顿在莱格周围徘徊时，经常听到莱格的咆哮声。“他是什么东西，”莱格怒吼道，“他说这不可能做到？是他不敢去吧？”每次“探索者”号出海，查特顿几乎都要随行。 1986年，有几次周末随“探索者”号出海时，查特顿注意到他在工作中培养的技巧可以自如地运用到沉船探险中去。他渴望能够潜到危险的环境中，因为他知道自己肯定有办法返回水面。在能见度很低的情况下，他也能够保持冷静，因为他知道他可以凭借身体来弄清周围的情况。他对突发状况应付自如——随“探索者”号出海经常会遇到突发状况。1986年，查特顿主动提出要潜入“德克萨斯指挥塔”号底部将遇难潜水员的尸体打捞上来。在他之前从没有哪个第一次到这里潜水的人敢这样做。而查特顿却连着做了两次。 1987年，查特顿向凯西求婚了。从他买给她一把手枪作为防身之用后，凯西将她对武器的兴趣转化成为竞技射击职业。她到全国各地参加各种比赛，甚至保持了好几项赛事的全国记录。但这样的生活对他们两个来说就是一种折磨，使他们想起了查特顿在海上捕贝的那些日子。他们好像在各过各的生活，凯西参加比赛的时候，他们都深切地思念着对方。 由于查特顿用严格的标准来要求自己，他对别人的期望值也就很高。如果他的朋友、家人甚至凯西行事上有所欠缺，甚至与他的价值观相悖，那他往往会很长时间不和他们说话。一次，一个朋友答应上午九点钟过来帮助查特顿清理树叶，但是他到了中午的时候才出现。查特顿从他身边走开，一个月没有和他说一句话。“他靠不住，”他对凯西说，“我不能像他那样生活。信誉是最重要的。” 两人的婚礼选在一次前往基韦斯特的探险旅程中。几个月以后，查特顿获得了深海潜水的资格。现在，他可以挑战“安德亚。多利安”号了。莱格要到“多利安”号进行为期五天的探险，查特顿报了名。这次潜水具有历史性的意义，他们在船上发现了很多有收藏价值的物品。查特顿心中充满了对“多利安”号的热爱，他做梦都会梦到这艘沉船。“多利安”号上有很多地方从没有被任何潜水员勘探过。这些是无法到达的地方，但到底什么是“无法到达的地方”呢？ 1988年初，查特顿准备再次勘查“多利安”号。他不断问自己他为什么如此沉迷于这艘沉船。随着启程的日期日渐来临，他觉得自己找到了答案。一艘沉船就是一个巨大的秘密宝库。有些秘密可以通过探险被揭开，这些答案可以在被打捞上来的沉船物品上得到体现。但深藏在沉船内部的其他秘密却是很难触及的。这些难以发掘的正是关于潜水员自己的秘密。如果有心发掘，每艘沉船都会为潜水员提供无尽的机会来认识自己。他可以潜得更深，寻找那些从未被别人征服过的地方。对查特顿来说，即便是最小的沉船也会为他提供这样的机会。他可以有机会去解决那些值得解决的问题，这对他来说是意义非凡的，只有这样他才会觉得自己的生命是有价值的。他对同事说，深海沉船潜水可以使人发现自我、了解自我。 在接下来的三年中，查特顿一直坚持不懈地勘查“多利安”号。他进入了三等舱、二等舱和头等舱的厨房——很多年来，这些地方都被认为是无法进入的。这是一项以收藏品多少来衡量的运动，但查特顿常常放弃“多利安”号上的物品，他对其他的潜水员说：“一个人能用几只茶杯啊？”他被公认为东部海岸最优秀的潜水员之一，有人说他甚至能够跻身世界上最优秀的潜水员之列。一天莱格给出了他的最高评价，“如果有一天你死了，恐怕没有人能够找到你的尸体。” 莱格酗酒越来越厉害，他的怨恨情绪也与日俱增。他的大部分生意都由查特顿替他打理，只有这样“探索者”号的生意才能维持下去。查特顿的脸上经常挂着笑容，时不时冒出几句俏皮话，还经常发出爽朗的笑声。但是，如果有人违背了他的原则，他也会反应强烈。他不能容忍任何人的懒惰和放荡，他这样要求自己，也这样要求别人。 1990年，他听说一家潜水用品商店店主将沉在罗德岛附近的潜艇U853上的一具遗骸打捞了出来。查特顿立刻给他打电话。那时，几乎所有东部海岸的潜水员都已听说过查特顿的名字。 “我听说你把U853上的尸骨捞出来了，”查特顿说道。 “啊，是啊，我想一定是有传言了吧，”那人回答道。 “你把它放到你屋子里了？” “是啊，放到我屋子里了。” “你他妈想干什么？”查特顿怒吼道。 那人发出尴尬的笑声。 “我可没觉得有什么好笑，”查特顿说。 “我说，伙计，他们是敌人。是他妈德国人。我们把他们打败了。” 查特顿冲着听筒大喊道：“我告诉你为什么。你觉得你做的很了不起是吧。那我就打电话给报纸，让他们报道你，采访你。然后你就能告诉他们你这个盗墓者到底有多了不起。然后，整个美国都会感谢你这个盗窃别人尸骨的英雄，这可真是个千载难逢的机会啊。我现在就打电话给记者。” 电话那边鸦雀无声。 “你想让我怎么做？”那人最后说道。 “你知道吗？你闯祸了，你闯了大祸，”查特顿说道，“你做出了这样的事，我不能坐视不管。那些是潜艇上的战士，你侵犯的是战争的坟墓，你要把那些尸骨放回去。你不能就把他们扔在潜艇外面，你要把他们放回他们原来的地方。然后，你给我打电话，告诉我你已经放回去了。只有这样我才不会再找你麻烦。” 一周以后，有传言说，尸骨已经被放回了潜艇。 到1991年时，莱格由于酗酒已经不能再潜水了。医生说，酗酒会让他送命的。但是，每晚当“探索者”号上的潜水员们睡着后，查特顿和莱格都会谈论起沉船探险，谈论潜水到底是要找寻些什么，谈论如果能够找到从前无人发现的重要沉船，那感觉将会多么美妙。