Page 36 of Cry Havoc

“You SEALs have anybody like Maggie?” Graves asked.

“No, but maybe we should. No one writes books about us, though.”

“Here we go. That Robin Moore book again,” Jarrett said.

“Catchy title,” Tom joked. “The Green Berets. Heard there’s a John Wayne movie coming out based on it in a few months.”

“If you want visits from Miss December, you need someone to write a book about what you are doing over here. Something likeThe Navy SEALs,” Graves offered.

“You kidding? No SEAL would ever write a book,” Tom replied.

“Have to learn how to write first,” Graves noted.

“That’s a good point.”

Before long Tom and Quinn were at the poker table with the Delta operators. As they played the early hands, Tom found out that Lee had been given the call sign Gambler.

As the night wore on the numbers dwindled. Jarrett, Stedman, Moose, Edens, Norris, Doc, and Graves folded and moved to the bar to continue debriefing the latest lessons learned in the A Shau, leaving Tom, Quinn, and Lee at the table.

Tom extinguished his cigarette and looked down at his cards, disguising his concern. In theory, it wasn’t a bad hand. More than that, it was a respectable hand that in an average game of poker should have decent odds of winning the pot. The trouble was that this game played as loosely with the rules of poker as special operators in ’Nam did with just about everything else. Quinn had warned Tom about Delta Rules ahead of time,cautioning him that rules could change at the whim of the dealer and by the hand, but experiencing it was another thing entirely. It probably didn’t help that each hand was accompanied by another generous glass of Old Grand-Dad bourbon.

“You know, Lee, I wish I had been aware of your nickname before we started playing,” Tom said.

“Wish in one hand, shit in the other. See which fills up first,” the Gambler replied.

“Good tip.”

“Tiger, another round, please,” Lee said to the pretty barmaid behind the counter.

The game was five-card draw, and the dealer, Sergeant David Lee, was making the rules. Tom gauged him to be in his early twenties, though it was hard to tell with the dark thick stubble from a few days in the field. He announced that treys—or a pair of threes—were wild but only when paired with at least one face card and not matched with any aces. This extra rule superseded the standard rules of five-card draw, making hands with such pairs more favorable. And, as Lee was a southern gentleman by birth, additional hands such as a blaze—any combination of five face cards, which can beat two pair but loses to three of a kind—were also in play.

“One card,” said Tom, running through the new rules in his mind.

His father had told him that you do not go into a game feeling the cards or believing in the will of the cards but rather believing in yourself and your skills as a player. The elder Reece was a voracious card player who said luck was made. On this night, that theory had been punched through with more holes than a Kingbee helicopter on exfil. The deck was not in the young SEAL’s favor.

Of the last three hands, Tom had folded once and lost to another hand he had never heard of: wild deuces—pairs of twos—that were only of additional value when in suits of the same color.

Lee had almost sardonically explained this rule to the SEAL visitoragain after Tom was sure he had won with a full house, only to be beaten by a pair of eights with two wild cards making four of a kind under Delta Rules. Not for the first time that night, Tom wondered if the rules changed to keep things interesting, or to scalp visitors of their savings.

Stay focused, Tom. Don’t dwell on the last hands. Every hand is a new opportunity. Skill over luck.

Lee plucked Tom’s one new card from the top of the well-worn deck, passing it face down across the table into the SEAL’s grasp. Glancing at it briefly and seeing the one heart he needed to complete his flush, Tom smiled to himself.Still in the fight.It was expected that these games were to the death, with only one man left standing.

“It’s your bet,” said Lee, looking eagerly at Quinn.

Quinn studied his hand.

“I fold,” he said, discarding his cards face down and giving up any claim on the growing pot.

“Losing your edge up there in Phu Bai,” Lee said.

Quinn leaned toward Tom. “How’s your wallet looking?”

“It’s pretty light.”

“I thought you said you were good at this.”

“The creativity around these Delta Rules took a minute, but I think I’m getting the hang of it,” Tom said.