If I Die in a Combat Zone: Box Me Up and Ship Me Home

O'Brien arrives at his job in the rear, at LZ Gator. He now works for battalion headquarters, doing bureaucratic tasks: processing new soldiers in when they arrive, and filling out paperwork about the soldiers who die. The work is dull, but O'Brien finds monotony a step up from the terror of the battlefield.

Thanksgiving and Christmas pass at LZ Gator. There are special meals for the holidays, and frequently there are floor shows. The floor shows always conclude with a stripper, who is either a Korean, Japanese, or Australian woman. O'Brien observes black soldiers show up early for the floor shows and take the front seats. Some white soldiers push back, but the black soldiers persevere. O'Brien and his co-worker, Bates, eventually swear off attending the floor shows. They find the strip tease frustrating; the men howl for the dancer to undress completely, but she never does.

There is nighttime guard duty at LZ Gator, but O'Brien is exempt because he works for battalion headquarters. At night, he has time to read, write letters, and write a book. He goes on R&R (the Army acronym for "rest and relaxation") to Sydney, Australia. There, a woman working in an official capacity brokers a date for him. O'Brien finds the woman nice, the entertainment better (jazz singer Buddy Greco), and the "warm feelings [and] cordialities" of the nightclub best of all (185). But returning to the war is a letdown, similar to the frustration of the floor shows.

Erik writes to O'Brien to say he is nearing the end of his tour. He wishes he and O'Brien would take the same airplane back to the United States. He recounts a sight that sickens him. He saw a junior officer kick a Vietnamese woman. Erik did nothing, so he calls himself "the peeping tom of this army" (186). He also compares himself to a Roman centurion who looks on passively at the Crucifixion. He extends the comparison: "Is it only that Christ is become a yellow-skinned harlot, a Sunday-morning short-time girl?" (186). O'Brien settles down to wait out his tour of duty, "with letters and Scotch whiskey and with a comfortable but confining blanket of rear-area security" (186).

O'Brien describes a conversation between a captain and a "Chieu Hoi" (187). The South Vietnamese government ran what it called the Chiêu Hồi Program, which can be translated as Operation Open Arms. The idea was to use propaganda to convince Viet Cong guerilla fighters to defect and work for the government of South Vietnam. These former Viet Cong are then called, informally, the Chieu Hoi.

This Chieu Hoi asks for a three-day pass because his child is sick. His request is treated with scorn and derision. He is suspected of lying, or, if he is not lying, then his request is unacceptable because his work is critical to the mission: "You've got knowledge we GIs haven't—all about mines and booby traps" (187-88).

The argument grows heated. The American captain accuses the Chieu Hoi of slacking: "This here's your goddamn war […][y]ou've got to sacrifice too" (188). The Chieu Hoi has another perspective: "You are here for one year. I've been in war for many billions of years" (188). He adds that the soldiers in Charlie Company don't like him, because "I'm Chieu Hoi, old VC" (188). The argument is a draw. Soon afterward, the Chieu Hoi goes AWOL.