It was Vietnam after all, and Mary Anne Bell was an attractive girl. Too wide in the shoulders, maybe, but she had terrific legs, a bubbly personality, and a happy smile. (O'Brien 95)
Guy's, this is Mary Anne. (O'Brien 94)
And so in the morning Rat Kiley and two other medics tagged along as security while Mark and Mary Anne strolled through the ville like a pair of tourists. If the girl was nervous, she didn't show it. She seemed comfortable and entirely at home; the hostile atmosphere did not seem to register (O'Brien 96).
Marry Anne wasn't afraid to get her hands bloody. At times, in fact, she seemed fascinated by it (O'Brien 98).
He couldn't pin it down. Her body seemed foreign somehow - too stiff places, too firm where the softness used to be. The bubbliness was gone. The nervous giggling, too. When she laughed now, which was rare, it was only when something struck her as truly funny (O'Brien 99).
Over dinner she kept her eyes down, poking at her food, subdued to the point of silence (O'Brien 103)
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You just don't know, she said. You hide in this little fortress, behind wire and sandbags, and you don't even know what it's all about. Sometimes I just want to eatthis place. Vietnam. I want to swallow the whole country - the dirt, the death- I just want to it and have it there inside me (O'Brien 111)
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