THERE BE DRAGONS (9 page)

The next one held another soldier with bullet wounds. Dead.

The next one, a guy missing both his arms and half of his face. Dead.

All the hammocks contained dead bodies.

Something struck Stephens peculiar about one of them, though. He tilted his head to one side and raised his helmet higher up his forehead with the barrel of his CAR-15. “What we got here? Looks like something took a chunk outta you, fella. Took … took a bite outta you.”

Stephens heard a noise from behind him.

He heard the scrape of boots along mud.

He turned.

Someone exited the tunnel behind.

Stephens shot … but missed.

“Hey!”

Stephens ignored the shout and aimed for another shot.

“It’s me, Diaz!” His voice trembled.

Stephens lowered his rifle. “What the hell are you doing in here? You fixing to get shot? You can’t be making an unexpected entrance like that, Diaz!” Before the private could answer, the sergeant began to curse himself. “And how did I miss you? What if you’d been another enemy soldier? I could be dead now. Son of a bitch!”

“Sorry.” Diaz’s voice shook. He breathing was fast and hard.

“My heart is racing … it feels good,” said Stephens.

Diaz picked himself up from the mud. “Jacobs sent me in after we heard some shots. You okay?”

“Of course I am. Didn’t Cage tell him I’d signaled back that I was fine?”

“I don’t know.”

“I’m gonna go back up top to find out. There seems to be an exit from this room, back out to the jungle, towards the rear over there.” Stephens pointed to it. “Check it out. I think we’re alone anyway, or we’d be in a world of hurt right now,” he said. “We’d have been swarmed by gookie-monsters. Also, see if you can get anything from the enemy intel on the table. You speak rat, don’t you? Then join us up top. Got it?”

“Yeah,” answered Diaz.

Stephens took a knife from his boot and cut the rope from around his waist. He went down the hole to the tunnel and started to head back up top.

• • • • •

When Stephens exited the tunnel, he walked into a whirlwind of commotion.

Cook was standing with his back facing Stephens.

Jackson was hurling his chow onto the rough terrain.

Maxwell was stood in front of Cook taking pictures.

Jacobs was speaking frantically into the radio handset Buttons had handed him.

The Doc was injecting Cook with morphine.

“Repeat: Private Cook has been hit by a Malay Gate!” Jacobs shouted down the radio. “He tripped the booby trap and has been skewered by the spikes. The Doc is administering morphine. It doesn’t look good. Get some engineers up here now, this place is crawling with booby traps. Repeat … get some Sappers here now! We are located at …”

Stephens passed by Jacobs and Buttons. Jacobs’s words fell into the background.

Spikes had skewered Cook. They were fixed to a six-foot bamboo post. He was dead. Pinned up into a standing position.

“What are you doing?” Stephens screamed at Maxwell.

“I was—”

Stephens grabbed the camera from Maxwell’s hands. The cord around Maxwell’s neck snapped. Stephens opened the back of the camera and removed the film. It unrolled and fluttered to the jungle floor.

“Hey, you can’t do that!” shouted the reporter.

“I just did!” Stephens pointed at Maxwell. “You need to stay away from me! You understand? You’re now on my shit-list. And that ain’t a good place to be.”

Maxwell swallowed. “Sure.”

Stephens turned back to Cook’s body. The Doc was now leaning on the dead man’s shoulder, exhausted from his work. “Get him down, Doc.” Stephens patted the Doc on the shoulder. “Jacobs, I need a word.”

Jacobs and Stephens walked away from the men just as Diaz exited the tunnel. “What happened?” he asked.

They both ignored him and moved out of earshot.

“There was nothing I could have done for that man, Sergeant. I warned them to not touch anything,” Jacobs said.

“You’re right,” said Stephens.

“Command has given me new coordinates. We’re on ambush tonight. In the morning we move out to search a village.”

“Okay, but at the moment I couldn’t care less about ambush,” Stephens said.

“You wanted to speak to me?” asked Jacobs. “Make it quick. The chopper will be here to pick Cook up soon, I need the men to pop smoke.”

“What was you doing sending Diaz in that hole?” Stephens said through gritted teeth.

“We heard a shot,” said Jacobs.

“I tugged on the rope. Cage knew I was safe.” Stephens pressed forward.

“I wanted to make sure, I didn’t want to lose my sergeant.” Jacobs took a step back.

Stephens took a step forward. “You almost got Diaz killed, we coulda lost two good men today instead of just one!” The sergeant placed a finger on Jacobs’s forehead. “Think, will you?”

Stephens turned from Jacobs and shouted orders. “Jackson, get ahold of yourself! I know you two were boyfriends, but we need to pop smoke for the chopper. Get on it!”

Jacobs breathed a sigh of relief. Stephens heard.

“LT,” said Diaz. “I need a word.”

“Make it quick, Private.”

“I had a good look around in the tunnel, it’s free of enemy. Well, free of living enemy. It was a place to bring the wounded. The room was full of hammocks containing dead NVA. Nothing unusual about that, except one of the men looked to have been attacked by an animal. Bitten. I also found some medical records. It said a dragon had attacked him. I just thought you should know. Just in case we run into a dangerous creature out here.”

Jacobs lost the small amount of composure he was holding on to. He screamed into Diaz’s face. “I have enough to be dealing with here, Private! I don’t want to be hearing stories about mythical animals!”

Stephens smiled at that moment.

“Yes, sir,” said Diaz to Jacobs.

• • • • •

That night, back at the LZ, Jacobs was stood with Buttons on the edge of the perimeter. Their faces illuminated red from a flashlight Jacobs was using to view his map.

“Okay, that’s the route,” Jacobs said as he ran his finger over the path. “I’ve been as careful as humanly possible planning the journey. I’ve examined every possibility. I’ve picked out what I think will be the quickest and quietest route.”

“Nothing more you can do, LT,” said Buttons.

“Okay. Radio command and inform them of the route I’ve marked on the map.”

“Yes, sir.” Buttons took the map from Jacobs and got on the horn.

Jacobs went to stand with Maxwell, who was clicking a new roll of film into his camera with

sharp motions. “How you holding out?” the reporter asked.

“I’m still hurting over losing my first man. A man whom I had harsh words with not long before his death. I can’t forgive myself even though I know it wasn’t my fault. I’d given the order to not touch anything. You heard me.” Jacobs looked to Maxwell for acknowledgment.

The reporter replied with a nod.

“But I still feel horrible. Will it always feel this way … losing a man?”

“I’m sure it gets easier.”

“I can’t bear the load of any more men’s souls. For something so intangible, a lost soul sure does weigh a lot on a man.”

“Can I quote you on that?” asked Maxwell

“My father was a soldier, and my grandfather before him,” Jacobs ignored the question. “They have never mentioned the responsibility of a life, and what it feels like to lose one. Maybe it weighs on them too. Maybe it haunts them to this day. Maybe I’ll be haunted by the same ghosts my family are.”

“I wish I could offer you some advice. But I have none.”

Stephens joined them. He glowered at Maxwell.

Maxwell moved away, playing with his camera and looking nervous.

“You okay, LT? You look deep in thought.”

“I’m fine.” Jacobs cleared his throat. “I have our route planned. The position of the ambush point is some old temple ruins. There will be heaps of cover for us, not so much for any passing enemy.”

“I couldn’t help but hear you say, our route. Ambush ain’t the place for the lieutenant. You should stay back at the LZ,” said Stephens.

“I understand that, but I want to do this. It will be a good learning experience for me.” Jacobs couldn’t look Stephens in the eye.

“Well, I wouldn’t wanna get in the way of a good education. We’ll keep you safe. Put you with Buttons, in the back. If you get lost in the dark, don’t start yelling. Sit tight and we’ll find you.”

“Okay.”

“I have the men selected and we’re ready to go.”

“Put Diaz on point, he seems to know what he’s doing,” said Jacobs.

“Already have done,” said Stephens.

• • • • •

Diaz started them into the jungle.

Maxwell was standing by a foxhole taking pictures of the men as they passed by, the flash from the camera lighting the faces of the soldiers for a brief seconds.

Cage gave the reporter a dirty look.

Teacher and Smith smiled for the camera.

Jackson didn’t acknowledge it and said under his breath, “That guy really is a world class dickhead.”

The Doc didn’t acknowledge it either, and some other men whose names Jacobs didn’t even know.

Buttons walked with Jacobs. “I’d like to shove that camera up his ass,” he said.

“LT, anything I can quote you on?” Maxwell asked.

“Life insurance. What about a life insurance quote?” Jacobs kept his eyes focused on the dark jungle.

“That’s a good one,” laughed Maxwell. “I haven’t had that response before.”

• • • • •

Wind hissed through the jungle canopy. A heavy rain was falling. As the drops hit the leaves, the noise seemed to beat on Jacobs’s eardrums and echo around his mind.

Stephens had put Jacobs, Buttons, and the Doc at the rear of the ambush. All three men wore ponchos and sat in puddles of mud behind a worn and battered temple wall.

The other men were moving into position.

Jacobs saw Jackson setting up his M-60 towards the left side tip of the horseshoe-shaped formation. Two more men positioned another M-60 on the right tip of the horseshoe.

Smith placed the spare five hundred rounds of ammo by Jackson, who checked the fifty-round teaser belt in the gun to make sure the bolt was to the rear.

Smith checked that both of the claymore mines he’d set up were properly positioned then joined Jackson in position and plugged the arming wires into the firing magnetos.

Jacobs could see Stephens with Cage and Teacher at center right.

Teacher was on one knee. He had braced himself against a tree and was loading his Remington 12-gauge shotgun.

Stephens was prone in the center of the three men. He had laid out spare magazines and grenades within easy reach.

Cage was on one knee behind the fallen head of a Buddha statue. The rest of the statue was nothing more than rubble under his feet. Cage had his M-16 slung over a shoulder. Its spare mags rested on top of the head. He was loading Cook’s Blooper.

To the left of that position was Diaz with another private. The private was trying to gain some form of comfort in the rain. He wiped the water from his face to have it covered again in an instant.

Jacobs did the same. “It’s hard to see the men in the dark of the jungle’s night,” he whispered.

“That’s the idea,” Buttons whispered back. “Even if the rain is an annoyance to our visibility, it’s also an annoyance to the enemy’s. The sound is also good cover for us moving into position.”

A mist formed across the jungle floor. It moved around the debris of the temple and engulfed the men.

The mist brought hordes of mosquitos that buzzed around Jacobs’s face. He swatted some away

and saw a silhouette of Cage doing the same.

Jacobs took a second to listen to the chirrup of tree frogs then removed a Starlite Scope from his webbing. He placed the device, which looked like a telescopic rifle sight, to his eye. It took a few seconds for his vision to adjust to the light-intensified magnified jungle.

He could see some glowing green shapes in the dark but nothing he could call enemy.

“Any use?” asked Buttons.

“Not really. You need the weather, power, and ambient light to be just right for this thing to be of any use. All I can see is a greasy green smear.” Jacobs placed the Starlite back in his webbing.

He checked the mud by his feet with his hand and found the detonators for the claymores. The electric firing devices were shaped like miniature staplers. Each one had a wire clip placed under the handle to prevent accidental firing.

Jacobs whispered his way through the sequence. “Flip back the clip, squeeze the handle. The jolt of electricity travels down the wire and sets off a blasting cap in the mine. The C-4 torches inside the body of the device and a hail of ball bearings is sent out in a range of seventy yards.”