Authors: Travis Stone
59
C
olonel Hitchcock poured his third whiskey, drank half the glass, and
then picked up the last file on his desk.
This one had
merit. Two Viet Cong prisoners had been caught near Cu Chi, both carrying false
identification and detailed maps, which apparently showed infiltration routes
into
Saigon
. Hitchcock thought
of Nash's hunch and his face went hot. He moved his glasses down his nose and
read the name on the report:
Lt. D.P Bryant
.
Bryant,
Hitchcock thought.
He's a Negro. Intelligence staff should be
whites only.
Hitchcock binned
the report.
All this
nonsense about an enemy attack on
Saigon
annoyed Hitchcock. He could see why his junior-ranks were sucked
into such naive ways of thinking; they were immature, they lacked the experience
to view the bigger-picture. They jumped at shadows because they knew no better.
But Hitchcock did.
They will not
attack
Saigon
,
he thought.
The enemy doesn't have the capability.
Hitchcock
smirked. Under torture Thi had confirmed what all the quality intelligence
pointed to: the build up of forces near the Marine Base at Khe Sanh. An attack
on the outpost
was
imminent.
Now that's
something they are capable of,
he thought.
Giap
will oversee it himself . . . They want Khe Sanh to be another
Dien Bien Phu
.
He picked up the
phone, stated who he was, and demanded to be connected to the Commander at Khe
Sanh. There was a series of clicks as the operator connected him. Hitchcock put
his finger into his nostril and started loosening a hard piece of mucus.
If
the NVA attacks Khe Sanh,
he thought.
We will crush them.
60
A
bitter chill raised a thousand bumps over Amai's skin.
The cave was
dark and damp and the force of the waterfall stirred up a cold breeze. She had
not dared to look over the edge - a fall from here would be a horrible death.
Amai looked out
through the semi-translucent veil to the rock-face and saw the dim shapes of
Triet's soldiers. Golota stood by the water, peering out and grinding his
teeth. Then Golota tensed and raised his hand.
Amai watched
three soldiers climb onto the ledge. She held her breath.
A whistle blew,
and the soldiers began to climb down.
Amai let out her
breath, but Golota stayed ridged. She saw why: one of the soldiers didn't go
down; his shimmering body came close to the water. Then he reached out and
touched its surface.
The soldier's
thin hand appeared in the cavern; his fingers curling as they entered the
space.
He'll find
us,
Amai thought.
Golota moved
like lightening. He grabbed the hand and yanked the soldier into the
cave.
The teenage
soldier's eyes bulged as he realized the situation.
Like a bull-frog
striking a fly, Golota's right hand shot out and clamped around the boy's
throat. Golota began to squeeze. The boy made an awful rasping sound.
Amai was horrified.
She wanted to look away, but couldn't.
The boy's body
shook. Golota held on.
Then without
warning, the boy thrashed like a stunned eel, and drove his knee into Golota's
groin. Golota let go. The boy chopped Golota's neck with the edge of his hand.
Golota stumbled
backwards, toward the precipice. The boy saw his chance, crashed onto Golota,
and drove him to the edge.
Amai lunged
forward, grabbed the boy's pajamas, and pushed him as hard as she could. The
falling water struck the boy, slammed him into the rock, and washed him down
the cliff face.
Golota looked
about to fall. Amai grabbed Golota's hand and pulled him back from the sheer
drop.
Danny came to
her.
'Christ,' Chaske
said. 'The NVA'll see the body.'
The redhead got
down on his hands-and-knees and looked over the edge. Chaske held his boots and
he leaned out further.
'I see him. He's
hung up bout halfway down. He's dead.'
'Will he stay
there?' Chaske said.
'Could drop any
second.'
'Can we reach
him?'
'No chance.'
Golota paced the
cave, cursing.
Amai chewed her
fingernails. Several minutes later she saw Triet's men move off.
* * *
Triet winced; his cramps would not settle -
not until Amai was dead.
He said to
Thanh: 'We will link up with the search-dog teams, and scour every inch of the
forest until they are found. Is that clear?'
'Yes. We have
ringed the area with anti-aircraft rockets. Any helicopters coming in or out
will be shot down.'
The news was
like a pain-killer. 'Good, Thanh. She can't destroy Tet. It is the biggest
operation in Viet Minh history. The most important ever.'
61
H
itchcock looked at the piece of paper and smiled.
Finally
something worth reading.
It was from
Corporal Mancini: an invite to an Intelligence staff barbeque, poolside at the
unit accommodation. It was the first off-duty party that Hitchcock had been
invited to since arriving in
Vietnam
, and he was secretly excited. He noted the invite stated that there
would be strippers, and he called out to Mancini in the adjoining office.
Mancini reported
promptly.
'This party,
Corporal,' Hitchcock said. 'What date is it?'
'January thirty,
Sir. Be there or be square.'
'Okay. Better
can the strippers though, son.'
'Sir?'
'Shows a lack of
moral integrity don't you think.'
'Ah . . . yes,
Sir.'
62
T
he Montagnard led them out of the cave and onto a steep track. 'We
go up.'
Amai felt an
intense urgency: she had to report Tet to MACV before it was too late; but they
were in the middle of
Laos
-
miles from anywhere.
Is there any
chance at all?
If
Saigon
's population was slaughtered, Amai
would never be able to live with herself - her life would be over.
Chaske's lack of
urgency frustrated her.
He's not taking me seriously?
She thought.
He
doesn't understand?
Outside of this
group, no one else knew about Tet;
Saigon
's survival would come down to her, and her alone. She followed
Danny along the narrow track, high above the jungle. Triet was somewhere down
there; she knew he would never give up.
What chance
do we have?
She wondered
what Chaske's plan was.
Does he even have one?
Everyone was on
edge; they obviously harbored similar doubts.
Even if we do
escape Triet,
she thought.
How will we
escape
Laos
?
Amai knew that
it was up to Chaske to lead them to a radio. Without him, Tet would proceed as
planned and Triet would win.
The Montagnard
stopped them behind a massive crag. 'You never find way down. Too steep.' He
smiled proudly. Beside him was a small hole in the ground.
Amai realized it
was a natural vertical shaft, and the Montagnard wanted them to climb down it.
Amai saw Danny's
face drop.
'Keep back to
wall,' the Montagnard said. 'There are steeps for feet and hands.'
* * *
Danny stared at the tiny hole, and thought:
What is it with these people? Humans aren't meant to go underground.
One-by-one, the
team got into the hole behind the Montagnard. Danny shuddered.
Amai touched his
shoulder. 'You can do it. Think of what you've already overcome.'
Danny gritted
his teeth and followed Amai down the hole. Images of Triet's underground
prison, the baboon, and the terrifying underwater escape mauled him. He put his
back to the wall and began to climb down. There was no way he could fall; the
shaft was too tight, and sharp steeps had been chiseled into its face. As Danny
descended the rock incased him. But something had changed: he was
uncomfortable, but the claustrophobic terror was gone. He
could
do this.
He felt strong. He felt like a man.
* * *
Amai reached the bottom of the shaft,
crawled into the bright sunlight, and stood up. Vertigo tingled in the soles of
her feet. The team was standing halfway down the bluff's perpendicular face, on
a path only two feet wide. The fall would be fatal if a mistake was made.
Danny stood
behind her; she turned and kissed him.
The Montagnard
descended the path as if on flat ground. The team all put their backs to the
cliff-face, and shuffled down the path, back into the rain-forest.
They grouped on
the forest floor. Amai said to Chaske: 'How will get out of
Laos
?'
Golota cut-in:
'What
is
your plan, Thorn? Have you even got one?'
'Eyes open -
stay tight - follow me,' Chaske said. 'Let's go.'
The heat
intensified in the coalesced foliage. Progress through the vines and vegetation
was slow. Amai thought that it was so thick, she could be inches away from a
snake, or a tiger, or an NVA soldier, and not even know it.
Chaske had
stopped. An obvious trail cut their course.
Golota sneered.
'I suppose you want to follow it, Thorn?'
The trail was
stamped with sandal prints. Chaske crossed it and disappeared into the foliage,
and behind his back, Golota made a pistol out of his thumb and forefinger, and
mimed his execution.
Amai felt deeply
apprehensive.
* * *
The
midday
rains pitter-pattered on the glossy leaves.
Chaske lay on
the clotted mud. Ahead, a narrow inland waterway cut through the grayish loam,
winding its way into the vastness of
Laos
. Six sampans lay side-by-side on the bank. Chaske was looking at
the sampans.
Blue said:
'Water looks like baby-shit.'
Golota said:
'NVA'll be using it to supply that fucking base.'
'Could be a fast
way of getting us outta here,' Chaske said; a rudimentary plan forming in his
mind.
When the team
had first found Danny and Amai on the beach, and were forced into
escape-and-evasion, Chaske had recognized that trying to beat the one-hundred
strong NVA pursuit, would never have succeeded in the steep terrain of the
Annamite
Range
. Sure friendly forces would have been closer, but they would never
have reached them.
But Chaske had
an idea.
To the others,
Chaske knew it would sound crazy, so he concealed his intentions, hoping to
eventually stumble onto a recognizable section of the Ho Chi Minh Trail. His
main problem, aside from Golota, was that he had no idea of his actual
location. He was hoping that this waterway would lead him somewhere
recognizable - somewhere he might find what he was looking for.
Golota said:
'You're not seriously thinking about stealing a gook boat?'
Chaske thought:
Will
I lead them to their deaths?
Golota kept on:
'We're fucked anyway, but if we take one of their boats, we're dead men
paddling.'
Chaske crushed
his doubt. 'Everyone in one boat,' he said. 'Let's move fast.'
Golota rose up.
'You're gunna kill us asshole-'
Chaske stood.
'This is no life-boat democracy Golota-'
'It's no goddamn
sanctioned operation-'
'Keep your noise
down.'
Golota lunged
like an attacking dog.
Chaske
reflexively hooked his fist up into Golota's jaw. The shock of the blow
reverberated up Chaske's arm. Golota fell onto his back.
Golota rose like
a snake, drew his sidearm, and pointed it at Chaske's face. Golota was shaking.
Blue stepped
between them. 'You pull that trigger John and the sound'll bring Charlie down
on top of us. They're probably close.'
Golota lowered
the pistol. 'Have it your way, but its suicide.'
The fifteen foot
long sampan smelled of gun-oil. In and around the craft they found straw hats.
They each put one on.
When everyone
was in the sampan, Chaske pushed it into the channel where it bobbed
uncertainly before settling low in the water. Chaske climbed in at the rear and
donned his hat, knowing that the disguise would not stand up to scrutiny. He
wondered how many other sampans they might encounter traveling toward them.
Is this a
mistake?
Above, the
interwoven canopy blocked the sky, the trees strangling each other in their
ruthless battle for light. A green hue emanated from the leaves, tinting their
faces jade. Dragonflies skimmed the water. Clouds of mosquitoes hovered at each
bend. Rain tapped against Chaske's hat. The paddles sloshed the brown water.
From the stern,
Chaske scanned the jungle. Beyond the bank, visibility was zero. No one would
see them unless they were on the water itself. At the bow, Golota held his PPS
sub-machinegun in his right hand, and scratched the back of his neck with the
other, raising welts on his skin. Chaske wondered when Golota would crack and
do something that would get them all killed.
It's only a
matter of time,
he thought
.
Now he regretted
bringing Golota, but at the time he had had no choice - he had needed a pilot.
Now Chaske had to live with that decision, and do his best to keep the team
alive.
He looked up. A
lemur's ghostly round eyes watched him from above. The sampan gained speed and
Chaske mentally went over his plan.
All at once, he
felt the team tense.
They drifted
into a snaking left hand bend and Chaske saw the reason for alarm. The waterway
widened into muddy banked mangroves, where four women stood hunched on the
right bank, scooping tiny shellfish into big woven baskets. The sampan drifted
closer and Chaske could see their mouths, stained red from chewing betel nut.
Chaske looked to
Golota, fearing he would open fire. To his relief Golota had hidden his weapon.
The team hunched
under their hats. The boat drifted within fifteen feet of the women. The women
looked up. They stared too long.
Cam
called out a greeting in Vietnamese. It went unanswered. They
paddled around the next bent and out of sight.
Could they
tell we were impostors?
Chaske thought.
How long
before they report us?