the Last Run (1987) (37 page)

Thong eyed the young soldier and shook his head as if disgusted. "Sit down and rest. You look as if you will fall over and die. I would have to bury you, you know, and then the general's dinner would be late. I will gather the wood myself. Rest for a moment, then fetch the water. Perhaps you carried too much. You did not complain when I gave you all the pots and rice, did you? Foolish! You should have told me the pack was too heavy. Tomorrow we split the load, but only for a day. You are young! Act like it!"

Nuu couldn't help but smile. The old sergeant was loud and liked to hear himself talk but seemed friendly enough. He reminded Nuu of a rooster, the way he strutted and clucked all the time.

Nuu opened his pack and took out the pots for water. It felt good to be in the forest again. It was like an old friend. He walked toward the stream, passing the many escort soldiers that joined them that afternoon. Their drawn faces and thin bodies reminded him of himself only weeks before, but he still wished he were with them. They at least did not make war on farmers.

J. D. Gibson was sitting in the operations center, checking out the team insertion schedule, when Major Shane walked in with Lieutenant Foley and Childs. Shane sat down facing the gray- haired officer. "J. D., youVe been practicing your flying a lot, so you've missed out on our recent operations. We need to get you up-to-date so you can start inserting teams."

"You think I'm ready, sir?"

Shane smiled. "Yeah, you're ready. Foley tells me you're a real hotshot."

Gibson glanced at the bespectacled lieutenant with an appreciative grin.

Shane nodded to Childs, and the sergeant walked to the wall map.

"We've moved our area of operations to the mountains west of An Khe. We need for the teams to get one more mission under their belts before we move to Phan Thiet to begin the Corps mission. First Platoon was inserted today. Tomorrow, Second Platoon goes in, followed by the Third Platoon the next day. First Platoon teams have seen lots of footprints on the trails, but haven't spotted anyone yet."

Shane leaned forward. "J. D., you're going to insert the teams because I'm sending Lieutenant Foley to Phan Thiet with an advance party to find us a base to work out of. He'll take four commo men and Sergeant Gino to establish a TOC and make liaison visits to the aviation units. Study the map and learn all the team's landing zones. You've had enough practice. Tomorrow you start playing 'quarterback' in the big game."

Shane rose and patted the young officer's back. You'll do fine, hotshot."

The major motioned Childs to follow him, and the two men strode through the door into the darkness.

Shane waited until he was far enough from the ops center to be out of hearing distance and stopped. "Jerry, I want you to see what you can do to keep Specialist Meeks busy until I get him orders for the States."

The sergeant, in a low voice, said, "Sir, don't be too quick pushing his orders through. I've seen this before. I've got ways to get pussy out of his mind."

"I don't want him pushed to change his mind. He'll be useless to the team if he's forced. Just keep him busy, Jerry, that's all."

Childs gave his major a not-too-convincing, "Of course, sir," and smiled to himself. He knew a proven remedy.

Shane noted the tone. He hoped that whatever the sergeant planned met with his guidance. "I mean it, Jerry. Don't push him."

Childs blustered. "I heard ya the first time . . . sir."

Shane held back his smile. His sergeant couldn't lie worth a shit. "Come on, old-timer, let's drink a beer."

Thumper read over the letter he'd just written to Mary Ann. He'd explained his decision to go home and wait for her. He'd be assigned to a post somewhere in the States for only a few months, then he'd get out and could return to school and they'd get married.

He was about to fold the letter when Childs walked into the barracks and approached his bunk. "Meeks, startin' tomorrow you gonna work in the ops center and be an RTO. We got radiomen leaving tomorrow for Phan Thiet and you'll be replacing them. You'll work a twelve-hour shift and rotate with Dagood."

"Damn, Sarge, I'm not a RTO."

"You are now! Don't complain, lover-boy, I could let Top have you clean his latrines till you leave."

Thumper shook his head dejectedly. He didn't want to know how the teams were doing when they went in-especially Matt's team.

Childs watched the soldier from the corner of his eye. "When Three-one goes out, you'll be responsible for Bitch. She can't stay with Pete 'cause he'll be too busy gettin' ready for the move to Phan Thiet."

Thumper nodded in silence. He didn't mind taking care of Russian's dog.

Hiding a smile, Childs turned and strolled out of the barracks. He knew monitoring a radio all day would give the big soldier plenty of time to think.

Thumper folded the letter and put it in the envelope. Ten days, he thought, ten days, then home. Mom will be so relieved and dad will . . . damn it! Why did the major talk about guilt? I'm right! I don't have to stay. I've paid my dues. Mary Ann and I can . . . damn him!

Chapter 18

31 September

Lieutenant Gibson was tired as he leaned back in the bird dog's back seat and shut his eyes. The past four days had gone by in a blur. He'd flown for seven to eight hours a day, inserting teams and extracting those that had killed dinks in their ambushes. It seemed that every time they turned for home, a team had a contact. The pilot would then turn back, as J. D. directed the gunships and Slick in for pick-up. Only two teams remained out- Wade's 3-1 team and Jenkins's 3-4 bunch. Commo was very bad in the valleys, so he'd had to go up and establish radio contact with both teams and relay to base operations in An Khe. He'd called both teams and they'd reported they'd seen nothing, so he was finally heading for An Khe after a long day.

Wade let the tobacco juice roll down his cheek rather than spitting it out. He'd heard talking. They'd been laying in ambush just off an old trail for two days and had seen nothing. They were perpendicular to a steep-banked dry creek to their right. The noise he'd heard came from the creek bed. He motioned to Russian and Woodpecker, who were ten meters away, to check it out. The two men were hiding behind thick elephant grass only a few meters from the bank and had first alerted Wade to the voices.

Woodpecker crawled slowly to the edge and peered down the almost vertical fifteen-foot bank to a small pocket of water, where two khaki-clad soldiers were filling their tin canteens. The small Vietnamese had left their AK-47s lying on the bank and were talking in a high, singsong pitch, Russian saw the soldiers and quickly checked for others on die far embankment twenty meters away. The land was higher on the far side, but all he could see was more elephant grass. The two Rangers backed up. Russian turned to Wade and pointed to the streambed, then raised two fingers. Matt raised his hand and slid it across his throat, signaling to kill them. Russian and Woodpecker readied their weapons. Then Russian tapped the redhead and both raised up firing. The Vietnamese were flung backward violently, like limp dolls, by the impact of the bullets. Across the gully on the embankment, four other soldiers suddenly rose up from the elephant grass where they'd been resting. Each of their faces showed surprise, but one quickly raised his weapon and fired at the two shooting Americans.

Woodpecker had seen the movement and tried to bring his weapon up, but at that instant the bank gave way. The two men fell, with Woodpecker screaming out.

Wade saw only bullets kicking up around his two men and then they toppled out of sight. "They're hit," he screamed, and jumped up. He ran only two feet when a hail of fire tore through the tall grass stalks around him. Preacher and Rose raised up shooting but couldn't see a target. Wade tried to crawl to the bank, but the ground in front of him erupted in puffs of dust and dull thuds. He backed up quickly and lay panting. He took a deep breath and yelled, "Russian! . . . Woodpeck. . ." Bullets cut the stalks just above his head.

Russian brushed the dirt away from the redhead's face. Woodpecker immediately opened his eyes and sat up. They'd fallen to the bottom of a gully where the dirt cascading down after them had partially buried them. They heard Wade's yell but didn't dare respond. An enemy grenade tossed in the streambed would be devastating. Both men crawled to the far bank to get out of view of the enemy shooters.

Wade crawled back to Preacher, who had already called the bird dog for gunship support. The Indian looked at Wade's sweaty face. "What about Russian and Woodpecker?" he asked worriedly.

"They bought it," snapped Wade as he grabbed the handset.

Thumper listened to the speaker box as Lieutenant Gibson reported the information he had received from Team 3-1: "Pinned down by undetermined number of enemy. Two friendly probable KIA."

Childs stood behind him and kicked the chair over angrily. "The dirty motherfuckers!"

Thumper stared at the radio, unbelieving.

Shane ran into the TOC. "What's happening?"

Childs shook his head. "Three-one is in contact. Looks like two of 'em bought it. We got guns en route to help the others."

"Damn!" blurted Shane. "Are they sure?"

"That's all we got so far. The L-tee will be over 'em in a few minutes."

Wade spread his men out and crawled forward in hopes of at least spotting the hidden enemy. He got within a few feet of the bank when a bullet cracked by his ear. Rose saw the muzzle flash and fired. Three more flashes appeared close by the first. Preacher fired a long burst, as did Wade, to try to obtain fire superiority. Both sides were exchanging a steady rate of fire when a grenade exploded just behind the guerrillas. Matt couldn't help but smile. The grenade had come from the gully; at least one of his men was dive. Suddenly, the shooting stopped from the VC side. As Wade quickly changed magazines he heard the droning of an aircraft above. Thank God!

"Three-one, this is Romeo-three. What's your sitrep? Over," radioed Gibson.

Preacher answered quickly. "This is Three-one. Have four or five enemy firing at us from high ground. Will mark our location for guns. Over."

"Roger.'' Gibson flipped a toggle on his radio panel and called the gunships below him. "Rattier lead, Three-one is popping smoke. Call their frequency for instruction."

"Roger."

"Three-one, this is Rattier lead. I have yellow smoke."

Preacher was engulfed in yellow fog and could barely breathe. "Roger, you have us, Rattler. Enemy located twenty meters due west of yellow smoke. Make run north to south and I'll adjust."

"Roger, Three-one. Keep your heads down. We're coming in hot. Now!"

Preacher yelled out to the others, "Guns inbound . . . stay down!

Wade pressed himself into the dirt and clenched his teeth. He could hear the loud popping of the chopper blades as the first bird made an abrupt turn and lowered its nose. The twenty-pound rockets swished out of their firing tubes and screamed to their target. The ground shook under Wade and an earsplitting whack- boom deafened him for a moment. The rockets were right on target. The second gunship released its rockets just as Wade looked up. He saw the white smoke trails and again the earth erupted. The thunderous explosion threw up a dark black cloud followed by dirt and pieces of grass that floated like confetti.

Wade rose up firing and ran to the edge of the bank. He paused for only a second, praying that both of his men were alive, and peered over the embankment. Russian and Woodpecker were pressed against the gully's far wall. Wade couldn't speak. The sight of his two men, alive and unhurt, was too much. He was about to yell out when a Vietnamese staggered out of the smoke on the far embankment. His face and the right side of his body were blackened and oozing deep red blood. The soldier, blinded by his wounds, fell down just as Wade raised his weapon. The man got to his knees and tried to stand again when a shot rang out. His head snapped back and a piece of it flew upward.

Rose stood up ten meters away and lowered his rifle with a grin.

Wade yelled to Russian and Woodpecker, then motioned for Preacher to bring the radio up.

Preacher fell to the ground beside Wade, holding out the handset. "I already called the Guns and told them to stand by."

Wade took the handset with a nod and motioned over the bank. Preacher crawled to the lip of the embankment and saw the two men below. "Thank you, Jesus," he whispered and raised a hand skyward.

Wade patted the Indian's leg. "Amen," he said, and pushed the handset side bar. "Romeo-three, this is Three-one, we . . ."

When the updated situation report came in from Lieutenant Gibson, Childs spun around and picked up Bitch. "Well, ya dumb gook mutt, looks like they're all comin' back."

Shane, letting out a sigh of relief, noticed Thumper wiping tears from his eyes. Shane said nothing and walked out of the sweltering bunker. God, it's a beautiful day, he thought. The air seemed cleaner and sweeter than he could remember. The sun's oppressive heat wasn't so bad and . . . they're alive!

Shane threw back his shoulders and breathed in another full breath of air. The problems with the move to Phan Thiet didn't seem important now. Life, the precious stuff they always took for granted, was all that really mattered. His men would soon be back, laughing, bitching, and fighting as always. They'd hung on to life and beat the odds. There would be no solemn ceremony, thank God; only war stories-this time.