THERE BE DRAGONS

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THERE BE DRAGONS

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

THERE BE DRAGONS

Copyright © 2013 Peter Hallett. All rights reserved.

ASIN: B00CFT4NXY

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from the author or publisher.

Edition: April 2013

LEVIATHAN ENTERTAINMENT PRESENTS

A PETER HALLETT NOVEL

THERE BE DRAGONS

We Are Counted as Sheep for the Slaughter

VIETNAM 1968

“You think you can do it, Jacobs?” asked Lynch.

Lynch was young and lanky, with mousey brown hair, big front teeth, and a strong, squared jawline. He was a US Cavalry lieutenant, just like Jacobs.

“Do what?”

“Kill a man.”

“I’m not looking forward to it.”

“That’s not what I asked. I didn’t ask was you looking forward to it.” Lynch licked his top row of teeth. “I asked, could you kill a man?”

“Yeah, sure. I can … kill a man.” Jacobs cleared his throat.

“I met many men in training,” continued Lynch, “that won’t call the enemy human. You see, they don’t wanna think of the gooks as men. They say thinking of them as anything more than a target could be dangerous. What do you make of that?”

“It makes sense to me,” Jacobs said.

Jacobs was stood in line on the airstrip with the other lieutenants in Long Binh. They all sported regulation hair, carried duffel bags, and wore crisp green new fatigues.

Lynch was stood to his right, rocking slightly on the heels of his boots.

They were waiting for the signal to board the C-130 transport plane, which was being loaded with cargo. An APC, Armored Personnel Carrier, was driving up the ramp at its rear.

The base of Long Binh was like a city.

It contained all the amenities you would find in a regular city back in the States, but the noise wasn’t just that of car horns and engines, people chatting and venders shouting their latest hot dog and bagel offers; it featured the roar of the US Army, the screams of the higher ranking soldiers and the mechanical beating heart of the weapons and transportation of war.

It bustled with activity.

The base had dental clinics, restaurants, post exchanges, a Chase Manhattan Bank branch, basketball courts, tennis courts, and a bowling alley, even a driving range. It had nightclubs that played live music. A movie theater sat behind the reenlistment office. One building hosted University of Maryland extension classes.

The base had over 25,000 men stationed at it.

Jacobs could see Long Binh Stockade just beyond the C-130. The sun was directly over it. The heat was unrelenting in Nam. The humidity always hovered at 100 percent. The air was permanently thick and hard to breathe.

Jacobs was sweating.

Everyone was sweating.

A surgeon-captain was making his way down the line of soldiers. Jacobs could see him chatting to a trooper farther down the line to his right. The surgeon was gaunt and looked to be in his early fifties. He had grey hair and a hawk-like nose.

After a short while, Jacobs saw the conversation with that trooper draw to a close and the surgeon-captain pass the lieutenant some tablets, which he pocketed.

Once the surgeon had given the same tablets and verbal information to Lynch, he stopped at Jacobs.

“You may have noticed the heat here. It’s kinda hard not to notice it. You can get heat stroke if you don’t look after yourself. You need to take two salt tablets a day.” He handed the salt tablets to Jacobs. “And these,” continued the surgeon, “are anti-malarial pills. Don’t think you’re smart and purposely forget to take them. Contracting malarial to avoid active duty will be dealt with by court-martial.”

Jacobs was handed more pills. He placed them in his chest pocket.

The surgeon-captain moved down the line to the next lieutenant and started his spiel again.

“You know what else people do to get outta the war?” asked Lynch.

“When I went to my pre-induction physical,” began Jacobs, “I saw men dressed in women’s clothing and some men suddenly developing limps. One guy, who didn’t smoke, chained-smoked and went for a run before the medical.”

“No, I mean what they do once they’re in the field to get out.”

“I’ve heard of some. Like after surviving a firefight, some guys have shot off one of their own toes or stabbed themselves in the leg.”

“Yeah, man. They do all that shit. I also heard of some claiming to have lost their minds, pushing stories about seeing demonic creatures flying through the sky. Can you believe those cowards?”

“You’ve got to remember, for most of these soldiers, it isn’t a career choice.”

“It wasn’t for me, but I ain’t no wimp.” Lynch wiped some sweat from his brow with the back of his sleeve. “How did you feel when you got your draft papers?”

“I didn’t even open my draft papers. I knew if I didn’t open them, I could still enlist, which I did. I was able to defer my military service for six months, instead of having to leave straight away, like you’ve got to do with the regular drafting. It gave me the chance to spend some more time with my family and say my good-byes.”

“I enlisted as soon as I could. I chose to not defer. I was eager, you could say. You shouldn’t have said good-byes though.”

“Why?” asked Jacobs with a confused expression on his face.

“That kinda suggests you might not come back. Like you might not make it.”

“I’ve got to make it. I have a wife waiting for me.”

“How long have you been married?”

“About six months.”

“I see.”

“You know what’s the most horrible part about being away from her? It’s when I try to think about her, or dream about her.” Jacobs sighed before he continued. “I can see her in my mind. I can see her sitting in one of the fields behind my parents’ home. I can see her golden hair blowing in the wind. The flowered dress I bought her for her birthday. I can see small details, like a ladybird walking along the back of her hand, then it fluttering off.

“But then I see them.
The enemy. The NVA. Stabbing her with bayonets. Laughing.” Jacobs looked away from Lynch. “Sorry. Too much information. I’ve revealed too much of myself.”

“That’s a messed up situation, man. But it shows the anger building in you. You can use that kinda stuff to give you power when you’re in the field. Are you well educated?”

“First of all I’m reminded of something my grandfather would say. That being angry is like holding a hot coal; while you’re looking for someone to throw it at, you burn yourself, and second, I don’t have amazing grades, but my parents made sure I was well read. Why?”

“When you was talking about your wife, it sounded different than the other guys. Different than the way they talk about their girls. The words you used. It was like you were quoting from a novel or something. You know, like you got smarts. That’s all.” Lynch smiled. “What’s your wife’s name?”

“Samantha.”

“That’s a nice name. Is she pretty?”

“Beautiful. I’m a lucky guy,” said Jacobs,

“A lucky guy wouldn’t be serving in Nam,” said Lynch.

• • • • •

The signal came from the loadmaster for the lieutenants to board.

Jacobs, Lynch, and the rest of the sixty or so LTs were herded like cattle into the Hercules C-130 transport.

Once inside, Jacobs couldn’t help but stand jaw open, in awe at the size of the plane. “I know the specs … but wow. It’s like a large flying warehouse. It has a payload of 45,000 pounds; it’s over ninety-seven feet long, and thirty-eight feet tall. Amazing.”

“So what you’re saying is, that it’s big?” said Lynch.

Jacobs punched him in the arm.

They both shared a laugh then moved with the other men to squat down between the metal racks that were used to move pallet loads.

“This doesn’t feel like the most secure way to fly,” said Lynch. “It’s a world away from the comfort of the Boeing that took us to Saigon. I ain’t sure I’ll be able to keep my balance.”

“It’s funny,” said Jacobs.

“What is?” asked Lynch.

“The cargo is fastened in, but not us.” Jacobs smiled.

“That ain’t very funny. It’s worrying.” Lynch didn’t smile.

“Not as worrying as some other information I know about the C-130.”

Lynch rolled his eyes and sighed. “Now I’ve gotta ask what this worrying information is.”

“You don’t have to ask.”

“I do. It will plague me if I don’t ask now.”

“It might be worse to know the information.”

“Stop torturing me and tell me already, Jacobs,” Lynch blurted out.

“Well, the altitude the Hercules C-130 flies at makes it vulnerable to small arms fire. That’s one of the reasons they’re not pressurized.”

“Fantastic,” Lynch said sarcastically.

The loadmaster joined the rest of the men on the C-130 and the loading door shut behind him.

The engines roared and the plane took off.

Jacobs swallowed. “An Khe, here we come,” he said under his breath.

“Look at him!” Lynch had to shout to be heard. He made a head gesture to the loadmaster, who was sat reading an old, tattered, dog-eared paperback. The title had creased paper-veins through it.

“What am I looking for?” asked Jacobs.

“Apart from his appalling taste in trashy pulp fiction, look how chilled he is. So much so, he can sit and read a book comfortably! None of these lieutenants could be that relaxed. He musta done this trip heaps of times!”

“Why don’t you shout a little louder? I don’t think he heard you!”

“You gotta be kidding me?” shouted Lynch. “The engines are so loud, even the guy on the other side of me couldn’t hear anything I say. Unless I turned to scream in his face, much like I’m doing to you now! Watch this!”

Lynch took in a deep breath. He turned to the soldier behind him and hollered at the back of his head, “You! Yeah, you! The guy behind me! You’re the ugliest soldier I’ve ever seen! And that’s saying something. You won’t need to shoot at the enemy, just look at them and they’ll run away!” Lynch stopped the act and asked Jacobs, “Did he hear me?”

“No,” Jacobs admitted defeat and hung his head mockingly low.

“See!”

“Okay, you proved your point,” Jacobs said as he looked back up to stop his performance.

Lynch took a quick look over the lieutenants on the other side of the plane facing him. “Some are so pale,” he said. “You can practically see the fear infecting their faces.” Lynch’s eyes scanned over them again, but this time they locked in on a GI. “Apart from him.” He pointed for a brief second at the solider. “That guy over there looks … almost excited. He looks confident.”