LITMIR.BIZ

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“We will have to carry their loads as well as our own.” He looked into the darkness where the five were gathering what they needed and spoke softly, almost to himself. “And we may have to carry it far because I’m afraid there is little chance that they will be returning.”

      Truong seemed shocked. “There is little chance?”

      “Do not feel bad for them. If they fail, we will likely share their fate.” Nguyen seemed to stare at Pham rather than Truong. “If I were a betting man, I wouldn’t wager five dong that any of us will be smiling by this time tomorrow.” He started to leave, then turned back. “Now get ready. If there is any shooting, we will have to get away from here as quickly as we can. But if our comrades are successful, we will leave slowly and quietly. Unless you are like Pham and don’t mind the danger, you should pray they are successful.” He slipped into the darkness.

      Truong followed Pham back toward their sleeping area. “For a minute there I thought our noble leader didn’t like our odds,” Truong said. “But I think it’s just you he doesn’t like.” Pham didn’t answer.

      The heavy weapons were still being readied for travel when Nguyen returned. The five soldiers committed to the detail filed past like condemned men en route to their execution. They had stripped to black shorts and dark headbands, and each carried at least one edged weapon. Most of these were short, deadly looking knives with the blades darkened. There were a couple of long blades, machete-like, more tool than weapon, and Co complemented his own short knife with a hammer with a heavy, square head. They padded along behind Nguyen on bare feet and dissolved into the blackness of jungle clinging to the slope of the Ong Thu.

      When it was anticipated that additional firepower might be needed, Nguyen had sent another man to join the sentry at the tree. He carried a Russian PRD light machine gun, an elongated AK with a drum magazine hanging from the receiver. Another drum was slung in a canvas bag over his shoulder. A bipod hung from the end of the barrel. Nguyen knelt beside them. “If things go wrong, empty your weapons into the valley,” he said. “Rake the mountain. We’ll need time to get clear, and you must give us that time.” The two nodded and Nguyen turned his attention to the others. “I’ve given them their orders should the worst happen. If you have to come back quickly, come low.” He rested a hand on Sau’s shoulder. “How long?” he asked.

      A small gust of wind cooled the sweat on Sau’s body, and he shivered involuntarily. He hoped Nguyen didn’t mistake the shudder for a sign of fear. “Five hours, maybe more.”

      “Chuc may man,” Nguyen said, patting Sau’s shoulder.

      Sau looked at the men waiting in the shadows. They looked like a gang of cutthroat pirates from the South China Sea. “We won’t need luck,” he said.

       8

      Tanner was sitting in the bowl of his upturned helmet, his back against one of the trees. The helmet rim dug into his cheeks, but at least his ass was off the wet ground, and the irritation was enough to keep him from nodding off. The jungle throbbed with the squeaks and squeals of countless insects, broken occasionally by the distant screech of a predator finding prey. Tanner let the noise feed his mind. The primeval tune played over and over until he was sure that any sound that didn’t fit the natural track would draw his attention. He kept a hand on the grip of his M16 waiting for that sound.

      The Chief lay a few feet away with his legs crossed and his arms folded across his chest like he was asleep at a picnic. His breathing was so shallow as to be imperceptible, and his face was a mask of serene composure. Tanner knew he wouldn’t snore or twitch or even change position until his watch.

      Just beyond Tanner’s feet, DeLong lay on his side with his knees hiked up and his arms pulled inside his flak jacket in an attempt to preserve body heat. He lay still and tried to keep his eyes closed, but he couldn’t sleep. It was his first night in the bush. The end of his first day, his first long, miserable day, and it was so new and alien that he couldn’t imagine a year of days like it. His occasional glances at Tanner and the Chief weren’t meant to reassure himself that he wasn’t alone, but to have visual proof that becoming accustomed to the life of a grunt was possible. He tried not to move, so the others wouldn’t know he was awake. Spending the night on a lonely LP in a Vietnam jungle shouldn’t be something that would make a Marine lose sleep, even if it was a first night, on his first LP, in his first jungle.

      The five men spaced themselves in an irregular line and, on Sau’s command, faded slowly into the undergrowth. They would feel their way with their fingers and toes, slipping through the leafy stalks and branches with no more disturbance than a slight breeze would make. Since plants were less forgiving at their bases, they would remain on their feet for as long as possible. When they were close to the enemy they would be forced to crawl, slicing the plant stalks close to the ground with their knives. It was a game of inches. The closer they got to the target, the slower they would move; in the end, their progress would barely be measurable.

      Though Sau was certain how this night would unfold, he had no doubt that he had selected men who knew what to do and how to do it.

      After two hours Sau’s men had covered half the estimated distance to their target, but they suddenly stopped and squatted in unison when a distant exchange of small arms fire erupted to the north. To the educated ear, the pops and cracks of the battle told the story. The gunfire echoed across the valley from some dark spot beyond the terminus of the Ong Thu. That nothing larger was introduced told Sau that the clash was taking place some distance from any American compound. He suspected that elements of the R-20th Doc Lap were plying their trade against Marines from one of the outposts at the bridge. The moisture-laden air and the thick foliage made it difficult to determine a precise distance. What sounded far away might be deceptively close. All the five could do was sit on their heels and wait for a reaction from below.

      After giving the Chief a furtive nudge with the barrel of his rifle, Tanner weathered a contemptuous glare and then handed over DeLong’s watch. The two sat together listening to the gunfire.

      “Sounds like Hotel Company out at Phu Loc,” Tanner whispered.

      The Chief looked at the watch then stuffed it into the breast pocket on his flak jacket. “Maybe.”

      Tanner leaned back against the tree and tilted his helmet down over his eyes. “Get some, Hotel,” he said to no one in particular.

      DeLong thought that pretending to sleep through a firefight, even a distant one, might be a bit transparent, so he raised his head a little and looked at the Chief.

      The Chief turned his head slowly. “It don’t mean nothin’ to us,” he said and turned back to the mountain.

      DeLong wanted to remind the Chief to take care of his watch, but instead he lowered his head and went back to his make-believe sleep.

      Bronsky sat with the radio handset to his ear monitoring the frequencies bouncing around north of their position. The sporadic chatter of gunfire interrupted the quiet slumber of the valley. The lieutenant knelt at his side.

      “What’s going on?” Diehl said.

      Bronsky listened intently to the handset then turned to the lieutenant. “A night ambush out of Phu Loc made contact. Sounds like a squad of Hotel’s 3rd Platoon.”

      “How serious?”

      “I think it’s all one-sided now. They’re on the horn to An Hoa, but they ain’t requesting any medevac.”

      The distant firing petered out and was followed almost immediately by the boom of man-made thunder. A hushed swish and a loud pop left an illumination flare dangling from its parachute over the valley. The empty canister spun in whooping somersaults on

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