Back on the runway, the Japanese pilot increased the throttle, and his plane picked up speed.
Granier ran down the side of the runway with every ounce of energy he had left in his body. He needed enough of an angle to hit the pilot through the windshield and avoid the metal support. He calculated how long it would take him to unsling his rifle, aim, and fire. He figured he might be able to fire twice before the plane took off. He unslung his rifle as he slowed, then stopped running. He brought his rifle around and aimed with the iron sight, not the scope. The scope would take too long to align. He needed two rapid shots. He saw the edge of the pilot’s face and aligned his sight, giving the target a slight lead to compensate for the forward motion. He squeezed the trigger, and his rifle fired. He saw the empty clip flip into the air. His gun was out of ammunition. He had lost count in all the commotion. A rooky mistake. He frantically reached for another clip and reloaded. But it was too late; he had lost the angle. He was crestfallen as he watched the plane’s wheels lift off. It was gone.
The plane took a sudden dive, and its wheels banged down on the ground again. The tail of the plane rose into the air. The propeller dug into the ground. The Zero flipped up into the air, turning end over end, smashing down again on the cockpit, exploding in flames as one of the wing tanks ignited.
“YES,” screamed Granier pumping his fist in the air.
The plane’s two bombs detonated in secondary explosions blowing the remains of the plane to pieces. Granier dove to the ground as the plane’s left wheel and landing gear flew past him, barely missing his head.
Seeing Granier down the runway waving at her, Spitting Woman broke off her attack, slung her rifle, put her arm around David and helped him retreat into the woods. The surviving Viet Minh sniper provided covering fire as the sapper threw grenades into the open cockpits of the remaining Zeros, destroying them. They retreated together, disappearing into the woods.
Without an officer to lead them, the surviving Japanese soldiers had no interest in pursuing the saboteurs. Their commander was dead, they had dozens of wounded, and their entire airbase was on fire. They were beyond demoralized. They tended to their wounded and saved what they could from the flames.
Granier was the last to leave the airfield. He couldn’t believe his plan had worked. But it had. He disappeared into the safety of the trees and rendezvoused with the surviving team members. They would find a safe place to rest. Their bodies had given all. They would sleep for several hours and tend to Davis’ wound the best they could before heading back to the Viet Minh camp.
Two days later the sabotage team arrived back in the Viet Minh camp. They were relieved to find that no ground attack had occurred. The Viet Minh and the Americans were safe for the time being. As a precautionary measure, Ho had ordered the camp to move to another location five miles away. It would be a gradual move, and they would be careful to cover their tracks. In the meantime, Giap had ordered the patrols around the camp doubled and the scouts to perform long-range reconnaissance of the surrounding mountains and forests. He wanted plenty of warning if a Japanese force was encountered.
The members of the team were surprised to find that the Viet Minh sapper that they had left in the forest had made it back and his ankle was recovering well.
Hoagland tended to Davis’ wound and reported his status to Dewey. “We should get Davis to a hospital as soon as possible,” said Hoagland.
“That bad?” said Dewey.
“It’s hard to say. I removed any bullet fragments I could find and irrigated the wound. But the odds of infection are high.”
“Transporting a wounded man through Japanese lines is not going to be easy. He would probably be safer if he stayed put.”
“He could die.”
“He could just as easily die crossing the border.”
“Buck did it.”
“Buck didn’t have a wounded man in tow.”
“If I am going to tend to him, I’m going to need more medicine and a proper set of medical instruments to probe the wound more efficiently.”
“Of course. I’ll see to it personally.”
“And Davis is down for the count. He’s got to rest.”
“Yes. Yes. He’ll be missed, but we will do alright without him. What he and Buck did was quite extraordinary, wouldn’t you say?”
“They had help.”
“And I don’t want to take away from that. The Viet Minh did their duty, and then some, but it was our team members that led them. I’m thinking of recommending them both for a citation.”
“I’m sure they would appreciate it. God knows they deserve our gratitude. Any idea when the Viet Minh will move the camp?”
“Soon, I hope. It’s not easy moving three thousand people through the forest without being detected.”
“Three thousand?”
“Their little army is growing by the day. Giap says we could have as many as fifteen hundred soldiers operational by the end of the month.”
“That’ll put a dent in the Japanese supply lines.”
“I should hope so. We’re getting a lot of pressure from HQ to step up our raids and take some of the burden off the Chinese forces. The Japs have been very aggressive.”
“They’re spending a lot of resources supporting the Viet Minh. I’m sure they want to get their money’s worth.”
“Exactly.”
The Viet Minh mourned their losses. The two soldiers that died during the mission were heroes and would be remembered by their families every year with a visit to their gravesites.
FIVE
Spitting Woman was given a day to rest, then sent out on long-range reconnaissance for several days at a time. Granier saw little of her and worried when she was gone. He knew it was stupid. She could take care of herself. That’s one of the reasons he loved her. She didn’t need him. She wanted him. That made him feel good. He wanted her too. He was excited each time she returned. He waited for her by the edge of the forest like a dog waits for its master.
When she arrived, he picked her up and made her kiss him before letting her down. She didn’t like it. She had just spent several days in the bush and wanted to clean herself in the river first. She liked to smell good for him even though he didn’t seem to care. She relented, kissed him, and he set her down. She motioned for him to go away. He obeyed.
Just seeing that she was okay made Granier feel better. He had work to do and knew he would see her later that night in the forest where they could have some privacy. Spitting Woman never seemed too concerned about privacy or even the appropriateness of their relationship. Granier didn’t feel any pressure like she wanted more. It was what it was, and it would last as long as it lasted. Just being with each other was enough.
When he looked back on his previous relationships – there were very few – the women always wanted to know where it was all going after only a few times of seeing each other. How the hell did he know? The relationships usually ended when he was deployed to some far off place and told them that he wouldn’t be able to communicate for several weeks or months. They never believed him and ended things in a fight. It was more convenient that way.
With Spitting Woman it was different. They didn’t talk, so there was no real way of knowing what was on her mind or even if this was a relationship. He had no choice and neither did she. They just had to go with it. Surprisingly, it worked.
He walked back to the area where the Americans were camped below the cliffs on a rise above the river. The Team’s camp was surrounded by large rocks that could be used for cover in the event of an attack. They had set up a camouflaged lean-to that hid their position from passing planes and shielded them from the rain. It also allowed them to have a small fire to heat their coffee and roast fish caught by villagers in the river and exchanged for American cigarettes.
Giap was talking with Dewey when Granier entered the camp. “Colonel Patti has requested that you attack the Japanese garrison at Tan Trao,” said Dewey.
/> “And the size of the Japanese force?” said Giap.
“At least a company. But I have been assured there are no more than two hundred and fifty soldiers in all. The old fortress is considered a key strategic point.”
“It should not be an issue. We’ll need a few days to prepare.”
“Of course. I will inform him that you accept the assignment.”
“I will send scouts to reaffirm the number of troops and assess the fortress defenses. I imagine a night attack would be best.”
“Perhaps. But let’s wait for the reconnaissance report before deciding on a plan of attack. It’s always better to plan with intelligence, especially when dealing with fixed defenses.”
Hoagland was tending to Davis’ wound. Green and Santana were playing poker with a well-worn deck of cards. “Buck, you want in?” said Santana throwing a cigarette into the betting pot.
“You playing for cigarettes?” said Granier.
“What else?”
“Dewey wants one of us to go with the Viet Minh to inspect the new village site,” said Green.
“One of you should go,” said Granier.
“Hot date?” said Santana.
Granier said nothing. Dewey and Giap were nearby. It wasn’t that he was hiding his relationship with Spitting Woman, but he didn’t want to draw attention to it either.
“We figured we’d cut cards for it,” said Green.
Granier looked down at the deck. It was hard to tell if it was marked or just so worn that the backs of certain cards were distinguishable. He trusted these two men with his life, but he didn’t trust them at cards. “How about we flip for it?” said Granier pulling his grandfather’s gold coin from his pocket.
“Is that a two-headed coin?” said Green suspicious.
Granier flipped it to him for approval. “Nice,” said Green inspecting the coin. “Where did you get that?”
“It was my grandfather’s. Are you satisfied?”
“Sure. Why not? But how do we make it fair? Someone has to flip twice.”
“Each of us gets a flip. Odd man out.”
“That works. I’ll flip it first.”
“No. I’ll flip it. You’ll drop it.”
Green tossed the coin back to Granier. He flipped the coin three times, once for each man. Granier and Santana both got tails. “Shit,” said Green.
Giap had overheard the three men talking. He glanced at the gold coin as Granier gave both sides of the coin a rub on his shirtsleeve before placing it back in his pocket. There was something about the coin that seemed familiar to Giap. He had seen it before. He said nothing.
When Giap returned to his cave, he moved to his homemade bookshelf. His books were his most precious possessions. Most were history books, many autobiographies of great military leaders – Alexander the Great, Julius Caesar, Sun Tzu, and of course, Napoleon Bonaparte.
He pulled out the volume on Napoleon and thumbed through the pages. Somewhere in the middle, he came upon a drawing of a coin. The coin had been minted in Turin after Napoleon’s victory against the Austrians. Napoleon’s profile was imprinted on one side and the three fleur-de-lie, the symbol of France, on the other. It was gold and had an original value of twenty francs. He imagined it would have increased in worth substantially. “Why would an American keep such a valuable coin in the pocket of his trousers? thought Giap.
It was late in the afternoon. Spitting Woman stood before Giap giving him a reconnaissance report in his command headquarters – a small wooden desk and a couple of crudely-built chairs beneath a camouflaged canopy. She had waited over an hour for him. He was a very busy man. She felt honored that he would take the time to hear her report directly. It made her feel like what she had to say was important.
They spoke in her tribal dialect. Giap had learned it when he first arrived. Few in the tribes spoke good Vietnamese, let alone any other language. They were primitive and uneducated. As a learned man that spoke their language, Giap was revered by their tribal leader, and Spitting Woman respected that.
When she was finished, Giap asked her to join him for some tea. She found it strange that such an important man would want to spend any more time with her beyond her report, but she didn’t dare refuse. He offered her a seat and poured her a cup of tea in a fine porcelain cup. She was afraid she might break it when she picked it up and handled it carefully using both hands so she wouldn’t drop it. She sipped the hot liquid. It burned her tongue, but she kept drinking it. She wanted to get out of there as fast as possible. She didn’t want to get into trouble.
She and her family needed the protection of the Viet Minh camp. Without it, they would be forced to return to her tribal village which had already been raided twice by the Japanese, each time resulting in the death or rape of tribal members, including herself. She had considered suicide after the second rape but knew her family, especially her children, would not survive without her. The rapes were a painful memory she tried to push out of her mind. She and her family couldn’t go back to their village, not until the war was over and the Japanese were gone for good.
Giap poured himself a cup of tea. The cup was also made of porcelain, but not matching. Nothing matched, not even the teapot. It was a hodgepodge of fine china looted from incursions against the Japanese and ‘borrowed’ from the Chinese. “The American called ‘Buck’… you are his lover?” said Giap taking his first sip.
“Yes,” said Spitting Woman, sheepishly. “Is it allowed?”
“Of course. It may be useful.”
“How?”
“He has a coin he keeps in his pocket. I’d like to see it.”
“It is gold. Are you going to steal it?”
“We are communists. We do not steal.”
“Do you want me to ask him for you?”
“No. I think it would be better if you removed it while he was asleep and brought it to me so I could examine it. You could return it before he wakes. He wouldn’t know it was gone.”
“Is there something wrong?”
“I believe I have seen that coin before… in a book. I want to confirm it is the same. Tonight would be good.”
“Yes, sir. May I go?”
“Of course. But please finish your tea first.”
She emptied her cup in one swallow, rose, saluted, politely bowed twice, and left. Giap scared her. Not because he was mean or vicious. He was a good commander. But he was also powerful, like one of the gods that lived in the woods. Her life and the life of her family were in his hands.
Granier was by the river waiting for her return when she saw him. He had protected her in the past and she was sure he would do so again. She ran to him, threw her arms around his neck, and pulled him down for a kiss. Granier seemed genuinely surprised by her outburst of emotion. “Is everything okay?” he said.
She didn’t understand the words, but the concern in his voice told her what he was asking. She looked into his eyes – her protector. She took his hand and pulled him toward the woods. “Okay. I ain’t gonna argue, but don’t you want to eat first?” he said gesturing eating with his free hand.
She didn’t. He picked up his rifle, leaning against the rock, and followed her into the trees.
They moved off a distance from the camp. She pulled him down into the grass on top of her. She wanted to feel his weight. She wanted to know he was big and strong; that he could protect her and her family. She kissed him passionately as she unbuttoned his trousers. He responded.
It was after sunset by the time they finished making love. It had been a long session, fiery. She felt a little guilty for having ravaged him the way she had. But not too guilty. He had ravaged her back. She felt a little sore and was sure there would be bruises. She laid beside him, staring, studying his face. He was asleep and looked surprisingly peaceful for a man of war. She wanted to wake him but decided she shouldn’t. He needed his rest, and she needed to do what Giap had ordered.
She felt bad taking
the coin without asking. She thought Giap’s request strange, but he was their military leader, and she knew better than to disobey an order from one so mighty. She put on her uniform, careful not to wake the American. Granier’s trousers were laying in a bunch at his feet. She remembered pulling them off in a hurry. She quietly picked them up, reached into the pocket, and retrieved the coin. It was heavy, a sure sign that it was gold. She had never held something so valuable in her hand. She didn’t know how valuable it was, but she was pretty sure it could buy several piglets. Maybe even a full-grown pig that her family could roast and share with their neighbors in the cave. But it wasn’t hers. She was just borrowing it as Giap had said. She glanced back at Granier, still asleep. She needed to hurry. She moved through the trees back toward the camp.
She found Giap at the edge of the forest waiting. “You were successful?” said Giap.
“Yes,” she said, handing him the coin.
“He sleeps?”
“Yes, but I don’t know how long.”
“It should only take a moment.”
Giap pulled out a cigarette lighter and broke his own rules by igniting it. This was important and worth the risk. He held the coin to the light from the lighter’s flame and studied it. It was Napoleon’s image he was most interested in seeing. The emperor’s profile was surprisingly detailed for a coin so old. It was beautiful, and Giap admired it. “Who was he?” she asked also starring at the beautiful man on one side of the coin.
“An emperor… like a king.”
“A king?”
“A leader like Uncle Ho.”
“And like you?”
“Yes. I suppose you are right. Like me.”
He closed the lid of the lighter extinguishing the flame and with it the light. He thought for a moment then handed her back the coin.”
“Is that all?”
“For now. You have done well.”
A War Too Far Page 14
