The P.H.O.T.O. (VOL 2) The Saga Continues

by Larry Hunt

CHAPTER FIVE

  TRYING TO SALVAGE THE PBR RADIO

  They now had themselves a boat and a damn fine one at one time – a PBR that he and Tinker had dubbed the ‘Minnow’. One of the brown water’s finest, but it had one glaring fatal problem – it was sinking!

  When they tied off the bow to the steel piling the rear of the boat swung around following the flow of the river until the bow was pointing upriver and the stern was on the downriver side. This allowed the river’s current to push a flood of water through the large hole in the bow directly into the interior of the boat. A hole caused by the ripping of the cannon from its mount by the ‘nuclear’ explosion which had been weaken by the barrage of .50 cal gunfire Sarge poured into it.

  When they all realized that their getaway boat was sinking they could do nothing but stand there and watch it slowly slip beneath the water. Sarge offered this good piece of wisdom, “Well there’s bad news and there’s good – the bad we see, our boats sinking!

  The good is the water is only waist deep here close to the piling so she won’t go completely under.”

  Little ‘S’ looked over at Sarge and sarcastically declared, “Thanks Pop, we really needed that good news!”

  Sarge replied, “No Son, that REALLY is good news, you see there’s a radio mounted up there on the bridge. We will never be able to re-float this baby but we might be able to reach civilization with that radio, and civilization means rescue. But the other REALLY bad news is it’s imperative that we retrieve the boat’s batteries NOW before they get wet and short out – we need them to provide juice to the radio.”

  At hearing this declaration of the impending battery disaster all including Sarge, scrambled onto the boat and started frantically searching for the batteries; they found them in the engine compartment and managed to extricate them topside; before Neptune, the god of the waters, destroyed them forever with his tri-pointed Trident.

  While Little ‘S’, Spook and Tinker were retrieving the precious batteries Sarge had ascended the ladder to the bridge to check out the condition of the radio. He had no trouble locating it. It was mounted exactly where he knew it would be, right underneath the control panel. Little ‘S’ passing beneath him carrying one of the salvaged batteries, looked up and said, “Find the radio, Pop?”

  “Yeah," Sarge said disappointingly.

  “What...! What’s the matter?” Little ‘S’ conjecturing something was amiss.

  “Good news and bad news again, Son,” Sarge declared.

  “Damn Pop, stop already! What’s the good news?”

  “Found the radio.”

  “Now tell me the bad! Little ‘S’ replied as he sat the heavy battery down onto the metal PBR deck.

  “Bullet hole clean through it! I bet that Ma Deuce made a mess inside too! Probably a lost cause," Sarge guessed, shrugging his shoulders and looking sorrowful at Little ‘S’.

  “Don’t be so hasty to jump to that conclusion Pop!” Little ‘S’ speculated, “maybe not! Remove it from the dash and let Spook and me take a good look at it, we might be able to repair it.”

  “It’s not a ‘dash’ it’s called the ‘control panel’!” Sarge responded.

  “Well fine! The ‘CONTROL PANEL’ - just get the sucker down here and let us take a look at it, okay?”

  Sarge knew the radio was not actually mounted to the control panel; however, it did slide into a bracket that was mounted under the control panel.

  Grinning he mused, ‘you mess with sons, that’s what fathers do.’

  All Big 'S' had to do to extricate the radio was remove the antenna and power connection and a couple of screws and it would be ready for Little ‘S’ and Spook. This he quickly accomplished and within a matter of a minute or so the two ‘radio experts’ had their hands on the chunk of metal and plastic that, at one time, appeared to be a AN/PRC-64 U.S. Army radio. Appeared was definitely the correct descriptive word. In the vernacular of the military – it was now shot to shit!

  “Well? Can it be fixed?” Sarge questioned.

  “Dunno! Give me your Swiss army knife – the one with the screwdriver blade – I’m going to open her up and (chuckling) look at her ‘private parts’, Little ‘S’ said to Sarge, while still laughing at his own joke!

  ‘Dumb ass kid!’ thought Sarge, ‘how old do they have to be before they grow up?’

  The only two ‘radio experts’ were Little “S” and Spook. They disassembled the radio on the deck of the PBR since it had settled down in the river as deep as it was going to sink. Thankfully that was the case, they had radio parts scattered all over the deck. Tinker helped too, she watched intently over ‘Spooks’ shoulder. It did not take the guys long and the radio was re-assembled and the two Marconi geniuses had to announce the final decision to the judge – Sarge - would it work, or not?

  * * * * *

  Sarge was standing on the bow peering intently upriver with the binoculars keeping a close watch in case Mr. Blue Beret wanted to re-appear from around the rocky promontory at the river’s bend, unannounced. He turned, saw that they were putting the final screw in place and asked, “Well, what’s the verdict?”

  Little ‘S’ had to field this one, “There’s good news and bad news Pop! Which (snickering) do want first?”

  “Let’s have the bad!”

  “Radio’s busted, won’t work!” said Spook.

  “Damn! Said Sarge, “and you’ve got GOOD news!’

  “Yep!” Little ‘S’ replied, “we got the CW to work!”

  “Damn straight that IS good” Sarge answered.

  Sarge knew that ‘CW’ meant 'continuous wave'. It dated back to the early days of radio and especially the telegraph. Through the means of CW Morse Code can be transmitted. The telegraph operator keying the Morse code 'key' simply breaks up this ‘continuous wave’ transmission into “dots” and “dashes." It uses very little bandwidth so it can be heard for a long distance. Sarge estimated at least 300 – 400 miles! And the "Prick' 64 radio has a built-in code key.

  ‘Now we’re cooking with gas’, he thought.

  “Okay,” Sarge asked, “I remember a little code, what about you Son?”

  “Well you remember I had to learn it in Boy Scouts to earn that Merit Badge, but hell Pop I only wanted that Badge. I didn’t think I would have to use it the rest of my life!” sadly he answered.

  "Spook," said Sarge, “what about you?”

  “Gosh darn it Sarge, where I lived when I was a kid, they shot Boy Scouts!”

  * * * * *

  “What a bunch of whooshes! Step back and let a woman do it! Anytime something ‘really’ important needs doing we women will step up to the plate. I know Morse Code, not just a letter or two or that Boy Scout stuff…I know it all!”

  “Tinker’, you continuously amaze me! How in the world do YOU know Morse Code?” Sarge amazingly asked.

  “Amateur Radio Extra Class License call sign ‘BV2CTT’ at your service, sir” said Tinker snapping to attention and saluting.

  “You – a Ham Radio operator? Tinker what will we find out about you next?” asked Sarge.

  “In Taiwan, using the Ham radio allows us to communicate with friends and relatives. Telephones are not always reliable and you never know who is listening. With the Ham radios we can use Morse Code and make up our own system that lets us keep our little secrets.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  TINKER MAKES CONTACT

  “Come on guys, oh, and doll, let’s get off this bucking bronco for a moment and get on dry terra firma. Before Tinker gets to tinkering on that CW key we need a plan,” Sarge said to the others as he stood up and started to get off the boat.

  “Wait, what do you mean plan? We’ve got a plan – get the hell out of here with that backpack of microfilm and documents you got on your back, right?” answered Little ‘S’.

  "Not that simple, Son. Let me explain our situation: first we are somewhere approximately 200 klicks northwest of the main Mekong River on some un-named tributary somewhere in
Northern Cambodia close to Thailand.

  Second, the map we have doesn’t even show this place.

  Third, we had all our gear piled up at the front door of the main house, well the hole that we called a door; along with any extra rations that we had, not expecting the ‘atomic bomb’ caused by those Russki son-of-a-bitches, now they are gone.

  Fourth, I know we have some Special Forces B Teams in Thailand – one is at Nam Pang 350 klicks north-north-west of Bangkok; another is about 180 klicks north of Bangkok close to Pac Khang and the final one is close to 800 klicks south of Bangkok at Trangi.”

  Spook spoke next, “We have an American Embassy in Bangkok and an American Consulate in Chiang Mai. I don’t know how far away they are from here, but I know Chiang Mai is a long way from here up in the north of Thailand. It’s at least as far as that Nam Pang place.

  “Well!” said Tinker, “I’ve got to start keying that Morse Code but we have one small problem.”

  “What! What could we possibly have as a problem?” Sarge asked Tinker sarcastically.

  “Open the top to that Army radio and you will see a card showing that this little jewel transmits on four bands: Band 1 from 2.2 to 2.85 MHz; Band 2 from 2.8 MHz to 3.65 MHz; Band 3 from 3.6 MHz to 4.7 MHz and Band 4 from 4.6 to 6.0 MHz or 2.2 MHz to 6.0 mhz.

  Another way to say this is our radio puts out a minimum of 2200 kHz to maximum of 6000 kHz. Most aviation Radio Frequency Finders (RFF) work on low to medium frequencies 190 kHz to about 1750 kHz or .19 MHz to 1.75 MHz.

  Do you Einstein’s grasp the significance?

  Their highest is 1.75 MHz our lowest is 2.2 MHz. We can’t use this radio as a homing device. If I get lucky to get another Ham on this piece of junk, what am I to tell him? Send a cab? Whoever he contacts for us is going to need a good RFF to find our radio in this god-forsaken dreary piece of real estate somewhere in Cambodia."

  "Okay... said Sarge. Okay, not good I see but let me throw this out – there’s not another radio in hundreds of miles of us. We know the general area we’re in (give or take a few thousand square miles).

  When they start searching for us what if we broadcast on our lowest 2200 kHz and they searched using their highest 1750 kHz, could they pick us up, maybe?” Sarge said throwing out the question.

  Tinker turned to the other two who sat there totally befuddled, “Guys open her back up and tighten the ‘frequency pots’ on the lower band as far down as they will go, we might decrease some kHz that way. We might just narrow the range a bit for them to get a fix on us. Most people are trying to get more output not less, it might just work.”

  “Sounds like a plan to me.” Forgetting himself Spook bent over and kissed Tinker on top of her head.

  “Sorry, I forgot my place! Sorry Miss Lu please excuse me!”

  “Excuse you heck, I loved it! Now get that radio fixed!”

  The finishing touch was applied to the radio and it was given back to Tinker. She took it from them, sat it down on the little barrel one of the guys had found on the Minnow. Sighing, she told them to connect the cables from one of the batteries to the radio. The command was obeyed immediately and everyone encircled Tinker. “Guys! Guys! I love to be around men, but not three at a time could you give me some breathing space, please?”

  “Sorry," they all said in almost perfect unison, and moved away from Tinker to give her space to work.

  She began by keying the letters ‘QRRR’. In Morse Code this is the equivalent to and ‘SOS’ and is recognized as the International Distress Signal (IDS) for Ham operators. They listened for a response - nothing. Again and again Tinker keyed the radio. The only response she received - static. Nothing but static was received.

  Turning to the guys, she said, “Fellows go over to the boat, sit down and get some rest. You can't do anything else to help...it's all on this little fellow now," she said patting the top of the Army radio.

  Sarge excitedly spoke to Tinker. “You must hurry, it will soon be dark!’’

  “That’s good! I will get better reception at night. The signal will bounce off the ionosphere, no telling where it will go.”

  * * * * *

  The sun of that day finally dropped from the sky and dusk was gradually approaching. The large growl from Sarge’s stomach told him it thought his throat had been cut.

  ‘We need something to eat, but we have nothing,’ thought Sarge to himself. He got onto the half-submerged boat and went below – the water was about knee deep but wasn't getting any deeper.

  He began opening cabinets and drawers – behold, on an upper shelf inside a top cabinet he found a goldmine!! A whole case of C Rations! Unopened! Sarge thought, ‘I don’t care what’s in there I’ll even eat the ham and eggs (everyone hated those).’

  He walked back out on deck and whistled, everyone turned and looked his way, he was holding up the C Ration case. Everyone jumped and ran toward him, setting the box on the edge of the boat he quickly backed off – they were like a pack of wolves jumping on a freshly killed rabbit. They had not eaten a bite since a quick snack for breakfast. They were grabbing any box they could reach, not even reading what was in it – they knew what was in them – food!

  * * * * *

  Tinker grabbed her box and retreated to the spot where Spook was sitting. He glanced at her box and said, “Good you got a B-2 Unit”. B-2, B-Smooze, she didn’t care if it was a B-17 bomber, it was food; she pulled out the first big can, ‘Spaghetti and Meatballs’. Sounds good she thought.

  Now she was in a quandary, ‘How did I get it open?’

  She looked on the top, nope, then the bottom, nope. All the while, Spook was eating his B-1 Unit of ‘Turkey Loaf’, not one’s favorite, but when you’re hungry as he was, ‘Turkey Loaf’ spelled “T-Bone Steak”.

  As he ate he was watching Tinker fiddle with her can of food. Finally he had tormented her long enough and handed her a P-38. P-38s are little military metal can openers – four of them are placed in a case of twelve C-Ration meals. The men all grabbed one - they knew that had to have them, she didn't.

  Now she had the P-38 but she was no better off, she did not know how to use it. Spook knew if he delayed any longer Tinker was going to starve to death so he asked for her spaghetti can and the P-38. In a minute he had her spaghetti opened and had ripped open her accessory pack and removed the plastic spoon. The accessory pack also contained salt, pepper, instant coffee, sugar, non-dairy creamer, four cigarettes (in a little cardboard pack), matches and toilet paper.

  After she finished her spaghetti Spook opened her can containing pound cake. It’s good but it’s really great if you have some canned peaches to pour over it. The peaches are not in her B-2 Unit, they come in the B-1 box so Spook gave his to Tinker and showed her how to pour the peaches over the cake. “Hummm”, she said as she took her first bite. “That’s fabulous!” she stated licking her lips.

  “Yeah, I know,” said, Spook wishfully thinking about the dessert.

  “Come here,” she said, “We’ll share,” as she gave him a bite with her plastic spoon. They sat almost nose-to-nose savoring the cake and peaches, almost as much as they were savoring each other.

  Little ‘S’ was sitting on the boat eating as Sarge punched him with his elbow; Little ‘S’ turned to see what Sarge wanted, and Sarge just nodded his head toward Tinker and Spook.

  Grinning Little ‘S’ quietly responded, “Romantic moonlight supper?”

  After the meal Tinker returned to keying the ‘QRRR’ message over and over again. Sarge walked back down to the river’s edge and sat down on the cool damp riverbank. He wanted to keep a vigilant eye upriver for the Blue Beret. Leaning his back up against a small sapling he retrieved the bloody Bible from his ruck’ and a smoke from his crumpled Winston pack.

  He was beginning to be intrigued by this Bible!

  First by the bloody “Z” scrawled on its cover and second he had never been a very religious person. Reading the Bible was sort of comforting yet confusing to him. He coul
dn’t explain it – it just was! Flipping open the Book to a random selection he looked down and read from Colossians 1: 25. “From the mystery, which had been hid from ages and generations, but now is made manifest to his saints…” Sarge thought to himself, ‘I wish I had paid more attention when Mama was reading and telling us about the Bible'. He pulled another drag on his cigarette and thoughtfully peering into the distance slowly exhaled the smoke through his nose.

  Meanwhile, Tinker was not going to give up on her ‘QRRR’ coding but she sure was getting tired. Her hand had about clicked its last “dot” and “dash” when she heard a faint “dot” and “dash” response. At first she could not believe her ears. Again she keyed in the ‘QRRR’ International Distress Code.

  Listening intently she heard the message in code clicking out the words: “READING YOU 9 BY 9 (loud and clear) WHAT IS YOUR EMERGENCY?”

  She turned and yelled, “I’ve got someone...! I’ve got someone!” The guys were on their feet and scurried over to the radio.

  “Who is it? Sarge said….

  ”Where is he? Little ‘S’ wanted to know.

  “Hush up everyone….”! She started keying again….”BV2CTT BV2CTT QRRR QRRR!” (Tinker’s call sign plus International Distress Code)

  Answer: “KW6798 RECEIVING 9 BY 9 (loud and clear), HOW CAN I HELP?”

  Tinker: “QTH KW6798” (Where are you?)

  KW6798: “LA, CA, USA, YOUR QTH”(Los Angeles, CA, USA, Where are you?)

  BV2CTT: “CAMBODIA, ASIA QSP” (can you relay a message?)

  KW6798: “YES”

  BV2CTT: “QRV” (are you ready to receive?)

  KW6798: ‘YES”

  BV2CTT: “AMERICAN EMBASSY YOUR NEAREST THEY CONTACT EMBASSY BANGKOK, THAILAND. CONTACT US TOMORROW 1500 GMT ON THIS FREQUENCY. TELL THEM SF OPS 113 PHOTO SEARCH REPEAT SF OPS 113 PHOTO SEARCH MUST USE RFF REPEAT MUSE USE RFF” (Translation: BV2CTT (Tinker) wants KW6798, Ham Amateur Radio Operator, in Los Angeles to contact the American Embassy nearest him. Tell them to contact the American Embassy in Bangkok, Thailand. Have Bangkok contact us on this same radio frequency tomorrow at 3 pm Greenwich Mean Time. Explain to Bangkok that we are Special Forces Special Operations 113, Code Name: Photo Search. Rescue aircraft must be equipped with a Radio Frequency Finder.