by Eric Meyer
“They outnumbered us three to one, that was the first problem and they were also very lucky. But we could have dealt with it if they weren’t so good. They were veteran troops, Russo, you saw how quickly they responded when we opened fire. They still outnumber us two to one and will have called for reinforcements, possibly even air support. It was a risk worth taking and it didn’t pan out, so we’re running.”
We dashed along the track and over the top of the low mountain range. The valley below us stretched far into the distance, a sea of thick, dense greenery that would help us to disappear from our pursuers. Bullets clipped rocks as we tumbled down the steep path, it was fortunate that Ritter had taken the casualties, if we were carrying Goldberg and Anderson we would have been finished. We reached the bottom and fought our way into the jungle along a small trail. After half a mile I saw a tiny opening in the jungle and told Paul to lead them away while I took Russo further along to lay a false trail before doubling back and following our group.
It was getting dark by the time I called a halt, we hadn’t heard any sound of pursuit for over an hour and I assumed we’d lost them. We’d also lost our way. We made camp and spent a miserable night listening to the sounds of the jungle, the occasional roar of a wild animal, a shriek as a creature was taken for food and the incessant buzz of thousands of crickets. They were the primeval sounds of the forest, no different to what they had been thousands of years ago. It was broken suddenly by the sound of Abe Woltz singing softly, a pop song called ‘Duke of Earl’ that had been on the radio stations recently. He had a surprisingly good voice, I think it cheered us all up, until Cady snapped at him to shut up in case the enemy heard us. We all looked at the officer sceptically but said nothing, his authority was slipping badly enough as it was. In the morning we prepared the last of our food and got ready to move out.
“You know where we’re headed?” Beckerman asked me. “South,” I replied. When I didn’t say any more he shrugged and picked up his pack.
We pushed east through dense jungle for several hours, it was midday by the time we came across a trail that intersected out path heading towards the south. We took a short break and sat quietly, hungry and miserable, depressed by the unending green of the jungle that seemed to claw at our boots, our bodies and our very souls for every step of the way. Water was a problem and when we found a stream that looked less dirty than some Beckerman used water purification tablets to sterilise some water and we were at least able to fill our canteens. It was almost dark when we abruptly came out of the jungle and saw a road in front of us, by European standards it would have been a farm track but here in Vietnam is was something akin to an autobahn. I went forward cautiously with Russo and Woltz while the others followed at a distance. The road looked clear but after we’d walked along it for several hundred yards we nearly stepped into a roadblock.
It was only the smell of tobacco smoke that alerted us. We melted into the jungle and set up camp a mile away and settled down to wait for dawn. Cady insisted we mount a night attack on the roadblock, until I gently reminded him that we had no way of knowing where the Viets were deployed and that we could run straight into a much larger force. He persisted that we could get around them, until I pointed out that a large force of infantry in our immediate rear was not good military tactics.
We awoke at first light and crept forward. Two lorries were parked across the track to block it, soldiers were everywhere, possibly two platoons of them, with a pair of lieutenants in command. One of the lieutenants seemed to be more senior but oddly he was much younger than the other man, when I looked through my binoculars I could see the men looking at him with thinly disguised contempt. Half of them were to the east side of the track, the other to the west. The senior lieutenant joined the men to the east. They were poorly deployed, lounging around and smoking as opposed to the older lieutenant’s men who were skilfully deployed in good positions, alert and watchful. We doubled back to our group and explained the situation.
“Couldn’t we go around them?” Jack Bond asked the question they all wanted answered.
I shook my head. “If they know their business, they’ll have patrols out in the jungle and further down the track, we’ve no way of knowing who we’re going to run into.”
“We’re fucked,” Cady said loudly, “totally fucked. We should have attacked last night.” We all looked at him, shocked by the deterioration in him over the past twenty four hours. He was unshaven like the rest of us, but his eyes were red rimmed and blazing, his skin pallid.
“Not yet, Captain, not yet, we’ve still got some options.” He seemed to retreat into some kind of trance. I turned back to the men.
“We need an inventory of our weapons and ammunition. Let’s see what we’ve got.”
“You mean you think we can take them all?” Russo asked.
“Unless you have a better plan, I don’t see any alternative. Even if we crept around them we’d have no way of preventing them from pursuing us if they found out. Believe me, they always do find out, this is their country, we are just the visitors. A passing peasant would sound the alarm, a hidden checkpoint, an unexpected overflight, we’ve no way to tell. They’re fully mobile, they’d be on us in no time at all.”
They looked at me for a moment, obviously wondering if I was making the right decision. All except Paul, who had been in this situation many times before and Cady, who was unable to fully reason things out.
We took stock of our weapons and ammunition. We had six sub-machine guns between us, as well as Woltz’s sniper rifle and an assortment of handguns. There were two AR15s, early versions of the M16 and about a hundred rounds for each of us. The grenades had been used up in the previous attack. I outlined a simple plan, ideally we would use one of their vehicles but taking one might prove to be impossible.
“The platoon to the east of the track appears poorly led and I doubt they’ll be effective when it comes to a fight. They’ve got a light machine gun each side of the track, a Degtyaryev DP. If we can take the platoon to the east we can turn the Degtyaryev on the platoon the other side, I’m hoping they’ll be less than enthusiastic about firing on their own positions. But it’ll mean a long crawl to get behind them and we’ll need to take them in total silence.”
“That’s what we’re trained to do, Hoffman,” Russo said. “Very well, Joe, it’s time to earn your pay.”
We left Cady ostensibly to guard our packs, in reality to keep him away from the action. I took Russo and Beckerman and Paul took the other two, I intended to hit them from south of their position, Paul from the north and work towards the middle of the platoon. If one soldier cried out, fired a shot or shouted a warning, the plan would go awry. We crawled past them, about fifty yards back in the jungle. The smoke alerted me first, a hidden sentry was enjoying a cigarette behind a thick bush. I nodded to Beckerman and he drew his fighting knife and crawled around the other side of the bush to take him from behind. I heard a slight rustle of clothing, otherwise it was a totally silent kill. Beckerman crawled back to us and we continued towards the main group. As I had anticipated, they were poorly deployed, the two men at the most southerly end of the line were murmuring quietly to themselves. While I waited, Russo and Beckerman crawled quietly forward and I saw each of them put their arm around the neck of one of the soldiers and drive the points of their knives through the eye and straight into the brain. They pulled the bodies down and laid them out of sight. I heard another soldier whispering to his comrades, calling them and I crawled forward. His voice grew louder and he stupidly stood up and walked towards their position. As he came up to where he probably assumed his comrades were sleeping I stood up, clamped my hand over his mouth and slit his throat.
We crept quietly towards the officer and left two more Viet soldiers bleeding into the damp soil of the jungle. So far, none of the troops the other side of the track appeared to have noticed anything. The lieutenant our side of the track suddenly shouted across to the other officer, who hissed at him, I didn�
��t need to speak Vietnamese to know he was telling him to get out of sight and shut up. But it made no difference, the lieutenant, smartly dressed but soft and oily looking, spoke more sharply to the other officer who shrugged and ran across the track towards him. It was too good an opportunity to miss, I’d warned Woltz to hit any target of opportunity that presented itself. The two officers were stood together with three of the soldiers from our side of the track. I prayed that our sniper would recognise the chance. There were five soft ‘thunk’ sounds, they couldn’t have been more than a second apart. All five men dropped and lay still. There was an outbreak of confused shouting from both sides, three more men stood up on our side of the track and also half a dozen from the other side who looked suspiciously around the greenery that embraced them. The three men on our side went down, three ‘thunks’ in quick succession. Woltz switched aim to the soldiers the other side of the track and five of the six who had stood up went down, the sixth man scrambled away before Woltz could move his aim.
I heard the Vietnamese soldiers shouting to themselves and across to their comrades our side, but there was no answer, we’d got them all. Shots cracked out and a bullet whistled close to my head. I crawled away and came across the Degtyarev, Russo and Beckerman had already secured it and were checking the magazine. More shots cracked out from across the track, several sustained bursts of AK47 fire spattered around us, then Russo and Beckerman opened up with the Degtyarev. It was a slow rate of fire but devastating, they’d aimed at the Degtyarev opposite and hit it with several bursts. The two man crew, scrambling to bring their weapon to bear, went down in a hail of bullets, several of which smashed into the machine gun and I saw the pancake magazine spin away into the foliage as it was hit. The gun was out of use, we’d reduced the odds. The Viets had recovered well now and were pouring fire into us, so far no one had been hit but it was more by luck than skill. The Degtyarev kept firing, Russo furiously changing magazines as they emptied. I estimated that we’d killed or wounded around twelve of the enemy, which still left a good number to return fire. Then the Degtyarev jammed. They banged furiously on the breech to try and free it but I could see it was useless. They abandoned the gun and started using their sub-machine guns to continue the fight. We were outnumbered by perhaps three to one which was not healthy. Even worse, they only had to hold on for reinforcements to arrive which they inevitably would. We needed a miracle to turn this fight to our advantage and Cady gave us one. He ran onto the track, his hands in the air clutching a white cloth, I could hear him shouting “I surrender, don’t shoot.”
We all ceased fire, both sides, astonished by the incredible spectacle of an American officer wild and dishevelled, running towards the Viets. Several of them stood up, I assumed they thought that we were all giving up. It was too good an opportunity to miss. I stood up and ran, shouting, “Charge!”
The others needed no more encouragement, they rose up and ran towards the enemy only a few yards away across the jungle. The Viets looked towards us, alarmed as it dawned on them that we weren’t surrendering and they started to aim their weapons at us, some dived for cover, but it was too late. As I sent a burst hammering into them, I saw Cady go down under a long burst of AK47 fire. Then we were amongst them and it was fierce, bloody work that we had all been trained for. Woltz was still firing, knocking down the enemy one by one as they came within his field of vision. Beckerman screamed and fell as a bullet hit him, but the rest of us crashed into the enemy and it took little more than a minute to scythe them down with sub-machine gun fire. Two of them threw up their hands to surrender, but Russo hit them with another burst. A sergeant loomed out of the scrub in front of me and I shot him as I moved past. The jungle went silent, we’d finished them all. We hoped that none had escaped into the jungle but we couldn’t do anything about that, time wasn’t on our side. The Special Forces men looked around, awestruck by what we’d achieved.
“Damn, if that don’t beat all,” Jack Bond said as he looked around at the carnage.
“Did anyone check Captain Cady?” I asked.
Woltz was walking towards me. He nodded. “Yeah, he’s dead, that burst ripped him apart.”
I came across Beckerman, he was lying against the trunk of a tree, blood stained his combat jacket. Bond had gone over to him to dress the wound.
“How is he?” I asked him. “A shoulder wound, he’ll be ok.”
“Paul, would you check out the trucks, see if they’re useable. Joe, could you take a look too?” They nodded and quickly went to check them over. I heard the rumble of an engine starting, Paul came back to me shortly after.
“One of them is useable, Abe and Joe are changing a tyre that got shot out. The other took several bursts into the engine compartment, it’s useless.
“Right. Would you help me to get Cady’s body into the truck and we’ll see how far we can drive towards the DMZ. I don’t want to bury him here, we’ll find somewhere quiet along the way.”
We hoisted Cady’s bloody body onto the bed of the truck and covered it with a tarpaulin. The men were gathering as much ammunition and weapons as they could find and they threw them in the back beside Cady’s body. Finally they climbed aboard and Paul drove us along the track. We were back on our way to the DMZ.
We travelled for another fifty miles without incident, as we passed peasants along the track the men in the back put their heads down and Paul and I covered our faces with our hands. It may have fooled one or two, maybe more, but not all of them. It was all we had. I told the men in the back to watch for aircraft and we continued along the track, lurching and bumping on the ruts. Beckerman’s wound re-opened but although he was in pain he gritted his teeth and didn’t cry out as Bond re-fastened the dressing.
“Why do we always wind up fighting wars in these sub-human countries, Jurgen?” Paul said abruptly.
I started. I was miles away, I’d been thinking of something else, my mind had wandered to Helene. She’d smiled at me in that beautiful, sensuous way as I came to her and started to remove her blouse. Her breasts were still firm, the skin smooth and creamy. I was touching them gently, when Paul spoke I realised that I had begun to get an erection. I brought my mind back to the present with an effort, daydreaming would get us all killed. I had to survive, had to get back to Saigon and do everything in my power to help her. I focussed on what Paul had been saying to me.
“Germans have been fighting other people’s wars since the beginning of time, almost. Even these Americans used our Hessians during their war of independence. I think it must be our destiny to be the world’s military reserve, to be called on when anyone needs us.”
Paul grunted. “Maybe we’re just too stupid to stay at home when the bullets start flying.” I grinned at him. “You’d prefer that, married to a fat Bavarian farmer’s daughter and rearing a brood of little Schusters?”
He shuddered. “A good point, Jurgen, the Viet Cong sound positively inviting compared to finishing up like that.” I laughed, about to make a reply when someone shouted from the back. “MIG coming in!”
The pilot must have been flying at low level, they hadn’t seen him until the last moment. His aircraft shot past us and climbed ready to make a banking turn in the sky. He may or may not have identified us as the stolen lorry but I didn’t intend discussing it. I saw a gap in the jungle and pointed it out to Paul, he swerved off the track just as a stream of cannon fire erupted on the part of the track we’d just left. As the MIG banked again for another attack run, we jumped out and scrambled to escape into the deep jungle.
I crouched behind a clump of trees as the MIG roared in again, this time the cannon fire riddled the lorry and it erupted into a ball of fire.
“That’s Cady’s funeral pyre taken care of,” Paul said grimly. I nodded. The MIG came around yet again and gunfire smashed into the jungle all around us, he couldn’t see us but was saturating the area with gunfire to try and hit some of us. Or contain us, of course, until the North Vietnamese army could reach us.
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bsp; “We need to go deeper in the jungle, he’ll have called for ground troops to surround us. Call...”
As I spoke there was a renewed burst of firing. A second MIG had arrived and came directly in for a strafing run as the first one circled overhead. Then a third one screamed in to attack and the jungle erupted once more all around us. I shouted for the men to regroup five hundred yards to the east and we crawled away. Behind us the MIGs were still searching, firing occasional bursts to remind us that they were still around. We didn’t get five hundred yards, after two hundred yards the jungle petered out and we were left standing on the edge of a deep ravine, the cliff top dropped several hundred feet to a swirling river below. A circling MIG spotted us and roared down into the attack, we jumped for cover as the cannon fire shredded the jungle over our heads. The river meandered sharply to the west and curved out of sight two or three hundred yards away from us, I realised there had to be a bridge for the track we had been following, it would of course be guarded. We were trapped in a pocket, the only direction we could go was back to the north, which was not an option.
We pulled back into the dense jungle. The MIGs had stopped shooting up the jungle, presumably to save their ammunition until they could see us. We were a miserable group, crouched under the jungle canopy out of sight of the MIGs.
“Any ideas, Jurgen?” Russo asked me. I shook my head. “It’s a tough one, we can’t go east or south, if we go west they’ll shoot us up on the track and if we go north we’ll run straight into an ambush party, they’ll have a regiment on the way already, we’ve stung them pretty badly.”
They all laughed. “That’s one way of putting it,” Jack Bond said. He looked at the sky. “Anyone know how long we have to go until dark?”
“About four hours, I think,” I replied. “They’ll be here before then.”
