by Eric Meyer
“You’re sure about that?” Abe Woltz said. “Isn’t it what you would do?” He shrugged. “I guess so. How far to the DMZ?”
“Maybe fifteen, twenty miles. I think the best move for us is to head south for the bridge, it can’t be far away. At least we can see what we’re facing there. Who knows, it might be possible to get across if it isn’t too heavily guarded and if it’s not too visible from the air.”
“And if the MIGs don’t see us,” Bond added unhappily. No one replied, everything depended on the Viets not getting a battalion to the bridge before we crossed it, assuming that there was a bridge and it was even still standing.
We crept through the jungle, careful to keep under the overhanging canopy. It took us half an hour before we came back to the edge of the foliage. The river was in front of us, curving around as I’d thought. At this point it was about fifty yards wide, not a huge distance and it was spanned by a rickety looking wooden bridge. We could see four guards the other side, they had a Degtyarev light machine gun set up pointing towards the track that they expected us to travel along. Woltz came up to me.
“I can take them, Jurgen, at this range it shouldn’t be too much of a problem.” I looked at the other men. “What do you think? If Abe takes out the guards we’d have to rush straight over the bridge, if the MIGs see what we’re doing they’ll be waiting for us so it would have to be straight away.”
We got as close to the edge of the jungle as possible and crouched in our jumping off point. Abe had positioned himself with a good field of fire, he was as confident as he could be of taking out all four of the enemy.
“I’m ready,” he said, “just say the word.” I looked up at the sky, there was a MIG near enough to spot what we were doing. “Nearly there, hold tight, Abe.” I jerked around at the sound of an engine coming from the other side of the river. A ZIL was slowing to a stop by the bridge and as we watched, an officer climbed down and spoke sharply to the guards. He shouted and waved at the MIGs, at the track that led north from where we had come and then swept his arm over the expanse of jungle that hid us. His meaning was obvious. He inspected the Degtyarev, barked some orders at the soldiers and they unloaded six small wooden cases from the vehicle. Then he mounted the lorry and it drove across the bridge.
We almost held our breath, praying that it would pass our position and our prayers were answered as it continued up the track and we heard the sound of its engine receding into the background. Their intention was clear, they were to be the beaters that drove their quarry, us, down onto the machine gun waiting at the bridge. It was a simple plan but it could be effective. The problem we faced was that when the MIGs noticed their guards shot up on the bridge, they’d call the troops in the lorry back to pursue us and they’d run us down like dogs.
We slumped down again, the obstacles were getting worse and worse.
“We could set fire to the bridge,” I said absently. “Christ, you never give up, do you Jurgen?” Joe Russo said. “Give up? Why would I do that?”
“Jurgen, admit it, we’re fucked. Totally fucked. What’s the alternative?”
I looked at the others, all except Paul were hanging on my every word. I felt angry, what the hell was the matter with these supposed elite troops. I tried to imagine them in the snows of the Eastern Front, fending off countless Soviet attacks, counter-attacking to regain lost ground. Did they think this was some kind of game, to be played until the other side appeared to have gained the upper hand then tamely surrender, hoping for a warm bed and hot food in a prison camp?
“If that’s the way you think, that’s your choice. But I strongly suggest you consider shooting yourselves in the head first, it’ll save them the trouble of doing it afterwards. Don’t you realise, they’re going to kill us all? These people are savages, we’ve hurt them badly, not just militarily but their pride, the invincible People’s Army of North Vietnam. There’s only one way they can get that reputation back, it’s time you men understood that. They want us dead.”
They were shaken by my words, but they heard the truth in them. We had to escape or die, there was no third option. We made plans to rush across the bridge as soon as Abe shot the guards. Once across, we’d try to set fire to it, but it seemed unlikely under the noses of the MIGs. Either way, we could dive into the jungle and set a course to the DMZ, away from the direct line of travel that they would be watching. Bond watched the track to see if the motorised infantry returned. Abe sighted on the guards once again. I opened my mouth to give him the order and another flight of fighter jets flew across. They disappeared out of sight and I shouted the order to go. Shots cracked out of the sniper rifle and we were up and running. Ahead of us I could see the guards were all down, crumpled into heaps on the ground. We hit the start of the bridge and ran onto the first wooden section. Then the roaring sound came back, the sound I’d hoped and prayed we could avoid with good timing and a little bit of good luck. Whatever else, our luck had run out as a stream of cannon shells sprayed the woodwork.
*****
Should I become President...I will not risk American lives...by permitting any other nation to drag us into the wrong war at the wrong place at the wrong time through an unwise commitment that is unwise militarily, unnecessary to our security and unsupported by our allies.
John F. Kennedy
MACV Main Headquarters, 137 Pasteur Street, Saigon
Major General Victor H. Krulak, the special assistant for counterinsurgency for the Joint Chiefs of Staff, looked around the smoky room with distaste. He noted that the sole Vietnamese present, Madame Nhu, President Diem’s sister in law, was smoking cigarette after cigarette, indicating how nervous she felt. That was surprising, the Dragon Lady normally exuded confidence. Madame Nhu's brother-in-law, Diem had been appointed Prime Minister of Vietnam by her mother's distant cousin, Emperor Bao Dai after the French had been defeated at the Battle of Dien Bien Phu. When French Indochina was dissolved Diem was left in control of South Vietnam and became President. She was regarded as the First Lady of South Vietnam, her mother, a former beauty queen, was South Vietnam's observer at the United Nations and two of her uncles were cabinet ministers. Some said that Diem and Nhu would have invented the word nepotism if it hadn't been invented.
So why was she so nervous? Certainly not with the company present. Colonel Ted Serong, a guerrilla warfare expert who headed the Australian training mission in South Vietnam, General Harkins, the supreme commander in Vietnam and American Ambassador Nolting were all giving optimistic reports about the conduct of the war. If they were to be believed, they were winning. It certainly wasn’t a clear picture, but CIA led actions that included organising the Montagnards into fighting units had done well. The Australian Colonel Serong had reported that “the big success story in Vietnam was the strategic hamlet program and this story has not yet been fully told.”
It was clear for everyone to see that offensive operations against the Viet Cong were widespread and were growing steadily in intensity. True, the communists were infiltrating men into the South at an alarming rate, CIA estimated over five hundred a month, although Krulak had seen intelligence that put the figure higher, much higher. Some said that the monthly infiltration average was closer to fifteen hundred men. Chinese heavy weapons, including recoilless rifles and .50 calibre machine guns, were popping up throughout the country. Some of this ordnance had been carried overland through Laos, while other weaponry had been moved either by sea or other routes to South Vietnam through Cambodia.
So it was a mixed picture, but not one to be especially concerned about. Even the ARVN, shocked after the disastrous action at Ap Bac, were regrouping and beginning to show a more aggressive fighting posture that was showing results. No, there was something else. Diem, her brother-in-law, of course. A Catholic, there’d been a great deal of publicity describing how Diem’s brutal treatment of the majority Buddhist population had caused the latest outrage. Quang Duc, a seventy three year old Buddhist monk had set fire to himself in the street by
the Xa Loi pagoda. The newsmen alerted by the Buddhists covered the event in lurid detail, sending reports and film of the suicide for the world to see. Many of the Vietnamese military were Buddhist, in fact the overwhelming majority, in spite of Diem appointing Catholics to the most senior positions. If Diem fell, of course Madame Nhu, the Dragon Lady, would fall with him. Ambassador Nolting was on record as being vigorously opposed to the Americans becoming involved in any plot to oust the South Vietnamese leadership, including Madame Nhu and her husband Ngo Dinh Nhu. The Dragon Lady would know this through her spies. He shrugged mentally, it was an internal matter and they’d have to resolve it themselves. Krulak just prayed that they weren’t aware of how enthusastic some of the Washington people were for a change at the top in South Vietnam.
“Colonel Serong,” Madame Nhu said abruptly, “you have reported that the Strategic Hamlets plan now numbers a total of three thousand five hundred villages, is that correct?”
He nodded his head. “It certainly is, Madame. A very successful programme that has denied the enemy access to food and supplies.”
“Good. Things have changed, Colonel. My brother-in-law, the President of South Vietnam, now requires the strategic and military emphasis to be switched to internal security. There is no point in defending our country against the communists when the real enemy is already here.”
“You mean the Buddhists?” General Krulak asked her.
“That is correct. Their demonstrations are becoming dangerous and rock the very stability that we are fighting for.”
And of course, they were not Catholic, Krulak thought. President Diem had effectively raped the population of Buddhists to distribute the plum jobs and plantations to his Catholic cronies. No wonder the Buddhists were up in arms. He sighed.
“Madame Nhu, to shift resources away from the Strategic Hamlets Program now would be a disaster. You mention that over three thousand of these hamlets are in existence, well, that’s true. But my staff reports that barely six hundred are in fact fully operational. The rest balance on a knife edge until they are fully established.”
“Fuck the hamlets, General, my brother-in-law wants measures taken to control the Buddhists. Maybe you can put them in hamlets and surround them with barbed wire.”
Her eyes were blazing, her voice slashed across the calm of the room, the atmosphere had changed to one of crackling tension. No wonder she was nicknamed the Dragon Lady, Krulak reflected.
“Madame, what you describe is concentration camps, I hardly believe the President wants…”
“I’ll tell you what the President wants, General. He wants these heathen priests, these bonzes stopped. If that means putting them all in concentration camps I don’t care.”
The men in the room looked at each other, embarrassed by her outburst.
“Madame Nhu,” General Harkins interceded, “we are fighting the communists from the North, if we dilute our forces to support the President’s internal struggles, we’ll have no chance of beating the communists. Can President Diem not make some kind of peace with the Buddhists?”
“Peace with those heathens, is that what you are suggesting? Perhaps they are working with the communists, we should treat them all the same, fight them as one enemy.”
Ambassador Nolting leaned forward. “The Buddhist populist population of South Vietnam constitutes the majority of your people, Madame. Surely it is unrealistic to expect to be able to contain them all. There really does have to be some kind of dialogue with them,” he said.
“Dialogue? I’ll give them dialogue, we need to send troops into the monasteries and kill some of these traitors who undermine the lawful authorities. They don’t need dialogue, they need the leaders to be taken out and shot. Kill them, kill them all!”
She’d totally lost control, flecks of spittle came out of her beautiful mouth. The door flew open and one of her bodyguards rushed into the room, his hand drawing his weapon. She looked up.
“Get out, get out, you fool. If you want to shoot someone, go find some fucking Buddhist priests.”
She stood up. “The Buddhists, they must be dealt with. Perhaps you can send some of your precious bomber aircraft to destroy their monasteries.”
“Madame, I hardly think,” Nolting said placatingly. But she slashed him down.
“I don’t care what you think, Ambassador. The President is threatened, these people should be killed. Kill them!” she shouted as she stormed out. They looked at each other, there was little to add to her tirade.
“Well I guess that screws our South East Asia program,” Colonel Serong muttered. He got up and left.
General Krulak turned to Harkins. “General, any news of our people in the North? Washington is interested in the progress of your rescue mission.”
Harkins winced. It was now ‘his’ rescue mission. Well, that was the way Washington worked. He shook his head.
“Nothing concrete, I’m afraid. Their aircraft was destroyed on the ground, we’ve had some intelligence that suggests they escaped from Hanoi and were making their way south, but the communists know they’re there, of course. I guess it’s just a matter of time.”
“So you don’t hold out any hope?”
Harkins smiled. “There’s always hope, who knows, maybe they’ll pull it off. But no, I’m not optimistic.”
“No chance of sending them any help?”
“Does Washington specifically want me to invade North Vietnam, then?”
Ambassador Nolting looked up sharply. “What, what was that? Did you say what I thought you said?”
Both generals laughed.
“Don’t panic, Ambassador,” Harkins said, “we’ve got enough problems in South Vietnam. No, I think the Nhu’s want us to widen our war here to include the Buddhist population.”
As they walked out, Krulak spoke quietly to Harkins. “I need an answer for Washington, General Harkins, about that rescue mission.”
Harkins thought for a moment. “You can tell them that if they’re not already dead, they’re probably back in custody. Personally, I would think they’re dead. Once the Viets destroyed their aircraft, they were finished. Sorry, General Krulak, but that’s the truth. They only ever had a slight chance, and that chance has gone.”
Krulak nodded and they went out.
* * * * *
Chapter Eight
In the long history of the world, only a few generations have been granted the role of defending freedom in its hour of maximum danger. I do not shrink from this responsibility - I welcome it.
John F. Kennedy
“Keep running, faster!” I shouted at them.
But they could see the shells taking huge splinters out of the woodwork, and hear the noise of the three MIG 17s, their Klimov VK-1 engines roaring as they screamed out of their dive ready to turn and bank for a second pass. So far not one of us had been hit, but it was only a matter of time. They’d have time for at least one more pass before we got into cover and their formidable array of cannon would shred us, it was only because we had caught them unawares that they had missed on the first pass. There was the sound of more jet engines and we knew then that it was the end of the road. The thunder of the jet engines mixed with the whoosh of multiple missile launches, yet no missiles hit the bridge. I looked up to see the most wonderful sight I’d ever seen, a flight of four F-102 Delta Daggers, pouring missiles down onto the MIGs. Two were hit immediately and went down trailing smoke and flames. They hit the jungle almost side by side and there had been no ejections, just a pall of black smoke to mark their funeral pyre. The third MIG switched on his afterburners and rocketed north, pursued by two of the F-102s. Then there was an explosion less than five miles away and another plume of black smoke soared over the jungle canopy.
We were so stunned by our miraculous escape that we stood, mouths open, looking up at the sky. Then I remembered the troops that were coming up behind us.
“Run, get across the bridge and under cover, they’ll be along any second,” I shouted.
<
br /> We ran off the end of the bridge, skirting the bodies of the machine gun crew and took cover in the jungle to the side of the track. Overhead the F-102s came back, circled for a few moments and roared off, the leader waggled his wings and the back marker did a three hundred and sixty degree roll that I was certain would get him grounded if the flight leader had seen it. Maybe not, fighter pilots were notorious show-offs. But every one of us would gladly have stood their drinks’ bills for the next month. I only wished we could have communicated with them, one well aimed missile would have totally destroyed the bridge. With the bridge left standing the enemy would be after us in minutes and they had a vehicle whilst we were on foot.
Paul was checking our map. “The jungle looks bad, Jurgen, it’s thick foliage, it’ll take us forever to hack through. The track would be faster.”
“Faster for them too and they’ve got the Zil.”
A shout from Joe Russo distracted us. “Hey, take a look at this.” He was standing next to the boxes we’d seen unloaded from the lorry. We went over and looked at the one he’d opened. Hand grenades, Soviet made, twenty of them. If the other boxes held the same, and it looked as if they did, we had a hundred and twenty small bombs.
“Can you do anything with those on the bridge, Joe?”
“You betcha ass, Jurgen. When those Viets come back they’ll be in for a shock.”
“Why not blow it when they’re on the bridge?” Paul asked. We looked at him, of course, it was the obvious answer. If they were all dead, blown into the river below, there’d be no one to report that we were still at liberty, it could buy us a little time.
“If it doesn’t work we’ll be sitting ducks, Joe,” I said to him.
He grinned. “It’ll work, I’ve done it a few times before.”
