One Man's War

by Lindsay McKenna

  He loved Tess. It was that simple. The discovery was frightening—exhilarating. Her goodness, her trust in her own heart and feelings had torn down any last vestiges of self-protection. As he tipped her head back and framed her face with his hands to share his heat, his own unspoken love for her, Pete felt a fear so numbing and terrifying that he could barely breathe. What could he do to combat the terrible sense of helplessness that stalked him?

  CHAPTER NINE

  “Captain Mallory! Captain Mallory!”

  Pete jerked up, hit his head on the hood of the jeep and cursed. He was working with a marine corporal, repairing one of the motor pool jeeps. If he could fix it, he could have it at his personal disposal because the gunny sergeant had already written off the cantankerous vehicle to the scrap heap. He’d scrounged the parts from the air force—in fact, he’d spent the last two weeks working on the beast.

  “Ouch, dammit.” He rubbed his scalp as he saw his gunner, Lance Corporal Randy York, galloping toward him, waving his arms above his head.

  Running up to Pete, the gunner was sobbing for breath. “Cap’n, you gotta come quick! Major Ramsey’s alerting the whole squadron. Miss Villard’s plantation is under attack!”

  Pete froze, his eyes narrowing on the straw-haired youth of twenty. “What?” The word came out strangled. Tess was over there helping Dany pack on this third and final moving day. His heart slammed against his ribs double time.

  “Yes, sir! We gotta wind up! The major says we need all the firepower we can muster. It’s a daytime attack by the VC!”

  Cursing under his breath, Pete grabbed a cloth and wiped his greasy hands as he sprinted out of the motor pool area, the lance corporal hot on his heels. With every stride he took, he thought of Tess—and Dany. They were women alone, unable to defend themselves.

  “What’s the VC throwing at them?” Pete shouted over his shoulder to his gunner.

  “Dunno, sir!”

  It could be mortars—or worse, rockets. And if Binh Duc had heavy machine guns, the helicopters could become targets, too. Ground fire from rifles aimed at them would be bad enough.

  “Is ordinance loaded on board our helo?” Pete wanted to know. They ran hard, surrounded by frantic activity at the landing apron.

  “Yes, sir! We’re fueled, armed and ready to go. Mr. Taylor is revving up the chopper right now. All we need is you!”

  Good. Pete was pleased with his new crew. They were not only responsible, but reliable in the heat of a crisis. His mind and heart revolved quickly back to Tess. He knew she was a Texas woman. She could shoot a pistol or rifle as well as any man. But never had Tess had to defend herself against the Vietnamese people she loved. Pete slowed just enough to leap up on the lip of the helicopter deck. That might be the deciding difference between the two women being killed and staying alive, Pete thought grimly—if only they could reach them in time.

  The Sikorsky shuddered as Pete manipulated the controls for takeoff power after he’d picked up a squad of marines. Ahead of him, in a line of six choppers, he saw Gib take off first. Then each helicopter in succession lifted into the humid late-morning sky cobbled with white clouds. Pete’s aircraft was the last to take off. The line of dark green helos churned steadily toward its target twelve miles southwest of the base.

  Pete’s mind raced with possibilities, emergency procedures, worry for his crew’s safety and, most of all, a frightening realization that Tess was down there under fire. He felt as if a part of him died because, as he craned his neck, squinting through the tinted visor toward the horizon, he could see a telltale column of dark smoke rising lazily into the pale blue sky. It had to be the plantation on fire.

  As they arrived on station at the Villard plantation, the groves of rubber trees—hundreds of acres in long, neat rows—were scattered with VC running toward the main house to capture the occupants inside. There was no time to think, only to react. Gib gave orders for the squadron to begin laying down a blanket of fire to force the VC back away from the house, which they now surrounded. It required precision flying. Gripping the controls, sweat running down his body in rivulets, Pete flew as he never had before. If his door gunner was sloppy, if he banked the helicopter a little too steeply, the stream of machine-gun fire would stitch right through the plantation house, perhaps wounding or killing the women inside. If they were inside. Pete had no idea where they were hiding.

  Time halted and froze to single frames of terrifying clarity for Pete. His helmet headphones were filled with orders, shouts and intercabin communications with his copilot and gunner. Ground fire was a blazing steel curtain thrown up at them, and to Pete’s horror, the VC had heavy machine guns to fire at the choppers.

  In a clear area a quarter mile away from the main house, the helicopters landed to disgorge the squads of marines. Pete heard his crew chief shout, “They’re out! They’re out!”

  Just as Pete lifted off the helicopter, the crew chief yelled, “I see the women, Mr. Mallory! They’re making a run for Mr. Kincaid’s chopper!”

  Bullets splattered across the nose of Pete’s Sikorsky, and he yanked back on the controls to get the bird out of range. He had no time to try and look below. Alive! The women were alive! But could they make it to Kincaid’s chopper without getting wounded or killed?

  Just as he banked the aircraft, Pete heard his copilot scream.

  “Major Ramsey! Oh, God, they just hit Ramsey’s bird!”

  Out of the corner of his eye, Pete saw fire erupt along the fuselage and envelope the nose of Gib’s helicopter. The bird jerked up, the machine-gun fire impacting heavily against the stricken craft. An explosion followed. Gib’s helicopter nosed over sickeningly, the blades flailing, reminding Pete of a bird trying to fly with a broken, useless wing.

  No! There was no time to cry, scream or feel. Wrenching his aircraft into a sharp, banking turn, Pete shouted, “Protect them when they’re down! Randy!”

  “Yes, sir!”

  For the next ten minutes, hell existed in Pete’s world. Ramsey’s helicopter crashed. Kincaid lifted off with the women safely aboard. If not for the rest of the marine helicopter squadron laying down a heavy sheet of firepower, the VC would have gotten the only survivor from the Ramsey helicopter as he dragged himself out of the burning bird. A medevac helicopter flew into the fray and rescued the crewman, heading directly back to Da Nang and the nearest MASH unit.

  Pete was assigned to remain on station by Captain Gerard, who had assumed command of the situation. The marine ground forces sent the VC scurrying back into the heavy brush, the last place Pete wanted to be.

  As they headed back to base an hour later, the pitched battle was won for now. Below, the Villard plantation was a blazing inferno. Pete’s mind spun with questions. How was Tess? Dany? And who had survived Ramsey’s crash? The questions ate at him, and he wanted to push the helicopter faster than it would go. Luckily, although his bird had taken its share of fire, his crew hadn’t been wounded.

  It was an hour before Pete landed at Marble Mountain after unloading the marines to their area. Unstrapping his harness, he quickly left the aircraft and ran to the headquarters tent to find out about the women and the survivor of Gib’s aircraft. He stood inside the stuffy, humid tent and used the phone on the desk of a sergeant to get hold of the Da Nang MASH unit.

  Breathing hard, Pete tried to steady himself. Sweat stung his eyes, and he blinked several times as he waited impatiently for the phone to connect to the MASH unit. The flight suit clung damply to his body, and Pete tried to take several deep breaths to steady his pounding heart. The sergeant at the desk gave him a sympathetic look and reluctantly returned to his stack of paperwork.

  Finally, a nurse from the unit came on the line.

  “Yeah, this is Captain Mallory from the marine squadron. Who did you just get in from that firefight at the Villard plantation?”

  “Major Ramsey, sir.”

  “What’s his condition?”

  “Critical.”

  “What?”r />
  “Yes, sir, he’s lost a foot and ankle. We’ve got him stabilized and he’s on his way right now by C-130 to Saigon for extensive surgery.”

  Shutting his eyes tightly, Pete leaned against the desk for support. “No…”

  “I’m sorry, sir.”

  His voice cracked. “What about Tess Ramsey and Dany Villard? Have you seen them? Are they wounded?” His heart was throbbing painfully at the base of his throat, and he feared the nurse’s answer.

  “Sir, they’ve both flown with Major Ramsey down to Saigon.”

  His eyes narrowed, his heart stopping momentarily. “They’re wounded?”

  “Miss Villard sustained a cut on her arm from flying glass. Miss Ramsey received many minor cuts from wood splinters, but that’s all. They both wanted to escort her brother down to Saigon. They didn’t want him to be left alone at a time like this.”

  “Yes, of course. Thanks, thanks a lot.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Pete hung up the phone and stared blackly at it for several moments. Tess had gone to Saigon to be with her brother. She was all right. Relief cascaded through him and he suddenly felt his knees go weak. Forcing himself to stand upright instead of leaning against the desk, he locked his trembling knees. His heart, his soul, wanted to be with Tess right now—and with Gib. He liked the man immensely, almost like a brother. The taste in Pete’s mouth was bitter as he walked stiffly out of the tent.

  First things first: he had to see the colonel. As he walked along the path to the next tent, Pete rubbed his brow. Right now, Tess needed him. She would have to be strong not only for her brother, but for Dany Villard, who loved Gib. Inwardly, Pete knew Tess wasn’t up to it. She’d been in country too long, seen too much, and had allowed all of it to impact her emotionally to a high degree.

  As he swung up the steps of the tent to talk to the colonel, Pete knew there was no way in hell he could leave the squadron right now. He was needed here. Most of the birds on the firefight had been badly shot up and needed massive repair work. There were other flights that would have to be flown almost immediately, and as much as Pete wanted to be with Tess, he knew it was impossible at the moment.

  “Damn war,” he hissed under his breath as he jerked the door open. At his earliest opportunity, if he had to move heaven and hell to do it, he was going to fly down and see Tess and Gib. How he was going to perform such a feat, Pete wasn’t sure. What he did know was that right now, Tess needed him more than she’d ever needed anyone in her life. And he wasn’t going to abandon her in her hour of need. No way…

  *

  Tess sat wearily on the plastic lounge chair. She felt grubby and dirty. She’d scarcely left the operations lounge area since Gib had arrived at the naval hospital in Saigon two days earlier. The waiting was the worst part. Her eyes smarted, and she rubbed them, realizing she needed to sleep. But sleep now came only in sporadic snatches. Since Gib had come out of recovery she’d been able to see him, once an hour, for five minutes. And Tess didn’t miss one of those opportunities to be with her brother. Thanks to Dr. Gail Froelich, Gib’s surgeon, Tess was kept informed. If it weren’t for the bubbly, tall naval officer—a human dynamo around the hospital—Tess was sure she’d be more of a wreck than she was. The doctor had a crisp efficiency about her, but compassion was always in her touch.

  Empty paper coffee cups sat on a table in front of the plastic couch where Tess tried to get comfortable. The lounge was empty, and she’d never felt more alone. Slowly, Tess moved and lay down, making the couch her bed. She placed her hands beneath her head as a makeshift pillow, confident that the nurses out at the station would come and wake her at the hour so she could see her brother.

  As she closed her lashes, Pete’s face hovered before her, as it always did. Tess had called Marble Mountain to try and get in touch with him, but he’d been out on another mission. At least she’d heard that he was safe. It was going to have to be enough. With a sigh, she surrendered to the darkness, to a world where she couldn’t feel the pain in her heart for her brother, or the anguish Dany had suffered. It seemed her whole world was coming unraveled at the seams right now, and Tess longed to see Pete. But she knew it was impossible. Impossible.

  *

  Pete jerked off his garrison cap as he stalked into the naval hospital in Saigon. He went directly to the information desk, discovered which floor Gib was on and took the nearest elevator. His mouth moved into a thin line to fight back all his rampant feelings and needs. He stepped off the elevator and stood outside the doors a moment to orient himself. The nurse’s station was to the left, the visitor’s lounge to the right. Where was Tess? Dany?

  Moving to the desk, Pete tagged the first nurse he found.

  “Excuse me, I’m looking for either Tess Ramsey or Dany Villard. Are either of them here?”

  The nurse smiled and pointed to the lounge. “Miss Ramsey’s here, Captain. Miss Villard has left.”

  Left? Pete opened his mouth to ask the question and then snapped it shut. “How’s Major Ramsey?”

  “Critical but stable.”

  “And his leg?”

  She shook her head sadly. “He lost his foot and ankle.”

  Dammit! Tears pricked Pete’s eyes and he blinked them away as he spun around on the heel of his flight boot. Tess was here.

  “Thanks,” he called over his shoulder to the nurse as he hurried toward the visitor’s lounge. Tess… God, how he loved her!

  At the door, Pete halted. He saw Tess lying on a couch, asleep, and his heart thudded powerfully in his chest. Her copper freckles were dark against her pale skin, her form almost in a fetal position of protection. His gaze moved rapidly across her face. Taking a shaky breath, Pete quietly moved forward. He saw many cuts on her forearms and several on her cheek and brow. What kind of hell had she endured in that firefight at the plantation? As he drew closer, he saw the darkness beneath her eyes, and her glorious red hair limp and in need of a brushing. The clothes Tess wore, a pair of dark green cotton slacks and a white blouse, dirtied and bloodied, testified eloquently to the trauma she’d experienced. Tess had had no one to hold her during that hellish time, and Pete knew she’d probably expended every bit of care on Gib and Dany, not herself.

  Crouching down, Pete gently caressed her mussed hair. Her lips were parted, and Pete knew she was in a deep sleep. One part of him knew he should allow her the badly needed rest. The other part, the part that loved her fiercely and with a blindness that frightened him, wanted to awaken her, hold her and let her know she was safe and hadn’t been abandoned after all.

  He continued to stroke her hair, and as he removed one thick strand from her cheek, he saw a large cut, sewn together with at least ten stitches. Shutting his eyes, Pete let his hand hover over her wound. He allowed the pain he felt to rush through him instead of ignoring it. Tess’s beautiful skin would be marred for life with this scar, this reminder of Vietnam and what the country did to people who stayed too long, who cared too much. It sapped good, caring people of their lifeblood without apology.

  The cut was swollen, but not infected. Leaning down, Pete gently pressed a kiss to her temple. Tess stirred, her lashes fluttering open. A soft smile pulled at the corners of his mouth as she slowly awakened. Her lashes barely lifted. Drowsy green eyes studied him dully for several moments before realization occurred.

  “Pete!” Tess whispered, and struggled into a sitting position.

  He straightened and brought Tess to her feet and into his arms. “Come here,” he rasped, his voice rough with emotion, “just let me hold you, Tess.”

  A broken cry escaped Tess as she stood and leaned heavily against Pete’s strong, tall frame. She felt his arms go around her and press her hard against him. Burying her face in the folds of his flight suit, she placed her arms around his waist.

  “Oh, Pete…”

  “Shh, I know, I know. It’s okay, Tess. Everything’s gonna be okay. Just lean on me. You’re tired….”

  Exhaustion lapped at Tess as nev
er before. Tears slipped from beneath her lashes. “You came,” she croaked, holding him as tightly as she could.

  “I wanted to be here,” he murmured, pressing small kisses on her hair. The words I love you wanted to be torn from him, but he was afraid to say them, even now. Pete felt Tess tremble, a fine shudder at first, and then he felt her convulse, a sob escaping. He held her tighter.

  “Go ahead, cry, honey. Cry for your brother. Cry for yourself.” He kept stroking her hair, whispering words of comfort. How long Pete stood holding Tess in the glare of the fluorescent lights, he didn’t know. He didn’t care. The woman he loved was in his arms, and that was as far as his world extended right now.

  Finally Tess grew quiet. Pete pulled away just enough to look down at her damp, ravaged features.

  “Look, you need some rest. Let me get you a hotel room and—”

  “I’ve got one at the Caravelle,” Tess said, her voice hoarse. She lifted her chin and drowned in the warmth of Pete’s blue gaze. He was so strong when she felt so weak. “Dany’s gone. She left last night. I tried to get her to stay, to understand that Gib wasn’t yelling at her…that he was in pain and coming out of anesthesia….”

  “Whoa, slow down, honey, you’re not making a whole lot of sense.” Pete sat down and pulled Tess into his arms. She lay against him, her head nestled in the crook of his shoulder. “Dany left?”

  “Y-yes. She went in to see Gib right after he came out of recovery, and he started yelling at her to leave.”

  Frowning, Pete rested his jaw against her hair. He gently stroked Tess’s shoulder and arm. “He was out of his head, then. Gib loves her.”