The Wrong Side of Honor

by Marshall Ginevan

  It was nearly 1:30 before they strapped the children in, taxied to the road, and took off. The storm on the border was slowly moving to the east. They again had to fly north to get around it. As soon as they crossed the Se Khong River, Eddie was on the radio to Hank advising him of the new target location and ordering the F-4’s to be armed with air-to-air missiles and join in the attack on Nha Dong Camp. The AC-130 was to be launched as well. He suggested the Jolly Green rescue helicopter and the OV-10 escorts get airborne, in case they were needed. Crews were immediately alerted. Their chance of success was good, since the Se Khong Air Field was weathered in for the next two hours.

  Hank called Jake at Udorn and briefed him. Looking over the reccy photos of the camp, Hank told Jake, “They’re sitting ducks as I see it. They’ve got a deep creek running between the camp and the road. Only one small bridge in a narrow valley. No visible AA or SAM’s.”

  “You can bet your sweet ass they’ve got plenty of SAM-7’s. Besides, how can we find our stuff among all their shit?” Jake complained, skeptical of the ease of the mission.

  “No problem, GI. We’ll hit it all.”

  “Holy shit, Hank. We can’t do that. Besides, what about MiG’s?”

  “Se Khong is weathered in. Big thunder boomer cell sitting right on top of them. Load up a couple of missiles in case you run into bad guys coming out and let’s do it. My guys can be there in just over thirty minutes.”

  “Hank, they’ll rip our ass.”

  “Well, fuck it, then. Sit on the ground. We’ll do it without your F-4’s. I’m gonna clean their plow before that weather moves in on the target.”

  “Shit!” Jake hissed, thinking about it for a few long seconds. “Ah, fuck it. I’m in, but let me swap out my loads first.”

  “Okay. It’s 1345 hours (1:45 p.m. local). Let’s do it at 1440 sharp.”

  “Rog. See you on top.”

  Hank called the Special Operations Command Post at NKP to immediately launch the Spectre gunship, the four OV-10’s, and the Jolly Green. The Wing Commander authorized the Spectre and the OV-10’s, but refused to launch Ubon’s helicopter unless it was needed for an air rescue mission.

  Hank and the four A-1E Skyraiders launched from Ubon just about 1:50 p.m. Jake and his four F-4’s launched from Udorn just after 2:15.

  At 2:40 Hank’s 0-2 Skymaster came over the west ridge into the valley and began marking targets with smoke rockets for Jake’s F-4’s. As Hank climbed out, the AC-130 gunship radioed, “We’ve got truck movement. They’re going for the bridge.”

  “Roger, Spectre. Can you catch ‘em on the bridge?”

  Spectre was flying north bound above the eastern ridge of the valley, watching Hank make his pass. “Affirmative. You can clear Pinto if he stays above 1,000 while I’m firing.”

  “Okay. Pinto, your cleared to 1,000. Spectre will be hitting the bridge as you roll in.”

  “Pinto, roger.”

  “Two.” “Three.” “Four,” his flight replied.

  “Pinto Lead, going in,” Jake radioed, then rolled over on the target.

  Two trucks started across the small wooden bridge. The first truck reached the end of the bridge when a finger of fire reached out of the sky from the AC-130’s three mini-guns and burned its way through the two trucks. Both trucks immediately turned into a ball of fire as 15,000 rounds per minute chewed them to pieces. The wooden bridge splintered and in seconds the burning wrecks fell through the bridge into the creek.

  Seconds after the fingers of fire disappeared from the sky, a rain of bomblets fell over the truck park, turning it into an inferno of exploding munitions and fuel.

  As Jake climbed to altitude, white vapor trails streaking from his wing tips, Hank cleared the second F-4 onto the target and directed him to the trucks to the right of where Jake had hit. His bomblets rained down on the remainder of the trucks, extending the inferno over into a munitions storage area. There were a series of large secondary explosions.

  The AC-130 called to Hank, “You’re getting some small arms fire from up the ridge. I’ll hit that area as I come around.”

  “Roger, Spectre. Pinto Three and Four, hold for Spectre to orbit around to the north end of the valley. He’s hosing some small arms fire,” Hank directed.

  The AC-130 banked around, firing on the small arms positions as he circled to the west side of the valley. As he cleared the target and crossed over the west ridge, Hank rolled in with purple smoke rockets to mark targets for the two remaining F-4’s.

  Hank cleared both F-4’s in together on the marked targets. As the bomblets spread over the target area there were a considerable number of secondary explosions seen.

  The F-4’s then formed up to the north to fly a MiG-CAP, watching for MiG’s that may try to take off from the Se Khong Air Field as the thunderstorm cell moved slowly east.

  That thunderstorm was moving in on them and the air was getting rough. Hank called in the A-1E Skyraiders to hit the personnel areas to the south of the truck park and “whatever-it-is under those trees to the north.”

  The first two Skyraiders dropped into the valley and released their napalm just as the second two were making their approach. Above them the AC-130 was turning back to the east side of the valley.

  “Extend out, Raiders. Spectre is above you,” Hank warned.

  “We’ve got him in sight.”

  The first napalm burst on the personnel area, then the second napalm burst on the fuel storage area. The second napalm attack ignited a large petroleum storage area and sent several large fireballs and a column of thick black smoke into the air.

  “We hit the big one, guys. All birds RTB. All birds RTB,” Hank radioed, ordering all aircraft to return to base.

  The OV-10 crews were little more than spectators to the carnage below as all the aircraft headed west for the Thai border. The attack lasted less than five minutes and no aircraft were hit. The Nha Dong Camp appeared to be largely destroyed.

  UBON RTAFB

  Hank walked into the Projects Office with a big grin on his face. “I love air power,” he said.

  “I take it your mission was a complete success,” Eddie said, grinning from ear to ear.

  “Boy, you should have stuck around for the show. I was stacking Phantoms on top of Specters and running two two-bird attacks at once. This went down so fast they didn’t even have time to squeeze off anything more than a few sporadic small arms rounds, then we were gone.”

  “How was the weather?”

  “We got in just ahead of it. The rains were no more than ten minutes behind us.”

  “Hey, guys,” Teresa said, waving her hand in the air to interrupt them. “I don’t mean to burst any bubbles on the elation, but how do you plan on getting away with wiping out an NVA supply base in violation of the bombing ban?”

  Hank and Eddie looked at each other, then looked at Teresa.

  “Is she serious?” Hank asked.

  “There’s one in every crowd, Hank.”

  “Well?” she persisted.

  “Ah, let’s see,” Eddie started, rubbing his head.

  “It’s just what the President ordered,” Hank said.

  “The President did not authorize an air attack on the NVA supply bases,” Teresa protested, like a parent lecturing a child.

  “What NVA supply base? We hit a drug shipment. The fire must have spread due to some small amount of collateral damage. Bombing in these old Thai aircraft is not an exact science, you know,” Hank explained.

  “Hank, that story is going to get you put in jail.”

  “Don’t sweat the little stuff,” he said. “Hey, five o’clock sharp at the Club, I’m buying. Damn, I feel great.”

  “If he’s springing for a meal, it must have been better than sex.”

  “Well, if you’d like, we could run a comparison test tonight.”


  “Pass. Supper is fine, sport,” she said, declining his proposition.

  UBON RTAFB

  22 March 1975

  Mack Klevenger received information that the 5,000 rounds of .38 caliber ammunition that had been stolen from the flight line while waiting to be shipment out had been located in Vietnamese Village. Mack briefed Eddie and took a team of security policemen into the Village in the early morning hours. They slipped a cobra snake into the small building and it attacked the three Vietnamese guards. As the guards fled out the door they stripped on a wire and fell into the cold Mun River. The ammo was then dumped into the river and the Mack and his policemen slipped back to the base. Two of the three guards drowned in the river.

  The Vietnamese nurse, who had escaped from the hospital downtown, examined the guards. She swore that the CIA would pay with their lives for the deaths of the two NVA soldiers.

  DOWNTOWN UBON

  After dinner at the Club with Hank and Teresa, Eddie left Teresa with Hank and took a taxi to the hospital down town. He met Dr. Pinchon at the second-floor lounge at 6:30 p.m.

  “Sa wat dee, Dr. Pinchon. Koon sa by dee,” Eddie said politely.

  “Sa by dee, Ka,” she answered with a smile and bowed slightly.

  “Have you had a busy day?”

  “No. It was my day off, but I came in to help Dr. Li with the children.”

  “How are they?”

  “Two have an intestinal track disorder. We put them on antibiotics. A few days of rest and good food, they will be fine.”

  “Good. I’m glad to hear that.”

  “We can go to the children’s ward, now. The van will be here in a few minutes.”

  At 6:50 Eddie and Dr. Pinchon carried the children to the van. As they walked out the door Eddie noticed two Vietnamese women talking to a taxi driver. When they drove off in the van the women were getting into the taxi.

  “Do you know them?” Dr. Pinchon asked when she noticed him looking at the women.

  “No,” he said. “Do you?”

  “No. They are not from the hospital.”

  “Strange place for prostitutes to be doing business.”

  She looked at Eddie and laughed.

  The children at the orphanage were happy to see another GI visit them. Although he brought no presents for them, they were anxious to practice their English conversation with an American. Miss Aroonsi quickly took charge of the new children and left Eddie alone with the other children.

  “Where is Mr. Ray?” little Chip-Chang asked. “We miss him.”

  “Mr. Ray had to go away for a few days, but I think he will come to visit you again very soon.”

  “Did you see Mr. Ray?”

  “Yes. And he misses all the children here. He wants to come back and see you. When I see him again I’ll tell him to hurry back.”

  That seemed to make them happy.

  Just before 8:00 Dr. Pinchon told the children that she and Eddie had to leave.

  “Will you come to see us again, Mr. Eddie?” Lockinaw asked.

  “I will certainly try. Maybe I can even have a special surprise for you. But I will have to talk to Miss Aroonsi first.”

  “Will you bring Mr. Ray?” a little boy asked.

  “Yes, I will bring Mr. Ray, too. Good night everyone.”

  “Good night, Mr. Eddie,” they all shouted as Eddie and Dr. Pinchon walked out to the waiting taxi.

  While walking to the taxi, Dr. Pinchon asked Eddie, “Do you have time to stop at a restaurant?”

  “Yes, I have time. But I’m afraid I’m not very hungry. I ate just before I left the base.”

  “It is not necessary to be very hungry. Have you eaten Vietnamese food before?”

  “No, I can’t say that I have.”

  “There is a nice little Vietnamese restaurant that GI’s do not know about. I want to show you some Vietnamese food. Vietnamese food has more vegetables then Thai food. And Mr. Ngo is a very good cook.”

  “It sounds very nice. Thank you.”

  Dr. Pinchon told the taxi driver where they were going. As he drove them to the restaurant the driver kept looking at Eddie in the rearview mirror. The looks did not go unnoticed by Eddie. When they pulled up at the front door of the little restaurant, Eddie paid the driver, then made a written note of the taxi number as it pulled away.

  “Is there something wrong, Mr. Eddie?”

  “I think that’s the same taxi I saw at the hospital, but I was watching the two women. Now he’s watching me.” Eddie shrugged and smiled. “I’m just naturally suspicious of people.”

  The Vietnamese restaurant was very small. It had only twelve tables set on a concrete floor. There was a small bar along one wall with photographs and paintings on the back wall. Two ceiling fans turned the warm damp air and circulated the smell of fish and spices.

  Mr. Ngo came out and greeted Dr. Pinchon warmly. She made introductions in both Vietnamese and English, since Mr. Ngo spoke no English. He was honored to have Eddie come to his small restaurant.

  Seated in the corner was another couple, who Mr. Ngo quickly introduced them to. Jon Monet was a Canadian missionary who had fled the Central Highlands of Viet Nam a few weeks earlier. The Communist advances had closed the mission field there, he explained. His Vietnamese wife, who he had met while she was in nursing school in Toronto, he said, also worked as a missionary with him. They were waiting in Ubon for their home mission board to decide where they would go next.

  After several minutes of polite conversation, Mr. Ngo seated them at their table and brought them a pot of hot tea. He then returned to the back to fix a meal for them.

  In conversation Dr. Pinchon told Eddie, “I think that maybe you see Vietnamese people as enemy people. But here Vietnamese people are neighbors. Some are bad. Most are good.”

  “The Communists are our enemy, not the people.”

  “I do not know if Mr. Ngo is a Communist. He has been in Thailand for many years and has most of his family here. I want you to meet him so you can see that Vietnamese people are good, too. He brings food to the children at the orphanage. GI’s bring food, clothes, toys, and money. And you and Mr. Ray fly to help the children who need medical supplies and a doctor.”

  “Do the Communists help the children at the orphanage? Do they help you at the hospital?”

  “We do not know who they are sometimes. But they help in Laos and Cambodia.”

  “Yes. I’ve seen that they do help over there.”

  Dr. Pinchon took Eddie to the back wall to look at the pictures and explain them. She then took Eddie to the back so he could watch Mr. Ngo prepare the food. They talked pleasantly about the food, with Dr. Pinchon translating for the men.

  Two Vietnamese men walked out of the dark alley, crossed the nearly deserted street, and stepped up next to the door of Ngo’s restaurant. Their all black clothing made them nearly invisible on the dimly lit street. They looked inside and saw only one couple seated in the far corner. They looked at each other and nodded. Each pulled an AK-47 from under his coat and stepped through the front door.

  Mrs. Monet stared at the two men as they walked in. She thought it was strange that they would carry weapons into the restaurant. When they raised the rifle barrels and pointed them at her and her husband, her eyes widened in horror. Her husband had his back to the door, but when he saw the expression on her face he turned. Before she was half out of her chair the first rounds smashed through her chest and through the wall behind her. Mr. Monet never saw the men that poured thirty 7.62-mm rounds into him and his wife while they sat quietly eating their dinner.

  The sound of automatic weapons fire in the front of the restaurant caused Eddie to dive onto the floor, knocking Dr. Pinchon to the floor with him. With the rounds tearing through the wall a few feet from them, breaking jars and splintering wood, Eddie frantically dug under his safa
ri shirt to pull his little revolver.

  Within seconds the firing was over. Though his ears were ringing, he thought he could hear the sounds of magazines being replaced in the AK-47’s. He was sure they were AK-47’s by their unique sound. His next thought was that they were going to come to the back after the rest of them. With no apparent rear exit, he would have to face them.

  Eddie ducked out the door and crouched against the end of the bar. He had to switch hands on the weapon to take up a left-hand barricade firing position. His breathing was heavy and his hands shook so badly that he nearly dropped the weapon. His heart felt like it was going to push through his shirt. He was afraid, but so far had not panicked.

  He quickly looked around the corner of the bar at the front door and saw two dark figures step out onto the sidewalk. He immediately fired five rounds out the door at them, then spun around and sat on the floor with his back to the end of the bar. He managed to dump the spent shell casings from his weapon when the fusillade of AK rounds ripped into the bar, ricocheted off the floor next to him, and splintered the wooden wall behind the end of the bar. He grabbed two .38 rounds from his belt, but dropped one before he could get it into the cylinder. He was still trying to pull more rounds from his belt when the firing stopped. Oh! No. Here they come, he said to himself. He was fighting down panic as he frantically struggled to reload the little revolver with his trembling hands. It seemed to take minutes to get the five rounds into the weapon.

  He again took up a left-hand barricade firing position and peeked around the corner of the bar, but saw only blackness outside the door. His ears were still ringing and his heart was still trying to push out of his chest. He slowly looked around the dining room and saw the crumpled, bloody bodies of the missionaries. She had fallen to the floor, but he was still seated in his chair with what remained of his head resting on the table.

  The sight of the bodies and the splatter of blood angered Eddie. He stepped from the end of the bar and walked out into the street, looking round. Some children in a doorway across the street pointed toward the alley. Eddie trotted across the street and peeked around the corner. The alley looked like a black tunnel. He hesitated, thought about what an AK-47 could do and what he was carrying, and then turned and walked back into the restaurant.