“I don’t know. There’s the partying type and the marrying type. And she’s definitely the marrying type.”
“Told her about the wife you already have?”
Eddie ran his hands over his face and gave her a serious look. “No, not yet. Have you?”
“Not me,” Teresa said, holding her hands up defensively. “Marriage is hard enough on love. No use killing it before you tie the knot.”
“Thanks. I’ll bet you kept a lot of girls in the convent while you were there.”
“Did my part for the cause,” she said and then went back to writing on her report.
Eddie shook his head and dug into the pile of reports in his in-basket. He was facing over a week’s work to summarize.
UBON PROJECTS OFFICE
15 April 1975
For the past several days the Projects Office had been receiving reports of a Khmer roundup in Cambodia. The unconfirmed reports, taken as a whole, painted a picture of indiscriminate internments and executions. As the hours and days continued, it was clear that Cambodia - now called Kampuchea - was turning into a killing field. Evidence of the mass murder of the population, particularly the educated, came across the desks of the Project Office from spy planes flying over Phnom Penh. Field reports filled in the blanks left by the aerial photos. Eddie and the others were putting in long hours sifting through the mountain of reports.
At 4:00 a.m. Hank Renwick walked into the Projects Office and set a cold can of Mountain Dew down in front of a bleary-eyed Eddie Donevant.
“You’re out late, Hank. What’s going on out there?”
“Just received a radio message from John Slaughter. It’s the good news and the bad news.”
“Tell me the good news. Everything I’ve heard today has been bad.”
“Well, the good news is that they talked to the Khmer Rouge, and they have agreed to stop the flow of opium through their country. They’re calling it Kampuchea now, you know.”
“No more dope down the Mekong?”
“No more anywhere in Cambodia. And,” he added with a big grin, “they are holding those two assholes who used to occupy this office. Plan to execute them, in fact.”
“Well, sounds like there’s some good in even the Khmer. What’s the bad news?”
“John says that he is their prisoner now, too, and expects to be executed as well.”
“Wait a minute. If he’s a prisoner of the Khmer, how’s he getting radio messages out?”
“I don’t know, but there’re three of them in the camp, plus the two CIA guys. Want to go with me to get them?”
Eddie looked at Hank for a second and said, “You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“Serious as sin. That’s even more serious than a heart attack.”
“I thought so. Did you receive a copy of this message?”
Eddie handed Hank a classified message.
Hank read it, shrugged, and said, “So what?”
“Orders from the President himself. The only birds allowed across the border are blackbirds. That means SR-71’s and U-2’s. And we don’t have access to either.”
“You vote for Ford?”
“Vote? No. Ford wasn’t elected president. He was appointed.”
“So what?”
“What do you mean, ‘so what?’ He’s still the President.”
“So fuck’en what? John Slaughter is being held prisoner by the Communists, and I’m going after him. You going with me or what?”
Eddie put the message back in the file cabinet and began collecting up papers.
“Well, you going with me or what?” Hank pressed.
“Hank, if we go to jail over this, I’m going to beat you senseless every mealtime with my metal tray and tin cup.”
CHAPTER NINE
NORTHERN MEKONG RIVER
NORTHERN CAMBODIA
20 April 1975
At 6:15 a.m. radar station UB-15 tracked two unidentified aircraft from Ubon south along the Mekong River. As the aircraft approached the Cambodian border they were asked to identify themselves. When they failed to do so, two Thai Air Force F-5 Freedom Fighters were vectored to intercept and identify the aircraft. A single high speed pass identified the pair as a U-10 Courier and an O-2 Skymaster. No specific markings could be seen as the pair crossed the border. Ten minutes later, UB-15 was informed that the U-10 was a CIA aircraft and that Colonel Suwit was to be notified as soon as they crossed back into Thai airspace.
Seven minutes after they crossed into Cambodia, Eddie keyed his mic. “Grandpa, any word from Jethro?”
“He’s on the line now. Standby,” Hank radioed back.
Two minutes later Hank’s voice came back. “Sonny, we’ve get a problem. Jethro says one of the family is in the wood shed. I’ve got to burn it down. Pick up two plus two at the outhouse.”
“Two plus two at the outhouse,” Eddie acknowledged.
Eddie’s stomach was knotting up with fear and his sweaty hands shook at what he was about to do. The Khmer were torturing one of the drug agents and John Slaughter ordered Hank to destroy the building with rockets. Eddie had to land in the village during Hank’s rocket attack and pick up John and the other drug agent, plus the two former CIA men. Eddie had no idea what the village looked like or what kind of fire power he would be facing on the ground. He fought back the urge to turn the plane around and fly back north. “Please, Lord, don’t let me throw up,” he kept praying.
“Village in sight, Sonny,” Hank radioed. “Off the river, tight left, landing should be at about one-four-zero degrees. You’ve got an easy twelve hundred feet.”
“Roger,” Eddie acknowledged. “Easy for you, pal. You’re not going in there for a house call,” he muttered to himself.
A few seconds later the village appeared off to Eddie’s left. He pulled the nose up and banked sharply. His airspeed bled off as he rolled the nose out on the clearing between the rows of shacks. He suddenly noticed how calm he was as he quickly prepared to set the plane down between the rows of shacks. There were only a few small children playing near a fire in the center of the village.
Eddie passed over a hut by less than twelve feet at less than five knots above stall speed. The main wheels hit the dirt hard, bounced once, and then settled firmly on the ground. He pulled right to miss the campfire as he looked for which building held John and the others. The children posed no danger.
Suddenly the building ahead of him to his left exploded. Hank’s rockets found their mark. Eddie was just about stopped when he saw Foster and Peterson run from a hut about a hundred feet ahead of him. “Come on, John,” Eddie yelled as his head twisted around, searching.
Seconds passed like hours until Eddie saw John and another man run from the side of a hut just next to his wingtip. He jammed the left brake and spun around in a 180 degree turn. The plane was still slowly rolling when John jerked the door open and scrambled in. The other man was half in when he yelled, “Burt! Burt!” and ran off toward the destroyed building.
Eddie jammed on the brakes and yelled, “What’s he doing?”
John stuck his head out the door and then yelled back to Eddie, “Burt’s alive. We’ve got to get him.”
Before Eddie could protest, John jumped out and ran back toward the destroyed building.
“I don’t need this,” Eddie screamed in the empty plane and shoved the throttle forward, turning back around again.
Just ahead of him John and the other drug agent were half dragging a blackened and bleeding man toward the plane. A burst of automatic weapons fire knocked all three men to the ground. Foster, running with Peterson about fifty feet behind the others, pointed a small shoulder weapon toward a building and fired a couple of short bursts. Eddie taxied toward the fallen men as quickly as he could, but he saw only John struggle to his feet dragging Burt with him. Peterson and Foster continued runnin
g toward the plane.
John and the injured man reached the plane seconds before Peterson, but John suddenly dropped Burt on the ground. As John and Peterson scrambled in the door, Foster stopped to fire another burst at the building.
Eddie looked back at John and yelled, “What about him?”
“He’s wasted,” John yelled back.
Eddie shoved the throttle forward and stood on the left brake. As the plane started to swing around, Foster threw the weapon down and bolted for the plane. Eddie watched wide-eyed as Foster sprinted into the nearly invisible spinning prop. A spray of red mist blew down the right side of the fuselage as the plane shuttered briefly. Eddie pulled the power out and quickly stopped.
Peterson screamed in Eddie’s face, “You just killed him.” He had a stunned look on his face that mirrored Eddie’s.
Eddie sat there motionless as John stuck his head out the door to look at Foster. Foster’s head was split nearly in two and his right arm was missing. Blood was still pulsing from his shoulder, but it was clear that there was no chance of saving him.
Hank’s voice came over the radio, stirring Eddie back to reality. “You got some bad guys making for your ass. Get out of there, fast. I’ll cover you.”
“Rog,” Eddie answered, shoved the throttle forward, and started the takeoff roll. Within seconds Eddie could see and feel rounds hitting the plane.
He pulled the nose high to get over a building and saw Hank’s 0-2 roar overhead by not more than 200 feet. As he passed directly over Eddie, Hank fired two flachette rockets at the Khmer soldiers firing on Eddie’s plane. The cloud of little darts instantly silenced the weapons fire.
Eddie banked over the river and headed north toward the border. He was still numb from watching Foster run into the spinning prop, so his flying was very mechanical. Peterson tapped him on the shoulder and yelled, “Saigon.” Eddie ignored him. Peterson then pressed a small pistol to the side of his head and said, “We’re going to Saigon.”
Eddie felt physically drained and very weak from his encounter on the ground. He was just too tired to fly all the way to Saigon. And somehow the little pistol just did not seem all that threatening to him.
Eddie shook his head slowly and yelled, “Unless you can fly this thing, you’re either going to Ubon with us or you can pull that trigger and take your chances walking to Saigon.”
“I’m not bluffing,” Peterson yelled, pushing the pistol harder against Eddie’s head.
John Slaughter let out a loud laugh. Peterson turned and looked at him, surprised at his reaction.
“You better look at the airspeed and see how close we are to the river, dumb fuck,” John yelled. “This little thing will hit the water and come apart like a china plate hitting concrete. If we survive the crash, we’ll either drown in the river or be killed by the Khmer.”
Eddie brushed the gun from the side of his head and radioed Hank for his location. They joined up a few minutes later and crossed the border at tree-top level before climbing to a higher altitude.
“What’s your fuel status, partner?” Hank radioed.
Eddie was lost in the thought of Foster hitting the prop. Hank’s voice brought him back to the plane. “Say again.”
“Fuel. Read your fuel gauges.”
“Ah, their…” Eddie tapped them with his finger and said, “They don’t appear to be working.”
“They’re working. You just lost your fuel to battle damage.”
“No, man,” Eddie muttered and started looking at the wings. There were a few bullet holes in the wings, but very little fuel was leaking out.
“I think I’ll make it. Not much fuel is leaking,” Eddie radioed.
As he spoke the engine sputtered and then shut down. He retrimmed for his best rate of descent.
“Unless you can establish a fifty-to-one glide ratio, you better start looking for a place to park that thing,” Hank radioed.
“What are you doing?” Peterson demanded, waving the pistol at Eddie.
“We’re going down. Now take that thing out of my face.”
“Why? What’s down there? What’s happening?”
“Your buddies back there shot up my fuel tanks. Now, if you want to live, go sit down and let me fly this thing.”
“Gonna be a problem, pal?” John asked. “I’d hate to splatter after all we’ve been through.”
“From five thousand we’ll have about eight minutes to find a landing spot. It doesn’t have to be a big one. I figure we can make it another five miles or so.”
“No problem?”
“No problem, John. Just relax and leave everything to me.”
Eddie found a small road next to a clearing. He set the plane down and the three of them walked a quarter mile to a little village. The half dozen villagers were explaining that they were in Laos and there was no telephone or radio in the area when they heard the heavy beat of an approaching helicopter.
Eddie pulled up his small survival radio and Hank answered immediately. The Jolly Green would pick them up in the clearing next to the road.
Minutes later the Jolly Green Giant helicopter passed over the village and set down. Only Eddie and John got aboard. Peterson had run off into the jungle.
UBON RTAFB
21 April 1975
Eddie, Hank, and John were having lunch at the Thai Restaurant when Mack Klevenger walked in. “What did you do this time?” Mack asked Eddie.
“No telling,” Eddie answered with a shrug.
“Must have been something pretty bad. General Bellford is in the colonel’s office and he sent me to find you three.”
“He say anything about putting handcuffs on us or us being wanted dead or alive or anything?”
Mack grinned. “No. Just wants to see the three of you.”
“Well, I don’t know about these guys, but I’m going to finish my meal first,” Eddie replied with a nonchalant shrug.
Hank grinned and kept eating, but Mack shook his head. “Don’t worry about making captain. You won’t even be a lieutenant much longer.”
Hank led Eddie and John Slaughter into the base commander’s office. But before they could report to the general, he was on his feet.
“Donevant, you son-of-a-bitch, you did it again. This time the President himself wants to know what the fuck is going on. So, what am I supposed to tell him?”
“Well, sir. We couldn’t blame this one on the CIA, could we?” Eddie asked lamely.
The look the general gave Eddie told him that was the wrong thing to say.
“General, it was my fault. I practically ordered him to come with me,” Hank said.
“Captain Renwick. You have a nickname at Thirteenth Air Force. The Black Knight. And every time I read something new and bizarre with Donevant’s name in it, I read your name in it, too. Just why the hell is that?”
“Actually, General, it was my fault. You see–—”
“You? Who the fuck are you?”
“I’m John Slaughter, an agent for the BNDD.”
“Oh, yea. I’ve been reading some of your stuff. The new Colonel Lansdale of Southeast Asia.”
“I believe he was CIA.”
“He was also the goofy bastard that led raiding parties into North Viet Nam and helped get that whole fuck’en war started. Now you’re going to tell me that these two attacked a village in Cambodia, or whatever the hell they call it now, in direct violation of a standing Presidential order, because you told them to?”
“That’s not exactly what happened, sir,” Eddie said.
“Well, gentlemen. Why don’t you just park your asses in some of these comfortable chairs and give me all the sordid details. And make it simple and easy to understand, because I’m the lucky son-of-a-bitch that gets to fly to Washington and personally explain it to our appointed President.”
Eddie glanced
at the chairs set up for them and thought, we may as well sit while we still have something back there to sit on. Brass Balls Bellford can chew ass like a drill sergeant and I can see it coming.
They spent an hour briefing the general on the full details of their unauthorized mission. General Bellford listened carefully, asked a few good questions, and took a lot of notes. When they finished, he asked, “Have each of you completed an after-action report?”
They all said they had, but Eddie explained he classified them and kept them in his office.
“I’ll stop by for a copy of them on my way to the plane. In fact, I’ll need five copies.”
“Sir, regs prohibit making copies,” Eddie said.
“You’re telling me about following regs!?” he said with surprise in his voice.
“Ah, I’ll have them ready for you, sir.”
“I really appreciate that, son. And, by the way, Donevant. Have you ever thought about being a lawyer? My slimeball brother-in-law could use a partner like you in his law firm.”
PROJECTS OFFICE
22 April 1975
Just after lunch, Teresa walked into the office and dropped a pile of messages into Eddie’s in-basket.
“Anything earth shattering today?” he asked.
“Message from your buddy Brass Balls, addressed to you.”
“Court-martial orders?” he asked, reaching for the messages.
“No. But you’re grounded.”
“Again?”
Teresa laughed and said, “I think this one comes with the blessings of the President.”
Eddie read the message, which stated he was grounded until further notice, and then tossed it back into the in-basket.
“Going to appeal the decision?” Teresa asked.
“Why? The war’s over. We’ll be going home soon.”
“I think you’re right. Still, it’s lost flight pay for you.”
Eddie shrugged and walked out telling Teresa, “I’m got out to the orphanage if anyone’s looking for me. All this war news is too depressing for me today.”
Eddie found John Slaughter in a bar just outside the main gate.
The Wrong Side of Honor Page 20
