Under Attack

by Eric Meyer

  “We need to find another way in.”

  “Drive around. The last I recall the perimeter fence at the end of the airfield was easy to get past.”

  I drove around, and all I met were more soldiers, many of them ARVN, and a few United States Marines. They were taking security seriously, which was no surprise. A few klicks north the People’s Army of Vietnam was still attacking Binh An, and even from a distance we could hear the crackle of machine gun fire, and the whistle of mortars as they fired shell after shell. Hopefully, they were our mortars. The end of the runway was a bust. They’d beefed up the perimeter fence with rolls of razor wire piled high, impossible to get past without specialized equipment. I briefly considered running the wire with the jeep. Except security was so tight they’d fill us full of holes before we made a few meters inside the base.

  “Any other ideas?” I said to Ray.

  “None. Why don’t we go into town, get something to eat, and think about it? If we wait out here, sooner or later they’ll get curious, and the MPs will start asking us questions we can’t answer.”

  We drove into the nearby town, and it was mid-afternoon. The bars were already busy, serving mainly booze to the large number of troops who’d arrived to reinforce the garrison, and many would find their way north to join the battle at Binh An. We were inconspicuous, just two American soldiers in scruffy ODs, with two beautiful Vietnamese girls. Le and Lam attracted admiring glances, which took the spotlight away from us. We found a table in the corner of a restaurant where the lighting was low and ordered food. Afterward we sat drinking, and after three hours we still hadn’t come up with any way to get inside the base. And if we did get inside the base, how to go looking for Bao Ninh, a man we’d never seen and had no idea what he looked like.

  We were still chatting, mulling over different ideas when Le paled, and she seemed to shrink into herself, sliding aside to hide behind me.

  “It’s him,” she hissed.

  “Him?”

  “General Phan Trong Kim of the National Police. My boss.” She meant the man who knew she had broken out of jail and could recognize her, “What’s he doing here?”

  I couldn’t answer that. He moved closer with another man in America uniform with his back to us, and they sat at the table next to us. A moment later the man turned so I could see his profile in the dim light, and I nearly fell off the chair. Colonel Nathanial Bader. My boss. I was about to echo Le’s question; what was he doing here? But sometimes the simple arithmetic we learn in grade school is enough for us to add two plus two and make four. In the next thirty-six hours the President of the Republic would land on the airstrip at Dong Ha. We’d piece it together enough to know the Communists were planning a hit. And now these men were here, about to enjoy a meal together, and I had a strong suspicion their conversation wouldn’t be about the football scores.

  “We need to get out of here.”

  Ray nodded. “There’s a door behind us to the bathrooms. We can climb out from a window and vanish. If they see us…”

  “We’re in deep shit.”

  He shook his head. “Nope, we’re already in deep shit. We’ll be in shit that’s twice as deep. Let’s go.”

  * * *

  It was their second meeting, and ARVN Captain Trinh left his men nearby under the command of Sergeant Diem while he walked forward for a final briefing with General Dam Ho Hung of the PAVN 320th Division. The two men met in a secluded clearing ten klicks from Dong Ha, and the General waited for the ARVN captain to salute. He waited in vain.

  “General, have you completed the attack on Binh An?”

  Dam scrutinized the South Vietnamese junior officer, wondering why Hanoi had ordered him here to this meeting. He didn’t like what he saw, and he didn’t like a mere captain asking him impertinent questions about the way he ran his division.

  “First, why did they order me to meet with a South Vietnamese officer? I have a company of infantry waiting less than one hundred meters from this place, perhaps I should order them to kill the men you brought with you.” He gave Trinh an evil smile, “And then I should kill you, Captain, and we’d have a few less enemies to fight our way through to Saigon.”

  Trinh’s stare was hard and unwavering. It reminded Dam of one of his own snipers, the way they sized up a target, calculating angles and windage, but all the time remaining focused on where to place the bullet.

  “General, if you want to be recalled to Hanoi in disgrace, to spend the next ten years laboring in a rice paddy, you can continue to ignore my questions. But first, I am not a Captain of the ARVN. My real name is Bao Minh, and I am a Colonel in the Ministry of State Security, currently on temporary assignment to the PAVN. Before then I joined the army of South Vietnam, where I performed certain tasks on behalf of our masters in the North. Now, do you answer my question, or do I contact Hanoi, and have you replaced with another officer?”

  Dam felt himself shiver inside. The Ministry of State Security was not the Department to mess with. Secretive and all-powerful, they could and often did arrest even senior officers in the middle of the night for the merest hint of treachery or betrayal to the Saigon regime.

  “We are still fighting at Binh An. At first, it was defended by ARVN, and we drove them back, but the Americans sent reinforcements, a battalion of Marines, and they fight like devils.”

  “So you have still not taken your objective? Despite the orders from Hanoi?”

  There was no way to gloss over the failure of his troops. “No, we are still fighting.”

  The man in front of him nodded. “In less than thirty-six hours, the President of the Republic of Vietnam lands at Dong Ha to address the defenders.”

  Dam’s eyebrows rose in astonishment. “Of course I know about the visit, but I assumed it would be cancelled, in view of the fighting nearby.”

  Bao snorted. “The fool thinks it will raise morale if he carries on with the visit regardless. He will arrive at Dong Ha, but he will never leave. I command two platoons of ARVN infantry, one is loyal to the South, and the other recruited secretly from members of the People’s Army. As soon as the President stands to give his address, that platoon will attack and kill him. When that happens, it will be the signal for uprisings all over South Vietnam, and we have men in high-ranking positions in Saigon who will quickly take over the reins of power. Men who are committed to the liberation of the South and are prepared to serve under the leadership of Hanoi.”

  Dam looked incredulous. “All this will happen because of the death of one man?”

  “I guarantee it, General. For the next twenty-four hours it is essential you pursue the attack on Binh An with maximum effort. We must convince the enemy that is our main thrust, so do not spare a single man to convince them it is our primary objective.”

  A pause. “Whoever you are, I have six thousand men under my command, and already we have taken heavy losses since the Marines arrived. If we continue the offensive, I could lose half my division, especially if the enemy sends in air support, which we believe to be imminent. What you ask if for me to order my men to commit suicide in a battle they cannot win.”

  “I am asking for nothing, General.” Bao stared into his eyes, his expression as cold as an Artic glacier; “I am passing on an order from Hanoi. Continue to press home the attack using every man who is capable of firing a gun. If you cannot obey this order, your replacement will arrive before nightfall tomorrow.”

  Dam hesitated for a single second. “We will attack in full force.” He paused, returning Bao’s stare, “And you can inform to Hanoi they will need to send in a replacement division when it is over. The 320 th will have ceased to exist. Was there anything else, Colonel Bao?”

  “There is. When the President is dead, I will notify you by radio, and you will send your surviving troops to Dong Ha. I am hoping there will be sufficient chaos for you to take the base without much difficulty.”

  “And if there isn’t sufficient chaos?”

  “Then they will die.”<
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  Chapter Nine

  Now I understood why I’d hit a brick wall trying to convince Colonel Bader. His meeting with General Phan shortly before the Presidential visit was sufficient proof they were involved in the plot. Or were they? Both men were senior security officers, making it difficult to make any charge against them stick. I could try to get the message through to someone more senior, even right to the top, General Westmoreland at MACV, but what could I tell him? Two senior officers responsible for the security of the nation were meeting at a place where the President of the Republic was due to pay a visit. But why wouldn’t they be here checking the arrangements for security? I could hear the expressions of disbelief when I tried to make it convincing. Always assuming I could reach him.

  Even then I knew I’d be wasting my time. Westmorland had been an Eagle Scout, and at West Point they’d awarded him the Pershing Sword, presented to the cadet with highest level of military proficiency. Westmoreland also served as the superintendent of the Protestant Sunday-School Teachers. As straight arrows go, they didn’t come any straighter, and besides, the product of an upper middle-class background, he’d achieved his lofty position with an expert understanding of politics. He had the contacts, he knew everyone who mattered, and ultimately, he’d know the way to win inside the vast bureaucracy that was the United States Military was by keeping his nose clean; even if that meant turning a blind eye to the assassination of a sitting President.

  We managed to leave the restaurant by the rear door, and we strolled through the town until we found another eatery, this time one so slovenly and disreputable there was no way we’d see Bader and Phan going anywhere near it. I could think of a single way to stop it happening, and I hadn’t got a clue how we could do it.

  “We need to find Bao Minh. Getting inside that base while it’s locked down so tight is impossible.”

  The other three stared at me in astonishment. “We don’t even know what he looks like,” Le reminded me.

  “No, you’re right, but you were a cop, Lam was a cop, so there must be some way you can find out. Do you still have your warrant card?”

  She shook ahead. “Of course not, they confiscated it when they arrested me.”

  “I still have mine.”

  I glanced at Lam. “Is it valid in Dong Ha? Do you have jurisdiction?”

  “Of course, I work for the National Police. It is valid all over South Vietnam.”

  “And the National Police has access to security files?”

  “Yes, we work closely with the ARVN and share intelligence.” Her eyes flashed understanding then, “You want me to go into the local police station and check through the files.”

  “That’s exactly what I want you to do. You’re looking for anyone who may look suspicious. A cop or an ARVN officer, someone whose service record doesn’t smell right.”

  She frowned. “Carl, do you understand what you’re asking? Sure, I could probably access their records, but you’re talking about up to one million men and women, including army, police, and territorials. It’s impossible.”

  “Not one million, just those men who are here at Dong Ha. Most of the garrison is American, so it shouldn’t be too much of a problem.”

  She nodded slowly. “I see what you mean. Very well, I will try.”

  “I will go with you,” Le said.

  “You can’t. There’s a warrant out for your arrest. They’d probably shoot you on sight.”

  She didn’t flinch. “They can please themselves with their warrant. You’re not going into the local Police Headquarters on your own.”

  I told her we’d be nearby, waiting outside, but we all knew if they were discovered there wasn’t a great deal we could do. Like busting into a busy police station to rescue them. Sure, we’d slipped in the back way of the Police Headquarters in Saigon, but that was something different. It was in the night, and at the time the cops were facing a renewed attack on the city from the Vietcong. This time they’d have massive security for the forthcoming visit, and none of us doubted they’d have orders to shoot first and ask questions afterward.

  It was early evening when we reached our destination, a gray concrete building that looked like a reminder of the French colonial era, which ended after the debacle at Dien Bien Phu. A solid structure that looked capable of withstanding a hit from a 120mm shell. After spending some time cleaning up in the bathroom of the restaurant, the two girls made themselves presentable enough to go inside and make their play.

  We’d discussed between us the story they could give, and in view of the increased security in Dong Ha, they would say they were working undercover and searching for the identity of a suspected assassin. Any cop who refused to cooperate faced a bleak future if the President died as a result of their failure, and we concluded they had a good chance of getting to the files. Of course, that was one part of the problem. The other part was attempting to locate a photo and description of Bao Minh.

  They walked through the door, guarded by an armed policeman, and disappeared inside. Ray and I found a nearby bar where we could wait, and it proved to be a long wait. The upside was the bar was as much a brothel as a place where a man could drink himself into oblivion. They also had an exotic floorshow, which helped relieve some of the tension. We sat drinking, watching semi-naked and sometimes fully naked girls cavorting on the tiny stage, dancing or giving some vague impression of dance, accompanied by a band of musicians all of whom I had little doubt were well rehearsed. A pity they’d rehearsed different tunes, but the girls took our minds off the cacophony of sound that sounded like someone in the kitchen had dropped a half-dozen saucepans.

  The hours drifted past, and it was past midnight, then past three o’clock, and the first rays of dawn were starting to show through the grimy windows. For the last several hours we’d been drinking coffee, trying to stay awake, and my head was buzzing with too much caffeine, but I relaxed when at last they arrived. And they were both smiling.

  “We got it. You were right. Because he had to be at Dong Ha, it narrowed the search and made it possible. Before now we’d have had to search through the records of more than one million men across the whole of South Vietnam, but it narrowed it down to less than one hundred on the base.”

  I looked at Le. “You have a picture?”

  She unbuttoned her shirt, and I had a momentary flash of those olive breasts I’d seen once before. Inside she had a manila folder, and she put it on the table with a flourish. “Take a look.”

  I picked it up, and it was warm from being next to her breasts, and I could smell the faint odor of healthy young woman on it. Another reminder of a night we’d spent together, but I shoved it to the back of my mind for more important things. I opened the folder, and he was staring at me, a man in his mid-thirties, with a hard face that looked like it had been chiseled from granite. The sloped eyes stared back at the camera as if in a challenge, or maybe sizing up the cameraman for a future hit. He looked hard, fit, and tough. He also reminded me of someone, and I recalled a junior North Vietnamese commissar I’d come up against once, a man spitting hatred as we fought. Even as I slammed a fist into his ugly face and brought my knife into his belly, he still had curses and Communist slogans on his lips. Like a rabid dog, and just like this man. One who would never give up, who would kill and kill again, a thousand times, ten thousand times, if that’s what his cause required.

  We looked at each other. We had a photo and we had a name, but if he was inside Dong Ha Combat Base, there was effectively no way we could get near him.

  “We need to call Captain Roland Mason at Quang Tri. He’s all we have left. At least he can alert Dong Ha and tell them who we’re looking for.”

  Ray shrugged. “It’s worth a try.”

  I found a payphone in the bar and put the call through. When I told him the progress we’d made he didn’t sound impressed. “Since I talked to you guys, I have contacted Dong Ha and told them about this guy Bao Minh. They said they’d double-check the ID of every soldie
r on the base. They came back to me ten minutes ago and said there was no one of that name on the base.”

  I sighed with frustration. “Captain, he’d be using false identity papers. Now we have a photo we can get it to them, and they can check every face, and see if he’s there.”

  “I’m sorry, Yeager, but there isn’t time. The President is due to land soon. You’re out of time.”

  “Soon!” My guts did a somersault, “It’s supposed to be tomorrow.”

  “Yeah, but they’re fighting a battle at Binh An, and that’s too close for comfort. The visit is public knowledge, which means every man in the North Vietnamese Army knows it’s about to happen. They could stage a mass human wave attack on the base and try to kill him, or even send over a couple of squadrons of MiGs on a suicide mission. So they put it forward to today, and by the time our Commie friends find out, he’ll be long gone. I don’t believe you need to worry. Even now every man is forming up for an inspection parade. So far there’s no evidence of any attempt at an assassination, and I think we can relax.”

  “The bastard is there.”

  “I’m sorry, pal, but there’s nothing I can do. The base is totally locked down, nobody goes in or out, and the Presidential aircraft is due to land in about a half-hour. Security is as tight as it gets, Yeager. There’s nothing more you can do.”

  We ended the call and I returned to the table to give them the news. “It’s all over. Either he dies or he doesn’t, we’re out of it.”

  Le shook her head in disbelief. “How can they be so blind?”

  “They see what they want to see. Say, how about we motor out to the base, and we’ll watch a short distance from the main gate. Maybe we’ll see history being made.”