the Hill (1995)

by Scott, Leonard B

  Jason clenched his teeth to fight the pain in his shoulder. “Did they fall back? What’s happening?”

  Sawyer dug his boots into the earth wall, knocking more dirt on Jason. “They ran past us and up to the other knoll, but the second wave is coming. I was out of ammo and played dead. I saw you go down and figured this hole was worth a try. Jesus, sir, they were everywhere. I saw a lot of our guys holding up their hands to surrender.”

  Jason began to speak when renewed gunfire broke out, and in a minute he could hear his men screaming. The sound sent shivers up his back. The screams were not in anger or desperation but in crazed fear. An explosion shook the earth around him and the gunfire stopped. The hole was a sauna without a source of air, and his eyes filled with stinging sweat. The silence was broken by men screaming in the distance and the sound of two quick shots. Again he heard wailing and crying, then two more shots. His body tightened and he fought to free himself. They were executing his men!

  Sawyer began crying uncontrollably and beat his head against the dirt wall to try and clear the sounds from his mind. Jason gave up, overcome by pain and helplessness. His body went limp, and he let his head fall to his chest. He was trapped in hell, and there was nothing he could do but listen to his men being murdered one at a time.

  Captain Elliott pressed the handset close to his ear to hear and spoke above the sound of the exploding artillery. “We are under attack from the northwest. I need air support and a resupply of ammo. I also need demo to blow a landing zone for my wounded. We have repulsed two attacks and are critically short of ammo.”

  He listened for a few seconds and yelled into the plastic mouthpiece, “Twenty minutes is too late! In twenty minutes you won’t have anybody here but gooks! I need the resupply now, or what’s left of this company is going to die!… Fuck, no I’m not going to settle down and stay calm! I’ve lost three platoons already and got four KIAs and nineteen wounded here! Get the shit to me NOW!”

  Sergeant Taloga sat against the foxhole wall beside Elliott and concentrated on the sounds down the ridge. He’d arrived thirty minutes earlier only to find that the captain had been wounded during an attack along with many others of the weapons platoon. The hope of saving his men was gone. The captain’s small perimeter had less than fifteen men who were not wounded or dead. The artillery was saving them. The trees were much smaller near the hilltop, and the exploding rounds were effective at putting up a curtain of protective steel. The sergeant stared at his hands, knowing the men he had been sent to save had perished.

  Elliott tossed the handset to his RTO and looked at Taloga. “A resupply bird is on its way in. It’ll have to kick out the ammo and demo into the perimeter. You and your two men will redistribute the ammo, then start blowing us an LZ.”

  Taloga nodded tiredly. That morning the company had been 115 men strong and filled with confidence. Now, five hours later, the company was down to only fifteen men who were not wounded or dead, and the survivors were holding onto life by a thread. A resupply copter was their last hope. If they could blow an LZ, then additional men could be brought in and turn the tide. Again he was given the job of saving men. He inserted a fresh magazine and raised his head to look at the heavens. He hadn’t prayed in years, but he hadn’t forgotten how.

  Sawyer mumbled as the gunshots just above him became louder. He could hear the Vietnamese voices as clearly as if they were talking to him. The body above him was suddenly turned over, exposing a shaft of light, and he screamed frantically, “GOD NOOOOOoooo!”

  Excited Vietnamese voices became louder and an AK-47 barrel was lowered to his head. Sawyer screamed louder and thrashed his head back and forth, trying to get the cool steel off his temple. The weapon fired and his head slammed forward into the dirt wall. His body slipped down on top of Jason’s head and shoulders.

  Jason bit his lip to stifle a scream. A second shot was fired, and Jason felt Sawyer’s hot blood and brains roll down the back of his neck. The smell of gunsmoke and blood was overpowering, and the soldier’s weight on top of him was suffocating. He couldn’t breathe or see. Laughter and talking above seemed to melt into a fog as the pain and lack of air took over and released him from his tormenting agony.

  Walking down the hill, Major Xuan stepped over American and Vietnamese bodies, until he reached a pile of stacked corpses. He glanced at his captain. “How many Yankees died?”

  Captain Trung responded blandly, “Three platoons of infantry—approximately eighty men. We have collected their weapons and radios. My company lost thirty-eight men, and we have another forty wounded who will require medical attention.”

  “What are the total losses to the battalion?”

  Trung looked at a piece of rice paper. “Comrade, our losses are heavy: 150 men have been killed and over 250 wounded. Enemy artillery wreaked havoc upon the thirteenth and fifteenth companies when they attempted to wipe out the remaining Yankees up the ridge. Reports from our scouts confirm two Yankee relief companies are en route. The scouts have been slowing them down with sniping, and they won’t reach us here until later this afternoon. The victory is yours.”

  Major Xuan lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply. As he exhaled he looked down at the blood-matted blond hair of a young paratrooper. “Leave two squads to snipe at the reinforcements when they arrive and have the rest of the battalion retire. Take all our dead, and we will bury them where they will not be found. The lesson is over.”

  Ty and Caddy were sitting behind sandbags and watching the far side of the river when Sergeant Hammonds walked up behind them. Ty knew something was wrong by the look on the sergeant’s face. A shiver ran up his back. “What’s wrong?”

  Hammonds tried to look Ty in the eyes but couldn’t. “The lieutenant has been monitoring the radio all day. It’s your brother’s company, Alpha, Second Batt. The last report said the company had seventy-eight men missing, presumed dead, four confirmed KIAs, and nineteen wounded. The survivors are coming in on helicopters in a few minutes. I told the L-tee about your brother, and he gave me permission to release you for a while. I thought you’d probably want to be there when the choppers came in.”

  Ty picked up his rifle and began running toward the airfield. Caddy exchanged worried looks with Hammonds. “Is there a chance he made it?”

  Hammonds shook his head. “Doesn’t look good. The only guys to make it were the headquarters and weapons platoon. The line platoon grunts are the ones that are missing.”

  “What the hell does ‘missing’ mean? Damn, don’t they know what happened to them?”

  Hammonds looked over his shoulder at Ty jogging toward the airfield. “It means they haven’t found the bodies yet.”

  Jason awoke to the sound of moaning. At first he had thought he was dreaming and the sound was a part of a horrible nightmare, but the sound was real. So was the pain that racked his body and the crushing weight that still pressed on him. He tried to open his eyes, but they were covered in coagulated blood, dirt, and dried sweat. He tried again but couldn’t tell if they were open. It was pitch black. Forcing his head up with all his strength, he moved Sawyer’s body only a few inches, enough to free his right arm. The release of pressure sent a jolt of pain through his body as if he had been struck by lightning. For several minutes he shuddered and passed in and out of consciousness, until he finally regained enough strength to stand the excruciating throbbing. Moving his arm was agonizing, but he pushed the body up and moved his head to the side as far as possible. Sawyer’s corpse shifted just enough and slid farther down, freeing Jason’s head. Jason took in his first breath of fresh night air. His feeling of bliss was cut short when a man’s low moan pierced through the blackness like a knife. The sound was docile and strangely homey as if he were moaning for a mother in the next room. It was a small child’s moan. The voice was his own.

  The point man for Bravo Company held up his hand, signaling for the lead platoon to halt. In front of him was what he had hoped he wouldn’t find. The day before they had finally linked up
with the Alpha Company commander at two in the afternoon but were stopped from trying to move toward the surrounded platoons. Every time they tried to move, snipers would pin them down. They had to wait all night and through the next day until one-thirty that afternoon before artillery finally cleared the ridge of the enemy. He hadn’t slept the night before for thinking of the men only five hundred meters away.

  The platoon leader came forward and looked at the grisly scene before him. He dropped to one knee. “God have mercy on their souls.”

  He posted security and ordered his men to begin the gruesome job of checking all the bodies. A sergeant found a man alive who had been shot in the head. Another soldier was found beneath two of his friends but had lost a lot of blood. The search continued for several minutes when the lieutenant noticed the crevice. He stepped closer and looked inside. Ten feet below he saw a creature looking up at him. It had two heads. “My God!”

  Colonel Thong angrily slammed the table with his fist. “You did not obey my orders! You were to attack and withdraw.”

  Major Xuan tossed to the table an American dog tag chain with numerous tags. “The lesson you and the general wanted is there. Eighty Yankees are with their ancestors.”

  Thong ignored the evidence. “And over 150 of my men are with theirs!”

  Xuan stood up, seething. “They are not your men. They are mine, and they are heroes. I did what you and the others are afraid to do: attack! Attack and wipe out the Yankee dogs. They are nothing! I saw them. They are overfed boys!”

  The colonel shook his head, realizing he was talking to a madman. “Those ‘boys’ killed and wounded one-third of my battalion,” Thong said, shaking his head. “You are relieved. You are no longer a part of this command. Get out now before I have you executed.”

  The major’s lip formed a cruel grin. “You will be calling me back. I know the Yankees better than all of you. You need me.”

  Thong couldn’t stand the sight of the man any longer and turned his back, motioning for the operations officer. “Take him away and …”

  “Kill me?” Xuan said sarcastically.

  The colonel finished his sentence. “… and make sure the general knows why he is returning to the base camp.” Minutes later, the operations officer stepped into the hut. “What will happen to him, Comrade?”

  The colonel lowered his head. “He will receive another command in another unit. Sadly, he was right. Some in the Fatherland believe we need his kind.”

  Ty knelt on the tarmac beside a litter and held Jason’s hand. Jason wasn’t looking at him; he was staring at Sergeant Taloga with blank eyes. “They … they killed them all. Redford, Bagley, Fontaine, Perkins, Billings …”

  Taloga nodded and ran his hand over Jason’s forehead. “I know. You’re gonna be okay, L-tee. You’ll be going home. Don’t think about it anymore.”

  Jason mumbled, “And Sawyer, Carter, Smitty …”

  Ty turned his brother’s head toward him. “Jay? Jay, it’s me. Look at me.”

  Jason’s eyes focused and tears began welling up. “Ty, my … my men are gone.”

  Ty leaned over and hugged him, wanting to take away his anguish. Ty was still shaking with relief. He had been waiting all day at the airfield for the final word. When he had seen Jason being taken off the medevac, he had cried uncontrollably. The battalion surgeon had cleaned Jason’s wound and ordered another medevac to take him to the hospital in Pleiku.

  Ty patted Jason’s arm. “Hang tough, big brother. You’re going home. Mom and Duane will be waiting for you.”

  Jason nodded and smiled strangely. “I’m a Red Hill Paratrooper, aren’t I?” He lifted his hand and pulled out his dog tag chain. Attached to the chain were the silver jump wings Ty had given him. “Take them, Ty. I don’t want to be a soldier anymore. I wanna go home to Mom.”

  “He’s doped up pretty good,” Taloga said softly. “Don’t mind what he says. He’ll snap out of it.”

  Ty nodded and pushed the chain back beneath Jason’s shirt. “You keep ’em, Jay; they’ve been lucky for you. They’re coming to pick you up now and get you to the hospital. You take care and hug Mom for me when ya get home.”

  “Home?” Jason said hoarsely. “I can’t go home, I’m dead. I died with my men.”

  Two men picked up the stretcher and began walking to the Huey. Ty walked alongside, still holding Jason’s hand. “I love you, Jay. I’ll see ya, brother.”

  Jason looked at Ty. “I … I’ll see ya.”

  Ty backed away from the helicopter and stood beside Taloga until the bird lifted off and became a distant speck.

  Taloga looked south at the mountains. “He’s right, you know. We all died up there on that ridge. We may be walking around and breathing, but something inside us died with our platoon.”

  Ty forced a smile. “Jay will be all right once he gets home. There’s a place we know that will take away the bad memories.”

  “Only heaven can do that,”

  Taloga said. Ty closed his eyes and was back on his hill. “Yeah, I guess you could call it that.”

  27

  Hammonds marched down the trail and tossed his rucksack beside Ty. “We’re stopping again. The second platoon is trying to find a path through the bamboo up ahead; it’s thicker than hair on a dog. It’ll be at least ten minutes before we move out. Take a break.”

  He sat down beside Ty and took out his map. “This valley is the worst I’ve ever been in. I’ve never seen so much bamboo.”

  Ty looked over the sergeant’s shoulder at the map. The valley they were in was shaped like a cigar pointing directly toward Cambodia. Unlike the mountains south of Dak To, the area to the west of the base camp was covered in bamboo that soared to fifty feet. The rain forest was locked in battle with the bamboo, and it looked as if the rain forest was losing.

  Hammonds pointed to the west. “We need to get to the high ground on that chain of hilltops. Up there we could move a helluva lot better than in this shit.”

  Ty glanced at the mountains. “If the NVA are up there, it’s gonna take more than a company to dig ’em out. I don’t like it. I got the bad feeling they’re playing cat and mouse, and we’re the mouse.”

  “The brigade has had only a few small contacts since your brother’s company got waxed,” Hammonds said, putting the map away. “The dinks shot their whole wad or got real lucky with Alpha Company. They can’t fight toe to toe with us and expect to win.”

  Ty lay back on his pack and shut his eyes. “I hope the dinks know that.”

  “How about a smile today?”

  Jason forced a small smile at the prim, rotund nurse in the hope that she would leave him alone. Her constant cheerfulness had driven him crazy these past weeks.

  “That’s much better. I was beginning to worry about you, being so down and all. A little smile works wonders—just like this breakfast.”

  He sat up as she set the food tray on a rolling table and pushed it in front of him. “You know, Lieutenant Johnson, you should count yourself blessed that you’re able to feed yourself. Some of the men on the other ward would give anything to pick up a fork, the way you do.”

  Jason glared at the woman. “Yes, Ma’am, you remind me every damn day.”

  The nurse’s brow furrowed. “I will ignore that, because you’re obviously tired. I can tell you didn’t sleep again last night. But I suggest you ease up on me and the staff and put the war out of your mind.”

  Jason ignored her words and picked at his scrambled eggs. She stared at him for a moment, then lowered her eyes and pushed the cart down the aisle. He had to admit she had been right about one thing: he hadn’t slept again. It was impossible to shut his eyes without seeing the enemy pouring over the knoll. He could see the wounded and hear their soul-wrenching pleas. He could feel Sawyer’s warm blood dribbling down his back like syrup. The nurse wanted him to forget the war, but the war wouldn’t let him go.

  He began to pick up the glass of orange juice when a long-haired doctor strode up t
o his bed and began inspecting his shoulder wound.

  Jason was tired of doctors making daily visits without ever telling him anything. He spoke coldly. “When am I going home? I’m gettin’ real tired of this place.”

  The doctor raised his eyebrow. “Didn’t anyone tell you?”

  “Tell me what?” Jason said, figuring there was a typical snafu.

  “You’re being sent back for duty. The wound is healing nicely, and you should be able to return to your unit within a few weeks. Of course, you’ll have light duty for an additional month, but you’ll be as good as new and ready for whatever you do.”

  “No way!” Jason blurted. “I’m going home. They told me.”

  “Who told you?” asked the doctor, raising his voice to match Jason’s.

  “The medics, the doc that operated, the other guys on the ward. There’s got to be a mistake.”

  The doctor raised his chin smugly. “Lieutenant, I have been specifically sent here to ensure that men who are fit for duty return to their units. You’re a perfect example of a soldier who can still serve his country. I checked your records. You’ve served only four months in Vietnam. You can serve out the rest of your tour with no problem. Your wounds will heal.”

  Jason angrily pushed the table away. “You don’t understand. I can’t go back. My men are dead.”