The operations officer’s face showed signs of strain. His eyes were bloodshot and sunken. “Reports from the scouts confirm more Yankee and puppet units are arriving everyday at Dak To. The tall one must be very happy. ”
The colonel’s jaw tightened. “Hold your tongue. The general knows all too well the consequences.”
Jason stood outside the operations tent and watched the buildup. The Second Battalion had arrived the day before and had moved to the old Dak To airstrip, just a klick east of new Dak To. Both bases were swarming with activity. Tents were thrown up anywhere the ground was flat. Slicks, gunships, medevacs, and small observation choppers passed over every few minutes on every conceivable type of mission. C-130s landed, unloaded, and took off every few minutes around the clock, bringing in more men, equipment, and ammunition. Fighter planes crisscrossed the skies. The air was tense with excitement.
He took a deep breath and walked back inside the stifling operations tent to thumbtack maps to sheets of plywood. He had to stay busy. The battle reports from the Fourth Batt had shaken him. The NVA were doing exactly what they did to his unit in June—they were attacking the perimeters in waves. He felt better since calling the Thirty-ninth Scout dog detachment that afternoon and finding out no dog handlers attached to the Fourth had been wounded or killed, but he still felt sick inside. He didn’t want any man to experience what he had gone through, especially Ty.
The major walked into the tent and tiredly sat on a folding chair. “I guess you’ve heard all hell is breaking loose south of Ben Het,” he said tiredly.
Jason motioned toward the stack of reports. “Yes, sir. The Brigade runner is bringing those over every hour.”
The major sighed as he eyed the messages. “Well, I just left the old man, and we’ve been ordered to plan an assault to join the ruckus. The Fourth Battalion cleared a firebase on Hill 823. They call it Firebase 15. We are going to air assault in and establish another firebase, Firebase 16, farther into the mountains to support a bigger search. Looks like we’re going to join the battle. ”
Jason looked at the map he had just tacked up. “There’s a big hilltop eight klicks southwest of the firebase that would be perfect. It commands the whole valley to the east … it’s Hill 875.”
Hanlon stood and looked at the map and pointed at another spot. “No, let’s plan for this smaller hill, here, that’s only six klicks away from 15. I don’t want to take too big a bite. We’ll request bomb strikes on its top just before we go in. ”
Jason marked the smaller hilltop with a pencil. “When are we supposed to go in?”
The major tossed his helmet to a corner of the tent. “Plan it for the tenth.”
Ty jumped off the Huey with Saber and walked toward the buckets of iced-down soft drinks. Ben Het was nothing more than a dirty, ugly mound of red dirt, but it was out of the mountains and represented civilization. Lieutenant Jenkins had Cokes waiting for the entire company when they got off the choppers. Ty gave Saber a chunk of ice to lick and opened a can. He brought the drink to his lips. Nothing in the world could have tasted better. Not only was it ice cold and delicious but it was a part of home.
Hammonds and the rest of the squad gathered around Ty and drank in silence. They didn’t want to spoil this wonderful moment. Silk lowered his can at the sight of a familiar soldier approaching. “Man, you better have a picture of a good-lookin’ hole or don’t be comin’ back talkin’ jive.”
Caddy smiled broadly and tossed a packet of pictures toward the big black paratrooper. “Caddy messes with only class. Check it out. She was a model for the Thai magazines. ”
Bugs, Cowboy, Book Man, and Surf all grabbed for the pictures as Ty and Hammonds embraced Caddy. Hammonds patted his stomach. “You got fat!”
Ty grinned. “Yeah, the good life put some pounds on ya.”
Caddy began to retort when Silk let out a yell and shoved a picture in front of Bugs’s face. “I told you she’d be a queen! Look at them watermelons, man!”
Bugs pushed the picture away. “That’s makeup! They’re probably paste-on tits. Dink boobs don’t get that big, and you know it.”
Cowboy held up a picture. “Caddy, what was you all doin’ in this one? I can’t tell if you was upside down or she was.”
Book Man glanced at the picture and took off his glasses to clean off the dust. “Cowboy, the maiden is performing a form of fellatio in a position unknown to the women of the Western world.”
“Say what, man?” Silk asked.
“Fe-lat-shee-o,” Bugs said. “It means the broad likes to be feeled up before gettin’ it on. It’s Eye-Italian.”
Caddy laughed and looked at his friends’ tired, unshaven faces, knowing they’d been through hell. Their eyes told their own story. He put his arm around Ty. “I heard it was real bad. I wish I’d been with you all.”
Ty exchanged glances with Hammonds. “You didn’t wanna be there. I just hope someone figures out how to blow the mountains away with B-52s and leave us out of it. The dinks got us by the balls up there.”
Caddy tossed his head toward the bunkers. “Come on, I’ve got some beer for you guys. I heard the Fourth Batt is going to take a break for a while.”
Hammonds raised his Coke can. “I’ll drink to that.”
31
General Duc walked into the busy operations center and all work stopped. The six staff officers he had working around the clock smiled at him. The news from the spies in the south was better than they had expected. The Yankees and puppets had committed over sixteen thousand men to the battle. The entire American Fourth Division was in Dak To, as was the 173d Airborne Brigade. A brigade from the First Cavalry Division was in Kontum screening the southern sector, and six ARVN battalions had been sent from the Saigon area to search north of the Dak To airfield. The diversion was a resounding success.
He stopped in front of the large calendar on the wall and picked up a pencil. The calendar began on the first and ended on the twentieth, representing the second part of the plan—he was to hold the enemy in the highlands for twenty days. He drew an X through the tenth day and faced his officers. “Comrades, we have ten more days to fight the enemy. You have pleased me with your dedicated efforts for the Fatherland. You are all heroes, and you will not be forgotten.”
The staff officers hid their smiles and resumed work immediately. Colonel Kinh offered a cup of tea to the general, who sat down and picked up the reports from the regiments. He took the cup from Kinh and motioned for the colonel to sit beside him.
“My friend, the battle is unfolding much more slowly than I had expected. I thought the Americans would attack quickly so that we would not have time to lick our wounds or to reorganize. As it is, they are helping our schedule. ”
Kinh folded his hands in his lap. “They have no time schedule, my general. We have taught them to be cautious. What I do not understand is why they have not used their silent bombers more, with their bombs that hit without warning. I must admit to you that I fear great losses from those bombs, should they saturate the mountains.”
General Duc sipped his tea and looked through the reports. He spoke softly. “I, too, worry about the bombers. Perhaps they are committed elsewhere, or perhaps the Americans want to be able to count our bodies for the statistics they seem enamored by. Whatever the reason, we must hope they continue not using them.” He read two reports and stopped at the third. “The 174th Regiment has withdrawn back to their third phase line, correct?”
“Yes, they have fallen back without being detected, just short of Hill 875.”
The general looked over his shoulder at the wall map. “They must be prepared to move at a moment’s notice, but inform Colonel Huu I am depending on him to remain in the sector until the fifteenth.”
Jason was relieved when he heard that his battalion’s air assault was delayed another day until he found out the reason why. The Fourth Division’s Third Batt, Eighth Infantry had hit an entrenched NVA company, and had sustained eighteen killed and many wo
unded. One company was down to forty-four men, and another had only fifty-six. Every available asset was being used to help the embattled battalion to disengage and to recover the wounded. Two choppers had been shot down and two more hit so badly they were put out of action.
He walked out of the tent and sat on a nearby sandbagged bunker. He still had not been able to sleep nights, thinking about the men he had lost, and recent events had only made the nightmares worse. Casualty figures were skyrocketing with no end in sight. The high-ranking brass were committed to finding and destroying the enemy, and the NVA were equally committed to making them pay for their folly. The battle had turned into a war of statistics. Strategy was simply to kill more enemy than they killed Americans and call it winning. Somehow it didn’t seem to make any difference anymore. The hospital was full of winners. Killing and counting was not a strategy he had learned at the Infantry School. The 173d was taking ground one day and leaving it the next, only to come back two days later and fight all over again for the same real estate. The war was turning into a mindless maze of rules and regulations that no one understood. Cambodia could not be bombed, although the enemy was staging from base camps there. B-52s couldn’t be used because units were too close to the targets, but hell, everything in the mountains was a target. Why didn’t the leaders just order their men out and blow the mountains to smithereens?
“Jay, the operation getting you down?”
He turned around and looked into the ruddy face of Major Waters, the Second Battalion’s chaplain. The big man had his usual smile, which always seemed to put people at ease. Unlike most of the chaplains Jason had met, Waters knew how to talk to the men and to put them at ease. He was always in the field and shared the hardships of the paratroopers, whom he considered friends. The troopers respected the middle-aged priest and affectionately called him “Father Mike.” Every man in the battalion knew that if they had a problem, Father Mike could be counted on to listen, and he would do everything possible to help.
Jason returned a smile. “Hi ya, Father! How was your R and R?”
Waters sat down and looked at the setting sun. “The miniskirts are getting shorter and this old man had a tough time getting on the plane to come back, especially to this. How is your brother doing? Is he still with the Fourth Batt?”
Jason leaned back on the sandbags, amazed that the chaplain had remembered their conversation of a month before. He had mentioned Ty only in passing.
“He’s in the Thirty-ninth Scout dog detachment now, but he’s attached to the Fourth Batt. He’s hangin’ tough.”
Waters kept his gaze on the mountains. “I know you must be worried about him. This battle is turning out to be a very difficult test for us all.”
“It’s screwed up, Father, a real mess,” Jason said. He shook his head. “The NVA wanted us here. I heard a general say to our commander that we ought to thank God the enemy has decided to fight us so we could show the people back home we could kick ass. Somehow I don’t think the general knows what’s going on.”
Waters eyed Jason with concern. “Are you worried about your brother or angry with the general?”
Jason lowered his head. “I … guess the casualty reports have gotten to me. I just hate to think of Ty having to go through what I did. It was … was just too much for anyone to take. ”
“You took it,” Waters said softly.
Jason looked toward the mountains. “No, I didn’t. My men are still crying out to me. On nights like this I can hear them.”
Waters put his arm around Jason’s shoulders. “Turn loose, son, let them go. This war can’t be borne on the shoulders of a single man. There is no good in bearing the guilt of those who have already gone. Think about those who are living. They are your hope.”
Jason kept his distant stare. “I’ll try, Father.
Ty was lying in the shade underneath a poncho when he heard the company commander’s RTO come running up out of breath. “Ca … Cat, man, I’ve been lookin’ everywhere for you. The old man wants you ASAP.”
Ty got up slowly. “What’s he want, ya know?”
“No, man, he just wants you like five minutes ago. Come on, man.”
Ty motioned for Saber to stay. “Caddy, watch him for me. I’m probably gonna get my ass chewed for Saber barkin’ all night.”
The company commander was somber as he paced back and forth in front of the radio. His jaw tightened at the desperate voices coming over the speaker. He had been told by the battalion commander early that morning to monitor First Batt’s frequency and to keep abreast of the situation. First Batt had been searching two klicks west of Hill 823 and had found several well-used trails littered with bloody NVA bandages. The battalion was split into two units, and one of the units had walked into an enemy ambush. The unit was surrounded and had had half their men killed or wounded. They had lost all of their medics and were running out of ammunition. The situation was desperate.
The radio’s static stopped and an excited voice filled the bunker. “He’s hit! My God, the old man is hit! Paraglide Six, our CO has been hit in the head! They’re everywhere. We can’t hold them!”
The captain stopped his pacing. “Son of a bitch!” He looked up and saw Ty standing in the bunker entrance. “Nance, we have been alerted to go and help the First Battalion. They’re surrounded just west of 823. The battalion commander called me a little while ago. The first company to go in will be Charlie Company. Their dog handler is sick, so you’re to take his place. Pack your ruck and draw a basic load. Be prepared to load choppers in fifteen minutes.”
Ty turned around without speaking and began jogging to his bunker.
The wind tore at Ty’s legs as the chopper streaked over the rain forest at tree-top level. He had his arm around Saber’s neck and looked over his shoulder at the commander of Charlie Company. The young officer was yelling into the radio to be heard over the engine noise, “Get ready! We’ll be there in a few minutes!”
The other men in the helicopter nervously shifted their rifles as they watched the green ocean below go by in a blur at ninety knots. The captain had told his company just before loading that the LZ was only six hundred to seven hundred meters from the surrounded companies, and they were to run if necessary to get there as quickly as possible.
The Huey began to slow down, and Ty tightened his grip on Saber and on his weapon. Suddenly the bird dropped and settled into a small open area. Ty landed on a small bush and fell head first. The captain pulled him to his feet. “Move it!”
He quickened his pace, letting Saber have all the slack he wanted. The sound of gunfire and artillery was leading them to the battle. The squad leader ran up to him and whispered, “When we get close, the old man says we’re to start running and hollering. Yell something American so the First Batt boys don’t shoot your ass.”
As he topped the crest of a hill, Ty stopped. Strewn in front of him were American rucksacks and equipment. Two NVA were squatting with their backs to him, rummaging through the packs. Ty raised his weapon to fire, but both men turned and threw up their hands. The squad leader ran ahead and pushed the men face down into the red dirt. The squad fanned out and searched the hilltop as the captain kept the rest of the men moving. Only a few hundred meters down the ridge was the sound of gunfire from the embattled unit.
As he jogged along with Saber, Ty could feel the presence of the enemy. The feeling sent cold chills up his back. He could hear Sergeant Winters yelling to him somewhere in his brain, “Take it slow, get in the groove! Never hurry!”
Saber strained at his leash, pulling Ty along in a mindless dash. Shots rang out somewhere behind him and were immediately answered by the men of Charlie Company. The captain kept his voice low but confident. “Keep moving. Keep moving, don’t stop now.”
Bullets cracked overhead. Leaves and branches began falling like rain. He passed by a crashed helicopter that was still smoldering and covering the trail with smoke. One NVA soldier ran through the smoke only ten feet in front of Saber, th
en another. Ty didn’t get a shot off in time, but he began firing into the bamboo anyway. The men behind Ty began yelling and running faster, overtaking him. More men passed by screaming at the top of their lungs, “AIRBORNE AIRBORNE AIRBORNE!”
Ty joined the commander and the first sergeant as they ran down the trail. They jumped over the bodies of two dead NVA and burst through a small clump of bamboo. Ty tripped over something and fell. Bullets slammed into the ground beside his head, and he heard Saber whine. He rolled and sprang to his feet. Saber was running in circles, whining and nipping at his side. The dog was bleeding profusely and yelped in hysteria at the pain. Ty fell again, trying to grab the leash. He hit on something soft that let out a putrid odor. He gagged and looked down at the body of a dead paratrooper. Black ants were crawling into the corpse’s mouth and nose in regimental rows. His stomach was ripped open and his intestines, filled with gas, looked like long, curled pink balloons. Ty yelled to Saber, but the gunfire and screaming drowned out his plea. A rocket whooshed by his shoulder as he jumped for the leash. Saber yelped and bit at him, but he wrapped his arms around the dog’s head and pulled him to the bloody ground.
He wrestled with the dog for only a few seconds before the animal quit fighting. Then he slid his hand down to the wound and bit his lower lip. The bullet had passed through Saber’s left side and had blown out his right. His insides were ripped apart. The dog jerked with spasms of pain and whined as if being beaten. Ty pulled out his pistol and put it to his friend’s head. He looked into the dog’s sad eyes. With tears streaming down his face, he whispered, “I’m sorry, buddy. God, I’m so sorry.”
Blam!
Dazed, he lowered the smoking pistol and released Saber’s body. A paratrooper ran by and stepped on the carcass. Ty raised the pistol in a rage and almost fired at the man, but a sergeant grabbed his shoulder. “Come on, don’t stop! The perimeter is just ahead!”
the Hill (1995) Page 33
