He picked up his rifle and put on the helmet he had lost. Then he wiped his eyes and looked at his dead friend one last time. “Good-bye, buddy.”
Ty forgot the loss of his friend with one look at the pathetic sight before him. The perimeter was only fifty meters across, but it was filled with row after row of wounded and dead men. Their bodies were covered in a light dust, making all of them look the same. Dead NVA lay among the paratroopers and were stacked in piles on the edge of the perimeter, which was marked by hastily dug holes clawed out by hand. Two dead machine-gunners lay behind their guns, shot several times in the head. They still cradled their weapons, as if waiting for another attack. A man could have stepped on bodies for the entire fifty meters and never touched the ground.
A wounded soldier looked up at Ty with wide eyes. “Wa … water.” Another holding a bloody bandage to his jaw stretched out one hand. “Water, please.”
Ty took out his canteen, and a sea of broken men seemed to move toward him all at once in an unstoppable wave. He gave all he had and more came begging and crying. Tears came to his eyes. He felt totally helpless. A young soldier who could not have been more than nineteen grabbed at him. “Loosen the bandage on my leg for me. It hurts real bad.” Ty bent down to comply and had to wipe his eyes so as not to show the tears. The soldier had no leg.
A medic from the Fourth Battalion yelled and threw him an aid bag full of bandages. “Look around and put a bandage on anybody who needs it, but for God’s sake, don’t take any off. ”
Charlie Company finished searching the area and came back to help. In several minutes all the wounded had received water. Ty was covered in blood and had wrapped every conceivable type of wound. He had found that the men on the outside rows were shot seven to ten times, their bodies protecting those on the inside. Most of the injured had more than one wound. They had been hit by gunfire as well as grenade fragments and rocket shrapnel.
The first sergeant knelt beside him. “Keep helping out here. We’re going to set up another perimeter on the outskirts of this one until we get an LZ cleared.”
A soldier tapped the first sergeant’s shoulder. “Top, I counted them like you wanted: twenty-one dead, 154 wounded, and two missing.”
The first sergeant grimaced. “Two fuckin’ companies chopped up … damn, this battalion has had it.”
Ty wiped the sticky blood from his hands onto his dirty trousers and opened another first-aid packet. “It ain’t over, Top. We’ll make ’em pay for this.”
“How many more will it take to get revenge, kid?” The sergeant’s eyes saddened, and he stood up. “I can tell ya … too many, just too damn many.”
* * *
Jason stepped off the skid of the Huey and ran to a nearby hole to escape the dust. He just made it in time and turned his back as the helicopter lifted off and blew up a red storm cloud. He waited a few seconds more before lifting his head to get his bearings. The small hill looked as if someone had dropped a giant box of toothpicks all over it. Battered, leafless trees formed an abstract maze a laboratory rat couldn’t negotiate. Bomb craters, foxholes, and howitzer firing pits pockmarked the hill. Stacked columns of artillery ammunition crates were the only things that looked orderly. The battle-weary artillerymen were covered with red dust.
Jason saw the antennas to his far left and climbed out of the hole. The day before, the Second Battalion had air assaulted onto the scarred hill without incident. He was to man the forward operations center and relay radio reports back to the main TOC in old Dak To. The battalion had walked out of the new firebase that morning and was to search the mountain ridges to the west.
The operations sergeant held up a canteen cup in greeting as Jason walked toward him. “Well, well, looks like they sent you to purgatory, too, huh? Welcome to Firebase 16.”
Jason climbed down the ammo box steps and threw his hand up as if waving the craggy-faced NCO away. “Don’t be messin’ with me, Harper. I haven’t had my coffee yet this morning.”
Harper laughed and poured some coffee into an empty C-ration can. “Here ya go, L-tee. This will make ya feel better.”
Jason sipped the hot liquid while looking over the bunker fashioned from wooden 105-howitzer ammo boxes. The boxes were stacked head high and covered with tin, then with sandbags. He stepped inside the small confines and nodded approvingly. Three candles burning in C-ration cans gave off a golden radiance that reflected off the wood box walls. More of the ammunition crates were used as tables, chairs, and shelves to hold food, radios, and weapons. “Harper, I gotta hand it to ya, it’s real homey. Ya done good for a damn Texan.”
The thirty-three-year-old sergeant sat down pointing to the radio speakers.
“I rigged up two squawk boxes so we could hear even if we was outside. I know you officers sleep all the time, so one of the speakers is in the corner where you’ll crash.”
“Thanks,” Jason said sarcastically.
Harper hid his pleasure at seeing the lieutenant’s good humor and mood. He had been working with the young officer since he got out of the hospital and had grown to like him. He usually didn’t like officers, but the lieutenant’s genuine concern for soldiers had broken the ice. Most officers only talked about taking care of enlisted men because it sounded professional. Johnson didn’t talk. He did things that made a difference. Johnson was good, but he was guilt-ridden about surviving the massacre in June. At odd times he would cry, and sometimes, when he pulled night duty, he would stare off into space as if in a trance and shake like a leaf. The kid had problems, but he was still a damn good man whose heart was in the right place.
“Sir, you might as well drop that ruck and take a load off your feet. The companies left about an hour ago and should have reached the first series of ridges. I haven’t heard from them in the past twenty minutes.”
Jason looked at a map spread across two crates. “I’d better mark this and …”
The speaker suddenly rushed with static as the Alpha company commander’s voice came over. “Eagle, Alpha three, this is White Six. We’re in contact at phase line one. Enemy is in bunkers on Hill Yankee. Estimate company-size element with machine guns. I have three KIA and twelve WIA. Need Arty to fire target one zero seven immediately, I will adjust. Have medevac standing by. I have no LZ close by and will have to cut one. How’s your copy? Over.”
Harper had already picked up the handset as Jason plotted the information on the map and picked up another handset to call the artillery. “Roger, White Six, have solid copy. Artillery will be on the way in two mikes. Charming Six will be overhead in ten mikes. Out.”
Jason sat by the radio and stared at the map in front of him. Even now, Charming Six, the battalion commander, and the operations officer were in the command and control helicopter three thousand feet above the firelight issuing orders to the company commanders below. The battalion commander had arrived thirty minutes ago and had taken over the situation. From his chopper, he could talk to the ground commanders, artillery, medevacs, Air Force, and the brigade commander. He could do all this in relative safety, while viewing the terrain and adjusting the artillery and air support. Jason had heard the troops refer to the choppers as the “flying circus” or the “fly high boss.” That was the problem: the commanders weren’t on the battlefield leading their men. There was no leading by example, no making on-the-spot decisions based on cold facts and intuition. At high altitude, the battalion commander could rely only on information from ground commanders. The flying circus leaders couldn’t see the death or smell the cordite. They couldn’t hear the crack of bullets or see the pain. They flew above it all, blinded by the rain forest canopy and deafened by the radios blaring in their earphones. The system worked if the commanders were experienced and had been on the ground before, if they could visualize the battle and be there in his head, he was like an angel of God. If they couldn’t, they killed unintentionally by making mistakes and doing nothing when something had to be done.
Jason listened to the radio and f
ollowed the battle on his map. When the control chopper ran out of fuel he would have to run the operation until the commander returned. Alpha Company had reached a saddle and was on the way up a hill when he was hit. The company commander tried to maneuver forward, but his platoons hit strong resistance. He formed a perimeter but the enemy tried to flank him, and he quickly withdrew so as not to be surrounded. Alpha pulled back to Bravo and Charlie companies on a knoll but was immediately attacked by NVA who had crawled within fifteen meters of the perimeter.
Harper walked into the bunker and set a C-ration can of beef and spice sauces in front of Jason. “Eat up, L-tee, you’re gonna need it. Looks like we’re gonna be here awhile.”
Jason took the spoon the sergeant held out to him. “How come it doesn’t bother you? It’s just business as usual to you. ”
Harper sighed and sat down. “It bothers me, believe me, but what can we do? Wishing and praying doesn’t do a damn bit of good. I was on radio watch when your platoon was hit. I listened to you talking and pleading for help. I didn’t know you from Adam, but it still bothered me. I’ve just learned not to show it.”
Jason put down the spoon. “Alpha Company has paid enough.”
Harper scratched under his arm. “They’ve all paid enough,” he said. “Alpha just happened to be the ones that got into it this time.”
At sunset the choppers came in. The first of the arriving men crawled out of the Slicks as if they were in slow motion and walked toward the bunkers like zombies. Hammonds had waited most of the afternoon for Charlie Company to return. He stood on top of a bunker and looked at the face of each man as he passed by. None returned his stare or acknowledged his presence. The word throughout camp was that Charlie Company had saved the beleaguered unit with their cavalry-like charge, but very few men of First Batt were left to thank them. Because of its excessive losses, the First was now considered combat ineffective.
Hammonds hopped down. He hadn’t seen the man he was looking for. The last chopper landed and seconds later lifted off, hiding itself in a dust cloud. He strained to see through the dust. Five men appeared. None were his man. His stomach knotted then relaxed as a sixth soldier materialized. Hammonds saw a walk he knew.
Ty shuffled with his eyes shut to avoid the powdered dirt. He was too tired to wipe the red dust from his eyes and mouth. He cracked his eyelids only enough to follow the ground in front of him and saw a pair of boots. Opening his eyes further, he discovered his friend. The familiar face made him want to cry and to fall to his knees, babbling. He had been among strangers for too long.
Hammonds didn’t need to ask where Saber was, the Cat’s eyes told him. The soldier’s uniform was stained black with dried blood and sweat, and his right sleeve was ripped open, exposing his bandaged arm. The Cat had aged five years since he saw him two days before. He put his hand out. “We missed you, Cat.”
Silk, Cowboy, Bugs, Caddy, and the rest of the men gathered around Ty and took his pack and weapon. Silk held out a warm can of Coke. “I saved it for ya, man.”
Ty held the can with tears in his eyes. He had never felt so much love for his friends before. The past two days of not knowing anyone’s name and knowing they didn’t know his tore him up inside. The wounded in the perimeter hugged each other, not wanting to be separated from their buddies while being medevaced. He couldn’t understand it then, but now he did. All they had left was each other, Alone they were nothing. They couldn’t survive by themselves. Friends made a team, and a team was hard to kill. Friends took care of you when you were hurt or down. Friends wouldn’t leave you, and they would share whatever they had with you. Friends would die for you because they knew you would die for them. Being alone among many was the worst feeling in combat Ty had ever felt. He felt so vulnerable and naked. Fear was intensified, for there was no one to share it with. The fear of dying and being left for the ants like the soldier he had fallen on was always in the back of his mind. When he had been hit by shrapnel that last night, no one asked how he was or helped him. The others were with their friends and were taking care of their own. It wasn’t intentional. Charlie Company was a good group of men, but they didn’t know him. He was an outsider.
Ty had dreamed of nothing but sleep when he was on the chopper, but now he wanted only to be with his friends.
* * *
Colonel Kinh woke the general with a gentle nudge. The old soldier sat up immediately. “You have news?”
“Yes, the 174th is engaged. The unit that secured the hill south of 875 sent out three companies and hit Colonel Huu’s Fourth Battalion defenses. He has asked to pull back now and not wait until the fifteenth.”
General Duc lay back down. “Tell him to fall back only to his next defensive positions in the sector and to wait. If the American search continues and his battalions are found, then attack. He must hold them until the fifteenth.”
Kinh nodded and left the room.
Jason smelled coffee and tossed back the nylon poncho liner. He got up from his bed on the dirt floor and sat down at the ammo box table.
Harper pushed a full canteen cup of coffee toward him. “You didn’t sleep much. Why don’t you crash again for a couple of hours? I can handle it. ”
Jason looked at his watch. It was 3 P.M. He’d lost track of time the past day and a half. He slept only a few hours at a time and constantly got up to monitor the radio. The day before, Alpha Company had suffered three dead and twenty-one wounded. Bravo had one KIA and eleven wounded. They had found only four dead enemy. The two companies had returned to the firebase that evening but went out again today at 1300 hours. Their mission was to search the mountaintops they hadn’t reached the day before, but from a different route.
He took a sip of the hot coffee. “Anything so far?”
“Naw, it’s quiet.” Harper set down his canteen cup. “Look, L-tee, it may not be any of my business, but you’d better talk to a doctor. It ain’t right to toss and turn like you do in your sleep. It was hard for me to concentrate on listening to the radios with you moaning and grinding your teeth. You scare the hell out of me. It just ain’t natural.”
Jason’s bloodshot eyes moved slowly toward the sergeant. “You’re right, it isn’t your business.”
The speakers suddenly stopped hissing. “Eagle Alpha three, this is Blue Six. My lead element has found some bunkers just north of checkpoint two. We’re checking them out and …”
The sound of an explosion and machine-gun fire came over the radio. Jason grabbed up the handset just as the Bravo company commander began shouting over the sound of gunfire. “CONTACT! WE’RE IN CONTACT! FIRE TARGET … TARGET … SHIT, I CAN’T REMEMBER IT!… No, wait, target zero four!”
Ty sat down dejectedly. “You don’t have a dog for me, and all you want me to do is sit around and wait? Come on, Top, I could sit here for weeks.”
The first sergeant leaned back in his chair. “What the hell is it with you? Haven’t you heard the morgue has run out of body bags? Shit, the brigade has had over a hundred men killed. Don’t be tellin’ me you wanna go back, or I’ll send your ass to a shrink. ”
Ty rolled his eyes. “Naw, Top, just let me go back to Bravo Company, Fourth Batt. They’re the brigade reserve. They won’t be doing anything.”
“You can do nothing here just as well as do nothing with them.”
“Top, it’s different with my friends. I don’t know anybody here. I’ll go nuts. Just let me go back until you get me a dog.”
The senior sergeant lit a Lucky Strike. “If you ask me, you’re nuts already.… Aw hell, go on back. I’ll say you’re our one-man recon team assigned to the Fourth. But don’t get in any trouble! Now, get out of here!”
Ten minutes later, Ty stood on the road waiting for a truck headed for Ben Het. He stepped on a black ant that had crawled over his boot. “Not me, ya bastard. You’re not gonna get me. ”
Jason listened to the battalion commander talking to the Bravo CO. There was nothing the two men could do. Bravo had been hit on thre
e sides and had tried to pull back, but they couldn’t carry all their wounded. They wouldn’t leave their men, so they formed a perimeter to fight it out. Artillery was coming in within twenty-five meters of the surrounded unit, but the NVA were staying within fifteen meters in the thick bamboo, hugging the perimeter.
He could see the battle, he could feel everything the terrified men were feeling. He shivered, yet he was sweating, knowing exactly what they were going through.
Harper stared at him from the entrance of the bunker. He was worried that Jason was going to pass out from exhaustion. Harper had tried to relieve him, but the stubborn Okie just ignored him and continued to follow the battle on the map. He wasn’t writing in the log book like he was supposed to do. Instead, he seemed to be fighting alongside the Bravo commander.
Jason couldn’t keep his head up any longer, but he didn’t want to shut his eyes. When he did, the men came back to life and screamed out to him. He had to stay awake and help those who needed him, but some were beyond help. Bravo Company was finished—they’d lost a total of twenty-two men killed and twenty-eight wounded in two days. They had survived the battle only to be put out of action as a company. They would need fifty replacements and time to heal the mental wounds. The dead would join the men of the Second Platoon in Jason’s dreams and add to the screams that wouldn’t let him sleep. Again he had been powerless to help or to save a single man.
Again … again … again.
Sergeant Hammonds looked up at the hot sun and tossed down his shovel. Three hours of filling sandbags was enough. He motioned to the squad. “Come on, that’s all we need. Let’s get a shower.”
Silk hung back from the others as they walked across the dirt field. “I don’t need no shower, man. I’ll wait on you guys in the bunker.”
the Hill (1995) Page 34
