the Hill (1995)

by Scott, Leonard B

  Jason smiled at Waters. “It’s too late for him, Father. He’s beyond anyone’s help.”

  Harper frowned. “Thanks a lot, L-tee. ”

  Private Bui Ngoc Duong, the machine-gunner, and the assistant gunner crawled out of the communications tunnel and into their bunker. Duong anxiously looked out of the firing port and immediately felt like crying. Months before, the general had visited his position and warned him of the destruction, but it was beyond his dreams. The deep tunnel had protected him from the bombs and artillery, but nothing had protected his wonderful trees. They were almost all gone, and those that were left were battered sticks with leafless limbs. The ground was plowed up and covered with small craters and the twisted, shattered bodies of the trees.

  The field phone hummed by the gunner. He quickly picked it up, having forgotten his instructions to keep the phone at his ear and report seeing anything that moved. He spoke apologetically to the senior sergeant and held the phone in the crick of his neck as he prepared his machine gun.

  Smoke filled their nostrils from the small fire started on the hilltop but it was not a choking smoke. Suddenly, the gunner stood up with the phone to his ear and signalled to the others. “The second bunker sees them.”

  Duong looked out the right firing port and unconciously ducked. Twenty meters down the slope were two Yankees climbing over debris. The gunner motioned Duong to take his position. He was to shoot and kill the first Yankees. When others came to help their comrades, the gunner would open up with the machine gun.

  He swallowed a lump in his throat and aimed his AK-47. He was to wait until he couldn’t miss. The approaching big, white-skinned American soldier was being very cautious. His uniform was filthy and his helmet seemed too big for him. Duong felt sympathy for him, for his pack was huge and must have been heavy. He aimed at the man’s chest and squeezed the trigger.

  “CONTACT!” screamed the second platoon leader to the Delta company commander. The second squad leader heard the shot and looked up in time to see his point man pitch backward, struck in the chest. He raised his head to see if he could spot the sniper as his men yelled for the medic. He couldn’t see anything but blown-down trees and smoke. The medic ran past and hopped over a log close to the point man. He began to feel for a pulse when a bullet struck him in the head and knocked off his blood-spattered helmet.

  The Delta company commander yelled for his men to get on line and advance. The two lead platoons crawled into a ragged line behind fallen trees and clumps of splintered bamboo. They began moving forward, still not seeing the enemy.

  Private Duong moved to the other firing port, making room for the machine-gunner and his assistant. He could hear the 174th’s senior sergeant yelling from inside the tunnel for his men to hurry to their positions in the trench. The liberation platoon of the Second Company was taking its place in the trench line just behind his bunker.

  Peering out the portal, Duong saw nothing. Then he heard the first of the Second Platoon’s grenades and rockets exploding down the ridge.

  * * *

  Jason and Major Waters ran up the slope toward Captain Kaufman’s CP. They had received word to come forward and see the situation firsthand.

  Kaufman yelled for them to stay down as they approached his position beside the trail. He waited until they were safely behind a fallen tree before speaking. “We’re into something bigger than we expected. Delta’s point team got hit, and the company deployed and started up. They made it fifteen yards and were stopped cold by NVA in trenches and machine-gun fire from bunkers. Charlie Company tried to advance on their side and hit the same type of resistance. I lost a medic and Lieutenant Smith from the Third Platoon during the attack. Between Delta and my company, we have twelve wounded and four dead. I’m going to pull the companies back and pound the hell out of the hill again with arty. Chaplain, we’ll consolidate the wounded near that lone tree forty meters behind us, and I’d appreciate it if you’d watch out for things there. Jay, I’ve been talking to the old man on the horn, and he’s trying to get me air support. I want you to tell Captain Kaley of Alpha Company that I need some of his men to start clearing an LZ so we can get our wounded out and get a resupply of ammo. ”

  Minutes later, Jason was kneeling beside Captain Kaley and his RTOs. Kaley spoke tiredly. “We’ve got one platoon strung out behind Charlie Company’s rear trying to stay in visual contact, and we’re doing the same thing behind Delta Company. First Platoon is my rear security. I’ll have the weapons platoon cut the LZ.”

  One of the RTOs sat up and handed the handset to Kaley. “They’re having problems up ahead. One of the platoons didn’t get the word to pull back and kept fighting up the hill. They got hit by our artillery and they’re pinned-down by the dinks. Captain Kaufman is sending another platoon up to try and get them out. ”

  Kaley looked at Jason and frowned. “This isn’t looking good. We’re going to need at least another battalion to take this damn hill.”

  Colonel Huu threw the field phone and yelled for a runner. The operations officer turned from the wall map. “You couldn’t make contact?”

  Huu was steaming. “No! The phone and radio are out! The infantry are still waiting for orders to attack!” He grabbed the young runner’s shirt and pulled him to within inches of his face. “Go to the Second Battalion and tell the commander to attack the enemy’s rear and flank immediately. Tell him we will begin the mortar attack at …” He looked at his watch and made a quick estimate of how long it would take for the battalion to move into position. “The mortars will begin firing at 1430 hours. Go! And be quick!”

  Captain Kaley took one look at the progress of the weapons platoon at clearing the bamboo and trees and put the handset to his mouth. His men were getting nowhere with machetes. He had to request an LZ kit that had the chain saws and demolition needed to clear a big enough area.

  Hearing the request over the radio, Jason grew worried about the wounded. He blew dust off his rifle and stood up. “Harp, I’m going up to that big tree all by itself up the ridge to see if I can help the chaplain. You just sit tight and keep listening to the radios.”

  “No sweat, L-tee,” Harper said as he dug a foxhole with his entrenching tool. “You just go on and play hero all you want. I’m digging myself to China and be halfway there by the time you get back.”

  Jason pointed at his radiomen. “You guys should take a lesson from this vet and start digging.”

  Chaplain Waters took a poncho from a dropped rucksack and spread it on the ground. Then he motioned to a wounded soldier. “Come on, son, pick your legs up and get on the poncho. The ants are getting bad where you’re laying.”

  Jason stopped at the row of wounded behind the tree and suddenly felt weak. The horrible scene was all too familiar. He fought through the weakness and stepped closer. The smell hit him. He halted again. The odor of blood and dried sweat caused him to shudder uncontrollably. His skin crawled with the memory of Simpson’s blood dripping down his back.

  Waters glanced up and saw Jason staring at the wounded. He spoke softly. “Jay, could you search through some of the rucks behind you and bring me ponchos?”

  Jason stood frozen to the ground, not hearing the artillery or the chaplain’s words. His mind was somewhere else.

  Waters walked up to him and put a hand on his shoulder. “Jay? Jay, we need your help. Will you get me some ponchos from the rucks behind you?”

  Jason’s eyes focused and he took a deep breath. “Yes, sir.”

  The second squad leader and first sergeant of Delta Company crawled toward the hidden bunker. It was only fifteen meters up the ridge from where the point man had been shot earlier that morning.One of the men in the squad had seen a tongue of flame and spotted the small aperture. The squad followed closely behind them. First Sergeant Deebs had volunteered for the attack. He was tired of seeing his men getting hurt. He carried a claymore bag full of grenades and crawled low alongside a downed tree to within a few yards of the firing port without being
seen. Taking a grenade from the bag, he pulled the pin and counted to two before raising up and pitching it into the firing port. Seconds later the grenade went off to screams of joy from the pinned-down men. Deebs tossed in two more for good measure and waved his men forward.

  Private Duong lay just inside the tunnel trying to clear the ringing in his head. The first grenade had landed at the assistant gunner’s feet, and he had kicked it into the grenade sump dug into the floor of the bunker. The device exploded before it fell into the hole, severing the assistant’s foot at the ankle and wounding the gunner badly in the legs and waist. The second and third grenades landed next to the two crumpled bodies. Duong had been in the tunnel getting more ammunition when the assistant had yelled a warning.

  He shook his head and crawled into the dust-filled bunker. The bodies of his comrades were ripped horribly. They didn’t look like people anymore. Blood and pieces of flesh were all about him. The place looked like a slaughter house for pigs. Through the portal he saw the Americans approaching. Backing up, he picked up his rifle and opened the box that held a dozen grenades. Placing them in a row on the firing ledge, he lifted his weapon and fired his AK until it was empty and began tossing grenades out the portal.

  Deebs spun around at the sound of the AK fire. Two men fell, shot in the legs before his eyes. “SONOFABITCH!” he yelled, and crawled toward the bunker again, but a grenade fell only a few feet from him. He rolled over into a depression just as the device went off, showering him with dirt.

  The squad leader yelled, “Fall back! Fall back!”

  Deebs cussed as he jumped to his feet and ran, just making it to a crater before another grenade exploded.

  Jason had heard the chopper come in twenty minutes before and had hoped the weapons platoon was making progress with the landing zone. Some of the wounded were in very bad shape. Chaplain Waters had already given one paratrooper last rites. Jason stood. He thought he had heard a mortar firing. He wasn’t sure if it was one of theirs or the NVA’s. The answer came fifteen seconds later when a thunderous CRACKwhaWHOOM filled his ears. The round had hit down the slope where the chopper had hovered and kicked out the LZ kit. Damn, the dinks had mortars, too! If they were trying to find the range they were right on target, he thought. Any medevacs trying to come in would be torn apart by shrapnel.

  A wounded soldier grabbed Jason’s leg. “Sir, are we surrounded?”

  Jason squatted down. “Of course not, that was just a mortar round to our rear. Take it easy and lay back. We’ll get you out pretty soon now.” He was about to pat the soldier’s hand when he suddenly stood up. The flanks! he thought. My God, the flanks! They’ll do exactly what they did to me and the platoon. He began running down the ridge to warn Captain Kaley.

  Specialist Selly sat alongside the trail with his team, smoking cigarettes. The machine-gunner next to him backed up from his gun and said, “Man, hard-luck Alpha has got skate duty this time. I dig this rear security bit. Poor ol’ Charlie and Delta sound like they’re in a beehive. I dig nobody shootin’ at us, man.”

  Selly blew out a cloud of smoke. “Get back on the gun and be quiet. You can never tell when … what’s that?”

  The machine gunner listened for a moment and quickly readied his M-60. “Sounds like a platoon of elephants coming, man.”

  Selly tossed his cigarette behind him and motioned his men down. “Hold your fire until we see who it is,” he whispered.

  Twenty feet in front of the outpost the trail made a sharp turn to the right. From around the bend came two columns of NVA with blackened faces, jogging up the trail shoulder to shoulder. The machine-gunner let them get within fifteen feet before pressing the trigger.

  Jason was blown off his feet by an impacting mortar round as he ran toward the LZ. He lay looking up at the sun. He could hear nothing but a dull ringing. The sun seemed exceptionally warm on his face, making him suddenly uncomfortable. Sitting up, he wiped the sweat from his eyes and brought his hand away covered in blood. Still feeling no pain, he touched his face and found the gash below his eye. The skin was laid back like a slice out of orange.

  Another mortar round landed below him, then another. Men were yelling that the rear outpost was under attack. Jason got up and saw Captain Kaley with his headquarters group next to a tree only twenty yards away. Wounded men from the previous mortar rounds were lying in front of them. He began to run to their position when a mortar round exploded in the tree above the group, showering them with shrapnel. Kaley went down, hit in the back, and the others screamed out in pain.

  Jason began to move toward them when he saw, from the corner of his eye, three men break out of the trees from down the ridge. All three were turning and shooting back into the trees and screaming, “THEY’RE COMING! THEY’RE COMING!”

  He knew in an instant that his fears were being realized. The NVA were attacking the rear. He began to turn and face the onslaught when firing broke out from the west. GOD, NO! They were attacking the rear and west flank simultaneously. The only hope was to get the platoon on the other flank into a perimeter and to hold off the wave of attacks long enough to make a break for Charlie and Delta’s perimeter. He broke into a dead run toward the platoon following Delta Company, screaming for everyone he saw to form a perimeter.

  Sergeant Harper balled up as the bamboo behind him was chopped to pieces by machine-gun fire. His foxhole was only forty yards from the rear OP, and he had laid down protective fire for a soldier who had run up the trail throwing hand grenades behind him. The soldier, Spec-4 Selly, jumped into the hole with Harper. He said the NVA had killed his team and were attacking. Harper had made a decision to move back to the Charlie and Delta perimeter, but the NVA machine-gun fire from the west and rear had them pinned down. He peered over the lip of his hole and felt his stomach shrivel into a twisted knot. NVA were pouring out of the tree line and running up the trail.

  Captain Kaley saw the attacking enemy from the west and pushed aside the senior medic, who was working on his back. He raised his rifle and began firing, hitting three of the screaming men before being struck by a stream of bullets. The rest of the headquarters group fired until their weapons were empty. Then they tried to use their M-16s as clubs. The wounded men in front of the dead captain screamed in horror as the NVA ran over the top of them in a human wave, stabbing them with fixed bayonets.

  Harper jumped out of his hole, knowing they would be overrun like Alpha Company’s headquarters, and yelled for the RTOs to follow him up the ridge. The first enemy wave had passed, rushing toward the flank platoon, while ten to fifteen more NVA were running around shooting those the others had missed. Harper fired at two NVA only several feet away and spun around to cover the backs of his small group of men. More NVA came out of the tree line below him, running and shooting, as Selly and the RTOs dashed out, firing left, then right.

  Jason had formed a perimeter with nine men and had to wait only a minute before the NVA appeared in a spread-out line. He lay down and took aim while talking calmly. “Semi only. Take your time and aim.”

  The first line of enemy were brought down only ten yards in front of the position. “Aim, shoot, and pick another target. Aim and squeeze, don’t jerk.”

  Five more NVA went down, but still more came yelling, “Tien len! Tien len!”

  Sergeant Harper saw the perimeter formed by Charlie Company and screamed for them not to shoot. Selly and the RTOs jumped into a crater beside a machine-gun position and yelled for Harper to join them. The sergeant was white-faced from the sprint and could barely move his legs. He jerked and pitched forward into the red dirt. A bullet had torn through the back of his leg, knocking him down in front of the crater. Selly jumped up, grabbed the moaning sergeant, and pulled him into the hole.

  Jason turned around and saw that more of the platoon had joined their perimeter, including the platoon leader, who had been wounded badly in the arm. He crawled to the lieutenant and explained what had happened and that they had to back up and join with Delta and Charlie
companies’ perimeter before being completely cut off. The lieutenant barked at his men, “First squad, you lay down covering fire while the rest of the platoon runs up the ridge. Everybody put in a fresh magazine. You’re moving in thirty seconds.”

  Captain Kaufman ran back and forth between Charlie and Delta companies, tightening the perimeter. The situation was looking bleak, and he called the battalion commander to tell him that they were surrounded and needed an emergency resupply of ammunition. He could barely hear the colonel’s reply over the mortar explosions. Rockets were swooshing into the perimeter, and shrapnel whistled and whizzed overhead.

  Kaufman was grabbed by his first sergeant. “Sir, Alpha Company has had it! There are only a few of them left, and they say there are lots of wounded down the hill. Kaley and his headquarters group all bought it!”

  Kaufman looked around a battered stump toward the sound of his men’s yelling. A few survivors from Alpha were running up the slope, led by Lieutenant Johnson. “Get those men on the perimeter as soon as they come in and do the best you can, Top. Make sure our men look before they shoot, so we don’t hit any of Alpha’s men trying to make it in.”

  Jason fell heaving into a small crater. He felt as if his chest were crushed. A Delta soldier crawled over to him and lifted his chin. “Better let me bandage that wound, L-tee; it’s gettin’ full of dirt.”

  Jason fell back against the plowed earth breathing in gasps as the soldier wrapped a piece of towel around his face. “Sir, it ain’t much, but it’ll keep the dirt out.”