Jason sat up and inserted another magazine in his rifle. The soldier looked at him in disbelief as he began climbing out of the crater. “Where you going, sir? Jesus, stay in the hole.”
Jason shouted over his shoulder, “We’ve got men down there!” He ran down the ridge for twenty meters and fell into another mortar crater. He heard something behind him and spun around ready to fire but stopped himself. The young soldier plus three men from Alpha Company had decided to join him. Mortar rounds were impacting farther down the ridge, and no NVA were in sight. He raised up and could see bodies scattered everywhere. Off to his left were four wounded paratroopers trying to make it up the hill during the lull. To his right, the squad and lieutenant that had remained to cover the rest of the platoon were making a break without receiving fire. Jason jumped to his feet and ran toward the wounded men.
One of the men saw him approaching and fell to his knees crying. Jason yanked him to his feet and pushed him along, but the soldier turned around. “They’re down there. I heard them. They’re going to attack again!”
Jason got down to protect their backs as the others helped the wounded up the slope. He heard them, too. Commands were being shouted. He had heard almost identical commands once before.
Two more men from Alpha Company broke out of the trees just to his left and ran toward him. “Where is everybody?” they shouted hoarsely. “We were on flank OP and seen what must a been a battalion of dinks go by but couldn’t do anything but keep quiet. They was all around us!”
“You see anybody else from your platoon?” Jason yelled, still watching down the hill.
“The only ones we saw were dead. Where is everybody, L-tee?”
Jason decided to check just a little farther down the ridge for other wounded. He couldn’t stand the thought of leaving anyone behind, knowing what had happened last time. “Come on, you two, stay with me. We’re gonna check for wounded.”
He came up to the partially cleared LZ. The ground was covered with paratrooper and NVA bodies in every conceivable position of death. Some were open-eyed, staring at eternity. Others were grimacing in frozen horror. A low moan nearly caused him to urinate in his pants.
He approached the noise, praying it was an Alpha survivor and not a wounded NVA. A black soldier raised up and looked up at him with tears running down his face. “We made it, Bill … Bill, they’ve saved us.” He patted the man lying beside him. “Bill … we’re gonna make it.”
Jason knelt and turned over the soldier’s white friend to check his wound. The stocky man smiled strangely at Jason and raised his hands from his stomach, releasing his intestines, which began oozing out from the wide gash in his abdomen. Jason put his hand over the wound and began to yell for help when he heard the NVA commands again. The voices were very close.
One of the men standing behind Jason saw the first enemy assault line step out of the trees forty meters away and threw himself to the ground. “WE GOTTA GET OUTTA HERE!”
Jason tried to lift the stocky soldier, but he was too heavy. The black paratrooper became hysterical. “His guts! His guts are coming out!”
Two other men grabbed the wounded man’s hands to drag him up the slope but it was too late. The stocky soldier’s eyes became fixed. Jason yanked the corporal to his feet and pushed him ahead. “Leave him! GO, GO!”
Bullets began cracking overhead. Then suddenly the air seemed filled with whizzing lead. The corporal screamed and fell, shot in the arm, and another of the men went down hit in the back of the shoulder. Jason pulled the corporal to his feet as the other soldier helped his wounded friend up. Grabbing the corporal, he began running and yelling for the others to follow. They kept low and ran up the slope, staying in the thicker vegetation, with the NVA close on their heels. The paratrooper who had been hit in the back kept falling down despite his friend’s help. Jason released the corporal and helped lift the bleeding man. They continued running and hollering toward the perimeter.
Delta Company laid down covering for the four approaching men. Jason pitched forward and fell into a warm, smoking crater created by a recent mortar round. Behind him the NVA attacked in a wave assault. He vomited and tried to breathe, but no air would come as the sky overhead cracked and popped with bullets.
Captain Kaufman watched the copter circle and suddenly drop to make its attempt. It barreled in and began its flare but was hit immediately by deadly crossfire. The Huey shuddered and dipped its nose to gain airspeed as the crew kicked out the ammunition pallet to lighten the load. It wasn’t enough. The aircraft groaned and slipped backward as if being pushed by an invisible hand. Kaufman turned his head just as the olive-drab bird crashed into the trees.
The first sergeant slapped his rifle stock. “That’s the third bird we’ve lost! They’re blowing them out of the sky!”
Kaufman motioned to lieutenants Lantz and McDonough. “We need that ammo. Organize retrieval parties and crawl down to where that last bird dropped the pallet and see if you can get it for us.”
Minutes later, the officers began making their way down the steep eastern slope followed by two squads. Lantz took six steps and was shot in the head; he was killed instantly. The ground around the remaining men was riddled by machine-gun fire from down the slope, and they scurried back toward safety.
Kaufman exchanged looks with the first sergeant, who slapped his weapon again. “We’ve got thirty to forty dead and at least a hundred wounded,” he said, trying to hold back his tears. “Sir, we’ve got to get some ammo or none of us are gonna make it.”
Jason crawled down the defensive line and instructed the men to pair up and dig in as deep as they could. He had been hit in the shoulder by shrapnel, but the wound was not deep. The jagged piece of metal was embedded just under the skin, and his arm ached with every movement. Several men asked if they could help him, but each time he shook his head and kept crawling. He had to keep moving or he would start thinking about his pain and the pain of so many others. He had found positions where every man was wounded and others where all were dead. He ordered the more seriously injured moved back to the lone tree for medical attention, but he stopped the slightly wounded from going. It was like playing God, deciding who would stay and fight and who would be able to lie and wait for evacuation from the battlefield, but for Jason the role wasn’t difficult. He knew what the outcome would be if most didn’t stay on the front line.
He stopped at a position to give the men instructions and was shocked when Harper raised his head and looked at him. The sergeant was barely able to keep his chin up, but he still broke into a smile. Jason unashamedly hugged him. “God, am I glad to see you. I thought for sure you were …”
“I thought the same about you,” Harper said, lowering his head to hide his tears of relief.
Jason examined Harper’s leg wound, then slapped his behind. “You’re out of this. That’s an order. Come on, I’ll help you get back to the casualty tree.”
Harper clutched his weapon tightly. “I don’t wanna go. I saw what happened to the wounded by Captain Kaley. I’d rather stay here and take my chances.”
Jason gestured for one of the other men in the position to help him, and they began dragging Harper toward the tree. “Harper, my friend, you’re as mean as a snake. I want you to keep an eye on Chaplain Waters for me and make sure he doesn’t try and convert all those boys into mackerel snappers.”
“God, it hurts,” Harper said through clenched teeth. “I hope they get us out pretty soon. I’ve never felt so shitty.”
Jason quit talking and bit his lip. His arm was sending tremors through his whole body, but as he got closer to the tree, he forgot his own wound. The injured were lying in rows around it with only a few medics to help them. Chaplain Waters looked exhausted as he moved from one man to the next and forced a cheery smile.
Jason called a medic over as he laid Harper down on the end of a long row. “Have you got anything you can give him?”
“We’re out of everything,” the medic said tiredl
y. “The only thing we can do is get them out of here. Do you have any water you can spare for them?”
Jason felt his canteens. “Sorry, I’m out, too.”
Chaplain Waters saw Jason and walked over. “Jay, good to see you. Have you got any water? We need it desperately for …”
“Sorry, Father, the medic already hit me up. I’m all out.”
Waters showed the first sad expression Jason had ever seen from the man. “It doesn’t look good for a lot of them unless we get them some fluids.”
Jason began to speak but the chaplain noticed his discomfort. “I’m sorry. I’m rambling and here you are hurt. Let me take a look at that shoulder.”
Jason backed up, feeling ridiculous. His wound was so minor, compared with those of the others. “It’s nothing, Father, really, you’ve got more to do than …”
“Stand still, and that’s an order from God’s disciple!” Waters said sharply. He checked the wound and spoke over his shoulder. “Sam, we need you here just a sec. This big, stubborn lieutenant has a shrapnel splinter that needs to come out.”
A medic approached and had Jason sit down. “This is gonna hurt like hell,” he said as he pulled out a scalpel from his aid bag. “I’m gonna make an incision, then take that sucker out. It will hurt now, but it won’t be near as bad later on when you try and move your arm. Bite on something and hold still.”
Jason saw the soldier pick up the blood-covered scalpel from the top of his medic bag. He knew better than to complain. It was probably all he had left. The medic had been right. It did hurt like hell. Minutes later, he was bandaged and on his feet. The medic had also checked his facial wound but said it was clotted and that was good enough for the time being.
Waters was talking to Harper when Jason came over and knelt beside his friend. “Father, I’ve got to talk to Captain Kaufman and see what he wants me to do. You watch out for this old trooper for me.
“Sure. I’m going to wash his mouth out with soap first. I’ll see that he stays still for awhile.”
Harper stuck his hand up toward Jason. “Thanks, L-tee … don’t be play in’ hero. Come back and see me later, will ya?”
Jason took his hand. “Sure will. Just take it easy, old-timer.”
Captain Kaufman looked at the crest of the hill as a bomb exploded on the other side. “Joe, move it closer to the top. How’s the artillery holding up?”
The forward observer lowered his handset from his ear. “We have plenty of rounds for the night. We’re keeping the eastern and western flanks peppered.”
Kaufman sat down tiredly and glanced at the rows of wounded only a few paces away. “We need to get those men outta here.” He looked at Jason, who was sitting nearby. “Jay, thanks for walking the line for me. Now I have something else I want you to do. We’ve got another chopper coming in a few minutes, and it’s going to drop in a couple of pallets of ammo. I want you to get some flashlights and make a spot for him. If he makes it in, get the ammo distributed to the platoon sergeants. I’ll send Reddy with you with his radio so you can talk to the bird and guide him. We’ve lost six helicopters so far, so the birds are going to be coming in fast.”
Jason nodded and stood up. “Yes, sir … Sir, we’re going to need water and medical supplies, too, if we can get them. Chaplain Waters told me they’re out of everything.”
Kaufman pointed at his RTO. “Call it in.” Then he pointed at another radioman who looked all of twelve years old. “Reddy, you go with the L-tee and get that bird in here.”
Jason saw the approaching helicopter in the fading light and turned on the three flashlights he had placed in a large crater just twenty paces from the edge of the perimeter. He climbed out of the hole and stepped back, ready to run if the pallets missed their mark. Reddy gave the pilot a course direction and stood on the lip of the crater. Jason yelled for him to get down, but the small soldier’s total concentration was on the fast-approaching chopper. The Huey began to flare as green tracers arched across the sky in front of its nose. Jason threw himself to the ground knowing the flying bomb was going to explode any second. Reddy screamed into the radio, “Not yet, not yet … NOW!”
Out of the shaking machine came large boxes plummeting toward earth. Jason looked up just as the pallets hit, with a thud, dead center in the crater. The Huey banked hard right, almost turning on its side, as angry green tracers shot past.
“Hot damn!” Jason yelled as he ran for the crater.
Reddy and Jason handed out ammo bandoliers to the gathered platoon sergeants, who slung them over their shoulders until they could hardly walk. Several of the NCOs had already made one trip and had come back for more.
Jason felt renewed hope every time he opened an ammo can and pulled out bandoliers. But when an Air Force jet flew over at low level from the northeast, shaking the ground and hurting their ears with its thunderous roar, one of the sergeants looked up and gasped, “God, no!”
Jason spun around and saw the distant casualty tree in the twilight. Then, suddenly, evening turned to day in an instant flash of brilliant white light, followed a millisecond later by an ear-shattering explosion that knocked them off their feet.
He lay in a fog, not feeling or seeing anything. Suddenly, his head and eyes felt as if they were going to explode. The terrific pain slowly subsided and he tried to sit up, but his body was numb and he couldn’t move. Blinking his burning eyes he tried to lift his head, but a weird tingling sensation began at his toes and crawled up his spine. He felt as if he’d been run over by a truck and left semiconscious. Digging his hands into the soil, he turned himself over and focused his eyes. Everything seemed darker and hazy. He felt something touching his arm and forced himself to sit up. Reddy lay a few feet away. “Sir, I can’t feel my legs,” Reddy said thickly.
Still groggy, Jason crawled over and began to check him for wounds. “Your … your legs are fine, You probably just …” He stopped in midsentence as he felt past Reddy’s boot tops. Reddy had no feet, and warm blood was gushing into Jason’s hands. Jason applied pressure to the young soldier’s thin legs and yelled toward a sergeant who was just picking himself off the ground. The sergeant crawled over and Jason whispered quickly, “Give me your belt and something else to tie a tourniquet!”
Reddy began writhing on the ground. “My feet hurt real bad, sir.”
Jason used the sergeant’s belt to tie off one leg, and, with the strap of a bandolier, repeated the process on the other leg. Only after he had finished and wiped his hands in the dirt did he turn around to see what had happened. It was then that it all hit him. A bomb had struck a limb of the casualty tree and exploded in an airburst, showering the perimeter with shrapnel. Reddy had been hit by a big piece of the hot iron, which cut his feet off like a giant razor blade just above the ankles. His boot tops were still laced. Jason could make out two other men lying nearby, frozen in death, and jerked his head up. My God, Harper!
He broke into a run, fell down, and tried running again. His body didn’t seem to want to respond. Staggering toward the tree in the darkness, tripping and falling several more times, he passed bodies and men standing in silent shock. He heard hysterical screaming behind him for “Mediiiiiic!” He kept moving toward the tree, passing small fires started by the explosion. He tripped again, falling over a body, and got up just as a flare popped high overhead. The tree was just ahead, but it was a quarter of its former size. Its top looked like a splintered willow. The rows of wounded men were gone. Jason walked ahead in a stupor as the parachute flare swayed in the wind and cast its eerie light over the destruction. Mutilated forms lay stacked everywhere, covered in a fine coating of dirt and wood particles that somehow made them look unreal, as if they had been there a long time and had been partially absorbed by the hill. Suddenly, there was complete silence. Jason swayed and caught himself. There was no movement except for the dancing shadows. He walked over the plowed ground, avoiding the arms, legs, and torsos of those whom he had sent back from the line for evacuation. They weren’t
just dead. They had completely ceased to exist in a flash of light. A radio with the bottom third sliced off was all that was left of the command post. Captain Kaufman, his officers, the first sergeant, the forward observers, the RTOs, the medics, all of the wounded, Harper, and Chaplain Waters were all gone. He had been walking over what was left of them.
The flare faded, like Jason’s heart, then went out, leaving the grieving officer alone in the darkness.
35
Sergeant Hammonds gathered his men in an engineer bunker and took out his notes from the hour-long meeting he had just attended. He looked over his scribbles, obviously upset, and tossed down the pad. He already knew what needed to be said. “Guys, the Second Batt is in big-time trouble, and the Fourth Batt is going in to get them out. Everybody pack your rucks tonight with all the ammo and water you can carry. We’re the first company to go in. We’ll be picked up at first light tomorrow and flown to Firebase 16. Once our company is ready, we’re humping two and a half klicks to the southwest to a hill called eight hundred-seventy-five. We’re going to link up with the Second Batt in a perimeter just a couple a hundred meters from the hilltop. They got waxed by a rear-and-flank attack this afternoon, and supposedly one company got wasted. The dinks are thick around the hill and have already knocked down six choppers and shot up a couple of others. We’re going to be the lead platoon and, yeah, we’re gonna be the lead squad. Bugs, you’ll be on point and …”
Ty stood. “I’ll walk point.”
Hammonds waved him down. “You’re out of this, Cat; you report to the Thirty-ninth tomorrow. Like I was saying, Bugs, you take point; Cowboy, you’ll be slack, and …”
Ty leaned back against the sandbags, listening but not really paying attention. He wanted to be with his friends when they went in. He knew that when he reported to his first sergeant tomorrow he would still be thinking and worrying about his old squad. It would have been different if they were on a road-clearing mission or just filling sandbags, but they weren’t. It was a big mission, they needed him. He looked around at their solemn faces and lowered his eyes, knowing the real truth. He was the one who needed them.
the Hill (1995) Page 38
