the Hill (1995)

by Scott, Leonard B

  It was over in five seconds. The NVA did not return a single shot. Jason quickly changed magazines. “Come on, we’re gettin’ out of here.

  The marine fighter-bomber swept in low and released its bomb. The 500-pounder whistled toward the dark earth. Jason lifted Ty toward the hole when suddenly the ground shook beneath them, Ty fell backward and immediately both men were covered in dirt.

  “What?” the senior sergeant yelled into the phone, unable to hear over the bomb explosions. “Yes, yes, I can hear you now. What did you say before?” He listened for a few seconds and stiffened. “Are you sure it was the sound of Yankee rifles?… Yes, yes I believe you; my corporal should have called by now. Send a squad into the trenches above the bunker and fire several flares. Yes, I know it is dangerous, but you must be sure the Yankees are not infiltrating. Place guards at the entrance to the tunnel and stop those who have taken the bunker from going any farther.… NO, don’t send anybody else in. I will report this to the colonel and see what his orders are.”

  Ty dug dirt from his nose and mouth and took in a frantic breath. Jason sat up beside him gagging and spitting. Artillery rounds were raining in above them, shaking the ground. Ty lay back in the sweet-smelling soil and felt incredibly weak. He felt as if a giant were squeezing and twisting his insides. Jason brushed off his rifle and lay down beside him. “We can’t go anywhere for a while. Hang with me, Ty, we’re gonna make it.”

  Ty dropped his submachine gun and grabbed Jason’s arm as another tremor tore through him.

  Book Man couldn’t move another inch and screamed toward the perimeter, “Help us!”

  A voice only a few feet away responded, causing the slight soldier to jump. “Good thing you yelled or you’d be history, Mac. We thought you was gooks sneakin’ up on us.”

  Ten minutes later, Book Man was looking up into the face of Major Shelly. “Soldier, bringing two wounded back was a heroic action,” Shelly was saying. “But I can’t let you or anybody else go back for the others. Lieutenant Johnson knew when he went out what his odds were. I’m sorry.”

  Book Man got up slowly and looked at the dark outline of the hill that was being pounded by artillery. “Why, sir? Why is that hill so damn important?”

  Shelly lowered his head, feeling sick. He didn’t have an answer.

  39

  Jason bit his lip and repositioned his throbbing leg. His calf felt as if it were on fire. He glanced at Ty, who was lying just inside the storeroom. Ty’s face was ash gray. The artillery made impact with thunderous cracks, but the vibrating of the ground seemed to have no effect on him. Jason took a drink from an NVA canteen, then offered the tin bottle to Ty. “Drink the rest of it, you need the fluids.”

  Ty weakly took the canteen with shaking hands. “We … we aren’t going … going to make it.”

  Jason shifted his eyes back to the tunnel. “The battalion will be attacking soon. They’ll find us. Don’t worry. Close your eyes and rest. We’re going to need our energy to yell like hell when they get close. We don’t want them to toss in a couple of grenades on us.”

  Ty shut his eyes, but the sharp pain caused him to grind his teeth.

  Major Shelly fought the dryness in his mouth and forced himself to speak. “The attack has been called off until tomorrow. Brigade has decided to blow the hill apart for the whole day before the Fourth Batt tries to take it again.”

  Lieutenant Shiler exchanged glances with McDonald. “Wonder why they didn’t think of that two days ago,” he muttered. “Are they going to bring some more water in? The little they brought in yesterday wasn’t nearly enough. The men have had it.”

  Shelly ignored the first comment, knowing the officer was exhausted. “Brigade lost ten choppers around this damn hill. The priority is on ammo and getting the wounded out. They’ll probably bring the water later.”

  McDonald shook his head and looked up at sky, trying to hold back his emotions. “Two more of the wounded from the Fourth Batt bled to death this morning. I can’t stand this anymore.” He broke into tears. “I … I can’t stand it.”

  Colonel Huu brushed the dust from his uniform and walked into the briefing room. None of the tired men seated at the small table stood. It was no time for ceremony.

  He glanced at their gaunt faces and cleared his throat. “General Duc has ordered our withdrawal. We are not to leave anything for the Americans. All our comrades’ bodies will be taken to the storage areas and the tunnels destroyed. The Americans must not find a single body. Nothing can allow them to claim victory. The withdrawal will begin immediately through the east tunnel. The outer ring will pull back now, the middle ring in thirty minutes, and the command and center ring will withdraw at fifteen hundred hours. Comrades, leave nothing and ensure the tunnels’ entrances are destroyed. That is all, except to say I am proud of every one of you.”

  As the weary men rose and hurried toward the tunnel corridors, Sergeant Ninh approached the colonel. “Comrade, the infiltrators are still cornered in the access tunnel to Bunker 1. Should I attack now and destroy them?”

  Huu stared blankly at the earthen wall. “What would be the cost?”

  Ninh’s eyes slowly lowered. “Four, maybe six men before we could overcome them.”

  Huu motioned for his operations officer and spoke softly to the young sergeant. “No. If they still live, so be it. Enough of our men have died. Withdraw immediately.” Huu placed his hand on the operations officer’s shoulder. “Everyone is to withdraw except the mortar crews on the ridge behind the complex. They only are to remain and fire when the Yankees attack. That will be the last of the killing. The men who held this hill have done enough.”

  Jason’s head snapped up and he looked at his watch. Damn it, he’d been out for forty-five minutes. He could hardly focus his eyes anymore, he was so tired. He leaned over and wiped sweat from Ty’s forehead. “You still hangin’ tough?”

  Ty slowly opened his eyes. “Ja … Jay, I’m not gonna make it.” Tears welled up and trickled down the sides of his face. “I … I can’t move anymore.”

  Jason’s chin quivered and he took the chain from around his neck. He lifted Ty’s head and put the chain around his neck. He held up the wings. “Look here, brother, the wings; they’re lucky,remember? Ten jumps between us and not a scratch. You hang tough. We’re Red Hill Paratroopers, remember?”

  Ty smiled weakly and lifted his hand to touch the silver badge. He looked at Jason and spoke thickly. “Take care of mom, Jay. I’m the third one she’s lost this way, ya know.…” His eyelids fluttered. “Take care … care of my hill.”

  Jason clenched his teeth and fought back the tears. “You’ll take care of it yourself. Don’t give up on me now. Ty … Ty, you can’t give up now.”

  Ty’s eyes slowly closed. “I … I love you … Jay.”

  Jason shook as tears streamed down his face. “NO! YOU’RE NOT DYING ON ME, YOU PROMISED! YOU’RE GOING HOME … YOU HEAR ME? YOU’RE GOING HOME!” Jason tossed his rifle away and picked Ty up in his arms. He stood, pitched over, and got to his feet again. “You’re going home, brother.”

  The forward observer looked through his binoculars at the hill and watched the impact of his adjusted artillery rounds. He raised the radio handset without lowering the glasses. “Right five zero, drop five … what the hell?”

  He leaned forward with the handset bar still depressed. “Holy shit! CEASE FIRE, CEASE FIRE!”

  The young artillery officer spun around and yelled toward the command post, “WE GOT FRIENDLIES COMING IN!”

  Jason stumbled to his knees and talked aloud as he forced himself up. “We love it. It ain’t gonna get better. Fuck ’em; we can hang, no matter what. We’re crazy, Ty. We’re Red Hill Paratroopers.… We’re gonna make it.”

  Major Shelly stood and saw a big blond soldier limping over the debris-covered ridge, carrying a man in his arms. “Goddamn it, put covering fire out for them! SHOOT DAMN IT!”

  Jason didn’t flinch as rifle and machine-gun bullets cracked past o
n both sides of him. He kept moving, ignoring the pain in his leg, and set his eyes to the front. “We bad, Ty, real bad. We can take anything; they can’t kill us. You’re going home.”

  A medic ran forward and met Jason as he limped into the perimeter. “I’ll take him, sir … sir!… sir, put him down and let me see him!”

  Jason brushed by the medic and kept moving down the slope to where a resupply bird was coming in.

  Major Shelly ran up to Jason. “You crazy bastard, you made it! The old man will want to see you and … Jason? Jason, stop walking and put him down for the medics … Jason, stop!”

  Jason ignored the officer. “They have a bird for you, Ty, they’re gonna take you back and fix you up and then fly ya home. Mom will fix you sausage and gravy.”

  He limped up to the whining helicopter that was being loaded with wounded and set Ty on the vibrating floor. Shelly grabbed Jason’s arm and spun him around. “Snap out of it, Lieutenant! I need a report on what you saw in the tunnel.”

  The crew chief leaned over the put his fingers on Ty’s neck.

  Jason stared through the major and spoke in a snarl.

  The crew chief frowned and grabbed Ty’s fatigue sleeve, pulling him toward the door. Jason turned around just as the chief spoke to an approaching litter team.

  “This one’s dead. Give me a live one—we don’t haul stiffs!”

  Jason grabbed the crew chief’s hands, stopping him from tossing out his brother’s body. “He’s alive and he’s going home; he promised!”

  Major Shelley waved the crew captain back and nodded to the pilot to take off. He pushed Jason toward the bird. “Get on!”

  Shelley stepped back as the chopper shook and began to lift off. He lowered his head and turned to avoid the biting dust. “Take him home, Lieutenant. At least someone knows what they’re doing!”

  The triage doctor walked past a row of waiting wounded and knelt beside the soldier a litter team had just set down. He felt for a pulse. “This one didn’t make … wait a sec!” He lifted his stethoscope and pushed back the paratrooper’s fatigue shirt. He listened for a few seconds and spoke over his shoulder to his assisting male nurse. “Get me ringers started here stat! He goes in now!”

  The doctor didn’t notice the large officer lying on the ground beside the wounded man, holding his hand.

  Book Man walked down the rows of wounded and stopped beside the eleventh cot. Bugs’s eyes shifted to the visitor. “Book! God, I didn’t think I’d see anybody before they shipped me out. You ain’t hurt, are you?”

  Book Man tiredly sat down on the end of the cot and pushed his glasses back on his nose. “No, I’m fine. I just wanted to see if everybody made it okay. Hammonds was shipped to Japan, and they say you’re going, too.”

  Bugs lifted his head toward the opening of the tent. “Where’s Surf? And what about Cat?”

  Book Man lowered his head. “Surf didn’t make it. Yesterday the Fourth Batt attacked the hill, and us guys in the Second Batt evacuated the wounded. Surf was hit by a mortar round.”

  Bugs closed his eyes, fighting the queasy emptiness he felt in the pit of his stomach. “And Cat?”

  Book Man stared at his filthy hands. “It doesn’t look good. They shipped him to Japan the same day he came in. He was tore up real bad inside.”

  Bugs clenched his fists tightly. “How many fuckers did we kill on that stinkin’ hill?”

  Book Man stood up, knowing that only a few bodies had been found. An accountability formation had determined that of the 540 men who went up the hill from the two battalions, less than 200 were able to walk back down the ridge, and many of those were walking wounded. He extended his hand. “It doesn’t matter. They say in Stars and Stripes we won. Take care, Bugs. I was proud to be in the family … you’re going to be one helluva postman.”

  The staff officers let the solemn General Duc walk ahead. He would want to be alone. The old soldier stepped through the powdery dust and stopped at the hill’s crest. The tree he used to sit beside was gone, obliterated like the others. The hilltop was nothing but a desolate, barren scar. The leafless, battered trees farther down the slope were the only signs that life had once existed.

  This battlefield would never have a monument erected on it, he knew. Years from now, no visitors would want to come back for the memories. To the politicians, Hill eight hundred seventy-five was already forgotten. It had no more value, no special significance that made it different from other countless hills in his country; it was just another hill. The blood spilled meant nothing, nothing except to him and the men who had fought here.

  He sat down on a fallen tree and listened to the silence. He listened as if he could still faintly hear the rumble of artillery, the chatter of machine guns, the screaming men. Only the survivors would understand and remember. Only those who fought on the hill would be able to hear the sounds in the wind.

  The general lowered his head, knowing time would allow his heart to mend, but like this hill, he, too, would never be the same. He would never forget his old friend or his fallen men. The sounds in the wind would be with him forever.

  40

  Jason moaned as he writhed on the wet sheets. The screams were getting louder. Mediiiiic … MEDIIIIIC! They’re attacking! Bring those guns up! He’s dead, sir! INCOMING! Wa … water, please, sir. THE FLANKS! Oh, God! His guts are falling out! Help meeeee! Please help me, L-tee. I … I can’t feel my feet.

  He groaned and bolted upright, covering his ears to stop the pathetic cries.

  Mea wiped his forehead with a cool washcloth and gently pushed him down. “Lay back, honey,” she said softly. “Everything is all right. We’re here.”

  Jason’s eyes focused. “I’m sorry, Mom.”

  Duane leaned over. “Don’t worry about a thing, son. You’re home now.”

  Jason took his mother’s hand and sat up again. “I didn’t mean to wake the whole house.” He patted the cast on his lower leg. “I guess I shoulda stayed a little longer in the hospital. This thing still hurts like hell.”

  Duane sat down on the bed and put his arms around his son’s shoulders. “You had to be home for Christmas. We’re a family.”

  Jason patted his dad’s back and got out of bed. “Go on. Everybody get back in bed. I’m fine. The pain just got to me. I’m gonna take a couple a painkillers and watch TV until I get tired.”

  Duane left, knowing he wanted to be alone, but Jason noticed his mother’s searching stare as she continued to stand there. He waved her away. “Go on, I’m fine. Really.”

  Mea nodded in silence and handed him the crutches. Jason absently tossed them to the bed. The cast had a rubber pad on the bottom and he preferred to walk. “Thanks, they just get in the way. Go to bed, Mom.”

  Mea let him pass her before remarking uncertainly, “I thought your leg hurt.”

  Jason looked guiltily over his shoulder. “Please, Mom, go to bed.”

  In the darkness, Jason sat in his brother’s chair and began rocking. The blinking cedar tree’s lights reminded him that Ty wouldn’t be home in time for Christmas.

  Jason set his shoulders. He had to try. He hadn’t been able to look at Red Hill without thinking of eight hundred seventy-five. The sight of the cabin made him think there was hope. It brought back warm memories. Walking up the path, he tried to keep his thoughts on those days when he and Ty were building the cabin, but the barren trees ahead brought him other, more powerful memories. He broke into a sweat despite the cold wind whipping his face. Unconsciously, he looked left, then right, checking the sides of the trail for a place to take cover if …

  He reached the huge trees and halted. Beneath their gnarled branches the wounded lay in ragged rows. They were all looking at him with pleading ashen faces. “Help us … help us, pleeease.”

  He shook uncontrollably. There were Bagley, Reddy, Ferguson, Sawyer. Chaplain Waters looked up and smiled sadly. “Jay, you have any water to spare?”

  Sergeant Harper stood holding a canteen cup. “Got an
y coffee, L-tee?”

  Jason clamped his eyes shut, but then he heard the mortars landing with their sickening, ear-shattering WHABOOM!… WHABOOM!… “Medic! Mediiiic!”

  A fighter streaked overhead and artillery rumbled in the distance. “THEY’RE COMING! COME ON, MOTHERFUCKERRRRRS!”

  He turned around and walked quickly down the trail, avoiding the bodies littering the path. He didn’t want to touch the ghosts of the past.

  Sheriff Hamby got out of his cruiser and walked up the back steps. He knocked and smiled when Mea opened the door. “Howdy, Mea, is Jason home?”

  Minutes later, Jason sat in the front seat of the sheriff’s car. “Cliff, now explain to me again why you want me to talk to this drunken soldier you picked up.”

  Hamby pulled out of the driveway. “There ain’t no drunk GI. That was just a story to get ya out of the house so your mom wouldn’t ask questions. I picked you up as a favor for somebody.”

  Jason looked at him questioningly. “What the heck you talkin’ about?… Why we goin’ this way? Town is back there. Cliff, what’s going on?”

  Hamby kept his eyes straight ahead. “You’ll see. Just sit back and relax. In just a few minutes, you’ll know.”

  Hamby pulled off the highway onto the dirt road and a minute later rolled the car to a stop in front of the cabin. He motioned toward the hilltop. “He’s waiting for you up there. I don’t know why he wanted it this way, but it’s important to him. He wanted to see you before he saw the rest of the family. Go on. He’s waiting.”

  Jason began trembling, “Ty? Ty is here?” He threw open the door. “He wasn’t supposed to be home until the fifth. Cliff, this isn’t a joke of some …”

  Hamby shifted into reverse. “He’s waitin’, son.”

  Still wearing the cast, Jason walked as fast as he could. He didn’t think about the past or hear anything but the wind as he strode up the hill.