Thumper studied a paper target and shook his head. "Preacher, it's easy to see why the cowboys always beat you Indians. You only hit the target once!"
The small, brown-skinned soldier shrugged his shoulders. "David only used a sling shot."
"Yeah, well, you got a sling shot? You're gonna need something to hit the target before Childs sees this. Come on, let's try it again, but how about this time, you open your eyes, huh?"
Rose watched as two of his students set up their Claymore mines in front of a line drawn in the dirt, which represented a trail. He waited until they were finished, then faced the group of twenty men at his station.
"What you dudes just seen is exactly how not to set up a kill zone. They directed the blast of their Claymores to blow straight across the trail-wrong! The only dinks they gonna kill is the dude who stands in front of them mines.
"Looky here." Rose repositioned the crescent-shaped explosives. "If you put 'em at an angle so they blow down the trail you can kill more dinks. Plus, when you add the other team's mines, you got yourself a cross-blowing effect, and that, dudes, definitely fucks up Luke the Gook's day!"
Sergeant Gino, holding an M-16 rifle, paced back and forth in front of his group of students.
"Once you blow your Claymores, you raise up and kill anybody still standin'. Tlie thing you gotta remember is-don't shoot on automatic." He suddenly turned and fired the weapon on auto. Burrrrrrup!
"Now look what I gotta do." He pushed the magazine release, letting the empty magazine fall to die ground, and then quickly inserted another. "You see what happens if everybody shoots on automatic? You all have to change magazines at the same time! This, people, gives the dinks time to recover from the shock and start blastin' back! Remember-once you have the initiative, keep it Only two team members shoot auto. The rest shoot in the semiautomatic mode; this ensures a steady rate of fire into the kill zone. Next thing you gotta know is ... "
Childs had stood awhile observing behind Gino's class, then walked down the road to another class thirty meters away. The round-robin training was working better than he'd expected. The men were asking good questions and seemed attentive. It was a good day to be a soldier, he thought, as he stopped and listened to Russian explain methods of throwing hand grenades.
"Never throw grenade if branches are close overhead. The grenade not kill Communists ... it kill you. Toss grenade like your game-Softball, I think you say. Underhand. It don't hit branches this way. You must yell 'grenade' so comrades know to get down."
At 1400 hours Childs blew his whisde and gathered the company around him.
"Shitbirds, I heard some of you complaining 'cause you didn't eat noon chow. Rangers can never expect anything. Don't expect food, water, mail, or gettin' home in one piece. Don't expect nothin', and then you won't be disappointed. It's part of die mind game. You got to Charlie Mike-continue the mission, regardless of the odds, weather, terrain, or the enemy. You gotta Charlie Mike and drive on! Remember, shitbirds, never till the fat lady sings do you get what you expect?'
Phan Thiet
Sergeant Matt Wade stood by the Phan Thiet air terminal fence watching the plane that would take him to An Khe land. Behind him, with her back turned to him, was Virginia, seething. Since getting off the truck two hours before, they had been constantly busy. First they'd gone to flight operations to report the crash. There they were interviewed by a major to whom Wade showed, on a map, where he thought the wreck was and by which route they'd made it to the road. Later, two more officers repeated the whole debriefing process and had Matt and Ginny fill out reports about the deaths of the others. The officers had said the work was necessary so that notification of next-of-kin could begin. The major had made his jeep available and ordered them to the hospital for a screening. When they'd arrived, Wade found out he wasn't on the list of missing. The hospital administration had thought he was still in Bien Hoa and was holding a message that he was to report to An Khe immediately to join his Rangers. Virginia had torn into the orderly who delivered that message like a buzz saw. She demanded that Wade be given time to rest and recuperate. Wade dragged her out of the hospital to tell her that he had to go, that there was nothing that could be done. They'd arrived at the airfield only minutes before, and learned that a plane was about to land.
Wade pushed off the fence and put his arm over the angry woman's shoulder. "Will you please stop acting this way? I'd like to remember you with a smile."
Virginia spun around. "You know damn well you don't have to go. You deserve a rest!" Her angry eyes misted, and she hugged him tighdy. "I . . .1 wanted to be with you for awhile."
Wade walked her over to a nearby bench. "Ginny, you gotta understand something. We wouldn't be with each other anyway. I'm enlisted. I'd be placed in an observation ward till they thought I could leave. You rank as an officer and would be housed across the base in the BOQ with an armed guard at your door. I'd love to stay here if I could be with you, but the system doesn't work that way. Me leaving makes it easier, believe me. . . . Now get your head up and smile and let me see the Ginny I know."
Virginia raised her head, forcing a smile, and hugged him again. "I'm going to miss you."
Wade returned an affectionate squeeze and looked into her eyes. "You sure you wanna go on with the tour? You're going to be all right?"
She nodded confidendy. "Yes, I've got to. It was Walter's dream, and he worked hard to get me here. I'll make it okay."
Wade smiled at her determination. "You can do anything you set your mind to. I know. I've seen ya. You take care of yourself. I ... I kinda got used to ya. I'm going to miss you, and I'll damn sure never forget you."
Virginia looked sadly into his eyes. "I won't forget you either, Matt."
Wade began to turn away, but then mumbled "Ah, hell," and grabbed her. He kissed her passionately, then spun around and walked to the aircraft.
Virginia wiped her tears quickly. "Wade!"
He turned. She brought her hands up. "Click!"
He smiled, shook his head, and continued walking.
Virginia watched him disappear into the tail of the plane. "I'll always remember you, Matt. Always."
An Khe Ranger Base Camp
Childs marched the company back at 1600 hours and let them put up their gear before beginning their run. He ran them only two miles before stopping the company one-half mile away from the Ranger camp. "Shitbirds, I'm gonna let the two men who raced yesterday do it again."
The formation of men broke out into a thunderous yell of approval. Childs waited until their roar died down, then put his hands on his hips.
"But, I don't think it's fair that only two men have the opportunity for such good exercise. So, every ten seconds one maggot and one ragbag will race to the barracks. The group with the most wins eats first in the mess hall, and only runs two miles tomorrow morning. The losers run four!"
The rumbling of moans that came from the ranks only increased Childs's pleasure.
"Major Shane and First Sergeant have already run ahead and will log the winners. L-tees, organize your people and have 'em ready. We begin in one minute!"
Gibson and Avant ran down their respective formations and pulled out those most likely to win the first runs to accumulate points.
The small Indian and thin redhead walked up to a starting line that Childs had scratched out with his foot.
"On your marks ... get set.. . do it!"
The redhead sprinted ahead while the Indian held back, keeping a steady pace. The other men hollered and screamed as the first two runners bolted up the road, their sweat-streaked bodies glistening in the sunlight. The redhead reached the bottom of the hill twenty meters ahead of the Indian and leaned into the hill, churning up a cloud of dust. The Indian began picking up his pace and then broke into a sprint. Fifty meters from the barracks he sped past the redhead and took a commanding lead.
Major Shane couldn't help but yell encouragement to the two men as they neared the barracks, straining with all their mi
ght. The Indian slapped the wall five steps in front of the thin soldier and broke out into a loud war hoop. First Sergeant Demand calmly raised his clipboard and placed a mark under ragbags.
Fifteen minutes later the last two runners ran up the hill. They were Lieutenants Gibson and Avant. The maggots and ragbags lined the road hollering as Gibson began his sprint. The shaven- headed officer waited a few more paces to begin his. Avant caught Gibson just short of the barracks, but Gibson threw himself into a belly slide and banged into the barracks first.
The 173rd maggots went crazy in jubilation and quickly got their dazed leader to his feet, pounding his back, yelling and laughing.
A minute later, Childs mounted his platform holding the results of the races and scanned the anxious faces. "Shitbirds, the score is ragbags-81, 173rd maggots-84. Maggots win!"
The formation of maggots turned into pandemonium as the losers looked on in dejected silence.
Childs waited for the men to setde down, then raised his hand. The maggots quieted immediately.
"Shitbirds, you all ran hard. I didn't see a single maggot or ragbag give up. You put out one hundred percent and . . . and, well, ya done good Tomorrow the losers only have to run three miles!"
Major Shane turned his back on the happy, yelling company. Their all-out effort and proud faces had gotten to him. He had to get away or he'd do something dumb, like show his emotions. His men had run their hearts out. They were truly becoming a Ranger company.
As he strode for the mess hall, he thought of the young, gray- haired lieutenant, J. D. Gibson, who had wanted to achieve credibility with his men. He'd gotten it the moment they saw their leader straining to run up the hill, and he'd gotten much more. He and every other man who ran had earned each other's respect.
Shane pulled open the mess hall door and looked back at his company one more time. They still had a long way to go, but today he had a company of men he felt privileged to lead. They were winners.
After Lieutenant Avant handed J. D. Gibson his handkerchief, he kept his palm out. "You owe me ten dollars, cousin."
"Bullshit. We're even. I beat you."
"That wasn't the bet. The Indian won, so pay up."
'Brad, I'm bleedin' to death and all you care about is money!''
"I want my money before you die, maggot. Jesus, that was dumb, slidin' in like that. It's a wonder you didn't break your neck."
"I won, didn't I?"
"This time, cousin-this time."
The two officers entered the mess and sat down at the officer/ senior NCO table. Shane and the other officers were already half finished eating. Shane was telling Lieutenant Foley about the run. "And the Indian boy touched first. . . he yelled out a war hoop that woulda made Crazy Horse blush with envy. Lieutenant Dickey, what's that Indian's name, anyway?"
Dickey looked up, surprised to be brought into the conversation. "Sir?"
"The Indian lad that won. What's his name?"
Dickey's face turned white. "Uh, well, sir . . . he was only in Phan Thiet for two weeks and I . . . "
"You don't know his name?" growled Shane coldly.
"Sir, I didn't have time to ... "
"Don't give me excuses!" Shane stood up quickly and pointed to two soldiers wearing cammies who, he knew, were in the Third Platoon. "What are those soldiers' names?"
Dickey looked at the two men, then back at the major as if snake-bitten. "Sir, I don't know, but I... "
Shane cut him off by throwing down his napkin. "That's it. First Sergeant/"
Sergeant Demand marched quickly to the table. "Yes, sir."
Shane pointed to Dickey. "Have this officer out of my company by nightfall!"
"Yes, sir."
Dickey's face flushed, and he stood up, glaring at the major.
"Sir, I protest this humiliating treatment in front of subordinates. To be relieved of my duties because of not recalling names is ridiculous and beyond comprehension. It is most certainly based on improper grounds."
Shane's eyebrows shot up. "Lieutenant, you're relieved exactly because it is beyond your comprehension. You may appeal in writing to the next higher headquarters, as I'm sure you will, but do it when you're out of my area. Now if you would be so kind, get out of my sightV'
Dickey gave Shane a look of disdain and then strode to the mess hall door, with First Sergeant Demand at his heels. Shane took a deep breath to control his anger and looked at Avant. "Now, what is that Indian kid's name?"
"Black Eagle, sir. He's a Sioux from North Dakota and says he was an all-state miler from Wilson Indian School."
Shane picked up his fork and broke into a smile. "That kid sure can run, can't he?"
Thumper, Rose, and Russian sat in the mess hall eating when a familiar voice growled, "Move over, Three-one."
All of them immediately rose with a smile as their sergeant approached with a tray.
"Matt! About time!"
Wade hadn't realized how badly he missed his men until he felt their backslaps and handshakes. Rose looked him over as he sat down. "Man, you look like shit! Didn't them REMFs feed you?"
Wade told them the whole story and leaned back. "So, you're lucky I'm here at all. I ain't never gittin' on another medevac, that's for sure!"
Rose pounded the table. "Man, a roundeyed singer, no less! Damn, I wish it'd been me!"
Thumper had noted Wade's distant gaze as he talked about the woman. He obviously wasn't telling the entire story. Russian patted his sergeant's back. "The past is forgotten, my Sergeant. You were lucky and we are thankftil."
Rose poked Russian. "Man, he didn't bang her! What you talkin' about, thankful? If I'd been there, she wouldn ..."
Russian grabbed Rose's neck, partially lifting him from the chair. "You talk too much, crazy one."
Wade laughed. Russian and Rose would never change. Just then, First Sergeant Demand walked in and took up his usual position. "Thump," Wade said, "did Top give his usual speeches?"
Thumper raised his finger in the air, imitating Demand. "Troop-ars, cleanliness is next to Godliness and yo first sergeant is next to God. Troop-ars, wash your nasty bodies twice a day and stay away from the painted ladies of An Khe."
Wade laughed and leaned back in his chair. "He's given the same pitch to us twenty times. He's gotta get some new material."
Wade noticed Rose eyeing the young girls working behind the serving line, as was his custom. "Rose, you'd better quit leering at those dink KPs like you do. If Top sees ya lookin' at his girls, he'll bust your head for thinkin' dirty thoughts."
Rose leaned farther back in his chair to get a better look at the girls who were giggling at him. "Man, the tall one digs me. I can tell she wants the Rose, baaaaad!"
Thumper patted Rose's back. "Remember the last time we were here and you messed with one of the KPs?"
"Aw, Thump, why'd ya bring that up? Shit, man, that chick didn't know what she was doin', man."
Wade grinned, "Rose, as I remember it, she knew exactly what she was doin'. How much she steal from you anyway?"
Rose dropped his head. "Man, the chick just wanted a litde souvenir of a good time, that's all."
Russian pointed an accusing finger. "She take your money, watch, ring, and camera."
Rose shrugged his shoulders. "Hey dudes, lighten up, will ya? It was a lousy camera anyway.''
Sergeant Wade lay back on his bunk, staring at the ceiling, when Thumper walked into the room and pulled up a chair.
"You okay, Matt?"
"Sure, no sweat."
"You look beat. I thought you'd be asleep."
"Naw, I'm still on an adrenalin high. The last couple of days have finally caught up with me. Just trying to sort things out."
"Take it easy for awhile, Matt. You don't start your block of training for two days. Rest up and get your strength back."
"I'll be okay tomorrow. It just kinda got to me all at once."
"What was she like?" asked Thumper. He suspected it was more than the chopper crash keeping his fri
end awake.
The sergeant kept his gaze on the ceiling. "Ginny was alright. She was tough, but pretty as a picture. And she had these eyes you could swim in and ..." He caught himself and looked at Thumper, who stared at him as if he already knew. "Look, Thump, I liked her. Nothing happened, she just kinda got to me toward the end. It wasn't a big thing."
"Hey Matt, I understand, believe me. It's just that it's obvious it was a big thing. At least, she's kept you awake when you oughtta be sackin' it. Are you gonna try and keep in contact with her?"
"Naw, she wouldn't even know who the hell I was if I wrote."
"Come on, Sarge. You don't believe that."
the Last Run (1987) Page 16
