the Last Run (1987)

by Leonard B Scott

  Avant felt too weak to speak. He merely motioned his men to the barracks. The company dissolved slowly, leaving a single soldier who had fallen to his knees. Black Eagle lifted his arms and looked skyward. He had raised his wings to soar above the pain in his body, to fly with his happy heart above the misery and ache. He chanted the warrior ancestors' song of victory. Before, he had always sang silently. Smaller than most of his red brothers, he was considered weak and his words were not heard. His academic successes and track awards meant nothing to his proud people, who lived in the glory of the past. He had dropped out of Trinity Bible College to become a warrior like his ancestors, for only to the words of a warrior would his people listen.

  Today he had fallen in the struggle but was lifted by a warrior of another color, whose spirit had given him renewed strength to win his battle of faith.

  Black Eagle knew there would be more battles to fight, but now there was another eagle to soar with him.

  Matt Wade sat with his team on the floor of the barracks. As he stretched out his sore legs and leaned back against the wall, Russian's dog, Bitch, pranced over for an approving pat. Wade stroked the small animal's head affectionately. "That was it," he said. "That was the last of Childs's torture chamber. It'll all be downhill from here on out. Childs will ease up on PT so the men can get their strength back and concentrate more on training."

  Rose lay back against his bunk. "Good thing, man. I'm as beat as they are, and I didn't even carry a ruck. Man, I looked at a Playboy the other night and pinned up the food advertisements. It ain't right when ya think more about food and sleep than you do poontang."

  The dog left Wade and sat on Rose's lap. "Russian, Bitch is fatter than ever. Ain't she in training, too?"

  The Russian grunted and snapped his fingers. Bitch came to him immediately. "Litde one is a Ranger, like us."

  "Yeah, but we ain't got but two meals a day. How does she rate?"

  "The KPs feed her."

  Thumper sat up worriedly. "Russian, you'd better watch the dinks around that dog. Rose and I were in Phan Thiet one time and saw this dog get hit by a truck. The Vietnamese had that squashed mongrel hung up and skinned in two seconds. This guy brought out a blowtorch and started cookin' it on the spot. The dinks were crowdin' around all laughing and jumping around like it was Christmastime." Thumper looked at Wade and winked. "Come to think of it, guess who was jumping around with the dinks, waitin' to chow down."

  Rose started pushing away from Russian and looking for a fast exit. "Hey Thump, man, I just had a little bite ..."

  Russian hugged the dog protectively and snarled at Rose. "You do this?"

  "Well, hell, Russian, I just wanted to ... It was just a little bite and . . . "

  Russian grabbed Rose's leg and pulled Rose to him. "You no touch litde one again!"

  Private First Class Peteroski ran down the hill and pulled open the barracks door. On the floor in front of him, Russian held Rose down so Bitch could lick his face. Seigeant Wade and Thumper were laughing uproariously as Russian scolded, "Do not lick him! Bite him! He eat your brother!"

  Pete shook his head in bewilderment and spoke excitedly. "Come on, Matt, the old man is looking for you. We got a call and you're flying out tonight!"

  Russian released his hold and let Rose up as Wade got to his feet.

  "Settle down, Pete. What's this all about?"

  "We got a call from Corps about you savin' some singer. The old man told 'em he didn't know anything about it and they musta had the wrong unit. Well, some colonel got on the line and really let the ol* man have it. Major Shane wants you right now!"

  "Aw, shit!" said Wade, shaking his head.

  Thumper stood and put his arm over his sergeant's shoulder. "You didn't tell them what happened?"

  "It was no big thing. I didn't think it was ..."

  "Come on, Sarge!" said Pete, holding the door open.

  Major Shane leaned forward in his chair. "So you're telling me crashing in a chopper and saving a young woman's life was no big thing?"

  Wade shrugged his shoulders apologetically. "Sir, we were only fifteen clicks from the road and ..."

  "Never mind, Wade. It doesn't matter. I understand." Shane walked around the desk and put his arm around the worried sergeant. "But next time do us a favor and tell us when you crash in a chopper, okay? Top, you'd better get him to the airfield."

  Shane extended his hand. "Sergeant Wade, I'm just sorry I can't be there for the ceremony."

  Wade shook hands, relieved that his commander wasn't angry with him, but before he even released his grip, First Sergeant grabbed his arm roughly. "Come on, He-ro. You got a plane to catch."

  Two hours later the Huey settled down on the concrete runway at Nha Trang airfield, where a captain was waiting with a jeep for Wade. The cool evening air was blowing off the ocean and felt good to Wade as they drove to a hotel next to the headquarters.

  The Captain, who was the public affairs officer for Corps, explained that the award ceremony would be at 10 a. M. the following morning. The Corps commander himself would award the Soldier's Medal. Wade fought to stay awake as he listened to the itinerary, which would begin when the captain picked him up at 0900.

  Wade left the Captain and walked into the plush room alone. He headed direcdy for the bed, but immediately noticed a wine botde in a bucket of ice on the nightstand. A card rested against the silver bucket. Wade sat down on the bed and picked up the card. "Thanks again!" it said and was signed, "Virginia, Sophia Wolinski, the best little singer in Southeast Asia."

  Wade smiled and lay back on the bed. No tellin' how she called from whatever fire base she was at to do this, but knowing her, if anyone could find a way, she could.

  . Wade shut his eyes, too tired to think any more about her, and dozed off in exhausted sleep.

  The still, sultry night air was alive with the sound of crickets as Sergeant Gino walked up the road toward the white motel. He glanced at the luminous hands of his watch. The sergeant was upset with himself. It was after eleven, and he should have been in bed a good hour ago. He'd made the rounds of the barracks and stopped off at Selando's room for a quick beer. He'd ended up drinking four and shot the shit for over an hour. Damn, he thought to himself, I need sleep to keep up with these young kids, not beer.

  As he approached the hootch door, all thoughts stopped. The familiar sound of the crickets had been momentarily replaced by a distant, but distinctive, metallic thunk.

  Gino froze, hoping he'd imagined it, but he heard the noise again: thunk.

  "Oh, shiiiit! The sergeant spun around and yelled at the top of his lungs, "Incoming! Incoming!"

  His warning was still echoing off the barracks walls as he heard the faraway sound again. "Thunk. . . . Thunk." Gino ran for a nearby bunker. At least, he thought, he wasn't the only one who wouldn't be getting any sleep for awhile.

  Black Eagle stirred in his sleep when someone ran by his bed screaming, "Mortar attack! Hit the floor!"

  Black Eagle turned over, mumbling to himself that it was all just part of a bad dream, but something in him couldn't completely deny the reality of the warning.

  Within the darkness of the small barracks, panic-stricken men began yelling and running in every direction for protection. Black Eagle's stomach tightened with fear and his chest refused to bring in enough air to breathe, but still he didn't come awake. He dreamed he was falling from a plane at night without a parachute. Death was coming but he couldn't see the ground to know when.

  Forty yards behind the barracks, an ear-shattering explosion finally shook him into reality. He flung himself to the floor as dirt and gravel debris pelted the tin roof like a metal hailstorm. Dust, knocked free from the ceiling and walls, filled the barracks with a choking cloud. He coughed and gasped and tried to dig himself direcdy into the cement floor. The thunderous second explosion seemed farther away but the plywood walls and tin roof creaked and moaned in agony.

  Private First Class Woody Stecker knew he was hit. He lay s
tunned beside a metal conex container, feeling his blood run down his face and back. He didn't know where he was hit or how bad but by the blood loss he figured he wouldn't ever see the sun again. His body was covered by a light coating of dirt and he felt strangely peaceful. He couldn't hear anything but a loud ringing and wondered if his eardrums were punctured. It didn't matter- he was dying anyway. He shut his eyes and thought about what he'd done wrong to get himself killed this way. He'd jumped up, hearing the warning yell, and had run out the back door. The steel conex looked like a good place to hide but he couldn't dig his way under the damn thing. The round had hit only twenty yards away while he was digging. It had tossed him up, then slammed him down. Now he couldn't feel a thing but sticky fluid running down the back of his head. Shit, he thought, it's blood. Not only that, but my legs don't work, my arms won't move, and God, I must look horrible. They'll probably puke when they find me. Funniest damn thing, though, I'm dying and suddenly all I want is some French fries or chicken fried steak or fried okra or. . .

  Childs stood on the road looking down the hill toward the camp. The first two mortar rounds had made impact in crunching blasts of white, orange light just behind the Third and Second Platoon's barracks. Childs had heard the warning yell from Gino and had run out his hootch door, counting seconds to himself. He'd gotten to nineteen when the shells hit. The second volley would tell him if his Rangers were in trouble. The unseen gunners could adjust the range slighdy and wreak havoc and destruction upon the camp. An explosion to his far right caused him to relax. TTiey weren't adjusting on the camp. The round had hit in the open field between the Ranger camp and the Red Cross compound. It was random shooting, intended for harassment more than anything else. A second explosion followed close behind the first, almost in the identical spot. TWo guns, thought Childs. They'd probably fire one more volley and hightail-it out.

  Major Shane ran from the bunker to check the camp, but noticed Childs and slowed to a walk. He stopped beside the sergeant and looked at the distant guard towers. They were bathed in dull yellow light from flares popping high overhead. TWo more explosions erupted close to the Red Cross compound. The tower machine guns ratded and their red tracers streaked into the blackness.

  Childs motioned toward the distant machine guns. "Those idiots on the perimeter are wastin' good ammo. The way they're shooting, they must think two dink divisions are attackin'. Them dinks skated after lobbing those last rounds. They'll be halfway to North Vietnam in an hour. Them little bastards are smart. They know to drop only two or three volleys. Scrambled choppers would spot their signature."

  Shane smiled for a second, thankful to have the old veteran, then became serious. "Jerry, what were you doing standing out here, like that? Hell, you didn't know where that second volley was going to land."

  Childs shrugged his shoulders. "It ain't my time yet." Childs began walking down the hill so as not to have to discuss the matter any further. He didn't know how to explain it any better, but somehow he honesdy knew he was in no danger. The sergeant took several steps and spoke over his shoulder. "Tell you one thing, though. The dinks did us a favor."

  "How's that?" asked Shane.

  Childs snickered as he continued walking. "They reminded our shitbirds we still got us a war goin' on."

  A flashlight shone direcdy into Woody Stecker's face and blinded him. "Damn, man, you hurt? You're a fucking mess."

  The redhead heard nothing, but he was happy someone had finally found him. At least he would die knowing they'd found his body.

  Childs walked up beside Rose, who was holding the flashlight. "Is he hurt?"

  Rose bent over the soldier and shook his head. "Naw, he's just stunned. But the mess sergeant sure gonna be pissed. Shrapnel tore through the conex and ripped open his big cans of cooking oil. It's all over the dude."

  Childs bent over the redhead. "What the hell you doin' out here? The bunker is beside the barracks, dummy. You was lucky this time. The shrapnel missed your head by only a foot."

  Stecker looked up at Childs as if he was speaking Chinese.

  Rose shook his head. "I don't think he can hear ya, Sarge."

  Childs stood up and put his hands on his hips. "Get the dumb shit to the medics and have 'em check him out. . . . Then get him cleaned up. Christ, he smells like an oily sardine."

  Chapter 10

  Nha Trang

  Matt Wade rolled over and immediately opened his eyes. There was someone in bed with him. The lights were out, and he remembered he hadn't turned them off.

  He thought at first it was just his imagination, but as he came fully awake, he definitely felt an arm over his waist and a warm body next to him. It had to be a prostitute sent up by the captain, but the light fragrance she wore was certainly not Vietnamese. Wade turned his head slowly to get a look at her when the girl snuggled closer and giggled.

  Wade hopped up immediately and pounced on her. "You crazy lady! What the hell you doin' here?"

  Virginia fought his grip, laughing and kicking her feet. She freed her hands. "Click! I got you."

  Wade got up and turned on the light. "Damn you, Ginny, you scared the hell out of me."

  She was wearing a camouflage jumpsuit and jungle boots like his. She raised up to her elbows. "I see you still sleep in your clothes. Your language hasn't improved any either. You miss me?"

  Wade looked at his watch; it was a quarter to twelve. "It's midnight, for God's sake! What are you doing here?"

  "Answer my question and I'll answerers."

  Wade sighed. "Yeah, I missed ya . . . kinda."

  Virginia smiled. "Same here. That's why I came. I can't let my hero get a medal without my being there, can I?"

  "Yeah, but you put me in for the medal. That was a dumb thing to do."

  She snapped tartly, "It was not. You deserved it."

  Wade smiled when he saw the anger in her eyes. "Alright, Ginny, thank you. How'd ya get in here, anyway?"

  Virginia's eyes narrowed. He looked into them. She shook her head and got up.

  "You know, I've done nothing but think about you. When I came up and saw your door open, I almost cried from happiness. You were lying here so peaceful I... I, Matt, tell me you really missed me, too."

  Wade put his arms over her small shoulders.

  "I missed you a lot, Ginny. I didn't think I'd ever see you again. I'm glad you came."

  Virginia stared at him for a moment, then hugged him tightly. "God, you feel good. I think I became addicted to sleeping with you in die jungle."

  Wade returned her hug, wanting desperately to kiss her, but not sure whether he should. She pushed away from him and walked toward the door. Wade sighed inwardly with relief. "I'll see you in the morning for breakfast and ..."

  She reached the door, but turned off the light instead. "No you won't. You're going to hold me all night like before. I need you to hold me, Matt."

  "Ginny, I. . . "

  The sound of her jumpsuit being unzipped sent chills up his back. "Are you sure, Ginny? I can't promise you ..."

  'Yes I'm sure... but how the hell do I get out of these boots?''

  Wade laughed and reached out in the darkness. "Come here."

  13 September

  At 1000 hours, the Corps adjutant came to attention. "Attention to orders. By direction of the Secretary of the Army, Sergeant Matthew R. Wade, 427-48-5001, is hereby awarded the Soldier's Medal for . . . "

  Virginia stood smiling among a group of officers and photographers assembled on the lawn adjacent to the headquarters. General Wayland stood in front of the bereted sergeant who, except for a sparkle in his eyes as he looked at Ginny, showed no emotion.

  "... displayed exceptional courage and reflects great credit upon himself, his unit, and the United States Army. Signed, John B. Minzer, Secretary of the Army."

  Wayland stepped forward, pinned the medal on Wade's shirt- pocket flap, and shook hands. "Congratulations, Sergeant. You can be very proud of this. Now smile and face the cameras for the people back hom
e."

  Wade forced a smile. He could hardly wait for the ceremony to end. It was taking so long, and he hardly had any time left with Ginny as it was.

  The photographers had the general pin the medal on two more times before they were finally satisfied. Then the officers came by and shook haiids, but Wade didn't see their faces. Ginny had disappeared, and he was looking for her. When the crowd finally dispersed, leaving him on the platform with only the PAO captain, he located her under a banyan tree, where she was being interviewed by a group of correspondents.

  Wade came up behind the group and motioned for her to come to him.

  She smiled brighdy and excused herself as she waded through the men to the sergeant.