Soldiers of the general's security platoon turned around as they heard the American rifle's report and began raking the ledge.
"It don't mean nothin'," said Gibson as he stood up to get a better shot. He ignored die bullets cracking by his ears as he braced the weapon against the tree. His target was clearly visible as he held half a breath and squeezed the trigger. The small projectile slammed into the general's side and knocked him over.
Gibson was beginning to drop back down when he was knocked backward as if he'd been hit in the face with a baseball. He fell to the ground, feeling nothing, then sat up quickly. Russian was crawling back to him, yelling. "Lie down! Lie down!" When Gibson put his hand up to check his face, blood spurted over his arm. He tried to speak but somehow the words wouldn't form. His mouth wasn't working.
Wade and Rose waited for the four NVA running up the side of the slope to come within ten meters of them, then rose up shooting. The shocked men were knocked down instandy. Rose tossed a gas grenade down the slope and he and Wade began running.
Russian quickly wrapped his parachute scarf around Gibson's lower face and yanked him to his feet. The AK-47 round had passed through the lieutenant's lower jaw and exited out his upper right cheek. His tongue wasn't hit so he wasn't choking, but his lower jaw and back teeth were destroyed, and the upper teeth were grotesquely exposed by the open wound.
Gibson was stunned, but stayed on his feet as Russian pulled him along up the slope.
Woodpecker sprayed the NVA rushing across the open campground as Thumper pumped round after round of 79-fire into huddled groups of them.
The NVA seemed confused and were firing wildly. Woodpecker changed his rate of fire to short bursts, making every shot count. When he saw Russian helping the lieutenant up the hill, he realized he had to buy them more time.
Three men ran up the slope, firing at the place where Russian had been. Woodpecker calmly swung the barrel of his M-60 and stitched them all.
Thumper tapped his leg, motioned to his grenade, and handed one to Woodpecker. They both pulled the pins and tossed them down into the camp. After the explosions, the two men pulled the pins of gas grenades and threw them. The grenades were still in the air as they ran.
Colonal Sy pressed himself against the outcrop, afraid to move. The gas was choking him and his eyes were burning as if touched by hot coals. Lieutenant Huy lay a few feet away in a large pool of blood, his face ashen white. The camp was in chaos. Men coughed, gagged, and screamed. Some lay wounded; others fired wildly at the ledge above him. Fragments of rock fell like rain all around. The deadly machine gun fire from above had ended, but two explosions had killed and maimed still more of his men. When the crescendo of firing finally decreased, three men ran to where he stood.
Sy felt his own fear dissolve as he looked into their terrified faces. He knew he had to be strong and give them direction. "You," he pointed at the first soldier, "find the general and see if he is hurt. You others gather the able-bodied and have them help the wounded. Post sentries, but do not follow the attackers. I will call for help to find them."
The three men left to follow their orders as Sy ran to the field phones and rang the handle to the Thirty-third Regiment. He looked across the valley at the billowing black clouds of destruction, knowing no one would answer.
Senior Sergeant Tran Quy and his platoon stood on the mountain trail staring in morbid fascination at the destruction of the Forty-second and Thirty-ninth Regiments. The bombs were carpeting the rain forest and made occasional hits in the open valley. The white-orange flashes and the violent upheaval of dirt and debris were strangely hypnotic. With each explosion, the ground seemed to lurch upward, as if in pain. The spreading circles of deadly shock waves were clearly visible. The sound would reach them a few seconds later. A voice over the radio handset broke the radio operator's trance. He handed Quy the handset. The excited voice told him that the general's headquarters was under ground attack. He was to proceed direcdy to die camp and find the enemy. Quy quickly briefed his men and began jogging down the slope. They were only a few hundred meters from the stream and die headquarters was only five hundred meters beyond.
After one look at Lieutenant Gibson's wound, Wade knew he was now in charge. He pointed at Rose and Woodpecker. "Get in position down the slope aways and shoot anything that moves! Preacher, get the radio from the lieutenant and get us some Guns support in here!"
Wade changed magazines while Thumper rewrapped Gibson's face with a sterile bandage. The sergeant nodded at Russian. "Tell Toan to help the L-tee while we're moving."
Preacher held up the handset. "Guns inbound. They need a smoke to mark our location."
Thumper finished tying off the bandage and pulled a star cluster round from his leg pocket. "I'll mark with this." The big soldier opened the breech of the M-79 and slipped in the shell. Wade nodded and Thumper raised the weapon and fired.
The shell exploded two hundred feet above them, releasing three miniature glowing red stars.
Preacher gave the location of the NVA camp from the cluster and picked up his weapon. "They're inbound!"
Wade yelled at Rose and Woodpecker. "Come on, we're moving!" The first gunship lowered its nose and released four rockets that spiraled toward the earth.
Colonel Sy felt weak and helpless as he watched Private Nuu and the general carried into the communications cave. They both had been wounded badly. Sy was stepping over other wounded to see what he could do for the general when he heard the approaching helicopter. He threw himself toward the cave entrance and rolled just as the ground behind him erupted in a series of vehement explosions.
The ensuing screams of the wounded and dying outside the cave tore through his heart like saber slashes. He shook uncontrollably and couldn't stop from crying. Someone touched his head. He jerked up, looking into Private Nuu's anguished face. The young soldier had sat up and reached out his hand in desperation. "Am ... am I dying?"
Forgetting his own fear, Sy took the boy's hand and looked at his ugly leg and side wounds. Both would be painful, but were clean exit wounds. Sy patted the boy's hand and forced a smile. "You will live to tell your children of this day. Rest, my friend. Soon you will be going home."
Sy released the boy's hand and stood to find the general, when he heard the approach of another helicopter making its rocket pass.
Sergeant Zubeck smiled at Charlie, his radio operator. "Man, the Air Force really did a J-O-B on them suckers, didn't they?"
Charlie was about to answer when they both heard someone splashing through the stream. Zubeck raised up just as one of his team members detonated the Claymores.
Sergeant Quy had waded into the stream, followed by his radioman, and was about to turn around to tell his men to spread out when he was knocked back into the water by a violent blast.
He gagged under the water and fought fo his feet, but his right leg buckled under him in pain. He fell back as the water kicked up in miniature fountains of bullet spray. Three of Quy's men lay dead on the bank, and a fourth was wounded. The rest of the platoon was still strung out along the slope. They immediately hit the ground and returned a devastating barrage of fire toward the ambushers. Quy surfaced again, supported by his left leg. Beside him, his radioman floated face down. Dark red blood clouds expanded in the water under the man's body.
Quy pushed off his good leg toward the far shore to reach the protective cover of the bamboo as his radioman drifted slowly toward the gap in the boulders.
Zubeck lay behind the boulder, yelling into the radio handset, "I need Guns! We're pinned down at the stream!"
Foley could barely hear Zubeck's words over the sound of rifle fire in the background, but he'd heard enough to know the situation was on the verge of turning into a disaster. He flipped a toggle and blurted into the handset. "Ghost Rider, lead, we have another team in contact. They're located by the waterfall in the gap of the mountains. Do you have a visual. Over?"
The Gun pilot replied immediately. "Roger, we'll be
there in two mikes. Have them pop smoke and we'll come in hot, over."
"Roger, break. Zulu-One, pop smoke and direct strike."
The radio operator's body tumbled with the current between the boulders and was pulled to the center of the quiet pool. There he bobbed up and down and began spinning around the periphery of the whirlpool's vortex, faster and faster, until suddenly he was sucked down as if consumed.
Zubeck pulled a smoke grenade from his harness and heaved it. "Christ, Charlie, they're almost on top of us!" Zubeck had his back to the radio operator and turned around to give him the handset. The young blond soldier sat against the boulder with blood oozing from a hole in his forehead.
"Charlie!"
A bullet careened off the boulder just above Zubeck's head, stinging him with fragments. The NVA were moving higher on the slope so they could fire down at them. Zubeck knew it was only a matter of time before grenades would come in. He jumped up and ran for the cave entrance. Bullets slammed into the rock all around him as he dived in head first. He spun around and yelled over the incoming fire, "Move back to the cave!"
Only two of his men heard him. The rest were dead.
Jenkins and Burns were in a shallow depression they had dug out behind a trunk-size boulder. They'd been the ones who blew the first Claymores. Jenkins peered around the protective rock and ducked back. "Throw a smoke to the right and they won't see us," he said.
Burris pulled a smoke grenade from his webbed belt and threw it. It seemed to take forever for the red cloud to mushroom and spread.
"Go!" yelled Jenkins, hopping up and firing his M-16.
Burns broke for the cave, jumping over rocks like a hurdler. Jenkins followed. The NVA on the slope, unable to see their targets, threw grenades in the general direction of the boulders. Explosions threw up gravel and rock chips like deadly shrapnel.
Jenkins buckled over, screaming in agony. He'd been hit in the legs and stomach. Burris turned around to help, only to be blown backward, mortally wounded in the legs and chest.
Zubeck cried "Nooo!" as he saw Burris fall.
Quy's men attacked. Zubeck heard their shouts and readied his CAR-15. His first target appeared out of the red smoke only ten feet away. He fired and swung his rifle toward another screaming attacker.
The gunship pilot called again. "Zulu-One, Zulu-One, this is Ghost Rider, Two Zero. Over."
The helicopter passed over the stream at eighty knots, but didn't fire. He couldn't shoot unless he knew where the enemy was in relation to the team's position.
The door gunner yelled into the intercom, "Jesus, dinks are all over down there!"
"You see any friendlies?" asked the exasperated pilot.
"Negative, just dinks! Jesus, they're all over the rocks."
The pilot pulled up as he called the gunships behind him. "No friendlies. Dinks in the open along the stream. Get 'em!"
The second chopper streaked in, firing its mini-guns. Burrrrrrrp! Burrrrrrrp!
Quy lay balled up on the bank. The machine gun bullets churned the stream into a muddy froth. Water dripped from the bamboo. Screams of pain came from the direction of the boulders, but were quickly masked by the other helicopter's beating blades as it bore down on its target.
Zubeck lay in the floor of the cave, wounded in the back by a ricocheting bullet. He couldn't move his arms or legs. His head was cocked and frozen at. An odd angle, looking out of the entrance. The second machine gun pass went unheard by him. He couldn't hear anymore. An image appeared in front of him, a figure of a small man raising a rifle.
Quy heard a single muffled shot from the boulders and stopped crawling. He hadn't thought any of his men could have survived the air attack. He called out to his platoon to report. Across the stream and in the forest along the slope, he heard many voices respond. He gritted his teeth in a cruel smile. His platoon was still intact.
Chapter 26
They don't answer the radio and Ghost Rider gunships report enemy in the cave area. We must assume Zubeck's team is KIA'd or captured. Wade's team has been notified and has moved back to patrol base in rocks above NVA camp. They report they are in a good defensive position, but have one WIA. They have seen no activity since initial attack. Over."
Childs bent over the radio mike. "Roger, Three Alfa, what is air support status? Over."
"I have a set of F-4s with a forward air controller and one set of Star Blazer gunships. Ghost Rider Guns are returning to rearm. Star Blazers have ten minutes more of station time before they have to refuel. Will need additional gun support ASAP. Over."
Childs looked up at Shane. "We gotta get 'em out now before it's too late."
Shane grabbed the mike. "Three Alfa, this is Six. Have Three- one mark their location and bring in the F-4s to blow an LZ on top of the ridge. A Slick will follow for extraction. Over."
"Wilco, Six, out."
Shane set the mike down and shut his eyes. Come on guys, get outta there . . . you gotta make it.
Wade held the radio handset to his ear, listening to Lieutenant Foley, as the team frantically piled up large rocks and dug in around the boulders for more protection.
Foley told Wade the gunships reported seeing the dinks leave the stream and head in his direction, but they had disappeared under the thick canopy. Wade knew the F-4s' bombs would kill some of the approaching enemy but not all. It would be too risky to blow the LZ to the north. He keyed the handset. "Three Alfa, I'm gonna have the F-4s make their drop three hundred meters south of my location on top of ridge. Have Slick ready to come in."
Rose crawled back into the boulders after setting up the Claymores and, as he started digging, mumbled, "Them gooks fucked up big-time, man. They messin' with the Rose."
Thumper tried to make Lieutenant Gibson sit back against the boulder and rest, but he insisted on keeping his position and watching the trail. Thumper knew the pain must have been terrible for him, but didn't dare give him morphine. When they ran for the chopper, they couldn't afford to carry anyone.
Tears streamed down the lieutenant's face as he rocked back and forth, trying to keep his eyes on the trail. His jaw ached so badly that he felt as if it might explode. He dug his hands into the plastic stock of his CAR-15 and stifled a scream inside himself.
Wade pulled out a smoke grenade and called the forward air controller's call sign that Foley had given him. The Air Force FAC responded immediately. "This is Pretty Bird, Five-zero. Go."
"Pretty Bird, am popping smoke, now. From smoke make drop three hundred meters due south on top of ridge. Over."
Wade tossed the smoke canister as the pilot answered, "Roger."
Colonel Sy and a corporal carrying a radio stepped over the wounded as they approached the general, who sat propped up against the outcrop wall.
Sy knelt down and patted the old man's hand. "We will carry you out soon."
The general's eyes were sunken, and his face drawn. He looked as if he'd aged twenty years in the past twenty minutes. His wounds had been tended, but he needed serious medical attention-medical attention he knew he would never receive in time. His eyes told Sy this as he whispered, "What is the situation?"
Sy lowered his head. "The Thirty-ninth and Forty-second are finished. There are some survivors, but the numbers won't reach a hundred. The Thirty-third has sent two companies to help the wounded. Here, at the Headquarters, we have twelve dead and sixteen wounded."
Sy looked up at the general. "A platoon from the Thirty-third engaged a small American force by the stream and killed them all. Another platoon has joined them, and they are now beginning to search the mountain behind us for others."
General Due took Sy's hand, whispering in a rasp. "Leave now. Take the wounded and fight another day."
The radioman raised the handset to his ear, hearing a call, and grabbed the colonel's shoulder. "The Third Platoon reports seeing a colored cloud on the trail behind us!"
Sy sprang up to leave but felt a tug on his trouser leg. The general was holding him and whispering aga
in. Sy bent over to hear his words. "Let them go. The men are more important. . . you must leave now."
Sy gently pulled the old man's hand away from his leg and called for die able-bodied to pick up their weapons. The radio operator looked into the colonel's determined face with a questioning stare. "What did the general say?"
Sy glanced at his general, then at the slope behind him. "He said, 'Destroy them.' "
Senior Sergeant Chuong crawled behind the base of a huge mahogany and peered around. A yellow smoke cloud a hundred meters down the trail was billowing up toward the canopy. Chuong slid back. The American position would be located in the rocks just off the trail. He motioned his first squad leader closer and whispered, "You and the men from the Second Platoon stay here and pin the Yankees down with your gunfire. Colonel Sy has called on the radio. His men will attack up the slope in a few minutes. It will be a good diversion for us. I and the rest of the platoon will crawl along the slope and get closer. After the colonel's assault, we will follow with our own. Begin shooting when you hear the colonel's attack commence."
the Last Run (1987) Page 39
