Tango Uniform (Vietnam Air War Book 3)

by Tom Wilson

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  Wednesday, February 28th, 0645 Local—Western Mountains, DRV

  Assistant Commissioner Nguyen Wu

  The roadway through the mountains was treacherous and exasperatingly long, and Wu had grown weary of riding in the foul-smelling, balky truck. He was also tired of listening to the sublieutenant's constant chatter about his family, who lived in Lao Cai, near the Chinese border, and how dedicated they were to the Enlightened One and the war effort. Every hour or two he'd tell the man to be quiet and drive, but a while later the sublieutenant would make a comment, then begin to expand upon it. On five separate occasions he'd taken wrong turns on the series of unmarked mountain pathways, and they'd had to backtrack for hours.

  Yet he intended to have him promoted and decorated—for serving a Hero of the Republic, as Wu was sure he'd become. The sublieutenant was awed by Wu's position as the right hand of the Commissioner of Death, and would spread the story of his heroism. Nguyen Wu would become a legend, the reed that had withstood the terrible American attacks to accomplish his task. They would be among the first few to emerge from the chaos at Ban Sao Si, and there would be no one to refute his deeds—how he'd left the bunker and walked calmly through hails of American bullets, determined to bring his important information to the Lao Dong party.

  The sublieutenant was parroting the proper words, and glowed with the promise that he'd be allowed to serve Wu during his rise within the party.

  In the early morning of the ninth day, they passed women bearing baskets on their heads, and the sublieutenant learned they were approaching the village of Yen Chau, and that there was a military outpost there. Wu felt a great flood of relief. They were safe! The Thunder planes attacked trucks on roadways, but never villages inhabited by civilians. As they drove past the first huts, Nguyen Wu assumed the haughty look he felt a Hero of the People should wear, ignoring the disgusting, rancid smells of the dismal, small community.

  "Find the camp where the soldiers live," he barked with authority. He wished he was more presentable and hoped they'd find a radio so he could notify Hanoi. As they passed more hovels, Wu wanted to blurt out a shout of thanks for being saved, but knew it did not fit into his new image. He maintained the stoic look of a Hero of the People.

  There was no encampment, only a handful of ragged militia, and those lived in miserable huts beside a crude, stilted observation tower at the edge of the jungle. Yet Wu's pulse quickened, for an antenna extended from the top of the tower. When they halted in a thick cloud of dust, Nguyen Wu swore he would not go a kilometer farther in the wretched Chinese-built truck.

  They dismounted, and the sublieutenant called up to the tower. Yes, there was a radio, a soldier in a ragged uniform laconically responded.

  "The assistant commissioner must speak with Hanoi."

  "Assistant commissioner?" When he was told Wu worked for the Commissioner of People's Safety, the man immediately became obsequious and began to bow and chatter nervously. "Of course!" he spouted. They'd do anything for a representative of the Commissioner of Death.

  The sublieutenant shouted that Wu was a hero, fresh from battle with the Americans. They would hear much about this great man in the future, he said. The soldier was so overcome he could scarcely speak. Wu interpreted the silence not as fear, but awed respect. He knew he must grow accustomed to such treatment. When they arrived at Hanoi and revealed what he'd brought them—the list of agents in locations throughout Thailand, as well as the power structure of the Mee intelligence effort in Laos and Cambodia—he'd be acclaimed by the Lao Dong party. He had attended parades and proud speeches in Ba Dinh square honoring men who had done far less.

  No one would dare withhold his rewards. His beloved aunt would see to it.

  As Wu crawled up the tower's ladder, he wished his uniform was in better repair. He'd have time to have it washed and mended, he decided, because it was unlikely they'd send a helicopter before nightfall. Daytime travel would be dangerous, and his information was invaluable. A moment later he was briefed on the operation of the ancient and bulky radio. When the thing had warmed, and the fearful soldier had adjusted the tuning and volume, Wu spoke with an operator at the People's Army headquarters in Hanoi. He identified himself and asked to be immediately connected with a Lao Dong party representative.

  He was told to stand by. The voice was cool and efficient, and made Nguyen Wu yearn for the sophistication of Hanoi. Several long minutes passed before a jumble of static sounded. It was not the party liaison officer, but the same voice asking him to tune to a new radio frequency.

  The soldier made the change, and Wu again made contact. He was surprised when a distinctive, rasping voice responded. Xuan Nha first cautioned him not to use names on the radio, then congratulated him for making it safely out of Ban Sao Si. He asked how many of the 900 men at Ban Sao Si had survived the air attacks.

  Wu said there were few who remained alive. He told him how he'd fought his way gallantly through hails of American bullets and ignored the bombs that were exploding nearby.

  Xuan Nha said he must have been very brave, and Wu could hear no derisiveness in the rasping voice, so he remained appropriately quiet. "We have assigned this frequency to you, so long as you remain at Yen Chau," Xuan Nha said.

  Wu asked if that would he necessary, since he'd be there for such a short time.

  Xuan Nha replied that there were too many Mee aircraft flying in the area during the daytime to attempt to extract him right away, and that the Soviet helicopter pilots weren't proficient at night flying in the mountainous regions.

  Nguyen could not keep a tremor from his voice. "When will they come for me?"

  "Shortly," Xuan Nha answered vaguely. He asked if Wu had been successful with his mission.

  "More successful than anyone can imagine! I have served my party and country with courage and honor. I have. . ." He stopped himself, remembering that he must be stoic.

  Xuan asked if he wished to give the information of his findings over the radio, so People's Army intelligence could begin working with it.

  "It is far too sensitive, " Wu responded. "When I arrive in Hanoi, I will personally brief the Lao Dong party intelligence chief. My information is for him, not the People's Army," he said with appropriate disdain.

  Xuan Nha didn't press the subject. He welcomed him back again—repeated that future communications between Hanoi and the Yen Chau outpost should be made only on the new frequency—and told him to call back in another week, and to ask to speak with only him.

  "A week?"

  "That is how long intelligence believes the bombardments will continue. The Mee Thunder planes are bombing targets between your position and Hanoi."

  Wu's spirits plummeted. His former elation had completely disappeared.

  "I will tell everyone how brave and honorable you have been. You are too important to be placed in jeopardy, and the information you possess is undoubtedly critical to the party."

  That helped some.

  "The Mee must not discover your location or know that you are carrying critical secrets. Remain out of sight as much as you can, for their spies are everywhere in that area. The fewer people who see you there, the better."

  That seemed reasonable. The Mee would surely want the secrets he carried.

  "From now on, when you speak on the radio, do not tell your name. Use your code name . . . which we have assigned as Brave Hero. Do not tell even the people in Yen Chau who you are."

  "Brave Hero," Wu repeated, liking the sound of it.

  "You may also assume command of Yen Chau, since you are the ranking official there."

  "I will do so immediately," Wu said happily.

  Xuan Nha said they'd talk again in seven days, then he terminated. Nguyen Wu handed the microphone to the soldier, wondering if he shouldn't have been more adamant. He already felt like a captive in the mountain village so far from Hanoi, and now he must spend seven more days here? He determined that his stay would not last a moment l
onger than that.

  When he leaned out of the tower, he noted that another slovenly soldier was speaking to the sublieutenant. When Wu asked, he called in a tremulous voice that he commanded the outpost.

  "I am now in charge," Wu barked. "That was Colonel Nha I spoke to on the radio."

  The soldier gawked up at him.

  "Surely you have heard of Colonel Xuan Nha, in temporary command of the People's Army of National Defense. That includes the militia, you know."

  "No longer temporary, honorable comrade. He is our general now. The promotion was announced several days ago. General Giap himself issued the bulletin."

  Xuan Nha a general? Wu started to boast that General Nha was his aunt's husband, but suppressed the words, remembering that he must remain anonymous.

  The soldier at his side spoke out. "I heard General Nha on the radio myself. This important visitor is to be called only Brave Hero, and no one is to know he is here. The general said so."

  There were gasps at the significance of their visitor. The soldier below bowed deeply. "We are honored that you now command our humble outpost, Brave Hero."

  "The sublieutenant and I shall take rooms in the largest and finest house in this miserable place while we wait for the helicopter."

  The sublieutenant smiled wider.

  "That is my home," said a man who was marginally better clothed than the others. He introduced himself as mayor of the patriotic and grand city of Yen Chau. "We will be honored to have such a great and brave hero stay with us."

  While the humble village of Yen Chau was neither grand nor a city, Wu glowed at the description of himself. Ah well, thought Wu as he descended the rickety tower. His glorious return to Hanoi would come soon enough.

  A troublesome thought arose. With Xuan Nha now a general, his trysts with Li Binh must be more discreet. Perhaps Wu should even begin to curry his favor.

  0740L—VPA Headquarters, Hanoi, DRV

  General Xuan Nha

  It had been a fine week for Xuan. He'd thoroughly enjoyed attending the ceremonies—one when General Giap and Li Binh had looked on quietly as General Dung read the honors, the other when he'd read the orders promoting his own subordinates as they assumed new responsibilities. Colonel Tran Van Ngo, replacing him as Commandant of Rockets and Artillery, Captain Quang Hanh, aide and communications officer. Eight others, all trusted subordinates, were also advanced to new positions, replacing his predecessor's staff.

  When the Americans attacked at Ban Sao Si, communications had been lost. Finally there'd been radio contact with a forty-man company that had hidden in a Lao village where no bombs had been dropped. They confirmed that the Strelas had proved useless against Thunder planes and Phantoms. The 900 defenders in the area were estimated to have suffered 80 percent casualties.

  Xuan Nha had directed the company commander to establish a camp east of Ban Sao Si, to report on enemy activities on the mountaintop. He'd dispatched a train of pack horses to resupply them, for their radio was weak and their provisions were already dwindling.

  He'd hoped Nguyen Wu had suffered a lingering and painful death. But the man lived, and harbored thoughts of being received in Hanoi as a hero. That wasn't out of the question—upon his arrival Li Binh would likely arrange an observance for her nephew's heroism.

  It had been fortunate Quang Hanh had been monitoring the Yen Chau frequency for word about stragglers arriving from Ban Sao Si. No one in Hanoi but he and Xuan Nha knew about the conversation with Nguyen Wu. Xuan felt he must handle this latest challenge discreetly. He couldn't simply order Wu to be executed, for if Li Binh heard of it, her wrath would be lethal. Yet as a member of the general staff, he could no longer tolerate Wu's shameful dalliances with his wife. Which was why he'd delayed Nguyen Wu's return. Xuan Nha could have dispatched a helicopter to Yen Chau that very evening, for the Mee air attacks had dwindled in numbers and intensity in the northern regions of the country.

  The frequency he'd told Quang Hanh to tune to had made the new captain raise a questioning eyebrow. Xuan Nha nodded, and Quang Hahn made the change, although the channel was known to have been compromised, and to be monitored by the Mee. Afterward he'd told him to remain secretive about the matter and knew the order would be obeyed.

  Xuan told him to raise Air Regiment Commandant Quon at Gia Lam, using yet another compromised frequency.

  He spoke a few niceties to Quon, who in turn congratulated him on his promotion.

  "The important official with the code name of Brave Hero is now at the village of Yen Chau, in the western mountains," Xuan Nha said very slowly and clearly.

  "Brave Hero?" Quon almost strangled on the words, and couldn't suppress a short laugh.

  "That is the code name I assigned him," Xuan Nha said. "He has broken the American spy woman and has her secrets there at Yen Chau with him."

  "The spy woman who was first captured by the Pathet Lao?"

  Well spoken, Xuan thought. Surely the Americans would understand that. "Yes. That woman. Brave Hero is carrying her secrets with him. It would be unfortunate if the Mee decided to attack there with their airplanes."

  "Very unfortunate," Quon said in a clear voice over the compromised frequency as they'd agreed.

  Neither of them knew that monitoring of that frequency had been shifted to a lower priority at the American listening station at Danang Air Base, since nothing of intelligence interest had ever been found there. That particular channel of the tape, one of hundreds being recorded at the time, would not be interpreted for several days.

  0930L—355th TFW Commander's Office, Takhli RTAFB, Thailand

  Captain Manny DeVera

  As he passed Penny's desk, Manny gave her a final look before proceeding into the wing commander's office. He'd told her what he must do and knew it pleased her. He could no longer continue the lie, living among his friends and acting as if he were betting his ass just as they were. It was only right that Leska be the first one to know. He'd been the one to trust Manny after he was branded a lair. He shouldn't be told by others that his faith had been misplaced.

  Manny could live no longer with the constant shakes and jangles, unable to face his friends, wondering if one of them was going to fly in his place and not return. He'd not been able to sleep, or lately even to make love with Penny. He was utterly exhausted, both physically and mentally, and felt that only by making a clean breast of it all would he be able to rest. Manny was going to lay it all out, then stand to attention and face the consequences—do whatever the wing commander felt was appropriate.

  Leska was on the phone, but he waved him into a chair at the side of his desk. Manny sat gingerly and rubbed at his eyes.

  So fucking tired.

  "George," the wing commander was saying in a strained voice, "I don't give a damn if you feel they're tearing up your birds, you don't bitch at Jerry Trimble in front of crew chief and pilots. I won't have any more open arguments, dammit."

  He listened for a moment, then shook his head as if Armaugh could see him over the telephone line. "No! Dammit, you will not forward a report like that. Any such bickering we'll keep in house. I don't want you exposing our dirty laundry to the world."

  As Leska continued to chew his Deputy for Maintenance's ass, Manny fidgeted, thinking about the colonel's temper and how it would be directed toward himself in a couple of minutes.

  He deserved the worst. He'd betrayed the man's trust.

  "See me in fifteen minutes. No, here in my office." A pause. "Bring your write-ups with you. I'm going to sit you and Jerry Trimble down together, and we're going to settle this damn arguing once and for all." He slammed the telephone harshly into its cradle, then turned his eye on Manny. "You didn't hear that."

  "No, sir," he replied.

  Leska was reduced to muttering. "One of those cases where everyone's right and everyone's wrong, and there's no good answers." He buzzed Penny and told her to prepare the conference room for a private meeting between himself, operations, and maintenance. Just those three
, he told her.

  Leska leaned back in his chair, relaxing some. "It ain't easy, Manny." He examined his weapons officer's face with a concerned look.

  DeVera could keep it in no longer. He blurted his words. "I want to quit flying, sir."

  Colonel Leska continued staring. "You want to what?"

  Manny swallowed hard, shifted his eyes to the all. "I want to quit—"

  "Just a second," the wing commander interrupted, and picked up the telephone. "I've got to make a phone call, Manny."

  DeVera looked on grimly. Leska was probably calling the legal people to have him court-martialed—maybe Colonel Trimble to have his wings ripped from his chest, or whatever they did with cowards.

  Leska hesitated, then dialed and spoke with the civil engineer about a problem with runway lighting. "Send one of your guys over to check 'em out, okay?"

  Manny relaxed. Apparently the colonel's mind had been preoccupied when he'd told him. After a few more words Leska hung up, rolling his eyes. "Can you believe there are four lights out and they didn't even know it? That I'm the first one to tell them?"

  Manny mumbled a response, not minding the delay, willing to grasp at any small lifesaver so he could put off telling about his cowardice. It was the shittiest thing he'd ever had to do. Yet he had to get it said and over with.

  Leska was writing something on a notepad. "I've found if I don't write these things down, I tend to forget them."

  "Yes, sir," Manny muttered, savoring the small talk. "I know what you mean."

  The intercom buzzed, and the colonel took a call, this one from the wing commander at Korat, obviously a good friend, because he called him Willie and made little private jokes. After ten minutes of banter, Leska hung up. "Now there's a leader of men. His people think he's right up there with God, and I can understand why. He's one of the guys, know what I mean, but he's still able to make the tough decisions and he doesn't take any crap."

  "Yes, sir, I've heard that."