Soldier of Fortune

by Barry Sadler

  The captain called down to the engine room, where his only mechanic tended to the engines assigned to his care. The precision engines were his pride and joy: good efficient engines from the United States. He treated them like tiny babies.

  The gunboat arrived at the desired position. The crew immediately dropped the bow anchor and faced the craft upstream, where they could watch for oncoming boats. They waited.

  Casey and his slight crew were relaxing, enjoying this chance to rest and eat. The boat was well stocked with fish and rice. He tried to figure their odds. Here on the river they were relatively safe. One more night and they would be in the clear. So far, so good. If luck stayed with them, they'd be out of this hellhole tomorrow. It might be better, though, he thought, if they moved to land for a while and then back to the river. He didn't like holding one position for so long. But the women had walked enough and would probably not be able to make it on foot. They were getting farther into heavily populated areas now, and his pale eyes and brown hair would stand out like red flags. No, the river was more than likely their best shot.

  Again, night began to settle on them, growing darker as they passed each village. One more down, how many more to go? he would mentally calculate as they floated past each town.

  As they passed Kampong, he raised the cabin tarp and looked out. From where he was, he could see a group of men gathered at the pier. They looked more like soldiers than fishermen, and there were no boats around. That was neither good nor bad, though. If they were soldiers waiting to spot them going by, without boats they could not give chase. However, they could send word downstream to whomever waited below. Too late to worry about that now. Hell with it. If they waited down river, there was little Casey could do about it, anyway. He would wait until the situation came up to decide what to do.

  They passed the town, and Van steered the sampan out of the current and over to the river's edge as far as he dared, using the shoreline to hide the craft as much as possible.

  George moved to the bow, looking ahead to check for sandbars or stumps. A single shot rang out, dropping George as if he'd been poleaxed.

  Lon turned quickly to the young sailor who'd fired, stunned at the man's stupidity in warning the oncoming boat. The colonel pulled his pistol from his holster and at point blank range shot the man in the face. The captain started to protest, but the expression on Lon's face said that he'd be better off keeping his mouth shut.

  "The young fool gave us away, Captain. Start your engines and let's get after them," he screamed.

  The captain gave the order. The engines roared to life, and busy sailors hoisted anchor.

  When George fell, Casey ran to his side. Seeing that he'd been hit in the face, he called for Yu Li to help. While she looked after George, he raced to the stern and helped Huan start the outboard motor. Sputtering, the small engine kicked into life, and they pulled away, keeping to the side of the river.

  They passed the narrows and entered a wide channel with many outlets and avenues, crossing over water so shallow that the outboard motor threw up clouds of mud.

  Damn, he thought, come on darkness, it's our only chance. He watched as Yu Li and her mother bandaged George's face, covering both eyes.

  The gunboat's engines were roaring. The searchlight was frantically moving across the water in its forward path, reaching out and probing the darkness in the direction of the sampan. Lon urged the captain and his crew on. Just then, the light picked up the sampan ahead of them, and he ordered the ship to fire on it. They did as he'd ordered. Round after round, 20 mm shells smashed the planks of the small vessel's hull. But it still was not enough to sink it. The tiny outboard motor pushed the sampan on. Lon yelled at the captain when he decided they'd given their best effort and would give up the chase. Lon knocked him down with a sweep of his arm and took the wheel himself, promptly running the gunboat onto a sandbar, watching helplessly as the battered sampan made its way downstream.

  The ocean and safety, Lon knew, was less than twenty miles away. By dawn, the American and his people would be outside the limits of his Cambodian authority. In a rage he went to the deck gun and grabbed its trigger. Swinging the big weapon around in the direction of the fading sampan, he emptied the magazine in a high flying arc. It was out of the searchlight's range now, but one round found its way blindly to the deck and exploded, sending several pieces of half dollar sized shards of metal flying around. One of these hit Huan slightly above the groin. The hot steel cooled off inside him as he slipped wordlessly into a welcome unconsciousness.

  A sound of mourning came from Huan's women. Casey hissed loudly for them to be quiet. Their sound would guide their followers. The women chocked back their grief and bandaged his wound.

  He left Van at the wheel and knelt beside Huan. Checking him over carefully, he located another smaller entry point just below the right pectoral. He knew that the wounds were damned serious. Without proper treatment for at least the lower injury, peritonitis would soon set in.

  All that night they sailed, killing the outboard, maintaining silence, and taking their time. If they were not careful, they could get stuck like the gunboat. At least that's what he had assumed had happened to them, since there was no further chase.

  The sun had been up for several hours when a change in the wind gained his attention. There was a new smell, different from the dankness of the dark river water's odor. The ocean! They had at last arrived at the ocean.

  Raising the ragged sail, he and Van worked their small craft into the light breakers. Soon they were in the South China Sea and on their way home. Slowly, relentlessly, the sampan made its way against the tide, trying desperately to hold them back and prevent them from entering new waters. Foot by short foot, they moved gradually forward until they were out and clear of the pull from the shore's currents. The tiny ship moved away, leaving behind it the shore and coastline of Cambodia fading into the horizon. Only Casey watched this happen; the others were lying about on the deck in varying degrees of exhaustion.

  Yu Li lay curled up in a fetal knot at his feet. He guarded the tiller, guiding the sampan sluggishly through the waters of the sea, taking bearings occasionally with his compass for a heading on Malaya. It was closer than the Philippines, and Malaya was home.

  Van tossed restlessly in his tormented sleep, his thin and frail frame exhausted from the long run. The wound on his head looked worse than it actually was, Casey thought. As long as they could prevent infection, he shouldn't have any more than a handsome new scar to show his girl-friends. George, though, he guessed, might be a different ballgame. He would go to check on him as soon as Van woke and relieved him.

  Yu Li's mother slept in what was left of the shelter area on the deck of the boat, covering herself with her man's shirt. They should reach one of the Malay islands, he calculated, no later than the next morning if the wind and the weather held for them. They had made it. It was all over.

  Casting one last look behind, he squinted his eyes against the reflected glare of the setting sun. A speck on the horizon behind them suddenly appeared, growing larger as he stared.

  "No! Dammit to hell! It's not fair. We beat them. We won! They can't take us now. We're outside their limits," he shouted aloud. But even as he thought about it, he was well aware that if they could, they damned sure would take them back.

  The captain of the gunboat in pursuit had been given very specific orders: Bring them back! Dead or alive, but bring them back. The gunboat sped up, closing the gap between them and the shot up sampan. He was moving damned fast.

  Casey quickly assessed their position. They were damned near out of ammo; not enough to fight with and most assuredly nothing heavy enough to handle that gunboat. Shit! From this distance he could already see the Bofors mounted on their deck. That cuts it! They can blow us away with no sweat at all. George is out of the fight. The head wound wouldn't allow him to live twenty four hours in one of their filthy rotten jails if any of us survived long enough to even make it to one of their
jails, he quickly added in his mind. And what of Yu Li and her mother? What would lie ahead for them?

  Yu Li woke just then, her eyes following his determined gaze, spotting the communist gunship, now closing fast. With her female intuition, she knew exactly what was going through his mind. She pulled herself up from the deck and to his side, laying her head on his leg and speaking softly. "We fought them well, did we not, my love?"

  He nodded without speaking, stroking her hair with one knotted, scarred hand. She took his free hand and kissed it gently, ignoring the dirt and dried blood.

  "We should not stop fighting them. Is it not better to die here and now than to perish a little bit at a time as they may choose? I know these beasts. Let us take them with us if we can, or at least as many as possible. I would not have you give me or yourself to them."

  He motioned to her mother, sleeping on deck. "And what of her? And my men? Am I to be responsible for all your deaths?"

  Yu Li shook her head. "Without my father, she has no real life left to her. Her babies are safe. She will die bravely."

  Casey noticed that Van's eyes were open. "Did you hear what the little one said, old friend?"

  Van coughed, clearing his throat. "She is right. To allow them to take us alive would be more than stupid, old boy. Let us end our mission on our own terms."

  Casey looked over at Huan. Somehow he had pulled himself into a sitting position against the side of the wrecked cabin. He motioned to Van, who went to the Chinese man's side, bending over low and speaking in Chinese. He turned to Casey.

  "He understands the situation. He says to kill the communist bastards."

  "Kill them." Huan coughed weakly, specks of bloody film bubbling on his lips, giving evidence that the lungs had been hit.

  "Okay! That's the way it will be, then. What do we have left to hit them with, though? That's the damned question. Should we maybe throw the friggin' sail at them?" Casey asked bitterly.

  Van did a fast inventory. They had one magazine remaining for the Swedish "K" and four 9 mm rags to be divided equally between the two pistols, Van's P-38 and George's Browning plus four grenades. Not an arsenal by any means.

  Van leaned over again to take Huan's pistol. Huan whispered in his ear, and Van grinned slowly, nodding in the affirmative.

  "What did he say that would crack you up at a time like this?" Casey queried.

  "He does not wish to die without taking some of them with him, Sergeant. He would like two of the grenades for himself."

  He agreed with the man's request. "Why the hell not? We all started this thing together, and we'll finish it the same way. Give the brave little man what he wants." He looked back at the boat coming on them. He could read the lettering on the hull.

  "Now listen, each of you. This is the way we'll play it. We just might be able to take a few of the bastards out before they blow us out of the sea. Yu Li, you stand behind me with the SMG. When they slow to board us, assuming they don't blow us out of the water first, I'll show them empty hands. While you're behind me, pull the pins on the grenades hanging on my belt in the back. Hand them to me damned fast when I tell you to."

  She nodded, and he turned to Van. "Take that bandage off your head and break the wound open again. Get some blood flowing. I want you to look like you've had your damned brains blown out. Lay down close to the side of the sampan. When I toss the grenades on their ship, use the side for cover and pepper the hell out of 'em with your pistol."

  He turned again to Yu Li. "As soon as I throw the grenades, I'll drop. You let loose with the `K. I'll take out whoever I can with my pistol. Both of you, and you too, Huan, remember to save a little ammo."

  Each of them knew what he meant. The last rounds would be used on any of them whom the reds didn't get. Huan nodded, as did the rest, and pulled himself up to take a drink from a can near him. Casey stopped him.

  "Don't, Huan! That's gasoline. Here, drink this." He handed him his own canteen. "I know you're not supposed to drink with that gut wound you've got, but what the hell. We don't have much of a life expectancy left right now."

  The gunboat was within hailing distance now, and it slowed, its wake jostling the smaller craft. The weapon on the bow spit out several rounds over the bow of the sampan, and they waited to see if the Americans would respond with fire of their own.

  When no fire was returned, Lon showed himself at the bow and called to them in good English. "It is all over for you. Now you will surrender to me, all of you. None shall be harmed. You will be given a fair trial, and the ones you have kidnaped shall be returned to their homes. Do you hear me, American? Do you understand?"

  Casey yelled back, deciding that he'd better give the colonel a little food for thought. "I hear you! But listen! Do you swear that we will be given fair trials and the women will go free?"

  "Yes, American. You have my word. The word of a respected and trustworthy officer. We have no war against women. All we want is for you and your outlaws to surrender and face justice in a public trial. Then the entire world will know how America tries to overthrow the rightful government of a peaceful nation in the name of her democracy. Surrender and stand trial. Perhaps you will be shown leniency if you testify that you are merely a stooge for the CIA. Stand up now and show yourselves. You will not be harmed."

  Casey rose with Yu Li erect and directly behind him. His huge frame was hiding most of her, he hoped. He called to the gunboat, now almost onside: "I'm the only man who can stand. The others are either shot up badly or dead."

  He raised his hands, clasping them behind his head in what looked like the proper POW method. He whispered under his breath, not moving his lips. "Get ready, Yu Li. I love you."

  She moved even closer to him, whispering, her firm young breasts touching his back. "We are together. It is enough for me."

  The Khmer crew were tossing grappling lines to the deck of the pathetic little sampan that had performed so nobly for her crew of refugees.

  "Now, Yu Li," he hissed.

  She pulled the pins on the two grenades held next to her skin and handed them, one in each hand, around Casey's waist. His hands came quickly from behind his neck and dropped down, grasping the two steel balls of death. He threw them to the deck of the gunboat, dropping to the deck at the same instant. Yu Li raised the Swedish "K" and cut loose with a long hosing burst that sent Khmer sailors falling into the water. The sight of the grenades in mid-air, heading in their direction, was the only thing that the ship's commander and Colonel Lon had eyes for. Their men were no different. They all ducked for cover. Before the two grenades had landed on deck, Van was already up and trying to blow the captain away. His close misses had aided the officer in his desire to seek cover fast. Lon was already in hiding below the deck's edge when the grenades went off, blasting several Khmers into clots of jelly.

  Before the crew of the gunboat could react, Casey saw Huan throwing himself into the smoke rising from the deck of the gunboat, carrying the can of gasoline. He was screaming at the top of his lungs in his madness, a choking scream from blood filled lungs.

  He leaped onto the deck of the enemy ship like an Asiatic Errol Flynn, throwing himself through an open hatch and into the engine room below deck. An amazed Khmer sailor watched in astonishment at the fearful looking apparition that had suddenly appeared before him. What was this bloody looking figure that was carrying a gas can? What were his intentions? "No! No! Sweet Buddha, no!"

  Huan landed catlike, raised himself up, and smiled at the startled sailor. He laughed wildly, pulling the pins on the two grenades Van had given him.

  On the deck above, action had ceased temporarily. All were stunned by what had so suddenly occurred. A weak laugh came to their ears from below, and, shortly following the mad laugh, a tremendous explosion tore the belly out of the Khmer vessel.

  "White phosphorus," Casey yelled to Van. "You gave him the white phosphorous grenades!"

  The white heat from the grenades set off the gas can that Huan was carrying, which in tu
rn ignited the fuel tanks of the gunboat, sinking the vessel in less than a minute.

  Casey, Van, Yu Li, and her frail, surprised mother stood watching the bubbling water. Pieces of debris were now breaking free and rising to the surface. Casey recognized what was left of the colonel's uniform as it floated to the top. There was very little of the man inside of it. He and two others were all that came up as they watched. The rest were at the bottom by now, and if Huan's religion was right, he would never lack for servants in the next life.

  George still lay blissfully asleep on the deck, unaware of what had just transpired.

  Seeing that all on board were unharmed, Casey moved closer to the side and yelled to the few survivors Yu Li had knocked from the decks with her first burst. They were wounded but still alive. After what they'd just seen, he knew that they were probably thanking their gods that they'd been hit first. They were hanging on to planks that had surfaced, yelling to him for mercy.

  "I'm not going to kill you men. Over there is your country." He pointed to the unseen shore. "Make it if you can. You are all on your own."

  As he turned back to his own passengers, his eyes suddenly sighted beneath the dark waters a gray torpedo like shape making ever tighter circles of its prey. A white tipped shark, drawn by the scent of fresh blood, made his presence known by one quick flash of his dorsal fin above the water. As the dark deadly shape disappeared from sight, Casey turned to Van.