Black Market

by Donald E. Zlotnik

  “Why not … By the way, would you like these?” The gunnery sergeant held up the defused mines.

  “Fuck you! Take them back and give them to one of your officers!”

  “Now now, Sergeant … That could be taken the wrong way very easily.”

  The infantry squad leader shrugged his shoulders and grinned. “Take it any way you want to.” He signaled for his men to load up on the AMTRACK and then looked back at the engineer team. “Are you coming?”

  The three engineers climbed up on top of the AMTRACK and stacked their gear in the center on the hot steel plates, while the infantry sergeant tied the skull to one of the headlight guards with commo wire.

  “Gunny?” the young Marine asked.

  “Yeah?”

  “You know when we were back at Camp Lejeune … I … I…” The Marine looked over at his sergeant.” I used to make a lot of fun about you carrying those little pieces of metal around all the time, especially when you would use them for toothpicks … I’d like to apologize…”

  The gunnery sergeant gave his Marine a curt nod and closed the matter. He had known all along how much the young Marines had joked behind his back about his numerous idiosyncrasies—and he had a lot of them—that had never left him since Korea. He turned around on the case of ammo he was using for a seat and faced out over the South China Sea. Here he was in another fucking war, but this time he was the gunnery sergeant and he planned on bringing all of his Marines back home alive. There would be no dumb fucking mistakes … none.

  The Marine battalion had received their orders to move out the next day. Only a few of the large AMTRACKs would be taken up to Hue by ship and then driven to Quang Tri, where they would pick up an Army tank escort to take them out to the Marine base at Vandergrift. There they would be assigned to keep Highway 9 cleared of mines out to the new base camp at Khe Sanh.

  The gunnery sergeant felt good about the assignment. The AMTRACKs had recently been overhauled and given new engines and transmissions. The Marine infantry assigned to guard the engineer detail was top-notch and drug free, something that was starting to really bother the old Marine NCOs; they could handle a drunk Marine, but this new breed of drug users were causing the Corps new problems. He smiled to himself. This assignment out in the middle of nowhere would be a good place to cement his engineer platoon into a Marine combat unit.

  The detachment of old AMTRACKs arrived at the Vandergrift base area just as it was beginning to get dark and were assigned positions along the perimeter of the large base for the night, along with the Army tank platoon. The commander of the base area wasn’t going to waste any of his firepower by leaving it parked in a motor pool, which was smart considering the area they were occupying was North Vietnamese and had been since the beginning of the Vietnam War.

  The night was uneventful, and most of the men had taken advantage of it to get at least four hours of sleep. Marines learned to sense when they had a chance to sleep and took it when it came, knowing full well that they could spend the next two or three days awake.

  “Let’s get cleaned up and fed!” The gunnery sergeant was already dressed and clean shaven. He had been up since the last guards and had checked all of the platoon’s gear and AMTRACKs, knowing that they would receive an assignment as soon as the staff officers of the day arrived for work at the command bunker.

  “Where do we eat, Gunny?”

  “They’ve got an enlisted mess tent set up over there by the showers.” He pointed.

  “Do you know what’s being served?”

  “Hot C-rations.”

  “Fuck it … I can heat my own.” The Marine opened his pack and removed a can of ham and eggs. He took up a seat on the top of his AMTRACK and crossed his legs. The fresh smell of the early morning actually caused his spirits to rise. He was a farm boy and had always enjoyed the early morning smells coming from the earth. He looked down the slope from where they were parked on the perimeter and could see that there were Marines lined up in front of the enlisted mess tent and that about a dozen Marines were taking early morning showers before they went to their operations bunkers for the rest of the day and probably late into the night. The men taking showers in the open-air shower facility looked out of place in the olive drab base area, where everything was camouflaged. The Marine eating his can of ham and eggs on top of his AMTRACK smiled as he thought about what an NVA with a sniper rifle could do down there from his position. The sound coming from his rear outside the perimeter blended in with the early morning sounds coming from the base camp. The young Marine heard the noise but didn’t have anything to compare it to; he hadn’t been in-country long enough to recognize the sound of 122mm rockets being ignited.

  He sat with his back to the perimeter and a spoonful of dull yellow eggs halfway to his mouth when the barrage of rockets hit in unison. He could see the men bounce against the green tarp surrounding the showers and the bright red slashes appear on their naked bodies. He could see the line of men waiting to enter the mess tent ripple near the end and the rest of the men dive for cover. He could see the large mushrooms of red clay dust erupt all over the base area. There must have been a hundred of the ground bubbles appearing all at the same time. He had finished moving the spoonful of food to his mouth and started chewing when the sounds reached him. Three seconds had passed and twenty-seven Marines had died.

  “What the fuck is going on down there in the base camp?” The gunnery sergeant was yelling up to the Marine private sitting on top of the AMTRACK.

  “Looks like some bombs are going off, Gunny…” The private spoke around his food.

  “Well get the fuck off there and take cover!”

  The perimeter broke into a fury of activity. Machine guns began firing, and the artillery battery inside the base area started firing counter-rocket barrages.

  The Marine gunnery sergeant had been through all of this before and knew that the damage had already been done. “Take your fighting positions, but hold your fire until you see a target … It looks like a rocket attack. They might follow up with a ground assault during the confusion.”

  Fifty minutes had passed since the rockets had landed, and the perimeter was beginning to relax. The NVA would be foolish to assault the line units now that they had all been alerted and were waiting for them. The gunny knew that it was going to be limited to rockets this morning.

  “I want you men to rotate leaving your positions and get your gear ready to leave. We should be receiving some orders soon.” The senior sergeant looked down at his watch. It was exactly one minute to seven. He heard the sound and instantly identified it. “ROCKETS! INCOMING ROCKETS!” His voice had been trained over the years, and when he wanted to be heard, his voice carried for what seemed to be miles. The Marine down in the base camp instantly dove for cover, seconds before the second barrage of 122mm rockets landed.

  “Those smart motherfuckers! Exactly one hour apart!” The NCO grinned and a new respect for his enemy started growing in him.

  A Marine second lieutenant sprinted up the side of the slope to where the AMTRACKs were parked on the perimeter. He slipped around a night trench one of the Marines had dug for emergency shits and approached the gunny. “You the platoon sergeant?”

  “For the engineers.” The gunny nodded.

  “Good, you’re the Marine I’m looking for.” He returned the gunnery sergeant’s salute. “Have your men ready to begin sweeping down Highway 9 toward Khe Sanh within the hour. We’re going to be sending a battalion out there and kick some NVA ass!” The lieutenant’s voice sounded tougher than he felt.

  “We’ll be ready.” The NCO saluted again.

  The engineer private remembered the beach as he walked down the edge of the highway. He could see the manned Marine outpost on top of the hill about a thousand meters away. The road had once been paved with asphalt, but after years of not being used by the South Vietnamese, large holes and mounds of dirt defaced the winding stretch they were trying to clear of mines. The young Marine could hear
the sound of the AMTRACKs behind him every time the drivers would move forward and stop. The sound was comforting as he led the column down the enemy-held road. He was the point man, walking fifty meters out in front of even the infantry guards. No one wanted to be close to him in case he stepped on a mine. He felt as if he had to take a shit and tried squeezing his buttocks to make the feeling go away. It would be too embarrassing to make the whole column stop and wait for him to shit. He had only ten more minutes and then he would be relieved by his teammate; then he could take a long, long shit.

  The hum was constant as he swept the mine detector back and forth over the road. He stopped frequently to check thoroughly any depressions, or what looked like disturbed spots on the highway.

  He looked at his watch. His time was up; in fact he had spent an extra two minutes at the point. He turned down the volume of his headset and turned around to wave his replacement forward. The breath caught in his throat and he almost yelled out. His gunnery sergeant had been walking behind him carrying an M-60 light machine gun with a full belt of ammunition flipped over his arm and then over his left shoulder. A piece of stiff wire stuck out of the corner of his mouth.

  “Shit, Gunny! You scared me!”

  “Sorry, didn’t mean to.”

  “Have you been right there all the time?”

  “Every second.” The sergeant smiled. Do you think I’d let your skinny ass walk point alone?”

  “No…” The young Marine nodded and then smiled back. “No, I didn’t think you would.” He waved for his replacement to join him. “I’ve got to take a shit! You can bet your ass that I won’t do this again before I take my morning shit!”

  “Go on … use the brush over there and check it for snakes before you drop your pants!”

  “Great! I needed to hear that!” The Marine engineer didn’t like the idea of taking a shit in the bamboo and only went to the edge of the road where there was a slight bend. The men in the column couldn’t see him but his sergeant could. He didn’t care; he wasn’t that shy. He started unbuckling his belt and the gunny turned slightly away, looking up the side of the cliff that bordered the right-hand side of the narrow asphalt highway. He thought about the possibilities of an ambush. The site was perfect for as far as he could see down the road. French engineers had cut the highway out of the cliff side, and he could see where they had filled in the gorges and leveled the area. The left side sloped down to a fast-running river and then the terrain turned into rolling hills. This portion of Highway 9 would have been a beautiful Sunday drive, if there wasn’t a war going on. A gunship passed over his head and the NCO looked up at it as it leveled off and flew slowly along the edge of the cliff. A platoon of gunships had been assigned to patrol the cliffs just in case the NVA decided on risking an ambush.

  “You about done?” He looked over at his Marine.

  “Yeah!” The young engineer was replacing his battery belt and looked over at his sergeant.

  The rifle cracked. The engineer threw his arms out and fell backward into the bamboo, while his mine detector swung out and cut down a small stand of young plants.

  The gunny reacted instantly. The first burst from his machine gun was high, about three feet above the tan pith helmet. He lowered the barrel and fired again. The NVA sniper fell forward from his perch on the ledge. He had been a scout and had been ordered not to open fire, but to observe and report back on the size of the American unit. The NVA soldier had allowed his hate to take control when he saw the Americans and had disobeyed his orders.

  The infantry sergeant riding in the lead AMTRACK called for the gunships over his radio. Within seconds the first gunship made a pass at the cliff side, sending hunks of rock flying over the road. The gunnery sergeant stood over his Marine and looked down. He saw the blood bubbling around the young man’s mouth and his lips moving open and shut. He was still alive. The NCO checked the area once more for any more snipers and then laid his machine gun down next to the wounded engineer. He tore open the front of the Marine’s jacket and saw where the bullet had entered the young man’s lung. There wasn’t a second of hesitation as the experienced NCO covered the holes, both front and back, with small pieces of plastic from the large bandage packages and secured them. He paused to wipe the blood from the Marine’s mouth and then he looked into the man’s eyes and winked.

  “You’ll be fine … real fine…” He patted the youth’s arm and waved for the AMTRACK to call for a medevac chopper. “Now don’t you go passing out on me!”

  The Marine engineer private smiled and shook his head from side to side. He was still struggling to breathe.

  “Good … I’ll have a chopper here in a second to haul you back to the Navy hospital in Da Nang … a direct flight!”

  Night fell quietly in the jungle bordering the river that separated South Vietnam from Laos. The contingent of Marine AMTRACKs and infantry had formed a circular night lager site near a stand of mahogany trees where the underbrush was thin because the large trees had blocked out the light for rapid growth. The Marine engineer lance corporal who had earlier stepped on the mine walked around to the front of the command AMTRACK where the skull had been wired to the headlight. He paused and looked at the bleached white symbol of death, and a shiver traversed his spine. In the short time since they had arrived in Vietnam, things had changed. The skull had taken on a much more sinister meaning than it had when they had picked it up off a beach, before his buddy had been shot.

  He stared at the skull with the shiny white jaw gapped open and wondered who it had belonged to, what the person had felt, even how old the owner of the skull had been before he died; or maybe she had died.

  The Marine engineer could not take his eyes off the skull. He felt weird, as if the skull was trying to communicate something to him. The Marine stared harder in the half-light and then noticed that there were fillings in the teeth and that one of the front teeth had been capped. Very slowly it dawned on the young Marine that he was not looking at the skull of a Vietcong, but the skull of an American.

  “Fuck!” His voice was barely above a whisper. “Oh … fuck!” A shiver covered his body and he could feel the goose bumps pop up over his arms and legs.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Gunny … this is an American’s head.”

  “What?” The gunnery sergeant slipped next to the young Marine. “Where did you come up with that shit!”

  “Look at the teeth!”

  The NCO tried lifting the skull so he could see the teeth, but the commo wire had been pulled tight. He went around to the side so that the moonlight could shine directly on the exposed teeth and saw the front cap. It was enough. He knew that the skull had to be an American’s. “You’re right…”

  “What the fuck are we going to do with it?” The lance corporal’s voice was about to break. “I don’t want that there all night staring at me!”

  “We’ll cut it loose and wrap it up…” The NCO used the sharp blade of his K-Bar knife to cut through the commo wire. He carefully removed the skull and looked around, then saw the crook at the base of the mahogany tree where the roots entered the ground. He carried the skull over to the split roots and shoved it between two of them on the ground.

  “Hand me that piece of cardboard over there.” He pointed to a piece of waxed cardboard and the lance corporal handed it to him. The NCO folded a crease in the square pressed paper and shoved it in the damp earth in front of the skull. “There … now you can’t see it. Is that better?”

  The corporal nodded his head in agreement.

  “We’ll take it with us in the morning. I want to have the mortician back at the morgue in Da Nang make some impressions from its teeth and maybe we can locate an MIA soldier or Marine for a family back home.” The NCO frowned over the task. “Make sure we don’t forget it in the morning!”

  “Check, Gunny. I’ll remind you…” The Marine lance corporal felt another chill and laid his M-14 across his legs. It was going to be a long night.

  T
he skull looked blankly at the piece of waxed cardboard through its eye cavities. There used to be a functioning brain inside the empty cranium. If the brain could have had a second chance, it probably would have advised Private First Class Daryl Masters not to get into the speedboat with the Army Criminal Investigations Division’s sergeant and the NCO yardmaster. No, the brain would have warned him that they were not to be trusted, but his survival instincts hadn’t yet been fine tuned enough to detect that; he had been in Vietnam only a couple of weeks. His friend David Woods had sensed something was wrong and stayed out of it. Woods had refused to go with him to the CID office and report the black marketeering operation going on at the docks, and he was still alive.

  The monsoon hit the Marine detachment with the fury of a hurricane. The rain blocked out everything a foot in front of the guards, and hearing was totally prevented by the sound of the water. Millions of tons of water fell from the sky on the jungle below. Anything that had not been placed inside the AMTRACKS was instantly soaked through. The guards huddled under the makeshift poncho shelters that were ineffective against the storm and waited for it to pass.

  As quickly as it had appeared, the monsoon was gone. Water still poured from the leaves of the trees, but the heavy rain was over.

  “Let’s get loaded up and out of here!” The infantry sergeant waved for the guards to break the perimeter. “That fucking water is going to raise the levels of the streams and I want to get the fuck away from here before that happens! MOVE IT!”

  The men rushed to obey; none of them had liked the idea of being so close to the border with only a few men. There had been rumors that battalions of North Vietnamese soldiers patrolled the jungle next to the Laotian border, and every one of the Marines knew that they had left the protective cover of their artillery.

  “Come on!” The infantry sergeant passed the Marine engineer and slapped him on his rear. “MOVE YOUR ASS!”

  The first RPG-7 impacted the side of the AMTRACK at exactly the same instant the NCO’s hand had touched the lance corporal’s buttock.