Targets: A Vietnam War Novel

by Don McQuinn

  They crossed the moat on an improvised bridge of lashed bamboo that bent and mourned aloud at their departure.

  Going over the wire generated a chorus of scrapes and metallic stresses and he would have sworn he could feel the strands thin out under the hand that braced him.

  They moved away on a paddy dike. When the point signaled a stop, each man dropped and knew to cover left or right, ready to react to any trouble.

  A sense of kinship grew in Harker as he watched these men perform, bringing with it the double edge of apprehension and the almost euphoric embrace of risk that came with commitment beyond recall. The problems of Saigon were reduced to whining trivialities until he remembered Allen being wheeled out of his sight for the last time.

  The man in front of him rose once more and Harker followed suit, first insuring the man behind had seen him do so. Moving along the dike again, there was a different taste in his mouth. The exhilaration was in no way lessened, but the thought of Allen had put a mark on his anticipation and he recognized the fact. It was as if he’d over-sharpened a blade, turning a razor to a wire edge. It would cut once with a wonderful fineness but then fall short until honest steel could be re-established.

  Now the patrol moved from the easy going onto a trail that snaked through scrub taller than Harker’s head. Several times it skirted yawning pits, anomalous clearings blasted clean of vegetation by the B-29 Rolling Thunder bomb-rains that occasionally rumbled loud enough to be heard in Saigon. The ground grew more irregular and the long line undulated over small hills.

  The pace slowed radically in a little while and expectation scented the column as each man scoured the night around him with every sense he could bring to bear. They moved up to the right onto a ridge, carefully avoiding a crest, stuttering to a disjointed stop. A shadow materialized beside Cao and a conversation as muted as insect noises ensued. Then Cao was moving along the line, placing men. He stopped beside Harker.

  “The bunker is dug into the face of the hill across the valley on the other side of this ridge. We hope to have a good view when light comes but we dare not try to get closer. I will join you in a few minutes.”

  No answer was required or expected and Harker crawled the few feet to the top and peered through the vegetation. He could see nothing across the way, strain as he would, until suddenly a light flared, orange-red. A few feet away a man inhaled in a gasp and Harker knew he was thinking that for a cigarette a fool had just marked his comrades.

  When Cao rustled into place beside him, Harker told of the incident. Small white teeth flashed briefly in silent amusement.

  They waited.

  A delicate light stole across the ground into the shallow valley. Voices shouting in command timbre drifted to the men waiting on the ridge.

  A line of people appeared on the road from the north, some carrying only burdens, others carrying arms as well. They walked heavily and a sliver of sun splayed wavering shadows through a low pall of dust and out into the rank weeds. Guards flanked the column and although they maintained their positions in relation to the bearers, they appeared to move faster. The column branched off the road and moved to the bunker. The people with loads disappeared inside, emerging empty-handed. The guards peeled off and took up defensive positions. Once everything was off-loaded, the civilians were formed into three ranks and a uniformed figure came out of the bunker and harangued them until the sun was fat on the horizon. When he dismissed them they cheered, a reedy bleat that brought another flash of amusement to Cao’s face. He slid down the backside of the ridge as the bearers moved away. Harker looked to see Cao’s troops had positioned a 60mm mortar within a few yards of him. He’d heard no sound whatever.

  One of the men poised a squat bomb-shaped round over the mouth of the tube. Cao scuffled back to the ridge line and aimed carefully at one of the men on the other hill. Harker picked a target. He listened to Cao take a deep breath and hold it, did the same, and fired a fraction of a second after the crack of Cao’s weapon. Two men tumbled backwards as the bullets hit them and the mortar added its hollow “poomp!” at the same time.

  The enemy reacted well as the rest of Cao’s people opened fire. They dove for cover and fired back immediately, wasting no time searching for targets, relying on the mere fact of return fire to force down the volume they were receiving. The mortar rounds dropped among them with their peculiar snarling explosions while Cao’s men continued their small arms fusillade with steady discipline. A gesticulating figure appeared at the mouth of the bunker and even as he ducked back, bullets chewed at the entry.

  A man rose and dashed forward toward the ridge and as quickly as he fell behind some cover, another was up and moving, and then a third. Cao shouted to his right and the next man to rise received the full attention of almost half the patrol. The impact of multiple strikes lifted him clear of the ground and whirled his rifle away from him. The next man never got all the way to his feet before he was smashed back into the weeds. The third survived by surprising everyone and dashing rearward to disappear inside the bunker, barely beating a late reaction.

  Cao shouted for his men to cease fire. In the immense silence a moan lifted to the ridge. There was a movement in the brush and a man broke cover and raced for the bunker. When he made it, another man screwed up enough courage to try. With his success, the remaining troops stampeded for the safety of the hole.

  Cao’s men jeered and laughed. He himself turned a more serious expression on Harker.

  “You see the road?” he asked, indicating it with a move of his chin. “We will move to block it where it crosses this ridge. Four men will remain here to keep those people in the bunker. And there is other news. The radioman says District Headquarters knows of this action and has alerted us that a representative from MACV Phoenix office is on his way here.”

  “Did you get his name?”

  “No. Is that trouble?”

  “I’m not sure. We will have to see. But it insures adequate support for your men.”

  “It is something to hope for,” Cao said, laughing harshly. He rolled away, shouting to his men. Harker moved with them, sliding off the ridge. The mortar gunners were already waiting. The column moved swiftly back the way it had come and they were in their new positions straddling the road when the first artillery landed near the ridge. For a few minutes the howling rounds systematically marched through the brush. When at last they fell silent one of Cao’s four sprayed the bunker entry, the sputter of the small-bore weapon derisive after the impotent roaring of the artillery.

  Harker was surprised by the scowl twisting Cao’s face. The smaller man read the American’s reaction and explained.

  “They have better information than we have, Dai Uy. They would never risk exposing artillery if they did not know our support will be a long time coming. I think we may be in very deep shit, as I have heard your people say. I think they know they have time to teach us a lesson.”

  He looked from the American to his men. Harker followed his gaze, seeing the faces clouded with bitter resignation. When Cao ordered digging in, they obeyed, but their attitude confused Harker.

  “They act as if they expected this. What is happening?”

  Cao plucked a blade of grass and slit it along the central spine with his thumbnail. He continued to make slashes in it as he spoke.

  “Many of my men are former VC. At least two are long-time deserters from the NVA, I think. There are some who are deserters from our own army, I am certain. The Division Commander responsible for this area is not fond of combat and he thinks we should all be dead, anyhow.”

  The radio operator rushed up, heedless of the brush tugging at him. He threw a frightened look at Harker and maneuvered to speak to Cao without being overheard. Cao’s face grew bleaker with each word and his knowing look past the radioman into Harker’s eyes told the latter all he needed.

  “Delays?”

  Cao nodded. The radioman was sweating and Harker suddenly realized the man was probably thinking of his fami
ly and home a short distance down the road and a vengeful combat force advancing on them. At the sound of helicopter blades the man’s eyes were already beaming hope before he turned to look. Seeing only one aircraft, he slumped. Cao barked at him to take off the radio and issued more instructions as the man hurried to comply.

  “Go to Hai. Tell him to go to every man on that side of the road and tell them that no one is to speak to anyone who gets out of this helicopter. Speak to no one for any reason. Is that understood? And you tell every man on this side of the road.”

  The man nodded and trotted off. Cao turned to Harker. “You may not live to see your plan work, even if all goes as you hope. Did you come prepared for that?”

  Harker smiled. “I will live long enough to see something work, my friend.”

  Cao suddenly busied himself with his canteen. “Yes, I see that now. Well, let us get on with it.”

  The helicopter touched down through its own tornado of red dust and three figures tumbled out. Cao’s people stared with rural curiosity at two more Americans and a Vietnamese as they moved clear of the dirt, brushing themselves. A murmur buzzed among the PF personnel at the sight of the taller American and the Vietnamese in civilian clothes.

  Harker waved at Chavez and got a wave in return as he got to his feet. To the other American he said, “What brings you out here, Barline?”

  Barline continued to whack at his clothes. “A tip. I was told you were out here with these Phoenix people and there’s another My Lai going on. Where are the prisoners?”

  “We don’t have any.”

  Before Barline could pursue the ambiguous tone of the answer, another artillery round shrieked onto the ridge and one of Cao’s men responded with a solitary pop. Barline rounded on Chavez.

  “You said the goddam lighting was over! What was that shit?”

  Chavez glowered. “I don’t control the fucking war. You’re the one who beat on the General’s desk until he sent me out here with you. If you don’t like the service, complain to the cook.” He waved an arm in the direction of the artillery.

  With no other rounds dropping, Barline turned his attention back to Harker.

  “Don’t try to hold out on me, Captain. This isn’t your operation. You help me and I’ll make a point of remembering it.”

  “We don’t have any prisoners.” Harker met Barline’s hard gaze and turned away. “We haven’t seen a civilian since sunrise. All I can speak for is what’s happening where we are right now.” He pointed at the bunker. “We chased some NVA troops into that bunker over there. They came from the village to the north. Cao’s unit isn’t the one doing anything to the civilians in the village. I don’t know anything about that and neither does he.”

  “There’s another Popular Force unit up there in the village?”

  Harker looked guiltily at Chavez before answering. “I didn’t say that. I don’t know if there is or not. I haven’t been near it. Neither has Cao or his people.”

  “Sure.” Barline smiled. “I hear what you’re saying. Is there an American with them?”

  Chavez made a choking sound and Harker winced. Barline spun on the swarthy man. “You better keep the fuck out of this,” he warned, and turned back to Harker. “Well?”

  Reluctantly, the words painfully slow, Harker said, “I don’t have to tell you anything. I’ve got my rights, too.”

  “Really.” Barline signaled to Han. “Let’s go.” Then, to Harker, “Frankly, the idea of you talking about rights makes me want to puke.” To Chavez he said, “You’re coming with me, Captain.”

  “Screw that,” Chavez said. “You want to see the atrocities? Be my guest. We told you there’s nothing for you up there.”

  Barline hesitated. Without taking his eyes from Chavez, he said, “Han! Ask these people what’s going on in the village to the north! Ask about the American running the interrogations!”

  Han did as directed, snapping questions at the radio operator. The black-clad PF stared wide-eyed with mute terror at being the man chosen to enforce Cao’s edict. In addition, completely baffled by the thrust of the questions, he kept looking nervously to the north as if expecting to find an American leading the NVA unit he knew to be advancing on them. He swallowed audibly and looked to his leader. Cao refused to acknowledge him, glaring at Han. No one spoke.

  “Not speak,” Han announced. “Maybe something happen they not want tell.”

  “Bet your ass,” Barline growled, breaking off a branch and improvising a white flag with his handkerchief. “We’ll put a stop to this shit.” He shoved Han out onto the road. “You keep hollering, loud. Tell whoever’s out there we’re friends and—what’s the word for press?—bao chi. You tell ‘em we’re bao chi.”

  They moved off down the road. As they started around the first bend, Chavez exhaled gustily. Han’s shouted message lost volume, became mere sound. Chavez broke the group’s silence.

  “You didn’t tell me you were going to have someone telephone him and tip this operation. I see what you meant when you said you were setting up something hot. He was in my office at 0400. Had the duty roust me and was talking to a General by the time I got in. He really believes he’s got the story of the year.”

  Harker said, “Believe me, he does.”

  The manner of the answer cocked Chavez’ head. “That sounds funny. What’s really going on up there?”

  Harker described the morning’s action. “Now we’ve got an NVA force hurrying to stomp on us. I honestly wasn’t sure how I was going to handle this Barline deal, but he’s running smack at them, and they’re burning. It makes that part easy. The hard part is, Cao’s called for help and the local General’s dragging his feet. I don’t care if I get hurt, as long as Barline gets it, but I’m sorry you got dragged in, buddy. It could get hairy.”

  Chavez winced. “Holy shit! Gimme the radio! Where’s it link, District?”

  Harker nodded. Chavez grabbed the handset and drew off into the brush, his lips brushing the microphone as he jammed words into it, a mongrel mix of English, Vietnamese, and profanity.

  A sudden spackle of small arms fire erupted to the north. It pecked to a stop and only the whir of insects touched the silence. There was another short burst and then another. The silence resumed.

  Harker exchanged a look with Chavez, who returned to the radio. A few moments later he handed it back to the operator.

  “Special Forces has a liaison at this District. I got him. We’ll have a Magic Dragon here in around a half-hour. And the General’s found some people. If we can keep from being overrun for a while, the Dragon’ll chew ‘em up and the ARVNs’ll come in behind and clean up what’s left.”

  Harker translated for Cao who shouted his excitement and sent messengers racing with the news.

  The first NVA troops scouted the bend in the road, pressing along its flanks, their attention visibly wandering to where Cao’s four stakeouts popped an occasional round at the bunker entrance.

  The two Americans and Cao watched the advance with grim satisfaction, seeing its intended course designed to sweep up the ridge from the road, rolling up the pesky force that had their supply unit pinned down.

  The oncoming bo doi moved well, using the ground, never forgetting to check where the next step would take them, as opposed to concentrating on their final goal. It was as professional as could be hoped, good men, well trained and experienced, and the lead elements never had a chance, advancing directly into a hidden, dug-in unit. When the point was no more than fifteen yards away Cao opened fire on him with a long burst that sent him down like rags. The rest of the line opened fire immediately.

  From the corner of his eye Harker saw a bright flash from the vicinity of the men still on the ridge, followed by a tremendous explosion from the bunker. He realized the men left behind had been armed with rockets for just that purpose. Ammunition exploded underground and the shock wave rolled across the land and the fighting seemed to recoil, the rattle of small arms insignificant in the face of such force. T
he respite lasted but a moment, and then the main body of the enemy was coming around the bend in the road, small units advancing in leaps and bounds. The survivors of the lead elements fired to their front, recovering from the surprise that had scythed so many of them. There were cries from Cao’s line and somewhere to Harker’s right a man began to scream in the mindless way of a destroyed body.

  Cao signaled his mortar crew back and sent a runner to pull back his unengaged left wing. The four on the distant ridgeline continued to fire down the valley at the advancing enemy. The troops ignored the long-range sniping, but the artillery managed a few rounds to let them know they were observed. Then it shifted to Cao’s line. He signaled again and the extreme right flank took off rearward.

  “I will ask you to leave now,” he said to Harker and Chavez with almost drunken formality. “I would be embarrassed to have you killed here.”

  “I’m not wild about it myself,” Harker muttered, and punched Chavez’ ribs. They both fled down the road at a dead run as the tempo of the enemy firing picked up. A few more yards and they fell in with the PFs on their new, higher line. The Vietnamese paid no attention to their arrival, having already accepted them as partners in the job at hand and too busy to be concerned with differences of any nature.

  The two of them joined in the covering fire allowing Cao to pull out the remainder of his men. They broke away as individuals and dodged and darted on their way back, but the enemy shouldered his way onto the ground they’d just left and unleashed a storm of fire after them. Three men dropped outright and the rest dove for anything that suggested cover or concealment. The covering unit’s rate of fire increased to hysteric proportions until the artillery resumed its giant’s strides among them.

  A PF moved off the line, no weapon in his hands. Another called his name and he turned momentarily, only to lower his head at the sound of the next incoming round and run.

  Noticing motion to the right, Harker rose a few inches and identified it as troops. They were being outflanked. If they didn’t retreat from this position and leave Cao with his men trapped, the entire unit was finished.