13th Valley

by John M. Del Vecchio

  Brooks stood on one of the helicopter skids talking to the pilot, the last of the leftovers were being packed.

  “Try it,” Egan shouted into the noise of the helicopter and he screamed again jumping and shaking and laughing.

  Cherry attempted a yell, “AAaaaa …”

  “Really yell,” Egan demanded laughing, tears coming to his eyes from facing into the gale rotor wash.

  “AAAEeeeik,” Cherry shouted. He laughed.

  “AAAAAAAAAAaaaahh,” Egan screamed laughing and shaking.

  “AAAAAAAaaaeeeikk,” Cherry screamed and laughed out of control. Egan was holding his wrist and shaking it up and back. They were like two sport fanatics watching their team win in the last second.

  “AAAAAAAAaaaahh …” They screamed together. Then the helicopter lifted and left and again they had to be silent.

  It was 1700 hours when Alpha finally began moving again, west again. The GreenMan’s pushing and shouting had reversed the slowdown of resupply. The call of the Khe Ta Laou accelerated their hump. Alpha moved out at a killer pace. They moved in column, 3d Plt, the CP, 2d and 1st. They moved quickly down the west side of 636 to a rivulet gorge between that peak and the peak of Hill 606. Nahele walked point, Snell slack. Their disgust had changed to hatred. Nahele led the column along the gorge, cut above the rivulet, looking for a crossing. He refused to cross where Caldwell directed, nor would he cross where they had crossed the day before, where, on the other side, Cherokee was killed.

  Nahele led the column 100 meters parallel with the trickling water to just above a tiny waterfall. There, after sending security upstream, he crossed. The vegetation at the gorge crossing was thick and lush and dark. The canopy created an almost opaque roof and Nahele and Snell followed by the column slipped across in the darkness. Nine men remained at the crossing. They would return to 636 to ambush the LZ. Nahele worked the gorge cut back along the west side then turned due west and picked a steep climb toward 606’s peak. He moved slowly, jungle patrol cautious, yet steadily. He covered the one map kilometer, perhaps two surface klicks, in under an hour. Everyone behind the point was panting. The unit circled the peak, rested for five minutes then moved out again, again Nahele at point. Alpha continued its murderous march. They descended west off 606 into another steep-sided ravine, crossed another stream at the bottom and climbed another hill. Every 200 meters they paused for a five-minute break to allow the column to close up.

  At times the trail became so steep they had to crawl and dig in with their fingers and knees to ascend. They climbed to a position just below the next peak west, Hill 711, broke for five, spread out on line and swept up and over the top. On top they rediscovered the NVA bunkers Charlie Company had found and destroyed on the 13th. Half the bunkers had been rebuilt. The enemy was nowhere to be seen. Alpha set up a full company perimeter in the enemy fighting complex. It was almost sunset. Brooks directed patrols, FO called DTs to the firebase, Doc checked and taped a turned ankle of a boonierat in 2d Plt. Men were directed urgently in every direction. A hasty CP meeting was called. Brooks, with the concurrence of all the platoon leaders and sergeants, directed 2d and 3d Plts to move out at gray dusk for an NDP 300 meters northeast, downhill. It would mark the beginning of Alpha’s plunge into the valley. Brooks directed 1st Plt, accompanied by the company CP, to follow 2d and 3d to the new NDP, then to leave their rucks and return east in lights. They would move back to Hill 606 and set up as a reaction force for the ambush team.

  They waited for the proper degree of grayness in the advancing dusk. It would be only a matter of minutes. From the summit of Hill 711 the soldiers could see west down the Khe Ta Laou and across the Da Krong and the narrow plain and into the foothills of Laos. The sun splashed a reverse pattern of the day’s first light, splashed and refracted against the base of accumulating high clouds. The sky glowed momentarily then became gray. The clouds above the Laotian hills grew thick and began to roll east.

  The boonierats watched the front approach, watched the sky seemingly fold in upon itself and upon them. Everything became still and quiet.

  “You decide what you’ll do yet, Ruf?” Lt. Thomaston asked Lt. Brooks as they waited.

  “What would you do … Bill?” Brooks responded. He had almost called him Lila. Be here, he ordered his mind.

  “I’d DEROS,” Thomaston said. “Of course, I can’t make up your mind. But if you go, I get the company, I think. I think the GreenMan’d give it to me.”

  “You don’t have much time left yourself,” Brooks said.

  “Twenty-five and a wake-up. He might give it to Wurzback but I think I’d be acting CO at least.”

  “Let’s ruck up,” Brooks said standing. He helped Thomaston up then asked, “Do you really want it?”

  “Can’t look bad on my record,” Thomaston said.

  “I’ll let you know within a day or two,” Brooks said.

  The ambush team that had dropped off at the ravine between Hills 636 and 606 consisted of the 1st Sqd of the 1st Plt minus Steve Hoover, plus Cherry and Doc McCarthy. They had set up a tiny defensive ring on the east bank of the gorge above the crossing. Ambush had its benefits and its drawbacks. The volunteers did not have to hump. They sat, rested, relaxed. Two at a time they crawled to the stream to fill their canteens and wash. The drawbacks would begin after dark.

  “Gettin useta boonie life?” Silvers whispered to Cherry when their turn in the stream came.

  “Mostly,” Cherry whispered back. Cherry was nervous and tight. The gorge crossing reminded him of the red ball from the water run. Cherry’s eyes examined the jungle west of the water and the stream above. He could feel the NVA soldier out there, feel his first KIA watching him.

  Silvers removed his clothes and sat in the water. He washed himself attempting to make as few motions as possible. He had brought a bar of soap and he lathered himself and rinsed part by part, foot to head, slowly. Cherry’s head snapped up frequently while he filled his canteens. His eyes searched the stream bank and jungle.

  “Here,” Silvers whispered flipping Cherry the bar of soap. “Ya owe it to yerself.” Silvers dressed quietly. He stood guard while Cherry undressed.

  Undressing made Cherry feel more aware of his body and more vulnerable. He was coated with dirt. Oh God, my pits stink, he thought. The water was cool and clear though it felt somehow grainy as if it had picked up and suspended immense quantities of clear sand. The coolness felt wonderful. Cherry squatted by the stream and washed quickly, cupping water upon himself with his hands, soaping then rinsing by cupping again.

  “Ya oughta get in,” Silvers whispered. “That’ll keep the jungle rot from gettin ya.”

  “This reminds me of a stream at Pomparaug,” Cherry said stepping into the stream timidly, straining to maintain control. He did not want to step too far from his rifle.

  “Where?” Silvers whispered.

  “A Boy Scout camp I went to.”

  “Oh.”

  “This is really a nice spot,” Cherry said. “I wish I could stop thinkin about dinks for just one fucken moment.”

  “Yeah,” Silvers whispered. They were standing very close to each other. “I know whatcha mean.”

  “Leon,” Cherry said very quietly. He stepped from the water and dried himself with his filthy towel. “I’ve been havin some terrible nightmares.” Silvers shrugged sympathetically. “I keep seein that guy,” Cherry said. Silvers dropped his head and did not speak. “I keep thinkin he’ll go away,” Cherry explained. “Then we get to a spot like this and I can feel him out there watchin me.”

  Silvers nodded his head in agreement. He was not sure how to respond. “It was either you or him,” he said finally.

  “Leon, I’m goina see that guy every night for the rest of my life.”

  “It’ll go away, Man.”

  “Leon,” Cherry said trying to stress the intensity of the emotion that had gripped him, “he didn’t just die.” Cherry shook like a naked frightened child. “He didn’t just die, Leon.”
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br />   “It don’t do any good to think about it,” Silvers said. Cherry’s emotional display unsettled him. “Man, the first rule out here is survive. That means kill em before they kill you.”

  “Leon, when he fell,” Cherry’s eyes were glazing over and he was inducing a trance as if he wanted to force the NVA soldier’s spirit to appear, “he … he was kickin. I wanted to go over and stop him but the AKs were firin. I was like a robot. I just fired at the noise and he kept kickin and twitchin.”

  “Come on,” Silvers said grasping Cherry hard by the arm. “Get dressed. Just say fuck it and drive on. Don’t mean nothin. Where’s my soap?”

  Silvers’ jolt knocked Cherry out of his trance. He dressed quickly, grabbed his rifle and Silvers’ soap. “Here,” he said returning the soap. “Thanks.”

  “Oh shit. Goddamn.”

  “What?”

  “Look at this, Mothafucker.”

  “What?”

  “There. On my soap. You fucken pig. Yer pubies.” Silvers held the bar of soap by his fingertips and wiped it against a rock scratching off a few curly black hairs.

  “Oh shee-it,” Cherry gurgled beneath his breath.

  “Mothafucker. You expect me to use that soap!”

  The ravine became still and dark. Everyone had washed. The jungle about them seemed to be tightening down, closing in. The ambush team discussed their plan. Lairds and Denhardt said they should move out now. Silvers paused and told them to wait five more minutes. They all squirmed. “Call Quiet Rover,” Silvers directed Cherry. “Tell em we’re movin up.” They moved out. Silvers led with Jax at slack then the gun team of Marko and Brunak, Lairds, Denhardt, Numbnuts, Cherry and Doc McCarthy at drag. They climbed straight but slowly, pausing often to insure they were not observed.

  The ambush team stopped their ascent 200 meters from the LZ on the summit of 636. With each step up the canopy had thinned and it had become lighter. Silvers was apprehensive. Had he left the ravine too soon? It had been very dark by the stream but it was now far too light to move into ambush position. The team sat in line on the trail, in complete silence. With only nine men they did not dare even cough.

  Without warning a wind gusted from the west. Just a single gust, then calm. It had come suddenly and it caused the vegetation to shudder. Good, Silvers thought. With a wind we’ll be able to move in undetected. The team’s plan was to slip in from below and set up behind the blown trees just off the LZ. This would give them clear fire across the crest. With luck, North Vietnamese troops would come scavenging. It was common for soldiers of the rich American army to discard unwanted cans of food or even for some, like Numbnuts, to discard extra ammunition. The poorer NVA thrived on American LZs and old NDP sites. The better the American unit the less they left but Americans, unaccustomed to want, able to call in resupply helicopters, nearly always left something for NVA foragers.

  A second gust of wind shook the canopy. Keep it up, Silvers thought. He looked west into the wind. The gusts came in force now. The soldiers could see the clouds behind the wind, high towering clouds closing upon them from the west, enveloping the valley and the ridges. They could see the line of the approaching rain, the rain curtain reaching 711, 606, the ravine below them.

  Wind shook the jungle above them. The rushing seemed to vibrate the hill. Steadily the curtain advanced, harsh parallel streaking water, not drops but lines crashing, resonating the foliage. Doc McCarthy at the rear of the team got hit first. One gigantic splat then total inundation swept across them all and the rain and ricocheting mist became as ambient as the subdued light. Numbnuts, Cherry and McCarthy at the team’s tail pulled their shirts tight in useless protection. Numbnuts unstrapped his helmet from his ruck and put it on his head. Cherry watched him and did the same. The noise of the rain on the helmets and in the canopy was very loud.

  “Rover Two Two, Quiet Rover Four, security check. Over.” El Paso radioed Cherry. Cherry scrunched down over the handset and listened as El Paso repeated the call. Then Cherry keyed the handset twice, indicating they were secure.

  With the rain came darkness. What luck, Silvers thought. He stood. He was totally soaked. The trail became a mudbrown stream. Man, what luck, he thought. When the boonierats were moving they liked the rain because it was difficult to be heard. When they were set up they hated the rain for then it was cold and it masked the sounds of the moving enemy. Great, Silvers thought. He stirred Jackson. “Let’s go.” Jax grabbed Marko’s shoulder and gave a tug. Marko grabbed Brunak’s, Brunak Lairds’, Lairds Denhardt’s, and Denhardt Numbnuts’. There the signal broke. Numbnuts did not respond. The wind tore into him, opening his shirt even as he struggled to keep it shut. He did not want to move. He simply sat. The first six team members squirmed up toward the LZ in complete blackness, unaware of the last three sitting quietly.

  The squall further eroded Alpha’s morale. It had been a miserable day and now there was this tremendous torrent. From the first stinging splash it had saturated them to the skin. The platoons had humped off 711 in the initial onslaught. They had slid and slipped and fallen on the trail. The weight of their rucksacks toppled them. Their boot soles clogged with mud and their feet shot out from under them a dozen times each. 2d and 3d Plts set up a hasty NDP and sent out patrols. 1st and the CP left their rucks and quickly descended then climbed back to Hill 606. At their new NDP they huddled in pockets under the palms but the rain was so thick and the wind so fierce, they felt totally exposed. In the midst of the assembling CP group Brooks sat. Water puddled on his thighs. It ran from his face into his mouth. It trickled in streams beneath his shirt. The burden of command had become heavier. His company was too spread out for such a hostile AO and his troops were disgusted with the day’s events. Their fear was increasing, their confidence waning. The noise of the rain obliterated any possibility of hearing enemy movement. To add to the injustices their NDP site was so steep they could not lie down without rolling or sliding downhill. The guards found trees or shrubs to lie against or to straddle but gravity pushed them into the trees with all their weight and every few minutes they had to shift positions. It would be a miserable, restless night.

  The CP group was joined by Thomaston and Egan and the meeting began. It lasted only a few minutes. Cahalan reviewed the day’s activities about the valley. Recon had killed one NVA in a brief encounter. Bravo had engaged an unknown-sized enemy force with unknown results. Egan bitched about the tunnel. “God mothafuckin whore damn,” he cussed. “We’re practically still right there. We’re jumpin back and forth, not goin anywhere, not doin anything where we’re at.” El Paso agreed and said that’s what killed Ridgefield. That dampened their spirits even more.

  “Where ma plasma?” Doc questioned. “They was supposed ta send out a hun’red bag.”

  No one answered him. They all seemed to be in a stupor. Their eyes had sunk into deepening sockets. Since leaving the tunnel they had covered 3000 map meters, perhaps six kilometers climbing up and down, each carrying refilled rucks and equipment, all on full alert, in either tropical heat or in harsh cold rain.

  “Tomorrow,” Brooks said a little too loud, loud enough to inject command energy into his weary soldiers, “tomorrow we get out of here. We cross the valley. El Paso, get De Barti and Caldwell on the hook. Cahalan get Red Rover. Any questions? No? Good. Tomorrow we get the ambush team back in at first light, then rendezvous with 2d and 3d. Then we cross the valley.”

  Cherry shuddered: The wind was harsher now. He had crossed and wrapped his arms about his chest. His rifle was muzzle up between his legs, his thighs pressed it as if for warmth. The jungle was pitch black. Cherry could not even see McCarthy who was sitting less than a meter from his feet. The trail had become a river and the water surged against Cherry’s ruck and his ass. The water streamed right through the material of his pants. Cherry’s teeth chattered. With this wind and rain, he thought, I could probably scream and not be heard. El Paso called again checking security. Cherry keyed the transmit bar. He rolled to his left, to
his knees, and crawled forward a foot. Numbnuts was right there.

  “Hey,” Cherry hissed. “Hey, find out when we’re …” Cherry reached out and grabbed the thumperman.

  “What?” Numbnuts said, startled.

  “Cool it. Hey, when we goina move? Were you sleepin?”

  “I wasn’t sleepin,” Numbnuts snapped.

  “When we goina move out?” Cherry asked.

  McCarthy tapped Cherry from behind. “We movin? I’m fuckin freezin. When we …”

  It took three or four minutes in the dark for them to determine they had broken contact, had become separated, were alone. “Hey, nobody signaled me,” Numbnuts defended himself.

  “You mothafucker,” McCarthy spit at Numbnuts’ face. “I can’t believe you did that.”

  “I wasn’t sleepin,” Numbnuts snapped again. “Maybe you was sleepin.”

  The urge to smash Numbnuts in the face seethed in McCarthy. It seethed in Cherry too. Cherry forced his brain back into control. What should I do? he thought. What’s got to be done? He knew he could not call out, ‘Hey, where are you guys?’ though that was his first impulse. He hesitated to use the radio. He could call back to the CP but he could not call the ambush team. He had the team’s only radio.

  “Willis,” Cherry addressed Numbnuts using the thumperman’s surname to establish his own authority, “move up the trail about ten feet. See if you can find Denhardt. Doc, you watch below us. I’m goina call Rover Two and get Egan. We gotta link back up with the team.”

  “I aint goin up there,” Numbnuts protested. “I can’t see.”

  “Shut the fuck up,” Cherry whispered violently. A natural command instinct had surfaced in him. “When you speak, you speak quiet, Fucker.”

  “You go up there,” Numbnuts whined irritably. “Why should I listen to you? Huh? It wasn’t my fault … Auughh …” He screamed as Cherry jerked him up by his shirt then slammed him down into the mud. Cherry grasped him by the throat, held him with his left hand. Numbnuts squirmed. Cherry cocked his right arm, squeezed his fist, aimed at Numbnuts’head …