by Robin Moore
Just before leaving camp he had tapped out a radio message to control telling him to have a U-10 at the airstrip as soon as there was enough light to land.
The Pathet Lao buildup was ten miles southwest of the airstrip; Arklin and his men would take a fairly direct trail through the jungle from the airstrip to the Communist camp. Leading a company plus two platoons and the four bazooka teams, each team augmented by a third man to help carry the nine-pound rocket projectiles, he reached the airstrip before dark. There he conducted a quick inspection of the security, and then with Pay Dang beside him moved back into the jungle and started down the trail to the Communist camp.
The Meo company had the job of securing the route all the way from the airstrip to the Communist camp. Because of the necessity for close timing and speed on the return from the operation, the raiders would follow the same route both ways. As they headed down the trail in the darkness, Pay Dang and the Meo company commander dropped off men at intervals along the way. By the time they established a command post less than a mile from the Pathet Lao camp, an entire company of Meos was strung out along both sides of the trail all the way back to the airstrip. Arklin realized this was very thin security; still the Communists would be unable to ambush the trail without running into his flankers, and the ensuing fire-fight would warn him to take the more arduous alternate route back to the airstrip, cutting through the jungle and keeping off trails.
The two scouts who had remained at the Pathet Lao camp met Pay Dang, Arklin, the two platoons, and the bazooka teams at the CP. They reported that the Chinese and Viet Minh officers were still living in the bamboo longhouse close to the east perimeter of the camp and that more Pathet Lao troops were coming into the camp all the time.
It was after midnight when Pay Dang and Arklin stationed the four rocket-launcher teams about 250 yards from the north perimeter of the Communist camp. One man on each team had a watch, and Arklin gave orders for them to commence firing at 0230. Leaving the bazooka men, Arklin and the Meos stealthily made their way around the Communist camp, being careful to stay beyond the Communist listening posts. It required almost two hours for them to crawl through the jungle to the positions they took up opposite the east perimeter.
The Communists were making no attempt to maintain noise or light discipline. Cooking fires burned all through the camp, which Arklin now estimated to be about one hundred yards square. When the Meo scouts told him they were exactly opposite the bamboo house of the Communist officers, Arklin hand-signaled a halt.
They rested in the dark jungle for half an hour, and at 0215 crept toward the edge of the camp. The perimeters of the temporary camp were not clearly marked; there was no barbed wire, just a bamboo-stake fence more designed to keep the troops from wandering away from their officers than to prevent outsiders from penetrating. Ahead of Arklin’s men the special-action squad slithered through the jungle. It would be their job to silently kill the sentries. Arklin wanted to get as close to camp as possible before the firing started. The raiding party suddenly halted as a guard, walking in haphazard fashion, wandered in their direction. They could clearly see him outlined in the faint glow from the bamboo longhouse. Suddenly the dark shadow that was the sentry seemed to loom larger—and then it disappeared completely. Arklin and his men started moving forward again. They came to the body of the sentry, its throat a bloody grin. Arklin and his men halted. Pay Dang would lead the actual assault on the officers’ quarters and capture the Chinese Communists.
Arklin looked at his watch. It was 0227. He waited silently with his security squad as Pay Dang and the rest of the Meos crept almost into camp. Suddenly the whoosh of rockets roared from the north. The rockets exploded in the middle of the camp, lighting it up with the fiery white phosphorus. Confusion, screams of the burned, and aimless firing broke out throughout the Communist compound. Arklin and his squad with automatic rifles at the ready watched as Pay Dang and his men rushed to the bamboo longhouse and surrounded it. Four more rockets whammed into the camp, this time high-explosive rounds. In the densely occupied buildup area men were killed and wounded; terrified and shrieking Communists ran helplessly around in the flames. From the doors at both ends of the officers’ quarters Communists desperately pulling on clothing and pistol belts emerged to rally their men. Coolly the Meos cut them down with automatic weapons. Pay Dang, holding his automatic carbine in front of him, rushed inside the longhouse followed closely by a squad. Another squad entered from the other side. Within moments the house was in flames from thermite grenades the Meos carried for the purpose.
Another salvo of rockets tore through the camp, like the others carefully aimed to avoid coming too close to the longhouse. Some Communist leaders succeeded in rallying demoralized troops and charged out of the camp to the north toward the rocket launchers. In the light of the blazing bamboo officers’ quarters Arklin saw Pay Dang and his men emerge, dragging and beating two men in unfamiliar uniforms.
Arklin pulled a tin box out of his pocket. In moments Pay Dang and his triumphant Meos reached Arklin and thrust two badly mauled, unmistakably Chinese prisoners at him. Arklin plunged a thick-needled syringe into one Chinese Communist’s bare arm and jammed the plunger down. The prisoner let out a scream that was stifled by the barrel of a rifle slapped across the side of his head. In seconds the other Chinese prisoner was subdued and also injected with heavy sedative. Already the Meos were tying the Chinese Communists by wrists and ankles to the heavy staffs they had cut, and as another volley of rocket fire shook the camp the Meos hefted the poles to their shoulders and set off with the limp prisoners into the jungle.
Arklin and Pay Dang followed, heading for the rallying point. There they would form and proceed along their secured trail back to the airstrip.
Communists were running about the edges of their half-destroyed camp, firing indiscriminately into the woods. A few of the officers who hadn’t been killed by the Meos had managed to get groups of unwounded men to follow them into the jungle.
Arklin knew that they were a long way from safety. There must be well over 600 men in the camp, and it wouldn’t take the hardcore Viet Minh officers and troops long to organize a pursuit. The Meos’ hope was that the Communists wouldn’t find their trail and come after them. Even though the flank security company would ambush a few of them, a determined pursuit by the Communists might catch the Meos. It was a chance Arklin had to take.
The ultimate success of the mission still depended upon the rocket-launcher teams. Arklin tried to picture their actions as he pushed through the jungle.
They would have dug pits and carefully camouflaged them. Then after they had fired four rockets each, they were to have hidden their rocket launchers and the remainder of their rockets in the pits. By now the bazooka teams would be scattered and hiding in the jungle as the Communists set out in pursuit. If they carried out the final stage of their mission, Arklin felt sure the main assault force, which had suffered no casualties yet, would safely make it to the airstrip with their two Chinese prisoners.
At the rallying point, a small clearing secured by three men with submachine guns, Arklin and Pay Dang allowed the minimum amount of time to regroup and then started off again. The men carrying the inert Chinese on the poles were relieved every five minutes in order to make maximum speed along the trail. The prisoners were carried in the center of the two platoons and Arklin walked right beside them.
They began passing their security stations. The men guarding the trail stayed in position after the column passed through. They would wait one hour to provide security for the rocket-launcher teams and then, proceeding up the trail, form a rear guard.
Sporadic shooting and shouting still could be heard in the jungle behind them. As they reached the trail the firing sounded closer and then the Meos heard unmistakable signs of pursuit. Once they were spotted, Arklin knew, half the camp would be after them.
He looked at the luminous-dial watch. It was 0300. By this time the Pathet Lao should have passed beyond the b
azookamen’s hiding places, and the four teams should be climbing down from trees or digging themselves out of jungle bush and creeping back to their hidden weapons. Quietly and carefully, they would be pulling the cover from the pits and taking out the rocket launchers and rockets preparatory to firing another four salvos each.
The noise and shooting was getting closer, as the Meos hurried up the trail. Arklin dropped back to organize the rear-guard defense. There was no deviating from the trail now. They would have to make it to the airstrip on this route.
Suddenly the noise he had been straining to hear exploded from the jungle: the sounds of rockets being fired, followed by thundering blasts. Arklin cheered to himself. The Meo bazookamen had gone back to their weapons. The noise of the Communist pursuers lessened as they abandoned the chase and fought through the jungle to get back to their camp, which seemed to be under direct attack anew. About twenty seconds after the first salvo hit, the resounding blast of four more high-explosive rockets shook the air; twenty seconds later yet another thundering explosion rumbled through the jungle.
Arklin found himself mentally calling to the Meo men to get out while they could; they had done their job well. The diversion had succeeded. Pursuit had ceased.
Arklin’s heart fell, his stomach tightened as he heard a sudden resurgence of firing in the jungle behind them. Had the Pathet found the Meos? The sharp rattle of small-arms fire kept up for several minutes. All three men on the rocket-launcher teams carried carbines, and it sounded to Arklin as though they were being forced to use them. He stayed at the rear of the column, hoping that as planned some of the bazookamen would catch up with them.
An hour up the trail Arklin began to give up hope. The security guard would already be forming behind them. If the brave Meo rocket-launcher teams weren’t on the path now, they never would be. Arklin would have walked back but his duty was to stay with the Chinese Communists until they were turned over to control.
The Meo were making record time up the trail. With the knowledge that their mission had been successful and that they had killed many Pathet Lao, the tribesmen strode along smartly. Even the men carrying the Chinese Communists were stepping out, to be relieved of their groaning, mumbling burdens before they could tire.
Pale false dawn was showing in the sky to the east when the forward platoon was challenged by the security guard at the airstrip. By the time the entire Meo contingent was gathered around the strip the sky was brightening. To Arklin’s joy, three of the rocket teams had emerged unscathed after a jungle skirmish with the Pathets. One member of the fourth team was missing, and two wounded were carried along the trail. The security guards had saved them by waiting longer than the allotted hour. They had been at their positions when the two wounded Meos managed to stagger and stumble their way to the trail.
Just as the sun rose beyond the mountains, the distant purring of an airplane could be heard, and soon two small planes came into sight out of the west. Arklin pulled the pin on a yellow smoke grenade and the planes headed directly for the strip. First one, then the other gray and unmarked U-10 landed and braked to a stop. Frank Methuan jumped out of the first plane and strode across to Arklin, grasping his hand warmly and patting him on the back.
“You’re slowing them down for us, Bernie,” he cried happily. “The Communists are getting ready to hit poor old Kong Le and the other government battalions. The government troops are deserting in platoons.”
Methuan looked around the airstrip and then back at Arklin. “Guess you couldn’t snatch a Chicom for us, eh? We wanted one for propaganda. It would square whatever action we take if we could prove the gooks are here.”
Arklin laughed. “Two Chicoms coming up.” He yelled for Pay Dang, and the montagnard leader proudly led his men forward bearing the two Chinese Communists dangling from poles.
Methuan whistled. “Good work, Bernie.” Then anxiously, “They’re going to live, aren’t they?”
“Sure. I knocked them out with Nembutol. They should be waking up about the time you get them back to base.”
“Outstanding!”
“Thank Pay Dang and his Meos. They did the job, and incidentally they inflicted heavy damage on the Communist buildup. Pay Dang’s boys killed a lot of the Viet Minh and Pathet officers when they picked up these two specimens. Where do you want them?”
“Put them in the other plane. I’ve got a guard in it.”
“Any more orders?”
“Yeah. You get in this plane with me. You’ve done more than your job.”
“But I can’t just desert these people, Frank,” Arklin protested.
“Tell them we’ll get them evacuated by chopper and plane.”
Arklin could barely conceal his anguish at the orders. “But they need me still.”
“Bernie, there’s a regiment of Pathet around this mountain. You’ve done your job. We don’t want to lose you now. If the Commies get you they’ll do very nasty things to you, boy.”
“But my people couldn’t organize themselves for evacuation. I’ve got to help them.”
“Look—orders, chum.”
“You could change them, Frank. I want to see these people safely out of here. We owe it to them. They’ve been magnificent.”
“I promise you, we’ll get them out before their village is overrun. And that could be pretty damned soon, now.”
“Frank, we let them down once, remember. We just pulled out, took back the weapons and they were at the mercy of the Communists. If I desert them now they’ll never trust us again. And they’ll be hurt and lost. Please, Frank, try and understand. I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t personally see them safely out of here. If we’re attacked today they’ll need me.”
The CIA man regarded Arklin with a long, steady gaze. “You really are one of them, just like that old shit-kicker Williston said.”
“Yeah. I guess my career is shot. At least let me finish this job. After that—what the hell. At least I’d be able to look myself in the eye.”
“OK, Bernie,” his control said decisively. “If that’s what you want. We’ll do our best to get you out. And by the way, don’t worry about your career. After Williston blew his top about you some very influential people in the Agency decided he should be transferred to a desk down in the bowels of the Pentagon until his retirement. MAC is fighting it, of course. But don’t you worry about your career. Oh, incidentally, I brought you something. I suspected you might not want to come right home like a good boy.” He dug into the pocket of his coveralls and brought out a small cardboard box which he handed to Arklin.
“Congratulations, Colonel, your silver leaves are in there.”
Arklin looked down at the box and then gave Methuan a misty smile of thanks. “Frank, tell them I’ll be on the last trip after you’ve taken my Meos and their dependents out of here.”
The semi-conscious Chinese were dumped unceremoniously into the back of the second U-10 and it immediately took off. Methuan and Arklin shook hands.
“We can hold out for a while. The Pathet will have to send two battalions after us. They’ll have to hit us before they can move on. Should give Kong Le and the government a few more days.”
“We’ll get everyone out, Bernie.” Methuan grinned. “Williston said you were living with a naked montagnard girl. What are you going to do about her?”
Arklin’s face fell. “That’s one of the little tragedies in this kind of war. Nanette and I, we’ll just have to say good-bye. She had a lot to do with my success on this job.”
Methuan nodded and stepped into the plane. “You’ve got four or five days to say good-bye to her. See you in Vientiane—that’s where we’ll be taking you all.”
He closed the door and the engine turned over, caught, and the propeller started whirling. Arklin stepped back as the U-10 turned into the wind and took off.
Arklin watched until the roar of the plane’s engine had faded over the horizon. Then he said, “Let’s go, Pay Dang. We’ve still got a lot of fighting
ahead of us.” He grinned at his montagnard friend. “Besides, Ha Ban must be wondering where we are.”
After Arklin finished telling me his story, a recitation which seemed to ease the pain he still felt for ‘his people’ in the Laos jungle, he stared out across the roof of the Rex Hotel towards the Laotian border far to the northwest of Saigon. He took a long swallow of his drink and put the glass down.
Finally he sighed and smiled manfully, “I could go back, I suppose. I could even volunteer to help cut off the southward migration of Viet Cong and Viet Minh regulars. This is what? Middle of 1964. Someday we, ‘The USA,’ have got to understand it’s going to be a long, long war of attrition unless Mr. McNamara and those like him trying to run the war from Washington, D.C., understand what we’re up against. We’re fighting a war of deception against an enemy who can and will out-deceive us on their home territory until we go home. Then we can come back as merchants doing business with whichever faction over here out-deceives the other.”
There was another, longer, silence. Then: “This time I made sure to leave plenty of weapons and ammo for the Meo. My control didn’t even question my wild estimates of lost weapons in the jungle. The Chicom officer we captured turned out to be a valuable asset to the Agency. I left Pay Dang and his people the best trained, armed, and supplied tribesmen in the Plain of Jars.”
I refrained from asking the obvious question but finally Arklin answered it for me. “I know. What about Ha Ban?”
I nodded, perhaps too eagerly but he seemed ready to unburden himself.
“That walk out to the U-10 was the longest in my life. Pay Dang was happy with the weapons and supplies I left him. But there was nothing I could leave Ha Ban. I know she was bitterly sad that she wasn’t even pregnant when I left.” He chuckled ruefully. “I couldn’t let her know when I would leave because she would have figured some way to disable the precautions I made sure we used. But then one morning at dawn, before she was fully awake, I strode out to the airstrip, threw out a yellow smoke grenade and the plane landed. The door opened, I jumped in and we took off. I waved sadly to Ha Ban as she ran towards the air strip and then the plane was airborne.”