By What is Sure to Follow

by Donald Burton

  Other than having taken a copy of their travel orders and telling them to go sit in the shade, no one had told them anything. Nothing they saw explained why they were here in the middle of nowhere. Not a plane or chopper in sight, no vehicles were around. “So what gives?” Luke asked himself.

  A perimeter guard was set up, he saw. A hundred yards to the south several mounds of dirt had sand bags piled strategically around them; a .50-caliber machine gun was centered in each. At the northern end of the runway more bunkers were dug into the sandy soil. Also at the north end, on the east side, was a guard tower. Luke nodded as he guessed about there being friendly mine fields in the exposed areas to the west and other deterrents where needed. “After all,” Luke conceded to himself, “an air strip this close to the demilitarized zone separating South Vietnam from the north is pretty valuable real estate.” Luke wouldn’t have known this last fact except that he heard the old Recons talking about it. The airfield hadn’t been here long, they had told him. The Sea Bees cleared the jungle and laid the metal plates, converting it from a large helo pad complex just a couple of months back.

  For some reason the green recruits were being kept to themselves. This bothered Luke. He wanted to check in with his unit and get on with the war, not be treated like an outsider. He slapped at a mosquito poised on his left arm. He missed. With his next attempt, the enlarged mosquito splattered on his uniform, leaving a bloody smear, a sure sign that he’d been feeding on Luke’s blood.

  It was hot and sticky and getting worse as the day wore on. A swarm of small, biting flies were busy making a nuisance of themselves, hovering just out of reach, waiting to feed. Luke’s body odor was getting worse; it was already beginning to bother him. He needed a shower. This was not what he had imagined it would be like.

  Luke saw Waldo wasn’t doing any better. “I don’t know about you, Waldo, but I feel scared. I mean nothing over here makes any sense.”

  “You’re telling me, bro. I thought Chicago prepared me for this. This ain’t even close,” said Waldo nervously. “Chicago was like kindergarten compared to this shit. I mean this is bad shit. At least at night when you go to bed back home, you feel safe, even if you have to put three locks on the door. I still can’t believe last night. What bothers me most, bro, is that everyone is taking this shit so calmly– like its normal. And we just got here. It’s not like last night was something special. You know what I mean, bro?”

  “Yeah. I hear you. I feel the same way. I didn’t tell you guys, but the other night when I went and saw that guy I know from back home, you know, the tow truck driver for the Sea Bees. Well, he ran over a civilian and laughed about it. The guys he works with actually have a bet going as to who will run over the most Vietnamese. Can you believe it? Whoever gets the most...wins. The other guys pay to get him laid and drunk. I couldn’t believe it. I still can’t. It seems like a bad dream, but I was there. I heard the woman scream and felt the truck run over her and her bike.”

  “Are you sure he did?” asked Waldo as he stared hard at Luke.

  “Yeah. I’m sure. I saw her briefly in the headlights the moment it happened. The Sea Bee laughed, actually laughed about it. I couldn’t believe it. I mean he acted the same as I’d do if I killed a fly or one of these damn mosquitoes.”

  “Maybe we’ll feel like that soon,” replied Waldo. Concern consumed his face.

  “That’s what bothers me. This isn’t what I expected. Now that I think about it, I don’t know what I expected. All I know is that I’m scared shitless that I might die over here or be the cause of one of you guys dying.”

  Waldo’s eyes said he understood. “Anyway there’s nothing we can do now. I’d just like to get to our unit and find out what’s goin’ on.”

  “You and me both,” said Luke as he leaned back on his pack. “You and me both.”

  With that, Waldo rearranged his rucksack slightly, leaned back upon it, closed his eyes and within a few minutes was sound asleep. Not long afterwards, exhaustion took its toll and Luke too slept.

  Several hours of silence was broken with the low hum of an airplane approaching from the south. All three men woke with a start. Luke rubbed his eyes and squinted as he studied the horizon; finally he saw the plane lumbering along just over the treetops.

  “There it is, you guys,” Luke said as he pointed to its location. Both Johan and Waldo looked skyward.

  “Yeah, bro. I see it now,” answered a tired sounding Waldo. “That’s like the bird that brought us to Nam:”

  “You’re right,” offered Johan, finally seeing the growing dot coming towards them.

  It was another C-130. The trio watched as the plane cautiously made its landing. With the engines still revved, the rear cargo door opened and several pallets of supplies belched forth in quick fashion as the plane inched forward toward their location. The plane came to a complete stop twenty yards from the tin buildings, directly in front of Luke’s position; it kept its engines idling richly as a precaution in case it needed emergency power.

  Emerging from the darkness, a Marine officer materialized as he walked down the rear ramp into the bright sunlight. Closely on his heels came a bunch of filthy looking Marines. No sooner were the men unloaded than the engine noise picked up briskly and the huge plane began taxiing for take-off.

  Without delay, as the aircraft reached the end of the runway, the huge, camouflage-colored plane began to take-off. It lumbered down the uneven plates that comprised the make-shift runway. Hypnotized by the scene, Luke watched as the plane picked up speed. The uneven ground, Luke thought dryly, caused its wings to almost flap like a huge bird’s wings. No sooner had the thought entered his mind than he heard a loud blast. It came from off to the side. Luke started to turn his head toward the noise. At that instant he saw the huge cargo plane burst into a ball of red flames in front of him. Secondary explosions began seconds later. He watched helplessly. Black smoke billowed skyward from the carnal wreckage, now a molten mass deposited two-thirds the way down the runway. Before anything could be done, the plane was nothing but charred remains. One moment it was a serene, quite airfield, and the next it was the center focal point of the war. Luke began to tremble, watching in disbelief. Tears ran down his face. The war was once again real.

  From out of the chaos Luke heard orders being barked. He was dazed and didn’t know to whom they were directed. The impact of a boot on his shoulder brought him back to his senses. He jumped to his feet and faced the gunnery sergeant who had yelled the orders. The sergeant repeated, “Get your asses out there and join in the perimeter sweep and get that bastard.”

  “Yes, sir,” Luke instantly replied. And with that Luke and his two buddies dropped their packs, slammed full magazines into their rifles, chambered a round, and headed at a run across the open area to the northeast to join the hunt. Luke flipped his weapon to automatic. The plastic stock of his weapon no longer felt like a toy, even if it did say the word Mattel under the butt plate. His moist hands grasped the rifle tightly as he ran. He was scared senseless. Slowly his mind cleared as he ran and he was able to focus on the activity around him.

  Not knowing where they had all come from, Luke saw at least forty Marines involved in the sweep. With the arrival of the plane, he would have guessed fifteen perhaps twenty Americans were in the area. With the exception of Luke and his buddies, Luke noticed that all the other Marines looked war hardened–salty and ready for action.

  Thirty minutes of checking the area produced no sign of the intruder. Luke was sure there was no place for the VC to hide that had not been checked. The Marines quietly kept crossing and re- crossing the area of sandy soil, inspecting each of the dry sagebrush clumps found there.

  “Not easy terrain to hide in,” Luke said as he shuffled his feet through the loose sand. A small cloud of dust rose at his feet.

  Waldo, off to his right two yards, said, “You got that right, bro. Not even an alley cat could hide long out here.”

  Up ahead, Luke saw three Marines using
hand signs instead of talking. As he grew near he couldn’t figure out the commotion. One of the salty fellahs, now next to Luke, reached over and put his hand over Luke’s mouth as he started to speak, and motioned him silent. The Recon then pointed up ahead. Luke followed his gaze. The trio of cherries stood silent, watching the salty Recons’ movements.

  Luke noticed a number of the Recon wore bush hats like his, and others were wearing camouflage berets. All wore camouflage smeared grease-paint on their face, and for the most part, were a pretty filthy looking group. Luke wrinkled his nose as he neared them; the smell was like they had been rolling in a garbage pit of aged, raw sewage.

  One of the Marines quickly stripped to the waist as Luke and his friends watched. Without a word, he lifted a camouflage trap door a few yards in front of Luke and slid out of sight down the hole. The door fell shut behind him, raising a small plume of dust. Luke hadn’t seen the door until the Recon opened it. Everyone sat down casually and waited, some lit cigarettes, some sat staring at the trap door.

  When the Recon disappeared, Luke saw he had a survival knife in one hand and a 45 automatic stuffed down the front of his pants. Several M-16s were nonchalantly aimed in the direction of the hole, although no one seemed too concerned about being so close to an enemy fortress.

  Luke asked, speaking just above a whisper, “What’s down there anyway?”

  One of the veterans looked at Luke with a blank expression and then after a long moment said, “Could be anything down there.” Then after another lengthy pause, he added, “Some of those caves go on forever. In most cases, they just go down to a couple rooms where Charlie can hold-up for weeks. We’ve found some burrows that lead to towns underground. In those cases it takes weeks before we exterminate all those fuckin’ animals. In one of them we sent dogs down. Boy did they do a job!” Then the Marine fell silent. It was as if Luke no longer existed.

  After a short period of nervous silence for Luke, another Marine spoke. “This hole is probably a small one. Its location isn’t good enough to call for anything special.” Then he too fell silent.

  Someone then asked, “Did the mail arrive?”

  It was Waldo who answered. “Yeah. It made it okay.” Several men grunted their approval before the silence returned. Luke found a small stick and absentmindedly drew circles in the dirt, too nervous to sit still.

  No more than fifteen minutes passed before the trap door flew open, dust flying everywhere. Luke jerked, as though he had been given a thousand volt shock. Several alert Marines tensed momentarily, aiming their weapons toward the hole. The smiling face of the Recon re-appeared and then the men relaxed. Until then no sound had come from the hole as far as Luke could tell.

  The Marine’s grin, showing several missing teeth, seemed to excite everyone. As he emerged from the hole, it became obvious he found what he went after; in his left hand were two human heads, which he dangled by their long black hair. With cheers and congratulations from his teammates, the Marine quickly cut off the right ears, placed them on his belt, and then tossed the heads back down in the hole.

  The sight turned Luke’s stomach. He turned and began retching. As he began to barf, Luke thought about how dumb he must look to the other men. Regaining control once he was finished vomiting, he felt embarrassed. He didn’t like looking like a wimp. Everyone seemed to ignore him. Without comment, a Marine took a fragmentation grenade off his harness, pulled the pin, and tossed it into the dark hole. Someone reached over and flipped the door shut with the barrel of his M-d6 and. everyone took a fast dozen steps away from the hole before the grenade exploded.

  Without looking behind them again, the mass of dirty Marines walked across the airfield compound in a casual fashion as though they were walking across a football field after a game; everyone talked about the letters they were expecting from girls back home and carried on as though nothing had happened. Luke and his buddies, paled by the incident, followed silently. A terrible shiver ran down Luke’s back as he noticed that many of the Marines ahead of him had ears on their belts.

  After a quick mail call, a lean black Marine lieutenant ambled over to Luke’s small group and introduced himself. He was the officer Luke had seen exit the aircraft. “Hi. I’m Lieutenant McMinneville–Lt. Macky for short,” he said as he shook each of their hands. “I’m CO of 1st Force Reconnaissance Company, your unit. You’ re our new replacements.”

  Luke wondered who he was replacing, but didn’t ask. Instead he offered a weak smile.

  “Where you fellahs from?” Lieutenant Macky’s tone was friendly. None of their replies seemed to excite him. “Well I’m from South Philadelphia.” To Luke it sounded like a declaration rather than a simple statement. Luke decided to let it drop rather than delve deeper.

  Listening to the lieutenant talk as they walked, the trio learned some interesting facts. “There is more to Phu Bai than just the shacks you’ve seen so far. South of the airfield the army is building a good size city, encompassing an area big enough to house five or six thousand Americans soldiers when completed. You won’t be visiting that Phu Bai nor the civilian village nearby. Our unit is “dug-in” not far from the airfield, at Firebase Barker. We’ll be going there shortly,” offered the lieutenant as they followed the trail of Marines across the field.

  “Some of the Recons involved in the sweep you fellahs just witnessed are part of our unit,” Macky said proudly as they joined a group of men on the east side of the field.

  One of the veterans off to the side called the lieutenant’s name. Macky waved at the man. “Excuse me, men. Gotta go.” With that Macky strode confidently forward to talk with the salty looking Marine.

  Luke and his friends stood still, waiting to see what was next. Everyone seemed to be milling about, waiting for orders.

  “Listen up,” Macky spoke loudly a couple of minutes later, addressing the whole group. “Let’s be heading back to the compound. We’ll have the rest of mail call–the packages–when we get back. You new guys get your gear and follow along.”

  Luke and his buddies grabbed their rucksacks and followed the Lieutenant and his men further east across the bush. Luke held his weapon at the ready, his muscles taut, ready for another intruder. His jaw hurt from clenching his teeth together, but he didn’t notice the pain. He studied every bush and mound in sight. The salty Recons, on the other hand, all walked relaxed, with weapons slung casually over their shoulders or pointed at the ground. They talked all the way, and ignored their surroundings.

  Eight hundred yards later, the group arrived at the perimeter of a compound. “This must be it,” said Johan as they entered the protected area. Rolls of barbed wire and concertina wire encircled the firebase. They entered through a section of wire that served as a gate. At night it would be pulled shut, Luke decided, as he looked closer.

  The group walked past a crudely made sign near the gate: Firebase Barker.

  Once inside the compound, the lieutenant stopped. The new men stopped with him. Luke saw deep trenches cut in the red earth, leading to several partially buried structures. Looking closer, he saw walls of sand bags topped with plywood roofs, which themselves were covered with sand bags. Beneath the plywood, Luke guessed, living quarters existed. Off to the side were numerous pallets of supplies: boxes piled eight feet high and a large number of fifty-five-gallon drums stacked next to them. An olive green military tent commanded a low central position in the compound; sand bags, stacked three abreast, comprised the five feet high wall that protected it further. Thirty meters to the north, still inside the compound, a cleared area served as a helo pad. Behind it was a small storage area crammed with more supply pallets, most of them empty, and a number of fifty-five gallon drums, stacked two high.

  From where Luke stood he could see the entire compound; it was encircled by several barriers of barbed wire and concertina wire–even coming from the direction of the airfield. Firebase Barker was a fortress unto itself.

  Macky turned and faced the new men. “Men, I want to int
roduce you to your Platoon Sergeant, Gunnery Sergeant Jim Knots.” After a brief pause, he continued, “Gunny this is Washington, Sims and Schmidt, our new replacements. See to it they get squared away.”

  “Yes, sir,” replied Knots, not bothering to salute his superior. “All right men, you heard him. Grab your gear and follow me.” Standing down wind from Knots, Luke realized that Knots smelled to high heaven too. No one else seemed to notice. It took all of Luke’s concentration to ignore the smell and listen to what Knots said as they walked.

  “All three of y’all be bunking over here,” Knots said casually in his strong Southern accent, pointing to the first structure Luke had seen. “Go stow your gear and get settled in. Listen up for chow call in a bit. I’ll check with you later and fill you in on your duties.” The trio nodded and stood watching Knots depart.

  A Marine nearby saw their expression and walked over to them. “Knots is a good man to listen to, tough too. He survived a couple of major ops most didn’t walk away from. Pay attention to him, boots, and you might make it back to the world. The Major put him up for a Silver Star for leading what was left of his Platoon to safety– straight through enemy lines.” Luke sensed that Knots had given commands with the confidence only experience could instill. This proved him right.

  Knots was in his fifth year in the Corps, they heard, having made his decision to make the Corps his career, and he was half way through his second tour in Vietnam.

  Without realizing he was doing it, Luke’s shoulders slumped as he looked toward his hooch. Nothing but dirt was visible, filthy red dirt. His head began to spin. A minor headache he’d developed earlier now felt like it wanted to take his head off. He wanted to scream, but he didn’t know what to scream. Confusion crowded out all other thoughts. This wasn’t what he had imagined it would be like. He looked around again. Then as he spoke, his contempt became evident. “This is our new fuckin’ home, fellahs.”