The firefight got intense. Muzzle blasts and explosive noises consumed the area. The smell of burnt gunpowder permeated the air. Luke heard a man scream off to the side. He couldn’t tell if it was friend or foe. He strained his eyes, searching the dark shadows for the enemy. He didn’t conserve ammo. If he thought he saw a silhouette, he fired at it. He saw Schmidt lob a grenade into the area where muzzle flashes could be seen; it silenced them. He changed magazines and switched to semi-automatic, continuing to fire until he saw no more movement. Then silence returned. He held his rifle ready as he waited for movement. There was none. Long moments passed as he watched the ghostly-white smoke from their rifles dissipated up through the trees.
Looking over at Sikes, who was now easily visible off to his left, he saw him studying the area in front of them. From where Luke stood next to a tree, he could see that his team came away without a scratch. Cautiously Sikes signaled Jarvis to move out southward, following the trail. They didn’t check out the bodies or take the dead men’s weapons; there wasn’t time. Jarvis disappeared into the darkness of the dense jungle. The rest of the team followed.
Assigned again as the single Tail-end Charlie, Luke knew he would be the last man to leave the area, guarding their escape. No sooner had the firefight ended than Luke heard Sikes say, “Let’s get the fuck out of here!”
Luka stood his ground as he watched the team disappear, generally pointing his weapon toward the slain enemy as he leaned against the tree. He waited. About three minutes passed before he too silently vanished in the jungle. Slowly he followed his team southward, always watching and listening for the approaching enemy coming from behind. After an hour, feeling confident that they weren’t being followed, he began to speed up his pace.
He ran at a steady lope, not fast just steady, knowing that the pace would unite him with the team soon enough. Dawn was breaking as he emerged from the dense, heavily wooded jungle into an area that made traveling easier; he spotted his team up ahead merging in and out of the shadows as they trotted southward.
The canopy of trees still blocked out most of the sun’s early morning light, leaving the area in a patch-work quilt pattern of dark ominous shadows and deathly gray tones. Some distance remained between him and his team, and they were moving at a fast clip. Studying the scene before him further, he noticed other movement up ahead. The blood drained from his face as he realized what it meant. A trap was closing in around his team; the Recons were moving into an ambush. He was just far enough behind that the trap closed around his friends without him in it. At that instant there was nothing he could do to warn them. It seemed like slow-motion- film-footage was being played before him as he saw the last of the NVA contingent encircle his comrades. Before the team knew it was happening, the enemy’s rifle fire destroyed the silence and drove the Recons to ground. The unique metallic sound of AK-47 rapid fire rattled unabated for several minutes as the NVA strived to erase the Recons, using surprise to their advantage.
Luke couldn’t tell if any of the team had been hit; he was too far away. He sprinted thirty yards through the near darkness to a nearby raised area off to the side, dodging silhouetted bushes and trees as he hurriedly made his way to view the action. His chest pounded as he crawled up high enough on the rise to see ahead of him. His chest was still heaving madly as he studied the panorama. What he saw made him feel sick.
Twenty or so NVA regulars had his team pinned down. It looked serious. Luke listened to the different sound of the AK-47s as the larger force sprayed the area where the Recons hid with constant rifle fire. Luke studied the location of each enemy muzzle blast as quickly as he could, trying to make sense of the calamity. It was then he realized his teammates were truly entirely surrounded. They were holed-up in a wooded gully. Trapped. Luckily, a protective twenty yards of open ground around the gully kept the enemy at arms’ length.
Luke saw his advantage: the enemy didn’t know he was there. All of their attention was focused on the Recon team in front of them. He saw the team was fairly secure, they just couldn’t move without getting cut to pieces. The open ground isolated them from the enemy, but it also kept them from retreating. If they were going to get out of there alive, it would be up to Luke. He smiled a smile that had nothing to do with humor as he remembered he had surprise on his side now. If NVA rockets or mortars arrived on the scene, Luke knew, the team wouldn’t last five minutes. Luke had to do something quick.
Seeing his friends pinned down sent rage through Luke, more rage than he had ever known. With the rage came a calm, an eerie deliberate calmness of thought focused on one thing: helping his buddies. His indecision and concern for personal safety evaporated as he realized what needed to be done.
Luke formed his plan carefully in a split second of thought that seemed like forever and moved into action. Because of the dense patches of jungle where the enemy was concealed, be knew the fighting would be in close. The longer his team was pinned down, the more dangerous the situation would become. He knew his team couldn’t be much help to him; they were confined to an area without much view. That wasn’t exactly right: if they raised their heads to where they could see, they would be cut to shreds. Luke watched repeated efforts by his buddies almost get them wasted. It was up to him.
Slowly he circled to the west, moving in the shadows deep within the canopy of trees, keeping his quarry in sight as he effortlessly moved through the dense jungle behind them. The moist ground compressed beneath his feet as he made his own trail through the over-sized fern-infested terrain. Finally, a clear view of his first target. The NVA soldier didn’t know Luke was twenty paces behind him. Concealed in the shadows, Luke braced his weapon against a tree to steady his aim. He waited only seconds until his enemy’s light machine gun fired again. Then as his victim began guiding the belted ammo into the firing weapon, Luke squeezed off a single shot; the bullet pierced the man’s back where Luke thought the heart should be. The soldier died instantly, slumping forward to the ground, the bullet having tumbled through his spine and mid- section before leaving a huge exit hole. Luke tried but could not get a clear shot at the gunner; several large ferns blocked his view. Ignoring his dead comrade, the gunner kept firing, determined to annihilate the Recon team trapped before him; he was so intent on firing the machine gun at the pinned-down Recons that Luke’s blade cutting his throat was the first hint he had that he was in trouble. Without wiping the blood from his razor sharp blade, Luke left the body lying over the silent gun and moved off to his next quarry.
With silent precision, Luke worked his way around the enemy positions, slowly silencing his friend’s would-be assassins. Each time he left the soldiers slumped over their weapons. Luke continued to move amongst the shadows as he traveled his deadly circle. The dense jungle where the NVA were concealed aided greatly in his effort. He was able to crawl within feet of some of his victims. Several of the NVA he shot from behind at nearly point-blank range during the heaviest volleys of the firefight.
Luke heard an American made frag grenade go off far to his right. He knew his team was throwing them blindly in hopes of disrupting the enemy. It struck him oddly that the NVA hadn’t thrown a grenade; then he remembered none of the corpses had grenades on them. No one seemed to notice his single shots. He made it a point to fire only during the noisy parts of the continuing firefight.
Time was moving in slow motion for him. Only a few minutes had elapsed, but to him it felt like hours. He was so focused every move was smooth and deliberate. As he finished off another enemy soldier, Luke marveled briefly at his lack of emotion. That was not exactly true; with each kill he found himself getting a strange sort of “high,” but wondered why he felt no remorse. The thoughts faded quickly as he continued his hunt. With each new stalk, he felt more invincible as he crept through the darkened jungle. For several of his stalks, he used his garrote, improving with each head he severed free.
Luckily, all the remaining NVA soldiers were spread out individually, except for the radioman and wha
t looked like an officer to Luke. He saved them until last. When Luke was sure he had silenced all but the last two, he put himself in position for a clear shot at both of them from as far a field as possible, about fifteen yards. Any further away and he might as well have been a mile, even then the jungle nearly obscured his view. First he shot the radioman, hitting him at the base of the skull. Unemotionally he watched as the man’s head abruptly skewed to the left side. In the next heartbeat, Luke squeezed off another shot and fell the officer, hitting him squarely between the shoulder blades just as he started to turn. The man collapsed, falling forward into a nearby bush. It was over. Only now could Eyes finally hear his heart again; it sounded so loud he thought it might burst.
He knelt on one knee next to a huge tree for a long moment, his eyes straining as he studied the landscape, his weapon at the ready. He listened to the silence. Nothing moved. He heard nothing.
Realizing it was over, he stood and looked around casually, no longer showing concern. He stepped out in the open as if daring the ghosts of the enemy to come forward. He felt his body pulsing. An urge was forming within him. He climbed up on a huge tree stump. A strange tingling made him stand erect. He stood very still, waiting. A dim shaft of light penetrated the dense canopy of trees overhead, exposing his head and shoulders, revealing the macabre grease paint covering his face. The lighting was accentuated by the dust particles and smoke from the firefight still floating in the air. His stare became fixed straight ahead; he braced his feet as he felt it consume him. His right arm shook his weapon high above his head in a strangely hypnotic fashion as a thunderous, savage, primeval growl escaped his twisted lips; it sounded more beast than man as it echoed throughout the small valley. The hidden Recons shivered as their subconscious minds recognized the sound; death was close at hand, waiting. The smell of fear quickly became thick and hung in the air around the concealed Recons.
The long silence that followed added resonance to the sound. At a conscious level, each of the nervous Marines was trying to figure out what had made the gruesome sound, and furthermore, why it was now quiet all of the sudden. Each man tensed as he waited. Jarvis rubbed both his arms, trying in vain to control the goose bumps forming there.
The hair on the back of Johan’ s neck bristled when he heard the animal sound. It was the same feeling he’d had when ghost stories were told to him as a kid. He was scared. He had been scared since the day he had arrived in Nam, but now he was scared shitless. It was then that he smelled it; he had shit his pants. He ignored his feces and held his weapon tightly as he listened and waited for the threat, knowing survival was at stake. If he survived, he could change his pants later.
Waldo put a fresh ammo clip in his weapon. The metallic sound echoed eerily throughout the area. Sweat glistened on his grease painted face. The muscles in his legs were taut, waiting for action. He continued to crouch near the bank of the gully, partially hidden by the roots of a large tree.
Everyone remained hidden. No one wanted to be the one to stick his head up to see what was going on. Sikes studied the situation, trying to understand the quiet. He alone had not been caught in the grip of fear by the sound, although his mind raced to ascertain its cause.
After a lengthy pause, Eyes cupped his hands to his mouth and yelled loudly, this time in a normal sounding voice, “Recon Marines are the meanest mothafuckers in the valley!” It echoed strangely throughout the forest. There was no reply. None of his teammates moved or made a sound. Hearing no reply and painfully feeling the silence, Luke thought maybe something had happened to all of them.
Eyes noisily hopped down from the stump. He started walking quickly towards their last known position with his rifle at the ready, fearful that maybe he had missed an NVA somewhere. It was then that he saw Jarvis stand up and walk toward him from the gully off to his left. Luke relaxed.
The rest of the team lay concealed. “It’s all right you guys,” Luke offered casually as he sat down on an exposed log some twenty paces in front of the gully. He took out a cigarette and lit it. They began to stand, one at a time, each still unsure if it was safe.
“What the fuck are you talking about? All right now! What happened? Where’s all the Charlie?” responded Sikes as he stood up. A look of total confusion covered his face. “We just sent Jarvis out a minute ago when we realized we weren’t drawing fire on that side any longer.”
“Oh, they’re still here,” replied Luke, feeling the high still pumping madly through his body. “They just sort of don’t care anymore.” He took a long drag on his cigarette. He leaned his head back and blew the smoke high into the air.
“What the fuck do you mean ‘don’t care?’” asked Jarvis as he approached Luke.
“They’re all dead,” said Luke as though they were discussing flies or the like.
“Come on, no kidding around, Sims,” Sikes snapped, looking irritated. “Where the fuck are they?”
“Out there,” Luke said as he waved his arm slowly in an arc. “Dead.” The word was devoid of emotion or feeling as it hung in the air. Eyes took another draw on his cigarette. His hand shook slightly.
“There must not have been as many as we thought then. How many of them are there, dead I mean?” Sikes asked in a curious command voice, now unsure what to think.
“Hell, I don’t know. They’re scattered all around the perimeter. I left them where they were so as to not cause suspicion,” Luke meekly replied, feeling rather self-conscious now.
Shouldering his weapon, Sikes walked over to Luke. It was then that he was close enough to notice the massive collection of ears now on Luke’s belt. Luke saw him looking down at them. Their eyes met. Luke could feel his own eyes soften. He could see the respect in Sikes’s gaze. Luke felt pride swelling up within him. A long silence ensued as Sikes took it all in.
Sikes then quickly dispatched the team to find out some answers. Within a minute and a half they confirmed Luke’s story. Twenty-two dead NVA regulars lay scattered around their perimeter. Twenty of them slain by Luke.
“Saddle up, we’re getting out of here,” said the surprised leader as he nodded toward Luke. “Let’s get out of here before their help arrives. Jarvis you take point. Move out.”
The men quickly moved toward the jungle, all except Sikes and Eyes. Sikes looked again at Luke’s waist and then looked him in the face. “Good job, Eyes.” Sikes slapped Luke on the shoulder. They turned without another word and headed off down the trail.
Luke felt calm as he jogged, but beneath the calm was a new confidence, a new acceptance. He felt relaxed as he ran. He moved down the trail with a cat-like grace. The way Sikes had looked at him reminded him of something he’d seen in a movie once; it seemed to apply now: “I made my bones today. Shit. I really did,” he thought. A smile crossed his face and he felt good. He didn’t feel the physical strain of the fast pace. He felt on top of the world.
They had run several miles when Jarvis came to an abrupt halt. He stopped so quickly that Luke almost ran into him. As they stood panting, Jarvis pointed to a trip cord stretched across a narrow portion of the trail at a height of six inches. The trip cord was attached to a spiked pad which was connected to a small sapling with heavy twine. Each of the six spikes was a sharply whittled piece of wood. Had the cord been tripped, the unfortunate would have caught the pad in the face or chest. It was highly likely that the tips of the spikes had been dipped in something, maybe poison or human excrement–either could prove deadly. The infection from the excrement just took longer. The patrol skirted the area and continued on.
Even though they had missed their pick-up point that morning because of the delay the ambushes caused, everyone’s mood improved with each mile south they went. Their alternate rendezvous was just a few clicks further south, and it was scheduled for the next afternoon.
At sunset, camp was made in a wooded draw that offered good concealment. Luke slept great, having had the first watch after they set up camp. At first light the team continued south. Luke felt whole
for the first time in his life; he felt totally in tune with the job of being a Recon Marine.
Late the next afternoon the team met up with their ride home, Too tired to pay attention, the team lay exhausted on the floor of the chopper until sleep claimed them all. It was seventeen hundred hours when the chopper set down at LZ Barker, returning them to their camp near Phu Bai.
Hot food, the evening meal, was still being served so Luke and his team headed immediately to the Chow Hall, Sgt. Sikes had a scowl on his face as he turned to leave. He had to go to a debriefing with Lt. Macky at the CP. Johan volunteered to help. “Hey, Sarge. I’ll grab whatever I can and bring it back to the hooch for you.”
“Thanks. I’ll see ya in a bit.”
As Luke waited in line he realized his team must smell like something awful because everyone else in the building avoided them. He ignored their looks and got his chow and quickly ate with his buddies. They ate without a word being said, too exhausted to talk.
From the chow hall, Luke made his way to their hooch, planning on getting clean clothes to put on after his shower. Something prompted him to rest briefly on his cot. Deep sleep consumed him immediately.
When he awoke it was light outside. He saw that his buddies were all still sleeping. Checking his watch, he saw it was 0630. Luke got clean shorts and his shaving kit and headed to the shower. The shower and the clean feeling it left added to his good mood. He whistled as he walked across the compound. He hadn’t whistled in years.
Walking through the chow line in his clean clothes, he noticed stares from many of the people he saw. He couldn’t figure out why. He passed it oft that he must have combed his hair dumb, or maybe cut himself shaving and the blood was showing. He felt his face for the expected blood and found none.
By What is Sure to Follow Page 21