Tropical Terror sts-12

by Keith Douglass

“We’re checking out the last fight,” DeWitt said. “Might have nailed those last four who got away.”

  “Why would they come back?”

  “Honor, to save face. Where else can they go? Damn long swim back home.”

  Lam came on the net. “Skipper, we hear movement. We’re maybe twenty yards from the site and we hear one, maybe two men taking off through the brush.”

  “Go after them. Use the twenty whenever you get a shot. Nail the last of the bastards and let’s get off this damn mountain.”

  “We’re moving, Skip.”

  “Thanks for giving me the con,” DeWitt said.

  “Yeah, sorry. Old habits.”

  “We’re almost to the last firefight site,” DeWitt said. “Right, the airbursts and tree bursts slaughtered two of them. One is a sergeant. So we have two EM out there running.”

  Murdock and Mahanani found a spot ten feet inside the brush line behind a huge pine tree. It offered Murdock a sweeping view of about half the cleared area including the tents.

  “You hang tough here, Skip. Gave you one shot of morphine, which should keep you at least civil through your pain.”

  “Get out of here, Mahanani, and earn your pay.”

  Ahead of them a hundred yards, Canzoneri stopped behind a large tree and listened. He could hear feet crashing brush ahead of him. The woods here were green, but with plenty of dry sticks and brush to make noise. He motioned to Train close behind him, and they moved ahead as quietly as possible in the forest.

  Every twenty yards, Canzoneri stopped and listened. The third time they stopped he heard nothing ahead. He waited and checked the time on his lighted dial watch. Three minutes later the motion ahead began again. He’d outwaited the Chinese.

  Canzoneri moved quietly, listening for each step made ahead of him. He figured the enemy couldn’t be more than twenty yards in front. The woods thinned here on a rocky stretch. Canzoneri and Trail stayed behind solid trees and watched ahead.

  Canzoneri spotted one of the Chinese rushing from one tree to the next. Just like hunting season on the pond. He sighted in with the 5.56 on the spot and waited. A moment later the man moved again. Canzoneri tracked him and fired four rounds. Three of the four jolted into the running man’s back and he crunched into the rocks and brush, dead in a heartbeat.

  The other Chinese must not have moved, or if he did they never heard him. They waited, then moved ahead.

  Five minutes later Train found the first body. They took his 53 submachine gun and searched for the second man. If it had been light there was a chance they could have tracked him in the soft ground under the trees. Now it was impossible. They reported in, and DeWitt told them to return to the camp.

  * * *

  Chun knew he had been lucky up to now. He had been spared in the first barrage of instant death from the sky and escaped with his sergeant. But then the non-com had made them come back and attack the Army troops again. He had spoken out against the idea, and had been knocked down for his trouble.

  Now his last friend had died almost in front of him. If he wasn’t careful, he would be dead as well. Slowly he laid down his submachine gun, and took off his web belt and combat harness with all of his fighting gear on. He kept only the rice roll over his shoulder. It was half gone, but he could live off it for another week.

  So silently that not even an owl could hear him, Chun began to work his way away from the two soldiers hunting him. He had seen them twice. Now he would vanish.

  He had plans. When he had volunteered for this mission six months ago, they had said they wanted men who knew English or could learn. He’d said he could learn. At the last test, he had proven not quite good enough with English to be an interpreter and a spy to land ahead of the invasion.

  But he knew his English was better than many of the Chinese immigrants who had landed in this country. He knew that he could pass as an American with a Chinese background. In some town called Pearl City he had a distant cousin he had written to in English and received letters back from. All he had to do now was escape the men hunting him and make his way to Pearl City somewhere on this Hawaiian island.

  Chun rested a moment, then worked his way down the mountain. He found a ravine, slid into it, and moved faster then, sure that he was well away from the hunters. He would go as far as he could during the night, then evaluate his situation. He needed to find a house where he could steal some civilian clothes. That was first on his list.

  Next came some American money. That would be essential if he didn’t want to walk all the way to Pearl City.

  He would walk all night, making good progress. Any ravine would have a small stream where he could get water. The water would be on its path to the coast. At the coast he could find people and watch for a secluded household where he could get clothes and perhaps money as well.

  He had no idea how far it was to the beach. He had seen the maps the lieutenant had. They showed there was a wide stretch of forested land, then a stretch of grazing land about the same size that went all the way to the surf. He remembered the lieutenant saying to the sergeants that they would fight their way the ten miles to the beach if they had to. So it was only ten miles.

  Ten miles. Five years ago he had run marathons. Ten miles was nothing. He would be at the beach before daylight. What time was it? He had no watch. He could tell the time by the stars in his youth, but not now. He renewed his efforts, hit a fairly easy slope, and began a gentle run. It felt good. Yes, he would get to the beach before daylight, find a house and get clothes, and then be on his way to Pearl City. First he’d have to find out just where it was located. Would there be a bus moving along a coast highway? He would have to wait and see.

  Chun felt a wave of excitement. His cousin had told him that he should come to America. Now he had. He must make the best of it. He must reach his cousin. Chinese relatives helped each other. He would be taken in like family. Yes. All he had to do was get to the coast and find new clothes.

  * * *

  Ed Dewitt had established a small command post in dense growth with solid pine trees twenty feet off the clearing and a hundred yards from the tents. It was near the center of the cleared camp area.

  Canzoneri and Train had come back, and now he had all of his men together. Murdock sat to one side against a tree. He said he didn’t want any more medication, but Mahanani gave him another ampoule of morphine anyway. Now Murdock couldn’t even lift his arm.

  DeWitt had the men gathered around. “We stay under cover until daylight. I want each of you to set up in a defensive position so you can cover a portion of the cleared area. At dawn we’ll decide what to do. There could still be some Chinese stragglers around.

  “Ostercamp, you go back and baby-sit our prisoners. Some of them could be waking up pretty soon. Make sure they don’t make any noise or get away. Go.

  “The rest of you find your spots and settle in. No sleeping. We’ll do a net check every fifteen minutes. Right now it is zero-two-twelve. Holt, hang with the commander and me. Let’s move it.”

  Ed talked to Murdock. “One of the Chinese got away. There may be a few more hiding out waiting for dawn. We’ll wait with them. Any suggestions?”

  “You’re doing fine, JG. Hate this fucking shoulder. Is it busted all to hell?”

  “Can’t tell, Skipper. We’ll let the medics in the big Army medical center above Pearl work that out. I figure we should keep CINCPAC up to date on our progress. Holt, fire it up and get CINCPAC.”

  Holt had to move out from under the trees to get a good sighting on the satellite, then motioned to DeWitt.

  “CINCPAC, Red Hill calling.”

  “Go ahead, Red Hill.”

  “Progress report. We have taken the top of the hill where the camp is. The hostages are not in the tents. We believe they may have escaped into the brush. All opposition here has been eliminated for now. We’re holding to morning to see if we can flush out any more Chinese. Commander Murdock has a serious shoulder wound. We’ll need a chopper to fly u
s out of here early in the morning if all goes right. Could you send a Sea Knight to the Maui airport for a quick pickup?”

  “Red Hill, copy. Will relay this to the admiral and contact you. Bird on Maui seems good idea. Do you have any prisoners?”

  “Yes, CINCPAC. We have twelve Chinese with no wounds. Make that two choppers for the evac.”

  “Roger that. Who is this speaking?”

  “Lieutenant (j.g.) DeWitt, sir. Second in command.”

  “Thank you. Expect a reply within two hours.”

  When DeWitt went back under the trees to his small CP, he found Murdock sleeping. He touched his forehead. DeWitt scowled.

  “Hey, Doc, Murdock is burning up with a fever. Get up here and see what the hell is wrong with him and what you can do about it.”

  25

  Red Hill

  Maui, Hawaii

  Murdock woke up as soon as Mahanani started to check him.

  “Hey, Skipper, you’re flaking out on me? Where did this temperature come from? You have a fever?”

  “Hell, you’re the corpsman.”

  “You allergic to morphine?”

  “Never have been before.”

  The big Hawaiian/Tahitian scowled. “Might have developed it. I’ll hit you with some ibuprofen, that might do it. Just don’t put any pressure on the shoulder. I better put your arm in a sling to be sure you don’t forget and use it.”

  He rigged a sling from a big square of cloth and tied it around Murdock’s neck. “Now, just chill out the rest of the night, Skip. We’ll get some medics working on you first thing in the morning.”

  “Yeah, right. Get back to your post.” Murdock frowned. What the hell, he felt like he was sloughing off. He should at least have a spot in the perimeter. Hell, what was going on? He knew he should be doing something. Ed. Ed DeWitt had the con. Yeah. Relax. Good old Ed would do the job. Yeah, try and relax. Tired. So fucking tired. Yeah. Maybe he could grab a little nap about now. Maybe.

  When DeWitt checked Murdock ten minutes later he was sleeping. Good. He needed it. His shoulder was more than just a flesh wound. DeWitt didn’t want to think what might happen in the future with a bad shoulder wound. He couldn’t worry about that. He had the here and now.

  “Net check. Alpha Squad first.” DeWitt listened as the five remaining members of the group checked in. Then his Bravo Squad all reported in. Good. Now they waited.

  It would be a long night. DeWitt made sure there was a round in the chamber of his weapon, and settled down to scan the open places in front of him. He had done it fifty times already. He’d do it two hundred more times before daylight. Part of the job.

  By 04l6 there had been no response from CINCPAC. He stirred Ron Holt out of his nest and had him ring up the commander of the Pacific.

  “Red Hill calling CINCPAC.”

  He had to make the call three times before he had any response.

  “Yes, Red Hill. Go ahead.”

  “No response from you on request for two Sea Knights to be flown to the Maui airport for quick evac of our wounded, prisoners and hostages. Any report?”

  “Yes, Red Hill. We’ve been busy tonight. The admiral approved the birds and they should be in position at Kahului airport by now. You can check on TAC Two. They will return everyone to Hickam. Keep us posted. Have you found the governor yet?”

  “Negative on the governor. Expect to find him with daylight in about two hours.”

  “Roger that. CINCPAC out.”

  DeWitt decided to wait on trying to contact the choppers. Time enough for that when they needed them. Another hour until any kind of light at all. How did they try to find the hostages? Stand on the cliff and yell? Might be a thought. Maybe the hostages would find them. That was a better idea. He hoped that they had escaped and hadn’t been unchained, led out somewhere, and assassinated.

  He sent Holt back to his position and began another sweep of the zone in front where he could see. Nothing. Nothing again. All night he had been waiting for something to show up. Now he was just as pleased that nothing had developed. Had they taken out all of the Chinese? Shortly after daylight they should know.

  * * *

  It was still an hour until daylight when Chun found the first house. He wasn’t sure if it had something to do with the cattle range he had been crossing for the past five miles. It sat on a rise a mile from the beach. He could see the surf through the predawn twilight.

  The house had a garage and two barns. It stood at the end of a dirt road. Two old trucks were parked at one side. Neither looked as if it could run. On the far side a pole corral waited for occupants with the gate open. There were no lights on in the house.

  He checked for any kind of an outside clothesline. Nothing. The house would be a large risk. Still, he had to get out of his Chinese Army uniform. At the lower elevation it was warmer, and he had taken off his Army blouse and discarded it, shivering in his round-necked white undershirt.

  Chun lay beside a tree for ten minutes watching the house. Nothing moved. No sounds came. Evidently there was no dog, or it would have smelled and heard him by now. By nature he was not a violent man. But this was something he had to do. His very life depended on it.

  His mind made up, he sprinted across the open area to the side door of the house. He tried the knob. Unlocked. Gently he pushed the door inward. In the deeper darkness he could see little. He waited for his eyes to adjust. Gradually he made out shadows and forms. It was a food kitchen with table and chairs. No one was there. He looked around for clothes, but there were none.

  Chun heard someone coming. He ducked low against the wall. The room blazed with light as a hand turned a switch just inside a door across the room. Blinded by the light, Chun remained motionless. He opened his eyes a little at a time, then closed them. It was a man who had come into the room. He went to cupboards and took out food and turned on a gas flame under a pot of water.

  For tea, or coffee. Chun lifted up and charged the man with only his hands as weapons.

  “What the hell? Who are you?” the man blurted out. But he didn’t have time to avoid the rush of the Chinese soldier. Chun hit the rancher in the side with his shoulder, slammed him against the cupboards, then pushed him to the floor.

  “Give up and I won’t hurt you,” Chun said, his English precisely correct.

  “Who the hell are you?”

  Chun dropped hard on top of the man and pinned him to the floor. One of the rancher’s arms had fallen behind him and now he lay on it. Chun’s hands circled the man’s throat. He applied enough pressure to cut off the air to the man’s lungs. He knew how long to hold it. This had been part of his hand-to-hand — combat training. When the man’s eyes bulged and he went limp, Chun pulled his hands away. Yes, the man was about his own size. He would strip off the clothes and vanish before anyone else in the household awoke.

  An hour later, Chun walked along the Coast Highway 31 on his way to Kaupo. Signs along the way told how many units it was to the town. Since this was America, it must mean miles. As he walked, he examined the billfold that had been in the rancher’s pocket. He had been trained in American money. He counted 148 dollars and some change.

  A car came up fast behind him. He remembered about hitchhiking and pushed out his thumb. The car slashed past him and vanished around a curve. The identification in the billfold might be a handicap if anyone were looking for him. He threw away all of the cards with the man’s name on them, kept the billfold and money, and continued walking.

  A half hour later, a farm truck slowed as it came near him, and stopped when he held out his thumb. Chun ran toward the rig and peered in the window.

  “Can you take me into town?” he asked the gray-bearded man who drove the rig.

  “Sure can, boy. You must be new around here. Don’t remember seeing you before.”

  “Yes, just arrived. Taking the grand tour before I go to work in my cousin’s store.”

  “Chinese, right?” the man said.

  “Yes.”

/>   “Always have admired how you people take care of your own. I mean, you get jobs for each other, help start businesses that need opening. Damn fine job. Us haoles never quite got it together so we could do that. Where you come from?”

  He thought fast. Should he say China or San Francisco? “Yes, I come from China after long wait.”

  “Your English is good. Your cousin here on Maui?”

  “Oh, no. He is in Pearl City.”

  “Yep, been there a time or two. On Oahu up above the big Navy base there. Cost a few bucks to fly over there, but you know that since you must have flown over here. You sure travel light.”

  “Oh, left suitcase in locker at airport.”

  The rig came to a stop. They had entered a small town with a lot of people up and on the streets already. It couldn’t be a half hour after sunrise.

  “This is where I turn off. Going to see my new grandson. You have a good life there now, young man. You do that.”

  Chun stepped down from the old truck and waved. Yes, he would. He certainly would have a good life. Now, all he had to do was take a bus to the airport. He could find that easily. He was going to Oahu and to Pearl City, where he did have a cousin.

  * * *

  Murdock could not remember feeling so miserable. He blinked open his eyes. It was almost light. Not really, but not dark either. In the misty changeover before the light had completely gobbled up the shards of darkness. He moved where he lay on the ground, and a stab of white-hot pain seared through his right shoulder.

  What the hell?

  Oh, yeah. Some bastard had shot him. He blinked back the pain and looked around. He was in the fringes of the brush near some good-sized pine trees. Ten feet across the forest floor he saw DeWitt looking out at the clearing.

  “See anybody out there yet?” Murdock asked.

  DeWitt came up with a start and turned and looked at Murdock. He stood and walked over to his unit commander.

  “Hey, thought you were going into Daffy Duck land. Glad you’re back. We’re almost ready to start a sweep and see who we missed last night, if anybody.”