by Dennis Foley
Hollister made one last transmission. “Raider Three-Six. This is Killer Six. We are moving. Have you notified Campus Killer base of our problem?”
“Roger your move. And affirm on the relay. We’re all starting to run a little short on fuel. What’s your pleasure?”
“Get some replacements for your gun team to fly cover in case we get into more shooting. Take your team and the slicks back, refuel, and stand by. I’ll call for the slicks in enough time for you to get out here to pick us up.”
“Anything else?”
“Keep something up over us. I need someone to relay commo back to Tango November. I can’t rely on the other friendlies’ commo,” Hollister said, not caring if Depplemeier heard his declaration of no confidence.
“Got it. Keep your head down, Jim,” Joe Raymond said.
“No problem there.”
Darkness closed in before Hollister’s small group had moved twenty meters. The going was very slow, and Hollister worried the unskilled in the file were making too much noise. Twice he had to stop and work his way back. First to Moody, who was breaking the small branches instead of sidestepping them. The second time to tell the crew chief he could hear his belted ammunition clanking against the metal on the machine gun as he walked.
The delays to correct the problems were added to the delays for caution on the move. This in spite of the fact that Pek was skilled at moving at night—quietly, without wasted motion.
Hollister watched him pick his way through the brush, taking care to know where he was stepping and what was around him. He tried to copy each move Pek made. He also tried to keep track of Jrae.
The fact that she was a woman and unaccustomed to moving tactically in a hostile environment was overcome by her familiarity with forested terrain. He regretted having to put Tennant and the crew chief in the tail of the file—but he had no choice. He needed the firepower back there and didn’t want the only other captain too close to him. Should he get killed or wounded, he wanted Tennant to make the decisions and pick up control. He may have been a little rusty on the ground, but he was a sharp thinker and a cool head. With Hollister’s radio, he could get things done no one else in their small group could.
After another hundred meters of moving, Hollister held up the small group. He felt something was wrong and wanted to pull off their line of march and sit. He turned their direction ninety degrees and set up a small perimeter. He took Pek back to where they changed their direction and made an effort to trample some vegetation to make it appear as if they had turned into a nearby clearing. On the way back to the perimeter, he and Pek stood the vegetation they had disturbed back up.
They then sat and waited.
After only ten minutes, Hollister and the others heard someone approaching—using the same route they had taken. He was right. They were being followed.
Sixteen North Vietnamese soldiers—uniformed and well armed—moved down the trail made by the passing Americans.
Hollister reached over and put his hand on the top of the crew chief’s machine gun—to make sure he knew to hold his fire.
They all watched as the enemy soldiers stopped near the point Hollister had changed their direction and then moved on—toward the clearing that Hollister had hoped to lead them to.
In five minutes they were out of sight. Hollister was the first to move. He looked around at the others to see if the close call had made an impression on them. All appeared to be very motivated by the nearness of the enemy patrol and the danger they were in.
He was sure they would move more quietly and do damage to less vegetation on the move once they continued their route to the landing zone.
Hollister cupped the mouthpiece of his handset with his hands. “Five-Six. This is Killer Six. Be advised, there is a one-six man November Victor Alpha patrol moving in your direction from your east.”
Depplemeier came back immediately. “Roger, enemy patrol.”
They continued to move through the thick brush, only occasionally able to see where they were from the in-and-out moonlight between the clouds.
After several more minutes of movement, the cloud cover thickened, and it began to rain again. The circling gunships were forced to gain altitude to get above the clouds. Then they were forced to fly back to Tay Ninh. The worsening weather left Hollister with only the few weapons they had to defend themselves.
Artillery would be out of the question because he couldn’t be sure where the ARVNs were. Air strikes wouldn’t be possible for that reason and because of the lack of visibility.
Their situation had seriously worsened.
Hollister kept them moving toward the landing zone. Their pace had slowed because of the visibility and the unknown location of the passing enemy patrol.
As they got close to the LZ, they heard some noise. Hollister stopped and called Depplemeier. “I’ve got some movement at what I guess to be five hundred meters southeast of your position. Are those your folks?”
“Negative. Negative,” Depplemeier said. “I don’t have anyone in that area.”
“Are you sure?” Hollister asked. “I don’t want to fire only to find out there’s a misunderstanding.”
“I just finished counting noses. All accounted for, and no one in the area you described,” Depplemeier said.
“Okay. If you hear any shooting, you’ll know what it’s about.”
The darkness became so complete it was impossible to see anything more than an arm’s length away. And the enemy soldiers seemed to become bolder. The noises became muffled voices. The pattern indicated to Hollister that they had spread out and were searching the area. He could hear the sounds of equipment clanking and brush being crushed underfoot.
It became clear to Hollister that he had enemy soldiers behind him and in front of him. Beyond the ones to his front were the ARVNs. He was less sure about their location than the enemy’s.
Hollister looked back where they had just come from. He knew he had to get his small group away from the searching enemy soldiers. That meant cutting across a small clearing.
He reached forward and grabbed Pek by the shoulder. The others stopped and waited for his instructions. Hollister motioned to Tennant, Moody, and the crew chief to stay put while he gathered Pek and Jrae around him.
“We have to change direction, across that clearing. We will go first. Then we will wait while the others cross. Okay?”
Jrae translated to Pek, and they both nodded.
Hollister worked his way back and explained the same thing to the pilots and the crew chief. He positioned each of them where they could cover Hollister’s, Jrae’s, and Pek’s movement across the clearing.
Hollister pulled the red-filtered flashlight off his web gear and cupped the lens with his hand. He turned it on and off quickly. The light barely illuminated a margin of skin around the lens. “Okay. When we’re in position, I’ll give you two very quick shots of light. You move carefully. I’ll try to cover your move.”
The three started toward the clearing. With Hollister in the lead, Jrae and Pek moved quietly behind him.
Hollister knew if the enemy didn’t see them, they surely wouldn’t hear them. He had never moved in the bush with anyone who could be as quiet as the two Montagnards. He was encouraged by their skills, overcoming some of the shortcomings of having two unarmed people in tow.
Halfway across the clearing, Jrae stopped Hollister and turned him around. There, west of them, the noises and searching enemy soldiers had grown even more aggressive. They could see the flickering of several flashlights through the thick vegetation. The talking grew louder, and there was even some shouting.
To Hollister that meant they either knew they had the Americans and the ARVNs outnumbered or they didn’t know the ARVNs were nearby. Either way, it wasn’t a good sign. And he’d have to assume there were more enemy soldiers searching for them than they had seen pass by earlier.
Hollister grabbed Jrae’s wrist and hurried her across the small clearing. Trading safety
for speed, he took the chance they wouldn’t hit any mines or booby traps getting to the far side before they were seen.
Once inside the far tree line, Hollister stopped, grabbed the others, and pulled them to the concealment of a large hedgerow. They watched the enemy flashlights move closer and tried to control their breathing to keep from being heard.
Some of the enemy soldiers used their rifles to search. They fired random shots into the trees in hopes of flushing out the intruders.
Three or four of the approaching soldiers sprayed long bursts of automatic rifle fire across the clearing. Again, their aim was probing fire—not aimed fire.
Hollister still decided not to return fire and hoped Tennant and the others were smart enough to do the same on the other side of the clearing.
No one needed to speak to understand things had turned much worse. The enemy flashlights broke out into the clearing and began to work their way across it—separating Hollister, Jrae, and Pek from the downed chopper crew.
Hollister knew the reality of their situation. They had no choice. They had to move away from the edge of the clearing without the pilots or risk being discovered by the searching enemy soldiers.
He turned to Jrae and pulled her ear to his face. He whispered, “We need someplace to hide. We can’t keep moving. Ask your brother where we can go.”
Jrae passed the question on to Pek, who immediately pointed in the direction of a stream.
Before they left, Hollister could see the spot where Tennant, Moody, and the crew chief had been waiting being searched by the soldiers. He had to assume that they too had moved to avoid being discovered.
Pek stopped them a dozen steps short of a stream bank. The move had taken them another hour—picking their way through the brush, stopping frequently to listen. After the first half hour, they could no longer see or hear the enemy soldiers searching the clearing.
The problem facing them was to find a place to hole up until first light. Only then could Hollister hope to get the choppers and air cover in to help them get out of their fix.
Pek motioned to Jrae and Hollister to stay put. He walked toward the stream and out of sight of the other two.
After several minutes, he came back and waved for them to follow him.
Less than fifty meters upstream the terrain and vegetation overhung the stream. Pek sat on the bank and slid quietly into the rushing water. Hollister and Jrae did the same.
They waded, armpit deep, along the bank and up under the overhang. There, Pek pointed them to a hard-to-make-out pocket in the bank. It had been undercut by the flow of the stream.
Hollister waited for his eyes to adjust a little more to the even darker world and then pulled his flashlight off his harness. Allowing only a sliver of light, he looked around the pocket in the earthen bank. It was less than three feet high, but was long enough for all three of them to get up on the ledge above the waterline.
Pek and Hollister climbed out of the stream, onto the ledge, and then reached back to help Jrae up. They had not even stopped dripping water from their clothes when they heard the sounds of automatic weapons fire. First AK-47s and then M-16s. The bursts seemed to alternate twice, then went silent only to be followed by one more combined burst of fire and what sounded like two hand grenades.
There was no way to tell the direction of the shooting from their burrow. Hollister knew it didn’t involve Tennant’s party since they carried no M-16s.
Hollister, Jrae, and Pek sat quietly for almost an hour before speaking or moving about. Finally, satisfied they hadn’t been followed, Hollister set up his radio and tried to extend the whip antenna toward the opening.
“Campus Killer Control, this is Killer Six. Over.”
He waited for a reply and heard what sounded like a squelch break. But he was not able to recognize anything. He tried again. Still no answer, just the sound of an attempt.
Hollister gave up on the launch site and tried to call Depplemeier. He got no answer there, either. After two tries, he decided to save the battery and wait until something was flying overhead to make another attempt.
Outside the hole, the sky must have cleared somewhat because the water reflected a bit more light back up onto the ledge. He could see the outlines of Jrae and Pek. He checked his watch and saw it was nearly two A.M.
He tried to decide what to do with the time until first light. He considered getting some sleep but felt too responsible for the Montagnards’ safety.
Instead, he checked and rechecked his weapon to make sure it was still in working order, and did the same with his ammo. He thanked the NCOs along the way who had made him assemble and disassemble weapons blindfolded. They had promised him if he needed to do it in combat he would be glad he mastered the skill.
He pulled his claymore bag around and slipped his hand in to inventory the contents. He was sure he had a signal mirror inside, but hadn’t seen it in days. His fingers found the smoothed-off edges of the machined glass mirror and worked to the string attached to the hole in the end of the mirror.
Pulling it out of the bag, he slipped the cord around his neck and tucked the small mirror into his shirt. It would be as vital to them in the morning as the radio. He could call the choppers, but he needed some way to signal their location. With no smoke grenades, he had to put his faith in the signal mirror. The last thing he wanted to do was get separated from the claymore bag with the mirror in it. Around his neck was a better place.
Another hour went by. Hollister checked his watch and tried to dismiss his impatience. Jrae shifted her position on the ledge and her leg brushed up against Hollister’s hip. She was shivering from the wet, cold, and dampness of the wet earth.
Hollister reached over and slipped his arm around her. Without waking, Jrae rolled over into Hollister’s arms. He pulled her closer, her head resting on his chest, her knees curled up against his thighs.
It had been so long since Hollister had even touched a woman. Her hair smelled of the fresh vegetation they had traveled through.
He soon found himself rubbing her back. He wished he had something to cover her with to take the chill away. He moved her so the small of her back was off the ground and against his hip. The added warmth would help her fight the cold. Soon, her shivering diminished, and he could feel the warmth of her body.
After a few minutes Jrae reached out and took Hollister’s hand. She pulled it to the hollow of her neck and held it there.
He wondered if she was even conscious she had done it. He suspected not.
Hollister listened to her breathe and continued to gently stroke her back and her hair. He was surprised at how comfortable he felt with a woman from another culture and almost another era of time. The mountain woman had only taken on some of the trappings of modern women. He had realized how much of her primitive skills and instincts still lived within her as he watched her move through the bush that day.
Just before dawn, Hollister woke Jrae and Pek. Pek slipped off the ledge into the water. He swam to a point under the overhang where he could stay concealed by the vegetation but still see out. After several minutes, he came back to Hollister and shook his head—telling Hollister that he saw nothing alarming.
Hollister knew it only meant there was no one moving in the small slice of the outside world Pek could see. It was not a guarantee of safety for the trio.
Jrae looked at Hollister.
He pointed up. “We wait until we hear something flying, and then we will try to contact them by radio. After that, we’ll work out a way to get out of here.”
The heat of the day quickly turned the hollow in the stream bank into a steamy, fly-infested cavern, making the wait even more uncomfortable than the night had been.
Hollister checked his watch and looked out at the water. The dullness of the surface told him the cloud cover still hung over them. He had to assume the absence of chopper noises was due to the weather.
Another hour went by, and the water began to sparkle with the reflections of the sun.
No one needed to speak to know it was a good sign.
Hollister heard the radio handset before he heard the sounds of chopper blades.
“This is Six. Go,” Hollister said.
Michaelson’s voice was clear and strong over the radio. “What’s your situation?”
Hollister shorthanded the problems of being separated from the pilots and unable to work their way back to either the pilots or the ARVNs and Depplemeier.
Michaelson asked if he had a pickup zone nearby.
“We haven’t seen what this place looks like in the daylight. How far out are you?”
“At least ten minutes away from where you might be. My guess it’s the same stream we are familiar with. I’m going to turn north and hold in a high orbit until you know more and want us to come in,” Michaelson said.
“Roger that. If I lose commo, look for a shiny. It will be me or the two folks with me if something happens to me. I don’t have much confidence in my battery.”
“Got it. Be careful,” Michaelson said.
Hollister didn’t need to explain what was happening to Jrae or Pek. He simply motioned for them to stay put. He pulled the mirror from his shirt and placed it on the ledge. He took the side of the radio handset and placed it under the centerline of the mirror and pressed down on it. The mirror cracked into two usable pieces. He handed one to Jrae.
“If you have to signal Colonel Michaelson, use this. He will know it’s you.”
Hollister rubbed his hands along the wall side of the earthen bank and picked up some of the slippery mosses and mud. He used the remaining piece of mirror to break up the skin tone and features of his face, turning highlights into darker spots. It wasn’t his best camouflage job, but it would help. He wiped the rest of the mud over the backs of his hands and on his neck.
“I won’t be long,” he said. Then, after checking the radio and his weapon, he slipped off the ledge and into the cool water. He held his weapon high and bent over to get out from under the overhang.
Reaching the grasses and brush that trailed in the stream, Hollister stopped and peered out across the water. From his limited vantage point, he could see an otherwise calm and untroubled stream wandering through a peaceful meadow that might have been someone’s farm had there not been one war or another near there for over a hundred years.