A dark object approached, and he heard a muffled voice. A man’s face broke through the curtain of rain only inches from his nose. “Follow me.”
Jason stayed on the soldier’s heels, barely able to make out his form as he tried to keep up. Finally, he saw the tent and ran the last five meters.
Captain Elliott rose from a folding chair sunk in six inches of mud and half-yelled over the sound of the beating rain. “I saw you coming just before it hit. I took an azimuth with my compass and sent out the RTO to fetch you. Monsoon rains are something, aren’t they?”
Jason took off his helmet and shouted back, “How long does it last?”
“Sometimes days,” Elliott said. He looked out the tent flap as if in a trance.
They had to wait fifteen minutes before the rain let up enough for the other platoon leaders to find the CP. When they were assembled, Elliott spread a map over his lap and began his briefing. “The Second Battalion got lucky. We’re not going to be moving very far. Tomorrow we’ll be choppered into the hills due south of us to look for mortar and rocket positions the gooks have been using to shoot at the airfield. We’re only going out six to eight klicks and landing on a small hilltop. From there we hump up into the higher mountains. We’ll be leaving at zero nine hundred tomorrow morning, if this damn weather clears up. Any questions?”
Jason raised a wrinkled finger. “Sir, if NVA are in the mountains, isn’t it kinda dangerous moving in company size?”
“It’s not a problem. The intelligence people haven’t confirmed anything that looks big. Mostly small stuff. The Mohawk snooper missions have picked up a little bit of activity on the hilltops and ridges, and they just want us to see what’s up there. If we hit something, we’ll pull back and call in arty and air support. I think this is going to be pretty much like the Ia Drang operation. The NVA know better than to tangle with us. They’ll pull back to their sanctuaries in Cambodia and Laos.”
He folded the map. “That’s it. You guys get back to your platoons, and I’ll see you here tomorrow at zero seven hundred to discuss details.”
General Binh Ty Duc studied the wall map for several minutes and turned to Colonel Huu. “Can the Americans be so confident as to send only two battalions to find us?”
Colonel Huu set the rice paper on the bamboo table. “The radio reports come from three different scout elements of the Sixty-sixth Regiment. They all reported the same thing. Only two infantry battalions plus artillery have arrived at Dak To.”
The general lowered his head, thinking aloud. “Their intelligence planes have spotted our preparation as we knew they would, yet they only sent two battalions. The Americans must believe us to have only small units and not be a threat.”
Colonel Huu did not understand the general’s concern. “What is wrong with that, my general? If they sent more units they would find our defensive positions. Should we not be rejoicing?”
Duc stared out the thatch hut door at the drizzling rain. “General Giap’s master plan is based on the Americans’ believing we are capable of overrunning Dak To. He also believes, as I do, that the Americans would react by sending many of their units to search for us.”
He broke his gaze from the rain and turned it to his operations officer. “Don’t you see? Today is a rehearsal for what is to come. I have ordered my commanders not to fight, but to pull back. The Americans will find no units to destroy, and they will leave. In October, when we occupy the defensive positions to execute the master plan, the Americans will send only a small unit, as they did this time, believing we will pull back. General Giap and I have overestimated the intelligence capabilities of the Americans. They will not react as we had planned, and the diversion will fail.”
Colonel Huu nodded. “I understand. We must make them believe we are a major threat, but what can we do?”
Duc turned around and looked at the map. “We must teach the arrogant Americans a lesson they will not forget … a lesson in respect.”
Caddy tore open the envelope and smiled. “Sweet Cynthia came through. Guys, we now have a new collection of drive-on pictures.”
Silk leaned over Caddy’s shoulder and whistled in admiration. “Man, that hole is baaad. Give me da one where she’s got ’em spread.”
Bugs and Cowboy quickly hurried over. Cowboy took one of the Polaroids and shook his head. “Caddy, ya sure this lady don’t mind ya given’ us a picture of her doin’ this? She know somebody was takin’ her picture?”
“Damn, Cracker, you’re dumber than dirt,” Bugs said. He held up a photo. “Look at this one. She’s lookin’ at the camera and smilin’ while she’s humpin’ this guy.”
Lassiter, a short Californian with blond wavy hair, took a picture and stared in awe. “Why do you call them drive-ons?” He was one of the cherries.
Caddy smiled. “Surf, when it gets hot and nasty in the toolies and you don’t think you can take another step, you pull out that picture. Man, with one look you forget the heat and drive oooon.”
“Yeah, man, it’s what we’s fightin’ for,” added Silk.
Holding up his picture, Bugs slapped Silk’s back. “Yeah, home, baseball, apple pie, and round-eye poontang!”
Ty exchanged glances with Sergeant Hammonds and smiled. The squad was feeling its oats. They had been given the skate job of guarding a bridge that crossed the Poko River into the Dak To base camp. For four days they’d had the duty, and now the mail had finally caught up.
Caddy held out a picture to Hammonds. “Sarge, there’s one here for you.”
Hammonds lifted an unopened letter. “Naw, my Betty would get upset with me lookin’ at another woman.”
“A picture is worth a thousand words,” Caddy said, shrugging his shoulders. “Cat, you want one?”
Ty shook his head. “Naw, it’s hot enough without those.”
“Give ’em to me, man,” Silk said as he grabbed the extras. “I’ll send one to my hole for an example of what I want in my next pony.”
“Pony? What is ‘pony’? asked the bespectacled new PFC who looked like a Harvard lawyer and always seemed lost.
Silk rolled his eyes. “Book Man, you been wid us a week and still ain’t got the lingo. Pony, man, the mail, like in Dear Johns and care packages. Da pony express, man.”
Ty started to get up but noticed Hammonds reading the familiar yellow stationery from his girl. He wasn’t smiling as he usually did when reading her letters. He was staring blankly and trying to hold back tears.
Ty stood and silently signalled Bugs and Caddy. They both understood and motioned the others to take a walk with them. He sat down beside the sergeant and waited.
Hammonds lowered the letter and snarled, “Leave me alone!”
When Ty didn’t move, Hammonds angrily tossed the letter at him. “Here, read it! It’s a fucking classic! She even said, ‘I’ll remember you always.’ Read it! Read it and get a good laugh in this goddamn hell hole!”
Ty collected the three scattered sheets of yellow paper and folded them up neatly. Without saying a word, he handed the letter back. Hammonds stared at Ty, knowing it was no use. The Cat would wait him out all day if need be. If he got up to leave, the Cat would only follow and wait.
He lowered his head, knowing why the Cat was doing this. Nobody in the squad had the luxury of being down or having moody days. Problems had to dealt with immediately or they would become squad problems. Problems meant minds not on business, which would lead to somebody’s getting hurt. And besides all that, Cat was letting him know he cared.
Hammonds looked up at Ty and spoke softly. “Why? Why couldn’t she wait just a little longer?”
Drenched in sweat, Jason looked behind as his men walked up the twisting trail. He couldn’t help but feel proud. His platoon was leading the way for the rest of the company. They were selected to lead because the CO had said he wanted the “first team” up front. For a day and a half the company had searched the smaller hills at the foot of the mountains looking for NVA, but they had found only fr
eshly dug positions. That afternoon they had been ordered to march up a mountain ridge and had entered the rain forest, the thickest one Jason had even seen. It was like a different world under the darkness of the triple canopy. The huge trees dwarfed those on Red Hill, and there was no feeling of serenity. Instead, there was a lingering, ominous smell of rot and decay, and the feeling that the forest was slowly, methodically devouring them. Life was two hundred feet above, in the green majesty of the countless leaves, but below was a brownish, intangible hell.
Bagley held out the radio handset. “L-tee, it’s Six. He wants you to find a night laager.”
Jason cringed. The thought of sleeping on the steamy, decomposing forest floor was repulsive. He felt like a small child afraid of a monster and shook his head to clear away the absurdity. “Tell the ol’ man ‘Roger.’ We’ll hold up as soon as we get to the top of this ridge.”
Colonel Van Thong ran his finger along a line on the map and tapped a spot. “Here is where they will be tomorrow. They carry heavy packs and move slowly. The Americans love high ground and will rest on this hill tonight.”
Major Hai Xuan took the cigarette from his lips and smiled, exposing yellow teeth. “I know that area well. It will be perfect.”
Colonel Thong backed up from the small table, eyeing the major closely. He didn’t like him. Xuan was without emotion, and he was headstrong. The major was one of Thong’s best fighting leaders, but he lacked formal military schooling. He had no refinement or education, and relied solely on brutal discipline and unmerciful killing to impress his leaders. Xuan was a product of the war. War was all he knew and lived for.
He tapped the map again. “The general’s orders are clear. You must ensure that the lesson is inflicted without great loss to our own forces. Pick your ground carefully, and if the Americans seem to be cautious, wait until another time. If the time is right, hit them quickly and fade away.”
“It is about time the general unleashed us,” Xuan said as he inhaled on his cigarette. “My men do not like this running. They want to fight. We will show the general the Yankees are not worth running from. I am honored that you chose me to teach this lesson.”
Thong shook his head. “No, I didn’t choose you. The American unit that has come the farthest into my area happens to be in your sector. Fate has chosen you.”
Xuan felt the colonel’s disdain but didn’t care. He was used to it. The other battalion commanders were treated as brothers, while he alone was looked upon as an uneducated, simple-minded nephew. He tossed the cigarette to the bamboo slat floor and picked up his floppy hat. “Then I thank fate. You can radio our cautious general and tell him the Third Battalion will not just teach a lesson to the Yankees. We will show him—and you—that wars are not won by hiding.”
* * *
Jason awoke and quickly packed his poncho and liner into his rucksack as the dark, gray morning sky began to lighten. He was hungry, but there wasn’t time to eat. The company had received word late last night to begin walking back to Dak To that morning. He stood and looked at the magnificent view below him. Six klicks away, nestled in a narrow valley, was the Dak To airstrip and base camp. He was standing on the edge of a grassy knoll just below a hilltop. The only open spot for miles around, the hilltop was like an island in a sea of rain forest.
Captain Elliott spotted Jason and called him to his location. “Jay, I want your platoon to lead us again. Third Platoon will follow you, followed by headquarters, weapons, then First. This hilltop is a good spot to observe the airfield. I’m having First scatter CS gas crystals all over it so the gooks won’t be able to use it. Go ahead and move out in five minutes.”
Jason looked to his left and saw men from the Third Platoon still sleeping. “Sir, I don’t think the rest of the company is going to be ready in that time. We’re gonna get awfully strung out.”
“Don’t be telling me my business,” Elliott snapped. “Just move your ass straight north and get us out of these goddamn mountains.”
Jason could tell that the lack of sleep and the strain of the humping had taken its toll on his commander. He nodded, with a weak “Yes, sir,” and strode toward his platoon.
Fifteen minutes later, the Second Platoon was making its way down the ridge and was completely swallowed by the rain forest. Jason followed the lead squad, knowing he wouldn’t be able to see the base camp or daylight again until they broke out of the trees five and a half klicks down the slope. The ridge dropped off steeply from the hilltop for two hundred yards, then became more gradual. The narrow finger was void of all underbrush or vegetation but had a series of dips and small knolls. The triple canopy far overhead killed all sunlight, leaving the men in semidarkness.
Sergeant Taloga came up alongside him and spoke in a whisper. “Why we moving so slow?”
Jason pulled out his map. “The company isn’t ready to follow, and I don’t want to get too far ahead. Plus the ol’ man didn’t send out clearing patrols this morning. You can see here on the map this ridge is like a downhill roller coaster with these two little knolls and saddles. We’re going to take it slow and easy and not take any chances. I told Redford to hold up his point team once they reached the second small knoll that’s just ahead. We’ll wait there for the Third to catch up.”
“I knew you’d have an answer,” Taloga said, smiling. “The men wanna hurry and get back. They don’t like it up here.”
Jason walked down the first small barren knoll into a saddle and halted. His point man, Perkins, was thirty yards ahead and kneeling on top of the second knoll. “I don’t like it here any better than they do. Go back to the rear and let me know when Third links up.”
Taloga began to take a step, but Jason suddenly grabbed him. Perkins had thrown up his hand, signalling for everybody to freeze. Jason slowly lowered himself to one knee, keeping his eyes on Perkins, who was crawling backward, obviously frightened. Redford stopped the point man by blocking his path and whispered, “What’s wrong?”
Wide-eyed, Perkins whispered back in a rush, “Dinks, lots of ’em just ahead. I heard ’em first, then I saw them. They’re coming up the knoll!”
Redford spun around and motioned the six men in his squad to follow him. He immediately crawled up the mound and peered over the crest. He had raised his head only an inch when he jerked his rifle up and began firing.
Jason had watched the whole event unfold but still jumped at the sound of the shooting. Whatever Redford was shooting must have been close. The sergeant was on his knees, firing his automatic, when he was suddenly knocked backward. The back of his head seemed to explode. Perkins raised up to shoot but immediately turned and ran. Then Jason saw them: a line of khaki-clad NVA topping the mound. They were running and firing from the hip.
Perkins screamed as bullets tore through his legs. The rest of the squad fired at the point-blank targets, but there were too many to stop.
Jason jerked his rifle up and shot three NVA in less than two seconds and was still too late. Taloga lowered his smoking rifle and screamed for the second squad to come on line behind him. There were no more enemy. They were gone, leaving behind their dead mingled with those of the first squad. They had run up the hill on line and fired, then turned and ran.
Jason could see two of his men moving and began to get up to help them. Taloga grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back. “Get on the fucking radio!”
Jason’s stomach was balled into a painful knot, and his mouth seemed like it was full of sand. Up until that second he hadn’t thought or spoken a single command. His mind was still trying to comprehend what had happened. It was all so quick, the shooting, the charging enemy, the dying. A minute ago Redford was alive,and then in an instant he was dead. The noise, the confusion, the instant reaction of killing men without thinking, watching his men die without thinking, getting up without thinking. He wasn’t leading or in charge of anything.
Bagley held the radio handset out to him. “Sir, the old man wants a situation report!”
Jason
looked at the bodies lying on the slope and took the handset. He yelled toward his men, “Second and third squads, get down here and form a perimeter at the crest of the knoll! Bring the machine guns up! Move!” He put the handset to his mouth. “Six, this is two six. We made contact with an NVA reinforced squad. I am forming a perimeter five hundred meters from your location. I need artillery support and medevac ASAP, over.”
The captain spoke calmly. “Roger, the Third will link up with you in a few minutes. Artillery is coming up on our radio push any minute now. Keep me informed.”
Captain Ky Trung lowered his head as he reported to his battalion commander. “The Yankees surprised the First Platoon as they were moving into their ambush position. The Americans must have left much earlier then we expected. Our lead two squads attacked immediately but withdrew under heavy fire. Our losses are eight dead and three wounded.”
Major Xuan lit a cigarette and blew out a cloud of blue-gray smoke. “Where are the Yankees now?”
“The unit my squads attacked is one hundred meters up the trail,” Trung said, pointing up the ridge. “The scouts radioed that another element is five hundred meters farther up, just below the hilltop.”
Xuan nodded and squatted down. “Attack the Yankees again. Get close and keep them pinned down. I am going to send the Second Company’s platoons to their flanks and have the Third Company move around to their rear. They will attack as soon as they are in position.”
“You are committing the entire battalion?” Captain Trung said, He looked concerned.
Major Xuan smiled cruelly. “Yes, it is time for us to fight.”
Jason moved his platoon to the right side of the mound that was no bigger than forty yards in diameter to make room for the Third Platoon. He had checked the left and right flanks of the ridge to see if he could possibly maneuver around the enemy, but the ground was too steep. Counting his men, he found he had twenty-four who could still fight. Four men in the first squad had been killed, and two were wounded.
the Hill (1995) Page 26