“What you’d find?”
He considered making up a number. Eight would sound good. Twelve would sound better. Who would go out to check? If they weren’t there in the morning, who was to say they weren’t there now? “Nothing, they took their dead and wounded with them,” Singer said.
“You sure you hit some?”
“We killed some, but the bodies aren’t there.” Maybe they’d find some in the morning, but it didn’t matter.
“What was that M16 fire a while ago?”
“I heard something, but not sure what it was. You ready to go?”
“We’ve been ordered to stay,” the Shake and Bake said.
“What?”
“They want us to hold these positions.”
“Are they crazy? Our positions have—”
“If we weren’t hit right away, the lieutenant figures we won’t be hit and the company is coming this way in the morning. They don’t want any NVA setting up here to hit the company.”
“The lieutenant is nuts. If the NVA want, they can set up the other side of the river. We’re accomplishing nothing here.”
“Our orders are to hold here.”
“Well, I am not keeping the same position we fired from just waiting for them to come back and hit us. It’s stupid. I’ve already moved the men across the trail. We’re north of you now on the same side. Make sure everyone knows. I don’t want to be carrying in any more bodies.”
“Just hold tight. A few more hours it will be light.”
“A lot can happen out here in a few hours. This is fucking bullshit. We killed them and now we should get out of here.”
The Shake and Bake didn’t answer. Their talking was done.
Singer moved back, feeling his way in the darkness for what he hoped would be the last time. He didn’t know how many times he could run around in the dark before getting shot by an NVA or one of the nervous Cherries, but he figured he’d already used up more than his share of luck and didn’t want to have to push it any farther. California wasn’t happy when Singer told them they were staying and made more threats toward the lieutenant and the platoon sergeant. Singer shared California’s anger but didn’t comment.
“What do we do now?” the Cherry asked.
“Like before, we wait and listen. If anyone comes by, we kill them. When it gets light, we’ll go in or the company will come out,” Singer said.
“Too bad the Cherry Lieutenant ain’t coming out tonight,” California said.
“Yeah, him and that fucking New Platoon Sergeant,” Singer said.
After that the three of them lay there in silence in a tight circle, isolated by the darkness despite their physical contact. There was no need for a guard rotation. With enemy patrols in the area, none of them would sleep. Singer could feel the quiet tension radiating from each of them. The minutes were dragged out by the darkness and the dire possibilities the night still held. Singer felt alone in his wait for the enemy, yet he had to worry about California and the Cherry. Despite his effort to avoid it here he was again, responsible for others.
Singer put his head down and briefly closed his eyes. Open or closed, it was hard to tell the difference. When he lifted them, he could see nothing on the trail. The Cherry’s leg pushed tighter against his own. He could hear the Cherry’s slightly nasal breathing. On the other side of the Cherry, California was invisible, but Singer knew he’d stay alert. He reached over and patted the dead Cherry’s body, then let his hand linger there a while. They were both beyond comforting anymore.
The patrol had started so long ago Singer could barely remember its beginning. If they got hit now he didn’t know what their chances would be, seven men alone in the dark, three Cherries and the New Guy spread out in two positions that didn’t really support each other. And a body to carry if they had to move. The firebase wasn’t that far away, but on this kind of night it would take a reaction force a long time to get to them, if they even sent one. It didn’t matter. Against a large enemy force, they would all be dead before help arrived. He wasn’t counting on any help. He’d have to do it on his own. One dead was all he intended to allow tonight.
The flowing water gurgled softly. While he listened for the sound of footsteps that would mean the killing and the dying wasn’t over, his anger festered and he plotted his revenge.
24
June–July 1968
Vietnam
The dawn sulked across the landscape in diminishing shades of gray that held no promise of sunlight. A low blanket of clouds hung menacingly across the sky, and leaves hung deathly still in the breathless air. The soft murmur of the river was the only sound. They’d made it through the predawn hours without any further enemy contact, but even with the growing light, Singer remained on edge and continued to listen and search without turning his head, as he’d practiced in the woods around home. He knew even slight movement could give away his position, which at home might mean a year without venison and here could bring death. The enemy might be waiting for dawn, thinking they’d relax or sleep. He wouldn’t relax until they safely joined up with the company.
“You awake?” he asked.
“Yeah,” California answered as he had each time Singer checked, which was often.
“Yeah,” the Cherry said more softly.
“Stay alert,” Singer said so softly that he wasn’t sure they heard him.
He mentally fingered his only grenade, which he’d taken from the dead Cherry, measured the movement it would take to pull and throw it and then once more in his mind counted the magazines that remained in his ammo pouches and the bandolier that hung across his chest.
The umbrella of grayness made it impossible to measure the passage of time, but it wasn’t long before the Shake and Bake came up the trail with the New Guy and the two Cherries from his position next to the river. Singer stayed at his night position with California, the surviving Cherry, and the body, watching them approach, unsure what was happening. Fatigue was evident in the slump of their shoulders and the slack position in which they carried their rifles. The Shake and Bake stopped near the dead Cherry’s helmet, which still lay on the trail where it had fallen hours before. The New Guy and two Cherries stared at the helmet, then looked about uneasily.
“We’re going in,” the Shake and Bake said.
Singer stood up stiffly. It had been hours since he moved, and he was uncertain if he would have been able to run had he needed to. Everything looked different in the subdued daylight. The river and the mountains behind it looked almost serene. But heavy clouds set a somber mood. The acrid residue of fear hung in Singer’s mouth, and his anger at another senseless loss had yet to fade.
“I thought the company was coming out.”
California and the surviving Cherry stood up just behind Singer.
“We’ve been ordered back to the firebase,” the Shake and Bake said.
“They never were coming, were they? We stayed out here for fucking nothing. The fucking Cherry Lieutenant thinks this is a fucking game.”
“We’re heading in,” the Shake and Bake said, looking at his watch.
“Most of us, anyway,” Singer said. “Are they sending an evac for the KIA?”
“Not sure they can fly today.” The Shake and Bake looked up at the sky as if considering something besides the flight of helicopters. “Anyway,” he said, looking back at Singer, “we’ve been ordered to walk in.”
“We should leave him and let the Cherry Lieutenant come get him,” California said. “I’m tired of carrying bodies.”
“Fuck them. Their time will come,” Singer said.
“It’s coming,” California said, and he and Singer exchanged a look.
Singer slipped the strap of his M16 over his shoulder, bent down and grabbed the dead Cherry’s feet and waited for California and the other Cherry to each take an arm. The body seemed heavier this morning than last night, when he’d been wired with adrenaline. He pivoted in place so California and the Cherry could lead and carry th
e dead Cherry headfirst. They moved out to the trail and fell in with the others, laying the dead Cherry down on the ground while they waited to get going. The two Cherries with the Shake and Bake stared at the dead man, the first dead GI they’d seen. The New Guy looked away. Singer wished they had a body bag.
The Shake and Bake came over. “Carlson,” he said. “Terry Carlson.”
Singer closed his mind to it and let the name drift away in the dead air.
The Shake and Bake knelt and pulled up at the chain that held the man’s dog tags, bending down to read them as if to confirm he was right. He left them hanging round the Cherry’s neck, and when he stood, Singer saw a sadness in his eyes he’d seen before in the A Shau.
“Okay let’s get going.” The Shake and Bake looked at the two Cherries with him. “Take his legs.”
“No, I got him,” Singer said, moving back to stand at the dead Cherry’s feet.
The two Cherries glanced at the Shake and Bake, who merely shrugged.
“Okay. You take the point, you bring up the rear,” the Shake and Bake said to the two Cherries. “Take it slow, just follow the road. It’s only a short ways back. Even though we’re close, it’s still dangerous, so be careful. Everyone, stay alert.” He looked at the second Cherry. “Your job is to watch our backs, which means you spend most of your time looking behind us.”
“I know, Sarge,” the second Cherry said.
“Pick up the helmet,” Singer said.
“I got it,” the Shake and Bake said. “Move out.”
The Cherry on point started out uncertainly and the others followed, with Singer, California, and the surviving Cherry carrying the body as they had before.
As they moved passed the berm, Singer stared at it and the tangle of brushtops and tree trunks just beyond it, which gave no indication of how far down it was to solid ground. He dismissed the urge to drop the body and peer down over the berm. What a fucking place for an ambush position. They’d have never set up there had they seen it before in daylight. Scenes of clinging to the slope in pitch darkness, their narrow escape back to this side of the berm, and the brief firefight flashed through his mind.
“Hold up a minute,” he said, then stood there oblivious to the fact the others in front of them kept moving.
He saw the markings on the berm where they’d crawled back and forth over the top, the impressions where they’d lain, and the scattered M16 shell casings. But it was the dark stain near the top of the berm and the rivulets that ran from it to the small pool at the bottom that held his attention. He saw the Cherry’s head against the berm as if bowed to say a prayer and the bullet hole in the Cherry’s forehead. He felt wetness on his fingers and then Stick’s chalky, ghost-like face and the wet stain beside it.
California and the Cherry who held the dead man’s arms kept looking back at Singer, but he was oblivious to their stares.
“Shouldn’t we be moving?” the Cherry on drag finally asked, watching the first group, who were already fifty meters away.
Singer didn’t answer.
“Hey, come on. We need to get out of here,” California said. “This guy’s heavy.”
Singer tore his gaze from the spot where the Cherry had died and looked at the voice.
“You okay?” California asked.
“Yeah, fine. Let’s go.”
As they moved, Singer stared straight ahead up the road to avoid looking down at the dead Cherry’s face. Too many men were in line already waiting for him to avenge their deaths. He was determined not to add any more. Up ahead with the Cherry on point, the Shake and Bake and the New Guy stood waiting.
“Is there a problem?” the Shake and Bake asked when everyone had caught up.
“No problem,” Singer said.
“If you need to stop or switch off, say something,” the Shake and Bake said. “Let’s stay together.”
“Just like last night, right?”
“We had orders.”
“There are orders and then there’s what you need to do to survive and to protect your men. I thought you learned that by now.”
Singer saw California looking back at him and figured they were both thinking of the A Shau, when Singer refused an order to pull back and leave California pinned down and on his own.
“Try to keep up.” The Shake and Bake turned and motioned to the Cherry on point to get moving.
“Right,” Singer said.
They trudged back along the trail to where it met the road, then turned west and followed the road for almost two klicks until they were at the foot of the hill the firebase occupied. There they turned off and climbed the spur that the convoys used for overland resupply to the firebase. The gloom hung over the morning threatening rain. Singer’s arms ached, but he wouldn’t give up the job of carrying the dead Cherry. Twice he had to stop to rest or regain his grip, but still he refused help. The Shake and Bake had again tried to have the two Cherries relieve Singer, but didn’t force the issue, standing by patiently each time Singer stopped. Just before the gated entrance to the firebase, Singer stopped again and set the Cherry’s legs in the red dust of the road. He took his rifle off his shoulder and handed it to California.
“Help me with him.”
Singer bent down and grabbed the dead Cherry’s shirt and right arm and pulled him up and threw the body over his shoulder, then stood, bearing up under the weight.
“What are you doing?” California asked.
But Singer was already walking toward the gate. The guards stood motionless as the seven men entered. Then they dragged the concertina wire gate shut. Men looked up. Some stood to watch the procession. A medic ran forward.
“I’ll take him,” the medic said.
“Get out of my way.” Singer pushed past and marched across the perimeter.
California, the Shake and Bake, the New Guy still carrying the radio, and the three Cherries trailed behind.
“Where’s the Cherry Lieutenant?” Singer stopped and looked around when he reached his company’s area.
“Let me take him to the first aid station,” the Shake and Bake said.
“Where’s the Cherry Lieutenant?” Then he saw him and advanced toward him.
“Let it go,” California said. “I’ll find us some beer.” He hurried to catch up.
At the last minute, the Cherry Lieutenant looked up and stood to face Singer. The New Platoon Sergeant stood hesitantly and backed away.
Singer marched up to the Cherry Lieutenant and laid the Cherry’s body heavily, so close that the Cherry Lieutenant had to take a step back to avoid being hit by the body.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” the Cherry Lieutenant asked. “Take that man to the first aid station.”
“He’s dead. You did this,” Singer said. pointing his finger in the Cherry Lieutenant’s face. “This is your fault, your responsibility.”
The Cherry Lieutenant’s hand settled on his sidearm. “You were out there. It looks more like—”
“You killed this man, you and your stupid ambush.” Singer realized his hands were empty and recalled giving his rifle to California.
“Dead are a cost of business.”
“He didn’t have to die except for your fucked-up orders.”
“How many did you get?”
“What?”
“Did you kill any NVA?”
“Your stupidity got this man killed and might have gotten us all killed.”
“Did you kill more than you lost?”
“This isn’t a fucking game.”
“It is. Haven’t you figured that out yet?” The Cherry Lieutenant grinned, showing perfect teeth.
“The man’s dead. We’ll see if you’re still smiling when your time comes.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“Men like you never last.” Singer turned away and grabbed his rifle back from California, who was just a few steps away.
“You better learn to keep your mouth shut and follow orders or you’ll finish your
tour in LBJ,” the Cherry Lieutenant said.
Singer stopped and started to turn back, but California grabbed his shoulder.
“It ain’t worth going to jail for,” California said. “There’s too many people watching.”
Singer pushed his way through the group that had gathered and saw the New Captain with Top beside him, standing a ways off, watching the scene. Close enough to have heard everything. This time he’d done it and would surely pay for his insubordination. Maybe Top could get away with challenging officers, but Singer was in trouble.
“Let the gooks get him,” California said, back at the bunker after the first beer. “He won’t last long.”
“If he doesn’t get us killed first.”
“You need another beer,” California said, holding one out to Singer.
But the beers didn’t dull his sense of dread or mollify his anger. Something bad was coming. Even the sun was hiding.
When Top came by in late afternoon, Singer was sure the ax was about to fall, that he was looking at an Article 15 or even worse. But Top only asked him what had happened. Singer told him all of it—the late ambush, the order to split the squad, the screwed-up terrain, the order to stay out after contact. He even told him of the earlier confrontation with the Cherry Lieutenant and New Platoon Sergeant and their issues from the A Shau and award ceremony. If Top was surprised by any of it, he didn’t let on. His face remained stoic as he asked questions, nodding at the responses. But Top’s eyes narrowed and lines around his eyes deepened as he listened.
“Okay,” Top finally said. “Stay out of the lieutenant’s way and don’t go off halfcocked again.”
“But I—”
“If there’s a problem, see me first.” Top looked back and forth between Singer and California. “Don’t do anything stupid, either of you.”
“Right, Top,” Singer said.
California nodded, but looked to be suppressing a grin. Maybe it was just too many beers.
Top started to leave, then turned back. “Bravo Company found two bodies at your ambush site, and two fresh graves across the river.”
Perfume River Nights Page 33