Sergeant Wade looked behind him and sighed. Robbins had fallen too far behind again. The young soldier's face was flushed and he looked about ready to drop-as did Stevens. Wade kept moving for a few minutes until the team had crossed the open area and again entered the rain forest. He then motioned for Thumper to signal Rose to halt for a break.
Robbins, exhausted, fell back on his pack and shut his eyes to stop the dizziness. Stevens dropped wearily down beside him, wanting to puke or die. At that moment it didn't matter which. Either one would be relief.
Wade shook his head and whispered to Thumper, "We're gonna have to slow down or they ain't gonna make it."
Thumper reached for his canteen. "I wish Lieutenant Dickey could see them. Maybe he'd listen to you next time. These guys just got off the plane from the States a couple of weeks ago. They don't know their butts from holes in the ground, and they aren't even climatized yet."
Wade took a drink from his friend's canteen and gave it back. "We'll give 'em ten minutes to rest and then move out. Go back and make sure they drink plenty of water. I'm going up with Rose and pull security."
Stevens finally opened his eyes and looked at Robbins. "Man, this is bullshit."
The redhead's eyelids struggled upward slowly. "Yeah. I'm thinkin' this Ranger business isn't for me."
Stevens snickered as he lay his head back. "You just now figured that out? Shit, I knew this was bullshit all last night when I didn't get a bit of sleep. I'm gettin' out of this unit as soon as we get back. I wanna hump with a regular line company. At least you got lots of people to keep you company at night. Six dudes in Charlieland don't cut it, man."
Robbins smiled through his misery. He was glad to know he wasn't the only one who'd been miserable during the night. He was about to shut his eyes again when he saw Russian looming over him with a strange look in his eyes.
"No move," the barrel-chested soldier hissed, and raised his rifle up as if to beat the cherry with the butt.
Robbins threw his hands up to protect himself as Russian slammed the M-16 down, just missing his head. Stevens and Robbins sprang to their feet to run from the crazy man, but Russian still held the rifle butt to the ground. They then saw a thin, iridescent green body writhe and curl around the weapon stock. A bamboo viper's head was pinned beneath the rifle butt.
"Cut his head off," Russian demanded.
Both men looked at each other in disbelief. Neither was about to get close to the well known two-stepper-so called because its victims, once bitten, took only two steps before dying.
Thumper brushed past the two startled men and pulled his knife. He cut the deadly snake's head off in one swipe. Russian walked over to the cherries, and with a look of disgust took hold of Robbins's fatigue shirtsleeve and pulled him over next to Stevens. He motioned them both to sit, and then knelt in front of them, whispering, "You do not listen to what my sergeant say. He tell you do nothing he does not do. My sergeant did not lay down. No one lay down in the jungle until you check the ground first. The snake a good lesson for you. No matter how tired you become, you must be alert."
Thumper leaned over Russian's shoulder. "You were lucky. Both of you drink a full quart of water and then we'll move out.''
Two hours later, the team found the trail they were to ambush and hid themselves in a thicket of bamboo only fifteen meters away. Sergeant Wade had positioned himself and the cherry, Robbins, together. Ten meters to his right were Thumper and Rose; to his left, at the same distance, were Russian and Stevens. Hidden near the trail were deadly Claymore mines.
Wade was almost out of patience as he set down the radio handset. Because of the new men, the ambush had taken too long to set up, a situation which could have killed the whole team. The cherries didn't know or understand the procedure and had to be talked through it step by step. Stevens had really screwed up and walked out onto the trail. It'd taken Russian five precious minutes to erase his footprints and rearrange the plants he'd disturbed and crushed. Any dink could spot footprints and see a trampled path leading to a hide position.
It was that damn Dickey's fault. Lieutenant Marvin Dickey, his new platoon leader, had ordered Wade to take the new men on the mission. The platoon was short of people, and the L-tee had taken new replacements without sending them to the Mini- Ranger school at An Khe. The course was two weeks long and taught basics for survival. It also weeded out those who weren't physically or mentally tough enough for the dangerous work. Dickey had made the decision not to send the cherries to the school over the protests of Sergeant First Class Gino, the Third Platoon sergeant, and over all the other team leaders as well.
Dickey was a dumb-ass for not listening to his experienced seigeants. Damn, Wade thought, if Major Shane, his company commander, knew about the situation, he'd have the shavetail Dickey's ass!
But wishing wouldn't make the situation any better. Major Shane and the rest of the company were in Da Lat, one hundred miles away, while the Third Platoon was based in Phan Thiet, working independently for the Corps G-2 with dumb-ass Dickey in charge.
Since Dickey had taken over a month before, the platoon had gone to hell in a handbasket. The bastard was getting good men killed with his stupid orders and lack of experience.
Wade let out a deep breath. He had to relax and put his anger aside. Anger dulled the senses. He lay watching the trail for thirty minutes when, to his far right, a small, thin NVA soldier appeared. The man wore khaki pants and a gray shirt, with an ammo-pouch vest strapped to his chest. He wore no hat, his black hair was neatly combed, and he seemed to be grinnning. He carried an AK-47 in the crook of his arm. Another soldier appeared behind him, and then three more, all similarly dressed and armed, but wearing soft, floppy, boonie-hats.
Wade pressed himself closer to the ground as the enemy moved farther into the kill-zone. He tried to keep his hand from trembling, and he began to press the Claymore mines' detonator.
The world seemed to explode into a dark, brown-black cloud only a few feet away. The thunderous, earsplitting "boom!" was followed quickly by two more loud thunderclaps of sound as the other team's mines exploded.
Wade rose to his knees and fired into the billowing cloud. He saw one soldier kneeling to his right. He brought the figure into his sights and squeezed the trigger. The man pitched sideways, then tried to get up. Wade was about to fire again when he heard the distinctive ''ping-pop "of a grenade's level falling free and the striker detonating the primer cap. He spun around in time to see Robbins throw himself to the ground after tossing the grenade. The green sphere sailed only ten feet, hit the bamboo, and bounced back to the side of the prone soldier.
Wade screamed "Nooo!" as he threw himself backward and tried to flatten himself on the ground.
A vehement, explosive ' 'crack!9 9 shook the earth and slammed his head down, then up, as his body was flung on its side. He lay stunned, hearing nothing but a dull ringing noise that careened through his brain. His body felt as if it was wrapped in a tight cocoon of small pins that stuck and prodded his every nerve. A blur appeared, a blur that became a man screaming at him and grabbing him, but Wade couldn't hear the words or feel the hands.
Thumper shook his team sergeant again. "Matt!"
Russian busted through the bamboo and fell to his knees beside Thumper. He pushed the big soldier back gently and began to inspect the sergeant's wounds. Stevens followed behind Russian, holding a bloody bandage to his arm. He'd been shot through the biceps. Stevens took one look at Robbins's ripped corpse and fell to his knees, gagging.
Thumper knew Russian had plenty of experience with wounds and picked up his M-79. One look at the five bodies sprawled on the trail told him the ambush had been set up perfectly. He yelled toward Rose, "Secure the south end of the trail. I've got the north."
Russian pulled back Wade's shirt and sighed in relief. He patted Thumper's leg. "The sergeant is stunned, his wounds are not bad. He will lead us again."
Thumper relaxed his taut body and smiled. He clapped Russian's shou
lder and stood up. His smile dissolved upon seeing the torn, blood-splattered body of Robbins. He walked over and put his hand on Stevens's shoulder. "Come on, kid, we gotta search the bodies."
Stevens looked up with tear-filled eyes. "But we have to . . . can't we . . .?"
Thumper shook his head sadly. "There's nothing we can do for him now. Come on, we gotta husde."
Wade regained consciousness and opened his eyes slowly. Robbins lay beside him, his eyes open, blank, seeing nothing. The dead man's face was gray-white; his freckles seemed transparent.
Wade turned his head away. He felt sick. He tried to sit up but his head seemed too heavy. He shut his eyes to stop the throbbing, gathered his strength, and tried again. He swung up to a sitting position and focused his eyes on Thumper* who was wrapping a clean bandage around Stevens's arm.
Thumper, seeing the sergeant sit up, patted Stevens's back reassuringly and moved closer to Wade. "You feelin' better, huh?"
Wade looked around quickly; they were next to a large, open area.
"How'd ya get me here?"
"Russian carried you. How's your shoulder?"
Wade looked at Thumper strangely, then glanced quickly down at his right, then left shoulder. His fatigue shirt, on the left side, was stained deep crimson. Until that instant, he hadn't felt a thing. Suddenly, as if his eyes had to see and confirm the injury, he felt a dull ache. He prodded himself and realized he wasn't hit bad; there were just a few sensitive areas, which meant a few embedded fragments. Thumper was whispering to him.
"The bird is on its way. We collected all the shit from the dinks but had to destroy the weapons and leave 'em. Stevens took an AK round through the upper arm. The kid played4 John Wayne' and stood up after the Claymores blew."
Thumper glanced over his shoulder at Robbins's body. He'd had to wrap a poncho around the soldier's middle to hold m the intestines. The grenade blast had almost severed the body at the hip.
"I didn't see the dink who threw the grenade. Did you?"
Wade shook his head. "It wasn't a dink; Robbins threw it. The kid got excited. It hit the bamboo and bounced back."
Thumper slapped his weapon's stock. "Damn that Dickey! The cherries should never have come!"
Wade's head was still ringing, but he could hear the familiar popping of helicopter blades as a bird made its approach.
Phan Thiet Third Platoon Ranger Base Camp
A helicoper landed in a cloud of dust and four men hopped out. Wade had refused to get off at the Evac hospital and had stayed on the bird as it continued its flight to the Ranger camp. He and the three other team members walked directly toward the sandbagged Tactical Operations Center.
Sergeant First Class Gino, the Third Platoon sergeant, stood waiting for them outside the TOC entrance. He was stocky, about thirty-five-years old, and had the tough look of a mafia hit man. His beady brown eyes fixed on the approaching team sergeant. Wade threw down an NVA pack partially filled with papers and documents at Gino's feet.
"Where the hell is the lieutenant?"
Gino looked into the sergeant's angry eyes, then at his bloodstained shirt.
"He's on the telephone to the 01' Man explaining what happened and why he used untrained cherries."
Wade glared at Gino for a few seconds, then softened his stare.
"You called and told 'em, didn't you?"
Gino smiled faintly. "Yeah, as soon as I heard what happened. I called Da Lat and told Childs what Dickey had done. Major Shane called a few minutes ago and sounded pissed!"
Wade reached for his chewing tobacco pouch but stopped. It was in his left leg pocket, but his arm hurt too bad to move. Gino noticed his discomfort and inspected the wound.
"You gotta get that cleaned up."
Wade withdrew the tobacco with his other hand.
"Not before I talk to that dumb shit lieutenant! This platoon and this operation are fucked up . . . and it's because of him I'm not goin' out again with cherries. It's gonna get us all killed!"
A tall, dark-haired first lieutenant walked out of the TOC door and, seeing the team, broke into a smile.
"Good job, men. You got the documents and five confirmed kills!"
Wade's face flushed, and he tossed the tobacco pouch to the ground.
"Yeah, and we got one man killed and one wounded because of your stupid order!"
The lieutenant's smile vanished. "You watch your mouth, Sergeant!"
Gino quickly stepped between the two men and put his hand on Wade's chest, pushing him back. "Wade, you report to the medics and get your shoulder checked. Russian, you take him! Thumper, you stay and debrief us. Move!"
Wade pushed Gino's hand away. "Lieutenant, I hope you're satisfied! Your stupidity killed that cherry!"
Russian grabbed Wade's waist roughly and pulled him away.
"The sergeant is delirious! He is upset and doesn't know what he says." Rose grabbed Wade's shirt and began tugging.
Wade fought their grip.
"Lieutenant, you lrilled Robbins, you son of a bitch. You murdered him and ..."
Lieutenant Dickey pointed his finger at Gino as the men pulled Wade away.
"You heard that! He cussed me! He . . . he . . .!"
"He's shot up with morphine, Lieutenant," said Gino blandly, picking up the NVA pack.
Dickey stammered, "Yes, but that's insubordination! That's verbal assault! I want charges written up on him!"
Gino eyed the lieutenant pathetically. "It'll never hold up. Major Shane will never sign off on it, so forget it. Come on, Lieutenant, we've got to debrief Thumper and get the report to G-2."
Dickey put his hands to his hips. "You called Da Lat, didn't you? You told Sergeant Childs about my orders, and he had Major Shane call me . . . didn't you?"
Gino motioned Thumper inside the TOC. As soon as the big man disappeared, Gino shoved the NVA pack into the lieutenant's arms.
"Yes, sir, I did! You screwed up, sir! You didn't listen to me or the team sergeants. Wade was right. You did kill Robbins and yesterday Welch and Gymon. They all died because of your stupid, fucking order to take untrained cherries to the field. You better accept that fac$ and start listenin' or you ain't gonna have a platoon! You better start lookin' around and throw out the bums you accepted in this unit. We got potheads, dopers, and shitheads! You coddle them and won't let me throw 'em out!"
Dickey smiled cruelly. "That's it! Sergeant Gino, you're relieved! I've been waiting for you to say something like this. You never liked me! You've always fought every order I've given. Well, you've finally done it. You're through."
Gino shook his head tiredly. "Lieutenant, you can't relieve me. Major Shane will have to do that! Now, like I said, we got to get this information to G-2. Are you gonna debrief, or me?"
Dickey spun around on his heels. "We'll see. Sergeant! I'm calling the major now and we'll see!" He brushed past Gino and hurriedly entered the TOC door.
Chapter 2
Da Lot Temporary Headquarters Sierra Company, Seventy-fifth Rangers
Major Ed Shane slammed the telephone handset down angrily and stood up. "That's it! I want the Third Platoon back here now!"
Sergeant First Class Jerry Childs slowly raised his eyes from the report he was reading. "Sir, you're gonna have to clear that with Corps. The Third Platoon is their baby."
Shane paced back and forth like a caged panther. He was six feet tall and thin, but had powerful shoulders, developed from years of competitive swimming.
"Screw Corps! I've had it. I'll go to Corps tomorrow morning and talk to the G-3. The Third Platoon has lost three men in two days and doesn't have enough experience to do the job. Damn it! It's Corps's own damn fault for giving me nothing but new replacements instead of experienced men from line units like we need. Dickey can't control the platoon. He's new and doesn't have enough experience."
Childs threw his legs up onto the desk. "Gino says the L-tee is a shithead."
Shane began pacing again. "What do you expect? He doesn't know anythin
g. I'll get him squared away. Corps won't give me any other officers. Damn! They say we're pulling out of Nam and can't fill us up to strength, and yet they keep asking us to do more."
Childs lit a Camel and blew out a cloud of smoke.
"Sir, when you're at Corps, you better be calm. General Way- land doesn't like Ranger-types, and now that his deputy, General Burton, is gone, we don't have many friends up there."
Shane stopped pacing. "Yeah, I know; but the situation is getting too bad to continue like it is. We can't do the mission Corps wants unless we have support. I think once I explain the problems to Wayland's operations officer, he'll understand."
the Last Run (1987) Page 2