the Last Run (1987)

by Leonard B Scott

  Cautiously, Rose began to move down the hill, keeping close to a large banana tree grove. He came to a slight outcrop and froze. The team immediately knelt down. Rose lay down slowly and peered over the outcrop. Thirty yards below, five Vietnamese squatted by a fire.

  Rose raised his hand and motioned his team sergeant up. Wade crawled forward and peered over the outcrop just as four of the VC stood. One of the Vietnamese, wearing a strange, wide- brimmed hat, walked into a thicket of bamboo and disappeared. Wade crawled back a foot and waved the rest of the team toward him. He was about to assign positions and targets when Rose poked him and pointed down the hill. The VC wearing the strange hat reappeared from the thicket holding a khaki satchel. He spoke to the other men as he picked up his rifle and began walking down the slope. Three other soldiers slung their weapons and followed. They were all carrying AK-47s, and one of them, who also carried a large medical shoulder bag, turned and waved to the remaining soldier, an older man who wore shorts.

  Wade cussed under his breath. There was no time to assign targets. He'd have to let them go. Damn! Had the dinks waited only thirty seconds more, his men would have been in position and . . . Shit!

  Wade tapped Rose and pointed to his own eyes. Then he pointed to the remaining soldier. It was a signal for Rose to watch the old man. The sergeant backed up and motioned Thumper to him as he pulled out his map.

  "Thump," he whispered, "We gotta wait here and see what the dink does. We can't get any closer or he'll hear us and we can't shoot or the guys that are left will hear. We'll wait awhile. If he looks like he might leave, grease him."

  Wade tapped Preacher and held out his hand for the radio handset.

  Sergeant First Class Childs was shaving, using a small signaling mirror, when the RTO yelled from the TOC. "We got a sighting from Three-one!"

  Childs tossed down the razor and ran for the bunker with half his face still covered with white shaving cream.

  The radio operator handed the handset to the sergeant.

  "This is Hotel Three. Go."

  "This is Three-One, spotted five VC, from John, one right, two point one up. Four carrying AK-47s heading southeast. One VC remains by fire, am observing, will initiate later. Out."

  Childs stood and looked at the map where scattered black dots had men's names beside them. He found 4 'John'' and plotted over one grid square to the right, then up 2.1 grid squares. The location was almost three kilometers due west of An Chon in the foothills. Come on Wade, kill the bastards.

  Doan iy finished cleaning the rice pot and squatted by the fire. He couldn't help wonder how many such fires he'd been warmed by in the past years. The orange and red embers were old friends and had provided his ancient bones much comfort. It should be a simple mathematical problem, he thought. I have been with the struggle for ten years, multiplied by 365 fires a year is 3,650.

  The thought of so many days made him lower his head in reflection. It was ten long years ago that he had left his school classroom and joined the struggle. Uncle Ho had told him, "Words are more important than guns. The people's struggle must have teachers to educate the young for the future ... for the future holds our ultimate victory."

  iy smiled to himself, thinking of the many young faces he'd made followers. Uncle Ho would have been pleased to know his recruit of ten years before had become a master teacher.

  iy shoved dirt on the dying embers and stood. He decided to listen to the radio and talk to the remaining three men in the underground complex to pass the time. He stretched his arms upward and headed for the thicket.

  Wade waited five minutes for the old soldier to come out of the bamboo before finally deciding to check it out. He whispered to Thumper, "I'm going down there and see what's in that thicket. Somethin' ain't right."

  Thumper nodded and signaled to the others that the sergeant was going down and for them to cover him. Wade took off his pack and checked his CAR-15 one last time before going over the outcrop.

  He low-crawled for ten meters and stopped. In front of him, sticking out of the ground by a thorn bush, was a two-foot-high, four-inch-round bamboo post. Several inches down from the top were cut-out square holes. It looked almost like a periscope.

  Damn* it's a breathing tube or chimney, he thought. His stomach knotted into a ball and his throat craved moisture. He knew what the tube meant. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he continued crawling down the hill.

  Thumper couldn't see his sergeant through the vegetation. He waited for what seemed like hours until he noticed a movement by the bamboo thicket. Wade had crawled to the side of the bamboo and was trying to see through the thick stalks. The sergeant stood, took a step to the side, and peered through the small opening. Cautiously, he stepped forward into the thicket and disappeared. Thumper raised die M-79 launcher and clenched his teeth, waiting for the sound of the CAR-15. Seconds passed, but nothing happened. Suddenly he saw Wade's back as he stepped backward out of the thicket. Wade looked up toward him and motioned them down quickly.

  Childs sat holding a cigarette. He wanted desperately to light it, but he wouldn't. He'd gone two weeks without one, and he'd promised himself he wouldn't start again. The radio speaker crackled and a whispering voice filled the bunker.

  "Hotel Three, this is Three-one, over."

  Childs brought the handset up. "Hotel three, Go."

  "We found an underground bunker with at least one dink inside. He doesn't know we're here, we're checking it out. Out."

  Childs turned to the radio operator. "Get on that other radio and call Fourth Division S-3, wow!"

  Wade positioned Russian up the hill to watch for anyone approaching, and whispered to the others. "We got an underground bunker of some kind. The entrance is in that bamboo. I'm gonna toss in a grenade and follow it, then ..."

  Woodpecker stepped closer, interrupting in a whisper, "There's got to be an escape hatch somewhere. If any more are in there, they'll flank us."

  Wade's eyes widened. "Damn, you're right. Preacher, you stay here and cover the entrance. If that door opens, shoot the son of a bitch and toss in a grenade. The rest of us will scatter out and try and find the escape door."

  The Indian nodded apprehensively and took a grenade from his ammo pouch.

  Woodpecker pointed up the hill. "It's gotta be on the side of the hill where they could sneak out without being seen. It's on the far left or right."

  Wade pointed to Thumper. "You and Woodpecker take the left. Me and Rose will take the right. If you find it, signal Russian and he'll signal us. I'll tell Russian what's hap- penin'."

  The two teams broke up and began the search. After fifteen minutes, Wade was beginning to think it was hopeless. Rose leaned against a tree and was about to reach for his canteen when he noticed something. Black wire was attached to the tree. When he backed up, he could see a small antenna hidden in the branches. He followed the wire down to where it was buried in the soil. Rose snapped his fingers at Wade and began pulling the wire up. The American-made communications wire yielded easily to the pressure as it had only been buried an inch. A long furrow quickly kicked up and snaked down the hill toward a large boulder. Wade and Rose followed the wire to the rock and saw the faint square outiine on the ground. Both men looked at each other at the same time-the escape door!

  Wade gathered his team at Russian's position on the hillside. "Thumper, you and Woodpecker watch the front entrance. Russian stays here and watches. Me, Rose, and Preacher will go in from the escape tunnel. Thump, if you hear us firing, back up and wait till they run out. Don't throw any frags in the cave, it might get us. And watch out for them throwing grenades before they come out. If we can't get in or it looks like there's a bunch of 'em, we'll throw in a gas grenade and wait for 'em. If I blow my whistle, everybody comes back here to Russian. Any questions or suggestions?"

  The men all shook their heads.

  "Okay, let's find us some dinks."

  Using his knife, Rose began slowly prying open the wood- and soil-beveled door, whi
ch was constructed like a plant bedding box to hold the grass and foliage of the surrounding area. Had they not found the wire, they would never have located the entrance. Preacher held his weapon ready as Rose inched the door back gendy, exposing a small black hole. Wade knew immediately he couldn't go down. The entrance was too small for his shoulders. Rose dropped his pack and pulled out his .45. 'Til go alone."

  Preacher shook his head and dropped his pack. "I'll go with you."

  Wade tapped Preacher, whispering, "Let him go, it's too tight for two."

  The sergeant handed Rose his penlight and buck knife. Rose tossed down his flop-hat and put the penlight in his mouth. He slid the knife under his belt and took one last deep breath of fresh air before lowering himself into the darkness.

  Doan TV got to his feet. He could tell the young boy was tired of the conversation and would rather listen to the radio. Ty nodded to the second soldier, who glanced up only momentarily from writing in his notebook. Ty entered the short tunnel to return to the sleeping area. A soldier he'd talked to previously lay in his hammock sleeping. Ty turned around, retraced his steps back into the radio room and entered the tunnel to the third room, where the rice was stored.

  Deciding to kill some of the ever-present rats, he lit the kerosene lamp.

  Rose reached the tunnel floor and moved forward only three steps before making out a wall direcdy to his front. There was just enough light from the open door above to see that the tunnel made a ninety-degree right turn. Throwing a grenade into the entrance would have been useless. He flicked off the penlight and held his breath as he edged around the corner. Damn! He peered down a twenty-foot corridor, five-feet high and two and a half feet across, that slanted down at a thirty-degree angle. At the end of the corridor was a faint light. Son-of-a-bitch, why do I do this shit, man? Beads of sweat stung his eyes as he moved slowly down the inclined floor, praying there were no hidden traps or snakes. The hard clay walls smelled of musty smoke and damp cloths as he got closer to the end. He could now make out that the tunnel made a turn to the left and that the light was coming from around the bend.

  Rose wiped the sweat from his forehead and shut his eyes for a moment to regain his confidence. Grasping the pistol tighter, he began to peer around the corner when a sound made his body turn to stone in rigid fear. It was a faint scampering noise coming in his direction. Suddenly, several large rats scurried around the corner and crashed into the terrified human obstacle. The foot- long furry creatures squealed and fought past his legs, leaving Rose shaking so badly he fell to his knees.

  The black soldier hadn't cried out only because he'd almost swallowed the penlight. Suddenly a Vietnamese voice rang out crystal clear from around the corner. The high-pitched voice seemed to be talking into the tunnel.

  Rose backed up a step and pulled the knife. He pressed himself against the clay wall, staring at the bend. There was a human shadow dancing on the tunnel wall. The Vietnamese voice spoke again with a small chuckle, then something slapped the wall.

  Rose bit down on the penlight and inched closer.

  Doan Ty, the master teacher, peered into the tunnel and struck the wall again. He knew he had some of the animals trapped. He picked up a net specifically made for rat catching in the tunnel. The net was loosely fitted between two bamboo poles. He would walk into the small confines holding the poles against the walls, and the rats would run to the escape exit, then stop in a frenzied group. Ty recalled how, in the old days, rats were a source of food when times were bad. He barked into the tunnel once again and picked up the two other pre-positioned objects needed for the hunt, a small stick to beat them with and an old pith helmet fitted with a flashlight. He turned the light on and placed the helmet on his head, then stuck the club in his waist band.

  "Rats, you die for the Fatherland," he said with a laugh and entered the tunnel. He pushed the poles against the walls and began walking and singing the Provisional Government's national anthem, the first song he would teach the children:

  Liberate our South Vietnam!

  Heroic Southerners stand firm!

  United we will brave the storm!

  To save our land we'll fight to the end

  March, march, onward, gun in hand.

  Our day is . . .

  He only saw a blur before falling backward with a shooting pain in his abdomen.

  Rose yanked the knife free from the Vietnamese's stomach as he threw the man back and viciously slashed upward at his throat. Doan Ty tried to scream but only gagged on his own blood.

  Rose clapped his hand over the man's mouth and drove the knife deeper into his larnyx until the cartilage crunched. The smell of blood was overpowering as Rose raised up and withdrew the knife. His arms and hands were covered in warm blood that smoked in the dim light as he placed the knife in his belt. Without shaking, he took the pistol from his leg pocket and stepped over the body.

  Wade whispered into the hole several times, thinking he had heard something. He sent Preacher down the steps, only to have him come back seconds later whispering, "Rats."

  Wade handed the small Indian his 9mm Browning and told him, "Go in just a litde ways and wait."

  Preacher took the pistol and walked to the first ninety-degree turn and peered into the tunnel. A flashlight was shining toward him from the floor at the end of the corridor.

  Rose entered the room swinging his body left, then right, holding the gun with both bloody hands. The room wall was stacked with bags of rice and wooden boxes. The lamp, almost out of kerosene, began flickering. Rose heard music. He stepped quickly across the room to the connecting tunnel just as the light faded out. The music was coming from just ahead, where there was more light. He slid along the wall and stopped as he caught sight of a small Vietnamese sitting at a desk with his back to him. Rose began to step closer when the man spun around as if to speak. Rose fired. The explosion within the tunnel was earsplitting. The shock wave caused his eyes to bulge in terrific pain. He fell to his knees and shook his head to clear the blur before him. Suddenly the lights went out, leaving him in total darkness. From the left came a flash of light spitting flame combined with a thunderous bloom!

  Rose fell to the floor as the clay wall showered him with dirt. Someone was shooting at him. A loud moan only a few feet away starded him. Rose's ears rang, but the sound caused chills to run up his back. Suddenly the moan turned into a scream and a hand touched his head. Rose fired point blank and spun over just as the room filled with more flashes of light and explosions. Bloom! Bloom! Bloom!

  Rose screamed out and fired toward the muzzle flashes until the pistol emptied. The radio station concluded its song and a woman spoke softiy. Rose heard rustling and grabbed for another magazine. A small flashlight clicked on, its white spodight shining on the far wall, then swung in his direction.

  Rose grasped the magazine just as the light shone in his face, blinding him. Rose shut his eyes, waiting for the bullet, when suddenly a pistol fired behind him. The flashlight clattered to the floor and a body crumpled down on top of it.

  Preacher flicked on the old man's helmet light and panned the room.

  Rose looked up as the light hit his face. "Sweet Jesus."

  "No, it's Black Eagle," said the Indian, kneeling down.

  Thumper and Woodpecker sat waiting as the entrance door swung open. A bareheaded Vietnamese popped his head out and then ran up the steps. Woodpecker was about to fire when Thumper pulled the trigger of his .45. The small older soldier was picked up off the ground and flung back into the bamboo. The bullet had blown through his heart, killing him instandy. Woodpecker checked the body as Thumper approached the entrance cautiously.

  A voice from within yelled out, "Thumper?"

  "Yeah!"

  "Did you get him?"

  "Yeah."

  "We're comin' out."

  Childs listened as the speaker box crackled and Sergeant Wade's voice filled the bunker.

  "We got four weapons, one is a K-54 pistol. There're about twenty sacks of
rice and assorted boxes of medical supplies. It looks like a headquarters of some kind. Over."

  Child could hardly contain his pleasure as he pushed the transmit bar. "Roger, Three-one, have good copy. We're sending a platoon from the fourth ASAP to police up all captured equipment. Over."

  "Negative. Negative. Hotel Three. We think the four we saw this morning will be coming back. All their equipment and packs are here. We will set up ambush and wait. We're Charlie Mikin'. Over."

  Childs smiled faindy and pushed the side bar.

  "Roger, Three-one, understand. Will keep support ready for your call. Out."

  Childs tossed down the handset and pounded his fist on the table. "Ya done good Wade Real good! Hot damn, we killin' them bastards!"

  He picked up the other radio handset and took a breath to keep from showing his excitement. "Cloverleaf Three, this is Ranger Hotel Three. Over."