the Last Run (1987)

by Leonard B Scott

  Rose looked over his shoulder and threw his thumb in the first sergeant's direction. "I'm gonna be just like him one day. I'm gonna be a first sergeant and get rid of foreigners in this Army, like Russian. I'm gonna do it, you just wait and see."

  "I didn't know you were lifer type, Rose," Wade said, a little surprised.

  "Sure, man. I got it. When I leave the Nam, I'm puttin' in to be an instructor at the Airborne school. They was real professionals, and it's a good place to start my career."

  Woodpecker shook his head. "You, an Airborne instructor? Man, us paratrooper's is gonna lose our reputation. Rose, you gonna have to gain some weight. Here, have my roll. You gonna need it, man."

  Preacher raised his milk carton. "To the Rose, an Airborne instructor and future first sergeant. There could none be better."

  The team lifted their milk containers. "To The Rose!"

  The black soldier smiled and pointed his finger at Russian. "And you still stink, man."

  Beneath a giant boulder outcrop Sergeant Din Su Thong shaped the last clay hill while looking at his reference map. The terrain model of the fortress had to be perfect to please his general.

  A young soldier stood by like an assisting nurse, handing the sergeant the instruments he required for his work. Sergeant Thong held out a muddy hand. "White clay."

  Private Nuu reached into a tin bucket and handed over a glob of the special stream clay that dried like iron. Thong placed the goo on the hilltop and flattened it slightly. With a bamboo knife he cut out the ravines and shaped the ridges, knowing his general would want perfection.

  Ten minutes later the sergeant stood back from his work and wiped the sticky mud from his hands. The terrain model was complete. Perhaps now the Tall One would smile. The general had been ill-tempered since his arrival two days before. He'd found General Sang's Second Division improperly positioned and was angry that they hadn't dug protective bunkers. Thong stepped closer to the model and motioned his assistant to him. "We are blessed, Nuu, to work for such a leader as the Tall One. You see now why he is a genius of war."

  The young private yawned. He saw only mounds of clay on the ground that had taken all morning for the old sergeant to fashion.

  Thong angrily kicked at the young soldier's leg. "You are a fool! You appreciate nothing!"

  Private Nuu stiffened and stared at his berater. "I know nothing of maps or units. I was a bricklayer in my village before being drafted."

  Sergeant Thong realized the boy was right. He patted Nuu's back apologetically. "I'm sorry, my friend. I am taking out my anger on you instead of the others who do not listen to our general. They are fools not to appreciate his wisdom. I will explain the terrain model to you and why the general has been so ill- tempered."

  The slight soldier smiled at the old sergeant. "You think a bricklayer will understand?"

  Thong winked. "If he does not, the bricklayer may become an infantryman instead of a lazy aide to the general."

  Nuu laughed and picked up a stick for his teacher. "Teach me, old one. I like being the aide."

  Thong took the stick and pointed at the model. "You see we are in a natural fortress. The river bends around protecting us. We are on the high ground like the lip of an oblong rice bowl, but the bowl has a broken off end. See the large open valley in the center? If you were to stand in its center, you would see the high hills to your north, west, and south. They form a partial ring around the flat valley floor. What would you see to the east?"

  Nuu answered quickly, having walked into the valley from that side. "The rain forest. We came in from that direction two days ago."

  "Yes, the forest. The forest hides our trails. You see we are in a fortress, but it also is a trap. We can only escape to the east if the Yankees come. The general was furious when he found the Second Division was poorly positioned. General Sang had his three regiments placed all along the hills overlooking the valley. They would all be trapped. Furthermore, he had not ordered his men to dig deeply into the earth for protection from bombs."

  Nuu showed confusion on his face. "What was wrong with the unit placement?"

  Sergeant Thong squatted down. "Our general was briefed by General Sang about his regiments' positions when we arrived. The Second's commander said'the only danger was the open valley where Yankee helicopters could land. He'd displaced his forces to attack the Americans and destroy them if they dared be so foolish.

  "The Tall One's face became almost white. He was so angry I thought he might explode. He sat silently for a full minute before dismissing the others, leaving only the Second's commander. He then told the commander he was a fool. He said, 'We are here to train and prepare for an attack of our choosing. If the Americans come we do not fight. We escape to fight again.' He then told the commander to place one regiment in the hills to the north and to place his remaining two regiments in the forest at the eastern end of the valley. Should Americans come, one company in the forest would attack and then pull back and delay while the division escaped."

  Nuu nodded in understanding and squatted down by his teacher. "The Americans won't come, will they?"

  "One never knows. They have planes that see through trees. The general knows this and so directed that bunkers be dug deep. He knows the American ways better than anyone, and he is a fox at outsmarting them. The Americans always bomb just before bringing in their soldiers. If Sang's one company attacks, they will follow like dogs to food."

  Nuu looked worriedly at the model. "We are alone here at the western end of the fortress. There is only a platoon here to protect us. How will we escape if they come?"

  Sergeant Thong pointed the stick. "We will merely walk down the trail that runs along the top of the hills and follow it to the south, and then go east and escape. The Americans will be too busy fighting the company to try and climb the hills."

  Nuu stood and turned around. He gazed down at the open valley floor and looked back at the model. "It truly is a fortress. Your likeness is perfect."

  Sergeant Thong rose slowly. "Yes, but it is sad that those who lived here before had to give up their home for the struggle. The Montagnards have lived here for hundreds of years. The fortress was their home. They are the ones who cleared the valley for planting and it's their huts we now use as our headquarters. One day when we are gone and the war is over they will return to be forgotten again. You'd better go and tell our general the model is completed. The party members arrive this afternoon for the council meeting. He will want to see the model before they arrive."

  Nuu walked down an old beaten path to a large, elevated hut and climbed the wooden steps carved out of red teak. A minute later he hurried down the steps and ran to the sergeant. "Colonel Sy and the general are coming."

  The sergeant looked toward the hut and saw Colonel Sy appear out of the doorway. He was followed several seconds later by his commander, General Binh Ty Due.

  The fifty-eight-year-old general walked down the steps into the diffused light of the forest and approached with his usual precise gait. He was a slender giant, taller than Colonel Sy by a foot, who all recognized immediately. His short, light-gray hair was accented by teak-brown skin, which was wrinkled at die corners of his wise, piercing eyes. His sun-bleached khaki shirt was open at the neck and revealed no rank or insignia on the epaulets or collars. His erect carriage and regal bearing were symbols enough. The taciturn soldier was a genius in the art of war. He had graduated with honors from the Military Academy in Da Lat and later, prior to the colonial war, had attended the French staff college. Fluent in French and a proven leader, he had been one of the staff officers for General Giap in the great victory at Dien Bien Phu.

  General Binh Due studied the model for several minutes before slowly shifting his gaze to Sergeant Thong. "I am fortunate to have such a soldier as you. My eyes betray me when I only see paper. This, my friend, is a living map made by a true craftsman."

  Thong nodded with a smile. "Thank you, my General."

  Colonel Sy stepped closer to
the general, speaking softly. "The model will only serve to humiliate General Sang. He is still smarting from your visit."

  The general smiled.4 4It is a reminder to him during the council meeting to keep his thoughts to himself." The general's gaze shifted back to the model and he stepped closer to study the western end of the fortress.

  He had assumed the mountains were continuous, but there was a tiny split on the most western end only five hundred meters from his hut.

  "Is this an error?" he asked Sergeant Thong, pointing to the small gap in the clay.

  Thong pulled out his map and quickly checked before answering. "No, General. The stream that runs through the valley flows to the river through a ravine."

  The general snapped his head to Colonel Sy. "Have one of your officers check this. This could be an entrance to the fortress that General Sang has not accounted for."

  "Yes, comrade," said the colonel quickly, and motioned Sergeant Thong to fetch one of his lieutenants.

  The general strolled past the model to the large table, which was set up under a rock ledge. He sat down on one of the benches and looked around him. Colonel Sy had a map board placed on a bamboo easel showing the disposition of all the Communist forces in the south. Behind the table was the shallow cave where his communications section set up their radios and small generator.

  Colonel Sy sat down and handed the general a piece of paper. "Here are the discussion topics the committee wants to discuss with you."

  The general squinted, trying to read the small printing, and then tossed the agenda down. "What should I concern myself with?"

  The colonel smiled. "The Politburo has several new policies, but as usual they are based on ideology. Our batde will be between the Peiping followers and the Moscow believers. You must ensure you don't embrace either policy with words they can use against you."

  The general sighed, tired of such meetings. The rhetoric of the party members was difficult to take. The first several hours would be devoted to briefings from each Directorate, who would espouse their great achievements-all meaningless. Only the last hour would be fruitful. The real statistics and successes would be given for him to assess. The party was a victim of its own propaganda. Failures were never mentioned and exaggerated success only painted false hopes. He was only a soldier, not a politician who had to appease the masses. The only information he needed was the truth.

  The general looked at the map and stood. He noted that many of the regular units from the north were not shown. Good. The colonel had followed his instructions to the letter. If the Directorates knew of the real numbers they would scream for more support for their indoctrination program, civilian support, rural cooperatives, state farms, and of course more cadre for the people's liberation armed forces. All made worthy contributions, but victory was not won by spreading his precious trained manpower to the winds. The key to success was the support provided by China and the Soviet Union. Their guns, ammunition, and technical support were the lifeblood of the struggle. Without them the struggle would last another twenty years.

  The Sino-Soviet relationship was deteriorating rapidly, but his government had to please both in order to keep their support coming in. Like his government, he had to appease the Directorates by giving them token manpower and promises.

  Of course, the war was won. He and General Giap knew this a year ago when the Americans began pulling out and started the Vietnamization program. Victory was close. In perhaps only four or five years they would be strong enough to make a final, all-out assault. Patience was now all that was required, but that meant keeping hotheads like General Sang leashed. The Second Division general would attack today if given a chance. He would win a minor batde only to lose final reunification.

  The general picked up the agenda and headed for his hut. Colonel Sy watched his commander go, knowing he would rest and awaken ready to fight the battle of words with the committee. The general was a master and was respected. They would complain and argue but his word was final. When the war ended, the general would return to the North and be a hero, but he would never again lead. He'd made too many enemies, and was a Catholic. He'd never be trusted. He only led now because they needed his military cleverness.

  The colonel was about to stand when a familiar voice rang out. "You called for me, comrade Colonel?"

  Sy motioned the lieutenant to him and walked toward the model. "I want you to check this gap in the mountains. As you can see, it is five hundred meters. The general wants to know if this can be used as an entry into the fortress. The hills behind us are too steep for a force to infiltrate, but this may be a passage. That would require one of our units to be positioned for security."

  The lieutenant pulled out his map and oriented it to the terrain model. "I will return within several hours and report to you, comrade."

  General Binh Due sat on the top step of his hut looking at the valley below. "It is beautiful. The Montagnards knew a wonderful life here."

  Sergeant Thong was standing behind the general and squatted in the doorway. "Yes, their village was below us next to the stream. I saw their ruins when Nuu and I collected firewood. These huts we stay in were for the hunters and only used by the men. The small hut behind us was their spirit house."

  The general turned to the old sergeant. "You know the Montagnards9 ways?"

  "Yes, my General, I lived in the highlands as a boy. My father traded with (he Jari for fish and wild fruit. This valley would be perfect for a tribe. They had the stream and flat valley to grow food and the hills would provide hunters plenty of birds and animals."

  The general looked back to the valley, speaking softly. "It is good to see the sun rise and set. The fresh air renews my strength. The tunnels are no place for soldiers."

  Sergeant Thong nodded in silence. He knew his general needed this trip to renew his strength. But meetings such as the one that would take place today also had great propaganda value for the people. They would see for themselves how vast were the liberated areas. Thong knew the general didn't like meetings, but enjoyed the marches to the different areas.

  The general stood up and walked into the old hut. He wrote several messages and handed them to Thong. "Send these to boulder mountain and wake me when the committee members arrive."

  Thong took the messages and bowed slighdy. To show respect, he waited for the general to turn his back, then retreated quietly.

  The sergeant took his time walking toward the boulder outcrop. The great teak and sayo trees smelled of life and provided more than adequate cover from Yankee planes. There was no underbrush and one could see the peaceful valley below. The diffused light cast the small camp in a golden hue. All was calm, quiet, and peaceful.

  He entered a shallow cave, where Corporal Din sat at his radio receiver. Five sleeping men lay on the ground behind the corporal.

  Sergeant Thong handed over the messages. "It is time for another to make the long journey."

  Corporal Din looked at the paper and sighed in relief. "I am blessed not to be young. I would not like having to march the twenty kilometers to the radio transmitter station."

  Thong agreed with a nod. The general had only brought twenty men from his staff. When he left the tunnel headquarters, his deputy took command and had full authority to make decisions. The general kept abreast of the situation by monitoring the radio. He could not send out any messages from the fortress location or the signals would be triangulated. The communications platoon had to send runners to radio relays to send messages. The system was slow but guaranteed protection for the fortress.

  Sergeant Thong looked at the five sleeping men. "Which one should I wake?"

  Lieutenant Huy walked up the ridge trail carrying only a canteen. He had been wounded in the right leg a year before and still had a slight limp. He strolled down the old Montagnard trail until he came to a sudden vertical drop. The mountain seemed to have been sliced by a giant knife.

  He looked down the sheer rock face to a stream one hundred meters directly be
low. Backing up a step from the dangerous edge, he could see the other side of the ravine only twenty meters away. The stream could be used as an entry, he thought, and walked down the steep ridge paralleling the crevice. His leg hurt as he made his way down the incline, and he slowed his pace to stop the throbbing. Three-fourths of the way down the hill he crept back to the crumbling edge and peered over. The stream was only fifty meters down, but any thought that the ravine could be used as an entrance now dissolved. The valley was higher than the river. The stream water gushed out of an opening just below the lip of a solid rock wall in a beautiful waterfall to the stream far below. No one could enter the fortress and no one could go down unless they had ropes.

  The lieutenant glanced one more time at the waterfall, then began the long walk back to the camp.

  Lieutenant Foley exhaled a deep breath as the first camouflaged C-130 landed with a roar and sped down the runway. In minutes, the aircraft's rear cargo door opened, and the first contingent of Rangers filed out. Major Shane was leading them.