the Last Run (1987)

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the Last Run (1987) Page 36

by Leonard B Scott


  Ellis shook his head at the thought of the involvement by the Community and wondered what "great" secret about the general could be important enough to justify sending an armed courier.

  The Community consisted of the CIA, the Defense Intelligence Agency, the Army Security Agency, and every other gathering group or agency that dealt in intelligence. All worked sitting on their asses and all had failed. None had predicted the disastrous Tet offensive of 1968 or had pinpointed any major Communist political or military headquarters since then. With all their agents, analysts, spy planes, and tons of electronic equipment they couldn't provide the commanders in the field what they needed most: hard, updated intelligence.

  They were all victims of their own secrecy. The compartmen- talization of information, and its dissemination on a "need to know" basis, made for a complicated system that assured sluggish response, kept coordination to a minimum, and made outside interpretation unthinkable. The result was always too litde, too late. The Community had lost its credibility with the field commanders long ago.

  Ellis walked into his room with the captain and locked the door. He sat down to listen to the ritual he'd heard too many times before only to be disappointed and frustrated. The captain began his monotone of instructions, explaining the contents of the message the colonel was about to become privilege to. He was not to discuss, write, or in any way communicate to a second party, the secret contents of the message without an explicit okay from the issuing authority.

  Ellis rolled his eyes as the captain quoted regulations and codes that would be used to ensure his incarceration if secrecy was violated, then described the procedure for destroying the document, once read.

  Finally, the captain unlocked the briefcase and had Ellis sign three forms acknowledging that he understood the rules, then pulled out a plastic-covered envelope marked "Top Secret Eyes Only "

  Ellis opened the envelope and began reading. The first page was a synopsis of the general's life; place of birth, civilian schooling; military schooling and assignments, family, party status, close friends, and enemies. The second page was different. Ellis sat down. He now understood why the captain had been sent. He reread the page with a pounding heart:

  Hanoi's latitude for political and military initiative in support of the war is limited by Peiping and Moscow differences over the general question of strategy and tactics. North Vietnam has to rely largely on aid from Peiping and Moscow, not only for material support for the war effort but also for its own economic survival. As a result of the worsening relationship between the two Communist powers, practical necessity requires Hanoi to remain neutral to the dispute. The divergent viewpoints of Peiping and Moscow, the former advocating uncompromising, total victory versus the latter's demand for a more moderate and conciliatory approach, is a major concern to the premier, Pham Van Dong. (Secret)

  Despite appearances in the recent announcement of a new Communist government formed in the South (Provisional Revolutionary Government of the Republic of South Vietnam), the real military and political leader of the South is General Binh Ty Due. (Top Secret)

  Bottom Line

  General Binh Ty Due is the only true moderate leader in the South not associated with either Chinese or Soviet factions, and is the de facto leader appointed by Premier Pham Van Dong. (Top Secret)

  Termination of General Due would cause temporary paralysis of military and political decision-making processes within the South. All future major Communist military actions would be delayed for unspecified time based on realignment of leadership and/or appointments. (Top Secret)

  General Binh Ty Due's termination is authorized categor 1-Alpha-1. (Top Secret Eyes Only)

  Copy furnished Corps commander

  End Report

  Ellis took a deep breath and set the paper down. Category 1-Alpha-1 was the code that meant heavy friendly casualties were acceptable in accomplishing the mission.

  "Sir, are you finished?" asked the captain, obviously wanting to be done with his duty and to be gone.

  The colonel nodded in silence. The captain pulled a lighter and flat metal tray from the briefcase. Ellis held the report over the tray as the captain lit the corner of the document.

  Ellis watched the report burn, grateful that B-52s would do the killing and that good men didn't have to be sent to die for a purpose they and their leaders would never know about or understand.

  Chapter 24

  It was quiet as only the early morning could be. The jungle still slept as the sky changed from black to dark gray and a white mist oozed from the river into a lingering cloud. Lieutenant Gibson stood on the riverbank and shut his eyes. The mission was about to begin. He absorbed the tranquil silence for a moment, then turned and motioned for Russian and Toan to cross.

  The two men immediately stepped into the river. Gibson watched them disappear into the white vapor and then he went to his knees in the sand. He would wait five minutes, time enough for the two men to secure the crossing site. Behind Gibson, the rest of the patrol waited.

  Russian stepped onto the far bank and halted. The silence was total except for the slight gurgling of the river and the water dripping from his fatigue trousers. Toan stood behind him, burdened with a rattan basket-pack filled with fruit for the spirit house. The old man listened a few seconds, then continued up the bank. His experienced ears told him they were in no danger.

  Minutes later, dark shapes began to emerge from the mist. The patrol was coming: first Lieutenant Gibson, then Wade and the others. Gibson motioned for Russian and Toan to lead on. Walking single file, the patrol snaked down the riverbank. They had traveled only several hundred meters before they came to the junction of the Stadium valley stream and the river. Without pausing, Toan turned toward the mountains and began following the gradually ascending stream. Within fifty paces they reached the base of the mountains and entered the narrow ravine whose rock walls rose straight up to a height of over three hundred meters.

  Russian, feeling as if he'd entered another world, cautiously followed the old Montagnard. The dark canyon became progressively steeper and led to a succession of beautiful, stepped, stream-pools and miniature waterfalls. The looming rock walls were rough with ridges and outcrops that supported a profusion of tropical plants. Splashes of thick, brightly colored mosses clung to the walls in irregular patterns like patchwork. The sky was turning light gray streaked with pale blue, but inside the ravine the eerie mist still lingered.

  The farther into the ravine the patrol went, the more difficult the climbing became. It was like walking up a never-ending flight of stairs as they hopped and scrambled up boulder after boulder, and soon their legs and backs cried out in tormented agony. Even their necks and shoulders grew sore and stiff from constandy looking up at the cliffs for the glint of a rifle barrel or a sign that the enemy was watching.

  The sound of their steps and heavy, labored breathing was gradually drowned out by the sound of crashing water. Toan climbed up a large boulder and stopped. Before him was the rainbow-colored cloud that always made his heart sing.

  Russian crawled up beside him and stared in awe. A waterfall fell in a white, turbulent froth from some forty meters above to crash onto flat, worn boulders. The thick, showery mist made a rainbow with colors so vibrant that they seemed painted.

  The rest of the patrol climbed up the boulder and stood in the drenching spray. It was a once-in-a-lifetime sight.

  Lieutenant Gibson broke the spell. "Russian, ask Toan where we go from here." He had to half yell to be heard over the crashing water.

  Russian leaned over the old man and spoke into his ear. Toan turned wordlessly and pointed toward the falls only thirty feet away. Russian looked at the rock wall looming ahead and shook his head as if confused. He spoke again into the Montagnard's ear. Toan again pointed toward the falls and spoke a few words before walking toward the splashing water.

  Shrugging his shoulders, Russian looked at Lieutenant Gibson. "He say we go into the darkness."

 
Gibson began to ask what darkness, but Russian had already begun to follow the old man.

  Minutes later, Gibson understood. Past the curtain of drenching water was a small cavern. The patrol stood just inside the entrance, staring into a dark void.

  Rose shook his head. "I ain't goin'."

  Preacher patted the small soldier's back. "We have flashlights. You'll be okay."

  Rose stood frozen. "Men, I ain't goin'. I had enough of dark places."

  Preacher pulled a flashlight from his pack and handed it to Rose. "You'll do fine. Thumper will be in front of you, and I'll be behind you."

  Rose sighed and turned on the light. "You stay on my ass and tell me where to go. I'm shutting my eyes, and I ain't openin' them till we out."

  Toan talked to Russian for several moments and Russian translated to Gibson. "He say have men lay down close to entrance and cover their heads. He go into cave and scare out flying demons."

  Gibson rolled his eyes up at the absurdity and began to step deeper into the cave. Russian blocked his path. "He speak of bats."

  Gibson's mouth fell open, and he quickly turned around. "Everybody move close to the entrance and lay down. Stay as low as possible and cover your heads. The old man is going to scare out some bats."

  "Bats?" whined Rose. "I hate bats. I hate caves, too, man."

  Thumper and Preacher moved back, pulling Rose with them, and lay down beside Woodpecker and Wade. Sergeant Zubeck and his men moved to the side of the cave and sprawled out.

  Russian turned on his flashlight as Toan picked up a rock and stepped into the darkness. Russian, walking behind the old man, was trying to light the way when they came to a narrow, deep crevice in the rock floor. Toan hopped over the obstacle and was about to turn to give a warning when Russian jumped and cleared the crevice easily but slipped on the icelike surface on the other side. The big Czech lost his balance and slid into Toan with a jolting crash. Both men struggled to keep their balance and stayed on their feet by holding on to one another. Russian finally got his feet firmly beneath him and panned the light on the slimy floor.

  The cave angled sharply on the other side of the crevice, and a stream of water flowed down the incline into the deep crack in the floor. The water was slimy gray and stank of ammonia.

  Toan walked several paces up the incline and pointed up. Russian slowly trained his light to the ceiling fifteen feet above and immediately froze. The light shone on a teeming sea of life. There was no visible rock, only hundreds and hundreds of brown- black bodies pressed so closely together that they breathed as one. Their wings were folded over their sleeping forms like cocoons. The sight above him explained the smell and the slick floor. Bat excrement was being washed down the floor by the water in a natural cleaning process.

  Russian pressed himself against the rock wall and motioned Toan to his side. The old man heaved the rock upward and the two men covered their heads.

  The stone struck with a dull thud, then fell back and splashed into the stinking stream. At first there was a faint fluttering. Then the sound grew into a roar as the bats, in a frenzy, flew to escape.

  Rose's screams went unheard as hundreds of two-pound flying rodents rushed past in a black, turbulent cloud of furry flesh, slapping with their wings the exposed portions of the men's backs. Woodpecker held the flaps of his boonie hat tight against his face, but still almost lost his hat to the beating. Preacher, praying aloud, held on to Rose with a death grip.

  Wade curled his body into a ball and gasped for air. The multitude of panicking animals was taking all the oxygen. In twenty seconds it was over. Wade lifted his ringing head and opened his eyes. The diffuse light in the cave entrance was thick with dust, as if a rug had been beaten there. The other men began to rise up slowly.

  Lieutenant Gibson shook his head to clear it and spoke in a rasp: "Report."

  Wade checked his men with a quick glance.' 'Three-one okay.''

  Zubeck chimed in, "Two-one ready."

  Toan stood up, walked deeper into the cave, and disappeared.

  Lieutenant Gibson held Russian back and pointed his light into the darkness. The old man stepped into the light and pointed to his right. Gibson took a deep breath and motioned the others to follow.

  Rose shook his head again at Preacher. "I ain't goin', man."

  Preacher took his arm. "Come on, you can't stay here."

  Rose frowned and began walking. "I hate this shit, man. I mean totally, big-time, hate it! You know, man?"

  Preacher patted the small soldier's back. "I know."

  Gibson followed the old man into a corridor that angled sharply right and abrupdy slanted upward at a forty-five-degree angle. The rock floor was rippled and a small stream of clear water ran down its center, glistening with iridescent specks. The cave narrowed to a three foot width and a four-foot height. The darkness was total except for the beam of yellow light from the flashlights. Toan scampered up the corridor like a monkey while Gibson hunched over awkwardly, panning his light nervously.

  The tunnel angled again and became even steeper. The men had to crawl on their hands and knees, dragging their packs behind them.

  Rose bumped his head for the umpteenth time and spun around, shining his light in Preacher's face. "I shoulda killed that stinking Yard the first time I see him! When I get outta here I'm gonna wring his puny neck. Then I'm. . ." He turned back around, mumbling, and began climbing again.

  Matt Wade wasn't sure what claustrophobia was, but he knew that whatever it was, he had it. Twenty minutes in the darkness, seeing nothing but occasional flashes from a flashlight, had done him in. His heart pounded so loud and hard that he couldn't breathe anymore. The walls were closing in and suffocating him. He froze, unable to move another inch. He tried moving and clamped his eyes tightiy shut to will his body to move, but he was caught in unyielding fear.

  Thumper nudged him. "What's wrong?"

  Wade whispered, trying to form his words without screaming. "I. . . I'm sick."

  Thumper crawled past and, taking Wade's arm, tugged him forward. "Don't worry. It'll pass. Put your mind on something else and shut your eyes.''

  Wade shivered all the way inside. The dampness and darkness combined to make him so cold he thought he might freeze to death. Thumper pulled him along roughly, but talked confidently and calmly. "Just move your legs and push forward. You doin' fine. Think about Ginny and keep pushin'."

  Toan had disappeared out of Gibson's light for several minutes, but the lieutenant didn't give a damn. He was too tired to worry. He was struggling just to move one bruised knee in front of the other. Suddenly his light shone on the old man's grinning face. The cave widened and Toan was standing. Gibson crawled a few more yards and joined him. Toan pointed up the steep corridor to a glorious sight. An opening. At least Gibson thought it was an opening. A strange, green-tinted light was twenty meters distant.

  Gibson had to brace his hands on the cave walls to pull himself up the steep incline so as not to fall backward. He approached the opening cautiously, not sure what might be outside. As he neared he saw it was covered by an intricately woven spider web. Beyond the web was a tangle of leafy vines so thick that not a single speck of sunlight shone through.

  Gibson slashed through the sticky web with the CAR-15 barrel as the others came up behind him. He then reached out carefully and made a small opening through the tangle of vine to see if they were in danger. All he could make out was a steep, tree- covered embankment a few meters distant. Pushing more of the vine back and bringing up his CAR-15, he slid out into the glorious sunlight.

  He found himself at the base of a huge, ten-meter-high boulder that had a strange dwarf tree protruding from its top. The tree was beautiful, but it had hideous, snaky roots that crawled down the rock face. Gibson readied his weapon and peered cautiously around the boulder. A tranquil stream shaded by bamboo was only a few meters away. The muffled roar of a waterfall behind the boulder told Gibson his exact location. They were in the saddle between the ring of the moun
tains. Gibson motioned the others out.

  Childs shut his eyes, listening to the radio-relayed message from Lietuenant Foley, who was flying five miles away from the Stadium.

  'Base, Patrol One reports reaching the top and will soon begin search, over."

  Childs snatched up the handset. "Three Alfa, have you got a sit rep from Team One-three, over?

  "Base, that's a negative. Haven't heard from them in an hour since they began moving toward the Stadium. Over."

  Childs cursed under his breath. Selando wasn't following the standard procedure of calling in every hour with a situation report. It could be negligence or . . . "Three Alfa, keep trying to contact Team One-three and report contact immediately. Over."

  "Roger. Out."

  Sergeant Bill Selando held the handset to his ear, listening to Lieutenant Foley call him, but didn't dare whisper a response.

 

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