by Jack Murphy
Sweat poured down his face, stinging his eyes, as the garbled voice came through the receiver. It was barely audible above the gunfire.
“-andby, five mike-”
Sean choked down his frustration, sweeping gunfire into the jungle as Pao and Tom bounded towards him. In between shots he could hear angry shouts in Vietnamese, they were still damn close. The pilots told him five more minutes but they would be lucky to last five more seconds.
With the Recon Team back on line with each other, Vang and Sean hurled smoke grenades between themselves and the enemy. With a hiss, the grenades began billowing clouds of high concentration white smoke. Now that the NVA's line of sight was obscured, the team collectively picked up and ran further into the jungle, once again attempting to elude their pursuers.
Gunfire continued to crack behind them as the Vietnamese forces popped off random shots. Once they had moved a sufficient distance, the team moved into a file, cutting through the jungle as fast as they could. Sean muscled the pilot into the center of the formation to make sure he could keep tabs on him.
Good men had already died on the rescue mission, and Sean would be damned if he was going to lose the pilot now.
The Recon Team scrambled downhill, sometimes sliding down the slick undergrowth on their backsides, before combat boots broke their fall in the stream at the bottom of the gully. After the briefest of glances at his map, Sean motioned for the team to continue downstream.
He was known as being good in the woods among the operators who made up their covert paramilitary unit. Staff Sergeant Sean Deckard came alive out on patrol, instincts flaring and keeping him alert. Tactical decisions were weighed and acted upon in fractions of a second. He was the One-Zero, the team leader of RT Key West.
Reaching for his hand mic, Deckard raised the Huey pilots who were inbound to their position. Quickly, he made them aware of their situation and gave them new grid coordinates he wanted them meet them at. They didn't have time to find a landing zone, but it would be a hot extraction, of that there was no doubt in any of their minds.
“Roger, One-Zero. Gator Three-Five, out,” the pilot's voice crackled over the handset.
Sean gritted his teeth as the team continued to splash through the stream. He could hear more shouts and the occasional gun shots nipping at their heels. The enemy hadn't reestablished contact with the team, but would shortly if they didn't extract soon.
“That way,” Sean ordered, pointing up hill.
There were no clearings for the choppers to land. All they could do was find some high ground and hope for the best.
As they slogged their way up hill, pushing branches out of their way, the radio came back to life. Their extraction was one minute out. Down below they could hear the NVA sloshing through the stream, looking for spoor they almost certainly left behind in their haste.
“I'm popping smoke,” Sean informed the pilots in between pants as he struggled to catch his breath. The bayonet had only opened a glancing wound against his side, but it still burned like hell.
Twisting and pulling the pin on another smoke canister, Sean tossed it to the top of the hill. When the grenade began to billow yellow colored smoke, he spoke back into his hand mic.
“Confirm my smoke.”
“I've got yellow smoke, One-Zero.”
“That's us. Coming in hot.”
In the distance RT Key West's One-Zero could hear the buzz of rotor blades.
At the summit of the hill the Recon Team dug in as best they could, taking positions behind dead fall and the fan rooted jungle trees. The Khaki clad NVA troops were now scurrying up the side of the hill, pith helmets bobbing up and down as they negotiated a path, following in the footsteps of their quarry.
Sean motioned for his men to stay behind cover and concealment. Wait for the enemy to come within hand grenade range.
Freeing his final hand grenade from his web gear, he yanked the pin with a index finger while holding the spoon down. Breathing shallow breaths, his uniform was now soaked through with sweat. His arm pits had gone soppy, grit gathered in the corners of his eyes.
Dropping his free hand, the surviving members of the team lobbed M33 frag grenades downhill. They detonated in quick succession, their efforts rewarded with screams of agony. Now that contact had been reestablished the NVA opened up, dozens of muzzle flashes lit up with staccato bursts of gunfire.
Suddenly a shadow appeared overhead, rotor blades beat at the jungle foliage, whipping broad leaves back and forth.
Tom moved underneath the Huey with their package, the Navy pilot. A rope ladder was kicked and dropped from the helicopter, uncoiling it's way down to the ground. With the rest of the team burning through what little ammunition they had left, Tom got the pilot into a climbing harness and snap linked him into the ladder.
Next, he called the two Montagnards over from the defensive perimeter. Each team member wore a STABO extraction harnesses as their standard equipment, which magazine pouches and canteens were attached to. The short, indigenous tribesmen quickly snapped into the ladder. A nervous look passed between them before all eyes turned to their team leader.
Sean hammered another long burst downhill before turning and making a mad dash, darting under the helicopter. NVA were just cresting the hill as he got his snap link around the last strut on the ladder. Before he could even signal that he was hooked up he found himself yanked into the air, no longer moving under his own power.
With his CAR-15 hanging over his shoulder by it's sling, he was lifted straight up and through the jungle canopy, Kalashnikov fire chasing them away as they made their extraction.
Undulating waves of green moved beneath them as the pilot banked hard, taking them on a heading back towards South Vietnam.
Sean strained in his harness. The STABO rig was uncomfortable as hell, but it was better than being dead. Feeling something wet dripping on the back of his neck he swiped a hand across the back of his head. It came back coated in bright red blood. In a moment of panic he ran his hand all over his scalp, fingers probing for a wound that wasn't there.
Looking up, he saw Pao's body slumped lifelessly in his harness. The corpse rocked back and forth in the wind as they were towed under the helicopter, bouncing off a terrified looking Vang every few seconds. Pao must have eaten a round on the way out. Half the team cut down to rescue one pilot.
It was a long flight, made longer by the straps digging into his thighs and the thought his dead comrade dangling above him.
* * *
Command and Control North or CCN headquarters was little more than a collection of oblong military buildings along the shore of the South China Sea and surrounded by concertina wire. The extraction Huey had thankfully landed at a Special Forces Camp after crossing the border, allowing the Recon Team to detach from the ladder and climb into the helicopter. Pao's body was wrapped in a poncho and sat between the surviving SOG members.
The Huey, or slick, as the men called them, circled around the CCN camp, establishing radio contact before coming in for a landing. Peering down below at the landing area, Sean could see a half dozen slicks with rotors spinning.
They would have gotten word about RT Key West's successful extraction. The only explanation was that another RT was in contract somewhere else. At any given time multiple teams were running operations in Laos, Cambodia, and North Vietnam. In the past, they had inserted teams who never even established contact with HQ at their first comms window. Entire Recon Teams swallowed up by the jungle.
When the helicopter finally set down, a team of doctors and medics was waiting with stretchers. They led the fighter pilot away, his eyes reflecting the fact that his mind was still somewhere back in Laos. His psyche would be playing catch up for a long time to come.
Pao was carried away and Tom laid on one of the stretchers. He had suffered a grazing wound across his shoulder. The flesh wound would require some stitches but he'd be back on patrol in no time. Deckard knew from experience.
One of CCN'
s medics, named Jim, came running up to Sean and pressed a bandage against his side where he had almost been skewered by the bayonet.
Looking over at the Montagnard mercenaries boarding the slicks on standby with their American advisers, Deckard leaned in and yelled in the medic's ear.
“Where is Hatchet Force going?”
Hatchet Force was the quick reaction team composed of American SOG commandos leading the Montagnard tribesmen and South Chinese Nung mercenaries that responded whenever the smaller six man recon teams got in over their heads.
“We got two teams inserted over the fence a few hours after yours,” the medic yelled back. “Both are in contact and we're just waiting for the green light from higher. Now, let’s go, we need to get that cut cleaned out.”
The team leader nodded his head, holding the gauze in place over his wound. Grabbing Jim by the collar he screamed over the sound of the helicopters.
“Hey, my boy Vang took a round through his shoulder,” Sean lied. “You better catch up with him and make sure the docs know about it. You know how some of these 'Yards are about shit like that. Sometimes he thinks you can just suck it up or some shit.”
“Fuck yeah,” Jim grunted. “I'll go take care of it. See you up at the aid station, okay?”
“Sure thing,” Sean replied patting the medic on the back as he chased after Vang.
Looking around to see if anyone was watching, Sean quickly tied the combat bandage around his abdomen to hold it in place before buttoning up his spray paint covered OD fatigues. Running over to a water basin next to the airstrip he refilled both of his one quart canteens and secured them on his web harness.
Dashing over to the helicopters, still on standby, he found Rogers, one of the supply sergeants, handing out bandoleers or ammunition. Grabbing two for himself, Sean flung them over his shoulder and jumped on the nearest Huey as the rotors cranked at a higher pitch.
Seconds later, Jim was left wandering the camp looking for the Recon Team leader as the olive drab colored helicopters shot over the camp, heading for Laos at full speed.
Read the conclusion to PROMIS: Vietnam now and look for the forthcoming sequel, PROMIS: Rhodesia in the near future.
Acknowledgments:
First and foremost I want to thank the very first Deckard fans, Rob, Karl, and Doug. This book would never have existed if it wasn't for you three spurring me on with encouragement and enthusiasm for a full blown Deckard novel. I would also like to acknowledge Glenn and Terry at MackBolan.com for hosting the very first Deckard shorts about ten years ago while I was still just a kid.
I want to thank my awesome proof reader, Gloria for her professionalism and tolerating my misuse of the English language.
It goes without saying that Marc Lee did a slamming job with the cover image helping to fully realize what this book is about. I highly recommend his services, just contact him at “[email protected]”.
I also want to thank Hank Brown and Jack Badelaire for their feedback and support for this project to include impromptu tech support!
Last but not least, I want to thank Caterina for putting up with me hiding in my corner of the apartment while I hammered away at this book day and night. Thanks for understanding honey.
Glossary
.300 WinMag: Sniper rifle chambered for the .300 Winchester Magnum cartridge
1911: .45 Caliber pistol
2REP: Elite airborne unit within the French Foreign Legion
40mm grenade: A grenade fired from a grenade launcher rather than thrown by hand. Also see: HE and
HEDP for different types of grenades
727: Civilian passenger aircraft
AAR: After Action Review, conducted post-mission to establish what happened and critique mission performance
AC Milan: Italian soccer team
AG: Assistant Gunner, carried ammunition, spare barrels, and tripod for a machine gunner
AH-60L: Black Hawk helicopter outfitted with a machine gun and rocket pods
AK-103: An updated form of the AK-47 rifle that can be fitted with a variety of different optics
AK-47: Avtomat Kalashnikova-1947, following the standard Soviet weapons naming convention. Avtomat meaning the type of rifle: automatic. Kalashnikov comes from the last name of the inventor, Mikhail Kalashnikov and the year 1947 is when the rifle went into production. The AK-47 is the world's most ubiquitous battle rifle, having been used in virtually every conflict since the Cold War.
AN/PSQ-20: Advanced form of night vision goggles that also incorporates thermal heat vision to help detect targets.
Antonov 125: Large Russian-made cargo airplane
AO: Area of Operations
APOBS: Anti-Personnel Obstacle Breaching System
Arystan: Kazakh Anti-Terror unit
Aurora: Allegedly the code name for a classified spy plane
Bilderberg Group: Secretive, yearly roundtable type meeting of the world's most influential leaders in business, politics, and the mass media.
Bohemian Grove: Occult ritual taking place in California once a year and attended my much of the US political and business establishment
BOLD: Blood-Oxygen Level Dependence, used to measure which parts of the brain are active
C130: US Air force military cargo airplane
C17: The C130's big brother, can carry more equipment and personnel
C4: Composition Four, plastic explosives
Camelbak: Plastic bladder used to carry water in, commonly carried on a soldiers back and drank through a long tube that acts as a straw
CDC: Center for Disease Control
CFR: see Council on Foreign Relations
CO: Commanding Officer
COG: Continuity of Government
College Park: See Special Collections Service
Council on Foreign Relations: Has been described as a parallel government. A think tank that discusses various foreign policy issues.
CZ75: Czech-made 9mm pistol
Delta Force: US Army counter-terrorist unit
Det Chord: Detonation Chord, used to sympathetically detonate larger explosive charges
DevGroup: US Navy SEAL counter-terrorist unit
Dragonov: Russian-made sniper rifle
DShK: Soviet era 12.7 machine gun
EM: Electromagnetic
ETA: Estimated Time of Arrival
EUC: End User Agreement, a legal device that attempts to prevent arms transactions from happening among blacklisted countries or groups.
Exfil: Exfiltration
FDC: Fire Direction Center, used to coordinate mortar fire
FM: Frequency Modulation, a form of radio communication
FMK2: Argentinian made fragmentation grenade
fMRI: functional Magnetic Resonance Imaging
FN P90: 5.7 50 round sub-machine gun manufactured by Fabrique National of Belgium
FNG: Fucking New Guy
Glock: Austrian made brand of pistols
GPS: Global Positioning System
GROM: Polish counter terrorist unit active in the War on Terror
GSG-9: German counter-terrorist unit
GUARD: Global Unconventional Aid, Rescue, and Defense, a US-based Private Military Company
Gulfstream 500: Luxury private jet used by corporations and the wealthy
H&K G3: German-made 7.62 battle rifle
HALO: High Altitude Low Opening, also known as Military Free Fall or MFF
HE: High Explosive
HEDP: High Explosive Dual Purpose
HGH: Human Growth Hormone
HK: Heckler and Koch, German arms manufacturer
HN-5: Chinese copy of Soviet era anti-aircraft missile launcher
HTT: see Human Terrain Team
Human Terrain Teams: A military project that provides socio-cultural experts to help commanders on the ground understand local cultures.
HVT: High Value Target
IED: Improvised Explosive Device
IFF: Identification Friend or Foe
&
nbsp; IMF: International Monetary Fund
Infil: Infiltration
IR: Infrared
IZLID: Infrared Zoom Laser Illuminator Designator
J-10: Chinese fighter jet
Jet Ranger: Civilian helicopter manufactured by Bell
JP-8: Military grade jet fuel
Ka-Bar: Military fighting knife
KIA: Killed In Action
Little Bird: Special Operations helicopter used to insert small teams of operators onto objectives
M203: Under barrel, breach loaded, 40mm grenade launcher
M4: Shortened M16 carbine, commonly carried by US forces
M81: Fuse ignitor
Main Core: Classified US Government computer system
MC-130: Special Operations variety of the C130 cargo transport aircraft