He could hear the whole conversation between Hetten and the commanding general. Disbelief covered his face for an instant just before the general’s party reached him. Paul couldn’t believe that Hetten was actually taking credit for those kills. He was lying to a general officer.
“Sir, this is my team,” Hetten stated the words as if he owned the men,
“and Lieutenant Bourne here is my executive officer. He normally stays inside the camp and runs things for me while I patrol.”
Paul felt like puking as he watched Hetten move down the line, introducing each man to the general. When they reached the end of the formation, Hetten looked back over his shoulder and spoke to Paul, “Lieutenant, give the men a break. Sergeant Dryman and myself will brief the general in the TOC
on our most recent operations.”
“Just a minute, Captain, before you dismiss your men,” the General held his hand out toward his aide.
Paul called the troops to attention and moved to stand next to his captain.
“Lieutenant, please fall back in with the troops,” the general smiled, and Paul obeyed.
“Officers, Americans, and commandos, I’m proud to be out here today and a bit surprised also . . .” the general started his speech, “I came here to award the Silver Star to a very gallant officer, who engaged a vastly superior enemy force and with only forty Hoa-Hoa commandos . . . he defeated them!”
Paul grinned. He wasn’t expecting to win a Silver Star, actually he was glad just to be alive after what had happened out there.
The general continued, “. . . but upon my arrival here at My An, I find that he followed one outstanding feat with another! Back to back! I am very impressed with this kind of leadership and guts!”
Paul glanced over at Braverman, who had been watching the lieutenant with a spark of pride in his eyes.
General Pick cleared his voice. “As soon as I return to my headquarters, I am going to have my G-l upgrade this Silver Star into a Distinguished Service 154
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Cross!” The general turned and looked at the A-Team and saw Sergeant Braverman, but this time he recognized him. “I see another old war horse is amongst us.” He faced Hetten again before speaking. “If you keep this up, young man, you’ll end up with a Medal of Honor like Sergeant Braverman.”
All eyes flashed to where Braverman was standing at attention. No one on the team knew that Braverman was a Medal of Honor holder, and the sergeant blushed over all the attention he was receiving.
“You men must be proud to have an officer of Captain Hetten’s caliber for your leader!” The general pinned the Silver Star on Hetten’s muddy jacket pocket.
“Thank you, sir” Hetten saluted.
“You deserve it, Captain!”
“Sir, if you would follow me to the operations center, we’ll begin our briefing.”
“Please, lead the way.” General Pick smiled, but something was bothering him as he walked with the captain. He couldn’t quite place what was wrong.
Paul started to follow the general and Hetten toward the bunker.
When the party was out of hearing, Braverman spoke, “He’s gone too far!”
Paul stopped following the general’s party and changed directions. He went over to the commo bunker and poured himself a cup of coffee, then went back outside the bunker and slid down into a Vietnamese squat next to the sun-warmed sandbags. A large wasp flew by carrying a dead spider and circled a few feet over Paul’s head. Paul focused his gaze on the flying insect.
“Sir! that has to be one of the guttiest fucking liars in the Army!” McGrath roared out the words.
“Mmmmmm . . .” Paul watched his wasp gain altitude.
“Sergeant Braverman is madder than hell!”
Paul didn’t hear the communications sergeant. He was totally absorbed watching the black two-inch-long insect struggling with its load.
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The curled edge of the steel canteen cup burned his lip as Paul took a sip of hot coffee. The wasp that he had been watching was only a speck in the light blue sky. What Captain Hetten had done in front of the whole team occupied his mind. A soldier just didn’t lie to a general officer, under any circumstances. Paul had started to regain his feet and go over to the operations center when the new lieutenant stepped around the corner of the communications bunker.
“Hello, I’m Lieutenant Vainbane,” his hand was held out. “Heard a lot of good things about you.”
Paul accepted the handshake. “Heard about you, too, Vainbane.”
“I hope it was half as good as the stuff they’re spreading about you all over group headquarters in Nha Trang.” Vainbane tried complimenting his rival.
“By the way, what in the hell is going on here at My An? Everyone looks as if their best friend just got zapped.”
“It’s rather obvious. My An is not a happy camp.” Paul’s eyes were expressing as much information as the words he was speaking. “What’s your first name?”
“Hell, it’s a loser; most people call me Bane.”
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“Fine! Well, Bane, Camp My An is having a few internal leadership problems.” Paul glanced over to where a half-dozen of the team members were talking under the kitchen lean-to. “Why don’t you get some chow? I’ve got some work to do over at the TOC.”
“I’m not really hungry. If you don’t mind, I’ll just tag along with you.”
“Whatever flips your skirt.”
Vainbane followed Paul across the open parade grounds in the center of the small camp and around the water tower to the Tactical Operations Center where Hetten was briefing the general and his party. The two lieutenants arrived just as General Pick and Captain Hetten stepped from the sandbag entrance of the bunker.
General Pick was speaking to Hetten. “Captain, you’re doing a damn fine job securing this new area.”
“Thanks, sir! We try hard!”
“Well, keep up whatever you’re doing!” The general angled toward the helipad as he walked. He looked up and saw the two lieutenants watching him from a few meters away and smiled at Vainbane, “Captain Hetten has just informed me that you’re some kind of real fighter from III Corps.” The general pulled the visor of his field cap down to protect his eyes from the bright sunlight.
“I try to do my best, sir.” Vainbane’s tone of voice implied he was a professional who was very humble when his talents were being discussed. Just the opposite of what he truly felt.
“Stand at ease, Lieutenant.” the general waved his hand at Paul and continued speaking to Vainbane. “Captain Hetten tells me that you’ve been recommended for the Medal of Honor, but I haven’t seen any of the paperwork yet.”
“That’s true, sir. I was caught in an ambush and had to fight my way out after all of my men were killed. I ended up killing seven NVA with my K-Bar knife,” Vainbane kept a partial grin on his face as he briefed the general.
“Very good, Lieutenant.” General Pick turned slightly to address Paul. “It must be difficult for a young man like you to have to stay in camp all of the time while your commander sees all the action.” The general was looking deep into Paul’s eyes as he spoke, and added, “You have a very smooth-running operation here.”
Paul slowly glanced over to where Captain Hetten was standing, shadowed by Dryman, and then he looked over at Vainbane. The long pause before answering the general was becoming awkward for the captain. Paul mustered up a wide smile without changing the expression his eyes radiated and spoke, “Yes, sir, I’m really fortunate to have officers of the caliber Captain Hetten and Lieutenant Vainbane represent to teach me the facts of life about 157
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surviving in the
U.S. Army.” He added, “They’re the kinds of leaders you need to have just once to learn how things are really done.”
The general was observing the body language emitting from Paul as he spoke. The two men’s eyes touched gazes with neither man withdrawing.
General Pick had known a lot of fighting men in his thirty-five-year career that spanned three wars. The young lieutenant’s eyes told him that here was a man who had seen too much killing and too much of the darker side of mankind. He knew that he was looking at a battle-scarred warrior. The general broke the stare with a smile spreading over his face. It was as if they had reached an understanding.
Captain Hetten shattered the moment between the two warriors. “Sir, your chopper is ready. Do you want to leave now, or do you want to tour the camp before you go?”
“No, I have to leave very soon. Thanks for the offer of the tour but I have to be back at my headquarters before noon.”
The general had developed a sixth sense during his career that told him there was something about My An that wasn’t jelling as it should. He studied Hetten and saw that the man’s face failed to match his torn jungle fatigues.
The lines weren’t there to show evidence of long combat patrols and the strain of leadership under extreme combat. He thought that if Bourne and Hetten would change uniforms, then things would be right. The sound of the helicopter cranking up broke the general’s thought pattern.
General Pick turned and spoke sharply to his aide, “Let’s go!”
The chopper roared and then changed pitch to a cracking sound as the pilot changed the angle of the rotor blades. General Pick leaned out of the rising aircraft and flipped Paul a slow salute. He liked the lieutenant’s style. The aircraft shot forward as the general leaned over to his aide and shouted above the helicopter’s noise, “Take a note! Lieutenant Bourne . . . Camp A-477 . . . I want to keep an eye on him!”
Captain Hetten whirled around to face Paul the instant the General’s helicopter was out of sight. “Damn you, Bourne!”
Paul sauntered casually over to where Hetten stood shaking with uncontrolled anger. “Yes, sir?”
“Damn you! Who . . . Who in the hell do you think you are! Don’t you realize that you made the general angry! He can make or break anyone in Vietnam! Probably the whole damn army!”
“Angry, sir?” Paul remained extremely calm on the outside. “Why should he be angry? I didn’t tell him anything . . . now that I’ve thought about it, I should have. I mean, lying to a general? . . . shame on you, Captain!”
“God damn you, Lieutenant!” Hetten was gearing up to his tantrum level.
“Get your ass to the TOC! We’re going to have a chat!”
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Lieutenant Vainbane had left in shock as soon as Hetten started into his tirade against Paul. He had never witnessed anything like what was going on before in his military career. Vainbane took up a position near Sergeant Braverman under the mess tent lean-to.
“Hi, Sergeant.” Vainbane’s voice reflected the nervousness he was feeling watching the captain lay into Bourne. The level of the attack was almost sick.
“Does that go on all of the time?”
Braverman kept his eyes on Hetten. “Most of the time when there aren’t any outsiders in camp. You’re having your first real look at your new leader.”
“Why does he do that?”
Braverman half-closed his eyes and looked at the young lieutenant, who in ten years would probably be a replica of Hetten. The sergeant held the lieutenant’s attention for a few seconds before he spoke. “Lieutenant Bourne can outfight, outcommand, and outlead the captain—and Hetten damn well knows it!” Braverman held out his hand and turned his palm from side to side.
“It’s rather basic—Hetten is jealous of Bourne to the point of being neurotic.”
Captain Hetten strutted out of the command bunker and joined Sergeant Braverman and Vainbane. “Well, Lieutenant Bourne is finished!”
Hetten’s voice was marbled with the hate he felt for the junior officer. “I’m going to the C-Team this afternoon. Sergeant Braverman, have a chopper here around 1600 hours to take me. I should return from my meeting with the district chief before 1400 hours. When I get back from the village, I want that damn lieutenant waiting for me at the helipad!” Hetten looked at the new lieutenant. “Vainbane! You’re the new detachment executive officer now!”
Lieutenant Vainbane looked at the captain and tried to smile, but he was wondering if being Hetten’s XO was an honor or one of those positions from which you just couldn’t win.
Braverman tried remaining nonchalant when he spoke to Hetten but his voice broke halfway through his sentence. “You’re coming down awfully hard on the lieutenant, aren’t you, sir?”
“Heavy? That damn lieutenant hasn’t been loyal to me! I should have his ass shot!”
“Loyalty is something that has to be earned. I’ve been around long enough and been through enough wars to know that blind loyalty can get a lot of people killed.” Braverman wasn’t backing off. “The men on this team really think highly of Lieutenant Bourne, and if he leaves it would create a real morale problem.”
“All of you people are mine, damn it! I’m your leader and you will do whatever I say has to be done!” Hetten had transferred his hatred to the senior sergeant, “and I don’t give a damn if you do have the Medal of Honor!” There 159
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was a pause and Hetten added, “It was probably a phony award just to appease the Mexicans . . .”
Hetten’s words cut through Braverman like laser beams of hot light. He was half Mexican and very proud of his south-Texas upbringing in a poor but loving family.
Braverman had been pushed too far. “Sir, I’ve been in the army twenty-four years, and I have never even seen an officer with morals and a code of ethics as low as yours. I’ve put up with your self-centered horseshit for the past two months, and I did that only because I am a professional soldier and had faith in whoever allowed you to be appointed as an officer.” Braverman pointed his finger at the awestruck captain. “But listen to me, if you hurt that lieutenant in any way . . . I . . . me . . . Braverman . . . the Mexican . . . am going to get your ass!”
Captain Hetten was shocked and couldn’t respond to Braverman’s out-burst. Lieutenant Vainbane looked as if he wanted to crawl underneath a sandbag and hide.
“Mu . . . ma . . . mutiny!” The words stuck in Hetten’s throat as he tried forcing them out. “Sergeant! You’ve gone too far! This is mutiny!” Hetten was acting like a trapped animal. “Lieutenant Vainbane! Have three gunboats ready to go to district headquarters in ten minutes!” Hetten refused to look at the sergeant. “I’ll see you when I get back!”
Vainbane ran toward the boat dock, being only too happy to leave the scene.
Sergeant McGrath met Braverman next to the berm.
“Well, Mac, I guess we’re going to have to go ahead and do it . . . and do it quick!”
“I told you we should have greased that bastard a long time ago!”
McGrath pulled a rice weed from between his teeth. “Is he about to do the lieutenant a job?”
“Yes . . . but Hetten has added me to the list.” Braverman looked down at the ground. “If only he would show just one good point!”
“Should I get Sergeant Loau?” McGrath asked.
“Yeah, and bring the AK-47s. Hetten is leaving for district headquarters in a few minutes. We can meet him on the canal.”
“You really want to go through with this?” McGrath was getting a flash of cold feet.
“No . . . not really, but if we don’t kill that bastard, or at least wound him bad enough to be evacuated, he’s going to end up getting us all killed trying to get himself a chest full of medals!”
“Should I have Loau instruct the boat guards?” McGrath turned to leave.
&nbs
p; “That’s a good idea.” Braverman was watching Vainbane ready the boats.
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Sergeant McGrath’s pace increased once he regained some of his confidence in the task; after all, he had killed a lot of VC who were only soldiers like himself trying to do their jobs . . . but Hetten, he deserved death.
Lieutenant Bourne sat in the chair with his feet crossed on a nearby field table. He tapped the edge of the olive-drab table with the end of a grease pencil. A crease appeared on his forehead as he slipped into deep thought.
Paul hated Hetten. The sound of the forty-horsepower Mercury outboards met his ears. Paul got up, went over to the door, and looked out. Lieutenant Vainbane was standing on the short dock untying the ropes that held the three eighteen-foot gunboats to the wooden structure.
“You leaving, sir?” Paul yelled above the sound of the revving engines.
Hetten turned around on the dock and screamed back, “To district! When I get back, you be ready to leave with me to the C-team!”
Paul shrugged his shoulders. So what, he thought. He left the operations bunker and went over toward the mess tent, passing the communications bunker on the way. He could hear the radio call sign for the My An Camp being broadcast by someone who wanted to talk to the new site.
“Rimmed Tire . . . Rimmed Tire . . . Rimmed Tire . . . Crowfoot . . . over.”
Paul paused outside the bunker and waited for the caller to repeat the long call over again. He entered the bunker and looked for McGrath or Sergeant Teeter. The bunker was empty. Paul picked up the handset and answered the call, which turned out to be a radio check. He paused before leaving the bunker and looked around in the storage area for McGrath, but couldn’t find him. The communications sergeant never left the bunker without someone else monitoring the radios for him. Paul stepped back in the doorway until he had a view of the latrine located next to the berm. McGrath wasn’t inside. Paul left the bunker and ran over to where Braverman usually stayed during the day when he wasn’t occupied with camp duties and found him gone. Ro-Den was sitting with the Vietnamese medic against the shady wall of the small dispensary.
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