South China Sea wi-8

by Ian Slater

  Crescent-shaped, two-and-a-half-pound claymore mines, each loaded with over six hundred explosive embedded steel balls, were set up in the undergrowth of the triple canopy jungle along one side of the trail. The camouflaged twenty-five-man assault team sat behind the protective sixty-degree arcs of the mines, the assault teams making “damn sure,” as Commander Berry ordered, that each convex side of each claymore embossed with front, toward enemy, was pointing away from the ambush column, each column’s leader in radio link with both security teams at the two ends of the 250-yard stretch of trail.

  If a man defecated, he did so by squatting over a Glad bag — no paper was to be used — and the bag would not be buried, lest it be found and dug up by wild animals, creating the possibility of revealing the column’s presence. The excrement, like everything packed in, would have to be packed out, for if the hoped-for ambush did not happen for either Echo or Foxtrot, USVUN might want to return to the already scouted sites — if Freeman had his way. Because of the radio silence imposed outside their local radio link, neither Echo, Foxtrot, nor Delta columns had any information about the outside world in general, or Freeman in particular.

  The men in Delta column under U.S. Captain Roscoe were waiting in the marsh area around Ban Cong Deng, six miles south-southwest of Dien Bien Phu. Without exception, every one of the thirty-man Special Forces column was covered in leeches sucking the blood out of them. With no smoking allowed, there was no way to burn them off, and the difficulty with using insect repellent was that it had an odor the Khmer Rouge guerrillas could detect amid all the other smells of the fetid swamps.

  * * *

  “Mr. LaSalle,” Freeman said, smiling, pointing at the French correspondent.

  LaSalle was caught off guard, but after an initial “Ah” and a pause to collect himself, he asked, “General, is it true that USVUN Special Forces under your command are now in action against elements of the Khmer Rouge — across the border in Laos?”

  “No, Mr. LaSalle, that’s not true,” Freeman replied. “We’ve been patrolling close to the border, that’s certainly true, but we’re under strict orders from the U.S. State Department and the President not to engage the enemy in Laos, Cambodia, or anywhere else unless such action comes under the explicit conditions of the State Department’s policy of ‘Hot Pursuit.’ “

  “What’s that, General?” yelled another correspondent, an Australian.

  “Policy of hot pursuit, sir, is the policy whereby if American troops are on border patrol — which they are, to protect the USVUN left flank — and are fired upon by Khmer Rouge-led guerrillas, for example, or by anyone else, we are free to pursue the attackers until we establish what we consider a ‘safety margin’ at the border.”

  “How come we haven’t heard about this before, General?”

  Freeman seemed astonished by what he was clearly indicating was the naïveté of the question. “No one’s asked me!” he said.

  There was a smattering of laughter. Pierre LaSalle was waving his hand frantically. Freeman let him wave and took another question from a television reporter. “General, are you denying there are USVUN Special Forces in Laos?”

  “Yes. But if they are there, then they’ve clearly crossed the border because of the increasing concern we have about Khmer Rouge-led forces violating the neutrality and environment of Laos.”

  The assembled correspondents knew well enough what Laotian neutrality was, but this was the first time they’d heard about U.S. military action to help the environment. Freeman answered with such audacity that it even sounded logical to Cline, who knew damn well the general was making it up as he went along.

  “The environment, ladies and gentlemen, as Mr. LaSalle rightly stated in his report for Paris Match, is of prime concern to us all. We, meaning the U.S., committed, in my opinion, a disastrous mistake when we used Agent Orange here during that unhappy war. As well as defoliating large tracts of rain forest and jungle, it killed much other flora and fauna. Now of course we realize the acute dangers to flora and fauna all around the world. In Laos the Khmer Rouge-led guerrillas are stripping—stripping, ladies and gentlemen — by slash and burn the valuable and ancient teak forests to smuggle the teak across the border to sell to Chinese traders who, quite frankly, don’t care how much slash and burn goes on or how much damage is done to these precious virgin forests.”

  The general paused. “By God, I’m proud of any American — and any USVUN member — who is prepared to do battle with these marauders who think they can plunder the rain forests of Southeast Asia. The Chinese are voracious, ladies and gentlemen, voracious in their appetite — offshore as well as inland. The Southeast Asian nations want to share ocean resources, for example, but what does Beijing want? It demands all the resources of the South China Sea. It wants all the resources it can lay its hands on.” He paused, again taking everyone into his gaze. “And quite frankly, ladies and gentlemen, the United States, so long as I’ve got anything to say about it, is not going to stand idly by and let Chinese run rampant over its neighbors’ environmental concerns.”

  There was applause. Then he hit them with what he would later describe to Cline as his “Daisy Cutter,” a fifteen-thousand-pound bomb, the biggest conventional bomb in the world.

  “Another thing, ladies and gentlemen. We now have proof positive that at least two of our MIAs from ‘Nam are in the border areas of Laos. Thank you.” And he was gone.

  Within minutes CNN was beaming Freeman’s press conference all over the world. Within hours MIA groups via Internet throughout the United States were clamoring for the President to authorize General Freeman to follow up all MIA information — to go into Laos, Cambodia, wherever it was necessary. And it was the first time since its inception that Greenpeace worldwide applauded and loudly supported the efforts of a member of the American military to protect the “delicate ecosystems of Southeast Asia from environmental rape!”

  * * *

  “Bruce,” the President asked his aide, Bruce Ellman, “what’s your view on Freeman?”

  “Fire him, Mr. President — as General Jorgensen recommended. And make Jorgensen’s relieving Freeman of command official.”

  “Chiefs?” The President looked around at the Joint Chiefs of Staff. It was a two-two split, Navy and Air Force tending to agree with Ellman, albeit with some reservations, “given the heat of battle.” The Army and Marines, declaring their bias for the man on the ground, argued that perhaps “Douglas has acted somewhat hastily in sending a recon force on the border.”

  “It wasn’t on any border,” Ellman chipped in. “It was a striker force sent over the border into Laos, violating Laotian neutrality.” Ellman paused. “With all due respect, gentlemen, doesn’t anybody remember the uproar when Nixon secretly sent bombers into Cambodia?”

  “He sent them for good reason,” the Army chief said. “To destroy enemy staging areas in what’s supposedly a neutral country. Douglas is doing the same thing. It’s outrageous that Khmer Rouge-led brigands can carry out hit-and-run raids on USVUN’s left flank and can then slip safely across the border in Laos and be untouchable.”

  “He’s violated policy,” Bruce Ellman said. “He’s got to understand that Washington directs this war, not Douglas Freeman. He’s just like MacArthur in Korea — he wanted to go across the Yalu and hit the PLA in their staging areas. We could’ve had an all-out war with China!” It was an uncomfortable choice of analogies for Ellman, as there were still people in Washington who believed the PLA’s staging areas across the Yalu should have been attacked and that had MacArthur done so, he would have won the war. They believed that the U.S. would then have not had to put up with an unsatisfactory armistice — not peace — along the 38th parallel between what was now North and South Korea.

  “Well,” Admiral Reese commented, “at least Jorgensen’s decision to relieve him has only been conveyed to Freeman. It hasn’t been announced publicly yet, even though The New York Times and others are demanding he be fired. You can rescind Jorg
ensen’s order, Mr. President.”

  “And what would that do for Jorgensen?” the President asked rhetorically. “It’d hardly be a measure of confidence in my C in C.”

  “I agree,” Ellman said. “It’s certainly not what chain of command is all about.”

  Up till now CIA Director David Noyer had said nothing, but Ellman’s last heated comment evoked a response.

  “Mr. President,” Noyer began. “As of now, General Jorgensen’s decision to relieve Freeman isn’t public knowledge, and so if you were to rescind the order, you’re not going to cause Jorgensen any great harm. Yes, his professional pride’ll be ruffled a bit, but God knows everyone’s suffered that from time to time. It’s nothing compared to what will happen if the American people perceive that the White House is not responding to a clear and present danger to our boys in Vietnam. And I’m willing to bet that sanctimonious editorials from the Times and others notwithstanding, the public in all the USVUN countries will support Freeman’s decision of making a preemptive strike in Laos — if it in any way gives more protection for their troops in the USVUN force.”

  “Mr. President!” Ellman cut in impatiently. “May I speak my mind?”

  The President swiveled his chair away from his desk to face his aide. “I thought you were, Bruce.”

  “I mean, lay it on the line.”

  “Go on.”

  “Sir, Freeman’s an insubordinate son of a bitch who needs to know, just like MacArthur did, that you’re the supreme commander. Fire him like Truman fired MacArthur.”

  David Noyer shook his head. “Mr. Ellman, you ever seen the ticker-tape parade that MacArthur got in San Francisco and New York after Truman fired him? If it had been an election year then, as it is now, Doug MacArthur could have been elected God Almighty. Anyway, quite apart from that—” With this, Noyer turned back to the President. “—I think Freeman is right, quite apart from trying to protect his left flank. He—”

  “Protect his left flank?” Ellman cut in, looking about at the Joint Chiefs. “I’m no military strategist, but the Laotian border near Dien Bien Phu seems a hell of a long way from the fighting around—” He had forgotten the name momentarily.

  “Loc Binh — Disney Hill,” David Noyer put in. “About 250 miles away.”

  “Well, there you are,” Ellman replied as if the distance had put an end to any argument about an attack on the left flank.

  “I suppose,” the Air Force chief added, “if they carved out an airfield on the Laotian side or at Dien Bien Phu, Freeman’s western forces could be in real trouble. ‘Course, we have the airpower from Enterprise. We could rule the roost.”

  CIA chief Noyer tried not to sound exasperated, but it was an effort. “Gentlemen, you’re thinking like good military men but—” He almost said “Doug Freeman,” but sensed that would be interpreted as first-name bias. “—but Freeman is thinking like a Chinese political officer. He’s not only concerned about an attack on his left flank drawing too many troops away from him later on, he knows that while Dien Bien Phu is 250 miles away from the action around Loc Binh, it’s only 150 miles away from Hanoi.

  “If the probes by the PLA and their bosom buddies, the Khmer Rouge, over the border are successful, go unchallenged, they could come en masse and take Hanoi — just like the Viet Cong took old Saigon. Then we’d be in deep manure. Remember, they won’t come by plane, they’ll march as the NVA and VC did, down the Ho Chi Minh trails and south into old Saigon. And the distance between Freeman’s enemies in Laos and Hanoi is a damn sight less than it was between Hanoi and old Saigon. And no amount of U.S. air superiority will stop them, as we found out in ‘Nam. If Freeman doesn’t make it clear that he won’t tolerate incursions from ‘safe’ havens across the border, we could have a Khmer-guided PLA army around Hanoi in a matter of weeks. Then we would have a two-front war.” Noyer paused, breathed deeply. There was a long silence.

  “And then,” the President said, tapping the blotter thoughtfully with his letter opener, “there’s the problem of the MIAs Freeman mentioned at his press conference.”

  “Only two of them,” Ellman said.

  The President nodded. “I know, but it might as well be the two thousand we have missing. Have you seen the faxes?” He meant the messages sent to the White House asking, demanding, begging the White House to let Freeman cross the border if that’s what it took to find a single MIA.

  “But sir,” Ellman cut in, “from what I’ve heard, these two reported MIAs might have been turncoats.”

  “Perhaps,” the President said, “but there’s always the possibility that they might know about other MIAs — at least, that’s a recurring theme of many of the faxes I’m getting.”

  “Exactly,” Noyer said. “If we’re seen as not doing anything about the MIAs, we look pretty hard and nasty. No matter where they are, we always try to get our people back.”

  “We’re not talking here about one of your ‘company’ men,” Ellman told the CIA chief. “We’re talking about turncoats.”

  “Yes, we are talking about one of the company’s men. His name is — correction, was—Raymond Baker, and he had his throat cut in a flea-bitten hotel in Dalat, in the central highlands, because he was trying to track down a lead to Salt and Pepper Two.”

  “Who the hell are—” the Marine commander began.

  “Salt and Pepper,” the President explained. “Apparently one’s white, the other black.”

  “Oh.. ”

  “Look,” the President said, “I’m going to tell Jorgensen to sit on his order to relieve Freeman — at least for twenty-four hours — before we decide. This will give me time to weigh all the facts.”

  Ellman’s beeper sounded. He immediately clicked it off and excused himself. Two minutes later he was back, telling the President and assembled Chiefs of Staff that Larry King’s producer was on the line. “They want someone to interview about Freeman’s decision to cross over into Laos.”

  No one volunteered.

  The President gave Ellman the nod. “Tell them you’ll do it, Bruce. And before you go on, make sure we’ve monitored public reaction, not only the MIA business, but the public’s reaction to USVUN troops being in Laos, or anything else connected with this business.”

  Noyer was appalled—government by Gallup poll—but he said nothing. Hopefully, most of the public would be for it.

  * * *

  Ellman went to the fax office and started going through the piles of faxes with another aide. He shook his head disgustedly, commenting to the aide, “ ‘Course, Rush Limbaugh’s for it. He’d like Freeman to invade Laos, Cambodia, and Thailand as well. Might as well throw in Singapore and Malaysia while he’s at it too.”

  “What are you going to tell them?” another aide asked. “On the ‘Larry King Show,’ I mean?”

  “I don’t know,” Ellman replied curtly. “That other pile of faxes over there — what are they about?”

  “They’re concerns about deforestation in Southeast Asia, applauding Freeman’s concern about the natural habitat. Greenpeace faxes, most of them.”

  “Greenpeace!” Ellman said in a tone of disgust. “They’re more worried about animals and plants than they are people.” Ellman was still mumbling about Freeman and the “goddamn mess” he’d gotten them all into when more Greenpeace faxes arrived.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR

  One of Echo column’s two-man point security team was armed with a Winchester five-round 1200 riot shotgun, while his partner was sporting a Heckler & Koch MP5K submachine gun, a weapon of choice in the Special Forces, the fully automatic gun set for three-round bursts of 9mm Parabellum.

  Nothing had moved for hours as they, the twenty-five-man attack team behind them, and the rear-end security pair from Foxtrot, waited. If “Audacity, audacity, always audacity” was Freeman’s motto, “Patience, patience, and more patience” would serve the three thirty-man Special Forces columns.

  It had been an especially difficult lesson for some of the American and British
Special Forces, who were more used to urgent rescue and fast, deadly antiterrorist actions. Even so, every man knew that a mistake, a premature move, a bush mistaken for an enemy soldier and fired upon, a fart, a cough, could cost his life and the lives of the other twenty-nine men in his column.

  Approximately three miles to the south beneath the jungle canopy, Foxtrot column also lay in wait, while in the marshy area south of Dien Bien Phu, under Captain Roscoe, Delta column had taken over what high ground there was. Men’s bodies, particularly the chest, were bloodied by leeches and assailed by mosquitoes.

  Of the three columns, it was Delta that craved, prayed, for action, just to be able to move, to deal with the goddamn leeches, to smack a mosquito stone fucking dead.

  The men of Delta were not to be disappointed, for the PLA Airborne Regiment 7885, which meant it had been formed on August 7, 1985, en route to the valley around Dien Bien Phu, were on the red light — all standing, making final checks and adjustments before the jump into the low but heavy gray overcast.

  * * *

  Delta column’s thirty men, unlike the sixty in Echo and Foxtrot, were not strung out on one side of a trail behind a line of trip-wire claymore mines, but instead were dispersed in an oval-shaped perimeter, ten men on either side and five each at the oval’s ends. In this way they could watch forces either way, in the event that the Khmer-led guerrillas or PLA decided to outflank Echo and Foxtrot, now that they’d been told by a bird-dog Cessna message drop that, courtesy of La Prick Pierre LaSalle, the whole world had been alerted to the presence of Freeman’s USVUN Special Forces column in Laos.

  Captain Roscoe, in charge of Delta, not wanting to break radio silence, sent four of his men ahead as runners, two for each column, to alert Echo and Foxtrot that their general, if not specific, position was known to the enemy and that they should return posthaste to Delta.