“Call me Yakub.” Youngbloode respected the senior captain.
“I’d rather not … save the friendly shit for your classmates.” The captain stared directly in Youngbloode’s eyes. “Here.” He held out the packet. “It’s complete, including your points of contact at Vandergrift and the Marine frequencies and call signs.”
“Thanks … Hey, it’s not my fault you got an Article 15.” Youngbloode’s feelings had been hurt.
“No, but it is your classmates’ fault, and I’ve learned not to trust any of you.” The gray-haired captain walked away.
Youngbloode shook his head. The officer was bitter. He understood why the man was angry, but he was too bitter and it would destroy him.
“Well, sir … where are we going this time?” The first sergeant had been waiting for him outside the bunker. He had already talked with the brigade sergeant major and knew that the command was going to Khe Sanh.
Youngbloode smiled. “Not out here, Top. Let’s get back to the company.”
RT Bad News was playing a game of tackle football out behind their fighting bunker, using a sandag stuffed with empty sandbags for a football. A recon team from the first platoon had challenged them to a championship game, and the score was close, with the other team six points ahead.
Warner intercepted a pass and tried dodging around a pair of blockers. He ended up flat on his back, looking up into the bright blue sky filled with blinking stars.
“You all right?” Koski pulled him to his feet.
The stars increased and he felt like throwing up. “Fuck! I’ve been clipped!”
“Fuck you, Warner! That was a clean tackle. You just need some weight on your ass!” The sergeant from the challenging team yelled loud enough so everyone could hear him.
“Weight! You want to see some fucking weight against your mouth!” Warner tried jumping on the NCO but Koski caught him in the crook of his arm and held him back. The scene would have been funny if it hadn’t been for the warning look on Koski’s face.
“Break it up!” The company first sergeant stood near the hooches and yelled out across the open area. “The captain wants all recon team leaders over at the orderly room, ASAP!”
Warner relaxed and Koski let him go. They had all been waiting for the orders to filter down to the units. A big operation had been in the rumor mill for weeks and it had finally come.
Arnason left the team and slipped on his shirt before catching up to the NCOs. He figured that it must be a big operation if all the recon team leaders were being called in for the briefing. The first sergeant gave Arnason a serious look when he caught up to them. “That boy has a temper!”
“He’s good in the field and that’s what counts.” Arnason brushed off the first sergeant’s comment.
“I ain’t having some damn private talking to one of my NCOs like that … You’d better tell him to clean it up!”
Arnason nodded and let the issue drop. Warner did have a temper, but he was too good a soldier to lose over NCO politics. The sergeant who Warner had snapped back at hadn’t been out on a mission in over four months and wasn’t respected by very many of the troops.
Koski watched Arnason turn the comer of a hooch with the rest of the NCOs and then turned to Warner. “Come on, let’s get a shower in before they get back. I’ve got a feeling that it’s going to be awhile before we get the chance again.”
“That sounds like a good idea.” Woods pulled a towel off the drying rack behind the bunker and threw it around his neck. He cupped his hands around his mouth and called over to the guard on the next bunker. “Cover us! We’re going over to the quartermaster showers!” The guard waved back. His team owed them a couple of hours.
Sanchez walked next to Woods and kicked up small clouds of red dust with the toes of his boots. “Where do you think they’re going to send the brigade?”
“Who cares … all our missions are basically the same—recon and leave.”
“I got a bad feeling about this one.” Sanchez lowered his voice but Koski and Warner could still hear him.
“Wo-ho! Stop that kind of talk right now!” Warner pulled his black cap down over his eyes and threw a fake punch at Sanchez.
“Say, Woods, I was wondering…” Sanchez’s voice got serious.
“About what?” Woods slowed his stride down a little so Sanchez could catch up to him. The teammates walked four abreast toward the large quartermaster shower unit.
“What did Captain Youngbloode whisper in your ear when the South Vietnamese general gave you that medal?”
Woods’s face turned red. He had hoped no one had seen that exchange at the ceremony.
“Nothing important…”
“Come on, man, you can tell us!” Sanchez nudged his sergeant. He knew it must have been something very personal, because Woods had blushed then too.
“Come on, Sarge!” Warner piped in and started pressuring Woods.
“All right! I’ll tell you guys, but it’s got to stay in the team!” Woods looked at each one of the men and waited until they nodded their agreement before he continued. “He said he was jealous.”
“That’s it?” Sanchez held his hands out, palms up. “That’s it?”
“Yep … but I thought he was acting big about it. I mean, a lot of people get jealous over things but aren’t big enough to say so.” Woods smiled. “I respect him for saying it.”
“Yeah … so do I.” Sanchez gave it some thought and added, “It does take guts to tell someone that you’re jealous of them.”
Warner turned and faced Koski. “See! You big Polack! You’re not man enough to say that you’re jealous of me!”
Koski tried kicking out at the quicker Warner, took a couple of giant steps toward him, and tried again. “I’m going to kick your skinny little ass, that’s what I’m going to do!”
Woods watched his teammates grab ass and smiled; they were good men and one of the best recon teams in Vietnam.
The NCO meeting was short and Arnason was headed back to his fighting bunker with a grim expression locked on his face. He didn’t like what the captain had said, but it made good sense and he was forced to agree with the logic. If he had had his choice, he would not have allowed the operations sergeant to divide his team up.
The laughter preceded the men into the bunker. Arnason sat on one of the wooden ammunition crates sharpening his knife. Koski was the first one to enter the structure and immediately sensed that something heavy was in the air. He saw the grim expression on Arnason’s face and went over to his bunk to put his shaving gear and shampoo away. The bunker became quiet as the team assembled around their leader and waited for him to start briefing them on the upcoming operation.
Arnason looked at each one of their faces before making his opening comment. “I’m not going to try and bullshit any of you. It’s bad.”
Warner sighed.
“First the bad news for RT Bad News: They’re going to break up the team for this mission.” He didn’t wait for any of their comments and went right on to get it over with. “David, you and Sanchez are going to be attached to Sergeant Welburg’s team…”
“Shit!” Sanchez hissed the word out between clenched teeth.
“… They were going to put you with him alone”—Arnason looked from Sanchez over to Woods—“but I told them that David was going along.”
Woods nodded his head in agreement with Arnason’s decision, which made the team leader feel a lot better. He had promised the men that they would never be split up, and he had been forced to go back on his word.
“I don’t have to tell you about Welburg. His reputation is so damn bad that no one wants to work with him, and because he can’t keep a team together longer than a couple of weeks, he hasn’t pulled a real mission in months…”
“The man is fucking incompetent!” Sanchez saw the look on Arnason’s face that said he agreed with his comment and added, “and a fucking alcoholic redneck motherfucker!”
“Easy on the heavy words.” Arna
son agreed with everything Sanchez had said, but the man was still a staff sergeant in the United States Army. “That’s why I convinced the captain to let Woods go with you.”
Arnason spread open his battle map on the small table and adjusted the light so that all the men could see where he was pointing with the tip of his knife. “We’re going to be lined up as observer detachments along the Xe Pong River, which separates Laos from South Vietnam.” Arnason looked up but the team remained very quiet. They didn’t have to be told twice the danger that they were going to be in. “Like I said, this mission is going to be bad news for us. Even the captain realizes that the NVA will see what the brigade is doing when we’re inserted, and kick our asses. He figures that we’ll have between two and four hours after insertion before they start hunting us down. The idea is to locate them and call in artillery and air strikes. The infantry companies are going to be deployed behind us and will tackle the larger NVA units as they appear. Now … and this is between you guys and me!” Arnason tapped the map hard with his knife, leaving a bunch of pinpricks in the pliable plastic cover. His voice took on a very serious tone, and all of the team members looked up from the map to his face. “Our mission is to locate the NVA and try not to engage them with small arms but blow their shit away with artillery and air strikes … I’m the only team leader that agreed with the captain … I think it will work if we don’t lose our cool. The NVA are not fucking invincible in the jungle!” Arnason’s eyes narrowed to tiny slits as he growled out the next sentence, sending shivers down his men’s backs. “We are.”
“Do you think the other teams will stay and call in air strikes?” The question Woods asked was a good one, one that could be asked only in the company he was in.
“No.” Arnason was being honest. “Captain Youngbloode will hold his team in place—”
“He’s going out again?” Warner shook his head, but with respect for the captain.
“Like I said, this is heavy shit. Everyone is assigned to a team that has an infantry MOS.” Arnason huffed and continued, “I don’t know if that’s all good. Anyway, we can rely on three more teams for sure and maybe five in addition to that…” Arnason looked at Woods. “I don’t know what Welburg will do; that’s why I made damn sure he was placed to my northern flank. If anything goes wrong I want you and Sanchez to bust loose and head south to my position, you hear?”
Woods nodded along with Sanchez.
“I tried to get Sanchez switched for Warner, but Welburg didn’t want him.”
“Fuck him!” Warner’s feelings had been hurt.
“He doesn’t know your ability to find your way around the jungle or he would have gobbled your ass up!” The comment by Arnason made Warner feel a lot better. “Anyway, we’ll be about five hundred meters apart, so try and always stay to the south when you guys set up … OK?”
Woods nodded in agreement.
“Camouflage is the key to making it out of this shit-brained operation. I want all of you to use your parachute capes and don’t forget to change the camouflage daily … if we make it out there that long!” Arnason was referring to the special capes he had had made for his team by a tailor in Nha Trang that were fashioned out of an old camouflaged-pattern parachute. He had the tailor sew on hundreds of small elastic cords, where little bunches of fresh vegetation could be inserted that would completely camouflage the wearer of the cape and make him practically invisible. Or the wearer could reverse the cape, keeping the elastic hooks all on the inside, and wear it as he moved slowly through the jungle, remaining camouflaged and at the same time preventing his gear from catching on every vine and twig. Arnason had seen the NVA wearing similar capes and added a little American ingenuity to make them even better. “Also, wear your STABO harnesses…” Arnason shook his head as if he were disagreeing with himself. “Sometimes I don’t think it pays to be too good! We’ve been given the most dangerous positions along the river in the thickest jungle because we are the only team that knows how to STABO extract from a jungle site without an LZ!”
“Fuck!” This time it was Koski expressing his frustration. He didn’t like it when his feet left the ground in a STABO extraction. He preferred walking or running to dangling in the sky from a fifty-foot rope under the belly of a helicopter.
Arnason smiled. “It’s better than getting zapped, Koski!”
The big Pole looked over at him as if he wasn’t too sure what really was worse. He hated it when he lost control and started spinning on the end of a rope. It was undignified for a warrior to throw up.
“That is basically it. The mission is going to be very dangerous but we have trained very hard, and if anyone is going to make it through this mess, it’s going to be RT Bad News!” Arnason looked at Woods. “Welburg wants to meet with you and Sanchez over at his hooch as soon as you can get over there.”
Woods nodded. He didn’t trust himself to speak.
Sergeant Welburg and his two other permanent team members had gone through a full fifth of Jim Beam and were well on their way to finishing off the second bottle when Woods and Sanchez entered through the east end of the sectioned-off hooch. RT SOUTHERN HELLIONS had been painted above the door frame and still looked fresh in the dim light. Since Arnason had given his team a name and had special caps made up, the other NCOs were trying to raise the morale of their men by copying his leadership tactics.
“Lookee here!” Welburg sat cross-legged on his cot with his back leaning up against the wall. “Our support element!”
Welburg’s cronies laughed and passed the bottle between themselves.
“Gi’ Woods a drink! Dammit! Yuh know we’ve got to share things with our fellow teammates!” Welburg tried leaning forward to grab the floating bottle from his troop’s hand and fell off his cot. “Fuck!” He fumbled around, got up on all fours, and then used the steel cot frame to pull himself back up onto the bed. He sighed and closed his eyes.
“Are you going to brief us?” Woods did not even try to conceal the contempt in his voice.
Welburg struggled back up to a sitting position and pointed his finger at Woods. “You listen here, you little motherfucker! I’m the team leader here! Tonight we’re going to party a little bit and relax. Tomorrow morning, I’ll brief the team. Now, if you want to join us for a couple of drinks, that’s fine.” Welburg tried acting tough. “If you don’t want to socialize with us, then you and your little spick friend can go back to your Daddy and meet us at the helipad in the morning.”
Woods saw the briefing packet lying on the floor where Welburg had thrown it when he had returned from the company briefing. “Do you mind if I take that packet with me, seeing that you’re not going to be needing it until morning?”
Welburg thought for a few minutes and then waved for Woods to take it and get out.
Sanchez waited until they were well away from the hooch before risking speech. “That redneck motherfucker!”
Woods just shook his head in response. They were due to fly to LZ Stud at first light and lock in with the Marine Force Recon Teams for briefings at Vandergrift before deploying either late in the day or early morning the day after.
Arnason was waiting for Woods and Sanchez to return. He didn’t need to be told how the briefing with Welburg had gone.
“I got his briefing packet. Sanchez and I are going to go over it and get our gear ready for tomorrow.”
“Fine, let me help you.” Arnason sat down under the Coleman lantern and opened the map. RT Southern Hellions had been assigned the AO just north of RT Bad News, and was the last Army recon team before linkup with the force recon teams.
Warner slipped down from his bunk and stood behind Sanchez, looking over his shoulder. He stared at the map Woods and Arnason had spread out on the table for a couple of minutes and gave Sanchez’s shoulder a hard squeeze before leaving to get back in bed. Three times Warner woke up to hear Arnason and Woods whispering in the dark interior of the bunker.
The three large CH-47 Chinooks left the Camp Holloway bas
e area a few minutes before dawn and flew to the An Khe fire base. The recon company had been assembled and were waiting in three long lines by their helipad. Arnason looked over at Woods and Sanchez standing in the line next to him. Welburg and his two flunkies were sitting on the ground holding their heads. Arnason shook his head and locked eyes with Woods. Welburg still hadn’t briefed his men on the mission and hadn’t even packed his gear.
Woods led the line of men onto the chopper and worked with the crew chief to ensure each one of the men used his seatbelt. Welburg gave him a little trouble but went along with being buckled in after it dawned on the NCO’s still intoxicated mind that the chopper wasn’t going to take off unless he complied.
The pilot brought the large double-rotored helicopter to a hover and waited for the flight leader to take off. Woods glanced over at Welburg and saw the man’s face turning green. The pilot received the word over his headset to fall in behind the lead chopper and he banked sharply to his left and gave the aircraft power. Welburg responded to the maneuver by throwing up all over the deck in front of him. Within seconds, his flunkies were barfing over themselves and the floor. The smell was bad, but the crew chief had placed Welburg in the back of the aircraft as soon as he smelled the NCO’s breath and knew that the man was drunk.
Woods looked over at Sanchez, who started laughing. Welburg tried lifting his head to locate the owner of the voice, but each time he tried focusing his eyes, he threw up again. The aircraft load of recon men looked at the three members of RT Southern Hellions with disgust and pitied Woods and Sanchez for having to go on patrol with them.
Woods wished that Captain Youngbloode was riding with them, but that would be expecting too much. Welburg was a fool, and Woods wasn’t going to let him get Sanchez or himself killed.
Arnason kept looking for Woods’s chopper to unload, and finally the rear tailgate lowered and Welburg came stumbling down the ramp, dragging his pack behind him. He was followed by his two green-faced flunkies and a smiling Woods. Sanchez was laughing hard. Arnason couldn’t help smiling when he saw the vomit covering the fronts of Welburg’s “elite” team. As soon as the rest of the recon company saw what Sanchez was laughing at, they started laughing too. Welburg and his flunkies were infamous for harassing newly assigned men, and a lot of the team members were getting their revenge.
Black Market Page 17