by Scott Ely
They’re going to frag us, Jackson thought, looking off into the trees.
Short-timer ran down the tree and over to Hale’s ruck. The monkey reached his arm under the edge and pulled out a frag. Chattering and screaming, Short-timer ran to Raymond and climbed up on his shoulder.
“Don’t have a pin in it!” someone yelled.
They all scattered. Jackson found cover behind a tree.
Someone had removed the pin from the frag and slipped it under the edge of Hale’s ruck. If Hale had picked up the ruck, the handle would have popped off, and Hale would have died.
Carefully Raymond started to take the frag from Short-timer.
Reynolds was playing his M-16 behind his back, far gone on speed.
Then Raymond had it, his fingers around the handle. Men came out from behind trees.
“Green tape. Who’s got some goddamn green tape?” Hale said.
Hale was so scared he was trembling, and his voice was shrill.
A lieutenant produced a roll from his ruck. While Raymond held the frag, Hale wrapped the tape around the handle.
“What squad slept next to me?” Hale asked a sergeant.
“First squad, Second platoon,” a sergeant said.
“Bring that squad leader to me,” Hale said.
The officers passed the frag around while Hale waited for the squad leader.
“We were fucking lucky,” Jackson said to Labouf.
“Those that don’t have to stay close to dickhead Hale are lucky,” Labouf said.
The squad leader arrived, looking worried. Hale had one of the lieutenants take the man’s rifle from him.
“Who put it there?” Hale asked.
“What?” the squad leader said.
Hale held the frag under the man’s nose.
“You knew it was there,” Hale said. “That’s why you pulled out. Not a goddamn enlisted man within fifty yards of my ruck.”
The squad leader glanced up at the trees.
Hale said, “Look at me, goddammit. You are responsible for your men. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Sir.”
Hale tossed the frag to the squad leader.
“Tie this to your ruck,” Hale said. “You’ll need it when we hit the Holiday Inn. I see you, I want to see that goddamn frag. Sure hope that tape doesn’t wash off in this rain.” Then Hale had the lieutenant gave the man back his rifle, and Hale continued. “Get the fuck out of my sight.”
The squad leader walked off into the trees holding the frag with both hands.
Hale picked up his ruck and gave the order to move out.
“Better forget about doing any more sleeping,” Labouf said. “They’ll try again.”
I’m sick of it, Jackson thought. The dinks trying to kill me. Now I’m going to get blown away when they frag Hale.
Labouf continued, “Hale don’t look like he’s worried. Probably enjoys having his ruck booby-trapped.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Jackson said, swinging his ruck up on his shoulders. “Just shut the fuck up.”
Jackson turned his back on Labouf and walked away.
“You better loosen up,” Jackson heard Labouf say. “The bad shit hasn’t happened yet.”
All morning Reynolds & Raymond shadowed Labouf. They gave up pretending they were pulling flank security and walked beside him, one in front and one behind, ignoring Labouf’s threats. Finally Hale sent them out as scouts again.
The battalion reached a gap, a perfect spot for an ambush. They halted while Hale sent a platoon to scout it. Jackson sat down next to Labouf.
“You got a heavy ruck,” Jackson said, putting his hand on Labouf’s ruck. “I’ll carry a couple of batteries.”
“It’s not heavy,” Labouf said quickly.
“You got no batteries. Got it filled with money,” Jackson said.
“You’re crazy as R&R.”
“Let me see?”
Labouf reached for his rifle.
“Gonna shoot me like I was R&R?” Jackson asked.
Labouf grinned and said, “Fuck it. Help yourself.”
Jackson opened the ruck. Inside were bundles of money wrapped in plastic. Labouf kept glancing from side to side to see if anyone was watching them.
“Close it up,” Labouf said. “Goddamn R&R are probably hiding in the trees.”
“They don’t need to see,” Jackson said. “They know what’s in here. They’ll kill you for it first chance they get.”
Labouf said, “Not those crazies. They’re gonna get blown away scouting for Hale.”
“So far the dinks haven’t been able to kill them,” Jackson said. Then Jackson paused before he continued, “Goddamn, Labouf, why did you bring it? Shit paper is all it’s good for out here.”
“I’m going home with this money,” Labouf said.
“You see any place to buy a plane ticket?” Jackson asked.
Labouf said nothing.
“Sit there and count your fucking money,” Jackson continued as he picked up his ruck. “I hope I’m not around when R&R decide to take it from you. Give it to them. Let them worry about it.”
“I worked hard for this money,” Labouf said. “Took plenty of fucking risks.”
Jackson stood up, “Don’t talk to me about your goddamn money. You don’t care about anything but that money. I’m worried about getting fucking wasted.”
“Tom Light’s not going to let anything happen to you.”
“He’s gone fucking crazy! I don’t even know if he’s out there.”
Jackson stopped, gasping for breath.
“Take it easy,” Labouf said.
Then Jackson walked off up the slope. When he looked back through the trees, he could see Labouf sitting beside his ruck, rifle in hand, staring off into the jungle.
Why didn’t I stay with Light? Jackson thought.
Jackson concentrated on walking, making sure he planted each foot firmly in the rotting leaves before he straightened out a leg beneath the weight of the heavy ruck, one foot in front of the other, over and over. And his mind, numbed by the repetition, slipped into a daydream of walking the night jungle with the starlight, powerful and unafraid.
CHAPTER
22
EVERYONE HAD RUN OUT of rations, and there was no chance of resupply by air because the heavy rain continued, mountains and valleys both covered with thick clouds. Hale promised they were only a day away from the base camp. Jackson was hungry and thought more about food than he did about dying.
“The food is at the Holiday Inn. On the other side of this mountain,” Hale said at a meeting of his commanders. “Dinks have got rice, fish, pigs. Good stuff. Kill them and take it.”
“Sure, easy,” Labouf said. “We been ambushed so many times I’ve stopped counting. How we gonna kill any?”
What was left of the battalion was strung out along the side of a mountain. The enemy kept up pressure against their rear and flanks.
Herding us like a bunch of goddamn cows, Jackson thought.
Hale had a count made and Jackson and Labouf added up the numbers that came in from the platoons. They only had three hundred men left. The rest were dead or wounded so badly they had to be left behind.
“The weather’ll get better. We’ll have air support when we hit the valley. Phantoms, gunships, and choppers for the wounded,” Hale said.
“Won’t see any Phantoms. This fucking rain will never stop,” Labouf said.
Jackson wondered why the men did not mutiny. But if the men refused to go on, the NVA would have a chance to mount an attack against a fixed target. And there was no chance at all of anyone making it back across the mountains with no rations and the NVA waiting at every likely ambush spot. Their only chance was the Holiday Inn and the air support which would come with a break in the weather. Jackson dreamed of choppers dropping down to lift them out of the jungle.
Then the NVA hit the center of the battalion with mortars and an ambush, the fire coming from the slope above them. Jackson and Labou
f were near the front of the column with Hale. They ran to escape the mortars, moving forward and downhill to try to place a bulge in the mountain between themselves and the mortars so it would be much more difficult to bring fire on them.
Jackson stumbled through the trees, wishing he could drop the heavy radio so he could run faster. Rifle fire clipped the twigs and leaves around them, the bullets making little splats as they passed through the thick leaves. Then he lay with Hale and Labouf behind a big rock. Reynolds & Raymond, who were never far from Labouf, were there. Hale started to talk to his company commanders but dropped the handset and sat down with his back against a tree. For a moment Jackson thought Hale had been hit.
“You hit, Sir?” a lieutenant asked.
Hale shook his head.
The lieutenant handed him the handset. Hale pushed it away.
So the lieutenant took over. Charlie was all right but half of Alpha had been cut off.
Another lieutenant and a sergeant appeared. They talked together in a little group, all of them glancing at Hale from time to time.
“Major, two platoons of Alpha are cut off,” a lieutenant explained to Hale. “What do we do? What are your orders.”
“Goddammit tell ’em anything you want. Why do I have to hold the hands of my fucking junior officers?” Hale said.
“They’re dying! Do something!” the lieutenant shouted.
Hale sighed, “There’s nothing I can do.”
“Do you want me to take command of the battalion?” the lieutenant asked.
“Fuck no! This is my fucking battalion!” Hale shouted. Then he continued in a calmer voice, “I’ll command a brigade before I’m through. This battalion’s going to the Holiday Inn.”
Hale got up and after taking a compass bearing walked off into the jungle. They all followed.
“This time it ain’t a couple of squads or a platoon. There’s at least a fucking company of those dinks on this mountain,” Labouf said. “Where’s fucking Light?”
Jackson had been thinking the same thing. Light would not have to kill anyone. He would just have to show up and the NVA would scatter.
You bastard, you better keep my ass covered, Jackson thought.
The lieutenant continued to talk on the radio to the two platoons. Finally he told them that no one was coming to help them, that they would have to fight their way out of the trap on their own.
“Shoot that bastard, Hale!” the voice came out of the handset. “Call in choppers. Get us out of here!”
Then they heard the RTO trying to make contact with a Forward Air Control plane. Suddenly the radio went dead.
“Those platoons didn’t react properly,” Hale said. “We move when the enemy ambushes us. Let themselves get pinned down.”
Jackson wondered if the lieutenant was going to shoot Hale, but instead the man got up and walked off.
“Let us put Short-timer on those dinks,” Raymond said.
Short-timer chattered and turned flips, the bones on his legs almost faded away.
Reynolds held his M-16 like a guitar and pulling the trigger down fired off a whole magazine into the air, dancing and twitching in rhythm to the sound.
“Goddamn, get those fucking crazies out of here,” Hale said. “I want both of you out ahead scouting. I want to know about the next ambush before it happens.”
They were able to break off contact with the NVA, but they all could hear the fire from the two trapped platoons as they walked through the jungle. Now the battalion was under no one’s particular command. The lieutenants asked Hale for orders, but all he would do was give them the compass bearing for the Holiday Inn.
“Fucking idiot. Throwing those men away,” Jackson heard a lieutenant say to a sergeant.
They came to one of the many streams that cut the steep mountainside. It was not deep but flowing fast. Reynolds & Raymond were waiting for them at the bank. They had not crossed. The sounds of Alpha’s firefight, although faint, still reached them.
“Cross over,” Hale said to Reynolds & Raymond.
“Good place for an ambush,” Raymond said.
Hale said, “Get over there, Labouf.”
“Let the crazies go,” Labouf said.
“You, now,” Hale said.
“Well, fuck it,” Labouf said and waded into the stream, his legs spread wide apart to brace himself against the current.
“Easy,” Labouf said turning back to talk to them. “Dinks are still fucking with Alpha.”
Then there was a heavy sound like a car going past on the highway. Labouf was suddenly lifted into the air. He dangled just above the surface of the stream, the heavy clay ball studded with punji stakes sticking into his ruck.
“Jesus, help me!” Labouf shouted.
Labouf had tripped a wire set in the stream, and the ball, which was attached to a rope, had been released.
“Get me down you dickheads!” Labouf screamed.
Everyone laughed, even Hale.
Reynolds & Raymond waded into the steam and helped Labouf out of his ruck. The force of the studded ball had been absorbed by the ruck, and Labouf was unhurt.
They helped him out of the stream, and Jackson checked Labouf’s back. One punji stake had barely broken the skin. A trickle of blood ran down his back, but Labouf was all right. A medic dusted the wound with sulphur powder.
“Hey, leave that ruck alone,” Labouf said to Reynolds & Raymond who were pulling the ruck off the punji stakes.
Labouf started back out into the stream but stopped when Reynolds & Raymond managed to pull the ruck free.
Hale decided he wanted to talk with one of the platoons. But Jackson had trouble making contact, the signal fading.
“Put in a new battery, Jackson,” Hale said.
“Used the last one yesterday,” Jackson said.
“Get one from Labouf,” Hale said.
Labouf was in the stream, struggling with Reynolds & Raymond over the ruck.
“Get those batteries over here,” Hale said.
Labouf fell down in the stream, and Raymond brought the ruck to the bank.
Raymond stuck his hand through one of the holes the punji stakes had torn in the green nylon fabric and pulled out a plastic-wrapped stack of bills. Labouf scrambled out of the stream and, jerking the bills out of Raymond’s hand, stuffed them back into the ruck.
“Look at that fucking money,” a lieutenant said.
Everyone except Hale and Jackson crowded around the ruck.
“Leave it the fuck alone,” Labouf kept saying. “It’s mine, goddammit. It’s mine.”
They pulled all the money out of the ruck.
“Shit, there must be a hundred thousand dollars here,” the medic said.
“Labouf, where are those fucking batteries?” Hale said.
Everyone got quiet.
Labouf said nothing.
“Get Alpha on Labouf’s radio,” Hale said to Jackson. And to Labouf, “You fucking idiot! What’d you do with the batteries?”
Labouf looked up into the treetops.
“Threw ’em away. You goddamn bastard! You’ll go to jail for this,” Hale said.
Hale pointed his carbine at Labouf and said, “I should shoot you myself.”
“You better save your ammo for the dinks,” Labouf said and grinned.
Jackson could not make Labouf s radio work.
Hale said, “Get the battery out of it. Put it in yours.”
Firing started up not far away. An element of Charlie had made contact with the enemy.
“Quick!” Hale said.
Jackson opened the radio. Instead of a battery there were bundles of money. Labouf had even removed the radio itself and filled the aluminum case with money.
“You go find me some batteries,” Hale shouted at Labouf. “Move!”
Labouf ran off into the jungle.
Hale picked up the ruck and threw it into the stream. Money scattered everywhere. They all scrambled for it while Jackson and Hale watched. Everyone got some,
but Reynolds & Raymond retrieved the ruck and got most of it.
“Got the money man’s stash. Gonna buy me a Cadillac back in the world,” Raymond said.
“There are many here among us/Who feel that life is but a joke/Said the joker to the thief,” Reynolds sang.
The firing still continued. Then the mortar squad brought their mortars in on the enemy and the fire stopped.
Labouf returned with two batteries, and Hale was able to talk to his commanders.
Hale had everyone return the money to Labouf. Reynolds & Raymond grumbled but handed it over.
“You’re going to carry this money. Hump it all the way to the Holiday Inn. Maybe the dinks’ll have a big PX where you can spend it,” Hale said. “You and those two crazies are going to be my scouts from now on.”
Labouf did not complain. He seemed happy to have his money back.
They crossed the stream. Far off on the mountain, Jackson could still hear the fire from the two trapped platoons.
Luck been keeping me alive, Jackson thought. Just like Labouf. Nothing but luck. Light on R&R in some fucking lost city.
Then Jackson decided he no longer cared. It did not matter that he was wet and tired and hungry. Now he hated the dinks who had killed so many of them. He wanted to see the Holiday Inn. Run yelling with the other men as they made their assault on the bunkers, waste the dinks. Make them pay.
CHAPTER
23
BY THE TIME IT grew dark the battalion had broken off contact with the NVA. They wandered on the mountain, directed by the lieutenants who conferred with Hale before making any decisions. Occasionally they could hear the distant sound of firing from the two trapped platoons. Instead of stopping for the night, they kept moving. Hale never gave the order, but no one mentioned stopping. Once they reached the valley they had a plan, the details known to everyone from Hale’s briefings. Jackson supposed the plan was the reason they kept moving, that and the chance to be airlifted out of the valley if the weather cleared.
“He’s getting us to a place where the dinks can finish us off,” Labouf said.
Labouf had survived a day with Reynolds & Raymond. He had come in to report to Hale and receive his instructions for the night.
“Maybe it’ll clear and we’ll have air support,” Jackson said.