Devil's Guard- The Complete Series Box Set

by Eric Meyer

  I helped myself to another drink and went to bed down for the night. I hadn’t been sleeping well, my nights were punctuated by flahses of the past few days. Once again it was a long, cold night with only my nightmares for company. Every time I came fully awake I heard the sound of gunfire, the occasional louder report of a mortar or grenade. I imagined each one was being fired at the Cholon district. Sophie, my precious daughter, how could I do something about her? Was there any way I could get her to safety? I’d have to press the military harder to get them to let me through, I fell asleep with that resolution in my mind. In the morning I dressed and joined Paul and Ritter to go over to MACV. Major Willis was just exiting the building, when he saw us he came over.

  “I was about to come and find you, we’ve had some developments. According to one of our informants, a Mr Le Van Dao, we believe we can pinpoint the where our target will be in three days time. Have you met Mr Dao?”

  I remembered him well, with his father he ran one of the biggest smuggling rackets in Vietnam. He was no friend of the Viet Cong, he knew that if they came to power they would shut him down in the blink of an eye. Dao had come with us on a previous mission many years before and had proved himself to be reliable.

  “Yes, we know Dao, he’s ok.”

  “Good. He’s waiting inside for you.”

  Willis showed us into an office where Le Van Dao was waiting, we shook hands warmly. We’d helped him out of a difficult situation and he had returned the favour, which was the way it worked in Vietnam.

  “What have you got for us, Dao?” I asked him.

  “Jurgen, the man you seek, Phuc, is due to attend a strategy meeting with his senior officers, it’s set for three days from now, in the Cu Chi area.”

  “Do you know the exact time and place?”

  He nodded. “Of course, yes, I can supply all of that.”

  “And the price?”

  “Ah,” he said delicately. “I am of course always delighted to assist the military and you and Paul I have always regarded as personal friends, we have been through much together, you and I.”

  “Yes we have. What is the price, Dao?”

  He smiled. “Westerners are always so direct, I always forget despite my American education. There is no price, of course, but I would ask a favour of you.”

  “Dao, for God’s sake, what is the price?” Paul burst out with uncharacteristic frustration.

  I could sympathise with him, Dao’s price was quite likely to get us shot at.

  “I want you to pick up a consignment for me, it should have come overland but with all of this trouble lately,” he spread his hands. “It’s the Viet Cong, they’ve already murdered several of my couriers so I am very anxious that this one gets through. You still have your Cessna flying, I believe.”

  “You’re very well informed, my friend,” I smiled at him.

  “Information keeps me alive in this troubled country, Jurgen. For example, would you like to know the name of the Vietnamese boy who shared a bed with one of your Special Forces colonels last night?”

  That would certainly be playing with fire, I reflected. There were times when it was best not to know and a homosexual or perhaps even paedophile senior officer of the Special Forces could make a very dangerous enemy indeed.

  “No, I do not want to know, Dao, not ever. Where is the consignment to be collected from and where is it going to?”

  “It is to be picked up from Memot and brought back here, to Saigon, discreetly of course.”

  I was startled. “Memot is in Cambodia.”

  “Yes, it is. Fortunately, aircraft do not recognise borders, do they?”

  “But Cambodian fighter aircraft do, my friend.”

  “In that case, it would be best to avoid them.”

  He spread his hands, he’d laid it on the table. Of course we had to take it, I’d avoided Cambodian patrols in the past, it wasn’t too difficult, though potentially very dangerous.

  “Have you any information about my wife, Helene? Do you know her whereabouts?”

  “I am making enquiries, Jurgen. If I hear anything, I will of course let you know.”

  I wondered did he know already and was saving that information for when he needed a big favour in return. Maybe, maybe not, but pressing him wouldn’t help, despite my desperation. Besides, we were going into the area to get Phuc and I hoped that we’d get some leads directly from him. He was the area commander for the Viet Cong, a European doctor tending to a high ranking officer would sure to be known to him. The trick would be asking him before the Special Forces started shooting at him.

  “Ok, we’ll do it, when is the pick up?”

  “Tonight, they’ll have it ready for you. Here are the coordinates for the landing field, they will expect you at about midnight, the field will be cleared and lit ready for you to land. It’s been used before so you won’t have any problems with your Cessna.” He handed me a piece of paper.

  “Paul, are you ok with that?” I asked Schuster.

  “Yes, of course, so we get the information when we arrive back with the parcel, is that right, Dao?”

  “Naturally, I will have everything for you, coordinates, times, everything. I would give it to you now if I had it, but you know how it is.”

  “Yes, of course.”

  We left him and went over to the terminal to file a flight plan to leave that night. We did not, of course, mention that we’d be illegally flying into Cambodian airspace. Then we walked back to the hangar to start preparing the Cessna.

  “But you can’t fly her out tonight,” Emile said emphatically, she’s not ready, not airworthy.”

  “Jesus Christ, Emile, you told me she was undamaged. This is crazy, it could wreck everything.”

  “She is undamaged, but look, she’s got a problem with both the magneto and the starter, we’re not sure yet how to fix it. We were going to deal with it but we’ve been working flat out on the DC-4 to get the airline running again. We thought that was more important.”

  I calmed down. “You’re right, sorry, but we need to fly the Cessna tonight, it’s critical to us. When can you have it ready?”

  He thought for a moment. “Well, if we start now, maybe by the end of tomorrow, Joe could go and source the parts we need in Saigon, yep, about five pm tomorrow.”

  “How about five pm this afternoon, Emile? We have to have that aircraft or we’re sunk.”

  “Why is it so important?”

  “I can’t tell you, I’m sorry. But just believe me, it’s critical.”

  He lost me in deep, technical jargon. I stopped him.

  “Emile, just tell me, yes or no!”

  “I can get you started, but if you stop the engine, or let it cut out, you may never get it going again.”

  “Good man, we can keep it running, we’ll only be on the ground for a minute or two.”

  He gave me a curious look. “So it’s that kind of a job, is it?”

  “Yes, it is. We land at midnight, collect a parcel and straight out again.”

  “Unless the Vietnamese authorities decide differently. Or the VC. I didn’t tell him that the Vietnamese authorities weren’t going to be the problem this time. Neither did I mention Cambodia.”

  “We’ll be fine, just get her running for me, we’ll worry about the rest.”

  He walked away, calling out for Joseph to give him a hand, then mumbling about stupid changes of plan, crazy to risk running on an engine that couldn’t be restarted. Paul smiled.

  “Well, that went well.”

  “Wonderful, he’ll be fine. Let’s go and get some food, we haven’t had breakfast yet.”

  We rummaged in the cupboards in the wrecked hangar. Emile and Joe had rigged up a small camp cooker and we heated some stew over it and ate it with some slices of bread they’d left lying around from the night before. Or the night before that.

  “I think we’d better wander over to the terminal for lunch, Paul said. “Any more food like that and we’ll die of malnutritio
n before we even get airborne tonight.”

  There was a banging on the door and Major Willis stepped into the room. He looked around at the roof, sagging down at a crazy angle. I caught his eye.

  “We’re expecting the builders in at any moment, Major.”

  He smiled. “Did you get anything worthwhile out of Dao?”

  I gave him the gist of our conversation. He looked worried. “So you’re flying into Cambodia tonight? In an aircraft with an engine that can’t be stopped once it’s started?”

  “That’s about it, yes.”

  “It’s crazy, if anything goes wrong the whole mission to the Triangle will be jeopardised. Maybe we could lend you one of our aircraft?”

  Paul and I both laughed. “Sure,” he said, “and tell the whole of the Viet Cong that we’re running a mission on behalf of the U.S. military. And what if the Cambodians see us in a U.S. military aircraft, like one of your Cessna Bird Dogs? That would be a talking point in Washington.”

  “I see what you mean. Ok, I’ll leave it to you guys, good luck.”

  He left us then. We spent the morning checking and cleaning our weapons, we intended to take the two M2s and our personal Colt automatics each. Ritter wandered in and demanded to know why we weren’t taking him, but I told him it would be impossible in the light aircraft with a cargo as well.

  “I could fly the aircraft, I’m better than any of you, you know that.”

  “Ritter, the people we’re meeting know Paul and I quite well, by sight. If they see a stranger, it could cause problems. We want you to keep everything going here in readiness for the Cu Chi mission.”

  I explained that the payment for this pickup was the info we needed to go and get Phuc. There’s one more factor, Ritter. If we hit any problems, I want you to go with them into Cu Chi. You must look out for Helene. Phuc is bound to know where she is, it’s important that no one shoots him before he tells us.”

  He finally nodded. “Ok, I’ll do that, but make sure you’re back, you two. Without us, these Special Forces people are sure to make a mess of it.”

  “I hope not, Ritter. For Helene’s sake.”

  “I’ll keep an eye on them.”

  By late afternoon, Emile and Joe were still sweating and fuming over the ignition circuits of the Cessna.

  “We need a new starter, Jurgen, the magneto is shot too, you shouldn’t be taking her out like this.”

  “Just get her running, Emile, we’ll worry about the rest. Paul, we’d better get the guns stowed.”

  “I’m on it.”

  He went and fetched the two M2s, he also had a wooden case full of ammunition clips. He climbed into the cabin and stowed everything safely.

  “We’re ready to give it a try,” Emile said.

  “Fair enough, we need to leave now so it’s now or never.”

  He was still muttering, bewailing the fact that we shouldn’t be taking such insane risks with his aircraft, but I ignored him. They hooked up an auxiliary power supply and Emile shouted at everyone to stand clear. Then he called for Joe to press the starter. Nothing happened.

  “Try it again, Joe.”

  Nothing.

  “I was afraid of this,” he spluttered, “I’ll have to spin her over by hand. Joe, ignition on, contact!” then he swung the propeller. Nothing.

  “Again, Joe, contact.” He swung again and the engine coughed, then died.

  “Again, contact.” He gave it a hard swing and the engine coughed, hesitated, coughed again, then it burst into life. There were a couple more coughs and splutters before it settled into a gentle idle.

  “Well done, Emile, you too, Joe. Paul, let’s get aboard. We need to get clearance and get moving.”

  I got in first and Paul followed. I put on my headset and called the tower.

  “Cessna N54115, proceed to holding, we’ve got a squadron of Phantoms due in, you’ll need to wait your turn.”

  Damn, we needed to go, and go now, but there was nothing for it but to wait. Five minutes later there was a roaring noise as eight USAF Phantom F4s hit the runway and screamed down to the end, then taxied around to the ramp, it was a beautiful display of precision landing skills. “Cessna N54115, you are cleared to take off, go straight out.”

  I opened the throttle and took off the brake, the Cessna taxied around to the runway. Then I opened her up and we accelerated along the tarmac and took off. We both kept looking around for enemy ground fire, a slow moving, low flying aircraft like this one would make an easy target, but we saw nothing and we climbed to five thousand feet, where we were relatively safe from small arms fire. We set course for the Cambodian border, our route took us over the Iron Triangle and I wondered if Helene was down there somewhere, and safe. But she had to be unharmed, otherwise everything would be for nothing. We didn’t encounter any enemy ground fire and had a peaceful flight eastwards. Darkness fell and we were forced to navigate by dead reckoning, the old method using compass and instruments.

  We crossed the border and worked out that we were nearing Memot, our destination. The lights of the town came into view and we veered south to look for our landing field. Sure enough, it came up on the port side, just where it should have been. Paul had been navigating and it was quite a feat. He shrugged when I complimented him.

  “Just lucky, I guess.”

  But we knew it wasn’t luck, Paul Schuster was fastidious and careful in everything he did, there was little left to chance. He was an ice cool calculator, as well as almost totally fearless. A good man to have at your back, especially in this country. Or at least in Vietnam, we were now in Cambodia I had to remind myself. It would be well not to forget it. I throttled back, dropped flaps and prepared for landing, we dropped nearer to the field, then the wheels bumped and we were down.

  “Remember we can’t turn off the engine,” I said to Paul. He nodded and climbed out of the aircraft. There was a small group of men waiting for us, Vietnamese and Cambodians. One older man walked forward. “You are from Le Van Dao?”

  “Yes, we’ve come for the package.”

  He nodded and beckoned his men. Two came forward carefully carrying a heavy looking package. Paul helped them lift it up into the cabin and I dragged it in and pu it on the back seat. Then he climbed aboard and I throttled up to take off again. I reached the end of the field, swung around and pushed the throttle all the way forward, the Cessna bumped along until we were almost at take off speed. I opened my mouth to make some throwaway comment to Paul when the searchlight came on from the helicopter that had come down on us, its engine noise concealed under the sound of our engine roaring at full speed for take-off. Simultaneously, a voice boomed out at us, they had a loudspeaker system fitted to the helicopter.

  “This is the Royal Cambodian Police. You will not take off, cut your engine and wait for us to land. If you attempt to take off we will open fire.”

  “Not in a million years,” I said as much to myself as to Paul.

  I rotated the aircraft off the field and into the air, keeping the nose down. In front of us was a dark patch that I hoped was a wooded hillside. It offered our best hope of evading the police helicopter. Paul automatically reached forward and switched off all of the lights, cabin and exterior navigation lights. Even the panel light went out in our effort to avoid them.

  A burst of gunfire flew past our nose, tracer punctuating the night with fiery bullets. The helicopter was almost overhead, we could hear it and then we saw it as it moved off to one side, presumably to give their door gunner a good shot. We were heading towards the dark patch but not quickly enough. I kicked on the rudder, put down the nose and flew underneath the helicopter, it wouldn’t make an escape, not yet, but it would stop them shooting at us, until they countered my tactic. We flew on for a few seconds, then the Cambodian pilot caught on and stopped the helicopter in mid air so that we surged forward ahead of it. Paul looked back through the window.

  “He’s turning to bring the gunner to bear.”

  “Right.”

&nbs
p; I pushed the stick further forward and dived for the dark shelter below. There was almost no moonlight, we were skimming the tops of trees that we could barely see, but at least it made us a hard target for the gunner. Then he saw us and another burst of fire probed out towards our Cessna. He almost missed us again, except for a single shot that smashed through the side window, went through the cabin and came out the other side. I jinked the aircraft around the sky, but we were very close to the trees, one touch would be the end. There was only one thing to do, Paul was already cranking the slide on the M2 to put a round into the breach.

  “At least they made us a firing port,” he said grimly.

  Then he pulled the trigger and a shattering noise filled the cabin as he emptied a clip at the nearby helicopter. He must have hit them with some of his shots for the pilot veered away sharply into the night and we saw him retreating high into the sky, away from the annoying shots from Paul’s carbine. But of course, they would be mounting an M60 machine gun, more than a match for our .30 calibre assault rifle. If they could see us.

  “I’m really going to skim the trees, Paul, you’d better hold on.”

  “Right, I’ll stop firing, they’d pinpoint our muzzle flashes.”

  I grunted an acknowledgement and strained to see what I could of the jungle canopy below. We hurtled along, every now and again the aircraft gave a tiny lurch as we touched a small branch, but luckily we didn’t hit any that were large enough to bring us down. And the Cambodian police helicopter lost the scent. The search light probed the sky endlessly, looking for us, but unless they were extremely lucky, we’d made it. I was heading east, away from the obvious route west that they would expect us to take, back to Vietnam. We could make the turn anytime, the trick was to disappear first.

  We travelled on for ten minutes, I estimated we’d gone about twenty five miles, before I found a series of valleys that ran to the west and I swung the aircraft around and followed the course of one of the valleys back towards Vietnam. In the distance, we saw a the lights of a fighter patrolling the border, they’d obviously launched an interceptor of the Royal Cambodian Air Force to look for us and shoot us down, but hidden in the contours of the valley we were invisible to their radar. We crossed back over the border and started the long flight back to Saigon. Paul took over and I dozed in the pilot’s seat. I felt beyond tired, the stress of the airline lossed and the kidnap weighed down on me, I felt stretched almost to breaking point. I grabbed sleep when and where I could get it, in my long experience of soldiering it was the only way. When you awoke, you just kept putting one boot in front of the other, you kept going either until the end, until you or your family were dead, beyond help.