Devil's Guard- The Complete Series Box Set

by Eric Meyer

  “It’s ok, it’s fine, give me the paperwork, I’ll sign it.”

  He scrawled his signature and then ran back towards the lorry where the rest of his people were sheltering. He was screaming and shouting at them I’d no idea what he was saying as he ran, gesticulating. At the same time a Willys jeep was coming towards us with a mounted Browning M60. The gunner saw the Vietnamese acting strangely, aimed and fired a short burst in one swift, fluid motion. He crumpled to the tarmac, the jeep came to a stop next to us.

  “What the hell was all that about?” the driver asked as the gunner looked curiously at the man he’d just shot. “We thought he was attacking you, are these guys VC?”

  He was looking at the unloading crew, his gunner was covering them with his machine gun.

  “No, they’re just civilians, unloading the aircraft.”

  “No shit? Ok, we brought out a package of documents to take back to Saigon, they’re expecting them at MACV.”

  He passed me a locked metal briefcase. I had to sign for it, then he drove off, neither bothered to glance at the body lying broken and bloody on the tarmac. This was Vietnam, there’d be plenty more. We were climbing back on board the DC-4 when there was a whistling sound and then a huge explosion. The tower had been hit with a rocket, probably an anti tank rocket.

  The communists were known to be using the RPG-7 extensively. The RPG-7 was a portable, shoulder-launched, anti-tank rocket-propelled grenade launcher. It was capable of substantial ranges, over five hundred yards in ideal conditions and was normally used with a high explosive warhead. There was also a fragmentation warhead in use. If that had been employed in the one that hit the tower, there would be no survivors.

  I didn’t need to say anything, Ritter had throttled up, taken off the brakes and was taxiing out to the runway. The tower would not be issuing any take-off or landing clearances today, nor for some considerable time.

  We had a comfortable but sober flight back to Saigon. Although we hadn’t come under attack at Hue, it had been a close thing. The enemy was better and better equipped and the sudden rocket attack had reminded us of how they were becoming more sophisticated. They were becoming more difficult to counter, there were even rumours of North Vietnamese Army units in the South equipped with Soviet built tanks. The war was hotting up, despite the American’s confident predictions of impending victory. Even after more than twenty-five years, I could still remember the strident proclamations of the German High Command while we were fighting and bleeding in the snows of Soviet Russia. Even after Stalingrad they were still trumpeting the invincibility of the Nazi war machine. Then came the French at Dien Bien Phu, the same besieged army, the same optimism in final victory. Now the Americans had Khe Sanh. I thought back to our desperate flight in and out of that beleaguered airstrip, the tarmac constantly under fire. For the Americans, the base had to hold out at all costs. The psychological impact on the French of the fall of Dien Bien Phu, guarded by elite paratroopers and men from the French Foreign Legion was overwhelming. The defeat marked the end of France as a colonial power. Khe Sanh was also guarded by elite troops. Both General Westmoreland and President Johnson knew that the U.S. public would neither tolerate nor accept defeat by a Third World nation such as the Vietnamese communists. Defeat at Khe Sanh was out of the question, they said. As had the Nazis said at Stalingrad and the French at Dien Bien Phu.

  The siege at Khe Sanh was especially difficult because the North Vietnamese Army had established large artillery guns in Laos, which were out-of-range of U.S. artillery at Khe Sanh. It was not unusual for a hundred artillery rounds to fall on the base in a day. Route 9, the main supply route that connected Khe Sanh to the South, had been cut early in the battle. It was clear that although the air operation to resupply was keeping the garrison alive, the road would have to be retaken in order to lift the siege. But in the meantime they needed aircraft to resupply and pilots to fly them. The only sensible and sane way to deal with Khe Sanh, from a civilian perspective, was to stay well away from it.

  We made a safe landing at Tan Son Nhat, the worst of the offensive seemed to be over. All I wanted was to get back to my wife and daughter at the hotel, but it was not to be. They must have been waiting for us to land, a jeep came rolling across the airfield and an MP Sergeant got out.

  “Message from MACV, you are requested to attend for an urgent meeting.”

  We looked at each other. Nothing good ever came out of that kind of summons.

  “Which of us do they want?”

  “The pilots. Everyone that is able to fly.”

  “Ok, give us a chance to clean up and we’ll be right with you, “I said to him.

  “They’re waiting for you now, Sir. I’m ordered to take you straight over there.”

  “Very well.”

  The three of us climbed into his Willys and he roared over to MACV. We walked in and were shown straight into an office, Captain Edwards was there with two obvious Special Forces soldiers, their unconventional uniforms and weapons marking out their trade.

  We refused his invitation to sit down, we’d had a long, tiring flight to and from Hue and wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible.

  “We want you to take another cargo of food back to Hue.” Edwards said. “The Tet offensives have been heavy on our resources, we need to get food to those people urgently.”

  “When do you want us to leave?”

  He looked up at us, there was an odd expression on his face, more to this than he had said.

  “Dawn tomorrow would be fine. These guys will be going with you.”

  Paul walked over and stood in front of him. “What’s the catch, Captain? You haven’t called us over here to discuss shipping a few boxes of food and two passengers back to Hue.”

  I hoped there would be no more complications. Hue was still in uproar, but with reasonable guarantees on the safety of our aircraft, including compensation for any damage, I was fairly confident we could fly in and out again and get back in one piece. But as Paul had said, we weren’t here to discuss the simple transport of food.

  “We want you to collect the other men from these guys’ unit, they’re waiting in Hue,” he said. “Between you and me, they’ve been engaged on a mission for the Phoenix program. We accelerated everything once the communists broke the Tet truce. As you know.”

  Indeed we did, we had recently returned from their mission to terminate the local VC leader.

  “Right, so why are these men coming with us if we’re bringing their unit back, can’t they wait here for us? We went to Hue this morning, Captain, we don’t need an escort.”

  “We don’t want you to bring the unit back here, Mr Schuster.”

  I could feel Ritter stirring behind me. Paul leaned forward. “Exactly where do you want us to take them, Captain?”

  “They have a mission in Khe Sanh, we want you to detour there.”

  He could see our looks of disbelief. I felt it was time to explain the situation at Khe Sanh to him.

  “You’re aware that the only safe way to get in and out of Khe Sanh is with the Fairchild C-123K Provider with the jet assisted take off system. They’re still using C-130s, of course, but they’re taking a beating from the anti aircraft fire. You’re suggesting that we land our DC-4 under fire and take off again, it’s a disaster waiting to happen.”

  “Excuse me, Sir,” one of the soldiers interjected. “I’m Master Sergeant Ed Robbins, this is Specialist First Class Will Blaine.”

  We introduced ourselves. “I know of your record, gentlemen,” Robbins smiled. “Both here in Vietnam and before.”

  I assumed he meant the Second World War. That was a long time ago.

  “As I’m sure you’re aware, our mission is to go behind enemy lines and attack the enemy command and control systems, just as I understand you have just been involved with close to Saigon.”

  I nodded. “Yes, and I’m sure you are aware how futile these missions are, Sergeant. A lot of people get killed, a lot of equipme
nt gets destroyed, and for what?”

  He inclined his head. “Point taken, but what are we supposed to do? Nothing? Do we let these people crap all over us and sit back letting them do it?”

  I reflected that they could always try running South Vietnam in a more efficient and democratic way. If they put the efforts into reforming the political system that they put into fighting the war, they would almost certainly get results. But it was hardly my place to offer advice.

  “Khe Sanh had become critical,” he continued. “Success or failure there could mean victory or defeat in the war, as it did at Dien Bien Phu. If we lose there, we all may as well pack up our bags and get out of Vietnam.”

  I thought about a Vietnam run by the communists and I thought of Soviet Russia, I shivered.

  “But why us to take your people in, it seems crazy when you have more suitable military aircraft.”

  “Because you are a civilian outfit, running in supplies of food, it’s the perfect cover. You know, as well as I do, that everything we do in this country is watched by Viet Cong spies. It’s vital that they don’t know we’re at Khe Sanh. They’re well aware of what my unit does, if they see us arriving there, they’ll be ready for us when we go in. So we’ll just be part of a simple, civilian relief flight carrying food.”

  It made a warped kind of sense. He was quite correct that the communists had people watching and reporting back all over South Vietnam. The flaw was that our aircraft was quite unsuitable for the operation they intended. Quite simply, if Hue was risky enough, Khe Sanh was an aircraft destroyer. But sometimes you have to bow to the inevitable. The military ruled this country as ruthlessly as any dictator. Without putting it into words, everyone in this room knew that to refuse them would be the end of any ambitions in this country.

  “We’ll want guarantees on the aircraft, Captain,” Paul said to him. “We need a signed agreement to cover any and all damage plus, the charter fee up front to cover our expenses.”

  He named a figure that was approximately triple our normal rate for the job. Edwards didn’t even flinch.

  “I’ll have a bank draft drawn up for you straight after this meeting ends, the contracts and insurance guarantees will be ready before you take off.”

  I understood the pressure the Americans were under to achieve victory at Khe Sanh. The communists were openly threatening to drive them into the sea, a defeat at the beleaguered firebase would mean that heads would roll in large numbers. Perhaps Paul should have quadrupled the price, I thought, they were in a mood to agree to anything. There was little else to discuss, for us the job was straightforward, a cargo to Hue with two passengers, unload and take on several more passengers. Then on to Khe Sanh and back to Tan Son Nhat. It was quite simple, unless the communists started shooting at us, and they almost certainly would at Khe Sanh.

  As we walked out of the meeting, I was trying to work out how to explain it to Helene without her going through the roof.

  * * *

  ‘No, I am not going 10,000 miles to help murder kill and burn other people to simply help continue the domination of white slavemasters over dark people the world over. This is the day and age when such evil injustice must come to an end.’

  Cassius Clay

  Thieu was looking more confident they noted, since the Viet Cong assault on Saigon had largely been defeated. The worst of his hysteria had ebbed now that the communists were no longer knocking on the door of the Presidential Palace. The meeting was about to start when a messenger came in and whispered in the President’s ear. He looked around at his advisors.

  “I am informed that there has been more fighting in Cholon, what can you tell me, General Westmoreland? I understood that it was all over, the Viet Cong had been routed and killed.”

  “That information was incorrect, Mr President, there is some limited fighting in that area.”

  “What are you doing to finish it, General? It has gone on long enough, this is the capital of the Republic of South Vietnam, not some backwater collection of mud huts in the delta.”

  Westmoreland felt under pressure from all sides. Public pressure was mounting in the U.S. the scale of draft refusals and dodgers was escalating enormously. The politicians were refusing to back the war and here the President of South Vietnam was almost blaming him for the failure to beat back the communist attacks in Saigon.

  “President Thieu, if you’re unhappy with the progress of defeating the remaining terrorists in Cholon, why not send in your own troops? You certainly have enough to get the job done.”

  They were all open mouthed at the General’s open challenge to Thieu. Everyone knew that the ARVN and the police were deliberately kept on a short leash, serving both as a vehicle to control the Buddhists and to provide officer advancement to Catholics who supported the regime. As a result, their fighting effectiveness was severely limited. How would they fare in the brutal street fighting that was necessary to clear the residential suburb?

  “Are your men then not able to take on the business of defeating these insurgents,” Thieu fired back, neatly evading the question.

  “Mr da Silva, what’s your take on the Cholon business?” the General asked his CIA station chief.

  “Sir, gentlemen, whoever goes in there is going to stir up a hornet's nest. They’ve got nowhere to run, signs are that they’re planning a fight to the death to inflict maximum casualties on our forces.”

  “Your suggestion, Mr da Silva?” Thieu asked him.

  The CIA man exchanged glances with Westmoreland. However they played this, there were going to be casualties and that meant more negative publicity back home, more problems in Congress at a time when the army needed friends. They just couldn’t afford to lose too many more men, it was a simple fact. This was one the ARVN would have to handle.

  “Mr President, we’ve got an ARVN Ranger battalion at the racecourse as well as two of our armoured infantry companies. That area is now secure, I suggest they be directed to begin clearing operations in Cholon, the Rangers to go in backed by the firepower of the infantry and armour.”

  “This will succeed, this operation?” Thieu asked.

  “Yes, Mr President,” Westmoreland answered him. “It’s a simple plan, they should sweep through Cholon and clear out the last of the VCs.”

  “Prime Minister, what do you think?”

  Until now, Nguyen Van Loc had remained silent, he was still stunned by the suddenness and the ferocity of the Viet Cong assault on the capital.

  “What kind of collateral damage do you estimate will be done to the people and their homes and business, using an armoured assault?”

  “For God’s sake, Loc, you know very well there will be a lot of damage, but what is that compared to the necessity of getting rid of the communists? It has to be done, no matter how many peasant shacks get wrecked or shop girls lives lost. Besides, it is the Chinese quarter, most of them are Buddhists.”

  Loc didn’t answer, Thieu took that as agreement, or at least, lack of any coherent argument. “General Vien, do you have anything to add? Are your Rangers up to the job?”

  Cao Van Vien, the Chairman of the South Vietnamese Joint General Staff looked at his President.

  “No, Sir, the Rangers will be proud to sweep out the communists. I agree with you, Sir, a few Buddhists should not stand in the way of us doing our duty.”

  Westmoreland noted that the Chairman was a Catholic, another of Thieu’s appointees. He realised that Thieu was speaking to him. “I’m sorry, Sir, what did you say?”

  “I said to do it, General, get it over with and report to me when all of the enemy are dead. Clear?”

  “Yes, Mr President.”

  “Good. You are all dismissed.”

  They stood up and left. Outside in the hallway, da Silva turned to Westmoreland.

  “You know this is no way to win a war, Sir, don’t you?”

  The soldier nodded. “I do Peer, I do. But where else do we go?”

  CHAPTER 10

  The war a
gainst Vietnam is only the ghastliest manifestation of what I'd call imperial provincialism, which afflicts America's whole culture, aware only of its own history, insensible to everything which isn't part of the local atmosphere.

  Stephen Vizinczey, 1968

  Helene, as expected, went totally crazy. “You cannot be serious, Jurgen? Cu chi, Trang Bang, Hue! Now this! When are you going to stop risking your neck?”

  I shrugged. “We need money, my darling. You’ll need to furnish the new bungalow, we need money for so many things, it all depends on the airline. If that’s the work that needs doing then that’s what we have to do.”

  “If they want a civilian aircraft for this, what’s wrong with Air America?”

  “Because an Air America aircraft means CIA, they may as well land in a B-52, it’s the same thing. American military, or at least, American government.”

  “And what about Sophie, don’t you want her to have a father when she grows up?”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll be there.”

  She shook her head. “Not if you stop a Viet Cong bullet. Jurgen, this has to stop! You’re getting too old and I want us to have a family life. Tell me you’ll stop.”

  She had a point, who knew when the bullet that came towards you was going to strike you between the eyes or miss by a yard? In the end I agreed to curtail my activities after this mission and talk about taking on a younger, fitter pilot to fly some of my missions. I hated doing it, it felt wrong to be passing over responsibility for a crucial part of the operation of the airline, but she did have a point. When she received my solemn promise to deal with it the second I got back she was slightly mollified, but we still spent an uneasy night.

  I awoke in the chilly hour before dawn, quickly showered and dressed. Helene was awake, she watched me dress, then I kissed Sophie goodbye and embraced my wife.

  “I’ll be fine, Ritter is flying the DC-4, Paul will be along too and we’ll have Special Forces with us all the way to Hue and then to Khe Sanh. They’ve laid on a big operation to protect us, especially at Khe Sanh, so there’s nothing to worry about.”