It was a loose formation, at best, that moved cautiously up the river. Mezey had probably been almost upon them when he feinted upriver before turning back for his attack. There had been a couple of sharp jogs in the river's course at that point. They could have been either farther on or under camouflage at the edge of the bank, but they were certainly gone now. The air was as still as it had been all day, but just a touch of diesel smell lingered.
They had no idea how many boats there were, or how well they were armed. They did not want to fall into another ambush, no matter how little time the VC would have to set it up. So, Mezey had them move at about the same fifteen-knot speed as the Monitor-style battleship. Not a word was said over the radio between the boats. Mezey had called into his headquarters to report VC contact and asked for aircraft on standby in case they caught up to anything worthwhile.
David Charles had spread his charts out on the deck of his boat. He noted they were getting closer to the border, the no-man's area that they weren't supposed to cross. Too often, it served as a hiding place for their enemy. Less" than ten miles ahead was Cambodia. He also noted the river would widen in less than a mile, a good place to fight the VC if they could catch them.
Their enemy had the same idea. They were greeted by two native-style boats as they rounded a bend and entered the wide shallow section of the river. They were shallow craft, motorized vessels moving at a slow pace as if on the way to market. But at approximately two hundred yards, after each had fired initial mortar rounds, their sterns settled back in the water and their engines opened up to full speed. They came directly at the Americans, still firing the mortars inaccurately, but pouring streams of machine-gun fire into the nearest boat.
As the wheel of his own PBR was thrown over, David briefly saw more of the craft going away from them. This attack was intended to slow them just long enough to make good the escape of the main VC force.
The VC boats actually came up to and passed the lead boats in the squadron, raking them with small .arms, their machine guns maintaining fire directly into the PBR's. Only the closest boat could return the fire, for the ones in back were afraid of hitting their friends. Now, the forward PBR's began to concentrate their own .50-calibers. Both of the attackers were zigzagging as best they could, their fire limited to tail gunners as they passed the rear PBR's.
One of them slowed, obviously damaged by the machine-gun fire from half a dozen American boats. At this point the lumbering battleship picked it up with the 20-mm. shells, and the craft began to splinter before their eyes. Smoke lifted from its stern as it lurched sideways, presenting a perfect target. Then flames began to spread across the decks. Its remaining crew leaped over the side through the still intense machine-gun fire, hoping to reach the safety of the shore. Then the guns of both the battleship and the PBR's concentrated on the other. It also had begun to slow down. As the 20-mm. shells again found their mark, a thunderous explosion rocked the river, tearing the VC craft apart, flinging large chunks through the air. When the water settled, nothing remained to indicate that a boat had been there just seconds before.
This second time the squadron wasn't as lucky. The inability to concentrate their fire until the VC were far enough from friendly craft had taken a toll. Two of the boats were rapidly taking on water and two others had been seriously damaged. Personnel casualties required the squadron to bunch up for a moment.
As he came close to Mezey's badly damaged boat, he saw his friend stretched out on the stern, two of his crew hovering over him. David brought his own boat close enough to jump onto the other.
Mezey looked up at him, face contorted with pain. “Damn it, David, they've done just what we didn't want. The main body's heading for the border, and we're licking our wounds.” David knelt beside him, as a corpsman from another craft bandaged both wounded legs. “Take half a dozen boats in the best shape and enough men to handle some extra weapons and go after those mothers. They've got something they're hiding to pull a stunt like that.”
“Right,” David responded, without questioning the orders. “Are you sure you're going to be all right on the way back?” he queried.
“Yeah. I'd love to go, but you're going to have enough problems without a goddamn cripple on your hands. I'll go back with the damaged boats.” He looked at his ragged fleet, the one he had so willingly volunteered only the day before. “Keep the rest a mile or two behind you, along with the battleship. You may need them if you run into any more of this shit.” He grinned up at David. “Remember, this is what you cut those orders for. Get your ass in gear and get out of here.”
It took only minutes to sort out the six least-damaged boats and exchange enough of the weapons and men to make them a more formidable force than they had been previously.
They moved out at high speed, each one cranked up to maximize the twenty-five knots they were designed for. This time David had little opportunity to study his charts or memorize the landmarks for a return trip. Each boat was on its own until they discovered their quarry.
The first item in his plans involved calling headquarters. He asked directly for the Task Force Commander for their region.
“This is Victory Garden One,” the Rear Admiral answered after a short delay. “Go ahead. Over.”
“This is Bugle Boy.” He wasted no words. “Have encountered heavy riverine resistance near the border. Two attacks. Bugle Boy One is returning with damaged craft. XO now in command. Two craft sunk. Two badly damaged. Half a dozen in poor condition. Enemy escaping over water toward border. I believe they are covering for a large force, possibly the heavy troop concentration we were sent out to look for. I am closing with six well-armed PBR's. We have a secondary force of damaged boats and the ASPB is a rear guard. Request airborne assistance. Over.”
“Roger, Bugle Boy. What is your estimated range from the border? Over.”
“Estimate three to five miles. We are moving at flank speed, and it's hard to tell our exact location. Over.”
“This is Victory Garden. Roger your location. We believe the troop concentration may be close to your present location. Do you require the aircraft for your own protection? Over.”
“This is Bugle Boy. Negative. We believe there is a larger force ahead because of the nature of their attacks. If they lead us into it, the airdales can take it from there. Over.”
“This is Victory Garden. We are scrambling Phantoms for you now. Call sign Playboy. Time on station twenty minutes. They will contact you on this channel. However, do not cross the border. Repeat, do not cross the border. We will monitor this channel. Over.”
“This is Bugle Boy. Roger and thank you. Out.”
They were rounding a bend of the river in a ragged formation when the water in front of them belched upward. The lead boat was not with them when they appeared on the other side of the wall of water. It had likely been on top of one of the mines and had simply disappeared. Ahead were the VC, the ones who had detonated the mines strung across the river, and this time they were waiting for the Americans.
As the PBR's came through the wall of water, the VC opened fire from both the boats and the shore. David's boats answered, this time with the increased firepower he had acquired from the other boats. The Communist craft, realizing they were offering too easy a target near the shore, moved out into the river. But it was too late for two of them. Both bazooka and .50-caliber fire ripped into them. They began to smoke.
There was no place for the PBR's to seek cover. The smaller VC boats were moving across the river. “Take them head to head,” David shouted to his boats over the radio, and the little PBR's maintained their twenty-five-knot speed right into the middle of the enemy.
At this point, David realized that the fire from the shoreline had been heavier than from the boats. They must have been offloading troops, probably the ones that had ambushed them downriver. The fire from shore could not keep up with the speeding boats, and was minimal once David's PBR's were among the enemy. The VC craft were not as fast or as ma
neuverable as the PBR's. The latter boats had the advantage of speed and firepower as they swept by. Reversing their direction, they made a second run on the VC boats, only two of which now showed much fight. The others were aimlessly floating in the middle of the river, abandoned by their crews. One of the remainder took two bazooka hits simultaneously, drifting toward the shore. With all the fire now concentrated on the remaining boat, it was literally lifted out of the water.
David's five remaining boats had been raked continuously by small-arms fire but none of the heavier weapons from shore had touched them. With only superficial damage, they were still fully operable, and he turned his attention to the sporadic fire from shore. They're going to disappear again, he thought. He picked up the mike, calling to his meager force, “I'm going in to shore to see where they're off to now. Number four boat come with me. The rest of you cruise offshore, covering us. You're going to see a bunch of Phantoms coming in low soon, and that's when we can all relax.”
They beached their craft right where the VC boats had pulled out from the shoreline to stop them. It was just like Mezey had said about his previous trip ashore that day. Not a soul remained. Spent shell casings gave evidence of weapons having been fired. There had obviously been many people there at one time, yet they had disappeared as if by magic.
Then, on the opposite side of the huge clearing they had entered, he saw the vehicle tracks, many of them. Since there were few roads through the jungle, the VC used trucks and other large vehicles only when they were carrying heavy equipment. The docking area they had landed at indicated it was well used, probably to land men and supplies. This must be the staging area the generals and admirals had been hoping for. He heard the roar of the jet planes at the same time the first call came over the radio, “Bugle Boy, Bugle Boy, this is Playboy. Do you read me. Over.”
“This is Bugle Boy. Welcome. Over.”
“This is Playboy. Request your coordinates. Over.”
David studied the chart he pulled from his pocket. He found it hard to convince himself that they weren't already in Cambodia. “This is Bugle Boy. You are passing directly over me now. Can you see anything to the west of this location. Over.”
There was silence on the circuit for a moment as the five Phantoms swooped low over the jungle not too far from where the staging area existed. “Wow! I have trucks, artillery, and. many troops in sight. Bugle Boy, what are your coordinates? It looks to us like we've got a problem. They're in another country, my friend. Over.”
“Playboy, Playboy, you are cutting out on this circuit. Switch to channel seventeen. Out.” And the circuit was suddenly dead. He had to take the chance. He knew that headquarters would be listening on that circuit, or at least they could hear the talking from the Phantoms' end.
He had the coordinates he wanted as he attempted to regain contact with the Phantom squadron leader. “Playboy, this is Bugle Boy. How do you read me now? Over.”
“This is Playboy. You're loud and clear. You can bet that Victory Garden is going to be unhappy about not being in on this conversation. They want to make sure we were playing by the rules. Over.”
“Roger, Playboy. I understand. I have our location now.” And he had bought the time to give them the coordinates that would have placed them about three miles to the east. Now, he didn't care if Victory Garden had also switched to channel 17. “You're safe to make your runs, now. And give it to them good. They tore apart our squadron, and we'd like them to know how it feels. Over.”
“Roger, Bugle Boy. We are commencing our first run now. And I also think you're lost, but I never saw such a great target. We were told to follow your orders. We thank you for your assistance. Out.”
They could see nothing through the jungle that surrounded them, but as they returned to their boats they could hear the multiple explosions well above the roar of the mighty jet engines. As the five boats slowly pulled out onto the brown water they were greeted with an earthshaking explosion in the distance. It was followed by billowing clouds of black smoke, then Continuous, thundering explosions.
After the Phantoms had made the last of many runs at the unseen target, and were climbing for their return home, the same voice came back on channel 17 again, “Bugle Boy, this is Playboy. We thank you. That goes down in the books as one of our best targets. That lovely cloud of smoke you see probably represents both a fuel and an ammo dump. They were up to something big. Hope you see it when our film is developed. Have a safe trip home. Out.”
The court of inquiry was said to be an informal one, but David noticed there were more stars than he had seen in one room in Vietnam for a long time. The reason for the announced informality was to make sure none of the correspondents appeared. The less they knew about the purpose of the inquiry, the better for all involved as far as the Navy was concerned.
The films taken from the Phantoms had shown not only the largest staging area they had come upon in a long time, but they also confirmed the fact that it was in Cambodia. The inquiry was to determine how such an error could have been made. It centered on Lieutenant David Charles, who had called for the air strike after inflicting heavy casualties on what apparently had been an effective water route for one of the largest VC forces in the area. The five petty officers in charge of David's remaining boats each indicated that their acting commanding officer had checked his charts earlier but had no time afterward to pinpoint his location because of severe enemy fire. As a matter of fact, they stated, only by his taking the enemy under fire at full speed and sinking the remainder of their riverine force, had they been able to pinpoint the location of the VC forces that were finally destroyed.
The findings of the court of inquiry were not made public. However, for the sake of form, the court found Lieutenant Charles guilty of negligence in going over the border. On the other hand, they recommended only an official reprimand be placed in his service record since his personal efforts were responsible for destroying an exceptionally large enemy force. They further decided among themselves that the Admiral also ensure that a commendation be placed in his service jacket for individual initiative. They felt that they could not award him a medal since that could become public acknowledgement. Lieutenant Commander Mezey received the Silver Star, the five petty officers each were awarded the Navy Cross, their crews the Navy and Marine Corps medal, and the entire squadron received a unit citation. The final recommendation was that Lieutenant Charles be transferred back to the States. They intended to make it as difficult as possible for the press to learn about his special day in Vietnam.
Lieutenant Charles was sent to Treasure Island on temporary duty to await orders to his next billet. Upon arriving in San Francisco, he got in touch with his old friend at Supers and asked if they could arrange to send him to Monterey to Russian language school. Ken Kehs was glad to cooperate, especially since the stories had already reached Washington. The senior officers were more than happy to have the young man in Monterey, a quiet, out-of-the-way place where he would be far away from the cocktail circuit stories of his Cambodian escapade.
Captain Kehs was also happy to inform him that a special board had recommended him for lieutenant commander, an early promotion.
At his wetting-down party at the Officers Club, he also met Maria Springer, whose husband had never returned to his carrier from a mission over Hanoi. The other pilots in his Phantom squadron reported.that a missile had sheared off his left wing. No parachute had been seen. He was declared officially dead, and Maria had said to herself that she would never again go out with a military man. But the Navy takes care of its own, and her friends had stayed close to her. They wanted her to get out and socialize.
She hadn't intended to go to anyone's wetting-down party, especially with the noise coming from that lounge. But one of the people in her group had been a classmate of David's and insisted they should join the party. Before they had gone in, the friend had told everyone of the rumors that were preceding the young man. The next thing she knew she was being introduced
to the officer who had supposedly performed the daring feats. She wanted to hear nothing of Vietnam and found that he had nothing to say about it.
She assumed he must be quite drunk at his own party, and she made a point of not smiling. The new Lieutenant Commander Charles was having a good time, but he was not too drunk to look twice at the pretty girl he was introduced to. She was quite tall for a woman, probably only two inches shorter than he was, but he reasoned that he was fairly short for a man. Her figure was obviously full, even with the conservative clothes she still chose to wear, and her high cheekbones and green eyes were set off by long dark hair.
David decided she would be even more attractive when she smiled. Having had enough to drink to remember old jokes that could be told in front of women, he finally made her laugh and found that he was absolutely right. Her green eyes sparkled when she decided he wasn't so bad after all, and crinkled around the edges, staying that way even after she had stopped laughing. She accepted' the drink she had at first refused. She also found his conversation interesting, even when she realized he had adeptly sidestepped her polite questions about him and had her talking about her own Midwestern background. Maria stayed until the party broke up and then accepted a ride home.
David Charles called her the next day and asked her to dinner, and that was the beginning of her new life. In less than a month, even before he was scheduled to arrive in Monterey, he had asked her to marry him. After arguments with herself about propriety and another Navy husband, she agreed, and the Navy allowed him to take an extra few days for a honeymoon. They had both begun a new life that neither had been looking for.
FROM THE LOG OF ADMIRAL DAVID CHARLES
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