by Dale A. Dye
“It’s what I’d like to see happen, but let’s get something straight between us. I decided to find you one way or another…dead or alive…a long time ago. I always wished we could have killed you back in 1970, but we blew it. Since then a lot happened—to me and to the country—but I could never forget about Salt and Pepper, what we called you and Clay. You bastards haunted me. Me and some friends of mine started looking into it and found out you might still be alive over here.”
“My ring…”
“Yeah, your ring clinched it, but there were a whole lot of other things, mostly dug out by a very good friend of mine who got killed for investigating the story.”
“Who killed him?”
“A guy who works for your father…a guy I intend to nail personally after I get you back Stateside.”
“My father thinks I’m dead. I saw some newspaper clippings.”
“Maybe he does…or maybe he’s in cahoots with the man I’m after. It’s crossed my mind that he’s gonna be in deep shit the day you turn up alive on his doorstep. Big business honchos like him don’t do well with a son doing hard-time for treason. It’s gonna be one hell of a spectacular trial.”
There was a long silence interrupted sporadically by jungle sounds. There was nothing to see in the clear blue Laotian sky. Willy Pud heard Emory breathing deeply through his nose, each breath released with a soft little whistle. When he finally spoke again, Salt’s voice was barely above a whisper.
“You know, I don’t think I ever really killed anyone, not any Americans.”
“You damn sure looked like a killer when I saw you on that trail.”
“They kept shifting me around so much. First it was a VC unit, and then I was turned over to a North Vietnamese Army unit. There were all kinds of political officers talking to me, and I thought they’d just use me for propaganda, you know? I kept telling them I wanted to make speeches, write essays, that kind of thing…but they had something else in mind.”
“I guess they did.”
“They kept us running with combat units, always pushing us toward the front in contacts. They wanted us to be seen, even if it was just briefly, by the units we were fighting.”
“You got seen, all right. That’s how come the code name Salt and Pepper, you and Clay. Problem was nobody could prove you were real.”
“It wasn’t what I wanted, but there was no way out of it. Clay dug it all the way, but I wanted out of combat.”
“What was Clay’s story?”
“I don’t know a lot. Like I said, he was a very angry man. A black power radical, you know? All he wanted to do was kill white guys with that M-79 he carried.”
“Well, I think you just made a major contribution to the history of the war, Emory. Another rumor was that there was a defector who always carried an M-79. Grunts called him the Phantom Blooper. Nobody knew who he was or if he was even real. Now we know the answer to both questions.”
“Not much turned out the way I planned.”
“It damn sure looks that way, Emory. You wanted to be another Che Guevara. They blew his ass away in Bolivia because he was a waste of space. And they locked your ass up in North Vietnam because they didn’t want a roundeye sharing credit for their big victory.”
Willy Pud stood to walk off some of the painful cramping in his leg muscles. Salt just sat gazing at the surrounding jungle. “Wonder what it’ll be like to get back to the States.”
“Lots of changes, man. Might interest you to know most of us vets didn’t get much of a welcome home either. We came back to a pretty hostile environment. When it was over, we were an embarrassment…a bunch of losers. So most folks ignored us or just considered us damaged goods to be avoided.”
“Looks like we both wasted a lot of years, Pudarski.”
Willy Pud ignored that. He scrambled to assemble what was left of their gear. Off in the distance to the west he heard the familiar clatter of an inbound Huey.
j
One kilometer northwest of the airstrip at Pakwan, Justin Bates Halley was packing gear, ready to move his people south where they’d have a better look at the airstrip—and a handier field of fire. His network of well-paid watchers in Bangkok alerted him that a USAID aircraft had filed a flight plan for the restricted area where he knew Pudarski was delivered and crossed the Mekong. Now they were coming to pick him up. No telling if the man had found Cleveland Herbert Emory over in Vietnam or not, but it didn’t matter at this point. One way or the other they would not live to return to the U.S.
“Bad news, Colonel…” Freddy Carver pulled off the headset of the long-range radio they used to stay in touch with Thai informants. “Our guy says there’s a whole bunch of Thai Special Forces just arrived at the airstrip. Something’s up over there.”
The news shocked Halley. “Could they be just looking for smugglers or something?”
“The Thais are always looking for smugglers,” Breed Toliver chimed in from the other side of their little camp. “But they don’t send fucking Special Forces troops to do that.”
“If you want to know what I think, Colonel…” Carver started packing the radio. “I think we’re busted out here. Those SF troopers are probably here to meet your boy…and that means he’s probably got what he was after.”
“How in the hell would they even know about Pudarski and what he’s doing?”
“Beats me, Colonel. You’re supposed to be handling the intelligence side of this fucking mission.”
Halley was thinking hard and fast about how to handle this turn of events. The plan to ambush Pudarski at the airstrip was now out of the question. He called Carver and Tolliver into a private parlay. “I’m prepared to pay a big bonus for good ideas here. If we can’t hit them at the airstrip, is there another way?”
Toliver gazed up into the clear sky and shrugged. “Seems to me we need to get at the target before the target arrives at the airstrip.”
“We maybe could cross the Mekong and try for an intercept, but we don’t know where he’d cross. There’s a lot of jungle over there on the Laos side.”
“Maybe we don’t need to do that,” Toliver pointed at the sky. “We know from the border patrol reports that a roundeye was picked up by a helicopter, right? And that helo flew him east into Laos. I’m thinking he’d probably use that same ride to get back into Thailand.”
“Which is where all those SF troops are waiting…”
“They ain’t gonna wait long…” Toliver pointed at a pair of M-72 LAWs that they’d brought in case they needed to fight their way out of a border patrol contact. “They’ll give it up and go home if the helicopter never makes it to the airstrip.”
Halley nodded and reached for his map. “Copy that,” he said. “There’s high ground overlooking the airstrip to the north and south. Let’s pack up and move.”
j
Keo was getting better at landing...not good, but better. He kicked the tail-boom toward the east dropped the collective, and plopped the ancient Huey into the clearing with less than the normal amount of screeching stress on the skids. Willy watched from the edge of the treeline as Sarang scrambled out of the troop compartment wiping her tiny hands on a hank of calico rag. She shielded her eyes and scanned the bush, breaking into a broad smile when he stood and waved.
Emory squatted at the base of a nearby tree, staring wide-eyed at the rattling apparition and the mahogany-faced gnome who seemed tentatively in control of it. Willy Pud grabbed him by the shoulder and hauled him to his feet.
“Let’s go. Our ride’s here.”
“Who the hell are these people?” Salt followed him shuffling slowly toward the idling helicopter.
“Don’t sweat it. They’re on the payroll.”
Willy Pud gave Sarang a hug and tossed his ruck inside the Huey. Emory stood by the door, staring wide-eyed at the jury-rigged repairs and the leaky hydraulic lines. Willy Pud gave the pilot a smile and wave and then pulled his prize into the helicopter. He showe
d a thumbs-up, but Keo motioned for him to approach the cockpit.
“Maybe trouble at airstrip, Willy Pud.” Keo had to shout over the roar of the engine and the rotor clatter. “My boys say beaucoup Thai Army there now. Maybe they arrest me and take helicopter.”
“We had a deal, Keo.”
“Deal is deal but this is trouble for me. Maybe I land you close but not at airstrip, OK? Maybe I land same place where I pick you up before.”
Willy Pud gave Keo’s shoulder a squeeze. The guy was a life-saver and a man of his word. He didn’t want to put him in any more jeopardy than they were already facing. And when they walked down onto the airstrip, some Thai Army troops would be a handy welcoming party. None of the legalities would matter much once Terranova arrived and they heard the whole story.
“OK, same place as before no problem. We can walk from there.” Keo twisted on engine power and pulled pitch. As the old Huey shuddered and clawed for altitude while turning west, Willy relaxed for the first time in too long. Sarang was holding one of his hands and Salt was desperately squeezing the other.
j
Former Sergeant First Class Breed Toliver hadn’t fired a LAW since his time as an anti-armor instructor back at Fort Jackson. He got out of that business on a reenlistment incentive and worked his way into the Quartermaster Corps, which turned out to be a much safer and more lucrative pursuit when he wound up in Vietnam. But it was a simple enough weapon to use and deadly effective against helicopters as well as tanks, assuming the shooter could hit his target.
And even if he missed the Huey approaching from the east, Freddy Carver on the other hill opposite the little clearing wouldn’t. The bonus would be paid no matter who fired the fatal shot. And that money would go a long way toward getting his old lady in Bangkok to quit bitching about finances all the time. He turned to get a look at Halley, who was waiting just below his firing site. If that asshole didn’t pay up on demand, he’d never leave Thailand. Toliver would see to that.
As the clatter of the rotor blades got louder, Toliver saw the bird pull into a circle and smiled. He had figured on a wing shot as the helo passed over head but it looked like the pilot was going to land in the clearing. That made things considerably easier. He shouldered the weapon, looking through the little pop-up sight and selected one of the range lines. He’d wait until the helicopter took off with its passengers, and then send his little money-maker right into the heart of the fuselage.
The ratty Huey staggered into the air near Toliver’s perch. He felt for the little rubber-coated trigger switch and shifted position slightly to let the Huey get closer. It was damn near a sitting duck. He couldn’t miss. Breed Toliver saw the helicopter fill the LAW sight, aimed for the cockpit and squeezed the trigger.
They were just 20 feet off the ground when the 77mm LAW rocket roared past the cracked Plexiglas of Keo’s windscreen like a flaming arrow. Keo pulled the collective nearly into his armpit, ramming power to the engine, but it was too much for the old bird. It wheezed and rocked precariously, groaning and shuddering but still rising above the small clearing on the hillside.
In the back, Willy Pud saw the flash and the plume of telltale debris from the rocket launch and grabbed Sarang just before she tumbled out the open door. In the cockpit, Keo was struggling, fighting to say airborne and escape the ambush. He was shaking his head and screaming curses at the madly blinking instrument lights telling him there was no way.
The first shot had been a miss, but there would probably be another shortly. Willy Pud knew Keo would never get out of the trap if he couldn’t lighten ship. He shoved Emory out the door then grabbed his weapon and jumped after him. They landed hard and Willy Pud heard Emory groan in pain as he rolled over grabbing at his bad leg. Willy was in tough shape also with his legs muscles screaming at the impact and his wounded butt pumping blood through the bandages. He ignored it, grabbed Salt and dragged him out from under the shuddering helicopter.
Keo began to gain altitude slowly, with all components of his treasured helicopter screaming in protest. He kicked the rudder pedal and nursed the cyclic to generate a banking turn away from the hill. He was gaining airspeed and flight stability when the second LAW rocket impacted between the Huey’s skids.
Willy Pud saw the helicopter explode in a bright ball of fire, scattering flaming debris all over the jungle. He stared at the empty sky in shock. One second he’d seen the aircraft gain altitude, seen Sarang lean precariously out the door to wave, and then the roar of a second rocket launch killed people he’d come to respect for their guts, enterprise, and tenacity. Somebody needed to pay for that, and that someone was nearby on one of these hills.
He retrieved his rifle and methodically checked it for damage while righteous anger flooded into his heart and settled in his gut. Payback is a medevac. He slammed a fresh round into the chamber of the AUG. Payback is gonna be a bodybag for somebody.
Salt was in pain, holding a swollen knee. It looked like walking was not an option for a while, at least until they had time to assess the damage. Willy Pud helped him to a stand of elephant ears at the base of the hill where he’d be out of immediate sight.
“Did we make it across the border?” Salt was slipping into shock with both of his legs now damaged. He wanted this thing to be over as much as Willy Pud did.
“Yeah, we’re on the Thai side of the Mekong, but somebody wants to keep us from going any farther.”
“Who?”
“That’s what I’m gonna find out,” Willy said. He drew his pistol and handed it to Emory. “You wait here for me. If you see anybody other than me before I get back, use it.”
Willy Pud began to hobble uphill, staring at the funeral pyre of his Laotian friends rising over the jungle. That would draw a border patrol, but he wanted to take care of business before they arrived.
“Freeze, motherfucker!”
Breed Toliver skidded to a halt, crouched, searching for the source of that command. He coiled slightly, bending his knees to spring for cover behind a pile of moss-covered rocks.
“You make that move and it’ll be your last. Drop the rifle!”
Toliver hesitated. Halley was nowhere in sight and there was no sign of Carver approaching from the other hill. They’d show up sometime, but he had to stay alive until that happened. He dropped the M-16 and raised his hands. He heard a rustle to his right and looked to see a figure appear pointing some sort of space-age rifle at him. He was tricked out-like a bandit, cut down to the bare essentials like a genuine bush-beast. Breed Toliver knew the type and understood the danger he was in at the moment as the man picked up his rifle and tossed it into the bush.
“Who the fuck are you, man?”
“I’m the guy you tried to kill, dip-shit. I’m the guy who’s gonna kill you in about a minute if you don’t tell me what I want to know.”
“I’m just working for a guy. The round I fired missed. There’s another man on the other hill…Carver…he’s the one that got the chopper.”
Willy Pud jammed the muzzle of the AUG under Toliver’s chin. “You got ten seconds to tell me who hired you. I count real fucking fast…”
“Halley…used to be a colonel in the Army. He hired a bunch of us in Bangkok.”
“How many is in a bunch?”
“Five guys plus him…they’re all down at the bottom of the hill.”
Stomping hard on Toliver’s instep, Willy Pud swung the stock-heavy weapon and dropped the man with a vertical butt stroke. Willy Pud touched him on the tip of his nose with the rifle’s flash-suppressor. “You get one shot in this game and you had yours. If you come down off this hill or make any kind of noise, I’ll kill you.”
At the base of the hill, Freddy Carver was gathered with the three other mercenaries. Halley was somewhere above them with Breed Toliver. The helicopter was down, and there was bound to be a Thai SF patrol headed their way to investigate.
“We got paid in advance,” Carver said, “and I’m thinkin
g Halley ain’t good for anything more, especially if he’s sitting in a jail playing grab-ass with Breed Toliver. This job is over, dudes. I say we split right now.”
They all agreed it was time to get back to civilization and started gathering their gear. They were lined up ready to follow Carver south away from the airfield when the sniper fired his first round.
The man just behind Carver staggered and fell with a bullet through the neck. The second round was a head shot that dropped the man at the head of their little column. Carver spun and sprayed the bush to his right and left with short bursts of rifle fire. The other man was sprinting away down the trail but he didn’t make it more than three or four steps before a third shot drilled into his back. Carver dropped his weapon and raised his hands.
Willy Pud shifted slightly in the tree where he was sniping and brought the dot of the AUG’s reticle sight onto center mass. None of these guys was Halley, which made them trash that needed to be eliminated. He had no regrets about it. They were all killers for hire. He breathed easily and began to squeeze the trigger when the last man standing dove toward a thick stand of elephant ears and disappeared.
j
“Bonfire, we confirm the helicopter down by ground fire.” The U.S. Army adviser to the Thai Special Forces unit on the border keyed his handset and squinted to spot the Air Force CH-53 Jolly Green Giant helicopter orbiting to the west of his position. “And the little people forward are reporting small arms fire on a hill close to the site.”
“Roger…wait out.” The Air Force major flying copilot in the Jolly Green reached above his bead to switch radio frequencies. “Tarmac, this is Bonfire on station at X-Ray. We have reports of small arms fire on this side of the border. Guys on the ground are guessing it’s your boy, and he’s probably in trouble.”
“Bonfire, Tarmac. Can you confirm that it’s on the Thai side of the border?”
“Most affirm, Tarmac. The action is to the west of the Mekong.”
“Copy all…stand by.”
In the secure communications room of the U.S. Embassy in Bangkok, the Defense Attaché turned to the ambassador who was conferring with the President’s special envoy and a very senior gentleman from the Pentagon. The Presidential Envoy folded his arms and nodded. The attaché got back on the radio.