the Last Run (1987) (28 page)

Wade gathered his team at Russian's position on the hillside. "Thumper, you and Woodpecker watch the front entrance. Russian stays here and watches. Me, Rose, and Preacher will go in from the escape tunnel. Thump, if you hear us firing, back up and wait till they run out. Don't throw any frags in the cave, it might get us. And watch out for them throwing grenades before they come out. If we can't get in or it looks like there's a bunch of 'em, we'll throw in a gas grenade and wait for 'em. If I blow my whistle, everybody comes back here to Russian. Any questions or suggestions?"

The men all shook their heads.

"Okay, let's find us some dinks."

Using his knife, Rose began slowly prying open the wood- and soil-beveled door, which was constructed like a plant bedding box to hold the grass and foliage of the surrounding area. Had they not found the wire, they would never have located the entrance. Preacher held his weapon ready as Rose inched the door back gendy, exposing a small black hole. Wade knew immediately he couldn't go down. The entrance was too small for his shoulders. Rose dropped his pack and pulled out his .45. 'Til go alone."

Preacher shook his head and dropped his pack. "I'll go with you."

Wade tapped Preacher, whispering, "Let him go, it's too tight for two."

The sergeant handed Rose his penlight and buck knife. Rose tossed down his flop-hat and put the penlight in his mouth. He slid the knife under his belt and took one last deep breath of fresh air before lowering himself into the darkness.

Doan TV got to his feet. He could tell the young boy was tired of the conversation and would rather listen to the radio. Ty nodded to the second soldier, who glanced up only momentarily from writing in his notebook. Ty entered the short tunnel to return to the sleeping area. A soldier he'd talked to previously lay in his hammock sleeping. Ty turned around, retraced his steps back into the radio room and entered the tunnel to the third room, where the rice was stored.

Deciding to kill some of the ever-present rats, he lit the kerosene lamp.

Rose reached the tunnel floor and moved forward only three steps before making out a wall direcdy to his front. There was just enough light from the open door above to see that the tunnel made a ninety-degree right turn. Throwing a grenade into the entrance would have been useless. He flicked off the penlight and held his breath as he edged around the corner. Damn! He peered down a twenty-foot corridor, five-feet high and two and a half feet across, that slanted down at a thirty-degree angle. At the end of the corridor was a faint light. Son-of-a-bitch, why do I do this shit, man? Beads of sweat stung his eyes as he moved slowly down the inclined floor, praying there were no hidden traps or snakes. The hard clay walls smelled of musty smoke and damp cloths as he got closer to the end. He could now make out that the tunnel made a turn to the left and that the light was coming from around the bend.

Rose wiped the sweat from his forehead and shut his eyes for a moment to regain his confidence. Grasping the pistol tighter, he began to peer around the corner when a sound made his body turn to stone in rigid fear. It was a faint scampering noise coming in his direction. Suddenly, several large rats scurried around the corner and crashed into the terrified human obstacle. The foot- long furry creatures squealed and fought past his legs, leaving Rose shaking so badly he fell to his knees.

The black soldier hadn't cried out only because he'd almost swallowed the penlight. Suddenly a Vietnamese voice rang out crystal clear from around the corner. The high-pitched voice seemed to be talking into the tunnel.

Rose backed up a step and pulled the knife. He pressed himself against the clay wall, staring at the bend. There was a human shadow dancing on the tunnel wall. The Vietnamese voice spoke again with a small chuckle, then something slapped the wall.

Rose bit down on the penlight and inched closer.

Doan Ty, the master teacher, peered into the tunnel and struck the wall again. He knew he had some of the animals trapped. He picked up a net specifically made for rat catching in the tunnel. The net was loosely fitted between two bamboo poles. He would walk into the small confines holding the poles against the walls, and the rats would run to the escape exit, then stop in a frenzied group. Ty recalled how, in the old days, rats were a source of food when times were bad. He barked into the tunnel once again and picked up the two other pre-positioned objects needed for the hunt, a small stick to beat them with and an old pith helmet fitted with a flashlight. He turned the light on and placed the helmet on his head, then stuck the club in his waist band.

"Rats, you die for the Fatherland," he said with a laugh and entered the tunnel. He pushed the poles against the walls and began walking and singing the Provisional Government's national anthem, the first song he would teach the children:

Liberate our South Vietnam!

Heroic Southerners stand firm!

United we will brave the storm!

To save our land we'll fight to the end

March, march, onward, gun in hand.

Our day is . . .

He only saw a blur before falling backward with a shooting pain in his abdomen.

Rose yanked the knife free from the Vietnamese's stomach as he threw the man back and viciously slashed upward at his throat. Doan Ty tried to scream but only gagged on his own blood.

Rose clapped his hand over the man's mouth and drove the knife deeper into his larnyx until the cartilage crunched. The smell of blood was overpowering as Rose raised up and withdrew the knife. His arms and hands were covered in warm blood that smoked in the dim light as he placed the knife in his belt. Without shaking, he took the pistol from his leg pocket and stepped over the body.

Wade whispered into the hole several times, thinking he had heard something. He sent Preacher down the steps, only to have him come back seconds later whispering, "Rats."

Wade handed the small Indian his 9mm Browning and told him, "Go in just a litde ways and wait."

Preacher took the pistol and walked to the first ninety-degree turn and peered into the tunnel. A flashlight was shining toward him from the floor at the end of the corridor.

Rose entered the room swinging his body left, then right, holding the gun with both bloody hands. The room wall was stacked with bags of rice and wooden boxes. The lamp, almost out of kerosene, began flickering. Rose heard music. He stepped quickly across the room to the connecting tunnel just as the light faded out. The music was coming from just ahead, where there was more light. He slid along the wall and stopped as he caught sight of a small Vietnamese sitting at a desk with his back to him. Rose began to step closer when the man spun around as if to speak. Rose fired. The explosion within the tunnel was earsplitting. The shock wave caused his eyes to bulge in terrific pain. He fell to his knees and shook his head to clear the blur before him. Suddenly the lights went out, leaving him in total darkness. From the left came a flash of light spitting flame combined with a thunderous bloom!

Rose fell to the floor as the clay wall showered him with dirt. Someone was shooting at him. A loud moan only a few feet away starded him. Rose's ears rang, but the sound caused chills to run up his back. Suddenly the moan turned into a scream and a hand touched his head. Rose fired point blank and spun over just as the room filled with more flashes of light and explosions. Bloom! Bloom! Bloom!

Rose screamed out and fired toward the muzzle flashes until the pistol emptied. The radio station concluded its song and a woman spoke softiy. Rose heard rustling and grabbed for another magazine. A small flashlight clicked on, its white spodight shining on the far wall, then swung in his direction.

Rose grasped the magazine just as the light shone in his face, blinding him. Rose shut his eyes, waiting for the bullet, when suddenly a pistol fired behind him. The flashlight clattered to the floor and a body crumpled down on top of it.

Preacher flicked on the old man's helmet light and panned the room.

Rose looked up as the light hit his face. "Sweet Jesus."

"No, it's Black Eagle," said the Indian, kneeling down.

Thumper and Woodpecker sat waiting as the entrance door swung open. A bareheaded Vietnamese popped his head out and then ran up the steps. Woodpecker was about to fire when Thumper pulled the trigger of his .45. The small older soldier was picked up off the ground and flung back into the bamboo. The bullet had blown through his heart, killing him instandy. Woodpecker checked the body as Thumper approached the entrance cautiously.

A voice from within yelled out, "Thumper?"

"Yeah!"

"Did you get him?"

"Yeah."

"We're comin' out."

Childs listened as the speaker box crackled and Sergeant Wade's voice filled the bunker.

"We got four weapons, one is a K-54 pistol. There're about twenty sacks of rice and assorted boxes of medical supplies. It looks like a headquarters of some kind. Over."

Child could hardly contain his pleasure as he pushed the transmit bar. "Roger, Three-one, have good copy. We're sending a platoon from the fourth ASAP to police up all captured equipment. Over."

"Negative. Negative. Hotel Three. We think the four we saw this morning will be coming back. All their equipment and packs are here. We will set up ambush and wait. We're Charlie Mikin'. Over."

Childs smiled faindy and pushed the side bar.

"Roger, Three-one, understand. Will keep support ready for your call. Out."

Childs tossed down the handset and pounded his fist on the table. "Ya done good Wade\ Real good! Hot damn, we killin' them bastards!"

He picked up the other radio handset and took a breath to keep from showing his excitement. "Cloverleaf Three, this is Ranger Hotel Three. Over."

"This is Cloveiieaf Three. Over."

"Be advised Team Three-one has found Victor Charles Headquarters bunker and KIA'd four Victor Charlies at same location and . . ."

Rose was still shaking as Wade sat down beside him.

"You feelin' better now?"

Rose raised his head wearily. "Man, it scared me. I don't dig the dark anyway, poppin' caps was a bummer, and my head is still ringin'."

"Here, this will make you feel better," said Wade, handing Rose the Chinese K-54 pistol, one of the most prized war souvenirs a soldier could receive.

Rose flipped the weapon up nonchalantly and caught it in the other hand. He looked over his shoulder and tossed the weapon to the Indian, who was changing the radio battery.

"Preacher, ya got yourself a pistol. I was wrong about you . . . and thank the Good Lord for me that I was, okay?"

Black Eagle nodded in silence and set the gun down as he continued to change the battery.

Wade leaned closer to Rose. "He's takin' it bad, huh?"

Rose stood and chambered a round in his .45.

"The Indian is all right. He'll get used to it. He shot the mutha dead between the eyes. I think we'd better change his name to War Eagle, man."

Thumper walked up and motioned behind him. "We're all set up, Matt. Not many places to put the Claymores, so we're gonna have to fire them up good, if they come."

Wade snapped his fingers at Black Eagle, whispering, "Let's go, Preacher, we're gettin' in position."

Black Eagle put the pistol in his leg pocket and rose. He followed the sergeant to the right of the bamboo thicket and lay down beside him, readying his rifle. Killing another man had not bothered him as he'd thought it would. The sight of the old man's throat cut and the young boy's head partially blown off had bothered him more. They were no longer people; they looked more like dead animals. They had defecated after losing muscle control and the smell of feces, blood, and gunsmoke permeated the air. He would never forget the smell or their look. Death had left its mark on them-and on him, too. He couldn't explain the feeling; neither could he ever tell anyone, but it was a strange, satisfying experience, killing one man who had tried to kill another. He felt no remorse. The dead soldier had had his chance. But he felt sadness for the others.

Black Eagle ran his hand over the M-16. He knew now what his ancestors had felt when they had ridden away from battle. Their songs of victory and of sadness were the same. Only now did he understand why.

Black Eagle lifted his eyes skyward, praying for the dead and for understanding of his tingling pride from the Great One. Today he'd become a warrior.

Wade didn't notice the sweat trickling down his back as he watched the four men approach up the slope. The team had lain in the sweltering tall grass for two hours, almost exhausting their water supply, when Rose lightly snapped his fingers, signaling the enemy's approach.

Wade readied his rifle, aiming at the fourth soldier, who wore the strange, wide-brimmed hat.

Le Can switched his satchel to his other hand. He was looking forward to reaching The House. Several hours' rest would be just reward for convincing the An Due hamlet chief to send the children to An Chon for schooling. The teacher would be pleased.

The three men in front of him carried their rifles over their shoulders like tired hunters. The medical orderly had exhausted his supply of sulphur and bandages on the open sores and infected wounds of the villagers. His only compensation was a lighter medical bag for the journey home. The lead soldier took the weapon off his shoulder as he approached the bamboo thicket, but he halted abrupdy. There was dried blood on the ground. He began to scream out when his body was thrown backward vio- lendy in an earth-shattering explosion. The medical orderly fell to his stomach, choking in the dust cloud. He coughed up blood and brought his legs up under him to try and stand. Le Can was knocked down, but rolled off the trail just as machine gun fire opened up and stitched the others.