Drowning in Her Eyes (35 page)

Jack received a month
's leave when he returned from Vietnam. This was good news for Helen, but the bad news would be the deployment of
Eleventh
Battalion RAR to Vung Tau when his leave was up. He went immediately to the thinking place when he returned. Ollie, who now realised the significance of this place to Jack, had constructed a small fire ring of discarded bricks for him and made sure there was always a supply o
f wood. The old Land Rover
his father had bought in 1956 was still kept in good condition and ready at a moment
's notice, for he always drove it to the thinking place.

He gazed into the fire, but tonight the visions would not come. He looked at the stars in their billions and wished on every one of them that he would find her,
and
find her soon, because his need grew every day. In a few weeks, he would be at risk again. Not a fact finding
mission and an Officer
's Club full of fine food and drink, but a six
-
month tour of combat duty, with thousands of VC and NVA soldiers determined to kill him.

He returned to the fire. Now they came, the visions, Susan and her wide brown eyes, Susan in his college room, Susan at
Ballinrobe
the night of conception. Tonight those images were more ephemeral than ever. Then
she
came, a little girl, in a white dress. The wind cried in the trees,
“Daddy, Daddy.
” He wept uncontrollably, tears running down his cheeks. He reached for her, but as quickly as she had come, she faded away.
“My baby
,
my baby,
” he cried.

Sam whimpered and pushed her nose into his midriff. Jack stilled her with a hand on her head. The images changed. There was the face of the dead Marine, Karl, hatred in his eyes. There was jungle. Could that be VC looking at him? Yes, but they were all dead, grinning skulls. Then a young soldier, vaguely familiar, covered with blood, then falling, falling, and fire. The images faded away. He wept for his Susan and their baby.

The fire had died down
.
He stirred it again and added some more wood. The flames flickered, rose higher, and there she was, Susan, holding a little girl in a white dress. She was smiling, not a trace of tears or sadness. A sharp breeze ruffled the trees. He heard her sweet, soft voice.
‘My darling
', she said,
‘it will not be long now. Soon we will be together forever
'.

Somewhere in the night a curlew called, its mournful sound bringing an involuntary shiver to Jack
's shoulders as though it was a harbinger of some dread to come.

After Jack left at the end of his leave,
Sam began visiting the thinking place by herself, lying in the shade of the trees and watching the fire
p
it
. From time to time, she would prick up her ears; sometimes she would begin to whimper, sometimes she growled. Then, after a while, she would settle down to watch again.

Phuoc Tuy Province, South Vietnam
—1967

The jungle was never quiet, infused with the sounds of the night, insects, small scurrying animals, distant gunfire. Corporal Andy McGuire and Private Ron Whyte huddled together in the shallow scrape they had dug. They had been here for about six hours now, lying in ambush.

Unlike the Americans, the Australians did not trust the trails through the jungle. They were too easy to use. They could be ambushed, mined, and booby-
trapped. Using them gave Charlie too much information and too much time to prepare his own ambush.

Since Long Tan, Charlie had been reluctant to take on the Australians in any kind of fixed engagement. These men knew how to fight and they were very good at it. Charlie preferred a quick ambush, a few bursts of fire, a few grenades, and then to hightail it before his targets could mount any kind of effective action. The Australians aimed to dominate their territory by aggressive patrolling. Just as their fathers had denied Rommel at Tobruk, and their grandfathers had terrorised the Germans on the west
ern front in 1917, Eleventh
Battalion, RAR, did the same. There were always patrols out, some in section strength, some in company strength, and some, as on this night, in platoon strength. It was never safe to move through their territory, day or night. The Aussies were playing Charlie at his own game.

These men, of 2 Platoon, A Company, 11/RAR, had been doing this for almost three months now. Some of their patrols went out for ten or more days at a time, completely self-
contained, moving quietly through the jungle, wading through swamps chest deep, always on the lookout and not just for Charlie, for these forests and swamps had an impressive assortment of poisonous snakes, centipedes, and scorpions. They left no evidence of their passage; all refuse and excrement buried, no one smoked, there was no idle chat. They communicated almost entirely by hand signals.

This night, their patience was being tested. Their scouts had picked up a trail late yesterday. They had set up a perimeter and spent the night, waiting for dawn so they could follow. Charlie was good, but he could not always cover his tracks. This one contained some distinctive boot prints and sharp-
eyed scouts had even spied a few grains of rice, so this was more than likely a supply party, a valuable target. Two Platoon had cut across country to intercept, but so far, they had had no luck. Andy McGuire was feeling frustrated.
Let
's get this over
, he thought. We
're due for a five-
day leave when we get back in.
C
'mon you little yellow bastards, where are you?

There was a very faint lightening of the gloom in the east. Dawn was coming. If Charlie
didn
'
t
show up soon they
'
d have to break cover and start on their homeward leg. Then Ron placed a hand on Andy
's arm, put a finger to his lips, and held a hand to his ear. He pointed to his left front. Now Andy could hear something, a sibilant rustle of vegetation. The bastards were coming! Andy tugged the cod line connecting him to the next position where his section
's gun group crouched. The gunner looked at him as he indicated the direction of the enemy, nodded and passed on the signal. Then he hauled the bipod of his M60 around to get the best field of fire and snuggled down on the gun, eyes on his sights. Movement! Andy could see shadowy forms flitting across his line of sight. The Looey would have received the signal by now; he would give the order to open fire. He waited
… waited
… waited
… waited
… then
“FIRE.
”

Two of the M60s and about twenty-
five rifles opened up, the rifles with their
“Thwack
…thwack of aimed and controlled fire. The M60s spewed hundreds of rounds in short bursts. Then grenades began to explode. That would be Mario with his M79. The jungle lit up with the combined muzzle flashes and the light grew murky with cordite. There was a flash as a rocket propelled grenade fizzed past, exploding as it hit a tree. Then, as quickly as it had started, the gunfire ceased. There was a curious afterglow on their retinas. They heard the platoon
s
ergeant call out,
“Stand fast; reload!
”

There was the clink of M60 belts feeding into breeches, the clicks of rifle magazines, and cocking handles ratcheting, then silence. They waited five minutes
,
then the Looey said,
“Right, let
's see what we
've got here. Andy and Ronnie, move forward. Eyes open now. Prepare to give covering fire.
”

Andy and Ronnie pushed carefully forward. There was enough light to see by now. They spotted several black clad figures lying still.
“All quiet here, boss,
” called Ronnie.
“Ok,
” said the Looey,
“3 Section move through 1 and 2 and advance.
” There was no need for covering fire. Two men moved to left and right for about
one hundred
yards parallel to the direction the VC had been moving, to keep lookout. They needed no orders for that; this was a well-
trained platoon. Lt. Jack Riordan looked at the destruction his platoon had dealt out. There were twelve dead VC; blood trails led them to a further two, badly wounded. They piled the bags of rice in a clearing, slashed them open and buried the spilt grain, mixing it thoroughly with the earth to make it unfit to eat.

There were two Australian wounded. One had some RPG fragments in his shoulder and back, but was not badly hurt. The other was more serious. A bullet had pierced his upper thigh, creasing bone and causing a large exit wound. He was lucky. His femoral artery was undamaged. The medic slapped a field dressing on the wound. They made an improvised stretcher and looked for a place where a helicopter could land.

“2 section, go back and fetch those VC,
” said Jack, there
'll be room on the chopper for them.
” Soon a medivac chopper clattered down towards their yellow smoke and flared out. They loaded the two prisoners and the wounded. The crew chief called Jack over.
“Your
s
kipper wants you back as soon as possible, sir. You are to hand over to your
s
ergeant and catch a ride with us.
”

The rest of 2 Platoon watched the helicopter climb away.
“Lucky bastards,
” said one of the men.
“They
'll be in clean sheets and fondling the nurses in half an hour.
”

Corporal McGuire looked thoughtful.
“I hope they
're not going to pinch our Looey,
” he said,
“We
'll never get a better one than him.
” All his men nodded agreement, but they were destined to be disappointed.
“Ok
ay
, boys,
” said the
s
ergeant,
“Let
's move. Bluey, take point, 3 section lead, 2 section, arse end Charlie.
”

* * *
*

Major Forbes was seriously pissed off. They were going to take away his best young officer. Good platoon leaders were hard to find. The boys coming out of the National Service OTU at Schyeville did not lack courage or knowledge. They lacked man management skills and maturity. Riordan had come up through the ranks; he knew how to get the best out of his men. Who would have thought it? His best platoon leader starting as a private, and a reservist at that.

Riordan pulled aside the tent flap and entered the Company HQ.
“Skipper wants to see me, Rod
,
”
he said to the CSM.

“Yep, he
's waiting. Go right in.
” Jack had come straight from the hospital after seeing his men treated. He still wore his webbing
,
carried his rifle, and was filthy and stinking from ten days in the field. Major Forbes looked at him, thinking,
why do those HQ pricks always take my best men?

“Jack,
” he said,
“We
're losing you.
” He pushed a signal form across the canvas table.
“You have been promoted to Captain and mentioned in dispatches. Congratulations. Take five days leave and report to the big boss in Nui Dat. Good luck, son, we will miss you.
” Jack made his goodbyes and got a lift to the airfield, where he cadged a ride in a US Army Iroquois to Saigon. There, he got a jeep ride to town and found a hotel room. He showered, shaved, and fell into a deep sleep. When he awoke, the sun was going down. It was very hot. He had another shower and went out to find a bar.