Shock of War (45 page)

There were three grenades inside.

There were several Chinese soldiers still alive nearby, scattered in the field, but Zeus wasn't exactly sure where, and without getting up and drawing their fire—a dubious proposition if they were close—he had no way of finding out. He decided to simply throw the grenades in a spread left to right.

Someone whispered in Chinese on his right. Zeus tried to guess at the words. Was the man calling to a comrade? Or was he talking to someone next to him?

The man whispered again, a little louder.

Zeus groaned in response. The whisperer said something else, a little more urgently.

Zeus didn't answer. The brush nearby rustled—the soldier was crawling toward him, assuming he was a fallen comrade. He was very close—only a few feet away.

The man's face poked through a clump of tall strands of grass. He wore small round glasses barely large enough to cover the whites of his eyes.

He had a pistol in his hand.

He tilted his head, puzzled when he saw Zeus.

Zeus pressed on the trigger of the submachine gun. It flew upward, his one hand not sufficient leverage against the blowback. Several bullets passed into his enemy's forehead.

Caught between surprise and understanding, the man seemed to hover in the air a moment before collapsing, dead.

Zeus dropped the submachine gun and the rifle, and grabbed a grenade. He pulled the pin—it was smoother than he thought—and threw it to his left, arcing it upward as if throwing a long pass downfield. He grabbed a second and did the same.

The pin on the third stuck. He pulled but it wouldn't budge. He tried again, then ducked as the first grenade exploded. Letting go of the grenade, he took hold of the rifle as the second exploded. He rose to his knee and doused the field with the entire contents of the magazine. His fingers fumbled over the unfamiliar weapon as he changed the box. Slamming it home after what seemed hours, he poured on the gunfire, once more running through the magazine.

There was no return fire.

Zeus rose tentatively, looking over the field. He stood, then turned slowly.

“Cha
Å«
!” he called.

“Down!” came a voice. It was Angkor's.

Zeus started to turn toward it, then realized what the warning meant: an armored vehicle was rounding the corner ahead on the left. It was a Type 77-2, a tracked armored personnel carrier.

A missile shot from the ditch where Angkor and Cha
Å«
were hiding. The front of the troop carrier vanished in a cloud of smoke and dust. Zeus stared at it, forgetting for a moment where he was, let alone understanding that the shrapnel from the hit could kill if it reached him. The vehicle slumped behind the cloud, smoke furling to either side. Finally Zeus remembered the danger, and pulled up the assault rifle, ready to shoot at the soldiers escaping. But there were none—the missile had penetrated the interior and detonated inside, obliterating the passengers.

A second vehicle appeared behind the first, to its right, moving up the shoulder of the road. Zeus retreated to his left, back into the field. He threw himself down as he heard the whiz of the missile leaving the trench. The AT-14 hit home before he reached the ground, crushing through the front of the carrier with an unworldly sound.

There were more vehicles behind them. Two troop trucks—Zeus could hear the engines revving as the vehicles went off the road, trying to avoid the broken APCs.

He'd thrown himself down near the body of one of the soldiers he'd killed earlier. An ammo box sat a few feet away.

It held bullets for a machine gun. Zeus couldn't see the weapon until he noticed a thick clump of grass about five feet away. The grass was camouflage, wrapped around the barrel and the main works.

He turned the weapon on its tripod, bringing it to bear on the troop trucks clearing the APCs. Situating a belt of bullets into the feed, he sighted and began firing. He was too low at first, then overcorrected, spewing bullets wildly around the field. Letting off the trigger, he pulled his body closer to the weapon and tried again. This time he was accurate enough to get a stream of slugs into the engine compartment of the lead truck. It continued a short ways, coasting on momentum until suddenly it stopped and began rolling backward down the slight incline it had climbed. By that time, Zeus had laced the rear of the truck with bullets and put a few into the cab of the second vehicle.

The belt ran through. Zeus fumbled with the cocking mechanism, trying to pull up the cover assembly to accept a new belt. The troops who'd been in the trucks were peppering the field with gunfire. A burst hit only a few inches away. Zeus left the gun and pushed himself face-first into the ground as bullets hit all around him.

Still under fire, he crawled next to the machine gun, reaching up and trying to reload it blind. Finally, he gingerly fit a round against the stop and got the cover down. But a fresh volley of bullets made him lurch backward.

An AT-14 spit from the ditch across the way. It slammed home into a vehicle Zeus couldn't see, though he heard the explosion.

The launch gave the Chinese soldiers a new target. As soon as Zeus realized he wasn't being fired at anymore, he pulled himself back to the machine gun. He laced the field, covering it with bullets.

Either one of the Chinese soldiers set off a smoke grenade for protection or one of the tracer rounds in the machine gun set fire to the grass. Smoke began rising from the Chinese position, a thick curtain of it.

Something moved at the far edge of the smoke on Zeus's right, near the bend in the road. Zeus aimed and began firing; within a few shots the machine gun choked, jammed. Reaching to clear it, he felt something slice against his neck, hot and sharp. The next thing he knew, he was on his back, bullets whizzing overhead.

He didn't realize he'd been shot until he felt something wet drip across his neck bone. He reached and touched it, then brought his hand close to his face. His fingers were black with dirt and the oil and grime from the gun. The blood was black as well, a strange shade of grim.

He put his fingers near his neck gingerly, then pulled them away as soon as he felt the sting.

I'm not really hurt,
he told himself.
It's like sunburn.

19

Beijing

Cho Lai could barely contain his anger
as the report continued. The plan to sneak troops into Hai Phong harbor had been thwarted by a single American destroyer, which had outmaneuvered one of the best ships in the Chinese fleet and managed to call the Chinese bluff. Meanwhile, the assault down the eastern coast of Vietnam, designed to reach the harbor at the same time the ships did, had stalled because of the storm. They might not reach the city for days.

The premier rose from the briefing table. The general at the podium stopped talking in mid-sentence. Cho Lai glared at each man in turn.

“We have stalled because of incompetence and cowardice!” he thundered. “I will have a new commander!”

He turned to his defense minister.

“Get my nephew from the front.”

“Colonel Sun is only a colonel,” said Lo Gong softly. “If he were put in charge—”

“I have work to do,” said Cho Lai. He waved his hand. “You are all dismissed. Leave!”

20

Inland from Halong Bay

A train rushed over Zeus,
the undercarriage and all its connected pipes and wires whipping a few inches from his face. A jet followed, wheels an inch from his brow. The world stormed by, flashing its color and speed.

He smelled the earth, the water, the thick brown soil around him. He smelled the soldiers he'd shot, lying dead or dying nearby.

It's just sunburn, he told himself, reaching again for his wound.

Just sunburn. Get up.

Get up!

He turned slowly onto his elbow, pushing up and looking for his machine gun. Something grabbed him and threw him down, twisting him over.

It was Cha
Å«
.

“Major Murphy—stay down!” gasped Cha
Å«
, his voice even hoarser than before.

“Okay,” Zeus muttered.

Angkor was nearby, rifling through the bodies of the Chinese for ammo. He yelled something to Cha
Å«
, who rose, then lobbed a grenade.

It didn't explode. There was a hissing sound instead.

Smoke.

“Come on!” barked Cha
Å«
in his hoarse voice. He grabbed at Zeus and started pulling him. “Stay low.”

Fresh automatic rifle fire filled the air. But it was off the mark, closer to the road and the ditch. They were moving to the west, toward a line of trees.

“When we make the jungle, we can rest,” said Cha
Å«
.

“Okay,” said Zeus, pumping his legs as his strength returned.

*   *   *

“Major, are you with us?”
asked Cha
Å«
.

Zeus, resting against a tree, looked up. “Yeah.”

“Your neck is bleeding.”

Cha
Å«
bent over and pulled the collar of Zeus's uniform away. The wound had already scabbed, the blood coagulating with the cloth, and it stung.

“Ah—it's okay, stop,” said Zeus.

“Sorry.”

“Is the bullet in there?” asked Zeus.

Cha
Å«
leaned close. “I don't think so. It's all red.”

Another close call. Sooner or later, his luck was going to run out.

Angkor had a small first-aid kit in one of his pants pockets. They took a large gauze bandage that came packed with ointment and taped it to Zeus's neck. The collar pulled some skin with it as they got the bandage in place. Blood trickled from the wound.

“I'll be all right,” said Zeus.

“What should we do now?” asked Cha
Å«
.

“Where are the Chinese?”

“Back in the field. They are firing at the house. They think we are still there. Over a hundred men,” added Cha
Å«
. “We destroyed three APCs, killed many.”

“All right. We should get out of here.”

Zeus rubbed his face, then reached into his pocket for his map. It was sodden. He unfolded it, examining the roads, trying to remember where exactly they were.

“There should be a village in that direction about two miles,” said Zeus, pointing due west. “If we can get there, this road looks like it will take us to the road General Tri's tanks were using to get south. You see?”

He showed Cha
Å«
the map.

“We have three more missiles,” said Cha
Å«
. “Should we make another attack?”

“They'll trap us in these woods if we make the attack from here,” said Zeus, pulling himself to his feet. “They'll get south of us on the road and come around. We'll be trapped.”

Cha
Å«
looked disappointed.

“The best thing to do, is wait a little while,” said Zeus. “But not here. I think we can swing a little more to the north, cross the stream, and keep going until we're north of the hamlet we were going to hit. We'll attack them there. If we can take them by surprise, hit a few vehicles, and then run west, they'll never catch us. We may even be able to hook up with the others.”

“Yes,” said Cha
Å«
. “It is a good plan.”

*   *   *

They walked for over an hour,
Zeus in the lead with the map. He had the Chinese assault rifle and several magazines that Angkor had pilfered from the dead. Cha
Å«
was next in line, carrying a Chinese gun he, too, had found, along with the box of missiles. Angkor had the rear, hauling the launcher as well as a pair of rifles and a bag of extra ammo.

The day turned more humid with the sun. While the jungle kept them in shade, between the humidity and the insects Zeus felt as if he were being pelted and pulled with every step he took. The thick vegetation snapped at him, petty lashes to add to the persecution.

A hollow hunger bit at his stomach. At times his eyes drooped toward the bottom of their sockets, his fatigue welling up.

To keep himself going, he thought of Anna. And yet thinking of Anna made things even more difficult. She was a prisoner.

“The water ahead must be deep,” said Cha
Å«
as they walked toward the creek. “I can hear it.”

“Yeah,” muttered Zeus.

The stream had overflowed its banks. It rushed through the jungle, flooding a good eight or ten feet up into the trees on either side. Zeus paused when he reached the edge. The water's path was wide but not particularly deep.

“Should we cross?” asked Cha
Å«
. His voice had recovered to the point that he could speak normally without too much strain.

“I wonder if we could float down the stream,” said Zeus. “We could hit them at the bridge instead of the hamlet.”

“What?” asked Cha
Å«
.

“If we lashed a few logs together, and just kind of floated down, you think it would work?”

“What would we use?”

“Just logs, and we could make some rope from the grass. They wouldn't expect us to come down the stream.”

Cha
Å«
said nothing. It was an outrageously impractical plan—a dream, really. Zeus was losing his mind.

“There are some rocks here,” said Zeus, wading into the water. “We'll get to the other side and move down.”

The water was only a foot deep, except in the middle, where it quickly dropped another two feet. But they were able to scramble across without their weapons getting wet.

Building a log raft à la Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn—no way. But a canoe was perfect.

“Look at that!” said Zeus, shouting as he spotted the boat pushed against a pair of trees upstream.

It was a wooden boat, slightly battered and small, but perfect.