Solemn Duty (1997) (3 page)

Forcing himself back to his feet, Frenchy coughed and gagged as he staggered down the slope and finally broke out of the suffocating cloud. The bunker where his grandmother and the rest of the village families had sought refuge was just ahead. He thanked Buddha, but seeing two mew running toward the same bunker, from in honor. He raised the heavy rifle and pulled the trigger just as the American sergeant had taught him. One of die running men grunted Mid pitched backward. The boy swung the barrel but the remaining man had jumped into the trench leading to the bunker's entrance.

Screaming, Frenchy ran to the lip of the entrenchment with his rifle ready. He stopped in horror, seeing that the bunker door had already been opened by the attacker and that he was tossing something inside. He heard the women and children cry out as he pulled the trigger again and again. The golden man's head snapped back, hair, brain tissue, and skull fragments splattered against the sandbags. Although Frenchy saw the man fall, he kept pulling the trigger, thinking that if he kept killing him, the frantic, chilling screams coming from the bunker would end. And they did--suddenly the bunker disappeared in a brilliant flash of searing light. Frenchy's scream of honor and pain was frozen in his throat as he was thrown skyward by the thunderous blast.

Chapter 2.

May 20, Central Highlands, Republic of South Vietnam.

The sun was just rising over the mountains as Sergeant First Class Carl Hanson lifted his canteen cup to his lips. Shutting his eyes, he savored the bitter taste of the C-ration instant coffee and told himself he was now ready to face the day. He opened his eyes and growled, "Pockets, get me Tanner. He's checkin' the perimeter for me."

Whining, the radio operator slowly got to his feet. "Aw, Pappy, it ain't light 'nough yet to go out there. Damn cherries will blow me away sure as shit."

"Move your ass or I'll blow you away right here," the grizzled sergeant replied with a menacing glare.

Minutes later the RTO returned with a short, broad shouldered, twenty-year-old staff sergeant badly in need of a bath and shave.

Hanson motioned to the ground beside him. "Take a load off and let's talk."

Sergeant Eli Tanner took off his battered helmet, set it on the ground, and sat on top of it. Hanson handed the squad leader his canteen cup with a grin. "Ranger, I'm leavin' today on the resupply bird. I done beat the odds and made it da fuck outta Nam. My time's up."

Eli Tanner took a sip of coffee and lowered the metal cup with a smile. "Congratulations, Pappy. I'm gonna miss ya."

"You're the only fuckin one gonna miss me. Look at em, will ya? Ya ever seen a collection of so many shitbirds in one platoon? Christ a'mighty, none of 'em could hold a candle to the men I had last tour. This bunch of pot-smokin', beadwearin' hippies ain't worth spit"

Eli shrugged and ran his hand through his short brown hair.

"Not their fault Pappy. The war's windin' down, and they know it. None of them warms be the last trooper killed in da Nam. Cut 'em some slack, they've done everything you asked."

"Yeah, and fuckin' bitched every fuckin' second doin' it, too. Well, it ain't my problem anymore. It's yours. I'm recommendin' to the L-tee he make ya the platoon sergeant."

Eli took another sip of coffee and shook his head. "You'll be wastin' your time. The L-tee will never let it happen."

"Bullshit. He's dumber than a box of rocks but he ain't stupid. You're the only Ranger-qualified staff sergeant he's got, and you've got the most experience. He'll make the right decision . . . I'll talk to him and make sure it happens."

"Pappy, the L,-tee doesn't like me, pure and simple. Since the day I told him he ought to tape his grenade pins, he's treated me like an ugly stepchild. Anyway, Collins has me in time of grade."

"Yeah, and Collins still can't find his ass with both hands.

Christ a'mighty that shitbird still can't read a map, and he's the biggest pothead in the platoon. Ain't no way the L-tee gonna let that shitbird take over for me. Now look, Ranger, loosen up and listen to Pappy. The word is this operation is the last. They only sent the company up here to make sure these mountains ain't crawling with regulars before the ARVNs take over our base camp. Once this walk in the sun is over, the battalion is gonna stand down. Lookee here, what I'm tellin' ya is this: Do it by the book. Keep your security well out and keep the shitbirds on their toes. There's clink regulars up here-Fouk says so and we've both seen the signs. I figure they know we're puffin' out so they're kicked back, just waitin' for us to leave... but they ain't gonna pass up a sure thing. If the platoon lollygags and forgets everything I taught 'em, them regulars gonna kick their ass. You gotta keep the scouts out for early warnin' and keep the boys ready to rock and roll. The gooks ain't gonna mess with a unit that's got its shit together."

Tanner motioned across the perimeter, where the lieutenant was pouring water from his canteen into his helmet to shave.

"You best explain all that to him. I've tried tellin' him we've been followed since we landed up here. He thinks I' m paranoid or somethin'."

Hanson rolled his eyes and shook his head. "What'd'ya expect, he was the battalion fuckin S-one weenie-pushed paper, for Christ's sake! I heard the colonel felt he owed him and sent him to the company to get his career ticket punched as a rifle platoon leader. That dumb sonofabitch can't lead shit.

Tryin' to talk sense inta him is like tryin' to push a wet noodle up a wildcat's ass. Watch him, Tanner, he's dangerous 'cause he thinks he knows what he's doin'. As platoon sergeant, you do what I said and get these shitbirds back to base camp all in one piece."

"Hell, Pappy, the way you're talkin', a person might think you cared about us shitbirds after all."

The old sergeant mumbled and pulled his canteen cup from Tanner's hand. "Get out of here, Tanner. You're as bad as the rest of 'em. Go check on the shitbirds and make sure they're securing the area for the resupply bird. I'm goin' back to the world, Tan. I'm goin' and ain't gonna lose no sleep worryin' about the likes of your lousy ass."

Tanner knew better. He stood and put on his helmet. He gave Pappy Hanson a light pat on the shoulder and smiled as he walked away. "Yep, sure gonna' miss your little pep talks, Pappy."

The yellow smoke swirled crazily as the resupply helicopter landed in the small clearing surrounded by massive sayo and teak trees. Sergeant First Class Hanson lowered his head, letting his helmet buffer the strong rotor wash as the second squad ran toward the shaking bird to unload boxes of C-rations and other supplies.

Lieutenant Duane Billings stepped up beside the old sergeant and offered his hand. "Sergeant, I know we've had our differences, but I wish you a safe journey back to the States."

Hanson hesitated a moment before taking the officer's hand, but knew he had to try one more time. "Sir, you gotta reconsider your decision. Make Sergeant Tanner your platoon sergeant he's young, but in all my years I ain't seen no better leader."

"Like I told you before, I'll take it under advisement, Sergeant. You'd better get on, the bird's almost unloaded."

Hanson knew his words had been wasted again. He hefted his rucksack to his shoulder and glanced to his right, where Eli was standing, his rifle at the ready, watching the tree line. I was wrong, the hardheaded asshole is dumb and stupid As if he heard the unspoken words, Eli turned just as his platoon sergeant climbed up into the Huey. Eli smiled and lifted his hand with a thumbs-up.

Overcome with guilt at leaving his men, Hanson couldn't make himself return the young sergeant's smile. The rotor wash increased and the slick began to rise. Hanson kept his tearing eyes locked on the young sergeant and finally found the strength to lift his hand and give a return thumbs-up. Good luck, Ranger, God knows you're gonna need it.

"Squad leaders report to me," Lieutenant Billings barked.

Three young sergeants approached their platoon leader, who sat on his rucksack holding a manila envelope he'd received in the resupply. The officer lifted the envelope with a grin. "It's good news, guys. Once we arrive back in base camp, we'll begin standing down and turn the camp over to the South Vietnamese Army. Looks like the war is over for us and we're all going home early."

The three sergeants exchanged grins and pats on the back as the officer took a map from his fatigue pocket and spread it out on the ground. He motioned toward Staff Sergeant Collins.

"Andy, I'm making you my platoon sergeant, you've got the most time in grade. Have Specialist Washington take your position as squad leader. All right, everybody look at the map. As you all know, three days ago the company was airlifted to this mountain plateau. The mission was to look for North Vietnamese regulars that might have moved into these high ridges to establish rocket-firing positions. Seeing no signs of recent activity, the company commander decided it would be faster to check out the area if each platoon worked independently and took a ridge to follow all the way back to base camp. Right now, first platoon is about two klicks to the north of us following this ridge, and third platoon is a klick to the south, on this one. I've looked at the map and have decided it would be better if we backtracked two klicks and took this bigger trail that leads to the valley. The terrain is easier and it'll be a much faster hump for us. I figure we'll make it to the valley by tomorrow and be in base camp by nightfall the following day. We'll depart at-"

"Ya don't wanna do that, L-tee," Eli Tanner said, shaking his head.

Not happy at being interrupted, especially when he was on a roll, Billings snapped, "Really? What is it I don't want to do?"

Eli motioned to the map. "Sir, like I told ya before, we've been followed since we landed. Fouk says it's trail watchers keeping track of us. Going back on the same trail is askin' for trouble. It's a Ranger rule too, sir, when in enemy territory ya never go back the way ya came."

"Are you finished?" Billings asked sarcastically. "I thought once I got rid of Hanson I could run this platoon without someone always questioning my orders. Did he tell you to hassle me just for old times' sake?"

Eli kept his gaze steady into the officer's eyes, letting him know he wasn't intimidated.

Sergeant Dan Murphy, the second squad leader, bobbed his head. "Sir, I learned that rule about not going back the way ya came in NCO school. Tanner's right, we'd be askin' for trouble."

"Great! Now I've got two of you that think you can run things," Billings said, throwing up his hands. "Forget it, this isn't a damn democracy where everybody votes. First squad will lead, followed by your squad, Murphy. Tanner, your squad will be last; maybe you'll find some of those trail watchers. We'll move out in an hour. Any questions?"

Eli rose and put on his helmet. "Yes, sir, but it's not a question. It's a suggestion. I think you'd better have Fouk take point. If there's trouble, he'll smell it."

Billings's eyes narrowed. "I don't want or need any more suggestions or advice from you, Sergeant Tanner. Anyway, I don't trust him. I heard he defected from the North Vietnamese Army some years ago."

"No; sir, that's not true, he's Cambodian. He worked with the Special Forces for four years and is considered to be the best scout in the battalion."

"I don't care what he knows; I don't trust him, plus I can't understand a damn thing he says. He stays with your squad.

That's it, no more talk. The faster we get out of these mountains, the sooner we'll be going home. Return to your squads and prepare to move out."

Eli was oiling his rifle bolt when a smiling young black specialist walked up holding a white envelope. "Dig it, Tan man, I got accepted for school, man."

Eli grinned and set the rifle down. "Let me see it, Cotton; you can't read. . . . Well, I'll be damned, it says right here you were accepted, all right. But hell, man, Tuskegee is in Alabama. Your mama gonna let ya get that far from her?"

Cotton Pierce slapped at Eli's shoulder. "Shiii-it, Tan man, what you givin' a brother Columbus, Georgia, boy the hassle for? My mama let me come to da Nam, man. She be proud of her war hero, I be profilin' soon, walkin' with books, not this fuckin' ruck, man. And I be sleepin' in a bed, not on the ground, eatin' regular hots and no more C's. Women be wantin' to hear old Cotton tell em' war stories and shit. I be snoopin' and poopin', lookin' for me some good times, not gooks. . . . Yeah, man, this Georgia boy gonna be what's happenin' on campus."

Eli handed the letter back. "I'm proud of you, Cotton. I mean it, man."

Cotton motioned to the open letter by Eli's ruck. "Who writin' you, man? The draft board? Send 'em a gook ear and say you done did the time."

"Naw, it's from my brother Jerome."

"Yeah, I remember your brother, man. For a white boy he sure could play football. I thought he got drafted by the Falcons, man."

"He did, but got cut. That's what the letter was about. He's going into the Justice Department-can you believe this-he's goin' to the FBI academy."

"Jerome Tanner, a G-man? Man, now that's a trip. Your bro and you was nothin' but trouble, man. Was it Jerome the one who got busted for sellin' moonshine to us niggers, or you, man? Can't remember."

"Me, dummy. Jerome was too smart."

Cotton grinned. "Yeah, that's right, your daddy told my daddy you was facin' time. Got out of it, though, didn't ya, Tan man? Slick-ass white boy skated. This nigger be doin' time for that shit."