Solemn Duty (1997) (4 page)

Eli shrugged. "I'm doin' the time now, aren't I?"

"Yeah, you done paid, slicky boy. Soon you goin' ta be back in Columbus. You goin' to school, man, or you gonna be a lifer?'

"A lifer? Do I look that stupid?"

"Hey, all white boys look the same to me. Are ya? Goin' to school, man, or go work for your old man?"

"School," Eli said, picking up his rifle again. "I'm going to apply to Georgia U. and see what happens. Hey, this hump ain't goin' to be a cakewalk, so keep your eyes open. I want us Columbus boys to make it back in one piece."

Cotton lifted his rifle and puffed out his chest "Man, you talkin' to the best team leader in the first squad. I be a snoopin poopin' fool. No sweat, man. You third squad shitbirds be watchin' your own ass. I got the first covered, man."

Eli raised an eyebrow. "You take it easy, Cotton, serious shit now, I mean it."

Cotton's smile dissolved and he nodded. "I'll be careful, Tan man. You do the same, man. See ya when we laager and we'll split my mama's brownies she sent me. I gots a care package in the pony along with my acceptance. We be chowin' down on Georgia pecans, man, can you dig it? See ya."

Eli smiled. "Yeah, man, I can dig it. See ya," he said as he stood. Lifting his rucksack to his shoulder, he barked to his squad, "Saddle up third, time to ride."

Soaked in sweat, Sergeant Dan Murphy stopped alongside the trail, letting the rest of his squad pass by. He waited for only a few seconds and saw the Cambodian scout approaching, followed by his friend and fellow squad leader. Waiting until Eli Tanner was within a few feet, Murphy stepped back on the trail and joined him. "I don't like this worth a shit, Tan. We're movin' too fast and the L-tee doesn't have the point team out far enough."

Eli hunched his shoulders to relieve the weight of his heavy rucksack. "What'ya expect? He's in a hurry to get back to base camp. Just keep your boys on their toes. Remember, when we humped this trail yesterday it widened about two hundred yards up, where we saw those house-size boulders. He'll have to stop and send the point team out to check them out before we move on."

Murphy wiped sweat from his brow with the frayed end of an olive-drab towel that hung around his neck. "Ya gotta try and talk sense into him, Tan man. I got a feeling about this, a bad feeling. It's too damn quiet, and you've seen the same prints I have. What's Fouk saying?"

"He says they're here, all right. He says we're dinky dau, crazy, for backtrackin'. Look at him, he's walkin' like a cat on a hot tin roof. You'd better get back to your squad. I'm sure we'll be stoppin' in just a second or two, and I'll go up and try and talk to him again."

"I'll go with ya, Tan. I'm not lettin' him get us killed 'cause he's in a hurry. See ya in a bit."

Tanner nodded silently as Murphy increased his pace to catch up to his men.

A full minute passed and the hand signal for halting had still not been passed back. Not liking what he was feeling, Eli slowed his steps. He kept telling himself the L-tee was surely going to stop the platoon and send the point team ahead to check out the danger area. His friend Cotton was good and would check the area with his fire team. The place was strewn with huge boulders and aboveground tree roots, some taller than a man. The trail twisted and turned through the maze, and just about any point on it was a perfect ambush position. Surely he's going to halt. Surely . . . surely. Shit.

Eli raised his hand, signaling the squad to freeze. Just ten feet ahead of him, Fouk was crouched down, looking off to his left front as if he saw something that wasn't right. Eli tensed as the small Cambodian slowly moved his hand to his fatigue shirt and pulled out his gold neck chain. Keeping his distant stare, Fouk felt down the chain to the small Buddha and brought it up to his mouth.

Eli spun around; they were in serious trouble. Fouk only placed the Buddha in his mouth when he thought he was in danger of dying.

"Gun up," Eli whispered to the two men a few feet behind him. Both came forward in a run, the first holding an M-60 machine gun, the second carrying additional belts of linked ammunition.

Making a quick survey of the ground, Eli pointed and whispered, "Set up there by the base of that tree. Link two belts and, when I tell ya, hose that area to your left front and keep it comin' ." He quickly motioned the four remaining men of his squad up and pointed to where he wanted them to go. He whispered as they got down into their positions. "Put weapons on semi and get out your flags. If they rush, use your frags first"

Taking in a breath and pushing his rifle's selector switch to semi, he looked down the trail, hoping Murphy's squad had halted. Shit! They were still moving, following the first squad.

Breaking the foreboding silence, he yelled, "Murphy, get your men down! Dink ambush! They're to your-"

To his left and front the forest seemed to explode in an earsplitting, single crack that immediately turned into a sustained roar of gunfire. He dove to the ground 'mowing his warning was too late. The distinct loud cracking sounds of the NVA weapons were those of Chinese-made RPD machine guns and AK-47s.

Shit! He rolled out of his rucksack and barked to his gun team.

"Not yet, wait for their assault team to show themselves.

Keep steady, boys . . . stead-deee. Grimes, keep watching our rear. Everybody get frags ready to toss. Stead-dee."

Then Tanner saw them. Like ghouls, they seemed to rise out of the ground only thirty yards away. It looked as if the forest was rushing toward, for they were all wearing camouflaged net capes and helmet nets stuffed with leaves and ferns. Despite the fact that his heart was pounding so loud he could hear it over their hollering and gunfire, Eli felt hope. Their assault force was made up of close to fifteen men, and they were headed toward the other two squads on the trail. It was going to be the NVA's turn to be surprised.

"Now!" he yelled to his men, and immediately five grenades sailed toward the attackers and the M-60 rattled, spewing out a red stream of death.

Tanner tossed a second grenade, threw himself to the ground and picked up his rifle. Peering from beneath his helmet toward the killing ground, he could see the red tracers from the M-60 disappearing into contorting bodies that twisted, spun, and fell in heaps. Then the grenades began exploding in earsplitting cracks, throwing out white-hot shrapnel that immediately tore and ripped through flesh and bone. Stunned, the surviving attackers ceased their yelling and their charge.

Knowing he had to take the offense while the enemy were still dazed, Tanner rose and yelled for his men to fire. He brought his M-16 up, aimed, and squeezed the trigger. His target looked as if he had hit an invisible wall; with a look of shock he fell backward. Tanner swung the barrel, aligned his sights on another and squeezed again. The small Vietnamese soldier was knocked off his feet and rolled on the ground in agony. Eli didn't see him rolling; he had another already in his sights. He fired, and the man dropped his rifle as if it were red-hot then fell face first to the ground. Red tracers from the machine gun whizzed through his next target before he had a chance to fire.

He looked for another but none were left standing. His men had finished off the others. Dropping to a knee, he quickly changed magazines and felt a wave of relief, hearing the familiar popping of M-16s coming from the trail where the two squads had been ambushed. Some of them made it! Thank you Lord, thank you! He rose up and was about to order his men forward to help the other squads when he heard a frantic scream from Grimes, who had been watching the trail behind them.

"More are comin' up the trail!" A long burst from the trooper caused Tanner to spin around. Oh shit!

Gun smoke lay like a heavy mist on the forest floor as Eli Tanner walked slowly, checking the small perimeter. Only seven men in the platoon were still able to fire their weapons, and like himself, three of them were wounded. He winced as he bent over and patted Dan Murphy's back. "Steady, Murph.

Gunships are on the way. How's the shoulder?"

The sergeant shook his bare head. "Hurts like hell . . . but I can still shoot. Any word on the third platoon?'

Bone tired, Eli sank to his knees. "Pockets says they're about a klick away. Hang on, buddy, we'll be out of this in an hour or so."

Murphy looked up at the kneeling soldier, then took the towel from around his own neck. "You're still leakin', Tan.

Better take my drive-on and wrap that neck wound of yours.

Another quarter inch to the right and you'd be history. It hurt?"

"It did, kinda numb now. Murph, they're gonna hit us again.

Fouk crawled out and heard 'em. Looks like it was a company, and there's still a platoon of 'em left. They think we're done for. We got claymores out during the lull so it looks like we got a chance. I've shifted the guys over to my side of the perimeter, where Fouk says they'll hit us. You're gonna be alone here, man. Keep your eyes open and holler if you see somethin'."

Murphy was silent for a moment then nodded once. "I've got it, Tan . . . take care, huh."

Tanner patted his friend's back, and using his rifle as a crutch, he slowly rose and walked back to the center of the perimeter, where the badly wounded lay in rows. He stopped by the platoon medic, who was knotting a tourniquet on a trooper's leg. Eli could see the medic's efforts were wasted, the soldier's ash-gray face a sure sign that he'd already lost too much blood.

Finished tying the knot, the black medic wiped his bloody hands on his shirt, glanced up, then moved to his next patient.

"Tan, it's bad, man. I'm outta everything. I got seven down, and six of 'em is critical. Cotton died just a minute ago. When's the fuckin' Third Herd gettin' here?'

Tanner quickly shifted his eyes to the last man lying on the ground covered by a poncho. He began to move toward the body but the medic grabbed his leg. "Tan, he's dead, man. What about the third platoon?'

Tanner hardened his heart; there wasn't time to grieve now.

He quickly wiped his eyes, then tried to speak calmly.

"Pockets is talkin' to them on the horn, they're movin' as fast as they can." He leaned over touched the soldier's shoulder and whispered, "They're gonna be hittin' us again."

"Oh Jesus, Tan. We can't hold them this time."

"Stead-dee. We crawled out and got claymores from the trucks and set 'em up, and we've got gunships comin'. We'll hold. You just keep the wounded down when the shit hits the fan."

Standing back erect, Tanner slowly turned, looking over his small perimeter, nestled between two huge teaks. After stopping the attack to their rear, he'd had his men move up the trail to join the other survivors. It had been far worse than he thought. The entire first squad had been killed or wounded.

Sergeant Collins and the lieutenant were dead, and Murphy's squad was badly torn up. Pockets, the radio operator, survived, but he'd been hit in the legs. Tanner had found the slight depression between the two trees and ordered his men to move the wounded into it and establish a defensive position.

Walking over to the west side of the depression, the young sergeant kneeled down by Pockets, who was sitting up, supported by two rucksacks.

"You gonna be able to keep on the horn?' he asked softly.

The young soldier raised the handset to show he still had the strength. "I ain't dyin' here, Tan. I been humpin' this twenty-five-pound motherfuckin' radio for four months and now, it's payback time; it's gonna save my ass. I gave the map coordinates ya gave me to the gunships. They say they'll be here in less than five minutes. I saw Fouk crawl back in-the gooks gonna attack us again?"

"Yeah, looks like it Stay on the horn and be ready to pop a smoke for the guns. Tell 'em we'll need it in close. Maybe if the guns get here the clinks won't try and-"

Green tracers whizzed over Tanner's head. He fell to the ground and frantically crawled to the claymore clackers that would detonate two deadly directional mines set up fifty feet away. Bullets chewed up the ground around the depression's rim as Tanner grasped the two plastic devices and talked to himself to try and remain calm. Those are machine guns firing, Tanner. They want to keep everybody's head down while an assault force moves in close for the kill. Wait, Tanner, wait till the machine guns l0 their fire, then it'll be time. Wait, wait. wait.

Suddenly, the fire lifted and he heard shouting. Rising, he saw them rushing forward. Oh God! Two attacking waves! He ducked down, closed his eyes in prayer and pushed the clacker handles down. Although he thought he was ready, the horrific explosion still caused him to groan in pain from the shear violence of the ear-shattering roar. Covered in dust and leaves from the back blast, Tanner rose with his M-16 in his hands.

Deafened by the explosion, he felt strangely all alone and very small. A black-brown cloud to his front was lifting, revealing what the mines' hundreds of ball bearings had done. Tom, darkened bodies lay in grotesque positions, but out of the smoke more men suddenly appeared, running straight for him.

Screaming in anger and frustration, he fired from the hip at the closest man, only three feet away, hit him in the face, spun, fired, spun again, and shot another and another.

Suddenly he was reeling back from a powerful unseen blow to his chest. Everything became blurry and he felt himself falling backward. He blinked to clear his vision and could see the green forest canopy high above him, but his eyelids became so heavy he couldn't hold them open any longer. He knew he was on his back but had not felt himself hit the ground. Got to get up, got to try and stop them. Oh Jesus, I can't move, there's something on my chest pushing down. It's pushing down harder. It hurts so damn bad' No, gotta fight through it, gotta try. I gotta try.