the Last Run (1987) (41 page)

The forest's solitude and fresh air were all he wanted. In ten days he would have to return to the headquarters tunnel and its demands. Ten days to regain his inner strength knowing the war was won ... but would never really be over.

"You think this is really going to work?"

Childs sipped his beer and held up the starlight scope again, scanning the barracks only thirty yards away. "I don't laiow, but it's the first bush I've ever been on where I could drink beer."

Sergeant Gino held back his laughter and tried to make himself comfortable on the corrugated tin roof. Childs checked his watch-0100-and raised the scope again. The pale green light displayed the barracks as a dark green image.

Gino raised his beer and took a sip. At least it isn't raining, he thought. Jesus, if they're gonna come, do it! My butt is getting tired sitting on this damn roof. God, I hope that Claymore the L-tee rigged works.

Childs reached out and tapped Gino, interrupting his thoughts. "We got company."

Gino reached down, grabbed his starlight, and raised it. At first he saw only the familiar image of the barracks, but then he saw light-green shapes moving along the ground. "I'll be damned. I count four."

Childs picked up the Claymore detonator and looked back into his scope. "Yep, it's four of 'em, and they're almost. . . almost . . . come on a litde closer . . . just a little . . . now/" He depressed the detonator handle.

The explosion was surprisingly small, sounding more like a cherry bomb firecracker than a Claymore blast. Childs cursed as he scrambled for the ladder. Gino raised the scope to see where the men had run, but before he got the night vision device to his eye, he knew he didn't have to worry about finding them. He could hear them. In fact, by now the whole camp could probably hear them.

Childs hit the ground at a full run, but got only ten feet before having to stop. The gas overcame him. He quickly took the small gas mask from his leg pocket, put it on, and turned on his flashlight.

Lieutenant Gibson's gas Claymore had worked beautifully. He had taken the Claymore apart, removed the plastic front cover, the plastic plate of lethal double-ought ball bearings, and three- fourths of the C-4 plastic explosive. Then he'd filled the Claymore with granulate CS persistent gas.

Childs's light beam shone through the white cloud. The four would-be attackers had crawled to within five feet of the modified Claymore when Childs had detonated the mine. The leader had taken the worst of the riot gas. His rose-colored glasses had protected his eyes, but the sand-size fragments had penetrated the skin all over his face, exposed neck, and arms. He lay beating the ground, gasping, vomiting, and contorting in misery. The others were similarly rolling and twisting. Rangers streamed out of the barracks but stayed a safe distance from the choking gas. Childs smiled behind the gas mask as he reached down to pick up the leader.

J. D. Gibson had lain in his bed, unable to sleep, thinking of the secret ambush. When the muffled explosion had come, he'd sat up in a cold sweat, but the ensuing screams had made him sigh in relief. When he had presented his plan to the sergeants, Childs had eyed him coldly and later told him, "This better work, L-tee, or I'm gonna kick your ass just like I did in Ranger school. I want them sneaky shits to remember for a long time they don't fuck with Rangers."

Gibson lay back down. He knew Childs would not be coming to carry out his threat.

Chapter 21

The briefing room was crowded with Ranger team leaders, helicopter pilots, and liaison officers. Childs entered the door and barked, "Ah-tench-hut!" The men rose from their chairs as Colonel Ellis walked down the aisle followed by Major Shane.

The colonel picked up a pointer and turned to the assembly. "Take your seats. I'm Colonel Ellis, the Corps's intelligence officer. Tomorrow at 0700 we begin Operation Stiletto." Ellis walked to the wall map and pulled down a covering poncho liner.

"Gendemen, somewhere in this large area is the North Vietnamese Second Division. Your mission is to find them. Before Major Shane comes up here and gives you the concept of the operation, I want to introduce you to key players who are attached to us. Major Cid Orlando is the Air Force liaison who will coordinate F-4 fighter bomber close air support and B-52 targeting.

A slight, dark-haired major stood and nodded to the staring group.

Ellis pointed to another officer on the front row. "And Major Frank Dundee is our Army aviation liaison from the 268th Aviation Battalion."

The major partially stood and raised his hand before quickly sitting back down.

Ellis lowered his pointer. "I'm the Corps's representative only. Major Shane is the operational commander. This operation is vitally important to the V Corps and South Vietnam. Finding and destroying the Second NVA Division will send a message to Hanoi that we are not just sitting on our asses in defense positions. You have been selected because of your outstanding combat records. I feel very proud to be a part of this operation and know you will do your utmost to find the bastards. Good luck to you."

Colonel Ellis sat down as Shane walked to the map and pointed to the recon area. "Tomorrow, the First, Second, and Third Ranger Platoon teams will..."

General Binh Due was in his hut, reading the radio messages he had received that morning, when Colonel Sy entered and set down another stack.

The general glanced at the pile. "Anything of importance?"

Sy shook his head. "No, all is going to plan. The intelligence reports still show no large American changes in disposition. We can safely assume no major operations are planned."

The general closed his eyes for a moment and stood slowly. "When we return to the tunnel, we must begin plans for diversionary attacks along Highways 1 and 14. This will keep the Americans occupied while we consolidate our major units in the west. The Americans cannot afford heavy losses during their pull- out. We will use the local people's forces for the diversion."

Colonel Sy raised his brow. "The local units have few experienced troops remaining. Their ranks have given much blood. Perhaps we should consider providing them some cadre from our regular units to bolster morale."

The general walked to the hut's doorway and looked out at the valley. "The People's Liberation Armed Forces are nothing but phantoms with little fight left, and that is exactly what the Americans must think. They must feel they can handle the small threat while still withdrawing. Should we show our strength too soon they would stop their retreat and begin offensive operations again." The general turned slowly and looked at his friend of many years with a sad expression. "The local forces must shed more blood. Supply them with whatever they need in munitions and arms, but no soldiers."

The colonel lowered his eyes. "The reunification will be a hollow victory without shouts of joy from so many who began the struggle. The countless dead will never know of their success."

The general sat down and picked up a message from the stack. His eyes glanced tiredly at the paper, then up to the colonel.4 'The dead will be with us when victory comes. Their shouts of joy will be heard by you and me."

Wade walked out of the stifling briefing room, drenched in sweat. The hot afternoon sun attacked him unmercifully as he strode toward the barracks holding his map and notes of the upcoming mission. He paused in the doorway and turned around. He wasn't ready yet. Changing direction, he strolled to the plateau edge.

Below him was the airfield. Simmering heat waves off the runway distorted the shapes of the parked helicopters. The surrounding area was flat except for the mountains looming far to the west. The base was on a plateau that rose up twenty meters. It was the only high ground for miles. Wade wiped sweat from his eyes and glanced at the map he held in his hand. Tomorrow they would again be in the jungle, but this time not to kill. His men wouldn't object to searching for an NVA division. They'd listen to his briefing and accept the mission as routine, but tonight when they lay down to sleep each would ask themselves the question: Is this the mission where I buy it? Maybe this time, this mission, their luck and skill would run out. The odds were against them; if seen they would die. They didn't have the firepower to hold off a large force before the gunships arrived. This mission would be unlike any other. He knew it . . . and soon his men would know it, too.

Wade took a deep breath and shook the doubts from his head. He was ready now.

Major Shane took off his sweat-soaked shirt and sat behind his desk. He picked up a one-page report and waved it in one hand. "Do you expect me to believe that four engineers accidentally gassed themselves beside one of our barracks last night?"

Childs stood beside the major's desk, looking up at the ceiling. "Sir, don't ask no questions and I won't tell no lies. It's a dead issue. The problem we had is solved. We gonna keep this real quiet and it'll all pass."

Shane stared at his sergeant's weathered face and tossed down the paper. "Okay, it's dead. I won't ask, but damn it, let me know next time. When that Claymore went off last night, it scared the hell outta me. I ran to a bunker and stayed there half the night!"

Childs rolled his eyes and sat down. "Sir, your briefing went well. The aviators seem to have their shit together and didn't piss and moan like they usually do. The Air Force major worries me a litde with those dumb-ass questions he asked, but we can keep an eye on him."

Shane agreed with a nod and looked over his briefing notes. "Colonel Ellis got us plenty of air assets, so things ought to go pretty smoothly, but I'm still worried about the fourth recon area, the Stadium Zone. I'll bet a dime to a doughnut they're in that area exactly for the reason we don't like it-no landing zones for infiltration."

Childs leaned back in his chair. "Sir, it'll take us four days to check out the three other areas. Don't get excited and start losing sleep over somethin' that ain't a problem yet. Let's see what the teams come up with first."

Shane looked up with a frown. "Okay, but I'm going to order some photo missions just in case. The Mohawks fly high enough not to be seen or heard. You better talk to the team leaders tonight and make sure they know how important moving quietly is in their areas. If they even think they hear or see something, I want them reporting in."

Childs noted his major's worried tone and nervous fidgeting. "Goddamn, sir, you're makin' me antsy just listenin' and watchin' you. Relax, for Christ's sake!"

Shane had picked up a pencil and was jabbing the point into his desk. He tossed the pencil down, exasperated. "What the hell am I supposed to do?"

Childs stood and walked to the door. He paused and looked over his shoulder. "Ya start by leading by example."

Shane picked up the pencil and grinned before throwing it at his sergeant. "Get out of here so I can relax!"

Wade sat on his bed with his map spread on the floor in front of him and his team surrounding him as he explained the mission. "The Third Platoon is going to recon the third area. It's broken down with four team recon zones. Our RZ is here. L-tee Gibson will be infilling us tomorrow at 0700. We're going in a couple of klicks outside our area, so we'll have to walk in, but it'll be safer that way. Once we get in we'll establish a patrol base and break up into two-man recon teams. We'll clover-leaf out and return to the patrol base. If you see or hear something, get your ass back to the patrol base and wait until we all get back. This is gonna be slow and tiring. Be alert and rest when ya have to. No shooting. Just run if ya get compromised. Me and Preacher are Team One. Thumper and Woodpecker, T\vo, and Russian, you and Rose, Team Three. What're your questions?"

Rose hopped to his feet and pointed at Russian. "No, man, not me and the foreigner."

Wade ignored the irate soldier and spoke to the others. "We're travelin' light and quiet, so pack accordingly. The dinks won't know we're there, so they'll be half steppin'. Check the wind constantly for their cooking fires and voices. Move slow and keep an eye out."

Rose stamped his foot for attention. "Man, I can't be snoopin' and poopin' with that hairy dude. The foreigner is an ox. He makes more noise than a herd of elephants."

Russian, patting Bitch, eyed the black soldier coldly. "You speak untrue things, crazy one."

Wade smiled. "Rose, you know Russian is as good as you. You're just worried he'll show ya up."

Rose's frown turned into a calculating grin. "I'll go with the foreigner if you split the care package."

Wade's eyes showed confoundment. Thumper smiled and pulled a big, brown-paper-wrapped box from under his bed. "The mail came when you were in die briefing."

Wade looked at the box and grinned. It had come from Ginny. "If it's food we'll all split it," he said, and pulled his knife. He slit the sides and, raising the lid, peeked in.

"Well?" said Thumper.

Matt slammed the lid back. "Nope, it's not chow. She sent me underwear. Sorry, guys." He stood up and lifted the box to his shoulder. "Seey'all."

The sergeant started for the barracks' door, trying to contain a smile.

"Matt!" yelled Thumper, jumping to his feet.

"Hold it, man! Let me check it out!" added Rose.

Wade spun around and dumped the contents on the floor. Small cans of smoked ham, shrimp, oysters, and colored packages of cheese and breads scattered over the map and concrete floor.

"Thank you, Lord!" sighed Preacher, grabbing up a can of ham.