the Last Run (1987) (51 page)

Preacher picked up the radio and crawled over to Wade. "The Slick is inbound!"

Wade tried to stand but the effort was too painful. He knew he couldn't walk, even if he got to his feet. He fell back, looking at his men and knowing they couldn't make it. He held out his hand for the handset. "Three Alfa, this is Three- one. Over."

Foley was watching the Slick make its approach to the ridge and depressed the floor button. "This is Three Alfa, are you en route? Bird is almost there."

Wade spoke between clenched teeth. "We're . . . we're not going to make it."

Foley slammed his foot on the floor switch. He couldn't believe what he'd just heard. "What? God damn it, Wade, you gotta make it! What happened? What's the problem?"

Wade tossed the handset to Preacher. "Explain the situation. And tell him to get the Guns in here until they figure out how they're gonna get us out."

Wade crawled to Thumper and Woodpecker. "We gonna have to suck it up and hang tough."

Thumper picked up Gibson's CAR-15 and chambered a round. He looked at Woodpecker, who held up his thumb and rolled over behind his M-60.

Foley lowered his head. Preacher's report on the NVA assault and Ranger casualities made Foley feel sick, but he dutifully relayed the information to Childs.

Sergeant Quy faced his squad leaders. 4'We will crawl up the slope in a line. Once we are close to the boulders, all squads will fire on my command, except the first squad, which will rush the position. Third squad will follow, then fourth."

The first squad leader looked up worriedly at the canopy. "We all heard the helicopters! What do we do if the helicopters attack us?"

Quy glanced up, then stared at the corporal. "The branches are thick and will protect us. Just do your duty when the time comes. If the helicopters attack, they will not be able to see us. Their rockets will explode in the branches high above. Your only worry is the American fire." The sergeant's eyes shifted to the other leaders. "We attack in thirty minutes. This will give you time to brief your men and get into position. We move forward on my command."

Shane's jaw muscles rippled as he listened to Foley's report. Childs sat stone-faced, staring at the radio. Colonel Ellis paced back and forth and halted abruptly at the end of transmission. "Surely some of them could get out? He said some were only lighdy wounded.''

Shane shook his head. 4"They won't leave their friends."

Ellis shook his head. "I'm sorry, Ed, truly sorry."

Childs stood abruptly and walked to the corner of the room. He picked up his M-16 and looked up at the Army air liaison. "How many Slicks ya got on the airfield?"

'Three, but. . ."

"Crank 'em up!"

Ellis raised his hand, "Hold it, we can't afford any more losses. We. . ."

Childs had turned around and picked up Shane's rifle and tossed it toward his major.

Shane caught the weapon in front of the colonel's face. He spun around, facing Ellis with a scowl. 4 4You have another suggestion, sir? You know a way to get them out?"

Ellis stammered, 4 4Well ... no ... but .. . hell, let's face it. It's over. We can't send more men into a hopeless situation."

Childs strode for the door and stopped in the doorway, pointing at Ellis. "It ain't over, God damn it! It ain't never over!" He spun around and jogged up the steps, followed by Bitch.

Shane nodded at the Army pilot. "Get the birds ready. We'll be on the airfield in ten minutes."

Ellis grabbed Shane's shoulder as he began to walk for the steps. Shane turned with a look of defiance. The colonel began to speak but lowered his head and put out his hand. He raised his eyes to Shane. "Good luck."

Rose pulled the last body up and placed it on the platform he had created by laying two AK-47s across four other bodies. He'd stacked the NVA like sandbags, forming a firing port for Woodpecker. Thumper gagged. The smell of the ripped corpses was too much for him. Preacher called the gunships in for another rocket run. Preacher had put the choppers to work immediately when they had arrived a few minutes before. He was directing their fire northwest, in the direction of the retreating NVA.

Wade crawled back to Lieutenant Gibson, who was unconscious. Gibson was lucky, he thought as he inspected the dressings, lucky to be in a dreamless sleep and away from all this. Russian sat back against the boulder, with his bandaged head raised, as if listening to the forest. Wade crawled up beside him and took his hand. "Sorry about this, Cart."

Russian turned and squeezed Wade's hand. "Are you hurt, my Sergeant?"

"Only a few fragments in my ass," said Wade, trying to sound convincing.

Russian swung his head toward the valley. "They will attack in waves. They will have men shooting trying to knock out the machine gun. Do not shoot the gun until you must. Let the first wave come close and blow Claymores at die second. Throw gas then ... it will disorient the others."

Wade listened well. His friend had more experience than the whole team combined. Russian brought his other hand up and patted Wade's arm. "The enemy cannot attack on all sides or they would shoot each other. They must attack from one direction. Stop the second wave, my Sergeant. You must."

Wade smiled through his pain. "We will, old-timer. I'm gonna get you home ... I'm gonna get us all home. And that's a promise, you hear? A promise." He released his friend's hand and crawled to the others to pass on the defensive plan.

Chapter 27

Childs climbed into the lead Huey and spun around to take the rucksack Pete had insisted on carrying for him. Pete grabbed Childs's hand with a worried expression. "Be careful, Sarge."

Childs looked at the typist with an atypical smile and winked. "It's a piece of cake. Take care of that dumb-ass dog for me . . . and take care of yourself, kid."

Childs turned and gave the pilot a thumbs-up. The chopper lifted immediately and dipped forward to gain air speed.

The two Slicks lifted off behind the lead bird and followed. Childs leaned over to Shane and yelled over the engine noise, "We'll be there in twenty minutes. Guns are going to join us and lead us in."

Shane nodded and chambered a round into his M-16.

Childs had selected twelve men-two medics, four M-60 gunners, and six of the biggest men in the company. He needed the medics for the wounded team members, the machine gun gunners for firepower, and the big men to carry the wounded.

Foley had reported that the blown LZ on the ridge was only big enough for one bird. The first two Slicks carried the rescue force, and they would have to go in one at a time. They'd be extracted in reverse. The third empty Slick would pick up the team; the other two would retrieve the rescue force.

Childs pulled out a magazine and inserted it into his weapon. He leaned back on the padded firewall and thought of his wife. She'd be in the school cafeteria cleaning up after the noon meal. Her face would be flushed from the heat of the kitchen and her hair would be tied back and covered by a hairnet. The thought of her working made him angry at himself. She deserved better, damn it! Her hair was so pretty when it hung down and . . . Damn!

Colonel Sy and Sergeant Chuong walked past the line of waiting men, talking calmly, urging them to relax, but the effort was difficult, for three men had already been killed and four had been wounded by rocket fragments from the gunships. The helicopters had made passes up and down the slope searching for their position. The gun and rocket runs had come close, but were haphazard and mosdy ineffective.

Chuong looked at his watch and centered himself along the ragged line of men. He lifted his arm and brought it forward. The platoon rose and began the trek up the slope.

Preacher set down the handset with a smile. He whispered to Wade loudly enough for all the team to hear. "A rescue force is coming in to get us out! They'll be here in fifteen minutes!"

Wade shut his eyes to put the throbbing pain somewhere else and raised up. "You heard it, Three-one. We gotta hold!" He'd promised Russian-and himself-that they'd all make it home . . . and by God, they would!

Rose pushed off the safety of his rifle and blurted, "Fuckin' A!"

Thumper looked behind him at Gibson and Russian. His face contorted in anger upon seeing their wounds, and he whispered in determination, "Fuckin' A!"

Woodpecker lay beside his M-60, holding a rifle. He let the bolt slam forward and nodded to himself as he spoke, "Fuckin' A!"

Russian lifted his head with a quick "Fuckin' A!" as Preacher finished his prayer asking for forgiveness for what he was about to say. He looked down the slope and raised his rifle. "Fuckin' A, brothers!"

Chuong could just barely see the boulders on the ridge and lowered himself to his knees. He turned to face his men and raised the hinged bayonet on his AK-47 to its extended position.

The line of men all sunk to their knees and followed their leader's example, locking their bayonets for close combat.

Chuong motioned them forward and began to crawl.

Rose's eyes darted back and forth. He knew the NVA were close. He felt them. He turned over and whispered, "They're comin'!"

Preacher picked up the handset and directed the Guns to make a pass in front of their position. He knew Rose too well to doubt his instincts.

The lead gunship banked hard right and lowered its nose.

Chuong crawled a few feet toward the boulders just ahead, then raised his rifle. The men behind him crawled up and got in position. The sound of the attacking helicopter unnerved a few of them, who flattened themselves as minigun bullets ripped through the canopy above.

Chuong raised up, ignoring the helicopter, and yelled, "Fire!"

Wade and the team stayed hidden as the bullets tore into the battie-scarred boulders and NVA bodies. Wade was waiting for a change in the tempo of firing and yelling that would signal an assault. He and the others had all pulled pins on grenades and held the spoons down, waiting.

Suddenly the fire decreased, and the soldiers of the first squad jumped to their feet, cried out at the top of their voices, and began their assault.

Wade judged their voices to be twenty yards away and closing fast. He counted aloud, "One . . . Two. . . Three . . . Now!"

Each man tossed his grenade over the boulder and readied his weapon.

The first squad leader was only a few feet away when a succession of explosions threw him forward into the rocks. He hit his shoulder and fell back. His shirt was ripped open and his intestines were bubbling out up from a gash in his stomach. Screaming, he grabbed at the slimy pink flesh as Woodpecker rolled into position. Woodpecker fired point-blank at the soldier's face, ending his agony. TWo men lying wounded among the dead tried to get up when Wade and Thumper rolled over and fired. The two NVA fell back into silence.

A second wave of men fired from the hip and ran toward the boulders. Woodpecker dropped the M-16 and got behind his M-60. He aimed low and pulled the trigger. The first three men fell, shot first in the legs and then hit again, this time in the face and shoulders. Now Wade's weapon was empty. He grabbed for another magazine as Thumper fired a burst into the chest of a charging soldier. Thumper saw the red glow from the last bullets as they disappeared into the falling man and knew his own gun was empty-he always loaded tracers last to signal the end of the magazine.

TWo remaining NVA ran up to the boulders, firing steadily. One of them jumped to the top of a rock and fired into the first target he saw. Russian jerked back, struck in the chest, and toppled over.

"No!" screamed Wade in anguish as the NVA soldier swung his weapon and fired the last of his ammunition into Gibson and the body of Toan.

Wade forgot his wounds and yanked the pistol from his shoulder holster. He screamed as he raised it up, viciously jabbed the barrel into the startled NVA's side, and fired. The small Vietnamese was blown off the rock by the deadly blast. The second NVA lunged forward with his bayonetted rifle. The long, narrow blade struck Wade in the left side, deflected off his rib, and sunk in three inches below his breast, just missing his lung. Wade fell back with the momentum of die thrust but raised his pistol and fired point-blank into the NVA's screaming face.

The third wave was avoiding the M-60 fire by running up the slope toward Preacher and Rose. Rose waited for them to get a litde closer and blew the last of the Claymores. Preacher fired at two men who had run past the mines and were about to toss grenades. The first man had pulled the firing wire and was about to throw when his right eye disappeared and the back of his head blew out. He fell beside his primed grenade, never knowing it blew his comrade's legs out from under him. Preacher raised up and put a bullet into the squirming man's head.

Woodpecker and Thumper threw gas, as they'd planned, and waited for the fourth wave, but it didn't come.

The gas and failed attacks had demoralized the remaining men-except for Sergeant Chuong, who stood in the white cloud, with tears running down his face, coughing and yelling for his men to continue the attack.

Colonel Sy, following the soldiers as they ran down the slope in search of protection, slowed to a walk and looked over his shoulder at the pathetic sergeant. His general had been right; they must survive to fight another day.

Rose raised up cautiously and looked behind him. Preacher was kneeling in a pool of blood beside Russian. Wade lay on his stomach with his arm outstretched, holding the dead Czech's hand. "Carl? Carl, you'll be okay. I'm gonna get you home. We're gonna make it."