the Last Run (1987) (52 page)

Thumper checked Gibson's neck for a pulse and closed his eyes. Despite the bullets that had struck him in the stomach and side, the young officer was somehow still alive.

Rose was taking a step to help Thumper when a shot rang out. Rose stumbled forward, grabbing at his back, and fell in front of Preacher. Woodpecker screamed, "Motherfucker!" and swung the M-60, firing at the running NVA who had jumped up from behind a tree. The soldier zigzagged down the slope followed by the red tracers of the 60 and dived for cover out of sight.

Rose lay on his stomach, looking up with a strange grin at Preacher and spoke in a tired voice: "They got the Rose, man."

Preacher grabbed his friend and rolled him over. He tore open his shirt, "No. God. No!" Frantically he put his hand over the one-inch exit hole to stop the blood flow.

Rose rolled his head back and forth along the ground, shaking violently. "Preacher . . . Preacher, pray for me. Pray for . . ." He stopped shaking.

The tears that streamed down Preacher's face left trails in the grime on his cheeks. He tore at the plastic of a sterile bandage. His hands shook as he looked at Rose's still face. It was no use. His friend was dead. The bandage fell from his hands as he fulfilled Rose's last request and began to pray for him.

Thumper eased Wade over on his back to check his bayonet wound, but the sergeant brushed the big man's hand away. He rolled his head to the side and looked at Russian and Rose. "They're gonna make it, aren't they?"

Thumper shut his eyes and shook his head. "They're gone, Matt."

Wade frantically broke from the big soldier's grasp and hugged Russian's lifeless body. "No, they can't die! I promised! I... I promised."

Thumper lowered his eyes. There was nothing he could do or say. His sergeant was delirious with pain and couldn't be reasoned with.

Wade rocked Russian's body back and forth. "You'll be okay, Cart. You and Rose are gonna make it."

Chuong ran down the slope to the group of remaining men who stood in groups beside the wounded. "There are only a few Yankees left. I shot one as he stood up! We can take them now!"

Colonel Sy stepped forward. "No, it is over! We must help the wounded and leave!"

Chuong spun around, facing his men. "The Yankees killed your comrades. Can you let their deaths go unavenged? The Yankees are finished, they ..." Chuong stopped in mid-sentence; a large group of soldiers was approaching. He recognized the first man immediately. It was his company commander, Captain Trung.

The sweat-soaked officer saluted Colonel Sy and motioned behind him. "The regiment commander has sent us to help destroy the Yankees."

Colonel Sy shook his head. "No, captain, enough have died. You must help the wounded and leave the fortress."

Captain Trung glared at the colonel. "My regiment commander has ordered me. You do not have the authority to change his orders." Trung's eyes shifted from the colonel to Sergeant Chuong. "Where are the Yankees?"

Preacher raised his hand to his face and ran two blood-covered fingers down his cheek. The blood was Rose's. He dipped his hand into the sticky pool beside Russian and made two more streaks down his other cheek. Reaching out, he touched both of his friends and began the Fallen Warrior's Chant of his ancestors. The spirits of the two men would join as they made their long journey. They would be together as warriors should be. Together forever, they would be honored by coundess other fighters who would understand that their deaths had meaning.

At hearing the sorrowful chant, Woodpecker turned painfully and lowered his gaze to the small Indian. He turned to face the trail again, sniffing back his tears, and began humming along.

Colonel Sy walked to the outcrop and stood over the general. The Tall One was dead, but his face showed no sign that he had suffered pain in those last moments. Sy felt strangely relieved for the old man. The awesome responsibility that the general had endured for so many years was finally over.

Sy pulled a ground cloth over the body and walked over to Private Nuu, who was lying beside the rock wall. The colonel knelt down and took the boy's hand.

"You must be strong and endure a litde longer. I have ordered the evacuation. Soon we will be leaving and will find you medical help. I'm sorry we have nothing to give you for the pain."

Nuu's face was flushed and his jaw taut from clenching his teeth. He looked up at the colonel and spoke with tears in his eyes. "Is there a victory for us . . . An end?"

Sy looked at the bodies and wounded lying about him and thought of the soldiers lying still on the ridge. He could hardly bear to look at the young man as he shook his head. "For the soldier, there is no victory, there is only survival."

The wind from the helicopter's rotor kicked up a dust cloud as the big machine lowered onto the ridge. Childs jumped out first. Shane and the others followed. They ran a few yards and got down to wait for the next bird.

Childs brought the handset up. "Three-one, this is Rescue- one. Over."

Thumper picked up the radio. "This is Three-one. Go."

Childs turned his head to avoid the biting dirt kicked up by the approaching second Slick and spoke quickly. "We're on the ground and on the way. Hang tough, Ranger!"

Captain Trang had brought the first platoon with him. Combining his troops with those remaining of the Second and Third Platoons, he had forty-three men for the attack. He heard from Sergeant Chuong how the past attacks had failed and decided to place his two machine guns on the trail to the north. He would have them fire as his soldiers crawled forward. There would be no charge. He wouldn't expose any of his men until they were almost on top of the Yankees' position. He motioned for the machine gunners to move into position and waved his troops forward.

Wade lay on his side, still holding Russian's hand. Preacher had cut off Wade's shirt to bandage the bayonet wound, but instead decided to place the compress over a fragmentation wound that was still bleeding. Wade's pants were soaked with blood from the frag wounds in his buttocks and legs. None of the wounds by itself could kill him, but Preacher worried his sergeant might die of blood loss from the combination of all of them.

Thumper wasn't better off. His body was so stiff he could barely move his arms without shuddering in pain. And Woodpecker bit down on a rolled-up portion of his parachute scarf, his eyes watering in silent agony. Preacher had just finished checking Woodpecker's wounds when he heard a shout that made him shut his eyes in relief and thank his savior.

"Rangers comin' in!"

T\vo 60 gunners ran up to the boulders and took up positions beside the rocks. Then Childs stepped into the opening between the boulders, and the sight and smell before him seared into his brain forever. The small open area in the center of rock formation was carpeted in shell casings, strewn equipment, blood, vomit, and his dead and wounded Rangers, covered in gritty rock dust and splattered with blood. The staring eyes of the survivors were distant and emotionless.

Childs took two steps forward, as if entering hallowed ground, and knelt by Rose and Russian. The smell of blood was overpowering. Wade looked up. "Get Carl to a doctor," he said. "He'll be okay if he gets to a doctor."

Shane ran up with the others and put his hand on Childs's shoulder. "Come on, Jerry, let's get 'em home."

Childs stood abrupdy and barked, "Litter teams pick 'em up and move out! Security teams move into their old positions and keep an eye out!"

Shane looked away from his wounded men, feeling sick. In front of their position NVA bodies were stacked and sprawled. He'd never envisioned anything like this. The sight before him was beyond imagination.

Shane shivered and began to turn around when a bullet cracked by his head. A second tore through his ear and grazed the back of his head. He fell backward behind the protection of the chipped and scarred boulders just as the other enemy machine gun opened up. All four of the security team's machine guns returned fire, spewing out a curtain of red tracers down the trail.

Childs and the men carrying the wounded were lying on the trail on the other side of the boulders. Childs, realizing the big rocks were blocking the fire, rose up and yelled out, "Move it! Keep going!"

He grabbed the handset in his leg pocket. "Rescue Flight lead, this is Rescue Ground. Bring in the Slicks. We've picked up wounded, and we're proceeding to LZ. Break, Gun lead, we're under fire and need support to disengage. I'm marking our position with pen gun flare. Enemy located north of our position, fifty meters."

Childs took out the small black cylinder from his shirt pocket and screwed in a red cartridge. He pointed the device toward a gap in the tree limbs high overhead and pushed the spring-loaded firing-pin knob with his thumb. Psssssst! The flare burst a hundred meters direcdy above him.

Preacher had remained in position at the boulders as the Rangers picked up his team. He would stay until his friends were safe on board the chopper. When he saw Shane fall, he crawled over to him to check his wounds. The major sat shaking his head, trying to stop the spinning sensation. Preacher lifted his head and inspected the damage. Shane had lost a piece of his lobe and had a narrow gash on the back of his head where the bullet had grazed him. Bright red blood from the ear wound cascaded down his neck. He was stunned but alright.

Shane shook his head again and brushed Preacher's hands away. He spun around just as Childs crawled back into the boulders. "The wounded?" he asked the sergeant.

Childs threw his head toward the trail. "They're moving them to the bird. What the hell happened to you?"

Shane frowned as if embarrassed. "Never mind. Ya got Guns coming in?"

Childs nodded and crawled up behind the gunners. They had ceased fire, as had the NVA guns.

"When the gunships make their run, you men back out and haul your ass outta here back to the LZ! You," he pointed to the closest gunner, "leave your gun and ammo. I'll fire a belt to cover your butts, then catch up."

Shane sat up about to protest when the lead gunship streaked overhead and unleashed four rockets.

Childs yelled, "Move it!"

The four Rangers jumped up and began running as the rockets exploded in the canopy.

Shane began to crawl toward Childs, but the sergeant pointed viciously at Preacher. "Get the major out of here, Indian! Now!"

The miniguns of the second gunship rattied overhead, sending a barrage of bullets into the forest.

Preacher grabbed Shane's arm and yanked him up. Shane felt dizzy and fell back to his knees. Preacher pulled him up again. "Come on, sir, move your feet!"

Captain Trung had halted his men when he heard the four machine guns open up from the American position. Sergeant Chuong had told them there was only one. He was not about to move forward into a bee's nest. The close rocket and machine gun passes by the gunships had solidified his decision not to proceed with the attack, but then he heard a yell and saw Chuong rise up, shooting. The remaining men of Second Platoon hadn't seen him wave to get them down and were continuing the attack.

Trung yelled to his men to stand fast and turned to watch the slaughter.

Childs sighted over the 60 and pulled the trigger. Three of the nine attacking men went down in a single long burst. Childs swung the barrel slighdy and fired another burst when the gun jammed. He yanked a grenade from his harness and pulled the pin, then crawled backward and tossed the grenade toward the rushing NVA. He saw Woodpecker's 60 to his right and jumped for it as the grenade exploded.

Chuong was knocked down by the man in front of him, who took most of the shrapnel, but three more of his men were still on their feet and almost to the boulder. Chuong jumped up and ran screaming to join them.

Childs raised up from behind the boulders firing the 60 from the hip. The surprised attackers were riddled only a few feet from the smoking barrel. Childs saw the last man coming from a few yards farther back and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened; it was empty.

Chuong lowered his rifle, about to fire, when his head snapped back from the impact of an M-16 bullet hitting just below his nose and crashing through his brain.

Childs spun around. Preacher, twenty feet behind him, was lowering his rifle. He'd taken the major up the trail, where he ran into three Rangers. Everyone had been lifted out, and the last bird was sitting on the LZ waiting. The three ran back to see if they could help. Shane took one of them, and the other two followed Preacher, who went for Childs. Preacher outran the men and had arrived just as Childs fired the last of his ammo.

Childs broke into a run toward Preacher, but he had barely made two steps when he was almost cut in two by a fusillade of bullets. The old veteran felt no pain as his riddled body crumpled to the ground.

Captain Trung had ordered his men to attack as soon as it became apparent that only one man held the position. The lead attackers swarmed over the rocks after Preacher as he bolted down the trail yelling for the other two Rangers, still forty yards off, to turn and run.

Preacher dropped his rifle and sprinted as fast as he could. He'd run a lot of races under pressure, but never for his life. Bullets cracked by his ear, but he never broke stride as he churned his arms and legs for all they were worth.

Shane jumped out of the vibrating helicopter when he caught sight of two Rangers running toward him. He couldn't hear over the chopper's screaming engine, but he knew by their expressions and pace that they were taking fire. He then saw Preacher. The Indian's mouth was open and dirt was kicking up around him from bullet strikes.