Sand in the Wind (11 page)

“Yeah. Kovacs?”

“Yeah. Don’t make any mistakes with the radio.”

“I won’t.”

“If you see some cat walking around in black PJ’s, don’t wish him good night, just blow him away.”

“Haven’t seen anything like that yet.”

“Don’t worry, he’s there. It ain’t often you see Charlie, but he sees you every day.”

Kovacs remained silent for a few seconds, and Chalice finally asked, “Sarge, you ever kill any of them?”

“Quite a — What the fuck kinda question is that? Whata you think we’re doing with these Gooks, playing tag?”

“I just wanted —”

“I know what you wanted — to know what it’s like. Well it ain’t no big thing. It’s one of the rules.
  
.
 
.
 
. Listen Professor, you seem all right most of the time, but I ain’t sure. I’ll give you some dope you won’t find in those books you’re humpin’. I’ve done some movin’. Every place I hit, the rules are different. The trick is to learn the rules before they learn you. Nam ain’t no bargain, but the rules are a snap. There ain’t but one: Kill them before they kill you. And there’s a catch, too: The cocksucker who breaks the rule don’t always pay the price. Don’t
ever
let me think there’s a chance I’ll have to pay it for you.” As Kovacs stood up, he grabbed Chalice’s shoulder to show he wasn’t angry. “I’m gonna crash. Take it easy
 
.
 
.
 
.
 
and be careful with the radio.”

The company was ready to move out a few minutes after dawn. Kovacs called Second Platoon together. “Here’s the story. We’re gonna move down the road one kilometer, then turn off to the left and head for the base of the mountains. That’s about three more klicks. We’ll move along the mountains until the whole column is parallel to the road, then we sweep back on-line. The last tree line is about one klick from the road. We’ll probably set-in there for a couple of hours.”

Chalice said to Forsythe. “That doesn’t sound too bad, only six kilometers. We did about ten yesterday.”

“Yeah, but those ten klicks were on a road. Today we move through rice paddies and brush. That’s no picnic. We’ll be moving on-line, and when you do that you don’t go around heavy brush, you go through it.”

Kovacs called for everybody to form up. The company again moved out in two columns. Chalice’s leg and shoulder muscles felt ready to tear away from his bones, but he was glad they had started early so as to take advantage of the early morning chill. It seemed only a few minutes had passed before they turned off the road towards the mountains. As Chalice stared at them, he felt more confident, telling himself that three kilometers didn’t seem too far.

The rice paddies began about fifty yards from the road. The first dike was only a few feet high. Chalice put one foot on it and hopped over. The water came halfway up his thighs. Not used to the weight of his pack, he stumbled and almost lost his balance. Moving through that much water was hard enough in itself, but the foot of soft mud underneath it made matters worse. Before he’d gone ten yards, he knew what Forsythe had meant. He felt as if he were walking on a huge piece of flypaper.

When he stepped up on the next dike his pants legs bulged with water. Hamilton yelled to him, “Unblouse your trousers and roll up the cuffs.’' “What about the leeches?”

“Fuck the leeches. You can’t carry around ten gallons of water.”

The dikes were only twenty yards apart. When Chalice reached the next one, he unbloused his pants legs. The man in front of him had already crossed the next dike. Chalice hurried to catch up. He could now move more easily, but by the time he caught up he was out of breath. After traveling through a kilometer of rice paddies, they came to a hundred yards of high ground. Chalice took a few steps on it and found the difference hard to believe. ‘If only I’d known, yesterday would have been a pleasure.’ When they reached the rice paddies again, he dreaded jumping off the dike. Twenty yards into them, he was more exhausted than he’d been all morning.

Hamilton again offered some advice. “Don’t follow the trail of the guy in front of you, make your own. Step on the rice shoots. You won’t sink in the mud so deep.” Hamilton’s advice helped, but not much.

It took another hour to reach the base of the mountains. The last half kilometer had been on high ground and relatively easy. The two columns meshed before turning left along the foothills. When the entire company had made the turn and was parallel to the road, the order to hold up was given. Chalice noticed the men checking for leeches. He pulled up his left pants leg and found three huge ones, bloated with blood, attached just above his sock. “Hey Hamilton, how do you get these things off?”

“Here, use this bug juice.” As soon as the insect repellent touched them, the leeches dropped off, leaving his calf smeared with blood.

The word was passed to start sweeping. Chalice concentrated on staying even with the men to each side of him. There was constant yelling about keeping the line straight. The men moving on the better ground tended to get ahead of the men moving through the deeper paddies, so they’d have to stop every few minutes to let the others catch up. As the company approached the first tree line, Chalice thought about what he’d been taught. ‘Don’t go through breaks in the brush — might be booby-trapped. Better to go right through the brush than around it. Look for trip wires, but keep your head up. Have rifle ready to shoot.’

Twenty yards into the tree line the vegetation got thicker. Continually tripping over the undergrowth, Chalice decided to put his rifle on safe rather than risk an accidental discharge. He found himself more worried about keeping up than about tripping a booby trap. ‘No wonder so many guys get killed. Get so tired you don’t give a shit what you step on.’

The order was passed for everybody to hold up until the line straightened. Some heavy brush lay in front of Chalice. He stared at it disgustedly, chest heaving and thankful for the rest. When given the word to start moving, he pushed his way forward. The brush thickened. He struggled with all his might, hardly making any progress. Thorns covered the branches. He had to ignore them. The brush enveloped him, squeezing tighter, defining his shape and pressing into his skin like thousands of tiny spikes. It crackled loudly around him with each small movement. Choking, unable to get enough air, he had to stop struggling for a second. The silence surprised and frightened him. He couldn’t hear or see the rest of his squad. They’d left him behind. He thrashed forward nervously. His feet stomped up and down, almost in place. Tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth, he couldn’t breathe. Again he had to stop, dizzy and exhausted. Only the thick brush kept him from falling to the ground.

“
Chalice!
” Tony 5 shouted.

“Over here.”

“You’re way behind! Get up here! You’re holding back the whole company.”

“I can’t get through this brush.”

“For Christ sake, go back and come around it.” He turned and flung himself forward. The way back out proved easier than he had expected. Circling around, he came even with the rest of the platoon. Tony glared at him. “Man! Don’t get behind like that.”

“Okay, I’m sorry.”

“You will be if Charlie ever catches you straggling like that.
  
.
 
.
 
. You really did a job on your arms.”

Chalice looked at them, noticing for the first time that they were covered with blood. He quickly pulled out the thorns as the company began moving again. They hadn’t gone more than a few yards before Tony 5 yelled, “Kovacs, I got a bunker here.”

Kovacs yelled back, “Hold up, everybody. Go ahead and frag it, Tony.”

Tony 5 called Chalice over. “Watch how I do this.” The bunker was so well camouflaged that Chalice came within a step of falling into it. The entrance was a hole barely large enough for a man to pass through. Tony took a grenade out of his pouch and pulled the pin. “When I let go of this frag, hit the deck.” He lobbed it in the bunker, yelled “Fire in the hole,” and dove to the ground. The blast filled the air with dirt and small rocks. Tony told Forsythe to check out the bunker.

When he got inside, Forsythe yelled, “Nothing here,” and crawled back out.

The pace began to slow as more bunkers were found. Each one had to be checked. Somebody would call out “Fire in the hole,” then a grenade would go off. Everything had gone all right for a half hour when suddenly a grenade went off without any warning.

Tony 5’s head shot up and he looked in the direction of the blast, thinking, ‘booby trap.’

Kovacs yelled,
“
What the fuck was that?
”

A meek voice replied, “Fire in the hole.”

“Well
no
shit,” Kovacs called back, and everybody started laughing. The incident took Chalice’s mind off his fatigue, and he felt a lot stronger.

Around noon they reached the last tree line and set-in under its shade. Most of the men were in a talkative mood, and they kidded each other as they opened cans of C-rations. Kovacs called the platoon together. By the look on his face, it was evident that he had some good news. “The company’s gonna pull out around four o’clock. Our platoon stays behind to set up an ambush in case any Gooks are following us. When the company leaves, I want everyone to keep hidden in the tree line. Tomorrow morning we’ll hump over to Liberty Bridge and set up some bridge security. The CP is gonna be at Ladybird State Park, and we’ll be by ourselves.”

As the men dispersed, they seemed satisfied with the news. Forsythe sat down and started cooking a can of ham and eggs. Chalice sat down next to him and opened a can of franks and beans. “Why’s everyone so happy about going to Liberty Bridge? Is it close to here?”

“No, it’s a good five klicks; but since it’s on the river we’ll get to take baths, and the ground is white sand instead of mud — easy to dig in and cleaner. The important thing is the CP is setting-in at Ladybird State Park. That means the captain and gunny won’t be around to fuck with us.”

“What’s Ladybird Park?”

“A sandy place on the riverbank with a lot of shade trees. It’s pretty nice. That’s why the CP always sets-in there.
  
.
 
.
 
. I’m the one who named it.” Chalice unwrapped a heat tab and set it under his can of franks and beans. He lit the tab and leaned back against a tree. A stiff breeze rustled the brush around him. For the first time since he’d gotten off the hill, he felt relaxed. A few minutes later he took the can off of the heat tab. Surprisingly, the franks and beans tasted delicious. As he dropped the empty can, Chalice said, “Good company, good food, a big shade tree, and a nice breeze; what more could you possibly want?”

An hour after the company pulled out, Kovacs called the squad leaders together. “If any VC are around, they’re probably over there,” he said pointing to the mountains. “I’d set up an L-shaped ambush, but they can approach from too many directions. We’ll have to set-in at the bow in the tree line. Our fields of fire won’t be too hot, but it’ll be safer.” The squad leaders nodded agreement and he assigned them their responsibilities.

The men hid in the tree line until a few minutes before dusk, then took up their positions. Chalice started digging a foxhole, but Forsythe stopped him. “This is an ambush. You never dig in on an ambush.” Glad to get the news, he flipped away his entrenching tool. As Chalice sat watching the sun dip behind the mountains, mosquitoes began to swarm around him. Forsythe saw him slapping them and handed him a bottle of insect repellent.

Kovacs had just walked over to Tony 5, and now Tony came towards their position with a disgusted look on his face. “We just got word over the radio that somebody spotted a whole company of NVA in the foothills. There’s about two hundred, and the flyboys are probably gonna work out on ’em. We better dig in; two two-man holes. Chalice, start digging one for you and me. Hurry up.”

The ground was hard. Chalice didn’t finish digging until an hour after sunset. When he dropped the E-tool on the back lip of the foxhole, it landed with a clang. “What was that?” Tony asked.

They both felt around in the dark until Chalice found a large metal object about a foot-and-a-half long. “Here it is.”

As Tony cleared the dirt away, he kept saying, “Oh no.”

“What is it?”

“A dud 105 shell.”

Chalice ran his hand across it. “What’re we gonna do?”

“We can’t move it. It might go off.”

“But it’s right in back of our hole. What if a round hits it?”

“We’ll never know what happened. I’ll guarantee you that. Listen Professor, if we get hit tonight, don’t fire your rifle. The muzzle flash’ll attract their fire. Just keep heaving frags.” A series of loud blasts came from the foothills. “Let’s hope they’re dropping those bombs in the right place.” The bombing continued halfway through the night. During his watch, Chalice kept looking in the direction of the explosions. Tony 5 had pointed out the different types of bombs being dropped, and now that he was alone Chalice identified them to himself. There was a large billow of orange flame — ‘Napalm.’ This was followed by some louder blasts and some white flashes — ‘Regular bombs, HE.’ He then heard a small explosion followed by many more small explosions — ‘Must be Corfam.’ The first explosion was the casing scattering hundreds of small grenades which exploded a few seconds later when they hit the ground.

Aside from the bombing, the night passed quietly. Chalice stared at the terrain around him, trying to imagine what an attack would have been like. His curiosity caused him to feel cheated. What he had feared the night before became his disappointment the morning after. Then he spotted the 105 round on the edge of the foxhole and figured it was just as well. The CP called on the radio and said the bombing had killed over a hundred NVA, and that Second Platoon was to go up and see if they could find anything interesting. At first the men grumbled about the three additional hours of marching, but soon thoughts of easy souvenirs buoyed their spirits and made them anxious to get started.

Kovacs kept the pace slow and there was very little complaining along the way. Hamilton thought about finding an SKS — the Russian design, Chinese Communist-made rifle that some of the NVA carried. Unlike the AK-47, it was semiautomatic and could be kept as a souvenir. Chalice thought about what the bombs must have done to the NVA. He pictured a hundred bodies lying scattered on the ground; some missing limbs or decapitated, some charred by napalm. His thoughts tinged more with curiosity than horror; he was anxious to reach the spot where the bombs had dropped. They crossed over the first set of hills and walked through an area of fresh bomb craters without seeing any bodies. Hamilton warned Chalice not to step on any of the shiny metallic objects scattered on the ground. They were dud Corfam bombs. Chalice heard Tony 5 say, “Not a fucking thing, not even a blood trail, they didn’t get a fucking Gook.”