Sand in the Wind (28 page)

They stood around for a few minutes kidding Hicks and passing the SKS to each other, then Kramer told Harmon to form up the men. As the platoon started along the trail, Chalice was thinking about the SKS. He remembered the way those few Marines had carried them around at the Da Nang airfield on the day he arrived in-country — the superior looks on their faces. He could picture himself strolling around in the same manner — ‘The most wanted souvenir there is, and I’ve got it.’ Realizing he was the only man in the platoon with one, Chalice felt a little guilty about it. He’d only been in-country a few weeks while some of the other men had been there twelve months. If there was any animosity towards him, it was far outweighed by the pride the others took in the fact that a member of their platoon had gotten an SKS, and that there was now one less rifle to shoot at them.

Roads walked the point with Hamilton right behind him. Although being point man usually made him uneasy, there hadn’t been another sign of the Viet Cong and he was in a relaxed but cautious mood. This caused him to set a fairly slow pace, and no one bothered to rush him. The trail petered out and he had to blaze his own for more than an hour, but he preferred doing so because this eliminated the chance of hitting a booby trap. Pushing through a thicket of heavy brush only to be confronted by some steep rocks, he instinctively kept moving along the lower edge, not wasting time to figure out whether to go above or below. As soon as he got to their base, he found himself in a sea of elephant grass well above his head. He held his hands against his chest to protect them from being cut, and moved forward taking short, high steps. Just when he started wondering whether the grass would ever end, it opened onto a group of large, flat boulders separated by wide crevices that necessitated long jumps over them. He slowed down his pace a little in order to make it easier for those behind him. The boulders ended in a small cliff above a clearing.

While deciding how to climb down, his eyes caught the color black — Viet Cong uniforms. Eleven of them were sitting on the edge of the clearing not more than twenty yards away from him. Roads crouched, his heartbeat quickening as a heavy warmth spread within his body. Hurriedly, he aimed his rifle, at the same time feeling a sense of absurdity about what he was doing. With his sights held steady on the back of the nearest Viet Cong, he pulled the trigger. It wouldn’t move! He pulled harder. Finally realizing his rifle was on safe, he clicked it on semiautomatic. Now afraid that the Viet Cong had heard the click, he opened fire without aiming. Instead of the loud, percussive burst of an exploding cartridge, his ears caught the sharp, hollow sound of metal hitting metal — the rifle had misfired.

The Viet Cong scrambled to their feet and headed towards the elephant grass in a panic. Hamilton moved up alongside of Roads and got off a few quick shots aimed below the moving tops of the grass. Roads kneeled next to him thinking, ‘Good, got nothing against these people.’

The rest of the platoon came tearing across the boulders only to see an empty clearing before them. Kramer ordered a search of the elephant grass. They swept through it without finding a trace of the Viet Cong. When they reached a path, Kramer told Valdez to put Charlie Squad at the point and head the platoon back to camp.

Valdez figured that this was Hicks’s lucky day, so he made him point man. He soon regretted his choice. Hicks knew the slim chances of one man tripping two booby traps in the same day, and he set a rapid pace. All the men, especially those at the tail end of the column, were out of breath within a few minutes. Only the psychological advantage of knowing that they were headed back to their perimeter enabled them to keep up. The fast pace became more of a joke than a sore point, and the frequency of the men’s bantering complaints and curses caused Kramer to order them to keep the noise down. After an hour of steady marching, he thought about calling a five minute break. Spirits seemed high and stopping might give the Viet Cong time to set up an ambush ahead of them. Kramer decided to wait.

Just as the front of the column started up a steep ridge and the tail end of it was descending the preceding slope with most of the platoon strung out in the barren valley between, a burst of rifle fire came from above and behind them. Kramer’s first thought was to have the men take cover. But the valley floor offered none.

“MOVE IT!” he ordered.

The sniper fire continued in short bursts as they ran. When the last man had reached the heavier brush of the slope, Kramer halted the column and told the men to take cover. He turned to Kovacs. “Doesn’t seem like much of a shot.”

“He’s just harassing us.”

Kramer called out asking if anybody thought they knew where the fire was coming from. Receiving no reply, he turned back to Kovacs. “You think there’s only one of them?”

“That’s what it sounds like.”

“No use calling in any fire then.”

Kovacs was stretched out on the ground nonchalantly lighting a cigarette. He offered the pack to Kramer. “Just be a waste of time.”

Kramer shook his head at the cigarettes. “That’s what I think. Let’s get out of here.” He turned to Ski who was sitting in front of them. “Tell ’em to move-out fast.”

In a few seconds the entire platoon was traveling at a dead run, and the sniper fire started again. The trail curved around a small knoll at the top of the ridge. Just as Kramer reached the front edge of the knoll, a loud blast came from the opposite side and some light debris rained down on him.

“
What was that?
” Kovacs yelled across the knoll.

Valdez’s voice rang out, “Corpsman up. Booby trap.”

Kramer nervously looked around. Seeing he was the only one standing, he began to kneel. The corpsman rushed by him, and he and Kovacs followed. By the time the three of them reached the head of the column, the other corpsman had already split Hicks’s trousers exposing his blood-covered legs. Stung by the sight, Kramer blamed himself. His distress was apparent, and as soon as the corpsman injected Hicks with morphine, he turned to Kramer and said, “It’s not as bad as it looks.” Both corpsmen started wrapping the legs in bandages.

Kramer turned around to call to Milton only to find himself standing face to face with him. “Call in a medivac chopper and a casualty report.” He then turned to Valdez. “Anyone else hit?”

“Chief got a scratch on his elbow.”

Kramer looked towards Chief who was wrapping a bandage on his own forearm. “Any shrapnel inside?”

“Don’t think so. Just a scratch.”

“What type of booby trap was it?”

“Sounded like a frag.”

As Chief said this, the sniper fire began again. Kramer turned to Milton. “Call in an air strike on that motherfucker. Make sure you get our coordinates right.” He then said to Kovacs, “I really fell for it, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, he sucked us in. You can’t outguess Charlie all the time.” Kovacs told Harmon to have the men clear an LZ. A few minutes later, Sugar Bear came running up to the corpsmen. “Can one of you guys come over to the LZ? Graham cut his leg pretty bad.”

Kovacs asked disgustedly, “How’d the asshole do that?”

“I can’t figure it out. He must of thought his leg was a tree stump and gave it a whack with his machete.”

One of the corpsmen went to the LZ with Sugar Bear. Kramer told Milton to call in another casualty report before following them. Just as he got there, two broncos — propeller-driven planes with mounted machine guns — roared overhead.

Graham sat with sweat dripping from his face as the corpsman wrapped his leg. Sugar Bear, Forsythe, and Chalice stood around shaking their heads at him. “How bad did Hicks get it?” Forsythe asked the corpsman.

“Not too bad. There’s a lot of shrapnel in him, but nothing’s ripped away.”

“I’d rather have shrapnel in me than rifle lead,” Chalice commented.

“Why’s that?” Forsythe asked.

“I’d rather have a lot of little scars than one big one.”

The corpsman looked up. “Those holes might be little now, but by the time the doctors get that shrapnel out they’ll be plenty big.”

“Well, at least he gets a vacation,” Chalice remarked.

“Better than that, he’s got a sure ticket home.”

A loud burst of machine gun fire from one of the broncos sent Chalice to his knees. While Forsythe looked down at him with amusement, he got back on his feet, saying meekly, “I’m glad they’re not shooting at us.”

“You should be. Those guys are pretty good. They usually put on quite a show.”

The broncos proved Forsythe right. They took turns diving in at treetop level and strafing the area — seeming to wait until the last second before banking to avoid crashing into the ridges. As Chalice and Forsythe stood watching, Tony 5 walked up behind them and asked, “You dudes don’t mind helping us clear this LZ, do you?” They joined the rest of the platoon in time to find the area already cleared and the medivac chopper circling.

Graham and Hicks were loaded aboard seconds after the helicopter landed. As soon as it took off, Alpha Squad led the way back towards camp with Childs at the point. The last slope before the lowlands was quite steep. He had to drag his feet to slow himself. After losing what there was of a trail, he led the men through some thick, waist-high brush. A few yards into it, his ankle caught on a sharp object and he fell flat on his stomach. Childs sat up to rub his ankle and saw what he had tripped over — a two hundred pound bomb. “Hold up. I’ve got a dud two hundred pounder here.”

Kramer made his way to the front of the column. “Where is it?”

“Next to your boot.”

Kramer backed away from the bomb while saying, “Nice work, Childs. I don’t see how you spotted it.”

“I make it a point to keep my eyes open,” Childs answered, still rubbing his ankle.

Kramer turned to Harmon. “Have somebody set a charge under it.”

Harmon called out for a stick of C-4 and a blasting cap. When none was forthcoming, he asked again only to find out that nobody in his squad had brought any. “That’s just fucking outstanding. Instead of leaving it in camp, why don’t you guys mail it home. That way your mothers can send it to you when you need it.” Somebody in Bravo had brought some along, and it was passed up the column. Tony 5 stayed behind to light the fuse, while the rest of the platoon moved out at a dead run. This proved unnecessary because the charge never went off.

Second Platoon got back to their perimeter an hour before dusk. Alpha had the ambush, and Harmon walked over to Kramer’s hootch to find out the site. Kovacs was sitting in front cleaning his rifle while Kramer looked over his map. “It’s a short one tonight,” Kramer said as he pointed to the map. “Just go straight across the road and set up on the last tree line before the river.”

As Harmon studied the map, Kovacs said, “Don’t forget the Little People.” Lately they had been taking four Arvins on each ambush, but Charlie Squad had forgotten them the night before. Harmon nodded and left. On the way back to his squad, he looked up at the sky and saw a solid canopy of rain clouds.

A few minutes before dusk, Harmon ordered Alpha to saddle up. The men moved around sluggishly as they put on their gear. Tony 5 called to Guns Squad, and Pablo and Sinclaire walked over with their machine gun. The men were tired. Aside from some grumbling, they remained silent as they lined up.

Tony assigned Forsythe the point. Four Arvins were waiting for them at the far edge of the perimeter. Forsythe motioned them into the column. He found the tree line where they were supposed to set in, but it offered little cover and poor fields of fire. Harmon told him to head up the river a little farther. They moved another fifty yards without finding a better location. The front of the column peeled back around and stopped at the original spot. Forsythe and Harmon walked down the river a few yards by themselves. The men waited restlessly, tired and anxious to set in.

A light drizzle started. Chalice moved to the side to see what was going on. Most of the men in the column were kneeling. Barely enough moonlight glowed through the clouds to outline Pablo’s upright silhouette. He stood in profile — motionless with his machine gun on his shoulder. The rest of the men began getting to their feet. Finding nothing better, Harmon had decided to set in where they were. He divided the squad into two positions, giving a third position to the Arvins.

Chalice sat down and took out his mosquito repellent. Payne smelled it and stuck out his palm indicating that he wanted some. The sound of the rain as it pattered on the brush became louder, but over it Chalice could hear the Arvins talking in loud whispers. The thought of them giving away the ambush site made him nervous. Someone walking in a hunched position came towards him. “Chalice,” Harmon’s voice whispered.

“Over here.”

“The Gooks are making too much noise. You better set-in with them and keep them quiet.”

Chalice moved as quietly as possible to the Arvin position. He explained to four sets of smiling teeth that he was going to stand watch with them. Just as he got them quieted, one lit up a cigarette while making a crude effort to cup the match. Chalice pointed towards him. “Numba ten.” The Arvin sitting next to Chalice touched the other’s arm and got him to put out the cigarette.

They gave Chalice the last watch and he lay back to get some sleep. The rain had just stopped, but at that moment it started again, harder than before. Placing his soft cover over his face, he tried to fall asleep. Though he was completely exhausted from the day’s march, he lay shivering for more than an hour, returning many times from the verge of sleep as rain beat down upon him. His neck sank into the mud and he finally sat up in disgust. Wringing out his hat, he decided to move from the puddle he was lying in. He felt around with his hands and found a small clump of grass to lay his head on. The rest of his body remained in a puddle a few inches deep. The grass tickled the back of his neck while chills ran through his limbs. Changing position every few minutes, he was able to get a little sleep; but the next morning he was more tired than he had been the night before. It was still raining when he got back to his hootch. After taking his clothes off and laying them on top, he crawled in and wrapped himself in his poncho liner. Within minutes he dropped off into a deep sleep.