the Last Run (1987) (25 page)

Black Eagle and Woodpecker moved their gear into the Third Platoon barracks and began unpacking their equipment under the watchful eye of Rose.

"Where you from in the world, Woodpecker?"

"Monroe, Louisiana."

" Where'd ya get them cool tattoos, man?"

Woodpecker smiled proudly, pointing to the colored dragon on his right forearm. "I got this 'un in New Orleans and the panther in Columbus after Jump School. Look mean, huh?"

"Really, they're bad, man. I'm gonna git me a rose put on my arm when I get back to the world. Maybe some boss jump wings too."

Preacher glanced over at the black soldier as he spread his poncho liner on the bed. "You'd be wasting money, Jeremiah, your skin is too dark."

Rose spun around, stabbing the air with his finger. "Don't ever call me by that name, Indian! I wasn' talkin' to your skinny red ass!"

Nonplussed, Preacher smoothed out the nylon material and looked up. "Sorry, Rose, I thought you ..."

"Man, don't talk to me! I ain't said shit to you!"

"I was only trying to ... "

"Shut up, holy man!"

Woodpecker poked Rose's back roughly. "Back off."

Rose spun around, looking up at the tall redhead's face. "Don't you take up for this mutha's slack. He's a holy man and ain't gonna pull no trigger to save yo white ass!"

"Just leave it be, Rose."

"You leave it, man! He ain't got the guts to kill. He'll let you down, man. His holy shit ain't gonna save you. The mutha' shouldn't be here!"

Black Eagle shook his head at Woodpecker pleadingly.

The Louisianan gave Rose a last warning glare and began folding his clothes. The black soldier brushed past Woodpecker and pulled open the barracks door. The man who called him Jeremiah was like his father. He would let him and his team down just like his father had let down the family. Preacher lived on faith, on dreams-but dreams went away on a Saturday and never came back.

Rose stepped out of the barracks and looked over his shoulder. "He ain't gonna pull the trigger, man! He ain't gonna pull the trigger!"

Woodpecker tossed his barracks bag to the floor. "That dude got a chip on his shoulder. I don't know what his problem is but he ain't got no right hasslin' you."

Preacher looked out the screen door toward the road. "I've talked to some of the cadre. Did you know that in Cambodia Rose saw his whole team killed? He was hidden and lay there unable to help. He waited until the NVA patrol began picking over the bodies, then attacked. He killed eight men, Woody. He killed them and instead of escaping back to the Vietnam border he went west, deeper into Cambodia to hunt for more.

"An American unit found him three days later carrying NVA equipment from the men he'd killed. They said all he wanted was more ammunition so he could continue the mission. The unit had to disarm him and bring him back by force."

The thin redhead threw his hands up. "That explains it! The dude is nuts."

Preacher turned around and shook his head. "No, my friend. He is a great warrior. No matter what harsh words he speaks, Rose is a warrior and must be respected."

Woodpecker arched an eyebrow. "Preacher, you respect him all you want, but I'm watchin' his black ass and ain't lettin' him hassle ya."

Preacher lowered his head. "It's my problem."

Woodpecker tossed himself on his bunk and looked up at the ceiling. "No it ain't. We're in this together. Preacher, there's just you and me. We stick together, and nobody hassles us. The other team members seem friendly enough, but you know and I know, we ain't one of them ... not yet."

First Sergeant Demand announced at evening chow that he had a movie for the company as soon as it got dark. At 1830, the assembled men sat on the slope of the hill behind the mess hall, where several white-painted plywood sheets rested against the chow hall wall. The bantam soldier stepped up onto a wooden ammo-box stage in front of the screen and faced the audience.

'Rangers, some of you ain't been to the first sergeant's movies, so I gotta explain the rules. No pissin' on the first sergeant's flowers. If you gotta get rid of the Cokes and beer we providin', you visit my latrines!"

The new men were surprised to hear the old veterans "boo" loudly. The first sergeant raised his hand and the noise ceased immediately.

"The other rule is no abusin' my projectionist, Private Peteroski, with cussin' or throwin' rocks if the film breaks."

Again, the old vets laughed and booed. This time, the new men caught on to the game and booed, too. Demand let the noise build, then raised his hand. "This is a graduation party tonight, so beer and Cokes is free."

The men yelled, "Yeah!"

"Mess sergeant provided free popcorn, but salt is one dollar!"

"Boo!"

"Tonight's movie is one of the first sergeant's favorites, Care and Maintenance of the M-16A-1 RifleV'

Thunderous boos!

"Okay, Rangers, you don't wanna see my movie, we'll see the mess sergeant's favorite. Bambi/"

Again loud boos!

Demand shook his head as if in disgust. "Alright, Rangers, ya don't want his, then we'll show that Hollywood smut they call art. You gonna have to see ol' Gregory Peck in a movie called The Chairman. Roll 'em, Pete!"

The audience hooted and clapped in approval as the old projector began clanking and threw a bright tunnel of light onto the painted wall.

Thumper leaned forward and tapped the two men in front of him. "You guys keep your empty Coke cans. This is going to get interesting."

Woodpecker and Preacher exchanged confused looks and turned to the big soldier. "Why?"

"You'll see. Just keep 'em handy."

Sergeant Wade leaned closer to Thumper as he sat back on the slope. "Where's Rose?"

Thumper rolled his eyes to his right. "He's sulking over by the projector. He already had a run-in with Preacher and Woodpecker."

Music began blaring from the speakers that popped with static.

Wade shook his head. "You gonna talk to him, or me?"

"I already did, but he's really got a thing about Preacher."

"You better talk to Russian, and we'll keep Rose off his back till he gets used to him."

Thumper nodded and leaned back on the slope. Three-one had six good men but they still weren't a team. As long as there was dissension among them they were only partly effective and very vulnerable.

Thumper looked over at the sullen black soldier. Rose would have to get over his mistrust of the Indian because if he didn't, one of them, or maybe the whole team, would pay a horrible price.

"Lieutenant Foley and I will be teaching you both how to fly in the back seat of the L-19 bird dog." He motioned toward Avant. "Brad, you've already flown and know most of the procedures, but the training won't hurt you."

Lieutenant Foley had been working the past two weeks as operations officer and had been busy planning and coordinating the teams' ambush missions. He took off his thick glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Sir, Colonel Ellis from Corps called this evening and said he'd be flying up this week to brief you on an operation."

Shane nodded and stood up. "Let's go get a beer and see Top's movie. Gibson, stay close to the other L-tees and learn the rules."

"Beggin' your pardon, sir?" said the gray-haired lieutenant, not sure he'd heard right.

Shane winked at Avant and smiled. "Just stay close and duck when your fellow officers do."

Gibson, totally bewildered by his commander's warning, began to speak up, but Avant grabbed his arm. "Come on, cousin. Me and Foley will protect you."

Gibson, Avant, and Foley sat a little to the left of the humming projector. They'd had a few beers, as had most of the other assembled men lying on the sloping hill. Gregory Peck had had a miniature receiver implanted on his body and was on his way to China. A low growl could be heard above the soundtrack of the movie as Bitch yanked, chewed, and pulled on one of Russian's bootlaces. Nobody said anything about the dog's noisiness. She was a member of the company and was allowed her shortcomings.

Gregory Peck had just walked through a gateway and a Chinese Communist soldier was questioning him.

It was then that Gibson and the other new men were introduced to the traditional Ranger reception to the first sergeant's movies. As soon as the Communist held up his AK-47 to stop the famous actor, twenty beer cans sailed toward the unknowing guard. They struck the wooden screen with a clatter, followed by yells and screams from the Ranger audience. The camera then shifted to another guard and again beer cans sailed; but this time, many more came from the new men, including a partially-filled can of Gibson's.

It's great! he thought. You get to take out your frustrations on the screen. A few seconds later, the camera zoomed in for a close- up of a banner of Mao. Cans and rocks almost blocked out the picture. The Rangers screamed, hollered, and hooted. Gibson turned to Avant, who was lobbing cans like mortar rounds. He was lying back and laughing so hard that J. D. thought he might bust a gut-muscle. Gibson readied two cans of his own for the next opportune shot.

Major Shane and Sergeant First Class Childs left the movie as the final reel began. They went to Shane's office to discuss the upcoming operation and Colonel Ellis's visit.

Shane spread out a map sheet on his desk. "Jerry, you'll be running the operation on fire base Mustang while I get the officers trained. I figure you'll be out there about eight days, time enough for each team to run two or three patrols. According to the Fourth Division S-3, they've had plenty of activity by local units, so you'll probably have teams in contact. If you think it's gettin' too heavy, give me a call and I'll come out with support from the Fourth Divison."

Childs studied the map a few seconds and looked up. "Sir, the only problem I see is this area west of fire base. TTiere's a village out there. Our guys aren't used to workin' around people."

Shane nodded in understanding. "Yeah, I know. I suggest you put Sergeant Wade's team in that area. They have a lot of experience and know the difference between VC and local friendlies. Fd be afraid to put in an inexperienced team. They'd be too trigger-happy, shoot first and ask questions later."

Childs took a grease pencil and marked beside the village Team 3-1.' "It's done, sir. We'll have the teams move out to the fire base tomorrow and they'll be in the bush the following day. I just hope we get some kills to make 'em thirsty."

Shane picked up an intelligence report and handed it to Childs. "Based on this, I think our teams will get the kills."

Childs read the report and snickered. "Looks like we're gonna have us some veterans pretty quick. The dinks better quit being so open or my boys gonna fiick up their day, big time."

Gregory Peck was being chased by the Chinese Reds. He was trying to get to the Russian border, where Russian troops had just appeared to help him escape. The music was up as loud as it would go to compensate for the Rangers' screaming and yelling. One soldier jumped up to throw a rock and was hit from behind by several cans. As he turned, he was hit by more. The Russians fired mortars and killed several Chinese, again to the hoots and hollers of the audience. Gregory Peck looked as if he might escape when suddenly a large red hole appeared on his forehead . . .

One of the Rangers had filled a plastic bag full of red Kool- Aid and thrown it. When it hit and "killed" Gregory Peck, an even louder yell went up.

In minutes, the movie was over. The laughing men cleaned up the mess and began walking up the hill. J. D. Gibson was still smiling as he strolled with Foley and Avant back to their hootch. Avant threw his arm over J. D.'s shoulder. "Whatcha think, cousin?"

Gibson set his face in a frown. "Shocking behavior. Hardly becoming to gentlemen and officers. I have only one question. When we gonna do it again? That was great!"

Wade lay on his bunk rereading the letter from Ginny he'd received that afternoon. Her neady penned lines were somehow what he'd expected: chatty at first, then direct and simple. She was describing her feelings for him as if she was beside him, talking.

Thumper walked in and sat beside him. "She wrote you already, huh?"

Wade folded the letter and began to put it back in the envelope.

"Yep, she's really something."

"Are you going to write her back?"

"Tomorrow, I'll scribble somethin'."

Thumper lowered his head. "Matt, don't wait till tomorrow. Do it right now. I was gonna write tomorrow, too, but it never came. Do it now when you're thinkin' about her. She went to a lot of trouble to see you in Nha Trang, and she deserves your thanks."

Wade sat up, surprised at Thumper being so serious. "I probably shouldn't have told you about it, Thump."

The big soldier smiled.4 'What are friends for if you can't share a litde happiness?" His smile dissolved quickly. "Friends also share their mistakes, and I made one in not writing back to Mary Ann. Don't make the same mistake, Matt. Take it from a friend. Write her and tell her what you feel."

Wade swung his legs off the bed and stood up. "I'm going to write a letter, my friend, and so are you. Deal?"

Thumper shook his head sadly. "No. It's too late for me."

"Bullshit!" blurted Wade. "It ain't over till the fat lady sings, remember? We're both gonna knock out a couple a pages right now and that's an order. Hell, you're the one who convinced me!"