the Last Run (1987) (2 page)

Wade was about to step oif and follow Thumper when he heard the distinctive "click" of an M-16's selector switch. He spun around, grabbed Robbins's fatigue shirt, and jerked him to within inches of his face. The sergeant's stare made the cherry cringe.

"Don't ever do that again!" Wade whispered harshly. "You never push a selector with your thumb. That click you just made could be heard fifty feet away. Hold the damn thing and turn it slowly and it won't make noise." Wade stepped back and pointed his finger at the offender's face. "And don't ever take your weapon off safe until you have a target. The point man is the only man who has his weapon on 4auto.' You'll shoot somebody if you trip or get spooked." Wade's eyes softened as he realized the young soldier was shaking. "Look, I know this is new to you and it's not all your fault. But you gotta watch and learn quick. Don't move, don't fart, don't do anything unless I do. You stay as close to me as stink on shit and you'll get through this mission. You got it?"

Robbins lowered his eyes in submission and nodded. Wade felt sorry for the kid and put his hand on his shoulder. "No sweat, you'll get the hang of it. Now turn around and tell Stevens what I told you. And whisper."

As Wade was about to turn, he noticed Russian looking at him with a slight grin. Wade smiled. The Czech had given him the same lesson seven months before.

Private First Class Bill Robbins wasn't in awe anymore. At first he'd been spellbound by the huge teaks and mahoganies that soared to over a hundred feet and blocked out almost all sunlight. The thick vines, clinging and twisting in every direction, and the giant ferns were like those he'd seen in pictures in National Geographic, but the pictures hadn't prepared him for the misery. Five minutes in the jungle was enough to make it all look the same. Vibrant shades of green became monotonous blurs as his eyes fixed on the back of Seigeant Wade walking five feet in front of him.

The team had been moving for two hours, but to Robbins it felt as if they'd humped for two days. Without a doubt, the past fourteen hours had been the most miserable in his life.

Yesterday's helicopter insertion and the short move to the night laager position had been scary but strangely exciting. Then came the night, and the excitement had quickly given way to terror. The others had slept while he'd lain awake shivering and praying on the damp ground. It had grown so dark that he couldn't see his hand in front of his face. Shutting or opening his eyes made no difference. And then came the sounds; horrifying cries and screeches of unknown animals and insects. Close to midnight, what sounded like a platoon of NVA crept toward the laager. He awoke Rose. The angry soldier had listened for only a minute, then slugged him. "Ya dumb shit, that's the wind blowing the branches in the trees," the young black man had said.

It wasn't the wind-Robbins knew it. It had been NVA. For the rest of the night he'd balled up, waiting to die, only to feel unseen creatures crawling over his feet and legs and buzzing insects biting his face and hands.

The shivering horror of the night before seemed like a bad dream now as he grew certain he would pass out from the heat.

The team broke from the rain forest into an expanse of head- high elephant grass. Rose found an animal path and they followed it. The thick grass stalks blocked all moving air. The sun's heat beat down unmercifully and made the small path a sweltering torture chamber.

Robbins wiped the sweat from his eyes with the soaked olive drab towel around his neck and leaned forward to again try and catch up to Wade. The twenty-five-pound radio he carried in his rucksack along with the rest of his fighting gear was gaining weight. Yesterday he judged his pack to weigh seventy-five pounds; today it felt like 175 as it dug into his shoulders and cut off the circulation to his arms and hands. My God, I can't even feel the M-16 I'm carrying, he thought in desperation.

Sergeant Wade looked behind him and sighed. Robbins had fallen too far behind again. The young soldier's face was flushed and he looked about ready to drop-as did Stevens. Wade kept moving for a few minutes until the team had crossed the open area and again entered the rain forest. He then motioned for Thumper to signal Rose to halt for a break.

Robbins, exhausted, fell back on his pack and shut his eyes to stop the dizziness. Stevens dropped wearily down beside him, wanting to puke or die. At that moment it didn't matter which. Either one would be relief.

Wade shook his head and whispered to Thumper, "We're gonna have to slow down or they ain't gonna make it."

Thumper reached for his canteen. "I wish Lieutenant Dickey could see them. Maybe he'd listen to you next time. These guys just got off the plane from the States a couple of weeks ago. They don't know their butts from holes in the ground, and they aren't even climatized yet."

Wade took a drink from his friend's canteen and gave it back. "We'll give 'em ten minutes to rest and then move out. Go back and make sure they drink plenty of water. I'm going up with Rose and pull security."

Stevens finally opened his eyes and looked at Robbins. "Man, this is bullshit."

The redhead's eyelids struggled upward slowly. "Yeah. I'm thinkin' this Ranger business isn't for me."

Stevens snickered as he lay his head back. "You just now figured that out? Shit, I knew this was bullshit all last night when I didn't get a bit of sleep. I'm gettin' out of this unit as soon as we get back. I wanna hump with a regular line company. At least you got lots of people to keep you company at night. Six dudes in Charlieland don't cut it, man."

Robbins smiled through his misery. He was glad to know he wasn't the only one who'd been miserable during the night. He was about to shut his eyes again when he saw Russian looming over him with a strange look in his eyes.

"No move," the barrel-chested soldier hissed, and raised his rifle up as if to beat the cherry with the butt.

Robbins threw his hands up to protect himself as Russian slammed the M-16 down, just missing his head. Stevens and Robbins sprang to their feet to run from the crazy man, but Russian still held the rifle butt to the ground. They then saw a thin, iridescent green body writhe and curl around the weapon stock. A bamboo viper's head was pinned beneath the rifle butt.

"Cut his head off," Russian demanded.

Both men looked at each other in disbelief. Neither was about to get close to the well known two-stepper-so called because its victims, once bitten, took only two steps before dying.

Thumper brushed past the two startled men and pulled his knife. He cut the deadly snake's head off in one swipe. Russian walked over to the cherries, and with a look of disgust took hold of Robbins's fatigue shirtsleeve and pulled him over next to Stevens. He motioned them both to sit, and then knelt in front of them, whispering, "You do not listen to what my sergeant say. He tell you do nothing he does not do. My sergeant did not lay down. No one lay down in the jungle until you check the ground first. The snake a good lesson for you. No matter how tired you become, you must be alert."

Thumper leaned over Russian's shoulder. "You were lucky. Both of you drink a full quart of water and then we'll move out.''

Two hours later, the team found the trail they were to ambush and hid themselves in a thicket of bamboo only fifteen meters away. Sergeant Wade had positioned himself and the cherry, Robbins, together. Ten meters to his right were Thumper and Rose; to his left, at the same distance, were Russian and Stevens. Hidden near the trail were deadly Claymore mines.

Wade was almost out of patience as he set down the radio handset. Because of the new men, the ambush had taken too long to set up, a situation which could have killed the whole team. The cherries didn't know or understand the procedure and had to be talked through it step by step. Stevens had really screwed up and walked out onto the trail. It'd taken Russian five precious minutes to erase his footprints and rearrange the plants he'd disturbed and crushed. Any dink could spot footprints and see a trampled path leading to a hide position.

It was that damn Dickey's fault. Lieutenant Marvin Dickey, his new platoon leader, had ordered Wade to take the new men on the mission. The platoon was short of people, and the L-tee had taken new replacements without sending them to the Mini- Ranger school at An Khe. The course was two weeks long and taught basics for survival. It also weeded out those who weren't physically or mentally tough enough for the dangerous work. Dickey had made the decision not to send the cherries to the school over the protests of Sergeant First Class Gino, the Third Platoon sergeant, and over all the other team leaders as well.

Dickey was a dumb-ass for not listening to his experienced seigeants. Damn, Wade thought, if Major Shane, his company commander, knew about the situation, he'd have the shavetail Dickey's ass!

But wishing wouldn't make the situation any better. Major Shane and the rest of the company were in Da Lat, one hundred miles away, while the Third Platoon was based in Phan Thiet, working independently for the Corps G-2 with dumb-ass Dickey in charge.

Since Dickey had taken over a month before, the platoon had gone to hell in a handbasket. The bastard was getting good men killed with his stupid orders and lack of experience.

Wade let out a deep breath. He had to relax and put his anger aside. Anger dulled the senses. He lay watching the trail for thirty minutes when, to his far right, a small, thin NVA soldier appeared. The man wore khaki pants and a gray shirt, with an ammo-pouch vest strapped to his chest. He wore no hat, his black hair was neatly combed, and he seemed to be grinnning. He carried an AK-47 in the crook of his arm. Another soldier appeared behind him, and then three more, all similarly dressed and armed, but wearing soft, floppy, boonie-hats.

Wade pressed himself closer to the ground as the enemy moved farther into the kill-zone. He tried to keep his hand from trembling, and he began to press the Claymore mines' detonator.

The world seemed to explode into a dark, brown-black cloud only a few feet away. The thunderous, earsplitting "boom!" was followed quickly by two more loud thunderclaps of sound as the other team's mines exploded.

Wade rose to his knees and fired into the billowing cloud. He saw one soldier kneeling to his right. He brought the figure into his sights and squeezed the trigger. The man pitched sideways, then tried to get up. Wade was about to fire again when he heard the distinctive ''ping-pop "of a grenade's level falling free and the striker detonating the primer cap. He spun around in time to see Robbins throw himself to the ground after tossing the grenade. The green sphere sailed only ten feet, hit the bamboo, and bounced back to the side of the prone soldier.

Wade screamed "Nooo!" as he threw himself backward and tried to flatten himself on the ground.

A vehement, explosive ' 'crack!9 9 shook the earth and slammed his head down, then up, as his body was flung on its side. He lay stunned, hearing nothing but a dull ringing noise that careened through his brain. His body felt as if it was wrapped in a tight cocoon of small pins that stuck and prodded his every nerve. A blur appeared, a blur that became a man screaming at him and grabbing him, but Wade couldn't hear the words or feel the hands.

Thumper shook his team sergeant again. "Matt!"

Russian busted through the bamboo and fell to his knees beside Thumper. He pushed the big soldier back gently and began to inspect the sergeant's wounds. Stevens followed behind Russian, holding a bloody bandage to his arm. He'd been shot through the biceps. Stevens took one look at Robbins's ripped corpse and fell to his knees, gagging.

Thumper knew Russian had plenty of experience with wounds and picked up his M-79. One look at the five bodies sprawled on the trail told him the ambush had been set up perfectly. He yelled toward Rose, "Secure the south end of the trail. I've got the north."

Russian pulled back Wade's shirt and sighed in relief. He patted Thumper's leg. "The sergeant is stunned, his wounds are not bad. He will lead us again."

Thumper relaxed his taut body and smiled. He clapped Russian's shoulder and stood up. His smile dissolved upon seeing the torn, blood-splattered body of Robbins. He walked over and put his hand on Stevens's shoulder. "Come on, kid, we gotta search the bodies."

Stevens looked up with tear-filled eyes. "But we have to . . . can't we . . .?"

Thumper shook his head sadly. "There's nothing we can do for him now. Come on, we gotta husde."

Wade regained consciousness and opened his eyes slowly. Robbins lay beside him, his eyes open, blank, seeing nothing. The dead man's face was gray-white; his freckles seemed transparent.

Wade turned his head away. He felt sick. He tried to sit up but his head seemed too heavy. He shut his eyes to stop the throbbing, gathered his strength, and tried again. He swung up to a sitting position and focused his eyes on Thumper* who was wrapping a clean bandage around Stevens's arm.

Thumper, seeing the sergeant sit up, patted Stevens's back reassuringly and moved closer to Wade. "You feelin' better, huh?"

Wade looked around quickly; they were next to a large, open area.

"How'd ya get me here?"

"Russian carried you. How's your shoulder?"

Wade looked at Thumper strangely, then glanced quickly down at his right, then left shoulder. His fatigue shirt, on the left side, was stained deep crimson. Until that instant, he hadn't felt a thing. Suddenly, as if his eyes had to see and confirm the injury, he felt a dull ache. He prodded himself and realized he wasn't hit bad; there were just a few sensitive areas, which meant a few embedded fragments. Thumper was whispering to him.