Don Pendleton - Tiger War

"Remember," Bolan told them, "when you shoot, you shoot to miss. If we down that plane, the Thais will send a regiment and we'll never get out."

Grunts acknowledged this last point.

They checked their radios. Twenty handsets arrived with the arms. Communications always played a big part in Bolan's scheme of things. Then Bolan ran to a spot from which he could observe the entire road.

"Okay, Heath, let's go!" Bolan said into his radio.

A pair of riders galloped out of the forest, down the road and into the next forest, the branches behind them raising dust. The dust hung in midair, as there was hardly any wind.

"Next, "said Bolan.

A second pair galloped out, this one already partly obscured by the dust. As they went by, the cloud over the road thickened.

"Next."

On the fifth turn, Nark's voice came on the radio. "It's working," he said. "The Piper's heading your way."

The spotter flew overhead. A wing dipped as the pilot prepared to investigate this dust cloud to the east. A moment later he was zooming skyward, bracketed by tracers from riders on the road and in the forests. When he reached a safe height he began circling.

"Phoenix to Nark," Bolan said into the radio. "He's hooked. Start moving out."

"On the way," the other replied.

Now began a tense waiting game, the plane circling, the riders galloping. Occasionally the plane tried to come down for a closer look. And each time it was driven off by gunfire. A closer inspection might have revealed riders galloping both ways.

The radio came to life. It was Nark. "We hear choppers." A little later he added, "Eight helicopters. Heading your way."

The sky filled with the sound of rotor blades, and the helicopters passed over Bolan's head. They were Sikorskys. They flew far over the forest, the sound faded, and Bolan lost them from view. The plane went on circling, the riders galloped.

"Colonel," the radio whispered. "This is Ly in the other forest. I can hear the helicopters land. They are using the clearing. There is a big clearing in the middle." A little later, "The helicopters are leaving."

The Sikorskys reappeared over the forest, flying south this time. In due course the Piper flew off after them and a silence descended on the area. Bolan watched the Piper turn into a dot in the sky.

"Phoenix to Mr. Ly," said Bolan into the radio. "Return."

"Yes, sir."

"Phoenix to Nark. Where are you?"

"Couple of klicks from the northern edge," Nark replied. "But Major Vang Ky is already at the edge with the point team."

"Phoenix to Major Vang Ky. What's the terrain like?"

"Open land for five hundred yards, Colonel. And another forest. You want us to cross?"

"Wait until the main force reaches you," replied Bolan. "Then we all make a quick dash. The plane could return. Phoenix to Nark. When you cross, keep off the trail."

"Roger."

Bolan ran back to his riders. They presented quite a spectacle, men and horses covered in a thick layer of dust.

"Well done, brothers," said Bolan. "We tricked them."

Just then, however, the radio blared: "Nark to Phoenix. Urgent! Helicopters in the west. Flying north. Major Vang Ky, do you see them?"

"I see them, Mr. Nark, I see them. Many helicopters. One, two, three, four, five, six. And two more. Eight helicopter Mr. Nark. They are Hueys. They are flying for the next forest.... They are over the forest... I see ropes coming from them. Men are sliding down the ropes. Many men, Mr. Nark. Colonel, our way is blocked. What are we going to do?"

"Stand by," said Bolan. He took out a pack of cigarettes, lit one, then sat down by the foot of a tree.

"I guess we didn't trick them after all," said Heath.

"I guess not," said Bolan. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes. "Now we're in a real fix," he said quietly.

The forest was bathed in a hot afternoon stillness. Butterflies flew about and somewhere an insect buzzed. By the foot of the tree, Bolan went on smoking, head tilted, eyes closed. The mounted Montagnards watched with sympathy. It is at such moments soldiers are glad they are not the officer.

"Suppose we backtracked," suggested Heath. He squatted by Bolan's side. "We could take another trail."

"There are no other trails for miles," said Bolan without opening his eyes.

"Couldn't we go cross-country?"

"Take too long. We have to attack tonight."

A hooting whistle sounded from afar. Another train.

"Perhaps we can bribe our way out," suggested Heath. "A guy I know did that in Nam. Took a whole platoon through VC lines. Cost him a hundred bucks."

"That's because he only had a platoon. We're too many."

"Then let's shoot our way through."

"Not allowed to shoot Thais. Thailand is part of SEATO."

"I give up."

Bolan smiled, his eyes still shut. "Don't. Two minds are better than one." How the hell was he going to get his men past the Thais? They fell silent, listening to the buzz of the insects. In the distance the train kept hooting.

Bolan knew there was a way; there was always a way if you were prepared to make the necessary mental effort. Who would have thought one man could ambush two hundred? Well, it happened. How? Because he had imagined ambushing them with an elephant.

Think, think, he told himself. Every riddle has an answer, every lock a key. All it takes is imagination ...

The train kept hooting and...."The train!" Bolan sprang to his feet and raced for his horse. "Paj!" he shouted to his men, swinging into the saddle.

They charged headlong through the forest, Bolan ignoring the thorns tearing at his clothes, the branches whipping his face. Eyes filled with water from the rush of air, he led them crashing through the undergrowth, all his being concentrated on one thought: he had to get the train.

The whistling neared. The train was coming from the south. Soon he could hear the puffing of a steam locomotive. Then, as the locomotive passed ahead of him on the other side of some trees, he could hear the rumble of wheels.

The trees thinned and he saw it: a long line of ore and flatcars. The cars were empty. Perfect.

They rode out of the trees and galloped single file along the side of the track, heading after the locomotive, overtaking the cars one by one. The train moved slowly, as there were many cars and only one locomotive.

A passenger car appeared, the fourth car behind the engine. As he galloped past it Bolan looked up and got a shock. The car was full of troops, and their fatigue caps told him the troops were Tiger. He saw them stare at him with surprise, and then he was past them.

But they quickly recovered; as he was nearing the engine he heard gunfire. The soldiers were engaging the Montagnards. Bolan turned in the saddle and waved to his men to disperse. They veered off and rode back into the trees. Now only Heath was with him.

Bolan passed a flatcar carrying Tiger horses and drew even with the locomotive. He took out his Makarov, grabbed the handrail, and swung himself into the cab. The pistol spat flame twice, and the two soldiers riding escort crumpled to the floor. The locomotive engineer backed against the controls in terror at the sight of this long nose in Montagnard dress, complete with silver collar.

"Stop the engines!" Bolan shouted above the noise of the wheels and the steam.

But the engineer did not react. He seemed paralyzed.

"I'll do it," said Heath. He shouted that he was the son of a railroad man and had ridden in locomotives. He shut the throttle, and the noise level in the cab fell by half. He took hold of the brake handle. "Hold tight!" he said, swinging the brake lever to Emergency.

Bolan grabbed the side of the cab as the locomotive lurched. The air filled with the sound of screaming metal, and they slid on the track, wheels locked. Finally, with another lurch, the whole train came to a sudden stop.