Charles Taylor - Show of Force

They had no idea how many boats there were, or how well they were armed. They did not want to fall into another ambush, no matter how little time the VC would have to set it up. So, Mezey had them move at about the same fifteen-knot speed as the Monitor-style battleship. Not a word was said over the radio between the boats. Mezey had called into his headquarters to report VC contact and asked for aircraft on standby in case they caught up to anything worthwhile.

David Charles had spread his charts out on the deck of his boat. He noted they were getting closer to the border, the no-man's area that they weren't supposed to cross. Too often, it served as a hiding place for their enemy. Less" than ten miles ahead was Cambodia. He also noted the river would widen in less than a mile, a good place to fight the VC if they could catch them.

Their enemy had the same idea. They were greeted by two native-style boats as they rounded a bend and entered the wide shallow section of the river. They were shallow craft, motorized vessels moving at a slow pace as if on the way to market. But at approximately two hundred yards, after each had fired initial mortar rounds, their sterns settled back in the water and their engines opened up to full speed. They came directly at the Americans, still firing the mortars inaccurately, but pouring streams of machine-gun fire into the nearest boat.

As the wheel of his own PBR was thrown over, David briefly saw more of the craft going away from them. This attack was intended to slow them just long enough to make good the escape of the main VC force.

The VC boats actually came up to and passed the lead boats in the squadron, raking them with small.arms, their machine guns maintaining fire directly into the PBR's. Only the closest boat could return the fire, for the ones in back were afraid of hitting their friends. Now, the forward PBR's began to concentrate their own .50-calibers. Both of the attackers were zigzagging as best they could, their fire limited to tail gunners as they passed the rear PBR's.

One of them slowed, obviously damaged by the machine-gun fire from half a dozen American boats. At this point the lumbering battleship picked it up with the 20-mm. shells, and the craft began to splinter before their eyes. Smoke lifted from its stern as it lurched sideways, presenting a perfect target. Then flames began to spread across the decks. Its remaining crew leaped over the side through the still intense machine-gun fire, hoping to reach the safety of the shore. Then the guns of both the battleship and the PBR's concentrated on the other. It also had begun to slow down. As the 20-mm. shells again found their mark, a thunderous explosion rocked the river, tearing the VC craft apart, flinging large chunks through the air. When the water settled, nothing remained to indicate that a boat had been there just seconds before.

This second time the squadron wasn't as lucky. The inability to concentrate their fire until the VC were far enough from friendly craft had taken a toll. Two of the boats were rapidly taking on water and two others had been seriously damaged. Personnel casualties required the squadron to bunch up for a moment.

As he came close to Mezey's badly damaged boat, he saw his friend stretched out on the stern, two of his crew hovering over him. David brought his own boat close enough to jump onto the other.

Mezey looked up at him, face contorted with pain. "Damn it, David, they've done just what we didn't want. The main body's heading for the border, and we're licking our wounds." David knelt beside him, as a corpsman from another craft bandaged both wounded legs. "Take half a dozen boats in the best shape and enough men to handle some extra weapons and go after those mothers. They've got something they're hiding to pull a stunt like that."

"Right," David responded, without questioning the orders. "Are you sure you're going to be all right on the way back?" he queried.

"Yeah. I'd love to go, but you're going to have enough problems without a goddamn cripple on your hands. I'll go back with the damaged boats." He looked at his ragged fleet, the one he had so willingly volunteered only the day before. "Keep the rest a mile or two behind you, along with the battleship. You may need them if you run into any more of this shit." He grinned up at David. "Remember, this is what you cut those orders for. Get your ass in gear and get out of here."

It took only minutes to sort out the six least-damaged boats and exchange enough of the weapons and men to make them a more formidable force than they had been previously.

They moved out at high speed, each one cranked up to maximize the twenty-five knots they were designed for. This time David had little opportunity to study his charts or memorize the landmarks for a return trip. Each boat was on its own until they discovered their quarry.

The first item in his plans involved calling headquarters. He asked directly for the Task Force Commander for their region.

"This is Victory Garden One," the Rear Admiral answered after a short delay. "Go ahead. Over."

"This is Bugle Boy." He wasted no words. "Have encountered heavy riverine resistance near the border. Two attacks. Bugle Boy One is returning with damaged craft. XO now in command. Two craft sunk. Two badly damaged. Half a dozen in poor condition. Enemy escaping over water toward border. I believe they are covering for a large force, possibly the heavy troop concentration we were sent out to look for. I am closing with six well-armed PBR's. We have a secondary force of damaged boats and the ASPB is a rear guard. Request airborne assistance. Over."

"Roger, Bugle Boy. What is your estimated range from the border? Over."

"Estimate three to five miles. We are moving at flank speed, and it's hard to tell our exact location. Over."

"This is Victory Garden. Roger your location. We believe the troop concentration may be close to your present location. Do you require the aircraft for your own protection? Over."

"This is Bugle Boy. Negative. We believe there is a larger force ahead because of the nature of their attacks. If they lead us into it, the airdales can take it from there. Over."

"This is Victory Garden. We are scrambling Phantoms for you now. Call sign Playboy. Time on station twenty minutes. They will contact you on this channel. However, do not cross the border. Repeat, do not cross the border. We will monitor this channel. Over."

"This is Bugle Boy. Roger and thank you. Out."

They were rounding a bend of the river in a ragged formation when the water in front of them belched upward. The lead boat was not with them when they appeared on the other side of the wall of water. It had likely been on top of one of the mines and had simply disappeared. Ahead were the VC, the ones who had detonated the mines strung across the river, and this time they were waiting for the Americans.

As the PBR's came through the wall of water, the VC opened fire from both the boats and the shore. David's boats answered, this time with the increased firepower he had acquired from the other boats. The Communist craft, realizing they were offering too easy a target near the shore, moved out into the river. But it was too late for two of them. Both bazooka and .50-caliber fire ripped into them. They began to smoke.

There was no place for the PBR's to seek cover. The smaller VC boats were moving across the river. "Take them head to head," David shouted to his boats over the radio, and the little PBR's maintained their twenty-five-knot speed right into the middle of the enemy.

At this point, David realized that the fire from the shoreline had been heavier than from the boats. They must have been offloading troops, probably the ones that had ambushed them downriver. The fire from shore could not keep up with the speeding boats, and was minimal once David's PBR's were among the enemy. The VC craft were not as fast or as maneuverable as the PBR's. The latter boats had the advantage of speed and firepower as they swept by. Reversing their direction, they made a second run on the VC boats, only two of which now showed much fight. The others were aimlessly floating in the middle of the river, abandoned by their crews. One of the remainder took two bazooka hits simultaneously, drifting toward the shore. With all the fire now concentrated on the remaining boat, it was literally lifted out of the water.