David Golemon - Legacy

Alice smiled and hopped quickly onto the flatbed. She placed her arm through Lee’s.

“I would love to.”

“I notice you didn’t protest my use of the words “old fool,” darling.”

Instead of answering, Alice just laid her head onto the broad shoulder of the man she had loved all of her adult life.

Everett directed the others to climb into the lead cart. Then Sebastian took another of the carts with Charlie, Appleby, and Franklyn Dubois-the German handed his weapon to Ellenshaw and took the wheel of the second cart.

“Don’t shoot me with that,” he said to Ellenshaw.

Jack watched the progress of the young SAS captain and his men as they weaved their way through cover that wasn’t thick enough to hide a raccoon, much less grown men. As the attack force neared the mortar positions, they began encountering fixed positions placed around the mortar crews. As they went as far as they could without being detected, Jack could hear on the radio as the Englishman gave instructions to the young Vietnamese sniper, who was well hidden on the upper tier of the ridgeline above his own position. As the SAS men and the Japanese soldiers waited, Jack watched as the sniper started tracking targets closest to the attack team.

“Come on, kid. Earn your pay for the month,” Collins mumbled while every eye on the ridge watched, hoping the covering mortar fire could be eliminated.

The binoculars in Jack’s hands told the story. He saw a group of pit defenders, as they were called by the SAS captain, start to fall. A group of six mercenaries in the first line guarded the mortar pit a hundred yards in front of the position. This was the extreme range of the sniper’s very old but very accurate M-14, a weapon the Vietnamese only had experience with from the early days of the Vietnam War, thirty-five years before this particular Vietnamese kid had been born.

Through the field glasses Jack saw Captain Whitlesey Mark-Patton raise his right hand and then he saw the extended fingers close into a fist. The first terrorist defender apparently saw movement to his front and made the mistake of raising his head. The fortuitous movement coincided with Vinh Tram’s line of fire. The first round from 1,200 yards caught the man in the top of his head, sending him backward. The next man in line saw his comrade fall and turned to see what the action was about when the second round caught him in the side of his head. Jack couldn’t see if it had been a kill shot because the man’s black baseball cap flew off and obscured his head until he sank out of sight. The friendly sniper didn’t wait to see if the shot had done its work before he fired four more times in rapid succession-hitting every one of his four targets. The nearest he came to missing was when the last man in the defense pit turned to run back to the mortar men he was tasked to guard. The last round caught the man just at the base of the skull and dropped him.

Whitlesey Mark-Patton never hesitated; he and his SAS team, with their tagalong Japanese contingent, ran forward with nothing between them and the mortar. The assault was ruthless. In just five seconds the SAS and Japanese had eliminated the entire mortar crew and then they were up and on to the next, the unguarded center mortar. They hit in the same fashion and then did the same to the third. They stayed long enough to trip fuses in the mortar rounds and drop them into their tubes. A few seconds later the tubes exploded, and then Whitlesey was headed to the next pit as he made his way back.

Jack saw the terrorist element maneuver in behind them, cutting off their retreat as the mortars blew up, outlining their avenue of retreat to the attackers. Whoever was leading these men knew what had happened and moved his chess pieces before Mark-Patton and his men could escape fully.

“Damn it!” Jack said, but even as he spoke the words he saw the men making up the flanking force start to drop.

“I’ll be damned,” the German next to him said. “That kid is an amazing shot!”

As they watched, the terrorists started dropping one at a time, each man never knowing where the shots were coming from. The young Vietnamese soldier, with the barest minimum of firepower and optical assistance, was making kill shot after kill shot from a distance of over fifteen hundred yards against an enemy partially concealed by trees and brush. Every time one of the enemies drew close to Mark-Patton and his team, that man would fall with one of Tram’s bullets in him.

Finally the SAS and Japanese element made it clear of the tree line and rejoined the defense. Captain Whitlesey Mark-Patton joined Jack before he followed his men to the ridge above. All three mortar crews had been eliminated without one attacker lost.

“Remind me to kiss that kid,” Captain Mark-Patton said breathlessly as he plopped against Collins.

“Good job, Captain. That should take away one of their shields when they come on,” Jack said as he watched the terrorist element start to move forward in earnest.

Mark-Patton was making ready to join his men when he turned back to Collins and smiled.

“If I don’t get the chance later, Colonel, tell that kid who saved our asses out there he can bloody well join my team any day.”

“Too late, Captain. I’m adopting him,” Jack said as he lowered the glasses. He held his hand out and shook with the SAS man.

“Here they come, Colonel,” the German lieutenant said, sighting on the first group of mercenaries to break cover.

Jack admired the discipline of the expert soldiers in his defense team. They held their fire without being told as the enemy broke. He also admired the attack strategy of whoever was leading the group of misguided men below. They came on in stages, not presenting a solid front for his men to concentrate fire upon. They came on in staggered waves, zigzagging their way up the hill toward their very limited defense.

Collins raised his M-16 and sighted. He saw one man in front of a group of thirty-five or so and targeted him since he was turning periodically and gesturing. A sure leader of men, Jack thought, as he fired the first round from the first line of defenders. The man fell. That was the signal for the defense of Columbus Ridge, as it would be known in many reports afterward, to begin.

The entire firing line opened up against the overwhelming force of terrorists.

As the three carts traveled further into the mine shaft, Everett could see the expense that was thrown into the mine itself. The German engineers had made a futuristic roadway complete with lighting and smooth macadam road. The further down they traveled, the smaller but more brightly lit the tunnel was. All eyes were watching for guards that may have ventured in ahead of them. Carl heard a shot from behind their electric car. When he stopped, he saw Sebastian lecturing Charlie Ellenshaw about weapons safety. Pete was actually smiling from his position in the flatbed behind Ellenshaw. Satisfied they weren’t in the midst of an ambush, Everett drove on. Every once in a while he would glance back at the senator and Alice. Lee was leaning heavily against her and unmoving. Alice would place her right hand against his cheek and rub it until Garrison looked up and reassured her he was still among the living. Carl also noticed the medical bag opened at Alice’s side. Lee was being plied with plenty of painkillers for his ride into the bowels of the earth.

Suddenly Carl had to slam on the brakes as they came around a large bend in the lighted roadway. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Before them stood two giant doors, but that wasn’t the amazing sight. On both sides of the road were large kiosks, just like the ones you would find in any museum in the world. Decked out in bright red and black streamers covered in dust and dirt were what looked like gift shops. Inside were displayed Nazi flags and pictures of the mine shaft as it was being excavated. Everett shone a flashlight in one of the large plate glass windows and saw what looked like small models of spaceships that he recognized from his childhood.