Walter Myers - Fallen Angels

We went in a chopper with some First Cav guys who were going up to Quang Nam province. The choppers dropped us off first. We went east through a fairly dense stretch of forest and then swung back west until we hit our coordinates. Sergeant Simpson said that we would be picked up in a different zone. He acted worried. It was our first patrol with Gearhart. Simpson told me and Monaco to keep our eyes on Gearhart.

“Just so he don’t get me killed,” he said. He had twenty-two days left.

This ambush patrol was different than the first one we had been on near the cemetery. This was along a small road going just east of some pretty high hills. We were to take one stretch of the road, and some South Vietnamese regulars — ARVN — were to be up a little way from us.

When we got to the ambush site, Sergeant Simpson didn’t like it. The road itself was small and ran along a rice paddy. There were dikes leading from the road, but they didn’t look too firm. The other side of the road was a lightly wooded area.

“That sucker’s probably mined,” Sergeant Simpson said. “We got to go down to the end of the paddy and check that out.”

“We’ll set up here, Sergeant.” Lieutenant Gearhart’s voice stiffened.

“We ain’t got no cover here, sir.” Sergeant Simpson looked at Gearhart.

“There’s cover there,” Gearhart said. He pointed to a small trench along the side of the paddy. There were thin bushes next to it. Nothing that would stop a bullet. “We’ll put sandbags behind the bushes.” “You gonna get some people killed over here!” “Sergeant, I know what I’m doing.” Gearhart took a step toward Simpson. “Now deploy the men.” For a moment the two men stood looking at each other, then Sergeant Simpson turned away. I didn’t like it. I knew Simpson, I didn’t know Gearhart yet. Simpson got Monaco and took him down the paddy and placed him. Then he came back and got me and Peewee.

“Peewee, you and Perry be our rear security. Monaco got the other end. First noise you hear, light it up! We ain’t waiting for nothing to get into no damn killing zone ’cause I don’t want it to be my ass that gets killed out here tonight!”

Gearhart came up with a diagram, a little picture of the place we were in. We were to set up an “L” just off the road. The short end of the “L” was the front. Monaco and Lobel had that. The rest of the squad, except me and Peewee, were on the long side of the “L” which paralleled the road. Me and Peewee were off to the rear of the squad line to watch in case the Congs came through the paddies behind the squad.

“Set your claymores out near that paddy dike,” Gearhart said to me. The claymores sent fragments of steel in whatever direction you pointed them. They could be set off from a distance. “You see a patrol, you let them into the zone until their rear man gets on a line with that tree over there. You understand that?”

“Suppose it’s more than a patrol,” Peewee said. “By the time their rear man gets lined up with that tree you could have a hundred of them out there.” “That’s okay,” Gearhart said. “If it’s that large a unit, we’ll just open up on their rear and get as many casualties as possible. That’ll make them back off until we can retreat. Charlie isn’t the only one that can play guerrilla games out here.”

He clicked his tongue at Peewee and left.

“What the fuck does that mean?” Peewee looked at me.

“I guess he means we’ll hit and run, I guess.” “No, man, what he sucking his tongue at me fo ?” Peewee’s eyes narrowed. “That man definitely need his ass kicked.”

“I hope we get back to base to kick it,” I said. “If somebody’s spotted us out here, we got a world of trouble, or if it rains — ”

“Rain don’t bother me,” Peewee said.

“If it starts raining again, how you going to see who’s lined up with what damn tree?”

“I’m doing what Sarge said,” Peewee said. “If I see a damn dog out here, I’m blasting away.” Johnson was in the center of the squad with the sixty. Brunner had the radio, and the rest of the squad were to one side or the other.

I had the claymores and three dozen grenades. The claymores were the baddest things going. They could be aimed to cover a target area and wasted anything within sixty meters in front of them. “Peewee, you got your switchblade?”

“Damn straight,” came the quick answer.

“Why do you always carry that thing?”

“Case this war get serious,” Peewee said.

“Perry, you put out the claymores?” Walowick’s voice.

“Damn!” I forgot them. “Cover me!”

I couldn’t believe I hadn’t put out the claymores. I started off as quickly as I could, keeping a low profile. The moon seemed to float in a curtain of fog over the field. I was praying for rain. I went out and started putting in the first claymore.

There was nothing to attach a tripwire to that looked like it would cover anything. Maybe I could have figured out something if I had stayed out a little longer, but I heard a double click coming from Peewee’s direction. I set the mine for remote detonation and got back to Peewee as soon as I could. “What’s up?” I whispered.

“I just heard two clicks from somebody, so I passed them on,” Peewee said.

Two clicks were our signal on the first go around. Then it would be one click, and then one and two. I made sure the grenade launcher was ready.

“Psst!”

Lobel was crawling toward us.

“What’s up?”

“Gearhart wants to know if you set the claymores for remote?”

“Yeah. He saw me on the Scope?”

You could see almost as well with the Starlight Scope at night as you could see in the daylight.

“Yeah,” Peewee said. “He got Brunner on the remote.”

It got dark quickly. I was glad for the darkness and afraid of it. Whatever was terrible I thought about. Suppose I was hit, and they didn’t notice it in the darkness? No, Peewee would notice it. I just knew he would. Peewee or Monaco. Brew came down the line and checked everybody.

The wet ground soon had my fatigues soaked. I was getting cold. I wondered if they had actually started sending outfits home. I thought about Hawaii.

The war was a thousand miles away. We could hear its rumbling, but all we were doing was waiting for the word to get back to the base. It wasn’t our war, I told myself. Not tonight.

There was a faint odor that I recognized. Rotting bamboo. They used it along the paddy dikes for footing.

I tried to think of something to think about. I didn’t want to think about Mama. If I thought about her I would get too involved. Same thing with Kenny. Same thing with Lieutenant Carroll. What to think about?

Faye Jackson. Light-skinned, sweet-voiced girl from the Virgin Islands. I think I could have had sex with her before I left. You couldn’t tell about the girls from the Virgin Islands. I knew three, Faye and her sister and another girl named Darlene. They all swung their hips when they walked and filled my head with fantasies. I decided to have a fantasy about Faye.

Phloop! Somebody in the squad set off a flare. We were all exposed.

For a moment we all watched it in fascination. Then Monaco started yelling.

“Right side! Right side! Blow the mines!”

“No! No!” Sergeant Simpson jumped up and started waving his hands. I looked at where I had put the claymore and saw a figure moving away from it. “He turned it!”

The claymore went off, and we all hit the dirt. I could hear bullets whining by me. I stuck my head up and saw a tracer come at me. I ducked down again. Peewee was firing. I could hear the sixty. I stuck my head up again, and the tracers kept coming at me. I ducked down again. I couldn’t believe I wasn’t hit.