Khe Sahn 1967

United States Air Force Lieutenant Audrey Gains felt like she'd been sucker punched by a speeding train as she lay fallen across the ground, the canopy of trees above her was cracked and broken, likely from her hard landing. She took in deep breath of air, trying to make the pain in her chest lessen. After a few deep breaths, she slowly regained her wits. She realized after a moment something shocking, she hadn't crashed.

She'd been shot down. Shot down by enemy forces. The same enemy that was, most likely, on its way to come and get her as she sat here thinking. Standing, the remains of her strikers, A-1 Skyraiders in the mud and lime Air Force shade were wrecked, the props bent out of shape, and skin covered in holes that showed her bare legs. Pulling them free, she tossed the remains of her flight helmet aside, the tinted visor cracked, and found a sea of green and brown around her. A quick look left and right told her that her weapon hadn't made it either, the outdated Browning's barrel was twisted into a crazy angle, pulling her 38. from her shoulder holster, she realized the irony, she'd complained in the past about carrying a side arm, and now it was all she had between her and god knew what.

God...

She sighed. Sometimes it seemed God has a sick sense of humor didn't he?

Four Kilometers away, Hill 881S, United States Marine Outpost

Sgt Joseph Wheeler Crest, or simply "Sergeant Crest" to any of the marines in his platoon, knew the moment the Lieutenant Beck's face twisted as he held the PRC's receiver to his ear, they were in for a hell of a job. The LT told him that a Witch had been shot down well providing fire to some of the troops stationed at the Lang Vei Special Forces camp, several miles away, they'd all heard it, sounds of a battle bouncing off the hills around them, and now, it seemed they had the job of getting her back in one piece.

"Brass never did like to lose a witch" he said out loud as he began gathering ammo for the mission inside the bunker he shared with five other marine "Course last time i did this, we had a real leader" In Kita, back in "50" when he'd been a lowley private fighting in the "Frozen"Chosin with Fox Company, 5th Marines, they'd been lead by a Lieutenant Peterson, a vet of the second Neuroi war, who'd seen action in the Pacific, the man was the finest butter bar he'd ever served under, always watched out for his men, made sure they had the best he could get, and he'd payed the price for his "love", when a red hot death beam had cut through his chest, killing him where he stood as he rallied the company during an assault in sub zero weather, they'd fought the enemy off, he liked to think in honor of their fallen leader, and lived to fight on, but now, fourteen years and four ranks on his shoulder latter, he found himself under the opposite of that man.

Steven Beck must have had a general for a father, because he was a grade A fuck up in ever regard. He tended to do the bare minimum half the time, and when he did more, he often took all credit for what had been done, stepping over the noncoms and enlisted men bellow him. Had the leathernecks been less disciplined, he would have been "fragged" as fast as any other REMF in a combat post.

"Whatcha think gonna happen to us sarge, think we can get her back here before the "spooks" get her"? Private Lyle Allen asked, his large lips spread in a grin, as he placed his helmet on his head. Crest turned to him, two grenades, pins wrapped in tape, attached to his web gear "I think we'll do our damn job, and boy, i ain't no dentist, so get them pearly whites out of my sight"! he ordered, the young private gulped, and did as he asked, turning his back to the older man, and loading a magazine into his rifle, the black weightless "Mighty Mattel" M-16.

Crest picked up his own weapon, a stainless steel and wood stocked Winchester trench gun, a weapon that his father had likely carried in the trenches in 1918, and one he wasn't meant to have, being a non issued weapon, but it had a punch the M-16 couldn't try to match. He'd take a chewing out over death any day. Feeding shells six shells into the breach, before pumping one into the chamber and adding another, he placed his own helmet on, wiped the sweat from the stubble on his cheek, and joined the rest of the squad. Lt Beck had a group of seven marines gathered around him, he realized quickly, he was the eight, and final man to arrive.

"Men, it seems a witch has gone down somewhere around here, and our mission is to find her"

It was clear by the Lieutenant's words he wasn't coming, when he said "Our Mission" he meant "Your Mission" Crest had his own thoughts on this, most involved the LT and a string of words taken in the lords name. The small rescue team, consisted on Crest, a single grenadier, armed with an M-79 break action grenade launcher, a weapon that looked like the result of a one night stand between a shotgun and a recoiless rifle, one man with the "Pig" the M60 machine gun chambered in 7.62 NATO, the old M1919's younger, tougher brother, and a gaggle of riflemen, armed with M-16s and a Corpsmen. Crest was senior among them. This was to be a quick operation, just ammo, flak vests and weapons, anything else would just weigh them down, and speed was key.

"Well" he said as the Beck mention this to them "I got one rule, don't screw up, or it'll look bad on my record" he said in a deadpan tone, slapping the front of his flak jacket for emphasis. Not one man laughed, most knew his words held some truth, out there, once they got off the hill, one fuck up could get them all killed. Flicking his hand forwards in a chopping motion, he spoke again "Lets move, we follow that" he pointed to the smoke trail waffing up from the jungle nearby, a dark black stain against the lush wet green hills and azure sky. Moving in single file, they followed, slowly making their way down the slopes to find the lost witch...

...

If Audrey ever got back to Da Nang, the airbase she was based out of, she promised herself to never set foot outside it's fence if she didn't have to ever again, the damn trees and brush were a nightmare's wet dream, thick with vines and bush, perfect for an ambush. Behind her, the remains of her A-1s burned deeper in the jungle, she didn't think the flames could spread with how damp it was, but the smoke was giving away her position for all to see, training said to distance yourself from the crash, and move south towards friendly lines, her compass had somehow survived the crash, and now, alongside her 38. S&W, was her lifeline to safety.

Pushing away the vines to her front as she marched, and leveled her revolver ahead, her hand trembling with ever move. "You can do with Audrey, your a witch after all" she said to herself in a low tone, her voice full of fear, it was one thing to fight the Neuroi from the air, the black specks on the ground blew up just like targets during training, but up close...it wouldn't be the same, or as easy.

Moving down what had to be a trail of some sort, the brush was less thick on the small path, she noticed boot marks in the red dirt. "YES"! The thought shot through her head, boot prints meant soldiers, and soldiers meant rescue! Following the trail, her bare feet making a slightly audible thuck sound as they pulled a bit of dirt up with them each time, the soles a soft red shade now as she traced the prints heading south towards friendly lines. She knew, like it or not, it wouldn't be easy. The jungle was wet, making her footfalls almost silent save for the mud, but this meant anyone chasing her would likely be unheard as well, something she didn't like.

Ahead, she spotted a small clearing, she slowed herself, questioning if she should skit around it, or risk walking through it to save time, a crash from the brush told her that the answer was to hide, and diving behind a rotted log, she heard ripping and tearing. through a hole in the fallen tree's body, she watched a study four legged hexigon with black and red skin lurch forwards, about the size of a dinner table. Behind it, almost a dozen two legged combat forms followed, their bodies were vaguely humaniod, the same basic shape, be it the left arm a cylinder like weapon, and heads with a bowl shape near the top like farmers wore in the rice fields. They were covered in jungle rot, bits of vines and mud from traveling for so long in the dense overgrown jungle, it stuck out against their black skin like light in the darkness.

They formed a rough cordon and stopped, Audrey watched them begin to wipe each others bodies to remove the growth, she guessed they didn't like it either. Her heart raced as she watched the black demons wiping each other down like sweaty football players. She almost laughed at the sight. Instead, she yelped, feeling something crawl across her leg, a spider or snake, she wasn't sure. She was sure she'd just screwed herself over, the crowd of Neuroi turned to face her hiding space, one pointed it's "Arm" at the log and let out a hellish howl, the others took a step forwards, and then all hell broke lose.

From the treeline to the Neuroi's front, a wall of muzzle flashes cut into the green, and a sharp crack sounded, and a flash of a rocket was followed by it slamming into the four legged beast, blowing two of it's legs off. Sitting up, and resting her arms against the log, she joined in the fighting, firing her 38. like a Clint Eastwood in a western, the kick of the pistol was nothing to a witch, but even she could feel the power as she popped shot after shot off with it. As she did this, a thought popped into her head.

Maybe, just maybe, she might make it now.

...

Sgt Crest dropped the still smoking lime green tube of the M-72 LAW, the light anti tank assault weapon was a single shot weapon, and now was nothing more then a fancy paper weight. Crest had the squad set up in a rough line, so every gun was trained on the enemy, the edges curved, the enemy was caught in a 90 degree killing field. The Spooks returned fire, red lasers cutting into the brush and burning leaves off branches, but between the quickness of the ambush, and the concealment of the Marines, their was no need for a Corpsmen, and within seconds, not one neruoi was left standing, only midnight black bodies, with huge chunks blown out of them with the smell of gunpowder in the air.

As the last weapons fire ceased (The M60, with it's unmistakable burning tracers) Crest moved to a standing posture, he removed his shotgun, slung over his back, and leveled it at what was left of the enemy. "Come on, lets make sure they're dead" he waved to three others to follow him. "Eyes open boys, we mighta missed one of em" he added, as they scanned the clearing for signs of "life". Stepping out of the brush, the prodded the dead enemy with their rifles, one wide eyed private happily said "All clear Sarge"

"Keep an eye open" Crest muttered as he raised his shotgun's muzzle skyward, relaxing slightly, letting out a low deep breath, but his rest would last but a moment, as he noticed movement behind a nearby log, raising his shotgun to his should, he watched a pair of hands stick up from behind it, palms open "Don't shoot, friendly"! a female voice shouted.

"All clear" my ass" he sighed, giving the private an angry glance, before turning his gaze back to the log, in a gruff voice, he yelled "Advance and be recognized"! with stern eyes, he watched a young woman, dressed in a green flight suit and shorts minus the boots, with red hair tied back in a somewhat messy bun, her green eyes held a mixture of fear, and hope.

"Guess your the lost witch eh"? he smiled, resting his Winchester upside down on his shoulder with one handed, and holding out the other for the young woman. The rest of his men quickly relaxed as the NCO helped her over the remains of the enemy. "Miss, are you alright'? He asked as she sat down on a rock, taking a swing of water from the canteen he offered her a moment before, taking a long sip, and handing it back to him, she nodded "I'm fine. Fine as you can be after a crash at least, wouldn't mind a pair of boots though" she added, Crest glanced at her feet, and saw them, the bottoms quite bloody from the jungle floor.

"Let me see what i can do bout' that maim, Corpsman up"! he called, the skinny black man in glasses was there by his side in a moment, a red cross bag slung at his side "Sergeant"? he asked, before looking at the witch, he realized the issue at once "Let me see what i can do, miss" he smiled, taking her foot in his hand, and cleaning away the blood with a gauze covered in water, quickly the white turned to red oo the fabric, and he repeated this, now with disinfectent on top "Never know what this damn jungle has lying around" He joked as she winced at the burn on the cuts. Cleaning her up, he removed a pair GI socks from his pack, and handed them to her, Crest spoke up again "Sorry, we didn't bring any boots, but these'll have to do for now"

"it's fine, thank you..." she took a moment to eye the rank on his shoulder "Sergeant..." but found his name on his breast was too dirtied to be legible. The Leatherneck smiled, something he rarely did in the field "It's Crest, Sergeant Joseph Wheeler Crest, Golf Company, 2nd Battalion 3rd Marines maim" Now she realized, it was her turn for an introduction "Lieutenant Audrey Gaines, 112th Air Support Squadron,".

"Hear that boys, we got us an officer among us" he joked "Guess we'll have to salute you, but we'll wait until were outta here since you wanna keep your head on your shoulders" he referred to the snipers habit of picking off officers in the field, killing those shown the proper respect in the field because it marked them as officers. Gaines took a few moments to catch her breath, drinking a bit more water, before speaking again "So, when we getting a chopper in here"? she asked, the Sergeant smiled "Maim, we gotta walk all the way back to base, before that's possible" he held a sort of laughable sadness to his voice.

"So were..." ? She asked uncertainly, dreading the answer. "Yep" the leatherneck replied "On foot"

Yes. God did have it in for her, didn't he?

...

Audrey couldn't feel her feet as they marched in a single file line through the jungle, a few feet spaced out between each Marine, she'd been paired with one, to "watch her ass" as Sgt Crest had put it. The wide eyed private with straw colored hair poking out from under his helmet seemed younger then most of the others, and just a bit friendlier too.

"So you gals get decent food then"? he asked in a hushed voice as they marched through the jungle. She smiled slightly, most people would expect a grunt in the field to be drooling over the mere sight of a woman, but a man's thought often went to food before females she'd found time and time again. "Yes, they feed most pilots decently, witches no exception" He seemed to be pleased with this answer, nodding his head "We don't get much out here, they tend to drop it in from choppers for us, but we manage" he boasted with pride.

"Typical" she mock sighed "Men turning a weakness into a strength", Ahead, the ground began to rise, and the grunts, even the hard chargers sweated as they climbed up the sharp incline, littered with tree stumps and rocks.,craters too abound. She had some trouble with the climb, the young private tossing her a hand, and helping her up, rifle slung on his shoulder, with a smile

"First climb is always the hardest, maim" he added leading her up to the top.

Walking into the hilltop outpost, she saw razor wire set up along the edge of the hilltop, with sandbag bunkers behind them, and trenches, it didn't look like easy living by any means. From above, she heard a soft pop and watched the devil dogs scatter to the scream of "Laos Pop". Before she could react, she felt herself lifted up, as a marine swung her onto his shoulder and ran towards the nearest trench as fast as he could carry the two of them. Jumping into the deeply dug trench, the marine threw his body over her own, seconds latter, a crashing boom shock the ground, denting her hearing for a moment. Dazed, she looked around, the marine stood up, and in what sounded like a whisper to her, yelled to another with a pair of binoculars to his eyes "Did you see it"?. The man nodded, and taking a nearby radio, he called it in, giving a series of numbers...it took her a moment to realize they were coordinates, grid reference on a map. Turning and putting the receiver done on top of the radio, she could see her rescuer had been Sergeant Crest, his scowl turned soft and he knelled down next to her "You alright maim"? he asked.

"Yes...i'm fine Sergeant" standing up, she dusted herself. He spoke again in a angery tone "Damn mortars, they fire em in from Laos just 'cross the border, we can't go after em...on foot" he smiled at the last word as she heard a sound more familiar to her then the infantrymen. Above, she watched the twin contrails of two witches in jet strikers as they filed a salvo of rockets into a hillside that looked to be a mile or two away. "Say what you want 'bout the Air force, but they save our ass more times then i'd care to admit" Crest pointed out as they watched the show of Liberian firepower before them.

"Yes, those Thunderchiefs are fine birds, never get a chance to handle one myself" she didn't add how much of a disappointment it had been to be denied that, she'd wanted to be a Phantom Flyer, and flunked the course, as had she every Jet based striker the Air force seemed to have, but she'd somehow passed the Skyraider exam with flying colors. She'd have given anything to have a set of those F-4s on her legs now, but today she was just happy to be alive. The low puttering of rotors told her a chopper was inbound, Crest flicked a thumb out towards the growing shape.

"That's your bird then, better get on her quick before the Spooks decide to take another shot at us". She turned watching the UH-1 land, a man behind a gun neat the door waving her and a wounded marine, half his face covered by bandages. "Thank you, and good luck Sergeant" she yelled over the rotor wash as she ran hunched over towards the aircraft, the gunner throwing her and the wounded man and pulling them inside and strapping them in as it took to the skies once more.

...

The slick ride back to Da Nang was uneventful, besides taking enemy fire, the marine riding with her only chuckled at the sight of it "Damn spooks are poor shots" and smiled. She looked at him like he was insane. The pilots stayed calm, and the door gunners leveled their guns at the jungle covered hills bellow, even if they could have seen the enemy, she didn't think their M60s had the range to hit them.

"This infantry shit it hell" she said, the devil dog, looking out the open door, replied, face still towards the hills bellow "So is that flying shit"! he added a grin to the end, and even after everything, she laughed.

...

Between 1967 and 1968, the United States Marine Corps and the North Vietnamese Army would clash in a series of battles in the hills and vallys around Khe Sann, and the US combat base located there. Khe Sahn sat close to the 17th parallel, and was the US's main base for interdiction missions against the Ho Chi Minh Trail that feed supplies to the VC and NVA troops operating in the south. The outlying hills were used as outposts, to guard against any major attacks, and were often targets of enemy artillery and night attacks. Khe Sanh was one of the war's bloodiest chapters.

274 American servicemen died in it's defense. It is unknown how many Vietnamese forces died trying to take it.