UPDATE: To the two kind Guests (or who I suspect was really just one guest) who implied that I have done no research- The first draft of this chapter included the words "POW snatch". I am sorry for any confusion there was on this subject on my part- I did not mean to imply that the men were rescued, and I certainly did not mention anything of a raid. I am more than aware of the lack of any succesful raids on any of the POW prison camps during the Vietnam War. I have had very close family who have served over many years. I had a great uncle serving in the Vietnam war, and just this morning was going over a letter he sent his parents. My own father was in the USAF until an injury prevented him from serving and he was given an honorable discharge. As well as the context in which this may have been taken, I apologize. However, I do ask that you please remember that this is a fiction, and any and all writers have literary freedom. If you don't like that these are not true-to-events, perfect synopsises of the war, then I would like to politely ask why you are reading fanfiction for a show that is also fiction? Anyway. I made a few changes in my sentence structure of the story so as not to give false ideas. I mean this all respectively. Thank you for your reviews.

AN: Hey guys. So, here's chapter two. I've actually had this typed up for a while, and decided I might as well post it. Just a thing I forgot to mention- these chapters won't be in chronological order. I'm trying not to put specific timestamps on the events, since it leaves freedom for the reader to decide, but obviously anything that takes place outside of the war is something that has happened after they were discharged.

Anywho. You all enjoy this chapter. Standard disclaimers apply.


Chapter Two (Follow the Leader)

"Become the kind of leader that people would follow voluntarily; even if you had no title or position." -Brian Tracy

It was nights like these that Hannibal could appreciate. It wasn't terribly hot- he'd gone through worse. The mosquito netting clinging to the sweat on his skin begged to differ, but with the weather in 'Nam, you took what you could get. The night was quiet, although a certain anticipatory air hung over the camp. Escaped POW's had been found and a confirmed pickup had been radioed in. The camp was waiting for the Medevac team to bring the men in. They'd only be there temporarily before being shipped off to a better hospital ward, but it was still a moment of victory that every soldier could relish in.

Hannibal glanced over at the sleeping form of the men that made up his unit- Lieutenant Templeton Peck snored gently from the bunk across from him. B.A. slept on the bed above him, but Hannibal had heard him fall asleep at least a half hour ago. Murdock was probably in his own barracks by now, or maybe at his chopper. Yes, nights like these were welcomed, pleasantly quiet lulls in the middle of chaos.

Except when they weren't.

Yelling was the first thing that Hannibal heard, half-asleep. The explosion that followed afterward made him sit up completely, smacking his head against the bottom of the bunk above him. B.A. dropped from the bunk above him and grabbed the firearm hanging from the bed post. Face was already heading out the door, and Hannibal followed quickly.

As they emerged from the cabin, they were temporarily blinded by the fire. Something- or someone- had tripped a wire on the north side of camp, resulting in the hot flames now licking at the sandy trenches surrounding the camp. A sergeant rushed past, and Hannibal managed to catch the young man's uniform sleeve.

"Report, Sergeant."

The young man opened his mouth to object just as he lifted his head to see Hannibal's face. When he saw the white-haired Colonel towering over him, the sergeant snapped to attention, saluting. Hannibal waved it off.

"What's going on?"

"Enemy fighters engaged Medevac chopper from the ground. Chopper holding the POW's went down, sir. They're one klick due South outside camp, roughly. No contact after they went down. One of the guards saw Charlie and fired off shots, and it all went to shit from there."

Hannibal nodded, looking off into the distance as if calculating his next move. The young soldier took his leave, running in the direction of yelling. From what the Colonel could tell, it was really all just a coincident- Charlie knew where they were, but their goal was only the final destruction of the snatched POW's. Hannibal wasn't sure the details of the extraction, but he was sure there was something else to it all as well.

"Colonel?" Face stepped up beside him, a questioning look in his eyes. Hannibal took one more glance around and reached for the semi-automatic weapon his second in command held out to him.

"Let's go." Hannibal moved out quickly, away from the fire and shouts. There were more than enough of them to deal with what sounded like a small enemy force. The fire wouldn't be much problem-trapped between the sand, it wouldn't go anywhere. The Colonel was more concerned with the downed chopper and the POW's who were in no condition to protect themselves.

Face's unspoken question was clearly answered when Hannibal lead them out of camp, bending to duck beneath the wire. One klick wasn't far- too close to the enemy for comfort, close enough to the base that Hannibal could hold out hope that they might, just might, get there in time.

As they crept closer, Hannibal kept his eyes peeled for any movement. Behind him to the left and right, B.A. and Face stalked silently along, making little noise. Hannibal would guess that most, if not all of the Viet Cong soldiers, would be occupied at the base. That would leave the chopper occupants free of most danger other than injuries sustained in the crash- but better safe than sorry.

Within minutes, the team came upon the remains of the chopper. It wasn't terrible, although two of the blades were snapped off and the Medevac chopper lay on its left side. Hannibal swore lightly under his breath, hurrying to the scene. Face watched the perimeter, leaving B.A. to do the heavy lifting.

"Shit, Hannibal." B.A. was crouched at the front of the chopper, a frown creasing his face. Hannibal could just see him in the dim moonlight. The sergeant shook his head, looking in through the broken windshield. The Colonel could tell without asking that the pilot hadn't made it. Crawling on top of the chopper, he yanked the door open and peered inside. A weak groan had him scurrying to help.

"Where're you hurt, soldier?"

The man inside grunted out an answer, pointing to his left leg. "Nothing else?" Hannibal knew all the protocol for not moving an injured man, but he'd rather take the risk than leave the soldier any possibility of being recaptured. The soldier informed Hannibal that the crew chief had only hit his head, and the two other POWs were alive, although injured as well. It took B.A. and Hannibal ten minutes to haul them all out. The first soldier couldn't walk on his own, blood still seeping from the open leg wound. The crew chief was coherent and offered to support the soldier.

"Hang tough," Hannibal nodded at them, hurrying back to help B.A. retrieve the other injured men. He could feel the eyes of the flight chief on his back, a mixture of wariness and exhaustion. Hannibal couldn't blame him- he hadn't had time to introduce himself, and to the crew chief, the colonel was just a soldier who happened to be there to help.

Just as they pulled the last POW from the chopper, Face rushed into the clearing, hissing at Hannibal.

"Charlie headed this way! Let's get outta here."

Hannibal shoved B.A. off in the direction of camp, the crew chief and wounded soldier following him closely. The black sergeant carried one of the POWs who still had yet to regain consciousness, leading the others through the brush toward camp. Face hauled the last POW to his feet, but the man crumpled. Face pulled the thin figure over his shoulder, sparing no time in following the other retreating men. Hannibal took rear, the body of the dead pilot slung over his shoulder.

The voices of Vietnamese language got closer momentarily, and the Colonel worried that they'd be found before given a chance to get back to base. Within a few minutes, however, the voices faded, exchanged for the silence of the jungle and an occasional yell.

They were within a few yards of the camp when it happened. There was a yell, and a command to stop. Guns cocking afterward backed up the order, and the whole group stopped. Hannibal glanced at his men- they were certainly in no condition to deal with the enemy. The man B.A. carried had yet to regain consciousness, while the flight chief's breathing was ragged and heavy as he fought to keep the injured POW beside him on his feet.

"Dừng lại! Stop! Dừng lại!"

Hannibal squinted through the moonlight at the figure holding the firearm. "Colonel Peterson?"

There was a pregnant pause, and then the man answered. "Declare yourself."

"Hannibal Smith. We've got injured men with us."

There was a small huddle of confusion before the group was swiftly lead back into camp and the injured men taken off their hands. Peterson had given Hannibal and his men a deadly glare as he ushered the team into the medic block, but Hannibal didn't seem fazed. He paced the camp, watching the fires being put out. Everything had been neutralized, he was told. Face and B.A. found Murdock and joined him in towing buckets of water to the fire.

"Colonel Smith?"

Hannibal turned at his name. The General stood behind him, observing the scene with tired eyes. Hannibal saluted, and the General returned it. He was lead into the main office and asked to sit down. Hannibal remained standing.

"So. You took two men and snuck off base on an unauthorized mission during the middle of an attack."

"Yes sir."

"You know what I'm supposed to say, Colonel."

"That it was a rookie thing, leading such a small team into a danger zone during an enemy attack. Also that we should've seen if we could help here, or at least told someone what we were doing- all of us could've been shot upon return since no-one was expecting us."

The General raised an eyebrow in his direction. "And now, what I'm going to say?"

It was Hannibal's turn to raise a questioning look to his commander's face. The general shook his head.

"You've done it again." The general held out a cigar, smirking. Hannibal gladly took it. He lit up, sat down to write his official report, and explained his earlier plan to the general as he wrote.


Not quite sure I like this one. R&R! I'm open to constructive criticism.