Chapter 9

Monday saw the four men back at the camp and ready for the next round of missions, rest days, camp food and sleep. Tugs and Merry had gotten themselves a couple of girls over the weekend too and Starsky and Traff chuckled when the other two men told them of their escapades. Yep, all in all, they'd all had a pretty cool weekend pass and for a while, Starsky could even forget the encounter with his CO.

About 11:00 on the Monday morning, Sharpe's Corporal came to their tent, where they'd been lounging on their bunks and regaling each other with stories of how good their respective girls had been. Corporal Millin had been Sharpe's aid for almost a year and the young, fresh faced boy had always had a worn and hunted look which Starsky had put down to homesickness and poor diet. Now, as he looked at the teenager again, he suddenly realised that the deathly pale complexion and the dark circles around Millin's eyes might, in fact, be due to the Corporals extra curricular activities. He felt bad for the young man and sat up as he came into the tent.

'Corporal Trafford. The Major would like to see you in his office right now' he said formally then relaxed. 'He seems pretty pissed Traff. I wouldn't hang around huh?'

Traff grinned at him. 'Wouldn't want to keep the CO waiting would we? What's the old goat want?'

Millin snorted. 'You're askin' me? Like I ever know anythin'! Just get your butt over there quick'.

'My butt huh? Is that what this is all about?' Traff said, flashing a sideways look at Starsky who stifled a laugh. He got off his bunk and departed, trotting across the compound quickly and arriving at the Major's office tent smartly. He ducked inside, stood to attention and saluted.

'Corporal Trafford reporting as ordered Sir' he said as the Major looked up.

'Corporal I want you on the Jeep waiting out back now. There's an urgent escort job come up and I want you to take charge. The Sergeant will fill you in. Dismissed'.

'Isn't Starsky part of this Sir?' Traff asked. He'd never been sent on a mission alone before. In fact it was unheard of.

'I said alone Corporal. Is that clear enough? It's a small escort duty. Nothing dangerous. They just want one man riding shotgun. Are you sure you can handle that? Or shall I ask one of the cooks to go instead? I'm sure they'd be able to handle it'.

Traff stiffened. 'No, Sir. I'll head back and get my gear'.

'No need. They have rifles in the jeep and they're waiting. Dismissed'.

Traff saluted, turned on his heel and left, wondering what this was all about. As he got into the truck and was driven away, he saw Millin heading back to his tent.

'Sharpe wants the rest of you in his tent now' he announced to the three remaining men…..and don't ask me what for, I still don't know' he continued as he saw Tug's mouth open.

The three men walked quietly across the compound and presented themselves at Sharpe's tent, saluting and standing to attention.

'Stand easy' the Major said. 'I have a special mission for the three of you. Its top secret and you will take it. Senator Thorpe's son, Mark was with the 7th Battalion. They were stationed outside Chong Dai. Two days ago the entire camp was attacked and Private Thorpe its believed has been taken prisoner. We know the Vietcong have a large facility on the outskirts of Nah Am. It's your mission to get in there, get Private Thorpe out and get your asses back here. Got that?'

'How do we go in Sir?' Starsky asked, his concerns with Sharpe temporarily forgotten.

'You'll be flown in by high level plane and make a halo jump to within a mile of the facility. From there you're on your own. Corporal Starsky, you will be in command of the operation. You now the drill. Look after the men under your command and get them back safely'.

'Where's Traff?' the brunet continued, calculating odds.

'He's on another mission. He won't be joining you'.

'But Sir. We always go o…'

'Do you have a problem soldier?' Sharpe thundered, his face and neck reddening.

Starsky bit back the comments, torn between questioning the decision and wanting to know why Sharpe had split them up. 'No Sir' he replied quietly. 'When do we ship out?'

'An hour. You'll walk to these co-ordinates, then the loach will pick you up and fly you over to the plane. You go in light, fast and careful. Any questions?'

'What happens if we don't find Thorpe?' Merry asked

'Don't even go there son' Sharpe shot back and lowered his eyes back to his work.

The three men quickly got sufficient kit together and started to walk through the jungle towards the 'copter pick up point. They were quiet, each harbouring their own thoughts about the mission. This was what they'd trained for, but it felt odd to be one man light and it set a sombre air over the mission, as though they were somehow doomed before they'd even started just because Traff wasn't with them. Starsky had dark thoughts about the Major. Would Sharpe really be petty enough to split him and Traff up on the strength of the snub Starsky had given him in the bathroom? Surely not! Surely his military career would have been on the line if his sexual preferences were made public. The brunet put the dark thoughts out of his mind, instead concentrating on the mission. Sharpe had put him in command – an honour, and at the same time so much responsibility. He looked at Merry and Tugs. There was no animosity. They took his command as read and were willing to follow any orders he cared to give. But did he really want to order his friends around? He didn't think so. Instead, he would try to operate as a well oiled machine. Get in, grab Thorpe and get out. Simple!

Starsky eyed the Loach with mistrust. Smaller than the Huey at least this copter had doors, although it was very much smaller than the other bird had been. The three got into the back and the single pilot flipped them a quick salute and lifted off as the brunet made a swift, self conscious grab for the door handle. He snorted to himself. Some fine, brave commander you are Davey boy!

The copter flew them to the aircraft and they changed vehicles. The plane was basic and they suited up, the patchwork of jungle and rice paddy clearings all too familiar now as the soldiers looked down on the terrain and soon the plane started to slow down. Nah Am was not too far from the village that Starsky had visited the weekend before and he saw it now in the far distance as they turned south west – the only civilisation fro miles around. As it slowed, the men jumped and landed without too much drama and as they packed their chutes, Starsky lead his men out of the drop site, remembering the pilot's directions.

'You have a day. A loach be back at the same drop zone at 20:00 tomorrow. The orders are to wait around for 30 minutes then return whether you're with them or not'.

'Gotcha' Starsky replied curtly, aware that Sharpe hadn't mentioned that little snippet. And stupidly, he'd never thought to ask. He shouldered his pack and with a nod, set off walking into the jungle.

The air once again was oppressive and as he looked upwards through the towering trees, the curly haired soldier caught glimpses of a sky that was grey and heavy with unshed rain. It was the beginning of the rainy season now and each day started bright and hot. The temperature rose steadily throughout the morning, culminating in highs over 100 degrees although the humidity was also over 85 percent. By 14:00, the clouds started to gather and one hour later, the heavens would open and the deluge would begin. Starsky looked at his watch – almost 15:00. shit, you could set your clock by this weather!

The started to walk, picking up the pace. Although they'd lived in the climate now for almost 6 months, the brunet and his friends could never quite get used to it. Movement made him sweat. Breathing made him sweat. Hell, even thinking seemed to have the same effect. His clothes were always damp and even in the relative cool after the rain, there was no respite from the wet and his clothes never truly dried out. He was wet, uncomfortable and tired for most of the time but with everyone else, he ploughed on regardless.

The jungle in this stretch of the country was more dense than it was around his camp and vegetation grabbed at his booted feet so that he tripped and staggered through the vague paths made by unidentified animals. Behind him, he could hear Tugs and Merry cursing under their breath as they too fought their way through. They came to wide, but slow moving river and Starsky crouched, his hand held up and fisted as he signalled his men to stop. Cautiously he crawled forward on his belly until he could see up and down the overgrown river bank. There was no sign of life and he got quietly to his knees as he prepared to plunge into the greasy looking green tinged water. Tugs and Merry followed him until they were all waist high in the murky depths, rifles held two handed, high above their heads. The bottom was slimy and slippery and the current tugged at their bodies, but the water wasn't cold and the strength of the current wasn't sufficient to pull them off their feet. They had almost gained the other side when Starsky heard a twig snap on the bank in front of him. He froze and felt the others come to a halt behind him.

Uncertain whether this was an animal or whether they were about to be ambushed, the brunet made the decision to plough on quickly, reasoning that they would have more ability to fight of they gained the bank. He pushed on, the water giving resistance and making him struggle to put one foot in front of the other. Progress was agonisingly and frustratingly slow and he longed just to be able to launch himself full length and swim for the bank, knowing that would be quicker, but he needed to keep his rifle dry at all costs and so was left with no option but to fight the current.

Slowly they made their way to the bank, the breath whistling in their throats as they looked left and right, scanning for any sign of what had made the noise. As Starsky started to climb the greasy bank opposite, he heard another noise and caught sight of a small deer fleeing into the undergrowth. Was that it? Was that what he'd heard? His nerves relaxed a little as he reached down and started to pull Tugs out of the water. Merry came next and they stood on the bank, regaining their breath and taking stock of their position. Looking at his compass, the brunet took another bearing and set of on a line diagonally through the dense undergrowth. Above him the rain started to fall, lightly at first but within minutes the drops were large and fat and spattered off his helmet, deafening him as they plinked against the metal and bounced off the leaves above him.

The ferocity of the downpour hammered loose leaves from the trees and they too fell to the jungle floor so that it was as thought the men were walking through a green snow storm. Larger twigs and branches that had become dislodged rained down with the droplets and within seconds all three men were drenched, the rain trickling down their collars and seeping through their trousers to run in rivulets into their boots. They squelched onwards, deafened now by the tropical downpour, their visibility reduced even further but the curtain of water surrounding them.

There was never really a chance for them to see or hear the small raiding party of Vietcong who came up behind them. They had no way of protecting themselves or hiding. They never heard the shouted command in stilted English to halt, but they did come to a rapid stop when the shot ricocheted above their heads.

Starsky dived for the ground, his training taking over from his conscious mind and he heard his friends do the same behind him. He waited, his heart hammering in his ears until he saw the shiny toe of a boot in front of his nose and looked up into the face of the enemy.