Chapter 14
Lying sprawled out on his side, BA waded slowly back into consciousness. The rich, rotten decay of the jungle, mixed with the hot, acrid taste of spent gunpowder lingered in his dry mouth. Hazy, confused memories of the jungle firefight and frantic scramble into the chopper returned to him—bullets and mud…blood and pain…the Viet Cong surrounding them…
Fighting back the memories, he shifted slowly, pain flaring from the throbbing wounds in his shoulder and leg. He allowed only one low groan to escape his lips before he stilled, sullenly listening to the pulsing whump-whump of chopper blades.
Flying—his breath hitched at the thought, and a new cavernous, insatiable swell of terror started to grow in his chest. He muffled another groan, born of dread rather than pain, and, longingly recalled the days when he hadn't been afraid to fly—before that one fateful day…
His thoughts quickly shifted back to the present though as he realized that the steady rhythm of the Huey seemed to be retreating. He tentatively flexed his left hand and was relieved when his fingertips caressed a patch of soft, damp soil. They were out of the chopper.
Any feelings of celebration on BA's part gave way as he overheard Hannibal's voice— solemn, tinged with the harsh, dogged tenacity of a commander pushed to an extreme. And if that wasn't enough to worry the sergeant, the fact that Hannibal was conversing in Vietnamese did the trick.
Shit; had they been captured by the Viet Cong? Even though his body was numb, begging for him to shift his position, he stayed frozen in place, straining to listen to the conversation, but he didn't know enough Vietnamese to tell what the hell Hannibal was saying.
Not daring to give away the fact that he was conscious, BA slowly, blindly groped at the ground beside him, hoping to find his rifle, but he had no such luck.
Opening his eyes, the first thing he spotted was the dark outline of a lone Huey gliding away over the horizon. Must have been Murdock…BA frowned up at the sky, wondering where the pilot was going but then realized he really didn't give a damn. Hell, as long as the chopper was gone, he didn't have to worry about flying.
With some luck, maybe the fool will get himself shot down…won't hafta worry about getting on that bird again then…
The wash of guilt BA felt after conjuring that notion nearly made him sick. He wasn't that kind of person—at least he'd never been before. What would his mama have thought of him for that? But for as much as he tried to convince himself that he hadn't meant it, the shame still remained.
With a heavy, guilty sigh, still laid out on his side in the damp mud, he tilted his head and peered over at Hannibal.
It only took him a moment to spot the snarling panther and faded star painted onto the Vietnamese soldier's helmet. Instantly recognizing the mark of the ARVN Ranger, BA relaxed. They must have made it to Dong Xoai. They were safe.
Still, an edge of tension remained as he watched the two men. Even with his shitty understanding of Vietnamese, BA could sense the direness of what was being said. Hannibal seemed to choose his words very carefully, and the ARVN ranger—a captain by the looks of him— listened with mouth pursed, eyes fixed, unblinking, on the colonel.
Behind the two men, the rest of the ARVN platoon stood, watching, giving mumurs of unrest as they listened to what was being said. When Hannibal finally went silent, the ARVN captain gave a quick shout, summoning one of his men forward. After a few brief words from the captain, the soldier dashed off across the rice paddy.
BA watched him go, noticing for the first time the flurry of activity not far off—must have been the Dong Xoai SF camp.
The conversation between Hannibal and the ARVN captain continued, though BA had a hard time mustering any interest in it. What the hell did it matter if he couldn't understand them? Shit; maybe learning a little Vietnamese wouldn't be such a bad thing…
Slowly, he sat up, trying to ignore the black spots dancing in his vision as shocks of pain ran up his leg and through his shoulder. He'd almost recovered from the dizziness when Face's sudden shout caused him to flinch, bringing back the flare of pain.
"What the hell, Hannibal?"
BA glanced up to see Face limping toward Hannibal, though it was obvious through his movements that Peck was trying to downplay the discomfort of his injury.
"ARE YOU SERIOUS?" The exasperation in Face's voice was only emphasized as he, panting hard, ground to a halt inches away from Hannibal. Almost nose to nose with the colonel, Face's tone went flat, dangerous even. "He's gonna die up there because of you."
"Stand down, Lieutenant…"
Hell, BA had never seen the colonel hold his shit together so well. Under any other circumstances he was pretty sure Face would have been in a world of hurt after pulling that crap.
All eyes were on Face and Hannibal, even those of the ARVN soldiers. There was no way the colonel could let Face off free and clear after that outburst.
Face's expression was certainly no longer set in its usual controlled mask. Jaw clenched, eyes blazing, he glared definitely at the Colonel, waiting. When no response was quick in coming, Face finally spoke again. "The chopper skids are loaded with explosives? And we left him up there, by himself to deal with that?"
Explosives? BA felt his breath catch. The Huey had been loaded with explosives and they still got on it. What the hell?
Hannibal gave a deep, ugly scowl, his gaze bearing down on Face with the icy intensity of winter gale. "Did it really look like I had a choice when it came to leaving the chopper? Did it? Because, as I recall it, that friend of yours decided that he wanted to be up there alone. He went as far as to push a colonel out of that bird…"
BA frowned. Murdock had pushed Hannibal out of the chopper? Damn; the pilot was even crazier than he'd thought.
In the distance a dull explosion sounded and everyone froze, staring off over the fields.
"Must be Murdock and that kid he picked up in the jungle…" Hannibal muttered. "…trying to clear off the skids."
Silence returned as they all strained to listen—giving audible sighs of relief as they heard the gentle thump of chopper blades still humming along.
Face spoke again, his anger clearly ebbing out of his voice as he glanced back at Hannibal. "You didn't have any choice…"
Closest thing to an apology BA had ever heard out of Face. Well, it was the closest thing to an honest apology he'd ever heard out of Face anyway.
"He's a damn good pilot, right?" Hannibal offered up a strained smile. "You said he was one of the best. He'll make it." But the Colonel's tone lacked confidence, and they could all hear it.
Still focused on Hannibal and Face, BA flinched as a group of ARVN soldiers suddenly appeared beside him with a stretcher.
Oh, hell no… There was no way he was letting that happen—unfortunately, they didn't see it that way.
"I'm fine…" He growled, slapping away the hand of the young Vietnamese man lifting the gauze on his leg to get a peek at his wound. "I can make it on my own."
A look of confusion crossed the ARVN soldier's face before he gave a broad smile and pointed to BA's leg and shoulder. He spoke softly, slowly, with a reassurance that transcended language barriers, but still BA wouldn't' give in.
Another low explosion sounded in the distance, followed by a third.
After a short pause, staring uncertainly into the distance from where the explosions sounded, the soldiers again moved as if they were going to load BA onto the stretcher and again BA forced them away. He could see that Dom was already loaded onto a stretcher, being carried off with Callaghan close by his side.
The smiling young soldier at his side gave him a gentle pat on the shoulder—more soft words of Vietnamese drifting from his mouth. BA glared up at him. Couldn't the guy take a hint?
The ARVN Ranger's face was plump, fully round and filled with an honest, simple joy that BA hadn't seen in a long time…not in 'Nam anyway. His happy eyes sparkled as he continued to smile down at BA.
Voice as smooth as silk, the jolly young soldier spoke again. "Xin vui lòng, hãy cho chúng tôi giúp đỡ. Vết thương của bạn là không tốt."
"Man," BA growled, "I don't understand you…" He paused to wave him off. "Just go away. I said I'm fine."
"Well, he says…"
BA glanced up, finding Face standing beside him with the other ARVN soldiers.
"…that your wounds are not good. They just want to help."
BA did a quick survey of this leg and shoulder. Hell, they did look gruesome and felt even worse, but he wasn't about to let anyone carry him, not if he had any say in the matter. "Tell them I'm fine," he huffed, knowing full well it was a lie.
Face smiled softly as he turned to the ARVN soldiers. "Tôi sẽ có được anh ta."
More faint explosions sounded in the background, Face flinching at each.
The smiling soldier eyed the lieutenant for a moment before turning to his comrades with a few hushed words. Then, the other ARVN men moved off with the stretcher, leaving the cheery ranger alone with BA and Face.
The happy expression never leaving his face, the soldier gave Face a thumb's up. "Tên tôi là Phuoc Huu. Tôi sẽ giúp bạn."
BA groaned. "Faceman…why ain't the fool leaving with the others?"
"Well…he says his name is Phuoc Huu and he seems to think he's going to help me haul your big ol' heavy ass to the Dong Xoai camp."
Before BA could protest, Phuoc Huu already had a hold of his good arm, hauling him up. Stifling the cries of pain that tried to escape him, BA managed to wobble to his feet, only leaning very lightly on Face as he moved in to help as well; he knew Peck was already hurting enough—he didn't need to be taking on any extra burdens.
Slowly, they started out after the rest of the group. Ahead, BA could see Hannibal and Ray still exchanging information with the ARVN captain.
"Face…" BA panted, trying to keep his pace steady. "…what the hell is going on, exactly?"
Through gritted teeth, Face chuckled. "Well—let's see—Murdock is about to blow himself to smithereens, I'm wounded, you're wounded, and I think Hannibal is wounded, but who can really tell with the Colonel. Dom is bleeding to death, and, well, it looks like we've just landed at the Dong Xoai base camp as it's about to be overrun with Viet Cong. I guess word has been sent to the 118th Aviation Company in Bien Hoa that we'll need reinforcements, but I imagine it will take a while for them to pick up the necessary troops and come over here to save our asses. Other than that..." He paused to give another dry laugh. "…everything is just peachy."
BA shrugged. "Well…at least Ray and Callaghan aren't injured…yet." He'd spoken without thinking over what he was saying, and it wasn't until Face gave a loud laugh that he realized the ridiculous of the statement.
"That's rich, BA…" Face smiled. "Didn't know you had a sense of humor."
"Me neither," BA replied, grinning despite his pain.
Hell, even Phuoc Huu gave a chuckle, even though he probably didn't know what the hell they were saying.
The trek to the camp was slow, and by the time they arrived, BA was fully exhausted. His main concern was getting to someplace fortified before he collapsed, so he was more than a little irritated when Face halted before they had reached safety.
"What the hell, man. We gotta…" But BA paused as he glanced up and caught sight of a man in a flight suit with his back to them talking with Hannibal.
Face lurched forward, dragging BA and Phuoc Huu with him, but as they neared the Colonel, it was clear that the flight suit clad man wasn't Murdock.
"Who the hell is this?" Face asked, letting go of BA—causing the sergeant to lean a little heavier on Phuoc Huu; he really hoped he didn't crush the little plump man.
The pale, dark haired kid in the flight suit wheeled around, his wide, frantic gaze moving from Face to BA and then back again. He took a shaky breath before answering. "Warrant Officer Oswald Grimstone."
"This…" Hannibal added. "…was the guy Murdock picked up in the jungle. He was acting as co-pilot on the Huey for us."
In the long pause that followed, BA could actually hear Face draw in and hold his breath as he stared at the young Warrant Officer. It had to be clear to them all, the question burning in Face's head—the one he seemed reluctant or even afraid to ask.
Finally, unable to endure the silence any longer, BA formed the words Face could not. "Where's Murdock?"
Oswald held his rigid stance, eyeing the sky vacantly for a few seconds before answering. "He's still flying—couldn't get the left skid cleared…"
BA wished to god he'd been looking anywhere but at Peck's face when he'd heard that news. Hell; that was a form of pain he didn't even think the cocky young lieutenant was capable of, but there it was—that strained ugly grief wrinkling his brow, glistening in his eyes.
"Shit…" The whispered curse was all Face gave as he turned away.
Hannibal stepped forward, gracefully taking the attention off Face. "Everyone keep moving. I need you inside the compound now."
The pulse of chopper blades nearing drew all their attention, and, as they looked up, the lone Huey and her pilot made their way across the darkening sky over the camp. BA watched with sad fascination, wondering what thoughts were going through the doomed pilot's mind.
"God damn it," Hannibal snapped. "I told you all to…"
But his words were cut off as the first mortars from the Viet Cong began to drop on the camp.