The Search

"Murdock, you're not helping!" Face briskly pulled the paperwork from the pilot's hand. Glancing at it, he returned the papers to the correct pile.

"C'mon, Faceman, tell me what I can do." Murdock gazed at him with those damn kicked puppy dog eyes.

He understood why Murdock was desperate to keep busy. None of them wanted the time to think. Thinking led to guilt. He'd already beaten himself up over the idea it was the Alpha team's involvement which had put the village on the VC's radar. If they hadn't been 'helping', their friends might not have suffered.

He really could do with Murdock's skills, though Face was hesitant to ask. The pilot was fluent in Vietnamese, for him the telephone conversations searching for Binh would be simple. At best Face's linguistic skills were passable in the field but he was coming up short trying to explain to administrators what he was doing. The useless, Army issue, translation manual sat well thumbed in front of him.

But looking at the pain still radiating in Murdock's eyes he didn't know if his buddy would cope. Face had mentally prepared himself to have Binh's death confirmed, but Murdock was ever the optimist. His crazy buddy saw beauty in the most mundane places. He could drag a chuckle from an exhausted soldier with a daft impersonation or have you smiling at a glorious sunset while ordinance exploded loudly in the jungle behind you.

Not only had Murdock gotten Face through those early days in country he'd also given him the will to keep fighting, the will to live, when they were prisoners in the camps. He owed the tall, lanky man his life in more ways than one. All Face wanted to do was protect him. Hell, he owed him that much.

His reverie was broken by a loud crash. He reacted on instinct, reaching for his sidearm and jumping to his feet. Seeing Murdock scrabbling around on the floor, Face rolled his eyes and replaced the gun.

"Darn paperclips, they're real pretty, but the critters get everywhere," Murdock explained, presenting a handful of the described items while he kneeled on the floor.

Face sighed, crouching down to join him, collecting up the various supplies Murdock had knocked off a shelf in the office he'd commandeered for the day.

"I don't have time for this," Face said, wincing slightly as he stood up with a box of staples, his stomach muscles feeling even more tender after his relative inactivity for the last few hours. It was the first day in nearly a week Face hadn't had to dig graves or careen through the jungle. Today the pain just added to his frustration. "I'm only halfway through the hospital list and this is a waste of space." He slammed the translation manual shut as he passed the desk while returning the staples to the shelf. A thought struck him and he stopped and turned back to his buddy. "Murdock, how the hell did you get everything to fall so far?" Face couldn't help laughing, realizing the debris was on the opposite side of the office from the shelf it had started on.

"It's a skill I didn't know I had, Faceman. Hey, when we find 'em bastards, do ya think Hannibal will let me throw the pineapples?" Murdock gave him a lopsided grin but his eyes betrayed his lack of humour.

"Let's focus on tracking down survivors first," Face suggested. He'd seen that look before, a dark beast would creep into Murdock and wrap its hands around his soul. In that frame of mind the pilot was goddamn dangerous. Face needed to bring him back, and quickly, fearing one day the darkness would take over and suffocate his best friend.

"Okay, Faceman," Murdock replied deceptively calmly, but Face knew him too well to be taken in by the facade.

He needed to engage the pilot and get his focus on another task. Reluctantly Face knew he had to let him help. "Bud, I could really use some coffee." He chuckled. "And Advil. Can you get us some, then do a bit of translation? We'll get through the list faster if we work together."

Face relaxed into a warm smile, watching Murdock visibly brighten.

"Sure thing, LT." Murdock snapped off a crooked salute and bounced out of the office.

Christmas Eve

Every step was treacherous as Face carefully made his way across camp. He slid as much as walked on the mud, his fatigues soaked through under the persistent rain. The air was filled with an unpleasant but familiar stench of diesel and rotting foliage. Inside a trash bag, he clutched the last few items he had to deliver, it was important they stayed dry - they were Christmas goodies. For a modest commission, Face had acquired extra booze and cigarettes plus a box of homemade cookies. Once he'd handed them over he would stop for some downtime.

He glanced at his watch, seventeen hundred. He could drop off the supplies, collect his profit and still meet Hannibal in time. The FOB was bursting at the seams with soldiers, men loudly shouting to each other as Face made his way through the base. The ceasefire called for Christmas meant anyone who could come in from the field had. Tonight's poker game in the mess would be very lucrative, which of course is why Hannibal had arranged it.

"Faceman! Face, I've found 'em." Murdock's Texan drawl stopped him in his tracks.

He turned to see Murdock skidding and stumbling towards him, the pilot's long legs a hindrance more than a help on the slick path. He'd left Murdock making the last few follow up calls, after five days of dead ends and false leads Face had given up. Now the wet Captain radiated infectious joy despite his wild non-regulation hair being plastered to his head in the dismal weather. Face couldn't help grinning as a seed of hope grew.

"Where? Are you sure?" Face fired back, reaching out a hand to brace himself as Murdock careened into him.

"It's a small hospital about twenty miles southeast of the village." Murdock regained his balance, looking at him flushed despite the rain which brought little relief from the oppressive heat. "An ARVA recon unit picked up a woman and baby matching their description."

Quickly processing the information, or lack thereof, Face asked hesitantly, "Is Laken too badly hurt to tell them it's her?" He knew Binh's mother would've done anything to keep her baby safe even if it cost her her own life.

"The nurse who called said the mom isn't physically injured." Murdock swiped the rain away from his forehead and frowned before continuing. "She hasn't spoken since the soldiers got her to the hospital."

"Oh." Face couldn't hide the disappointment in his voice. How many women and babies turned up, displaced by this cruel war? Too many. The odds that it was them...were slim to none.

"We gotta check." Murdock's cheeks puffed out with determination. "I gotta check."

"Okay, I'll see who's on the ground and get them to go visit, get a photo or at least a detailed description," Face replied.

"No, Faceman, I need to see with my own eyes. Can you get me a bird?"

"Not this close to nightfall. Anyways, they'll all be out picking up teams," he explained soothingly, seeing anger flash in his buddy's eyes. "Tomorrow's out, so the next day?"

"I can fly at first light. I'm gonna go tomorrow," Murdock said forcefully. "It's not just you who can scam stuff. I'll get a bird and go by myself."

Face rolled his eyes, realizing his plan to get blind drunk for Christmas Day was no longer happening. His friend might be crazy but he was only demanding what Face also wanted to know. "Let's go speak to the Colonel," he said with a small smile. He'd scam a chopper and Hannibal would come up with a plan. Hell, if it was true it'd be the best fucking Christmas present the team could have.

Murdock threw an arm over Face's shoulders enthusiastically, nearly causing them both to topple over on the oil slick-like ground. "Sure thing, Muchacho."

The first thing Face noticed on entering the officers mess was the unnatural quiet. All eyes were focused on the card game in the center of the room.

Hannibal sat at a large table surrounded by soldiers, his cards face down with only a small pile of money left in front of him. One other player remained in the game. Ginger, sitting opposite the colonel, pushed some bills forward, calling the bet. The red haired door gunner had a look of pure delight as he flipped his hand over, displaying a flush.

Theatrically, Hannibal sighed and showed his losing hand.

"Too easy, Colonel, you're making this too easy," Ginger crowed, dragging the pot towards him.

Face tugged uncomfortably at the collar of his fatigues, it was all part of a well rehearsed plan. Hannibal was softening up the other players, letting them win while awaiting Face's arrival, at that point they'd work as a silent tag team to fleece the other guys. The communication system they had developed in the field to warn of danger would be seamlessly adapted to improve their odds. Face had run the scam with Hannibal many times, they'd share hidden signals to divulge the quality of their respective hands and place bets accordingly. Face grimaced knowing the colonel needed to start planning and wasn't going to win his money back this evening.

A few of the other soldiers were laughing at Hannibal's losing streak. Seeing the man known for winning in all aspects of life crashing so dramatically was causing much amusement. Most had obviously consumed a fair amount of drink despite how early it was, everyone already winding down for Christmas.

"Ah, Face, care to join us?" Hannibal asked casually, turning to look at him, still running on the well rehearsed script.

Face quickly flicked his eyes over to Murdock and back to Hannibal.

The older man read it straight away. "Gentlemen," he said addressing the table. "I'll sit this hand out, I have some business to address." He started to rise from his seat.

Throughout, Murdock had been fidgeting next to Face. He shoved his hands in his pockets and hopped from foot to foot, puffing his cheeks out and huffing with unspent frustration. Finally unable to contain himself any longer he took a large stride towards Hannibal. 'I've found 'em. Binh's alive."

Hannibal dropped all pretence and sat heavily on the seat, a giant smile slapped across his face.

In a rush Murdock continued. "Laken, she can't speak, but her and Binh are okay. Or I think they are. I don't know, they don't know, but I'm sure. I got a gut feeling. We gotta go check. We gotta go-" Face put his hand on Murdock's arm to stop his verbal diarrhea.

Every gaze in the mess was now focused on the overly excited, rambling pilot and motionless colonel.

Hannibal looked at Face and raised his eyebrows, silently requesting a full report.

"A young mom and her baby were picked up in the jungle. They're unharmed but the woman is mute," Face explained quietly. He heard breaths catch around the room. A lot of these guys knew about Binh. In the middle of a war, two green berets becoming midwives in itself was big news, many of them had wet the baby's head even though they'd never met her. Men fervently clinging to the hope a new innocent life brought. They were also aware their unofficial symbol of peace had been wiped out.

"It'd be a fucking Christmas miracle if it's them," Ginger said, rubbing his hand over his eyes in disbelief.

"The Lord moves in mysterious ways."

All eyes pivoted towards an unassuming Padre. Reverend Taylor stepped out of the corner. Face was more than a little surprised to see him, they'd met in Saigon not long after the camps. Face had sought his guidance while trying to deal with life after being a guest of the Viet Cong. He looked at his friend, furrowing his brow with confusion.

"Flew in today to minister sermons tomorrow," the reverend explained. "Now we could be witnessing a true act of God."

Murdock was bouncing. "Ooh! Ooh! We're like the wise men gonna find Jesus."

"More the shepherds," Hannibal chuckled, pulling a cigar out of his fatigues. "Lieutenant, when do we ship out?"

Face tossed his zippo to the colonel. "Tomorrow, first light if I can work out a way."

"We need gold, myrrh and frankincense. We can't go on Christmas Day without gifts can we, Padre?" Murdock asked, rocking onto the balls of his feet.

Reverend Taylor laughed. "Captain, if you've found your angel, gifts are a wonderful idea."

"The mom and baby are in a small hospital," Face explained.

Taking a long drag on his cigar Hannibal looked thoughtful. "Can you source some med supplies...and maybe some food?"

Face grinned back, they'd seen the conditions at the local non-military clinics, anything he could get hold of would be helpful. The medical teams were often working without even the bare essentials, treating patients on hope, a wing and a prayer. "I'm sure I can get some short-dated stuff."

"Do you need a door gunner?" Ginger asked.

"If you're volunteering, Sergeant," Hannibal replied nodding.

"I'll come," Poison, a senior crew chief, offered. "When do we report for duty, Sir?"

"Hang on guys," Face said, nervously swiping a hand through his still wet hair. He was good but could he source a chopper on Christmas Day? "We haven't got permission to go anywhere yet. The birds are all grounded for the ceasefire."

"Not quite," Reverend Taylor interjected. "There's a macvee flight taking letters and gifts to the troops still in the field. Not sure who they've roped into doing it."

Face looked at Hannibal, awaiting a barely perceptible confirmation nod. Seeing it, he smiled confidently. "I'll fix it."

"We're gonna be like Santa," Murdock virtually squealed with excitement.

"Let's start a collection." Ginger pushed his winnings back towards Hannibal.

Instantly soldiers were rummaging in their fatigues adding to the pile, more offers soon filled the air.

"My girl sent me some candy, you can have it."

"I've got some cookies."

"Do ya think they'd want pens?"

"Boots?"

Face beamed at the generosity of his comrades. He glanced at Murdock who'd found an ammo can and was stuffing the money inside. He felt relief they'd stopped the devil possessing his best friend. Face really hoped it was going to be Laken and Binh, Murdock wouldn't cope if it wasn't. Damn, none of them would cope.

Pineapples, grenades

ARVA, Army of the Republic of Vietnam; the South Vietnamese Regular Army.