Chapter 5

The eight men sat uncomfortably on the hard bench seats lining the walls of the troop transport plane ferrying them to Vietnam. Their departure from their base on the Mexican border had been low key, but O'Malley had been there to see them off, the drill sergeant snapping smartly to attention as the big plane started to roll down the runway.

Their first couple of hours in the plane were taken up with nervous excited chatter as the soldiers talked over their missions and what was likely to be expected of them, but as the tedious journey continued, one by one they lapsed into silence, using their kit bags as pillows as they lay down on the hard metal floor of the plane and tried to get some sleep.

Traff and Starsky sat in one corner, talking companiably about any topic that sprang to mind. Starsky gave Traff a blow by blow account of his night with Yokino at the bar and Traff grinned, slapping his friend on the back when Starsky explained that she'd even given him his money back.

They talked about their childhoods and Starsky explained how his dad had been killed and how he's come to live in New York and Traff talked about his childhood in Boston. But eventually even their close friendship and eagerness to find out abut each other became slow and onerous and they too succumbed to sleep.

Hours later, the soldiers were awakened by the sound of the landing gear dropping and locking into place. They stretched and sat back up onto the hard seats as the wheels of the plane touched down in Saigon. Starsky had spent five years of his life in the balmy warm weather of the Californian coast, but nothing prepared him for the heat and humidity that hit him as the door of the plane opened and he took his first look at Vietnam. The moisture in the air seemed to wrap itself around him and sap the energy from him before he'd even set foot on solid ground and the scent of damp, hot vegetation drilled into his senses. It was a smell he would never forget to his dying day and one that would never again be associated with pleasant thoughts.

As a man, the group shouldered their packs and walked down the ramp of the troop carrier and to the waiting army trucks. Each one was an open backed wagon which could carry over twenty men at a push and again, the brunet and his friends found themselves on hard metal seats as their driver set the truck in motion and they rumbled off into the countryside towards CanTho and the Mekong Delta.

Everywhere he looked there were strange and almost exotic sights and if he blotted out the destruction and the looks of pain and hunger on the villager's faces, Starsky could almost enjoy the experience of being somewhere so incredibly foreign. But as they started to travel further south and into the deep lush countryside they had a rude awakening of what this war was all about. The truck was rumbling in convoy down a red sand road with pot holes deep as crevasses when overhead they heard the dull roar of a plane engine. The sergeant who had been at the airport to collect them, and who had been in 'Nam for seven months, looked skywards, squinting into the sun and shading his eyes with his hands.

He waited until he could identify the plane overhead, its bulk flying ever closer and yelled at the men in the truck.

'Welcome to 'Nam! Everybody out and down'.

They followed him as he jumped from the vehicle and leapt into the ditch which lined the road. Starsky and Traff hunkered down next to each other, jamming their helmets on their heads as they ducked their heads low. The plane flew low over the road and started firing, the bullets from its machine gun sending a tramline of divots running up the sandy road, kicking up sand and dirt on either side of the truck, which remarkably remained unscathed.

Up ahead, Starsky could see a group of villagers, frozen like rabbits in the headlights of a car. As the bullets came closer one of the women screamed and clutched her baby to her bosom, but her feet refused to move. The brunet stared in horror as the bullets bore down on them and made a snap decision. He nudged Traff and nodded and without thinking the two young soldiers, followed by three of the other men in the unit dived out of the ditch and ran hell for leather up the road. Starsky targeted the woman with the child and literally dived at her, knocking her down onto her back and covering her and the child with his body as he saw Traff, Merry, Tugs and Driver do the same. The soldiers remained pinned down as the dirt kicked up around them, and then, as suddenly as it had started, the strafing run ended and there was silence, broken only by the muffled sobs of the villagers.

Shyly, Starsky knelt up as the woman slithered out from beneath him, still clutching her child to her breast.

'Cam on bon, cam on bon' she kept repeating over and again, ducking her head down in a little bow. Starsky stared at her. She could be cursing him for all he knew, but somehow he didn't think so. He smiled at her and touched the baby's face with a grimy hand.

'Cute' he said softly, seeing the fear in the woman's eyes. She was young, no more than 15 or 16 and suddenly Starsky had an insight into how these ordinary folk were managing under extraordinary conditions.

He looked around, seeing the others picking themselves up and patting the dirt from their clothes.

'Are we all in one piece?' he asked generally.

'All apart from my nerves' Merry responded wryly. 'Some welcome huh?'

Starsky grinned. 'Yeah. Looks like it's gonna be an exciting kinda place'.

They retraced their steps back to the truck where the sergeant in charge was staring at them.

'What the fuck did you think you were doing solider?' he spat out at Starsky and Traff.

'They were scared Sarg. We were just tryin to….'

'You were trying to get yourselves killed, that's what you were trying to do. Now get back in the truck an' shuddup' the Sergeant thundered.

'But Sarg, ain't that what we're here for?' Traff asked, confused.

'No soldier, it aint. You're here to fight the enemy, not waste your life on some two bit villagers who'd probably kill ya as soon as look at ya. Now get back in the truck an' try to get yourselves back to the base in one piece huh?'

The men piled back into the vehicle and the rest of the three hour bumpy ride was accomplished in relative silence and without further incident. Their drive took them further south and as they drove the vegetation closed in around them. Villages seemed fewer here and the rice fields had given way to miles and miles of jungle, the perimeter of which bordered the road and seemed to close in around them. Starsky tried to peer into the gloomy depths, but it seemed almost impenetrable and he wondered just how they were expected to conduct a war thought all the trees and lianas.

Finally, after an exhausting ride, the truck drew into a clearing surrounded by green army tents, each neatly bordered by a set of white stones. It had obviously been there for some time and luckily the whole camp had not had to bunk out and move. The sergeant showed them to two tents, each sleeping four men on the north side of the camp and Traff, Starsky, Merry and Tugs ducked inside one and put their kit on the four narrow camp beds, looking around. The tent was big and quite spacious. They could stand up inside it and the four beds were arranged around a central tent pole, decorated with hooks for various bits of kit. A stove stood at the centre for heat when the cold winter finally arrived. Each bunk had a small cabinet next to it and was covered by a sheet and a blanket.

'Home sweet home' Traff said as he flopped down on his bunk and laced his hands behind his head.

'You call this home?' Starsky asked, amused.

The dark haired man snorted. 'After some of the orphanages I lived in, this is the Waldorf. We got everything we need. A bunk, a blanket an' hopefully some chow. By the way, where is the mess tent?'

An hour later, the four men, plus the four from the other tent were summoned to the Major's office, a smaller tent on the other side of the compound. They were surprised to see the same Major who'd been on their final test ground in Mexico and he smiled at them coolly. Major Sharpe was a tall man, standing well over 6'. He seemed to be Army though a through – a career soldier if ever there was one. He had his blond hair in the most severe buzz cut Starsky had ever seen, leaving him with the appearance of being almost bald. His face was florid, the red cheeks and forehead contrasting sharply with the green of his uniform and the red colouring extending down his neck and into the depths of his shirt. His features were sharp and rodent-like and he reminded Starsky of nothing more than a rat.

Startling pale blue, almost colourless eyes stared out of the thin face edged with sandy blond eyelashes and Sharpe's lips were thin and mean. His body was a muscular mass and his neck seemed not to exist, the illusion being of a head set atop shoulders with nothing in between.

He sat behind a large substantial regulation wooden desk and did not look up as the men filed in and stood to attention, waiting for him to notice them. He kept them waiting for almost three minutes before he looked up, put his pen down, sat back in his chair and appraised the new additions to his unit. His eyes roved over the two ranks of men before him, seeing eager faces and questioning eyes. His own eyes stopped on the two men centre front. Both had the same physique – lithe, muscular and almost cat like. Both also had ruggedly handsome faces for young men and both had piercing eyes, although one set was a stunning emerald green and the other an intense sapphire blue. The two gems in his unit? He wondered.

For the next 15 minutes, Sharpe gave them the run down of the unit, the area and the missions they were currently running. The men were to have one day to rest and recuperate from their journey, then they would be on active service and two of them would be running a covert mission. All eight men stiffened at the mention of what maybe their first job and Sharpe smiled to himself. Lambs to the slaughter. Only the best survived and he had a reputation for wanted the best from his men. He knew he was known as a tough son of a bitch. In fact he nurtured that reputation, cherishing it. And yet, to those of his men who deserved it; those he personally selected, he could be kindness itself.'

'Sergeant Lomas tells me you were attacked on your way here' he said matter of factly, his eyes raking the men in front of him.

Traff took it upon himself to answer for the group. 'Yes sir. There were a group of civilians caught in the live fire. We decided to help, Sir'.

'You decided to help?'

'Sir, they would have been killed otherwise' Tugs piped up from the back.

Sharpe's eyes hardened. 'No kidding! So you thought you'd risk thousands of dollars of tax payers money spent on your training by trying to get yourselves killed?'

'No Sir. But we couldn't just leave 'em' Starsky said defensively.

The Major turned his focus on the handsome soldier. 'You'll do exactly as your superior officers tell you, soldier. And if they tell you to leave a bunch of civilians you'll fuckin' well leave 'em. Got that'.

'But sir….'

'I said, have you got that?' Sharpe ground out.

Reluctantly Starsky backed down. 'Sir, yes Sir' he said without enthusiasm.

Sharpe sat back again in his chair, liking the attitude of the young man, but being careful not to show it. As he dismissed the young soldiers, his eyes lingered on the two dark haired recruits. They looked right. Young, eager……pretty.

Starsky, Traff, Merry and Tugs returned to their tent having thrown down some supper and a beer. It had been a long journey and they were all more tired than they could ever remember being, but the excitement of the new place, and the adrenaline of their first brush with the Vietcong made them remain awake, talking quietly and contemplating what the mission Sharpe had mentioned could be.