Another chapter!
I don't own the A-Team, blah, blah etc.
Regarding some military/pilot slang used in this chapter:
Charlie/VC: Viet Cong
Charlie Foxtrot: slang for clusterfuck
CO: Commanding Officer
Fast Movers: Fighter Jets
FUBAR: Fucked Up Beyond All Recognition
Hooch: Living quarters, or a basic hut or dwelling.
KIA: Killed in Action
MIA: Missing in Action
Naped: Napalmed
Zapped: killed
I probably missed some -sorry. This chapter is a bit darker, not too bad. In addition, this might be rife with spelling errors, bad grammar or overall bad writing. You've been warned!
XXX
Cambodia/Vietnam Border, July 3, 1969, 09:00 hours
"I said get those fast movers in here NOW," Lieutenant Colonel 'Hannibal' Smith barked into the radio. "Stand by for metrics." He shoved the radio at Lieutenant Peck, who began the relay of coordinates.
Yellow smoke coiled from a nearby grenade, winding its way through haphazard rows of men. A few groaned and a few cried, but most were eerily silent. Among the silent were three of Hannibal's own. Three letters he'd have to write to anxious mothers.
Hannibal paused to consider the corpse nearest him, a young towheaded private. The pale sweep of his lashes and the hand settled on his chest gave him the look of a sleeping child. The snarl of his spilt intestines and the raw tatters of his legs stood as a testament to his last kiss goodnight – a claymore mine.
The whir of approaching choppers interrupted Hannibal's dismal train of thought, and instead replaced it with a fresh grim revelation.
There won't be enough body bags.
Staccato pops from the wild tangle of jungle nearby sounded as the medevac approached. The three choppers flew in a loose V formation, but broke apart as the intermittent gunfire became a steady barrage. Hannibal silently cursed the inbound F-4 Phantoms that had yet to deliver their dangerous payload.
The birds began evasive maneuvers, the rearmost pilot proving particularly acrobatic. He swept low over the treeline and touched down, feather-light, about ten meters from Hannibal's position.
The remainder of Hannibal's Alpha Team mobilized, ferrying stretchers and body bags to the medevacs. The colonel himself approached the nearest Huey at a crouching run and nearly laughed aloud as a familiar, youthful face peered out of the cabin.
Murdock adjusted his hat and burst into an impromptu version of Led Zeppelin's "Dazed and Confused", in a warm, rich baritone.
"Captain Murdock," Hannibal greeted him with a handshake, "you're not medevac – how'd you end up on this run?"
Murdock popped a grin, snapped a salute and then shook Smith's hand.
"CO wants to see you back at Da Nang. I think he wants to have a little confab about this Charlie Foxtrot," Murdock said. "No wounded on this flight."
"I wouldn't mind having a word with Barrett either!" Hannibal snapped as Face shoved BA past him and into the cabin.
"Not this fool again!" the sergeant protested, climbing back out of the Huey.
"Aw get back in there, ya big angry mudsucker," Murdock said, slapping BA on the back and climbing into the cockpit.
"Mudsucker? Mudsucker!" BA raged "I'm gonna turn you into a fistsucker, you-"
"Get in the bird Sergeant!" Hannibal interrupted, climbing in to the cabin.
Murdock hummed cheerfully as he lifted off. It was overcast, but the gravid clouds had yet to yield rain. Instead, two F-4 Phantoms pierced the gray tapestry of the sky. Within moments the dense jungle to the west, still crackling with gunfire, bloomed red and orange.
Murdock banked sharply, leaving the napalm strike and certain death behind him.
xxx
Da Nang, July 3, 1969 15:00 hours
Colonel Barrett drained the last of the scotch from his glass. The four men stood before him at ease, though none of them looked exceptionally comfortable. Three of them, Smith and his men, were furious. The fourth, Captain HM Murdock, scrunched his hat in his long hands, seemingly unsettled by the yelling match initiated by Smith.
"The intel-" Hannibal started.
"I gave you what I had Smith!" Barrett snapped.
Hannibal heard BA shift restlessly beside him. The big sergeant displayed uncharacteristic self control.
Even I want to jump across the desk and throttle him.
"You fed us into a meat grinder, Colonel. Three of my boys got zapped. An entire platoon of the 25th infantry is either KIA or MIA. Furthermore, the village in question was nothing but a VC weapons dump, no VIPs," Hannibal replied, straining to be civil.
Barrett waved his hand dismissively. "It's done now, Smith. I'm giving you boys four days R&R," he poured another scotch and took a seat at his desk.
Face snorted irritably.
Hannibal glared, his bright blue eyes sharp with contempt.
"Will that be all sir?"
Barrett waved his hand again, and downed his drink.
"Dismissed."
xxx
Da Nang, July 4, 1969 – 14:30 hours
"You know," Murdock said thoughtfully, replacing the black bishop with his white knight. "You're pretty bad at chess."
"Don't I know it," Katie Dixon scrunched her nose and studied the board.
"Why'd you agree to play then, pixie-face?" he took a long pull of his beer.
"Because I hate Frisbee," Katie replied, ducking as one of the plastic discs went sailing by her head.
Smoke drifted lazily in the humid air accompanied by the heavenly smell of barbeque. Groups of people laughed and chattered around an impromptu volleyball game. For the first time in a great while, voices at Da Nang were light and cheerful.
Face tipped a brief smile at Murdock as he passed, the giggling Private Cross clinging to his shirtless person. The tall pilot tipped back in his chair, his eyes roaming the gathering and settling on Hannibal Smith.
The colonel sat apart from the mingling crowd, smoking pensively. Murdock could see the gears of his mind at work, undoubtedly still chewing the gristle of yesterday's mission. After Colonel Barrett dismissed them last night, Face produced a bottle of bourbon and they'd hashed out the entire day over drinks. It was a regular no-win FUBAR op, and a complete waste of men and resources. The VC brass Hannibal's team had been sent to retrieve were long gone.
"Your move Captain," Katie said, sipping her beer.
"HM," he replied, righting his chair. He surveyed the board, adjusting his cap. He brought out his rook and looked up at her. "You're not on duty." Impulsively, he reached across the table and tugged one of her ponytails.
"Lieutenant Dixon?" a young private appeared and offered the little nurse a snappy salute.
"At ease," she said mildly.
The boy produced an envelope, placed it in her hands, saluted and was gone.
Puzzled, Katie broke the seal and examined the paper within.
Murdock watched her closely as her head dipped lower. The feathery fringe of her lashes shaded her blue eyes, but the soft patter of tears on paper was unmistakable. His hand snaked across the table towards her, carelessly scattering chess pieces. For the briefest moment her hand moved to take his, but instead she bolted, leaving the letter in her wake.
Murdock fetched the paper, a list of names. He scanned the document, stopped abruptly and read aloud–
"Staff Sergeant William Dixon, 25th Infantry, MIA July 3."
He pinched the bridge of his nose. Katie Dixon was very sparing with personal details, but she mentioned her brother Will once or twice in passing. Those brief anecdotes were rich with kid-sister adoration.
Murdock tucked the paper into his pocket and closed his eyes. There, in the dark of his mind, deadly blooms of fire took root in the jungle near Cambodia.
xxx
Da Nang, July 4, 1969, 16:00 hours
"Now, you see?" Face said, pointing at Hannibal. "He's got that look in his eye." The young lieutenant ran a hand through his short blond hair.
"Hannibal, there ain't no way that kid is still in the jungle," BA said. "We was there, they naped it to hell."
Hannibal chewed his cigar thoughtfully. They sat clustered in Murdock's hooch, passing another of Face's craftily obtained bottles of bourbon.
"Exactly," Face agreed, taking a pull from the bottle. "If he didn't evac with us, he's a crispy critter."
Murdock frowned. "He was a squad leader. Charlie'd want to interrogate him at least, if he wasn't zapped from the get-go. They could have hightailed it before the fast movers arrived."
"Shut up fool," BA growled. "That place is probably still crawling with VC. Maybe Colonel Barrett-"
"Maybe Colonel Barrett nothing," Hannibal said, exhaling a stream of smoke. "He gave us four days of R&R." He stood and capped the bottle of bourbon. "I say that stands for 'Recon and Rescue'. Let's go see if we can't find Staff Sergeant Will Dixon and bring him home with his shield, or on it."
XXX
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