For breakfast we had eggs, coffee, buns, bacon, and grits. Peewee complained that he missed the roast beef.
“You getting that for lunch,” the cook said.
“If you serve any more of that damn roast beef you better bring a rifle with it because I’m going to put a hole in your ass for every slice of beef I see.” Brunner said it like he meant it, too.
The cook, a short blond guy with a tattoo on his right arm that said “Mother” and one on his left arm that said “Linda,” spit in a cup and slid it down to Brunner. “There’s your lunch, skinhead.”
Captain Stewart, our company commander, came over and asked what was wrong, and Brunner told him what had happened.
“We can only fix what they send us, Captain,” the cook said.
“I’m sure the corporal realizes that, soldier,” the captain said. “But men who go out and risk their lives every’ day would like a little more respect.”
“I didn’t ask to be no damn cook!”
“Watch your mouth, soldier,” the captain’s voice assumed captain’s status.
Two jets swept by and started hitting a target less than five miles away. They must have made a half-dozen passes before they were joined by two more. We went outside and watched them, our food still in our hands.
“They must have got a convoy,” Brunner said. He said it to Captain Stewart, and he had his sucking-up voice on. Behind him, the cook was spitting in Brunner’s coffee and stirring it up. Lobel smiled when he saw it, and turned away.
“The VC are trying to get in position for the truce,” Captain Stewart said. “They’ll try to get into as good a position as they can and then negotiate to hold those positions.”
“If the war is going to be over, they can have the whole damn country,” Peewee said. “I don’t want the sucker.”
“That’s not why guys are out there humping, soldier.” The captain pulled out a pad and pen. “What’s your name?”
“Gates, sir,” Peewee said. “That’s G-A-T — ”
“I can spell, Private. Are you a cook, too?”
Just then a guy came from HQ tent and called Stewart. Two more minutes, and everybody was running around except Lieutenant Carroll.
“I think they want all the officers in the HQ tent,” I said.
“They want me, they know where to reach me,” Carroll said. “Or they can just leave a message with my secretary.”
There was a sadness about Lieutenant Carroll, something that you didn’t notice at first, but it was there just the same. Even when he made jokes it was there. I watched him walk toward his hooch.
The choppers. They made a noise like the heartbeat of a machine gun as they came in. My stomach knotted for a second, and I told myself to relax. I had a feeling, a sense that something important was going to happen.
“Alpha Company, let’s go!” Sergeant Simpson started yelling.
Alpha Company started lining up. Sergeant Simpson started checking out our squad, making sure we had the right gear.
“What’s up?” Lieutenant Carroll had to raise his voice to get over the noise of the choppers.
“Charlie Company is pinned down over there,” Simpson said. “They were going to send some marines in to get them out but they sent the marines up to Khe Sanh. They expect some heavy stuff up there. They got reports ofbattalion-size movements.”
“A battalion of VC?” Carroll looked at Simpson.
“That’s what they said,” Simpson said.
Lieutenant Carroll went off toward HQ tent.
“Okay, you guys, this is what’s happening. The air force is gonna try to clear the LZ and then we’ll secure it. Third platoon’s responsibility is just to protect the left flank of the LZ. We move in and push out one hundred meters. First platoon will clear the area of hostiles along with second platoon. Fourth platoon gets the right flank. We shouldn’t have any problems unless the VC want to stand and fight a whole damn company.”
“You hear anybody going out last night?” Peewee asked me.
“Unh-uh.”
“Then Charlie Company must have been out there all night,” he said.
I hadn’t heard of any company going out at night before.
Lieutenant Carroll came running back with another lieutenant. He spoke a few words to Sergeant Simpson and Simpson nodded.
“Okay, you guys, make sure your pieces are on safety. Do that right now!”
I ran my finger over the safety catch of my M-16. It was on.
“I don’t want no rounds in the chamber until after we hit the area,” Simpson said. “We hit the ground, me and Lieutenant Carroll will mark off the squad assignments. And don’t go shooting at nothing until you see something to shoot at! Let’s go!”
My legs felt heavy as I ran toward the chopper. Lieutenant Carroll was at the door, checking us in. I banged the shit out of my knee getting in. My bad knee, too.
I looked at Peewee. There was a smear of blood across his face. Simpson noticed it, too.
“What the hell happened to you?”
“This dumb fucker hit me with his rifle,” Peewee jerked a thumb at Brunner. “Simple-ass farm boy!”
“Shut your mouth!” Brunner came back.
I had to grab Monaco to keep from falling toward the door as the chopper jerked into the air.
“When we hit the zone, keep your distances! Don’t bunch up!” Lieutenant Carroll called out. “We shouldn’t get any resistance, especially at first. When we dig in, make sure you’re dug in behind something solid.”
“How about my daddy’s pickup truck?” Walowick asked. “I wouldn’t mind going home and getting behind that baby.”
I couldn’t see a thing outside the chopper. The door gunner was reading a comic book. He looked cool. I thought of saying a prayer, but I couldn’t think of one. I didn’t know one prayer. Under my breath I apologized to God.
“Yo, Peewee!”
“What?”
“We get back to the base, remind me to memorize a prayer.”
“I know one,” Peewee said.
“What is it?”
“Flying into combat, bout to have a fit, Lord, if you listenin’, Please get me out this shit!”
“Just say a Hail Mary!” Monaco yelled.
From where we were at the base the action looked like it was just a few miles away. We were in the choppers nearly ten minutes and still going.
I didn’t know we were even getting near until the door gunner put his hand on his headset, as if he were listening to something, then moved to his gun, pointed it down at the lush green jungle below us, and started firing. The .50 caliber started spitting, and the shells came out at an enormous rate. They were flying back into the chopper and banging around. I dropped my rifle. Monaco pushed it back toward me with his foot.
We didn’t just come down, we damn near fell down. I was grabbing for the sides and shaking. I thought the chopper had been hit.
“Get ready!” Sergeant Simpson called out. “Monaco, you go first. Don’t none of y’all shoot Monaco!”
Monaco had his eyes closed, praying.
“Now!” the machine gunner yelled over his shoulder.
Monaco went out in a flash, and Lieutenant Carroll was right behind him. Johnson jumped out next and fell. I was next in the door, looked down, and saw that we were still about ten feet off the ground.
“Jump, shithead!”
I jumped and landed across Johnson’s legs. I got up first and started to help him up just as two more bodies landed on top of us. We started crawling away from under the chopper.