Brad inflated the raft and Harry lunged over the side, landing on his back. With a surge of adrenaline, Brad grabbed the raft and began sidestroking as hard as he could. Having been a competitive swimmer at the Naval Academy, Brad had conditioned himself to swim long distances.
More shots ripped across the water, narrowly missing the bright yellow raft. Brad swam as hard as he could, straining to distance them from the beach.
"I see the sonuvabitches," Harry groaned in agony. "They're about a hundred yards to the right of the crash."
"Harry," Brad choked from a mouthful of seawater, "can you get some rounds off — keep their heads down?"
"I'll try."
Hutton released his arm, painfully extracted his revolver, then fired six rounds at the three men setting up a mortar. One of the soldiers was firing his rifle at the raft while the other two men were bracing the muzzle-loading mortar. Although he didn't have a prayer of hitting the North Vietnamese, Harry convinced them to drop to a prone position.
"Get on the radio," Brad paused, swallowing more of the salty water, "and see if you can get Jocko, or someone. We need help right now if — "
A geyser of water erupted thirty feet in front of the raft, showering them with spray. Brad altered course and stroked with all of his strength. The mortar crew would soon have them bracketed.
Hutton fumbled with his survival radio while another shell exploded next to them. "Joker," Harry shouted in desperation, "we need cover fire! There's a mortar firing at us north of the crash!"
"Copy," Carella replied. "Say mortar posit."
A third shell hit closer, stunning both of them. "North — a hundred yards north of the wreckage!"
"We're rolling in."
Gulping air, Brad changed direction again and kicked with the last ounce of energy in his body. He flinched when a fourth shell impacted in the position they had occupied only seconds before.
The Phantom plunged toward the mortar crew and fired an unguided Sparrow missile. It wiggled twice before exploding between the burning wreckage and the North Vietnamese soldiers.
Carella pulled up steeply and banked over the downed fliers. "I'm going to try again. Hang in."
Breathing a sigh of relief, Hutton watched the mortar team grab their weapon and scamper toward the marsh behind the burning Phantom. "They've retreated," Harry yelled, ignoring his pain. "They disappeared behind the crash site!"
"Joker copies. We've got help on the way."
Brad stopped swimming and held onto the side of the raft. His lungs heaved in an attempt to resupply oxygen to his exhausted body.
Hearing the Phanton overhead, Brad glanced up at the aircraft. His mind had trouble comprehending that he had been up there only minutes before. Now, he was in the sea, struggling to survive.
"Harry, Joker," Carella radioed. "We've got to tank, then we'll be back."
Hutton shaded his eyes and looked up at the Phantom. He, too, felt strange sitting in a raft while he talked to Carella and Sheridan in their jet. "How long til the helo gets here?"
"The SAR folks," Carella paused to confirm a radio call that Sheridan had made, "are on the way. The Vigilante crew is in the drink, too, so ten to fifteen minutes."
Chapter 42
Brad heard Carella light the afterburners as they sped toward a rendezvous with the waiting tanker. "Harry," Brad said, handing Hutton his revolver, "reload yours and keep mine handy."
Repositioning his left arm, Harry turned to Brad. "I hope to Christ they get here before the mortar crew comes back."
"I'm going to tow us out as far as I can." Without warning, something bumped Brad's legs. "Holy shit," Brad uttered in panic.
"What?" Harry responded, frantically searching the shoreline. "What's wrong?"
"Something ran into my leg." Brad brought his legs up under the raft. "Something big." He inflated his life jacket to provide a cushion for his upper torso.
"I'll dump in the shark repellent," Harry offered, searching behind him for the packet. "If we're careful, you can crawl in on my legs."
Brad was tempted to get out of the water but thought about their close proximity to the shoreline. Harry dropped the shark repellent in the water.
"Thanks, but I better tow us out as far as I can. We're sitting ducks if the mortar team comes back."
Brad glanced out to sea. He did a double take when he saw the bridge and mast of a large ship. The vessel was approaching them at high speed.
"Harry, we've got company coming."
"Where?" Hutton responded, yanking his head around to see where Austin was looking. "I hope it's one of ours."
"If it isn't," Brad peered back toward the beach, "we can kiss it good-bye."
Harry grimaced, then turned his head to meet Brad's eyes. "I wish I could help you."
"You are helping. As soon as you hear the helos, toss out the dye marker and light a smoke flare."
"I've got 'em ready."
Hutton gingerly propped himself up. "Where are those goddamn helicopters?"
"I don't know, but things don't — sonuvabitch!"
"What?" Harry asked, wide-eyed with fear.
"Something just bounced off my right leg." Brad thrashed the water, towing the raft as fast as he could swim. His heart beat so hard he could feel constriction in his chest. Christ, am I going to have a heart attack?
After seventy yards, Brad slowed to a steady pace. "Harry," he gasped, "if you see anything break the surface — dorsal fin, anything — call it out but don't shoot it, and get ready for company in the raft."
"Okay," Harry replied, then froze in horror. "Shit! We've got big trouble."
Brad slowed and stared at two North Vietnamese patrol boats. They were accelerating from their concealment behind a fleet of fishing boats. At full speed, the Swatow-class gunboats were turning directly toward Brad and Harry.
Austin searched the skies, hearing the familiar sound of the big radial engines in the A-1 Skyraiders. "Call RESCAP and light the flare!"
He felt something strike his left leg. Brad churned the water while he quickly positioned himself at the rear of their raft. "I'm getting in!"
Harry grasped the air chamber and leaned back to balance the unstable dinghy. He braced his flight boots inside the aft section, locking his knees. Brad thrust his body upward, pulling himself into the raft. His helmet hit Hutton in the chest.
Aware of a deep, resonant sound in the distance, Austin and Hutton were startled by a thundering impact near them. A coastal battery had opened fire at their bobbing raft.
Brad heard another loud report. He looked over the front of the raft to see the ship that had been speeding toward them. He judged it to be two miles from the shore.
"Harry, a destroyer… thank God." Turning quickly to see the ship, Hutton almost tipped over the dinghy.
The American destroyer captain, risking his vessel in the shallow waters, was turning broadside to the beach and had commenced firing at the shore battery.
Brad clutched Harry's good arm and shifted to see the North Vietnamese patrol boats. The two craft were side by side, less than a mile away.
Brad and Harry both heard a whistling sound a second before another large shell exploded beside them. The concussion from the impact lifted the raft out of the water and tossed both men into the sea.
Stunned by the blast, Austin popped to the surface and grabbed Hutton in a lifeguard grip. "We've got to get away from the raft," Brad sputtered.
Coughing up brine, Harry moaned in agony. "We're not going to make it, are we?"
"Yes, goddamnit," Brad bellowed in pain and frustration, "we're going to make it."
Austin was fighting not to succumb to his overwhelming fear. Choking, he towed Harry twenty yards from the clearly visible dinghy. He looked around, desperate for assistance. He glimpsed a swarm of RESCAP Skyraiders in the distance, then heard the clattering of a Seasprite helicopter. He saw a second helicopter in the distance.