Corporal Smith said, “May not be nothing come along all day.”
“We’ll give it an hour or so before we head into the hills on foot.” Tyreen turned back to the Corporal; Smith’s eyes flickered when they touched Tyreen’s. Tyreen said, “I want to know exactly what happened up there last night, Corporal. From the top.”
“Ain’t a hell of a lot to tell, Colonel. I ain’t too sure what did happen. We were set to divvy up in two parties, with eight of us climbing up above to make a lot of ruckus and distract the bridge guards while Captain Kreizler and three others slipped under the bridge pylon and set the charges. But we never got near that far. We were still four miles down the road. Four dozen trails through them mountains, and the Vietminh just had to pick that one to lay out an ambush. We walked right into it. They had us in a buzz saw — machine guns on both sides of the road, and one up ahead. Soon as we walked in, they closed up the rear with another machine gun squad.”
Saville said, “How many Reds, Corporal?”
“How do I know? It was getting dark, and they was hid back in the trees. Maybe a platoon. They had at least four seven-six-two machine guns, and they were layin’ into us with a mortar, too. They let us walk all the way in, and then they opened up with everything they had. It was point-blank. We all flattened out on the trail and tried to roll into cover, but they had most of us chewed to pieces before anybody got off the road.”
Tyreen said, “Did you see what happened to Captain Kreizler?”
“I didn’t have a whole lot of time to pay attention. I was seventh man back in the column. I saw Lieutenant Chinh get hit. In the left arm, I think. He was shoving the Captain down out of the line of fire. Rammed right into the Captain with his shoulder to knock the Captain down. Good thing he did, too. Those machine guns were cutting a field of fire about three feet off the ground. Just right to cut you in half, if you’re standing up. I hit the dirt when the first one opened up. Saw Lieutenant Chinh knock the Captain down, and then I was pretty busy finding cover. I don’t know how the hell they missed killing me, and that’s a fact. They started lobbing mortar into the road, and that chewed us up pretty bad.”
Corporal Smith’s voice was a lifeless drone. He added, “I rolled into the trees and tried to find something to shoot at. By the time I cleared my weapon, the shooting had stopped and I couldn’t see anybody, except some of the boys out in the road. I counted eight dead. I couldn’t find the Captain or Lieutenant Chinh, so I figured they must have got to cover the same way I did. There was a couple big holes where the mortar had hit us. I backed away through the brush and hid myself out good in a patch of trees. After a while I heard some talking and laughing and a bunch of troops came by. I kept quiet. Tried to get a look, but it was dark by then. They seemed to be prodding a couple prisoners along, and the only ones from our team that wasn’t dead on the road had to be the Captain and Lieutenant Chinh. I didn’t see their faces, though, so I wasn’t sure. It took me a while to get out of the area. Then I taped the radio call to you and sent it out by balloon so they wouldn’t be able to get a fix on me.”
“When did you find out that Captain Kreizler and the exec had been taken prisoner?” Tyreen said.
“I found that out for sure when I got back to camp. Some of the Montagnards had been down in Chutrang peddling opium when the troops came in. The Yards saw them bring Captain Kreizler and Lieutenant Chinh into the militia compound. Lieutenant Chinh was wounded. The Yards told me Captain Kreizler looked like they’d pushed him around a little, but he wasn’t bleeding or anything. We’ve had people keeping watch ever since. Last I heard, they hadn’t moved either one of them out of the compound. There’s kind of a grubby little jail where they keep prisoners locked up. No windows, just a steel door with a little hole in it, like a slot — they shove bowls of food in through that. It’s right beside the troop barracks. They keep a pretty heavy guard on it around the clock, especially when they’ve got prisoners they figure are worth the trouble.”
Tyreen said, “That’s a battalion headquarters at Chutrang. If they think Kreizler’s important enough, they’ll want to have him removed to higher headquarters tor interrogation.”
Saville said, “Or they’ll send their best torture experts down to question him at Chutrang.”
“We’ll have to find out,” Tyreen said. “But first we’ve got to get there.”
Saville stood up and walked around examining each man’s pack adjustments. Tyreen got up slowly and walked away, and Saville said, “Okay, let’s move out.”
They went single file through the brush, spread in a ragged line. The rain held off, but it was clear that a squall had the mountains roughed up; if McKuen was up there, he would not find the weather any help. The peaks reared up out of sight into the clouds, and it was impossible to miss the shadow-streaks of heavily falling rain over the slopes.
Tyreen moved like a mechanism, bruised in his joints and irritably weak. The exertion of walking less than a mile over flat terrain left him short of breath and profusely sweating. They broke out of the high elephant grass onto the dirt-tan stripe of the road, and Tyreen said, “Sergeant Khang.”
The team milled around, spaced between mudholes in the road. Sergeant Nguyen Khang came up and stared at Tyreen with his slightly bemused expression. J. D. Hooker said, “I can string a wire across the road and plant a Claymore mine, Colonel. Anything comes along, we’ll blow it to pieces.”
“That won’t do us a hell of a lot of good, Sergeant. If we can stop a truck, we’ll want it in one piece. Sergeant Khang, if a truck comes along, you’ll walk out on the road and flag them down. Tell them you’re a noncom from the Third Volunteer Regiment — the one that infiltrated south about a week ago. Tell them you got sick, and the regiment left you behind. Get them talking — try to get everybody out of the truck and arguing it over.”
Khang’s smile was lopsided. “What happens if they decide to shoot first and argue afterwards?”
“Why should they?” Tyreen said.
“Colonel, you don’t know this country too well after all, do you?”
“You just act like a North Vietnamese sergeant who’s lost his outfit. You’ll get along fine. Get rid of your equipment and peel down to your undershirt.”
Khang said, “Okay, Colonel. I’ll do my best to save the Goddamn world for democracy.”
He turned away, and Tyreen watched him lug his gear into the bush. Tyreen felt faint, not altogether present. He wheeled on Saville: “Set up the machine gun to command the road, and post the men.”
Saville turned to J. D. Hooker: “Deploy the men, and get that machine gun set up.”
Tyreen barked at him: “If I’d wanted the sergeant to execute that order, I’d have issued it to him, Captain!”
Saville’s mild glance swiveled around and rested against him. Saville didn’t say anything. He walked over and picked up the machine gun as if it were a light carbine and carried it back into the grass. Tyreen slung his submachine gun over one shoulder and walked angrily off the road. Hooker and Sergeant Sun watched him speculatively. Corporal Smith stood back with his hands locked around his gun, and Saville, coming by, spoke to him: “Post yourself across the road, Corporal, and don’t do any shooting until the Colonel calls for it.”
Out over the sea, the rim of the sun was a red hump on the horizon.
Chapter Thirteen
0635 Hours
“Begorra,” said George McKuen. Engulfed in cloud, the gooney bird plowed forward. McKuen peered downward with his face touching the glass.
“The needle says six thousand feet, Lieutenant. I can’t see a damned thing. Suppose the mountains—”