A Ranma 1/2 Fanfic Teaser
General Warning : The characters and ideas drawn from the series RANMA
1/2 is controlled exclusively by Rumiko Takahashi, Viz Video, and Kitty
Enterprises. This work was produced without their knowledge or consent.
This work contains �violence� and adult language
Written By : Jack
C&C is welcome
Opening Music : Going History [Slayers Sound Bible]
The Mekong Delta was a wet place. Wet and Muddy, every inch of earth
that wasn�t part of the vast system of canals and streams seemed to be
soaked in an inch of water. Rice farmers built elaborate systems of dams
and levees to reclaim the land and create large fertile rice paddies in
the silt lined soil. All manner of wild grasses, flowers, water lilies,
fish, and shell fish inhabited the flood plain. The major spillways all
connected together to form a vital network of waterways that provided
transportation from the major southern port of Vun Tau all the way down
through the Southern portions of the country and up into the provinces
surrounding Saigon. Along the way, smaller provincial docks provided the
farmers with a means to transport their various crops and goods to
market and a birthing place for the fisherman�s boats.
The extensive rice fields, the bountiful waters, and transportation
system made the Mekong Delta the bread basket of Vietnam. Over 1/3rd of
the countries food came from the region, it was one of the countries�
greatest assets and its greatest weakness.
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�Delta Four Niner, this is Hotel Quebec, authenticate : Zulu Indigo
Fife. Over.�
[The camera opens to a picture of a river at night. A full moon is
casting light down on the water, creating a fantastic ripple of light
across the river�s surface. A fisherman slowly paddles his skiff down
stream, trawling a net behind him.]
�Hotel Quebec this is Delta Four Niner. We authenticate Mike Charlie
Zero Zero. I say again, we authenticate Mike Charlie Zero Zero.
Authenticate Papa Four Over.�
[The camera angle changes to show a pair of storks slowly picking their
way through a small side pool of muddy water. They periodically halt
their movement and turn their heads to stare at the water�s surface,
looking for fish. One of them snaps its head towards the water and pulls
back with a wiggling fish in its beak.]
�Delta Four Niner, this is Hotel Quebec, we authenticate Seven-Tri. To
all stations, this is the net controller, the net is open. Abbreviated
call-signs are in effect. Over.�
[A picture of a small dock. Several small river boats are moored to the
pier.]
�Four-Niner, this is Command, we have incoming message traffic for your
station commander. over.�
�Command, this is Four-Niner, we are ready to receive. Over.�
[As the full moon slowly rises to its apex in the clear sky, several
small canoes are pushed into the calm river water. There are several
tightly wrapped bundles in each canoe. Two people step into the first
canoe and place mats made of woven banana leaves over the bundles.]
�Four-Niner, you have received new orders from command. This is your
warno, I say again this is your warno. You are to preform a recon of
nearby sector located in grid zone designator Alpha-Golf Niner Four Tri
Six Six Four Two. Recon unit will NOT engage any hostiles encountered
during mission. I say again, recon unit will NOT engage any hostiles
encountered. This is an intel gathering mission only Mission will
commence at 2200 hours and is set to end by 0600 on 28/12/67. Do you
copy ?�
�Four Niner copies.�
�Four Niner, stand by for further information. Over.�
�This is Four-Niner. Wilco�
|---|
The first canoe pushed off the bank and slowly drifted into the middle
of the river. Several people got into each of the canoes that were still
resting on the bank. Each craft had several similarly wrapped bundles
laying at the bottom of the boats. After the lead canoe has pushed off
the bank and made its way into the main current of the river, each canoe
slowly pushed off the bank and followed it until they were all heading
down the river, spaced out from the lead canoe and each other at 400
meter intervals.
[In the lead vessel] Mai Ly stood at the canoe�s bow, slowly guiding
the small boat down the river. She scanned the horizon, looking for any
other boats on the river. Thankfully, they seemed to be the only people
on the river. At the back of the small boat, Anh Dinh was nervously
fidgeting with one of the bundles.
�Psst... Anh, stop that. You�re making a lot of noise back there.
The young man, barely out of puberty looked up from a bundle with huge
sacred eyes. �...ssoorrrryyy Miss Ly... I was just checking the...�
�Yes, yes I know... don�t worry about it. I made sure everything was in
order before we left..�
�But, but, but, what iiff sssomething iss�nt�
The woman gave a small sigh. *Anh is sweet, but he doesn�t have any
confidence in himself.* �Anh, please don�t worry... something must be
bothering you... what is it ?�
The young man fidgeted some more. He stole a quick glance at the young
lady aat the front of the boat. Anh was glad he had volunteered to be in
the lead boat. He couldn�t imagine talking about his feelings with any
of the grizzled men that were in the other boats following them.
�I�m.... I�m scared Mai Ly.... really scared.... some of my family is
in Sa---- I mean the objective and... well... I.. I was just worried
about them... and about what we�re gonna.. �
Mai turned around and looked at the frightened youth at the back. She
slowly placed her guide pole down and moved to the back of the boat.
�Anh... is perfectly natural to be frightened. A big thing is about to
happen, the unfolding of a marvelous plan. We are important parts of
that plan, with a huge responsibility, I understand your fear.... Where
do your relatives live ?�
Anh nervously untwined his fingers into various intricate designs
before answering. �They live just outside the city proper... in Cho
Lon.�
�I�m sure they�ll be safe. Do they support our cause ?�
�Yes�
�Then there is nothing to worry about. Who knows ? they may be
instrumental in helping us when the time comes.�
�Well... what about the Ameri....�
�Nonsense,� said Mai, cutting him off in mid-sentence. �We�ll make it
Anh.� Mai wrapped one of her arms around the young man�s shoulders. �As
soon as we pass the canal that will lead us through the delta I�ll sing
a song, OK ?�
Anh�s spirits visibly improved. Mai had the most beautiful voice he had
ever heard. During last year�s lunar celebrations she had been given an
award for her wondrous singing. The judges had said her voice was enough
to call the goddesses down from the seven heavens. Binh, one of the old
veterans he hated, had joked that she had better stay away from
graveyards, lest she raise the dead. Anh had shaken in anger as the man
and his cronies laughed at the joke.
�Can I request I song ?�
�Sure Anh, what would you like to hear ?�
�Something uplifting please.�
�Sure, just as soon as we pass into open waters, ok ?�
�Ok Mai.�
|---|
As the flotilla of boats slowly made its way down the river system,
another group of people were following the same stream bed.
The commanding officer of B company had sent out his alpha platoon to
carry out the mission orders that he had received. It was a simple
mission, if a little out of the ordinary considering the times. With the
two respective governments trying to hammer out a peace treaty in Paris,
a cease fire in effect all across the DMZ and surrounding
countryside,.... seemed foolish for command to stick their necks out by
ordering a recon of the delta system. Still, orders were orders and he
had sent Sargent First Class Kearns with a reinforced platoon to preform
the mission.
Kearns had been with the company since the early opening years of the
1960�s and was familiar with the area. Besides, the officer had
reasoned, he had to be ready to hop on the freedom bird that would be
carrying him back to the rest of the world in a week while Kearns had
just signed on for another tour. No need to take on additional risk if
the platoon sergeant was willing to do it.
First platoon had been reinforced to 40 men before leaving the firebase
that was their station for their portion of the Sector 4 operations
zone. Sgt Kearns had insisted on humping out with an additional M60 and
FAC team before leaving the base behind and heading out into the field.
Most men carried a small ruck with had their poncho liners and other wet
weather gear. Some had the misfortune of carrying a URC-10 squad radio,
the PRC (prick) - 77 was a joy reserved for the RTO, who got to lug
around an extra 30 pounds plus spare batteries. Other than that each man
had his LBE/V which was tripped out with extra ammo pouches, maps,
flashlights, 2 days worth of rations, and a staggering 8 quarts of
water. Anyone also carried 2 belts of linked ammunition for the
platoon�s two machine guns in their packs or slung around their
shoulders.
The men were formed into two squads, one on each side of the river they
were following. Second and third squad covered the east side of the
river while 1st squad and the heavy weapons squad took the west side.
Each man covered down on the one front of him, but kept a slight stagger
between him and the man in front. Care was also taken so that each
person wasn�t parallel with a troop on the other side of the river. This
tactic was to avoid enemy machine gunners being able to hit multiple
targets with one burst, sadly it was a lesson reinforced with plenty of
experience.
SFC Kearns walked with 1st and 4th squads on the west side of the bank.
He had a young NCO named Cruger with the men on the east side. Even in
the early hours of the evening, the jungle was still incredibly humid.
Sweat dripped from every man�s body as they made their way towards the
predesignated point where they would set up their listening post.
Sweat that mixed dirt and sap from the plants that touched or rubbed up
against to form a gritty film that stuck to their skin and made them
feel miserable. Orders had been given not to smoke, and strict noise and
light discipline was in effect to conceal their movement. They had made
fairly good time. The objective was less than 16 kilometers away. A 3
hour march if they good keep up their current pace.
Sgt. Kearns looked over his command as they marched south. B company
had seen a lot of action in recent months. They had been forced to be
almost completely refitted several times with fresh replacements, due to
crippling loses in the central highlands. They had been transferred to
lower-key sector duty in the Mekong Delta as a respite from the bloody
fighting they had been engaged in near Phu Bai. Sadly, the Mekong Delta
was proving to be just as hostile as the mountains around Hue.
The platoon was starting to move out of the thick jungle that had
surrounded their WFB. The land was turning into a series of interlinked
crop fields. Dikes had been erected to divert some of the water flow to
the paddies that hugged the river bank. Tall water reeds lined the soft
earthen banks of the river, some lotus plants floated on pools of still
water that were created by the twisting path of the banks. Kearns halted
the platoon briefly to shoot an azimuth and check the pace count before
continuing towards the objective.
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The small boat had found the main tributary that led North towards Gia
Dinh. From this river, the small convoy would be able to reach their
rally point in a few days. Mai glanced back at Anh, who had fallen
silent at the back of the boat. He was curled against the back and was
using his left arm to operate the rudder. Mai turned around and smiled
slightly when he couldn�t see her. When they had completed their
assignment, she would cure him of his shyness.
But now was time for that song she had promised. Lifting her head
slightly to catch the breeze, Mai starting began softly humming a soft,
enchanting tune. She was singing to calm Anh, but also to make sure the
boats behind them were able to keep up once complete darkness had
fallen.
�Mua thu roi hgay hai moui ba ...�
[The twenty-thrid of an August...]
Anh sat up from his niche in the back of the boat and leaned forward
intently to listened to her song. When he recognized the tune, he
grinned broadly and sat up ramrod straight, puffing out his chest and
started silently mouthing the words with her.
�ta ra di theo tieng kiu son ha nguy bien...�
[we responded to the call of our nation...]
Mai turned to look at Anh, who was now standing in the back of the
boat, watching her fascination. Mai smiled and turned around to watch
the river. She continued to sing in her melodious silver bell voice.
�Ren kahp troi, toi hoan ho, dan quan ta nhip,...�
[From sea to shore, from towns to hamlets, ...]
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*What the hell is that ?* Sgt. Kearns tilted his head. He could�ve
sworn he had heard something different in the sound of the wind. A
strange noise, something out of place with the normal rustle of the
vegetation.
�Sergeant Shaw, did you hear that sound ?� called Kearns to the 4th
squad leader who was off to his right.
�Yes I did sergeant, it sounds like someone singing.�
�Jesus, can you tell where its coming from ?�
�Definitely coming from the direction of travel. Its just some farmer�s
daughter singing to herself.�
�Maybe, I still can�t make it out.�
�Ok, I�ll call a hold session when we get to that ridge up ahead,�
Kearns pointed to a spot in the distance where the ground rose up
slightly just before a bend in the river. �See it ? Right over there by
the fork., about 200 meters.�
�I see it Sgt., how long you wanna wait ?�
�Until I know what the hell is coming down this river.� Kearns focused
on the horizon for a moment, �okay, you be ready to sit with the point
man when I halt us up.�
�Right, you want to set up a little LP before we move on ?�
Kearns turned his head to look at the river fork they were closing on,
after thinking for a moment he nodded slowly. �Yeah, why don�t we do
that. Alright, when we halt up take Mather with you, scout out no more
than half a klick then report back, take a URC with you.�
�Sounds good Sergeant.�
�Start moving up to the front of the formation.�
Sgt. Shaw turned around and signaled to his assistant to take over
control of the squad before shuffling up through the formation towards
the point man who was creeping leading the platoon through the
vegetation.
After walking for another hundred meters or so, SFC. Kearns held up his
right hand and signaled for the formation to stop. Everyone dropped to a
knee after no other commands were given a few seconds later. Kearns
signaled to the men across the river to halt as well before giving the
signal for the men to get into the prone.
Each man lowered his self to the ground and started low crawling until
they had formed an oval shaped 360 perimeter with Kearns in the center.
The tail-end Charlie took his place at the rear of the �circle� with his
weapon facing the rear. Up in front the point man was alternating
between looking back at the squad leaders and keeping an eye on the
ground in front of them. Men on both sides of the river began scanning
the surrounding countryside, each trying to figure out why they had
halted several kilo�s from their objective. Was there a man missing ?
Did someone lose a sensitive piece of equipment ? A booby trap in the
grass ? 40 pairs of eyes searched the terrain for clues, and wherever
their eyes looked, their weapon muzzles followed.
Sergeant Shaw crept up to the point man and laid down next to him.
Specialist Mather was the platoon point man. A young kid out of the
South Bronx, Mather was cool during fire and had an ingrained ability to
spot traps and ambushes. People say he could smell out Charlie when they
were near. Shaw explained their orders quickly and hefted the radio he
had borrowed from a squad leader while working his way up to the point
man�s position. Mather gave the terrain they were to scout a quick once
over and started explaining the approach route they should take,
pointing out good places to hide and make their reports along the route.
A light mist was beginning to settle down on the delta and Mather had to
point out a few of the places twice in order for Shaw to spot them.
After double checking to make sure Shaw understood his plan, Mather
began to slow-walk towards the bank of the river. Sergeant Shaw gave him
a ten meter head start before following behind.
As both men began working their way towards the LP, Sergeant Kearns
began expanding the original perimeter than had been set up when the
platoon had first halted. He linked up both elements so that 1st and 4th
squads covered a 180 degree sector on the east side of the river while
2nd and 3rd squads took the remaining half-circle on the west side. Two
men from each sector were in the river�s waters so that they could have
a long LOS down the channel.
Kearns moved to the center of the circle and crouched down in the tall
grasses so he couldn�t be seen. It wasn�t the most ideal defensive
position, the vegetation offered good camouflage but was lacking in
things that could stop bullets. He took a moment to reposition some men
that were out of place before settling down to focus on the two scouts
that were advancing forward.
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They were approaching the first of several forks in the river that
flowed down from the mountains into the Delta. At this point, they would
steer the craft right and continue going up river until they reached the
dragon�s mouth valley that held the province of My Tho.
There were people in the provincial capital that would be able to give
them the additional information and supplies they would need before they
headed further North. Anh began placed his hand firmly on the steering
oar, ready to move it in the desired way with the boat reached the
turning point. Mai continued to sing in the front of the boat. The song
had a double purpose. It was serving to boost the morale of the troops,
but more importantly, the music would keep the boats from losing one
another in the pitch black darkness that was settling in over the
low-laying valley.
�cham tien den tran lien....�
[Citizens and soldiers thunder with applause, side by side to battle we
gallantly march...]
|---|
*Wait a minute... Thats.. a song. A rally song.* Sgt. Kearns listened
to the faint sounds again. In the jungle, the slightest sound was
carried an ungodly long distance. He had definitely heard the sound of
someone singing in Vietnamese. A female, singing in Vietnamese. Not a
radio, not a AVRN broadcast. Kearns strained to hear any other sounds
coming from the jungle ahead.
*I hate quiet, always so goddamn quiet out here. I wanna be in Saigon,
I wanna be in a city with... music, and people, people that don�t wanna
kill me, I want good food, clean water....* Kearns shook his head in
exasperation. Again, his mind had drifted from the situation in the
field to thoughts of leave and relaxation. The men were slugging through
the mud while he dreamed of R&R. Kearns mentally chastised himself for
becoming unfocused when another irritating situation developed.
His nervous twitch had come back, that irritating tick he had
developed on the left side of his face. It was probably nothing, a
slightly misaligned blood vessel, or perhaps an aggravated nerve
triggering a muscle spasm. He reached up with his left hand and touched
his face. The tick was there, he could feel it, a throb of blood beneath
the skin. Kearns applied some pressure, hoping to cease the spasm, but
it didn�t seem to be helping today. There was nothing wrong with having
a slight twitch though, his hands were still rock steady , he didn�t
break out in cold sweats at night, no nightmares, the only side effect
after 2 years of constant fighting was a minor muscle spasm. He could
live with something like that.
Kearns searched the jungle lining the banks of the shore, Shaw and
Mather had disappeared into the dense vegetation while he was day
dreaming. Kearns swore under his breath, he has been slipping recently.
But it was nothing a little boom-boom in Saigon�s red light district
wouldn�t fix. He spotted the recon team crouching behind a fallen tree
several hundred meters downstream. A dark shape was also coming into
view down the river. The small object was slowly making its way upstream
towards the platoon�s position.
|---|
Specialist Mather and Sgt. Shaw slowly worked their way through the
underbrush that lined the river bank. Both men were on edge, sweat
trickling down their faces in rivers. With each step they took, the soft
muddy ground sucked their boots in several centimeters before they
could pull their feet out of the brown slime. Mather changed directions
frequently to avoid bushes of elephant grass, whose thin leaves could
slice open a soldier�s leg if brushed against.
They were both crouched down, trying to keep as much concealing matter
between them and the river as possible. Up ahead, a small ridge rose up
along a slight turn in the river. The side of it was covered with lemon
grass and assorted mustard greens, their yellow flowers barely visible
in the moonlight. Mather turned around and pointed to the top of the
ridgeline, once again indicating where he wanted to set up the LP. Shaw
nodded slightly as he struggled through the muck to catch up. Mather
dropped to the ground and began low-crawling up the side of the ridge.
Using his elbows to slightly prop up his body and to cradle his rifle so
it didn�t drag in the dirt, Mather began inching up towards the top.
After finally slogging through the worst of the mud, Shaw crouched down
and watched Mather crawling up the side of the hill. The thought of
getting down in the muddy tracks he was laying down in the grass didn�t
appeal to him. With a sigh, he got down in the prone position and began
following Mather�s path up the side of the ridge, taking care to avoid
the larger patches of mud and grime as he proceeded up.
Mather slowly slithered onto the top of the ridge. He rolled slightly
to his left and reached for the bayonet that was hanging from his web
gear. Once he had undone the bit of five-fifty cord he used to hold the
knife in place, he grasped the knife and used it to cut a bundle of
lemon grass that was next to him. He then took off his steel pot and
slipped the grass in between the openings of the nylon webbing that
covered the helmet. More grass was tucked into the band that secured the
webbing in place. When he was satisfied the helmet looked like the top
of a bush, Mather slipped the helmet back on and rose on his hunches to
look down at the river.
He saw the river, twisting its way through the countryside, the various
ferns and reeds dipping into the water. On the river, traveling up
stream, where seven small boats. Five of them, including the lead boat,
were small two person canoe-like craft while the other two resembled a
Chinese junk/rowboat hybrid that might have been able to hold several
people. The singing coming from the lead boat was could be clearly heard
now.
Mather twisted his upper body so he could look at Shaw. The sergeant
was trying to unreel the URC�s short whip antenna and meld into the
grass at the same time. Mather waited until he had the sergeant�s
attention and then relayed the information to him using hand signals.
Seven boats, five small, two medium, unknown number of contacts. Shaw
keyed the mike and began giving the report.
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�...I say again, LP sees seven unidentified craft. Five, two person
boats, accompanied by two medium-sized river craft.� There was a burst
of static as Sgt. Shaw released the mike.
Sergeant Kearns winced as he turned volume knob down. �Serria, Can you
identify the occupants of the craft ? Over.�
There was a slight pause before the reply filtered back. �Negative.�
�Sierra, what is the total length of the convoy ?�
*pzzztttt* �Estimated to be fife zero zero meters at this time, over.�
*pzzzzt*
Kearns mulled this over for a little bit. �Sierra, continue observing,
we will contact you again in ten mikes. Over.� Sgt Kearns called for the
squad leaders to rally in the middle of the circle with him. When they
had crowded around him , he laid out his plan.
�Ok, you cool cats, as you may or may not already know, there�s a small
convoy of boats heading up the river. Now, we don�t know if they�re
enemy or just some people heading to the capital for the new year, but
lets not take any chances.� Heads nodded all around the circle. The
platoon was full of combat veterans, they were used to playing close to
the chest.
�We�re gonna set up a hasty ambush right where the river forks. The
current is stronger there, hopefully they�ll have tio struggle against
it and bunch up together when they try to go through. I want the 60 on
the little island in the center of the fork and everyone else along the
western bank. Rig up your claymores, just in case.�
One of the younger squad leaders raised his hand.
�Yeah, Roberts, whats on your mind ?�
�Umm, how will we know if the people on the boats are Charlie ?�
�The 60�ll be rocking and rolling, thats how. If and when the machine
gun opens up, that�ll be your signal to cut loose. Answer your question
?�
The young corporal nodded sheepishly. Kearns looked around the circle
again, pausing at each face to study it before he moved on. He saw, with
the exception of Roberts, a collection of hardened soldiers staring back
at him, each one had an expressionless face, but their eyes shone with
excitement. Kearns was vaguely aware of an unusual feeling that swept
through him for a moment. Was it a slight chill ? A moment of
apprehension ? Kearns ignored it.
�Alright, one more time, we wait until the lead boat passes through the
kill zone. If the 60 team starts up, you know their VC. Blow the mines,
full auto one mag, and check for effect. IF they are hostile, I want the
people in the first boat kept alive IF possible.�
Kearns looked up from his plan, which he had drawn up in the dirt. Four
pairs of steeled eyes stared back. �Ok, broddas lets do this shit.�
The squad leaders returned to their men. Kearns scurried over to the MG
team that was huddled behind a small ditch on the perimeter. The machine
gun was manned by Pfc. Sanchez, and Cpl. Spears an old, experienced
team. They were cool under fire, and wouldn�t break. Kearns was glad to
have them.
�Hey, whats going on top ?� asked Sanchez has Kearns crouched by their
hole.
�We got some unknowns heading our way, so I�m setting up a little hasty
to greet them. You guys are gonna move over near the fork in the river
so the 60�ll have a better LOS.�
�Jeez, right when I was getting comfortable sergeant.�
�Yeah, yeah get your asses in gear.� Kearns jerked a thumb towards the
place he wanted the team to set up.
Reluctantly, they picked up the machine gun and sneaked over to the
small finger of land that made up the dividing line between the two
streams of water. Sanchez began laying out several belts of ammunition
where they would be kept clean and within easy reach. Spears adjusted
the bipod slightly and did a quick functions check as they bedded down
in their new hiddy hole. The team created the final leg of the L-shaped
ambush line. A nightmare for anyone caught in it.
Sgt. Kearns crouched down beside them. The lead boat was beginning to
cross into the formation�s kill zone.
|---|
�Nuoc voi dao, chan khong guay, ma long ngoui giam long vi nuoc.�
[Water and broad swords, bare-footed, we set out for our country]
Mai guided the raft towards the fork in the river. Nearby, 42 pairs of
eyes watched her boat float past them. Sweating palms clenched weapons,
fingers slipped into trigger guards while safety switches were flipped
off. Someone brushed up against a plant, causing its leaves to rustle.
Mai knelt down and reached for something at the bottom of the boat.
Several men tensed, waiting for her to whirl around with an AK or a hand
grenade, but it was only a water gourd.
One soldier, laying towards the end of the ambush line hugged a det.
clacker close to his chest, waiting for the signal to blow the mines.
All eyes watched the lead boat slowly pass through the kill zone towards
the fork in the river and the 60 team.
�Co tham phat-pho ngang troi, sao vang xao-xinh khap noi bun bien...�
[Dance across the land, red flags with a yellow star, We us children of
Viet-Nam, pledge to our ancestors that,...]
*Good god they�re VC.* Kearns leaned forward and raised his rifle. He
let his left arm drop from his rifle�s mag housing and held it above
Cpl. Spear�s shoulder.
The lead boat passed out of the kill zone, the shadow in the back was
pushing it up the river. The rest of the boats had to struggle against
the stronger current as they neared the fork. They had closed the
distance between each other, now being only 150-200 meters apart. All
but two were in the kill zone.
�mot long nguyen voi to tien.�
[we shall fight as they had fought for freedom]
Mai held the last few words and ended the song with a flourish. She
turned to look at Anh, giving him a sweet smile. He had a huge smile on
his face, the young man�s eyes were shining in the moonlight, filled
with excitement and wonder.
Some of the men in the following boats also exchanged small smiles,
they were at the first waypoint, everything was going according to
plan. Someone took out a flask of rice wine and passed it around.
A young private swore to himself. Just a few more days, a few more days
and he would be back home, back home with his fiancee, home cooking, and
warm beds.
Mai turned around to watch a group of birds take suddenly take to the
air from the small island the fork in the river created. A worried frown
appeared on her face.
Sgt. Kearns mouthed the last words of the song to himself. He turned
his head to check on the lead boat, it was well past the fork. Kearns
flipped his rifle upside down and pointed it towards the oncoming line
of boats, with his free hand, he tapped Spears on the shoulder. Cpl.
Spears quickly glanced up at Kearns. Seeing the signal Kearns has
giving, he turned back, quickly crossed himself while bracing the weapon
against his shoulder and squeezed the trigger.
Bullets roared out of the machine gun, the tracer rounds leaving a
smoking path as they flew downrange and embedded themselves in the sides
of the boats. Spent casings poured out of the gun along with discarded
links. Spears kept firing controlled bursts, working his fire along each
of the boats when they came into view.
Hearing the 60 open up, the rest of the platoon raised their weapons
and opened fire, adding the lighter rattle of their M16�s to the load
roar of the machine gun. Bullets tore into the wood/reed boats, ripping
apart the paddles, frame, and men that were inside them. Bullet casings
glinted in the moonlight before splashing into the river or landed in
the grass where they smothered.
The men in the boats didn�t have a chance. Several tried jumping into
the river or ducking down into the bottoms of their vessels. Frags
followed those who tried to jump into the water, the grenaderies began
using their M-79 �thumpers� to blow apart the flimsy boats with
40mikemike grenades. Flesh and wood were blasted apart, the muddy waters
gained an orange tint.
The ten men under Cpl. Cruger vaulted out of the reeds to assault the
lead boat. Mai snapped her head around just in time to see two men
crashing through the water at her before a rifle butt smashed into her
temple.
Bolts locked once mags were emptied of bullets. Men hit released
buttons on fumbled with their ammo pouches for fresh magazines. The
machine gun stopped rattling while Sanchez fed in another belt.
Two VC soldiers from one of the rear boats had managed to grab their
AK�s from the bottom of their boat and half-valuted, half-stumbled out
into the churning water. They charged the ambush line, firing wildly as
they charged towards the embankment. One was almost sliced in half by a
burst of machine gun fire, the other made it to the bank and pounded up
the small berm.
As the rebel crested the small molehill, Pfc. Davis looked up from his
fighting hole to see the soldier looming over him. He snapped up his
rifle just as the man was reaching into his pajama pocket. Davis pulled
the trigger, five, incredibly fast counter-clockwise rotating bullets
popped out and ripped through the man�s upper chest and neck. Fine jets
of arterial blood flowed misted out, like ocean spray. The arm came out
of the pocket as the man fell into Davis�s hole in a boneless heap.
It had been a picture perfect ambush. The attacking unit had secured an
area of terrain that provided them with the best possible amount of
cover and concealment while denying it to their victims. The enemy had
to pass through an open, high-speed avenue of approach that has
distanced from any defensive terrain that could use, the initial attack
at been initiated with complete surprise, accuracy, and skill. Ninety
percent of the enemy force had been neutralized in the first 10 seconds.
Seeing this, the platoon eased its fire. The 60 team stopped raking the
area with bullets and started looking for individual targets. Davis
pushed the dead soldier out of his hole. A potato masher (a type of
grenade) from the man�s hand rolled into it.
The men around him swore, then fanatically scrabbled to safety.
*Oh shit.....* one-one thousand, *Ahhhh grenadegrenadegrenade*, two-one
thousand, Davis stared at the object in terror. His mind locked up, he
couldn�t think of anything, all his training deserted him,
three-thousand *Get it out of here* He desperately kicked at the
grenade, it moved several inches and sank into the mud
*fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckI�mfucked* Davis reached over and grabbed the
handle with his left hand. four-one thousand. The grenade exploded.
The small chunk of explosive quickly changed forms, switching from a
reasonably stable solid into a mass of rapidly expanding hot gas. The
force of it pushed Davis�s fingers out of its way, then his hand, most
of his lower arm, and almost pushed his legs out from under him before
running out of force. So, instead of a violent, nerve jarring trip
through the air, his legs simply collapsed out from under him. A
surprised grunt escaped him when he hit the ground.
A dozen 16�s zeroed in on the explosion and sent a storm of lead lead
into the space Davis had occupied seconds before.
�CEASE FIRE! CEASE FIRE!�
A couple of rifles set on automatic popped off the last rounds in their
magazines.
�I SAID STOP SHOOTING GODDAMNIT!�
The firing abated. One of the newer troops rose out of his fighting
position, �What the hell is going... � His squad leader grabbed the back
of his LBE harness and jerked, sending him back down into his hole with
a muddy squelch.
One of the men that used to be next tio Davis in the firing line crept
up to his position and looked in. He covered his mouth with both hands
and made a beeline for the river. Another soldier, intrigued, crawled
over for a look , ... �MEDIC!�
A man in the rear began working his way to where Davis had fallen.
Kearns rose up on his haunches and took a quick look around before
standing up.
�Everybody up, Cruger, make take your squad and make sure the area is
secure.� Kearns quickly scanned the fields. �Fall into a perimeter,
Shaw, start searching those bodies.� Another glance at the medics
working on Davis. �And double tap all the goddamn VC.�
The platoon swung into action. Two squads quickly fell out of the
ambush line and reestablished a 360 perimeter that was centered on the
wreckage of the destroyed convoy. Cruger�s squad began tying up the two
prisoners with bits of 5-50 cord while the command squad searched the
wreckage with Sergeant Kearns.
�Sergeant! We found a whole outta contra around these boats.� That was
to be expected. The questions was... what kind of contraband. The type
of cargo might give a clue as two the purpose of these little VC
excursion. �Looks like a bunch of demo equipment, tools, rifles and
grenades for everyone in this little detail. They found an RPD in one of
the boats to the rear.�
Kearns walked up to the half-floating wreckage of a raft. Underneath a
large bean pastry was a sizable stash of blasting caps, the fuses
already attached. In 3-gallon water drum lashed to the underside of the
boat was a brick-sized hunk of explosive.
�They also have wiring, a little more fuse making equipment, all
wrapped up in shit the slopes like to give each other for the new year.�
Kearns looked into another boat. This one had a large waterproof metal
case that as lashed down to the boat�s frame. �Whats this ?�
�Oh, we thought it was a shaped charge at first, but...� Cruger popped
open the case�s seals. �Its filled with these little vials covered with
gook writing.� Inside the container was a neat collection of small glass
flasks. Each held two to three ounces of water, was stopped by a piece
of cork, and had a label on the side.
�No one were recognizes the writing. Must be one of the more obscure
gook languages.�
Kearns favored Cruger with a slightly peeved look, �Its not �Gook�
_Corporal_ its Chinese,� another look at the symbols, �Maderian I
think.�
Cruger shrugged his shoulders as if to say �I don�t know and I don�t
really care.� Kearns carefully set the flask back into the case and
closed the lid. Near the case was a ratty folder that contained several
pieces of weathered parchment. They were all covered in the same Chinese
script that was on the bottles. Kearns took out his flashlight and shone
the dim red light on the papers, Cruger peered over his shoulder in an
effort to get a better look.
�Corporal, get the RTO over here, battalion will wanna know about what
went down here tonight... shit, and we need a dustoff.� He snaked a hand
under his flak jacket and started rubbing a spot on his lower back.
�You gonna tell them we found a bunch of tubes filled with spring water
?� Cruger grabbed the handset from the radioman and passed it to Sgt
Kearns.
Kearns glanced up briefly at Cruger before replying. �No, I�m gonna
tell the S-2 we found a group of Victor Charlies trying to infiltrate
into the South.... again.� Kearns frowned at the papers and their
cryptic letters, �Though, I�d sure like to know what the hell this
says... alright, go check the permi and make sure everybody is laying
chilly. Check ammo, water and all that... this is leech country, you
might wanna make sure there�s salt to pass around.�
Sgt. Kearns keyed the mike.
=====
�Ok freeze it here.�
With a ratching sound and a groan of protest, an ancient film projector
froze on an image of Sgt. Kearns keying a handset mike to communicate
with someone. Although the image wasn�t in focus, and the edges of the
film were yellow with age, a viewer could still make out the two
prisoners tied together in the background and a case of small flasks
laying on the ground at his feet.
Two cheap government issue plastic chairs were placed just in front of
the projector. In each chair sat a suited man. They postures suggested
hours of sitting in uncomfortable positions, their clothes were wrinkled
from multiple attempts at shifting weight, rearranging articles of
clothing, and other attempts to relieve the aching that had settled into
their backs
The man on the right ran his thick fingers through salt and pepper
hair, the room was hot and stuffy, causing his brow to sweat profusely.
And when his forehead again its metabolic cooling process, his hair
suffered as well, the sweat would run down the sides of his face, mixing
with his sideburns and the stubble of his facial hair to create a
sticky, greasy, thoroughly disgusting feeling.
The man on the left fared much better than his partner. Age hadn�t left
its mark on him yet. Although he physique wasn�t nearly up to par with
the man on his right. Where the older person was barrel-chested, the
younger had a sickly gaunt. The older man had column like legs, his
companion�s toothpick thin supports seemed ready to snap at any moment.
But he had a kind face, a thick stock of brown hair, and delicate
features that attracted the ladies.
His partner was convinced he was a pansy. Look at him, even now
studying his fingernails, tucking stray bits of hair back behind his
ears while recrossing his legs every five minutes. *Only I get the
queers.... god, there is no god* Before the young man could do anything
more irritating the senior agent began talking.
�So, this.... Kearns was the person who found the first �samples� of
the project ?�
The junior agent looked at his clipboard before answering. �Yes,
Sergeant First Class/ now Sergeant Major John Kearns, born 1945, weighs
245 lbs, joined U.S. Army in November 1963, Height 5�11...
�Ok , ok thats enough of that. What has he been doing the last few
years ?� The other man flipped a few pages.
�Records say he�s been moving around overseas. Finished a 13 month
stint in Korea several weeks ago and is currently operating out of
China.� He scanned a few more pages. �Ah, he is temporarily attached to
a M.I. unit gathering intel on the Three Gorges project.�
The senior agent stroked his chin thoughtfully. �So he�s in China right
now ?�
�Yes Sir, he is ?�
The other man thought for a moment. �Get another tape of him, I want
to take a more in depth look at �Sergeant Kearns.�
The other agent quickly made a few more notes on the appropriate page.
�And you can put him down as a candidate for team leader, now find some
more tapes... and get the files on the other three people we have
slotted for the other postions in here.�
�Yes Sir.�
(To Be Continued)
---
Author�s Notes :
Well, one of my half-baked ideas thats been fleshed out slightly. I
jolted this down on a blank page in my CTT manual about a year ago. In
that time I started to write down some ideas concerning the direction I
wanted the story to take and how I could steer it in that direction.
Countless times during the writing process I would take a break for a
week or so and completely rethink my approach to certain events. I
rewrote the first chapter six times, maybe more.
Finally, I decided to write this �little� teaser and post it to see what
people thought of the base idea in the first place, to see if the
original idea even had any merit to begin with. So, I would greatly
appreciate any thoughts, C&C, remarks, etc. you the reader might have. I
am particularly interested in what you think of the characters involved.
I know that this beginning might not give you much of an opportunity to
have a look at their personality, but any conclusions you might have to
be welcome.
PS : To any old soldiers on the FFML that were around that the time. I
can�t quite remember when the Army finally phased out the M-14 from
general service. I recall it being used through out the war by SF units
and people that had arrived in the early 60�s but I think the draftee�s
stopped showing up with them in... 1966 maybe 65. Same thing goes for
the PRC-77. Platoon level radio introduced in the late 60�s or early
70�s I think. If anyone knows more about the accurate introduction dates
of these items please tell me.
This story was posted the first day of the lunar year. Imagine that.