Phantom Leader Part 9

"Nice going, Captain. That will get you a Cee Eye Bee," Lopez said in an excited voice, then returned to get the mortar firing.

Toby turned back to his position at the rim, wondering what a CIB was.

Then he heard sounds that made his stomach leap.

From beyond the wire came the unmistakable squeak and clank of treads and the loud roar of diesel engines revving up. At the same time he heard a cry from one of the forward posts.

"Tanks in the wire. Tanks in the wire."

"Over there," Toby yelled at Lopez, He pointed to the closest perimeter, where two huge shapes were rumbling over the wire and posts as if they weren't there. Flames from the burning outpost buildings reflected red from their sides.

A man in a tiger suit rose from a fighting pit and fired a recoilless rifle at the tank on the left. When it punched a hole in the hull, two tankers boiled out of the top hatch. The man in the tiger suit grabbed an automatic weapon and blew the two men off the tank. The turret of the second tank swung aroun tiger suit disappeared in the explosion of the sh.e.l.l.

d, its 76mm gun coughed once, and the man in the Lopez wrestled a box out from the side of their pit. "Give me a hand," he said. They ripped it open and took out the containers of six LAWs (light ant.i.tank weapons). Lopez showed Toby how to take a LAW from its container, arm it, brace it on his shoulder, flip up the sight, aim, and press the rubber trigger mechanism.

The first one Toby tried did not fire. Lopez grabbed one and the same thing happened. The tank pointed its main gun at them and started firing its coaxial 7.62mm. Both Vietnamese mortarmen fell dead, their chests ripped open by the barrage. Lopez pulled Toby down next to him.

"Got to try again," he yelled above the uproar. They set up two more LAWs, Lopez double-checked Toby's. At Lopez's command, they both rose and fired. As before, nothing happened with Toby's. But Lopez's LAW fired. The rocket left the tube with a whoosh, trailing fire and sparks, and struck the tank squarely on the hull. Instead of penetrating, it rocketed skyward into the night fog.

"Heysus Christos," Lopez breathed. "We gotta get outta here. C'mon."

He grabbed the radio, dialed in the CP frequency.

"d.i.c.kson, Lopez. We're coming in. It's too hot out here."

They peered over the rim, waiting their chance. "My G.o.d, look at that,"

Toby said. A figure clad in a tiger suit got up from a pit and ran up to the side of a tank and exploded a grenade in its treads, causing it to lurch sideways and stop.

A companion tank blew the man to shreds with its co-ax machine gun.

Neither tank was concentrating on the pit where Toby and Lopez hid. A second figure, carrying a rifle, got up from the sh.e.l.l hole and ran in a crouch toward the command post. Toby could see it was Ryder.

"Now!" Lopez yelled. He grabbed the radio and bolted for the CP, Toby running behind, pain forgotten. Toby looked back as he ran. In the light of the flames, he saw three tanks at each end of the camp, climbing and churning over the wire, surrounded by infantrymen with a.s.sault rifles. All the defensive positions had been overrun, and except for a few scattered pops, the defensive firing had stopped.

Lopez screamed into the handset of the radio he carried, "We're coming in, we're coming in." They tore past the 55-gallon-drum concrete stoppers and down the stairs, around the 90-degree grenade-trap turn, and through the thick door that d.i.c.kson held open for them. Ryder slid down the steps behind them. When they were through, d.i.c.k son slammed the door shut and slid two thick planks into place like giant barn-door bolts.

Toby stood panting and gulping for air. In the room were d.i.c.kson, the radio operator, and three Vietnamese Special Forces men. Toby noticed the main generator must be running, because there was still light from a bare bulb hanging from a crossbeam.

"That was Olson out there," Ryder said, b.l.o.o.d.y and hollow-eyed. "He just blew that tank." He shook his head and sank down onto one of the cots. "I thought we were dead.

We had just made the rounds. All the posts are overrun."

"Who got the tank with the 1067 Lopez asked about the man with the recoilless rifle.

"One of the Viet SF guys. Then he got blown away," Ryder said. The radioman pointed to his p.r.i.c.k-25s. "There isn't a d.a.m.n one of them on the air anymore. We've lost contact with everybody," he said.

"The tanks are through the wire in two places," Lopez said. He was the ranking NCO, and now in charge. "Captain Parker, you see what Spooky can do-hook this into an outside antenna." He handed him the p.r.i.c.k-25 and showed him how to screw in the lead wire from the outside antenna.

"And you," he said to the radioman, "contact Jacksonville.

Find out why they haven't been shooting. Tell them to put the arty on Position Niner."

"Niner? That's us. You want it on top of us?" the radioman said, eyes wide.

"You got a better idea?" Lopez said. "This is a strong, deep bunker. We can take a direct hit from anything except a five-hundred-pound bomb.

Get talking." The man bent to his task.

Before Toby could call Spooky, the lights went out. In seconds the men had flashlights on and lit a Coleman lantern. Toby picked the handset.

"Spooky, Covey Four One. How do you read?" he transmitted.

"About Three By, Covey. There is a solid undercast now, can't see a thing down there. Not even sure we're kicking the flares out over the right spot. Understand, we can't see, so we can't shoot. In about thirty minutes we got to RTB for fuel. We can get a standby up here, but the weather's bad bad and forecast to remain that way for a couple days. You copy?"

"Roger, Spooky, copy."

"Sorry 'bout that, old son. But them's the cards tonight.

We'll stick around long as we can so at least you'll have someone to talk to. Spooky listening out." Toby put the handset down.

The radioman reached Jacksonville, the Marine artillery unit at Khe Sanh.

"s.p.u.n.ky, Jacksonville. We got problems here. We're under heavy attack.

We're taking rounds from a couple of NVA 152s on Co Roc."

Lopez grabbed the microphone. "Listen," he said. "We've got tanks on top of us RIGHT NOW. We need fire support.

Put it on Position Nine."

There was a pause while the man at Jacksonville looked up from his code table. "s.p.u.n.ky, you must be in big trouble.

Position Niner is right on your location."

Twelve long minutes later the big sh.e.l.ls from the Marine artillery at Khe Sanh screamed into the overrun Lang Tri compound. There were three barrages, each two minutes long, then silence. The men inside the bunker listened. There was no activity outside.

Lopez spoke on the radio. "Okay, Jacksonville, it's quiet.

We're going out for a look-see.

"Come on," he said to d.i.c.kson, "take the three Viets and cover me outside the door. Ryder, you take care of Captain Parker here." d.i.c.kson spoke a few words to the Vietnamese Special Forces men. They followed him out the door with Lopez, who still carried the radio. In seconds Lopez was transmitting back.

"It's a shambles out here. Nothing left standing. I'm checking the forward positions." There was silence for five minutes, then a boom followed by heavy rifle fire.

"I'm hauling a.s.s. Everything's occupied by the NVA. Get that door ready. They're coming out of the ground, and the tanks are moving again." Lopez was breathing hard and speaking as he ran.

"We're in deep s.h.i.t," Lopez yelled when he came in the door. d.i.c.kson fired a long burst and came in behind him with the two of the Vietnamese supporting the third. They slammed and bolted the door. The Vietnamese lowered their wounded man to a cot and tended to a fragment wound in his left thigh.

Lopez got on the radio to Jacksonville. "We can maybe hold out until morning, but once it's daylight and those guys see where the entrance to this bunker is, they'll just keep blasting and open us up like a sardine can. We got to have a relief force in here by first light or we're dead meat."

"s.p.u.n.ky, Jacksonville. You bet, partner. We got a bunch of Marines here that are ready to whip some NVA a.s.s."

"Hey, great, Jack," Lopez said. "s.p.u.n.ky listening out."

He motioned the men around the map table.

"Here's the way it is," he said, pointing to an overlay of the camp.

"The wire is down on the north and west walls, all the buildings are blown away, and the NVA are in just about every pit out there. Their tanks have withdrawn to G.o.d knows where, but you know they'll be back.

The way I see it, we have two choices. We can chance an ex-fil out of here tonight and try to make it up to the Khe Sanh camp, or we can wait for the Marine reinforcements tomorrow and fight our way out."

"What's our chances of making it out tonight?" d.i.c.kson asked.

"Dog s.h.i.t," Ryder said. "We'd have to slip out through the east wire, then through the f.u.c.king jungle and through the NVA lines at night, then hope the jarhead listening posts don't blow us away."

"Well said," Lopez said. "Now let's see if we can get through to Nha Trang and give 'em a sitrep."

He tried the HF on batteries without luck. "I think the antenna is down." He looked at Toby. "How about you raise Spooky and have them relay a message to Green House Six at Nha Trang?"

"Who is Green House Six?" Toby asked.

"Colonel Bull Dall," Lopez said. "He's the commander of the Fifth Special Forces Group."

Toby tried the p.r.i.c.k-25 wired into the external antenna.

There was no answer. He screwed the regular blade-antenna back on and stuck it up an air shaft. This time he got an answer.

"Roger, Covey Four One. Spooky Two Seven here. Read you three by three. We replaced Two Two. We still can't see to shoot, but we've got enough gas to orbit your location until daylight."

"Spooky, we need you to contact Green House Six at Nha Trang and relay the s.p.u.n.ky sitrep. Our HF is out," Toby said.

"Can do, Covey. Stand by." After five minutes Spooky called back.

"Covey, Spooky. We've patched you direct to Green House. Begin your transmission."

Lopez took the handset and gave the details to Green House, and added that the Marine relief would be in at first light. "You're covered, s.p.u.n.ky," Green House Six replied.

"Just hold out until morning. You copy?"

"Roger, Green House, nice to know the wheels are concerned," Lopez said.

"Nothing's too good for our boys in the field. Green House listening out."

An hour later the explosion knocked down every man in the bunker and blew Toby off the cot. The overpressure snuffed out the Coleman lantern. Acrid smoke and dust stung their nostrils. Toby felt as if he had been hit on both ears with cupped hands.

"What in h.e.l.l was that?" someone moaned.

"Light the f.u.c.king lantern," Lopez commanded. There was a sput of matches. The lantern revealed the Vietnamese and American men in various stages of shock and disarray, getting up from the ground and brushing themselves off, their eyes vacant and shocked. Dirt streamed from the roof, then stopped.

"That was no ordinary blast," Ryder said. "That was a high-power job put together with a dud Mark Eighty -one and C-4 as the detonator." The Mark 81 was an American 2501b bomb that had failed to explode when it was dropped from an airplane. As with all the duds, the NVA had sawed out the explosives and wired a detonator into it.

"How the h.e.l.l do you know that?" d.i.c.kson asked.

"Because, d.i.c.khead, I smell the C-4 and I know 250 pounds of s.h.i.t going off when I hear and feel it." Ryder, cross-trained into demolitions, examined the door to the bunker. "It's holding, but maybe one more of those and it might let go." He took the lantern to look overhead and check the beams. "We've got eight feet of concrete and dirt up there.

Willoughby built a h.e.l.luva CP, we're in good shape. For a while anyhow." Willoughby was the former team commander. Ryder crossed to check the ventilation shafts. They went out at angles with two U-traps in each to keep out rainwater and, most important, grenades.

They involuntarily flinched as two smaller explosions sounded outside the door. Dirt trickled down from the ceiling. "Grenades," Ryder said.

"They're too small to do any damage to us."

Lopez took a long pull of water from a canteen. "Drink UP, guys, it's going to be a long night."

"Or a short one if they work up another Mark Eightyone," d.i.c.kson said.

The three Vietnamese sat quietly in the corner, eyes flashing, clutching their rifles. They had bandaged the wounded man's leg.

Two loud bangs sounded from the ventilator shafts. The concussion caused Toby to clasp his hands to his ears. Acrid smoke poured into the room. Then two pops came from each shaft, followed by a hissing noise.

"GAS, GAS," Ryder screamed. "Hoi, hoi, " he yelled to the Vietnamese, and pinched his nose in pantomime.

A thick white smoke began to flow from the shaft vents.

d.i.c.kson and Lopez ran to the supply room, ripped open a carton, and threw gas masks out into the main room.

Coughing, eyes streaming, Toby held one to his face, but it was too late for him, and for the Vietnamese. All four started vomiting into whatever rags and containers were handy.

Toby used the poncho liner thrown over his cot. They couldn't help themselves. The more they vomited and gasped, the more tear gas with vomit kicker they inhaled.

Toby felt convulsed and helpless. The spasms were like bands of fire across his stomach, and his throat felt like he had drunk lye.

d.i.c.kson and Ryder frantically picked up every bit of cloth they could find and stuffed it into the vents, stopping the gas flow. Toby and the Vietnamese rinsed out cloths with canteen water and bathed their eyes and mouths, then they flapped wet towels in the air to absorb the remaining gas.

Lopez looked at his watch. "With those vents closed, we haven't much air in here. Maybe only ten, twelve hours."

"Maybe we'd better call in those Marines from Khe Sanh.

Their CO said he'd send two rifle companies," d.i.c.kson suggested.

Ryder snorted. "We'd never hear the last of it. Since when do we need the Marines to save our a.s.ses?"

"We don't need them yet. If we can't get Spooky to shoot by daylight, then I'll call," Lopez said.

There were two more grenade explosions at the door, then silence.

"Let's fix things up," Lopez said. "Get every weapon, clean 'em, check the ammo, police up this place so there's no paper sc.r.a.ps to catch on fire, see what else we have to barricade the door in case they do have that second Mark Eightyone. Inventory the supply room."