All at once, ambush dismay dawned on young Lieutenant Jeremiah Piper. A wrong decision now at Bao Cat would mean life, death, or mutilation for every man in his platoon. It could leave him as the last man standing in full warrior’s shame. His brain quickly traced the tactical books he devoured at Rochester’s River Army ROTC. He unfolded in his mind the summer combat exercises at Camp Durban. But there was no time now to draw a terrain model in the dirt. No way to instantly communicate his plan with the rest of the platoon. He must design and execute a plan of attack or die. Lead a suitable, decisive offensive against the ferocious village defenders.

He had been a top-notch student officer of the Pershing Rifles Society, Lake Ontario campus, Rochester U, Class of 1965. Received awards as an outstanding student cadet and was co-captain of the football team. Also, a good soul, presiding over the county Baptist Youth Organization. Piper scoured his mind for workable options. He prayed hard for the precise troop maneuver to put the adversary on a fast retreat into the jungle.

Nothing came to mind. In a heavy sweat, he recognized his total lack of battlefield experience. Unashamedly, and for the sake of his men and his limbs and soul, he decided instead to fuly rely on Captain Cardenas for direction.

Ulises observed the platoon leader’s every move. He estimated they were the same age, allowing for a year or two difference. Piper did not seem confused, merely hesitant. Overcautious.

The remaining platoon elements, still behind the bamboo gate, advanced toward the village’s eastern flank. They did this slowly and cautiously with no one’s command. Piper surmised that more than one sharpshooter were nested among the treetops. The men got fire from all three sides of the advance. He took stock of the twelve men’s position and devised a tactic. The village’s eastern entrance faced toward Da Nang Bay, with Papio and Duquel already wounded by the front gate. The west flank entrance faced toward Laos. None of the men were near it yet. It was the least protected. He saw at least two furrowed infiltration paths leading into the dense jungle. South was a precipice of rocks and crags. The thick of Tango’s advance was by the northern ridge with him, Thibodeaux, and point man Espino up front. Seven troopers were still climbing, including medic Rawlings, and grenadier Jaramillo. The riflemen included Castel, Dacosta, Azulia and Galan. Top sarge Tabal stayed back below with Boi as rear guard.

 The hamlet contained maybe a dozen wood-sided, straw-roofed shacks, which appeared to be dwellings, erected over a dusty esplanade. If not for the snipers, the hamlet appeared uninhabited and ghostly.

Piper’s reasoning accelerated dramatically, crushed by adrenaline. Finding no quick-fix option for a pivotal advance, he opted for improvisation. A tactic dropped into his brain like a vulture diving on its prey.  He figured it was best to encircle the enclave slowly from the northwest. Carefully, because half of the hamlet was on the Laotian side of the border. The idea was to force the defenders into the open eastern mesa. There, the Cayuse could machine gun them from the air. He hoped Captain Cardenas was carrying an M-60 on board or had a door gunner with him. He carefully reran the thought through his head, knowing it would need full coordination with the captain and pilot. If they had no gunner, he would scrap that option. The plan required close radio contact with the Cayuse and Cardenas had disallowed it.

Silently, he practiced a message. “I believe I can jockey each soldier to a frontal attack position into the northwest flank. Move the forward elements closer to the large border boulders and go on full offensive into the hamlet from the unprotected rear. All I need is suppressive fire from the chopper to protect the maneuver.” 

Captain Cardenas interrupted Piper’s thought process with new instructions from the Cayuse a thousand feet above.  

“Hold position. No explosives should be used at the rear of the village. Infiltration tunnels and command centers could be located under pig pens for camouflage. Need to capture any documents there intact.” 

Prac. Prac. Prac. Over a dozen more sniper bullets flew through the ferns, towards the elephant grass and on the foothills below, Fragments of twigs and shrubbery blew up alongside the uphill pathway. Piper noticed all the shots were of the same caliber. Then a silence. He yelled to Espino for a situation report. The buck sergeant came closer and summarized his take.

“Not good, sir. So far, the sniper offensive gives the impression of a coordinated mode between three elements. Deftly using hand signals. All our flanks are targets.”

“Need to counterattack soon, or they’ll overrun us. Why do they shut own sporadically?” Piper said in a strained voice. His youngish face furrowed up deep. Thick sweat ran down his forehead.

 “Psycho trap, sir,” said Espino calmly, staring hard at the village gate. “The lull moments are meant to lure us closer to the center. There they go in for a kill. It’s a ruse the Viet Cong expertly employs before springing a final lethal ambush.” 

More than half the platoon finally reached the craggy top and began to coalesce as a single fighting force as Piper wanted. The Lieutenant seized the opportunity to disregard the captain’s order. With the experienced buck sarge now at his side, Piper ordered Grenadier Jaramillo to lob as many explosives as he could in a row toward the tree canopy surrounding the village. The thickest coverings were over the pig pens. 

Jaramillo sent ten of his twenty-two-round explosives pack flying as tree branches snapped and fell noisily onto the hamlet’s thatched and zinc metal roofs. At least two of the rounds were firebombs, which exploded in hellish flames behind the villa. Domestic animals and vultures frantically sought escape routes away from the hellfire.

This gave Piper, Thibodeaux, Castel, Azulia, and Galan freedom of movement to advance. He instructed Galan to throw Papio Pinay –though wounded yet still functional– two new ammo belts. This allowed for heavier suppression from the eastern flank. Hopefully, doc Rawlings could now reach Ulises.   

Further below, Tabal and Boi radioed. They converted into a two-man mortar team and were ready to lay down some explosives on the village. Cardenas caught the message and redirected the coordinates for the bombs to hit the village’s communal plaza. He expected the still-active defenders to flee away from the lethal ordnance into Laos. They would use tunnels for their escape.

“Fire for effect,” Cardenas ordered.

“Outgoing spotter round,” said Tabal

The first mortar hit too close to the approaching troop. The captain hastily called for adjustments. The next explosive and another incendiary round were on target.

Tabal usually led the troop’s Indirect Fire Team, which consisted of a small knee mortar tube. Six shells flew out in succession and loudly exploded at Bao Cat’s forested perimeter. Incredibly, the guerrilla countered with a blast of .30 caliber machine gun fire from deep within the hamlet. Tango’s mortar went silent.  

“Damn”, Duquel groaned.” Hope they’re not hit.” 

Piper got on the radio and asked Cardenas to help locate the enemy sharp shooters from above. He also requested authorization for a grenade attack on the west village perimeter.   

“Negative,” The captain replied tersely. “Repeat, no artillery into the rear command center complex.” 

Ulises, with his ear on the ground trying to deflect his bleeding, could hear boots stomping on the trail. He heard the clatter of rifles and grenade launchers. The sound of exploding small mortar rounds filled the air. There was a metallic clink of bayonets and the clanging of ammo clips. Bodies thumping to the ground for protection. There was rapid fire from the right flank by Espino and sporadic zoot-zoot launches from the grenadier Jaramillo. The clattering noise sounded rhythmic in Duquel’s ears. It was as if the Saigon Son sextet were in concert again, this time on a dance of death.

“Get the medic up here,” Piper yelled from behind a large bolder to the right of the village’s main gate. Duquel’s instincts were right about him. Although devious in his ways, the officer possessed strong moral courage.

“Rawlings is moving up the hill as fast as he can, sir,” Espino shouted back. The Buck had reached the head of the troop again. He dodged lead plugs and was almost close to Duquel. Yet, he did not move to assist him. From the start of the formation of Tango Troop at Hill 54, Espino despised Duquel. His antagonism was deliberate, and he never made any effort to hide it. Ulises did not expect Espino would risk his life for him. It didn’t matter. In his death spiral, Ulises did not care anymore about antipathy.

Memories of his childhood and the events of the past few months unwound in his mind. He only sought to ease the uneasiness of dying. His emotions lulled. His mind focused on how and why he came to be dying so far from home. Yet so near to his estranged lover’s embracing arms.

♠

NEXT CHAPTER: BAD BLOOD