In Hell With Dragons by Richard Shaffer CHAPTER EIGHT REVENGE IS SWEET

CHAPTER 8
REVENGE IS SWEET

The morning sun was hot. By mid-morning it was really hot. After checking to see that everyone was ready to leave, we broke into the jungle. The area that we were in required work with the machetes. We had to make our own trails through the jungle. We never tried to use the existing trails for fear of booby-traps. Even worse were the command-detonated mines or Claymores. The going was painfully slow at first. At a distance of about 2,000 meters, we finally broke out of the jungle into a clearing. The river was located straight ahead, approximately 300 meters on the other side of the clearing. We followed the southern course of the river for about 2,500 meters and then stopped for chow. My feet were already dog-tired and the day was only half over.

"Make sure you men spread out. Don't bunch up too much on your breaks."

"Man, it can't get any hotter than this," said Collins.

"You wanna bet?" challenged Mantley. "Charlie finds us like this sittin on our butts, it'll get even hotter when the lead starts flying."

"Ah, I don't think Charlie is around this neck of the woods. No sign of him being here at all," said Gerard.

"You know why Charlie hasn't been around?" asked Mantley.

"No, why?"

"Because one whiff of Johnson down-wind and Charlie took off runnin'. He thought us grunts had a new secret weapon or something. He didn't want no part of it. So he just took off across the border into Cambodia."

"Ah, you guys are just jealous," said Johnson. "It takes a real talented grunt like myself to know when to take a bath and when not to take a bath. I've chosen not to lately."

"Yea Johnson, we know. We can tell you've been real serious about your personal hygiene lately," said Sawyer.

"Why don't you just go jump in the river over there Johnson?" asked Mantley. "In case you start to drown, we'll throw the soap in after you."

"Why don't all of you guys just kiss my ass," retorted Johnson.

"God forbid," said Cunningham. "We'd all die from asphyxiation."

The rest of the afternoon was spent on blowing bunkers and collapsing tunnels along the river's edge. The work had become boring and repetitious. Still no sign of the enemy yet. It came to an end around 1800 hours. We were all tired as hell, except Johnson. He wanted to keep moving. He didn't like the spot where we decided to stay. Sometimes I wondered if he was for real.

Word spread through the company that the 2nd Platoon had found a huge bunker complex. It was as large as a good-sized ranch house, only underground. It had ammunition, plastic explosives, used by the enemy in its Claymores, and enough rockets to blow the hell out of a lot of armored personnel carriers. We were told, when morning came, we were going to blow it up. With that much stuff it would make one hell of a hole. Not to mention the mushroom cloud that would result from it. I just hoped that when they did blow it, we'd be far enough away. We were told to stand-down for the night. We were going to spend the night along the river.

The night was uneventful. When we were told we would be moving in the next hour, our concentration was directed toward the blowing of the ammunition bunker. The company took up position away from the blast at least half a mile. It turned out that a mile wouldn't have been far enough. The blast was so huge, it looked like a small atomic bomb had gone off. We were showered with debris. Luckily, no one had received any injuries. The next few days became increasingly boring. Searching for the enemy became a discouraging hunt. It was as though he had just disappeared.

As the days waned during the middle of May, I decided to take care of some problems at home. With the lull in activity, I applied for an emergency leave, which was granted within a few days. My presence at home was necessary. I hated to leave the platoon the way I did, but they understood and I appreciated their concern. The two weeks at home afforded me the opportunity to take care of some personal problems that I wouldn't have been able to take care of otherwise. My wife and I were not getting along, so she decided to end the relationship by filing for divorce. I tried to talk her out of it but it didn't do any good. Our two children were the main concern, but she had made up her mind.

While I was away on leave the company returned to base camp at Cu Chi. They terminated the operation in the Delta with only a couple of casualties. I was glad to hear that some new replacements had arrived. Everyone in my platoon was okay. I was relieved to hear that.

After I got back, that first night I didn't sleep well at all. Waking up in the middle of the night, I walked the length of the company area - thinking about home. Things hadn't turned out the way I had hoped, but losing sleep over it wasn't going to help either. My being here in Vietnam was wrecking the hell out of my morale. I needed to do something to keep my mind occupied. I needed to stop thinking about home, put my mind at ease, and think about my job here. I also had a responsibility to my men to not let any of them see me like this, to not let them down.

The next day I was returning to my tent from the mess hall when a familiar voice called my name.

"Hey Shaf, what the hell's going on?"

I looked back in between the barracks and into a haze of smoke. As I approached where the voice came from, I recognized who it was.

"Well I'll be a dirty name. How the hell are you, Cryder?"

"Just fine. They finally decided to let me out of the hospital. I thought for awhile there I was going to take up permanent residence."

"Well I'm sure glad to see you're back. You're a sight for sore eyes."

"Yea, I do look pretty good, don't I?"

"Yea, you do look fine. How you feeling though? You okay?"

"I'm as healthy as a horse and a hell of a lot uglier."

The smoke was coming from a homemade barbecue pit.

"How the hell do you rear-echelon guys rate eating barbecued steaks?"

"We just used our GI ingenuity, along with our rear-echelon kind of mentality, and traded away a captured Thompson sub-machine gun to this transportation outfit. Man, they'll trade away anything they've got to get their hands on captured weapons. Suits our taste quite well, don't you think?"

"Yea, I'd say. Looks like you've done real well."

"Can we put a steak on the fire for you Shaf?" asked Smitty.

"No, no thanks. I just got out of the mess hall. We had tube steak to eat over there."

"Yea, that's what we heard. That's why we're cooking out tonight," said Cryder. "How about a beer then? It's cold."

"Fine. I'd like that."

"Smitty, throw me one of those beers out of the cooler, will ya? Better yet, throw me two. I could use another."

"How have you been lately, Smitty?" I asked.

"Fine. I haven't seen you around lately. You been away on leave, haven't you?"

"Yea, I just got back yesterday."

"How's everything at home?" asked Cryder. "I didn't know."

"I had a problem at home that required my presence. It didn't turn out the way I'd hoped. You know how it is."

"Yea, I know what you mean. Life's a bitch, ain't it?"

Cryder opened up the beers and handed me one. He tipped up the one he was holding and drank it down in about two seconds.

"What? You dying of thirst or something? I ain't seen anybody ever do that before."

"Yea, how about that? I ain't got any feeling in the back of my throat anymore. Ever since that bullet exited my neck, I can't feel any pain back there at all. I can take any unsuspecting GI in a beer-drinking contest anytime."

"Yea, I guess you could. Just remember, I'm your friend and I don't take bets."

"Yea, I'll try and remember that. By the way, how do you like my trophy scar?" He pulled open his shirt and you could see the pink scar tissue still trying to heal. The scar ran from half way up his stomach to the left side of his neck.

"Yea, that's real handsome zipper Cryder. A real trophy to take home with you. You're a lucky SOB and if I were you, I'd be more careful who you show it to."

"Yea, I guess you're right. It looks worse than it really was."

"One thing though. It does fit that ugly mug of yours," I told him.

"Yes it does, it sure as hell does. Smitty, throw us a couple more beers, will you?"

"No, no thanks I got to go. You have another for me. I'll check you guys out later."

"What's your hurry? Stay awhile."

"I've got to catch up on some letter writing. I'm neglecting my other relatives at home, so I thought I'd drop them a line or two."

"No, you don't want to fall behind on your letters to home. Okay, I'll see you later Shaf. Take care of yourself. We haven't too much time ourselves tonight. We'll be going outside the wire tonight, soon as it starts getting dark."

"You going out on patrol tonight, huh?"

"Yea, we're going to see if Charlie wants to join our little party. I'm itching to find a way to even things up with him for my time in the hospital."

"Say, you couldn't use another hand tonight, could you?"

"What do you mean man? Are you crazy or something?"

"No, I mean it. I could use the time outside the wire. I've been out of action for a couple of weeks, just like you. I'm a little rusty and besides, I could use the time to get my mind off other things. What do you say?"

"Shit Shaf, I don't mind. If that's what you want it's okay with me. I just think you're nuts."

"I am. But just keep it a secret between you and me. Okay?"

"Yea, okay. Check back with me at dusk. That's when we're moving out toward the wire."

"Right. I'll see you then. Thanks for the beer."

Maybe I was nuts. I really didn't care. Everyone was nuts being in this war. All I knew was that I needed to do something to keep my mind occupied. All I had to do was keep busy. Going on patrols was one way of keeping your mind alert and off other matters. Hell, all I had to do was keep from getting myself killed.

We all met up later. It was 2000 hours and almost dark. They just completed their equipment checks when I joined them.

"You sure you want to go along, Shaf? You can change your mind."

"Sgt. Cryder, why are you concerned about me? I'm not a rookie going out there tonight."

"I'm not worried about you. I just want to make sure you know what you're doing isn't normal."

"Screw you sergeant! Let's go. Charlie's waiting to join your party."

We moved out toward the bunker line. The patrol had nine members in it, including myself. Sgt. Cryder briefed me on the mission as we were going out. Tactical Operations Center had suspected some Viet Cong reconnaissance activity in our sector along the bunker line. They were probably looking for vulnerable areas outside our lines. The woodline out from our bunker line had been bulldozed back at least 3,500 meters. For the VC to launch an attack with mortars or rockets from this area, he would almost be sure of being detected from the air-recon choppers. We were being sent out to try and intercept any activity Charlie might be up to.

About an hour or so after we left the secure confines of the bunker line, we halted at a quarry. The quarry had a watering hole that Charlie might try to use on his way back. If that's the case, we'll be here waiting for him. If he does show up, he'll run into a well-placed trap.

The moon was in its final phase. The night sky became a dark, vast existence. We could hardly make out any of the features that surrounded our area. A couple of hours had gone by and we heard nothing but a gentle breeze rustling about. I started thinking of home again. I had to get my mind on other things. Another two hours went by. It was well past midnight. Still nothing. We were getting rambunctious. Finally at around 0130 hours, we heard some faint sounds coming in from the distance to our front. We detected voices, faint at first, then becoming sharper. They were definitely headed toward us. As time passed the sounds stopped. We all thought the same thing. They must have changed direction and gone off. Then all of a sudden the voices became clearer. The language was not English. Could the voices be an ARVN patrol out looking for the enemy also? We decided it couldn't be. We would have known if there was another patrol in our area before we came out. It had to be Charlie. As they approached us, we plainly made them out to be VC. There were six of them, all carrying AK-47's and another was carrying an RPG with rockets.

Sgt. Cryder whispered to us to get ready to spring the ambush.

"Throw the frags out first, then the machinegun will open up on them. Do not fire unless you have to."

The VC were now only about 50 feet away from the ambush. Sgt. Cryder pulled the pin from his grenade and the rest of us did the same. Finally he tossed his forward and six others followed. Talk about overkill - three probably would have done the job. We just wanted to make damn sure of it. We all ducked our butts behind the quarry wall waiting for the grenades to go off. I heard a mumbling of Vietnamese and then the deafening noise of the explosions pierced my eardrums. Then the chatter of the machinegun broke the night air. The firing seemed to go on forever. They had started firing from their flanks and continued firing until no one remained standing. It was all over in a matter of a few seconds. Sgt. Cryder yelled out to the gunner to cease fire. The main section of the patrol had never fired a round. They didn't have to.

"Cease fire!" he yelled. "Cease fire! They're all dead, forget it."

We checked to make sure nothing else was coming down that trail. Everything was okay. There was nothing out there but six bodies. Sgt. Cryder was the first to get up and move toward the ambush victims. He was followed by the rest of the squad. We checked to see that they were dead and checked their bodies for papers or documents.

"Call into TOC and tell them we made contact," said Cryder.

The RTO responded to the order and called in the information. It took him awhile to get through, then finally they answered the call. They must have been asleep because the RTO was giving them hell for not answering right away. Here we are out here risking our ass and putting it all on the line, and our support and life-line is back there dozing off.

"Hot damn!" one of the men yelled out.

"Yea, it doesn't get anymore satisfying than this," said Cryder.

One of the other members of the patrol picked up one of the captured weapons. It just happened that it was one of ours, an M-16. They VC probably captured it themselves either from the ARVN or maybe one of our guys. You never know where they picked them up from. When you do find the VC with one of our own weapons, the fact that you retrieved it back in battle is even more satisfying.

"Look at this shit, man. I feel real good right about now."

Sgt. Cryder held an AK-47 aloft.

"Looks like we just might be eating barbecue spareribs this weekend," he joked.

I had to turn away from the carnage in front of me. I couldn't stand the smell of it any longer. Once that smell enters the nostrils it just doesn't go away. I just couldn't stand a celebration at this point. There really wasn't anything to celebrate for. The death of another human being? My stomach couldn't take it, so I just turned away and puked my guts out.

"What's the matter, Shaf? Aren't you feeling well?"

"Nothing Smitty, I'm okay. I'm just not used to this shit yet."

"None of us ever get used to it," he said. "It hits all of us like that sooner or later. You just have to blot it out of your mind. You have to consider it as part of the job, and not take it personal."

Death just doesn't seem as final as it is. I was thinking that they'd get up and just walk away and go home, that all of this wasn't real. It was just a game. Yea, a game. A deadly game. Of course, I knew the reality of the situation wouldn't permit that. Everything in this stinking war is real. It's not something to take lightly. It could be us laying there motionless. Hell we could be running into the same shit when we leave here.

I'd gotten a bellyful as far as this war was concerned. I just couldn't continue this way. I had to get myself adjusted to this war. It's brutality. Its finality. War wasn't supposed to be anything less. I was well aware of that, but I didn't have to like it. I wanted to get the hell away from here. I wanted this to end.

Sgt. Cryder had the area secured and ordered the bodies dumped over into the quarry.

"Tell TOC that we are coming back in, we've confirmed a total of six enemy KIA, and sustained no friendly casualties. Repeat no friendly casualties."

"That's good enough. You don't have to cover them. Let the buzzards have a feast."

When we finally left the quarry area to start back to our lines, I felt relieved we were getting the hell out of there. Who knows, another patrol of VC may be close by. I wouldn't like ending up the way they just did. We wanted to get back as soon as possible, hoping that we'd be able to do it without being detected ourselves.

When I reached base camp I never said a word about where I had been. I didn't want the men in my platoon to know that I had gone on patrol with another platoon. When questioned why I had my gear on, I explained that I was out inspecting the security of the bunker line. It was 0400 when we finally reached the company area. I went straight to my locker and pulled out a bottle of rum that I'd been saving. I took a couple of long swigs and settled down for a good night's rest. I was bushed. All I needed was sleep. I didn't go to sleep very quickly. I kept thinking of what had just happened. I din't like myself very much. I tried to just relax and forget it.

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