Page 22 of Cry Havoc

No messages were sent to CCN in Da Nang or MACV-SOG headquarters in Saigon for approvals or to coordinate insertions and extractions or preplan close air support. These missions were completely off the books. Other recon teams knew of the expeditions, which they labeled the Odd Couple’s Hunting Adventures but kept them quiet. They would question the odd couple in detail over drinks in the team room upon their return, incorporating the lessons learned into their own teams’ standard operating procedures. Frank Quinn and Tom Reece had become part of MACV-SOG lore.

Prior to venturing outside the wire, Quinn would write up a basic mission op order and leave it on his bunk in case of emergency. It was labeled: UNODIR—Unless Otherwise Directed. Tom had passed along the idea of UNODIR from his time working with the Sharkman of the Delta on a previous deployment. Quinn loved it. This allowed them to circumvent the approval process up the chain of command. They specifically framed these unauthorized missions as training ops, which in a sense they were, serving to keep their skills sharp between official missions north of the border.

Amiuh took point on these unsanctioned forays into the jungle. He knew how to maneuver through the thick vegetation, stay off the trails, and most importantly how to sense when the enemy was nearby. Quinn had recruited Amiuh back in 1966 when he was running ops with Project Delta. The two Americans had learned a lot about the jungle from Amiuh.

These unapproved missions usually lasted less than twenty-four hours. That was enough time to work out kinks, return to base, adjust gear, and go out again the next day. Team Havoc was constantly adapting and evolving both their tactics and equipment. That is how one stayed alive in Southeast Asia.

Move, stop, listen.

They were just about to set up a RON site parallel to a trail when they smelled the smoke. Smoking in the jungle? It wouldn’t be the first time that a nicotine addiction had led to the death of an enemy combatant.

Quinn made the decision to approach.

Across the fence in Laos, the decision would have been different, but in Vietnam, so close to base, the risk of discovery was worth it.

It was closing in on last light, which meant that soon they would not be able to see their hands in front of their faces.

They crept slowly through the vines in the direction of the smoke.

The odor was getting stronger.

They slowed their pace.

Darkness was almost upon them. Tom judged they might have ten minutes of light left.

This was pushing it.

The SEAL caught sight of an NVA uniform through the vegetation. Was it the smoker? How many were with him? It was next to impossible to tell in the bush.

Tom saw Amiuh look back at his One-Zero. Quinn gave the hand signal to keep moving ahead, turning his head to ensure Tom got the message.

Tom nodded.

They could hear voices speaking in hushed Vietnamese.

Amiuh took another step and froze but signaled for Quinn and Tom to approach online.

How many, Tom wondered?

Sten guns and silenced High Standards were no match for a large force of NVA armed with AKs, SKSs, and RPDs, though there was something to be said for the element of surprise. This must be a small patrol, or Quinn would not have gestured them forward.

Just a few more minutes of light.

Tom saw Quinn take a knee just feet to Amiuh’s right.

He motioned for Tom to move up beside him.

Tom took it slow, deliberately choosing each foot placement until he was online with his teammates.

Then Tom saw them clearly.

Seven.

They looked like they were settling in for the night on the side of the trail.

Why did they feel so comfortable here?

They were all sitting down and had slung AKs except for one who carried a canvas satchel. An officer? A courier? Whoever he was, his only weapon was a handgun in a leather holster.