Page 4 of Cry Havoc

Recon Teams were disappearing with increasing frequency these days.

Not now, Tom, damn it.

You can discuss it with Quinn over beers in the Green Beret Lounge at Phu Bai.

But first you have to get to Phu Bai.

The jungle erupted in gunfire, most directed at the position Tom’s element had recently occupied.

They don’t know exactly where we are, not yet.

Good.

Tom could see Quinn’s element moving toward them, which meant they had less than three minutes before their five linked claymores detonated.

“Tommy-son,beaucoup VC. Charlie,” Mang whispered, pointing to the left flank.

Even though these were NVA, VC and Charlie had become colloquial terms for “enemy,” to include NVA and Pathet Lao.

If you see them, you better shoot first. Do not hesitate.

Tom let the RPD hang on its leather sling, transitioned to the cut-down M79, broke open the action, switched the flechette for a high-explosive round, closed the action, thumbed the safety forward, aimed, and depressed the trigger. He was rewarded with the distinctive low-pressure thump of the projectile operating precisely as designed, a sound that resulted in the M79’s nickname: Thumper. He reloaded and fired another 40mm grenade into the flanking enemy. He was joined by the team’s dedicated Montagnard M79 gunner who carried the full-size weapon. The ’Yard sent three HE projectiles before reloading with a flechette round, ducking and falling into the line of march.

The team had practiced this immediate action drill time and time again at their Monkey Mountain training area to either break contact, continue mission, or as in this case, break contact, move to extract.

Keep moving. To stop is to die.

They could move faster now, with the rain and the confusion caused by the first set of claymores.

Tom pivoted his head toward the smoke that still lingered after the linked claymore detonation to see figures moving through the haze.

That’s a lot of NVA.

This is more than just a simple patrol.

His eyes met those of an NVA soldier. As the enemy combatant pivoted his AK toward the SOG man, Tom brought up his M79 just as Quinn’s three-minute time fuse detonated the five linked stay-behind mines.

A thunderous explosion shook the jungle, as 3,500 steel ball bearings ripped through the bodies of the NVA point element.

Move.

The SOG Team opted to sacrifice security for speed to take advantage of the chaos. Though they didn’t know if weather would ground air assets, their top priority was making it to extract before darkness set in.

Tom heard Quinn calling “Prairie Fire Emergency” through the handset. Now someone just had to receive the transmission.

Nothing.

Need to get somewhere we can make comms.

A smaller explosion reverberated to their rear; one of their toe poppers or grenades on trip wires. Whether it killed or maimed, those devices should cause the NVA to think twice before they took another step.

Havoc continued to put as much distance between their element and the NVA as possible. Even in the gloom of triple canopy rainforest, they could tell it was getting darker. They were on the clock, compromised, across the fence in Laos, being hunted by an unknown number of NVA.

Just another day in SOG.

Quinn passed back the hand signal for a hasty perimeter at the edge of a small clearing of elephant grass and keyed his handset.

“Covey, this is Havoc. Troops in contact! I say again troops in heavy contact!”