Page 30 of Cry Havoc (Tom Reece #1)

“TOMMY-SON, TOMMY-SON!”

Tom opened his eyes, blinked, and Amiuh came into focus.

Tom pushed himself up.

“Where’s Quinn?”

“By jeep,” Amiuh said.

Amiuh handed Tom his rifle and magazines. Tom rose to a knee, getting his bearings. He seemed to be in one piece.

Amiuh pointed at the dead man with a recoilless rifle who now lay dead in the alley. “I sorry, Tommy-son. I not fast enough.”

“It’s okay, Amiuh. I’m good.”

“You lucky, Tommy-son.”

I’ve always been lucky.

Tom turned to look behind them. The street appeared clear.

The fight was in front of them.

“Our driver dead, Tommy-son. Just us left here.”

Tom could see Quinn returning fire down the street with an M16.

Captain Lam was leaning against the rear tire.

A 1911 was in his hand, and he was pressing it against a wound in his left arm.

Their prisoner and one ARVN guard crouched at the tail of the jeep with Dan Eldridge.

Another ARVN guard lay dead nearby. The unarmored cargo truck was now a burning hulk of metal riddled with bullet holes.

“Can you drive this thing?” Tom asked, indicating their gun truck.

“Yes, Tommy-son.”

“All right, it’s armored, so we have a chance.

You fire it up. I’ll take the .50 in the back.

Drive in front of Quinn’s jeep. We should be able to soak up a few rounds.

Place the truck between the enemy and the jeep.

I’ll provide cover. Quinn will load his pax into the back.

After he does, floor it down that alley where the bus came from. Got it?”

“Ready.”

“Go!”

Tom leapt to his feet and pulled himself into the back of the gun truck, making his way to the .

50. He heaved what was left of the gunner out of the way and slid behind the weapon as he felt the truck shudder to life with Amiuh at the wheel.

He quickly noted that both the right and left belted feeds still had a ready supply of ammunition and that the bolt catches were locked out of engagement, which meant they were set to fire on fully automatic. The M2 was primed to go to work.

At the sound of the vehicle’s engine turning over, the insurgents shifted their fire from the jeep to the gun truck.

Tom could hear the 7.62 rounds of the enemy impacting the armored paneling that protected the truck’s bed. They made a different sound when they hit the sandbags around the fenders.

From his elevated position, Tom saw combatants with AK and SKS rifles firing at Quinn from behind parked cars.

He depressed the triggers on the dual .50s as Amiuh put the truck in gear, the heavy rounds eating through what moments earlier had been cover.

Amiuh positioned the armored truck between Quinn’s jeep and the burning cargo vehicle.

“Get in!” Tom shouted between bursts, preventing the insurgents from shooting while his friend and their new passengers loaded up.

“Come on!” Tom shouted.

The .50s continued to do the work that John Moses Browning intended, tearing through the enemy ranks, removing heads and limbs, cutting people in two.

Quinn, Eldridge, Captain Lam, an ARVN guard, and the prisoner crawled into the bed of the armored vehicle.

“Go! Go! Go!” shouted Quinn.

Tom slammed his hand down twice on the roof of the cab and got right back on the .50s, keeping the enemy suppressed as Amiuh hit the gas and maneuvered the huge vehicle down the side street and away from the battle.

“Stay down!” Tom said as he swung the weapon to cover their six, ripping multiple bursts into the beaten zone.

Amiuh took the next right, which put them behind cover.

“Everyone okay?” Tom asked as his passengers struggled onto the wooden benches that ran down both sides of the truck’s bed.

Quinn pushed the prisoner down into the seat across from him, doing a quick visual evaluation.

“Charlie’s good,” he said, referring to the prisoner. “Eldridge?”

“I’m okay,” the State Department man managed.

“Captain Lam?” Quinn asked.

The captain nodded, keeping the 1911 pistol pressed against a wound on his left bicep.

Quinn looked at the ARVN guard, who nodded.

“We’re good!” Quinn shouted up at Tom.

Quinn and the ARVN guard both still had rifles and took up security positions to the right and left sides of the gun truck while Tom pivoted the .50s back to the front.

Captain Lam had his eyes on the prisoner.

Just a little farther, Amiuh, Tom thought. Then we pull over and get someone up front who knows where we are going.

A gunshot brought his attention to the cargo area behind him.

What the fuck was that?

He snapped his head to the rear to see Captain Lam standing over the dead prisoner holding his 1911.

There was not time to pivot the large machine guns rearward so his hand went to the .25 Browning in his pocket. Tom watched as the confused ARVN guard turned to his boss and took two rounds to the chest.

Tom drew the cathouse pistol and chambered a round as he brought it into a firing position and shot all six bullets into the ARVN captain. The small rounds moving at 750 feet per second did not have the desired effect. Quinn finished the job with a round from his M16 to Captain Lam’s head.

Quinn and Tom shared a look of disbelief. Eldridge remained seated, eyes wide in shock.

Tom slammed his hand on the roof of the cab, signaling Amiuh to stop.

The prisoner was obviously dead, as was the ARVN guard and Captain Lam.

He slid from behind the gun, and he and Quinn checked bodies.

“What the fuck?” Tom said.

“One of those spies we talked about,” Quinn said. “I give you the good Captain Lam. Son of a bitch.”

Tom picked up the rifle from the dead ARVN guard and checked its status.

“Eldridge,” Tom said.

The man from State remained silent.

“Eldridge!” Tom said again, grabbing his arm and shaking him out of his trance.

“Yeah, wa… what?” He shuddered.

“I need you to go up front and navigate. Nearest base.”

“What?”

“Nearest base. I need you to guide Amiuh there. Now!”

“Okay,” he said, slowly climbing down from the bed of the truck and making his way to the front of the vehicle.

Tom and Quinn looked at each other again.

“What a mess,” Quinn said.

“Yeah, NVA didn’t want this guy making it to the interrogation center. They were willing to burn Captain Lam here to keep him quiet.”

“He must have known something they didn’t want getting out.”

“And now we’ll never fucking know. Shit!”

“Sergeant Quinn.” Eldridge was back at the rear of the truck.

Thinking he might still be in shock, Quinn said, “We need you to navigate to the nearest base. Amiuh speaks good English. Just give him directions. Tom and I will take up security back here.”

“I can’t,” Eldridge responded.

“What? Why not?”

“Because Amiuh is dead.”