Page 31 of Cry Havoc (Tom Reece #1)

Saigon, Vietnam

“Attention!” Quinn said, seeing the colonel step through the threshold.

Quinn and Tom sprang to attention from their seats.

“Keep your seats, gentlemen,” the colonel said, closing the door behind him.

The men remained standing, each taking the outstretched hand of the legendary Chief SOG.

Closing in on fifty, Colonel John K. “Jack” Singlaub looked as fit as he must have been in his days with the Office of Strategic Services, parachuting into Nazi-occupied France in August 1944.

His short-sleeve khaki uniform was absent ribbons but still displayed his name tag, Combat Infantryman and Master Parachutist badges, ARVN jump wings, and Ranger Tab.

The silver eagle on his collar denoted his rank.

Singlaub had been involved in U.S. special operations from their modern inception: OSS, SSU, Central Intelligence Group, and the CIA.

Jack Singlaub was royalty in commando circles and Tom had no doubt the colonel was on track to one day be chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff or secretary of defense.

Though not much over five and a half feet tall, Colonel Singlaub projected authority.

His hair was cut high and tight. His face retained the vitality of his youth, his eyes sharp and piercing.

A hunter’s eyes, Tom thought.

Tom and Quinn had pulled Amiuh’s body from behind the driver’s seat just over an hour earlier and placed him in the bed of the gun truck.

He had been shot twice through the side as they extracted Quinn’s element from the ambush site and had bled out behind the wheel getting his teammates out of harm’s way.

Quinn had removed the Seiko watch from Amiuh’s wrist and handed it to Tom.

He had taken the tough Montagnard’s rosary beads from his pocket and held the Croix de Lorraine in his hands as he said a prayer for their fallen teammate.

He had then placed the rosary in his own pocket.

Then with Tom behind the wheel sitting in the blood of his friend, and with Eldridge navigating, they had driven to the U.S. Army’s 17th Field Hospital in Saigon.

Quinn called MACV-SOG headquarters from the infirmary to report in and was told that Colonel Singlaub was coming to meet them at the hospital. The embassy had sent a car for Eldridge after he had been cleared by the doctors. He had departed to clean up and check in with the ambassador.

“Sergeant Quinn. Petty Officer Reece. Glad to see you are in one piece. I want to tell you how sorry I am about Amiuh,” Colonel Singlaub said. His tone was even and firm. This was an officer who truly cared for the men he led. “What village was he from?”

“He was of the Banhar. One of the Boute. His village is in the jungle west of Kontum,” Quinn said.

“I know that village. SF has had a long relationship with the Boute and their tribes.”

“I recruited him when I was at Project Delta. I’d like to make the notification.”

“Of course, son. We’ll get you up there.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“It’s good to see you again,” the colonel said.

“You too, sir. Been about a year.”

“Bien Hoa?”

“Yes, sir. Bearcat air base.”

“I won’t forget that day.”

“What happened?” Tom asked.

“I’ll tell you,” said Quinn. “An Air Force colonel was dragging his feet on testing out the new Fulton Recovery System.”

“The miniature blimp extraction?”

“That’s the one,” Quinn confirmed. “You wear a harness that’s connected to a balloon you inflate with helium canisters. A specially configured C-130 equipped with a V-jaw snare on the nose then hits the line and snatches you up and winches you into the back.”

“Sounds terrible.”

“I agree. A little over a year ago, an Air Force colonel wouldn’t approve it for testing, so Colonel Singlaub went down to volunteer. Do I have that right, sir?”

“You do,” Singlaub replied. “I reminded the colonel that we were fighting a war against a tenacious enemy, and we had to explore any possible way to recover key agents, downed pilots, or SOG members from behind enemy lines. I wouldn’t ask any men under my command to do something dangerous that I wasn’t willing to do first.”

“How did it go?” Tom asked.

“The new nylon cord absorbed much of the whiplash prevalent with earlier systems. The pilot was supposed to fly out over the South China Sea, but he banked left and flew over the war zone with me dangling behind at less than a thousand feet. I thought the Viet Cong were going to use me for target practice.”

“Well, I guess it worked,” Tom said.

“It did. After doing this job a moon or two, I’ve found that it’s advantageous to just concentrate on the physical things you must do rather than worry about what can get you killed.” The colonel paused. “Now, let’s sit down and you can tell me what happened out there today.”

The three men took seats in the small waiting room.

“We were targeted, sir,” Quinn began. “No doubt about it. Diverted into a channelized area. Front and rear blocked with a bus and a cement mixer. At least two recoilless rifles. SKSs and AKs. We were hit from the front and the rear but managed to break contact. That was when Captain Lam executed our prisoner and one of his own ARVN guards. Amiuh was hit driving the gun truck and getting us out of there. Saved our lives.”

“And Eldridge?”

“He’s fine, sir. A little shaken up. He already left for the embassy.”

“I’ll touch base with the ambassador. Eldridge is a foreign service officer who serves as the liaison between us, the Special Technical Directorate, and State. I think that was his first taste of combat.”

“Permission to speak freely, sir?” Tom asked.

Singlaub nodded.

“Someone set us up. There’s a mole somewhere in this outfit.”

“I know.”

“You know?”

“We are losing too many people, too many teams being ambushed across the fence, specifically in Laos, but in Cambodia too, and now this. I’m going to work with the Agency on tracking down all of Captain Lam’s known associates.

Just because he’s dead doesn’t mean the leak is plugged.

The same network could have another, even several, assets at various headquarters in Saigon.

In fact, there are probably multiple disassociated networks reporting to multiple countries—North Vietnam, China, the Soviets.

What I can tell you is this, men, you will get all my efforts to track these networks down.

Then we arrest them, turn them, or execute them. ”

“Sir, this is a little outside my wheelhouse, but I’d like a list of everyone at the embassy, at South Vietnamese HQ, and even MACV and MACV-SOG who knew we were coming in today.”

Singlaub leaned back in his chair.

“Petty Officer Reece, I appreciate the resolve, but you will be on a helo to Kontum soon and then be back at Phu Bai to continue missions.”

“I’d still like the list, sir.”

Singlaub nodded slowly, thoughtfully considering his options.

“I’ll be working with the Agency on this, and when we have a report or something more concrete, I’ll make sure you see it.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“In the meantime, if you need anything, you reach out to my office. Stay at House Ten,” he said, referring to the MACV-SOG safe house in Saigon. “My XO will be in contact about travel to Amiuh’s village. We’ll make arrangements and get it worked out for you.”

“Good copy, sir.”

“And, in case you get into trouble.” Singlaub produced two cards just slightly larger than business cards and handed them to the two SOG operators. Their photos were in the upper-right-hand corners. The card read:

Republic of Vietnam

Saigon

The bearer whose photo appears on this card is assigned to a special mission force of this command.

All military and civilian agencies are requested to assist in the accomplishment of assigned mission.

The bearer is authorized to wear military or civilian clothing, carry a concealed weapon, perform duties after curfew, and enter out of bounds areas.

It was signed by Colonel John K. “Jack” Singlaub.

The opposite side was the same copy in Vietnamese.

“You never know,” Tom said.

“We work hand in hand with the Agency here. CIA wants a debrief on Captain Lam. Nick Serrano is taking lead. We worked together in Korea. He’s a pro. You can hit House Ten first or I can drop you at the Agency annex. It’s not far from SOG HQ.”

Tom and Quinn shared a glance.

“No sense waiting if something we know could help expose whatever network Lam was a part of,” Quinn said. “We’ll go with you, sir.”

“So be it. And for what it’s worth, I’m proud of you. You did right by SOG and the country today.”

“Doesn’t feel that way, sir. We lost a good teammate, a good man,” Quinn said, pulling the Croix de Lorraine rosary from his pocket. “Amiuh carried this with him on every mission. Maybe one day this country will know some peace.”

“Maybe,” Singlaub said. “One day.”

Quinn slid the rosary back in his pocket.

One day.