Page 64 of Cry Havoc (Tom Reece #1)

THEY WERE HEADED FOR the Trail—the Ho Chi Minh Trail.

Tom checked the Waltham compass on his watch strap. North.

They would hit the supply route and continue north, farther into Laos, perhaps into North Vietnam.

Wherever they eventually stopped would most certainly be outside the operational boxes in which MACV-SOG was authorized to operate.

Thanks to whomever was passing Hanoi intel from Saigon, the NVA and Pathet Lao probably knew the constraints of the operational boxes in Laos better than some in SOG.

If their destination were indeed outside the operational zone, their only chance was for Tom to plot it and get back to Phu Bai.

He prayed that Lieutenant Colonel Backhaus had enough political capital built up, from his years of distinguished service, that he would risk a court-martial and authorize a rescue mission for his men without the approval of higher-ups in Saigon.

If he made it back to Phu Bai alive, Tom was prepared to make an extremely convincing case.

And if it fell on deaf ears, he was already thinking of how he might pull it off by going rogue.

You are getting ahead of yourself, Tom.

Stay on the spoor and plot their final location. Then deal with getting back to Phu Bai.

Prioritize.

Tom also knew that, just like MACV-SOG units, the NVA would have a rear security element. He hoped they would be a little less alert, believing that they were the only ones in the jungle.

Remember what they told you in BUD/S: hope is not a course of action.

Do what you know how to do: cut sign and stay on the track.

How much of a head start did they have? Had they hit the trail before nightfall and pushed onward?

Or had they set up in the jungle near the crash site and then patrolled on in the morning?

Tom would know soon. The sign would tell him.

And it did.

They had gone for the Trail.

Tom pulled out his map and made a notation of the helo crash site and the location of where the enemy tracks hit the Ho Chi Minh Trail.

Those tracks continued north. The trail would allow them to move quickly. Tom knew from his map study that he was about to leave the SOG operational area.

Now, did he stay off the trail and slog through the jungle? Or did he risk it and use the trail to make better time?

Stay off the trail. You know to stay off the trails, especially this one.

“Trail” was a bit of a misnomer. Though it had started as a centuries-old networked system of dirt footpaths weaving through the mountains and rainforests connecting villages for trading purposes, it was expanded rapidly by the Viet Minh during the First Indochina War and had continued to expand over the course of the war against the Americans.

Parts of the trail were still dirt footpaths, while others were paved to support the movement of heavy trucks and machinery south.

It was hidden from aerial reconnaissance by the thick triple canopy and an additional intricate layered camouflage netting and bamboo trellis system.

As it was mid-May, the dry season was giving way to the southwest monsoon season, a time when the dirt sections of the trail would be more difficult to travel, especially for trucks.

This particular section was not yet wide enough to support anything much larger than a small jeep.

With the rain coming, perhaps traffic south would have slowed.

This segment of the trail is at the edge of your operational box. No one in SOG knows what’s just to the north.

If you take the trail looking like an American, you are a dead man.

If the rains come and wash away the spoor, you will lose them. That decision will sentence Quinn and Hiep to death or years of imprisonment in North Vietnam.

Think, Tom.

His answer came in the form of two men on bicycles. They rounded the corner ahead traveling south.

Could they be a point element?

It did not appear so. They were both clad in black clothing and had slung AKs and beige chest rigs along with slung green canvas satchels.

They wore black boonie hats now faded gray by the sun.

One had a green-and-white-checkered cravat around his neck, while the other had one of brown.

They were chatting as they pedaled south as though they hadn’t a care in the world.

Viet Cong? Tom had read reports of VC operating in Laos, using the trail to move supplies to their units in the South, but had not yet encountered any, though he had extensive experience fighting them in the Mekong Delta.

Were they prepping for another Tet-type offensive as Gaston had predicted? Or were they NVA? It was hard to tell.

Let them pass.

Instead, Tom raised the pistol.