The Worth of Souls Page 4

  An RPG-2 impacted the forward gun turret on the F-Monitor. The gunner flew back, severely wounded. The weapon was rendered useless. The ammo was ignited but the ammo can it was in was quickly thrown overboard.

  In rapid succession, three mortars were fired from launchers on board the H-Monitor which was covering the now-damaged boat. Another RPG-2 whooshed overhead landing in the middle of the river. The F-boat let loose with an arching shower of napalm that ignited the late afternoon shadows with an orange and yellow, fiery rainbow of fire.

  The forward M-2 mount of the H-Monitor cut loose. The target was the warehouse. Again, the mortars fired. A fire erupted in the building as two more mortar rounds hit some sort of liquid fuel in the semi-demolished building.

  Four men carrying rifles ran from the rubble of the warehouse and headed for the street bazaar; two of the men were ablaze. The few civilians that could be seen, scattered, screaming and holding wounds sustained in the fighting or dodging from the hail of bullets and other flaming debris. Those wounded obviously came from the bazaar and not the warehouse; wounds sustained from enemy forces trying to influence the thinking of the locals.

  Spoke watched the activities with amazement as a kind of fire brigade attempted to address the flames which were 40-50 feet in the air by now. They were losing to the fire as those flames raged. The damage control on the Foxtrot Monitor that had been hit by the RPG was superb. Within a few minutes, even smoke from the small fire on-board had dissipated.

  A distress call was made for MEDIVAC to remove the wounded Navy gunner. That helo would be there in about 30-minutes. Air Force “fast flyers,” F-4 Phantoms from Udorn, Thailand, responded to the distress call to help ensure the safety of the crew and the helo. They would be there in about 12-minutes.

  Both boats awaited additional combat, but none came. The bitter smell of gunpowder, burning flesh and smoke from the burning warehouse formed an evil cloud-like aberration across the water. The jungle seemed to swallow up the disruption with calm understanding. After all, the jungle had always been there. These recent interlopers causing death and destruction were only short-termed aberrations.

  The locals on the shore continued to flee amidst gunfire from the insurgents and not from the U.S. troops.

  Apparently, this combat element of insurgents was a small group intent on hitting the waterfront and stealing from the Thai town. They saw a target of opportunity with the Monitors and attempted to take advantage of it. The premonitions of the U.S. commanders paid off again thus keeping their crews as safe as possible.

  The adage, “If it seems to be too good to be true, it is,” flashed across Spoke’s mind.

  Where the SEALS and Navy had viewed a great chance to wave the flag and share good will, death and destruction visited hell on the civilians of Phon Phisai. Was it any wonder that there was so much hatred and scorn toward the insurgents in Thailand and throughout Southeast Asia? It made sense to treat all people in Southeast Asia as friends until they chose to demonstrate ill will to them. No one in the United States would ever understand such feelings due to the concerted effort by the leftist controlled media and enemies of the state. These enemies in a far-off land only wanted to destroy the peaceful lives of an otherwise peaceful people here in Southeast Asia.

  Spoke felt sick at heart as he thought of the evil doled out by those who could not or would not allow people to live free. He reflected in a quick thought of his family and the internal torture he felt of a wife who seemed bent on destroying his children’s lives or her own destruction. Here he was fighting against the scourge of drugs and she was safe in the United States abusing them. Where was the justice in that?

  Suddenly, his mind seemed to be made up. Prior to returning to Vietnam, he had requested to retire from the military. After the intense and turbulent experience of a few minutes ago, he’d figure out a better way to address his problem. No, he would stay in the service as long as he could provide a positive contribution.

  During the night, under the cover of darkness, the two boats continued up-river. The pace was reduced only a knot or two since the damaged boat had been hit above the waterline and forward of the superstructure where the armor plating was extremely strong. Earlier versions of the craft learned the hard way about armor and its placement. The damaged boat determined just how fast they could travel. It was a significant credit to the manufacturers of the craft that so much damage could be sustained and yet continue with its mission. It was also a credit to the “Brown Water Navy” that the damage control and temporary repairs could be quickly done underway.

  Nighttime standard operating procedures (SOP) required boats traveling on the Mekong River to slow to less than 8-knots. Otherwise, obstacles such as trees and floating mines could ruin a day or night. This also meant the overall rate of advance would be slower and travel time would be much longer.

  As they progressed up-river, they rendezvoused with the helo to evacuate the injured sailor. Due to overhead obstacles along the shore, this took almost 30-minutes. Darkness was coming on fast and despite the almost perfect conditions, the time to evacuate the man seemed like it would last forever. The crews of both boats and the SEALS took station aboard the Monitors to keep a vigilant eye on the shoreline. Mines were a very real possibility. What it equated to was a sleepless night for everyone.

  By the next morning, there were extremely haggard looks on every sailor’s face. Three days of beard-growth didn’t help. Each man felt he’d been rode hard and put away wet. Perspiration and the natural smells of those unwashed bodies and clothes put a definite damper on the freshness quotient. There would not be anyone that would turn down a bath and massage if offered. There would also be no one that would not encourage their shipmates doing the same. Attitudes were stretched to the limits of endurance. Occasional small verbal spats broke out between the boat’s crewmen. They were well-trained on the job, but didn’t have the benefit of the extreme emotionally “draining training” and curriculum of the SEALS.

  Chapter 4

  Vientiane

  Arriving at Vientiane late in the morning, the two Monitors headed for the closest transient pier. Transient piers permitted boats to temporarily tie up while obtaining directions to a more convenient location for the Harbor Master to adjust and view other ships and boats in the harbor. Because the damaged boat was to be moored “starboard side to,” the crews could work on the damage to the hull without the prying eyes of those of the Pathet Lao sympathizers. Arranging the boats as they did permitted the undamaged boat to be “rafted” outboard of the first. “Starboard side to” meant the starboard side of the Foxtrot boat would be tied to the pier. “Rafted” meant that the other boat, in this case the undamaged Hotel boat, would be outside of the damaged boat which provided cover by using an overhead tarp rigged as an awning. This also permitted work to continue without the clear view of onlookers and as protection from the sporadic rain showers.

  Vientiane was considered a friendly port, but despite the platitudes provided by the State Department, a watchful eye was needed for both boats. Since one of the boats had damage, the other would cover the first. She had the duty to keep watch over the “friendly port” and her sister boat.

  Vientiane did have the benefit of bathing and massage establishments to permit the Navy sailors a chance to get feeling a bit better; a welcome relief to themselves and others around them. The SEALS, however, had to keep a schedule, so their opportunity would have to wait. They had miles to go before they slept.

  Their target was a large town north-northwest of Vientiane about 100 miles in the Luoang Namtha Province. Louang Namtha was the drop-off city and from there, the smaller highways, dirt roads and cart paths would lead them to the small village of Muong Namla where they would conduct operations. This was to be their base location.

  Louang Namtha could be reached by transport trucks and wheeled vehicles supplied by the CIA and State Department, but due to the terrain, and lack of runways, no aircraft. Muong Sing was near the vi
llage of Muong Diet. Muong Namla was 12 miles farther northwest on the border of Laos and China.

  The area was like the “Ol’ Wild West,” but with jungle and karst instead of cactus and tumbleweed. The villains were the drug lords and their law was the Law of Tooth and Fang. The terrain was punctuated by large vertical spires and extremely rugged ridge lines formed as underground water eroded the coarse volcanic soil. Known as karst, most of the karst in Southeast Asia could shred a pair of boots or shoes in just a matter of days. It was really just ground up volcanic glass and ash.

  Caves also dotted the terrain. From these caves, drug lords operated stashes for their products. Death could be meted out with hideouts for guards or troops. From the air, sink holes forced roads to have the circuitous appearance of a snake with a belly ache. A trip of 10 miles as the crow flies could take 15-17 miles as the road winds.

  The SEALS waited until late in the day before departing. At about 1700, three Toyota vans and an Isuzu truck arrived at the head of the pier. The SEALS moved ashore from the boats in twos and threes. Carrying their gear and weapons, they moved to the rear of the truck. Senior Chief LaMonde supervised the loading of the truck with individual and team equipment. After loading the truck, they climbed into one of the vans and while maintaining the appearance of orderly chaos, departed the head of the pier. No fanfare and certainly little, if any clues, that these men were headed to anywhere other than downtown for some well-deserved rest, a shower and some female company.

  Another truck appeared at the head of the pier loaded with materials and equipment. That truck disgorged materials for repairing the damaged Monitor. Once supplies were delivered to the boat, the non-duty sailors prepared to depart for approved liberty. They would be in a three section watch standing arrangement. That meant that while one group went to town, the other two worked on the damaged boat and kept guard over the stricken craft. After four hours, the groups rotated. By the next afternoon, all would have had liberty and depending on the repair status, liberty might be adjusted. It also prevented any drinking and driving. Sober was the rule.

  The SEALS headed downtown in their small convoy. Traffic was heavier than normal through Vientiane. Most of the traffic was made up of bicycles or mopeds. The Vientiane drivers and pedestrians recognized the “might makes right” mantra and got out of the way as the convoy came through. Many of the intersections were “roundabouts” like in Europe. The traffic never stopped. Farther away from downtown, the beautiful boulevards and paved streets showed the influence of the French. People hustled and bustled here and there; many with food in bags to take home for dinner.

  Like Saigon, Vientiane had markets and restaurants that offered a montage of smells from borderline wretched to divine. Colors of fabrics, signs and buildings caught the eye. It was an amazing experience. To the uninitiated, it was spell-binding. Since Spoke had returned from Hong Kong, this was not as amazing as it seemed to be to the newer members of the team.

  The vehicles continued to move toward the U.S. Embassy. The vehicles slowed and signaled their intention of entering the compound. The wrought iron gates were manned by U.S. Marines who checked identification cards. Even though this was a “friendly” nation, it still required a level of security from foreign enemy operatives.

  Spoke and Bee noted the grounds were well maintained. Large trees were well pruned and lawns well kept. The small flower gardens contained many of the local varieties of plants and flowers. It was similar to the U.S. Embassy in Saigon, except for fewer sandbagged machine gun emplacements. Both were white and had beautiful carved stone facades painted white. The American flag waved nobly on the flag pole atop the main office structure.

  The three vehicles headed toward the rear of the main office complex. Once in the shadows, the men unloaded from the Toyotas and assisted unloading the truck. Each man made sure all his equipment was accounted for. Only then did they go inside to meet the State Department dignitaries. They were invited to eat at the cafeteria. Believing they would not get American food again for a while, they ate heartily. Nothing was spoken about their operation or destination; not even among themselves.

  The briefing went smoothly. Their lead driver, Naiomi Lis, was from the larger town of Muong Sing and knew the roads and trails around Muong Namla. He could easily find his way even in the dark, he bragged. The other drivers smiled and kidded him. He did, however, have a good command of the American language and so was the lead driver.

  After meeting each driver, the SEALS retired to a separate room for a further briefing on the latest conditions around Muong Namla while the drivers saw to their vehicles including extra tires and fuel.

  The CIA agent in charge at the embassy delivered the briefing and provided Spoke and Bee maps and photos of both the area and their target; a large heroin growing and processing facility located in China. The area was controlled by both Chinese and the local War Lords. Chinese military units rarely ventured into the areas and then only with the permission of the local War Lord.

  Spoke wanted to feel out the CIA agent regarding information he’d obtained in Hong Kong about CIA drug activities. Were the SEALS only going to eliminate competitors to the CIA’s drug operations? Such a travesty would greatly diminish the credibility of any support the CIA would provide. This, too, was the dilemma of the team as they prepared to be in harm’s way. Were they only putting their lives on the line to preserve the CIA’s narcotics growing and peddling activities?

  The focus of the briefing was observed with Spoke’s attention aimed at details of the opposition. The area was near enough the Chinese border that the probability of contact remained high. Likewise, the drug lords had their own militias that could be just as fierce fighters as the Chinese military. Most of the Chinese People’s Liberation Army that were stationed here were being punished for infractions in their service. This was the last stop before being executed. That meant that good order and discipline was virtually non-existent with the Chinese but enforced with the gun.

  The land was dotted with sink holes, karst ridges and numerous caves located along those ridges. The CIA briefer stated flatly that all the caves could possibly be either drug stashes or paramilitary hides. Each was to be given the same deference as if they were all manned and ready to kill intruders. Because the caves were mostly elevated, the “high ground” was the enemy’s and the SEALS should treat it so.

  Upon completion of the briefing, Bee rose and thanked the CIA agent as well as the Ambassador’s staff for both an excellent meal and the help in getting their operation underway. Then he announced a departure of 2200. It would take most of the night and into the next day to travel the 150 miles. They wanted to be in Muong Namla by the following afternoon.

  Each man had two hours to get final preparations ready. Most were veterans of such operations and so rolled back on the floor with head on their gear and snoozed. A few of the team finished letters home and then snoozed as well.

  Bee, Swede and Spoke moved over to a corner of the room and quietly visited about the coming activities.

  Chapter 5

  The Hmong

  The village of Muong Namla seemed to materialize from the jungle as the small convoy came around one final turn in the narrow dirt trail. The buildings and houses appeared at first as ghosts and rose through the haze and mist of a medieval dream. One almost expected a dragon to fly overhead and breathe flame against the intruders.

  The haze was mostly due to the number of charcoal cooking fires. Because of the humidity, the veil of smoke draped like a net over the houses and outbuildings. The buildings looked simple and at first almost like a shanty town. Roofs appeared to be thatch with some of corrugated steel. Walls appeared to be plywood or the ubiquitous corrugated steel complete with rust patches and stains streaking them. Paint, such as it was, seemed a luxury rather than the norm.

  Streets were mostly rutted dirt and mud paths. The streets, while passable using caution, were not something one operated a vehicle on without using great attenti
on to detail. With children and small animals darting about, the ruts forced obedience to low gears and minimal speeds.

  The Hmong culture demanded an almost childlike simplicity in their approach to life. Mothers carried infants in chest slings or on their backs. Toddlers with dirty faces streaked by runny noses and tears moved about as other children teased and laughed, playing games of their own creation. Barefooted children mostly naked or with a few rags gathered about them darting in and out of buildings and across the roads. Individual modesty was not given a second thought, just like children everywhere. They ran about laughing and crying. This scene could have been anywhere on the planet. Still, it appeared here in a war-torn land filled with hatred, horrible sights and death; a simple island of peace in a sea of despair.

  For all to see, the people of the village were happy with their lot in life. Few appeared overly upset with the vehicles and foreigners entering their village. Some who recognized past visitors among the SEALS waved, pointed and laughed the mirth of common joy. Those who did not recognize anyone still gawked with interest and curiosity.

  Spoke watched three children playing a form of tag, laughing and teasing each other. His thoughts went immediately to his own three. They could have easily been a part of such a scene. He again felt the pangs of homesickness. He needed to be a part of their lives. Instead, he served a nation that was being whipped into a hate frenzy against its own military. All these men wanted to do was their jobs by protecting and ensuring tranquility in a land of a foreign, peaceful people far away. Yes, this was where he also belonged; helping others from the scourge of drugs, war and kidnapping. Hopefully by doing so he might even be directly or indirectly helping his own family far away.