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Authors: Donald E. Zlotnik

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BOOK: Black Market
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Youngbloode flexed his jaws when he realized that as he thought about West Point, he had been sorting out the graduates in
the room from the ROTC types and the hated OCS officers. His eyes locked with those of a captain who had graduated from his
class. The captain smiled as if he was still the team quarterback getting ready to leave the locker room after a pep talk
from the coach. Youngbloode nodded his head but didn’t smile back. He suspected that the captain was the one who had sent
the article about “Black Tiger” to the West Point alumni newsletter. He was sure he had been branded with the title for life
after the article came out.

The brigade commander turned on the raised podium and faced the assembled group. He wore a grim expression on his face and
held the wooden pointer in front of him. “Gentlemen, it isn’t often that I have the chance to see all of you assembled together
at the same time. War precludes our gathering together even socially…”

Youngbloode felt a smile coming on and fought to control it. The brigade commander didn’t have any trouble assembling the
West Point graduates for a social hour during war.

“… but it was absolutely necessary that I assemble all of you together for at least a morning so that you can be briefed by
my staff on our upcoming mission…” He tapped the map with his pointer. All eyes in the room followed the tip of the wooden
stick as it slipped up over the map and stopped when it reached the Khe Sanh Plateau. The room was quiet and more than a few
low sighs could be heard. The colonel smiled and continued, “As you all know, the Khe Sanh area has been a pain in the ass
to the Marines since they were assigned there. They have suffered huge numbers of casualties,
but
”—the colonel frowned and scanned his officers—“Marines don’t know how to fight a guerrilla war like we do. Marines are specialized
at taking beaches, not fighting an elusive enemy…”

All eyes in the room, with the exception of the colonel’s, looked at the two Marine liaison officers that had been assigned
to the brigade from the First Marine Division. Youngbloode was impressed; the Marines maintained their composure well.

“Our brigade has been assigned the mission of opening Highway 9 from Vandergrift to the old French fort … here.” He tapped
the map after locating the fort. “We have been assigned the task of providing security for the Marines until they can build
a base near the old village of Khe Sanh … here.” He tapped the map again and turned to face the officers. “Youngbloode?” The
colonel searched the crowd for his recon company commander.

“Here sir.” Youngbloode raised his arm so the colonel could locate him.

“Ah! There you are, hiding in the back of the room …
our
Black Tiger!”

Youngbloode felt his face getting very warm.

“Your recon company is going to be very busy! You have been assigned the AO to the far west side of the plateau. We plan on
using your teams as an early warning system for the rest of the brigade. We need to know as soon as possible when large NVA
units cross the river that divides Laos from South Vietnam.” He followed the winding course of the river with the tip of his
pointer and stopped when he reached an area in Laos directly across from the Khe Sanh Plateau. “This area is going to be especially
difficult for us: Co Roc Mountains in Laos.” The colonel looked from the map over to Youngbloode. “I don’t need to tell you
that what I’m going to say next is
top secret
. We have select Special Forces teams already over there reconnoitering that area. We think the NVA have a battery of 152mm
artillery set up on the reverse slope of that mountain.” He continued staring at Youngbloode. “Our recon company will be stretched
out along the basic route of the river from here … to here.”

Captain Youngbloode held his breath. He was being given a strip of land 15,000 meters long! It would take every single man
he had in the company, plus his clerks, to establish a river watch over that much territory.

“Of course, you’ll have some help in this assignment from the Marine Force Recon Company…”

Youngbloode sighed and the men in the room started laughing, not at him but with him. They had all realized that the strip
of land was impossible for a small recon company to handle.

“Thank you sir!” Youngbloode’s comment broke the tension even further and the officers laughed harder.

The brigade commander raised his hands and brought the group back under control. “This is not going to be fun and games, gentlemen,
but a real nasty assignment that we must not take lightly!” The colonel aimed his pointer at Youngbloode. “You can be excused
from the rest of this briefing to inform your men. Your company will leave in the morning for LZ Stud near the Marine base
at Vandergrift and then be deployed a few days ahead of the brigade.”

Youngbloode saluted the colonel and left the bunker, followed by the gray-haired staff officer. The air smelled good after
the condensed cigar smoke in the bunker. Youngbloode wondered why battalion commanders thought it was necessary to smoke cigars
in combat. Maybe it was because of all the World War II movies.

“Here’s your op orders, Captain.” The gray-haired officer always referred to West Pointers by rank if they were subordinate
to him or his peer. He had been passed over three times and knew that when he left Vietnam after this tour of duty, he would
be released from active duty. He had won five Purple Hearts and a dozen valor awards, but at the same time he had received
an Article 15, which was a kiss of death to a career officer.

“Call me Yakub.” Youngbloode respected the senior captain.

“I’d rather not … save the friendly shit for your
classmates
.” The captain stared directly in Youngbloode’s eyes. “Here.” He held out the packet. “It’s complete, including your points
of contact at Vandergrift and the Marine frequencies and call signs.”

“Thanks … Hey, it’s not my fault you got an Article 15.” Youngbloode’s feelings had been hurt.

“No, but it is your classmates’ fault, and I’ve learned not to trust
any
of you.” The gray-haired captain walked away.

Youngbloode shook his head. The officer was bitter. He understood why the man was angry, but he was too bitter and it would
destroy him.

“Well, sir … where are we going this time?” The first sergeant had been waiting for him outside the bunker. He had already
talked with the brigade sergeant major and knew that the command was going to Khe Sanh.

Youngbloode smiled. “Not out here, Top. Let’s get back to the company.”

RT Bad News was playing a game of tackle football out behind their fighting bunker, using a sandag stuffed with empty sandbags
for a football. A recon team from the first platoon had challenged them to a championship game, and the score was close, with
the other team six points ahead.

Warner intercepted a pass and tried dodging around a pair of blockers. He ended up flat on his back, looking up into the bright
blue sky filled with blinking stars.

“You all right?” Koski pulled him to his feet.

The stars increased and he felt like throwing up. “Fuck! I’ve been clipped!”

“Fuck you, Warner! That was a clean tackle. You just need some weight on your ass!” The sergeant from the challenging team
yelled loud enough so everyone could hear him.

“Weight! You want to see some fucking
weight
against your mouth!” Warner tried jumping on the NCO but Koski caught him in the crook of his arm and held him back. The
scene would have been funny if it hadn’t been for the warning look on Koski’s face.

“Break it up!” The company first sergeant stood near the hooches and yelled out across the open area. “The captain wants all
recon team leaders over at the orderly room, ASAP!”

Warner relaxed and Koski let him go. They had all been waiting for the orders to filter down to the units. A big operation
had been in the rumor mill for weeks and it had finally come.

Arnason left the team and slipped on his shirt before catching up to the NCOs. He figured that it must be a big operation
if all the recon team leaders were being called in for the briefing. The first sergeant gave Arnason a serious look when he
caught up to them. “That boy has a temper!”

“He’s good in the field and that’s what counts.” Arnason brushed off the first sergeant’s comment.

“I ain’t having some damn private talking to one of my NCOs like that … You’d better tell him to clean it up!”

Arnason nodded and let the issue drop. Warner did have a temper, but he was too good a soldier to lose over NCO politics.
The sergeant who Warner had snapped back at hadn’t been out on a mission in over four months and wasn’t respected by very
many of the troops.

Koski watched Arnason turn the comer of a hooch with the rest of the NCOs and then turned to Warner. “Come on, let’s get a
shower in before they get back. I’ve got a feeling that it’s going to be awhile before we get the chance again.”

“That sounds like a good idea.” Woods pulled a towel off the drying rack behind the bunker and threw it around his neck. He
cupped his hands around his mouth and called over to the guard on the next bunker. “Cover us! We’re going over to the quartermaster
showers!” The guard waved back. His team owed them a couple of hours.

Sanchez walked next to Woods and kicked up small clouds of red dust with the toes of his boots. “Where do you think they’re
going to send the brigade?”

“Who cares … all our missions are basically the same—recon and leave.”

“I got a bad feeling about this one.” Sanchez lowered his voice but Koski and Warner could still hear him.

“Wo-ho! Stop that kind of talk right now!” Warner pulled his black cap down over his eyes and threw a fake punch at Sanchez.

“Say, Woods, I was wondering…” Sanchez’s voice got serious.

“About what?” Woods slowed his stride down a little so Sanchez could catch up to him. The teammates walked four abreast toward
the large quartermaster shower unit.

“What did Captain Youngbloode whisper in your ear when the South Vietnamese general gave you that medal?”

Woods’s face turned red. He had hoped no one had seen that exchange at the ceremony.

“Nothing important…”

“Come on, man, you can tell us!” Sanchez nudged his sergeant. He knew it must have been something very personal, because Woods
had blushed then too.

“Come on, Sarge!” Warner piped in and started pressuring Woods.

“All right! I’ll tell you guys, but it’s got to stay in the team!” Woods looked at each one of the men and waited until they
nodded their agreement before he continued. “He said he was jealous.”

“That’s it?” Sanchez held his hands out, palms up. “That’s it?”

“Yep … but I thought he was acting big about it. I mean, a lot of people get jealous over things but aren’t big enough to
say so.” Woods smiled. “I respect him for saying it.”

“Yeah … so do I.” Sanchez gave it some thought and added, “It does take guts to tell someone that you’re jealous of them.”

Warner turned and faced Koski. “See! You big Polack! You’re not man enough to say that you’re jealous of me!”

Koski tried kicking out at the quicker Warner, took a couple of giant steps toward him, and tried again. “I’m going to kick
your skinny little ass, that’s what I’m going to do!”

Woods watched his teammates grab ass and smiled; they were good men and one of the best recon teams in Vietnam.

The NCO meeting was short and Arnason was headed back to his fighting bunker with a grim expression locked on his face. He
didn’t like what the captain had said, but it made good sense and he was forced to agree with the logic. If he had had his
choice, he would not have allowed the operations sergeant to divide his team up.

The laughter preceded the men into the bunker. Arnason sat on one of the wooden ammunition crates sharpening his knife. Koski
was the first one to enter the structure and immediately sensed that something heavy was in the air. He saw the grim expression
on Arnason’s face and went over to his bunk to put his shaving gear and shampoo away. The bunker became quiet as the team
assembled around their leader and waited for him to start briefing them on the upcoming operation.

Arnason looked at each one of their faces before making his opening comment. “I’m not going to try and bullshit any of you.
It’s bad.”

Warner sighed.

“First the bad news for RT Bad News: They’re going to break up the team for this mission.” He didn’t wait for any of their
comments and went right on to get it over with. “David, you and Sanchez are going to be attached to Sergeant Welburg’s team…”

“Shit!” Sanchez hissed the word out between clenched teeth.

“… They were going to put you with him alone”—Arnason looked from Sanchez over to Woods—“but I told them that David was going
along.”

Woods nodded his head in agreement with Arnason’s decision, which made the team leader feel a lot better. He had promised
the men that they would never be split up, and he had been forced to go back on his word.

“I don’t have to tell you about Welburg. His reputation is so damn bad that no one wants to work with him, and because he
can’t keep a team together longer than a couple of weeks, he hasn’t pulled a
real
mission in months…”

“The man is fucking incompetent!” Sanchez saw the look on Arnason’s face that said he agreed with his comment and added, “and
a fucking alcoholic redneck motherfucker!”

“Easy on the heavy words.” Arnason agreed with everything Sanchez had said, but the man was still a staff sergeant in the
United States Army. “That’s why I convinced the captain to let Woods go with you.”

Arnason spread open his battle map on the small table and adjusted the light so that all the men could see where he was pointing
with the tip of his knife. “We’re going to be lined up as observer detachments along the Xe Pong River, which separates Laos
from South Vietnam.” Arnason looked up but the team remained very quiet. They didn’t have to be told twice the danger that
they were going to be in. “Like I said, this mission is going to be
bad news
for us. Even the captain realizes that the NVA will see what the brigade is doing when we’re inserted, and kick our asses.
He figures that we’ll have between two and four hours after insertion before they start hunting us down. The idea is to locate
them and call in artillery and air strikes. The infantry companies are going to be deployed behind us and will tackle the
larger NVA units as they appear. Now … and this is between you guys and me!” Arnason tapped the map hard with his knife, leaving
a bunch of pinpricks in the pliable plastic cover. His voice took on a very serious tone, and all of the team members looked
up from the map to his face. “Our mission is to locate the NVA and try
not
to engage them with small arms but blow their shit away with artillery and air strikes …
I’m
the
only
team leader that agreed with the captain … I think it will work if we don’t lose our cool.
The NVA are not fucking invincible in the jungle!
” Arnason’s eyes narrowed to tiny slits as he growled out the next sentence, sending shivers down his men’s backs. “
We
are.”

BOOK: Black Market
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