Court Martial (11 page)

“Bru say there is an old sweet-potato field on the other side of this mountain that would be very good for airplanes to see.”

“You don’t sound too happy with that idea.” Arnason detected a slight hesitation in the Yard’s voice.

“NVA sometimes watch the field for American helicopters that leave American soldiers jump out and then fly away.”

Arnason figured he was referring to special recon teams of Special Forces men. “Do they think there are NVA watching the potato
field now?”

“Yes. There are two NVA soldiers watching from a corner of the field and they have a…” The interpreter held his hand to his
ear.

“Radio?” arnason guessed.

“No.”

“Telephone?”

“Yes!” The Sedang interpreter smiled.

“Do the Bru know exactly where the NVA are?”

The interpreter nodded.

“Good. Show me…” arnason tapped Woods’s shoulder and nodded for him to come with him. “The rest of you stay here and wait
for us to come back.”

“Where are you going?” Warner whispered.

“To check out the drop zone.” Arnason pointed at a thick grove of young mahogany trees. “Wait there for us.”

One of the Bru warriors guidedarnason and Woods to the far side of the large sweet-potato field that was overgrown with elephant
grass and clumps of sweet potatoes growing wild. The sound of wild pigs rooting in the field echoed across the open ground
to the Americans. The Bru warrior paused and then pointed to a dark corner of the field that was surrounded by thick jungle.arnason
guessed that was where the NVA had their observation post. He nodded and pointed, indicating that he wanted to go there. The
Bru warrior grinned and started moving slowly in that direction around the edge of the field. Pig runs were cut from the jungle
to the field every few meters, and for the better part of the way the three of them could use the narrow paths to walk on
and not have to break through the thick bamboo and grass surrounding the field.

It took them over two hours to circumvent the field, and they nearly stepped out into the open before the Montagnard grabbedarnason
and stopped him. A soft sound of a hammock creaking caught Woods’s ear and he lowered himself to the ground. The roof of an
old longhouse stuck up above the tall grass. The NVA scouts were using the old abandoned Montagnard village as their observation
site. Arnason wished that he had kept his knife until after the mission was over. He had to rely on his silenced .22 caliber
pistol. Woods removed his pistol from its holster. The Montagnards had said that there were two men on guard.

Arnason started moving forward slowly and the Yard stopped him again and pointed to his right. The Bru was obviously familiar
with the old village. He took the lead and skirted around the buildings so that they approached the last longhouse next to
the jungle from a line in the shadows of the tall jungle trees.

Woods heard the NVA snoring before he saw him sleeping in the hammock. The second NVA soldier couldn’t be seen.arnason and
Woods waited and listened.

A voice came from inside the hooch. The repetition of the same phrase toldarnason that the second NVA was talking to someone
over the telephone and there was a bad connection.

Wood slipped the safety off his pistol and covered the sleeping NVA in the hammock whilearnason went around the hooch and
located a window with the bamboo mat shutter propped open by a bamboo pole.arnason didn’t hesitate when he saw the back of
the NVA soldier’s head through the window. He fired. The small .22 caliber round penetrated the back of the soldier’s head.
The telephone dropped to the floor.

The NVA in the hammock raised his head and looked into the dark doorway of the hooch. He spoke and waited for a response.
A jungle bird called to its mate, filling the silence. The soldier reached over for his SKS rifle and dropped his feet to
the ground out of his hammock. Woods’s pistol hissed and the NVA soldier dropped back in the hammock, dead.

Arnason stepped around the side of the building and up onto the porch. “Keep a lookout for any other gooks....” He slipped
through the doorway into the dark room. The NVA telephone operator lay slumped over his makeshift desk. Cooking utensils hung
from pegs in the bamboo support poles along the wall.arnason noticed that there were only two bedrolls on the floor and one
AK-47 leaning next to the desk. He was sure that there had been only two guards.

“It’s clear outside,” Woods whispered from the doorway.

Arnason held his finger to his lips and pointed at the telephone receiver dangling from its cord. He stepped back out into
the light and walked a couple of meters away from the building before talking. “Let’s get back and call in the air drop. I
don’t know how much time we have before they send someone out here to check the guards or fix the telephone line.”

Woods nodded.

The Montagnard party waited around the perimeter of the sweet-potato field, camouflaged perfectly by the jungle. A small group
of Bru warriors covered the trail that led to the old village from the NVA base area farther west. It had taken only an hour
to assemble the Bru for the air drop and the flight time from the American base was less than thirty minutes. The sound of
the small FAC aircraft passed over the potato field and banked to the south where the L-19 pilot flew in a racetrack pattern
and guided in the large C-130 aircraft for the air drop.

Woods watched the large pallets hit the ground in the tall grass of the potato field. A small herd of wild pigs squealed and
raced off for cover in the jungle.

Koski was the first one out on the field and hacked through the nylon retainer straps with his machete. The pallets had been
assembled with a dozen man-sized loads on each one. The riggers were good at what they did. Koski handed a pack to each of
the Bru warriors, and it took only a couple of seconds for one of the Americans to make minor adjustments on each of the backpack
straps before the warriors disappeared into the jungle with the supplies.

Arnason was impressed with the efficiency of the Bru warriors. It had taken them less than twenty minutes to clear the drop
zone of the supplies and hide the parachutes in the jungle.

The crack of a rifle alerted the team that the Bru guarding the trail from the NVA base area had made contact with an enemy
force. Within seconds the jungle erupted with small-arms fire and RPG rounds exploding against trees. The Bru fought the NVA
only long enough to give the DZ party time to escape, and then they melted away in the jungle. The NVA commander found his
trail watchers dead and he had nothing to show for his efforts.

The Bru moved fast through the jungle. Warner noticed that they were taking trails around the hidden village and heading toward
a mass of rocks that jutted up from the jungle floor over a thousand meters into the air. The rocks were laced with caves
that were almost impossible to locate unless you had a division of men and months to search.

The Bru chieftain was waiting just inside a cave entrance forarnason and his recon team. He used the interpreter to thank
them for the supplies and then he told the Sedang that the Americans would have to go back to South Vietnam. The rest of the
caves were secret and the Bru would not risk showing them to any outsiders.

Arnason understood. He smiled and waved goodbye to the Bru chief. He was glad that he could move his team out of the area
now that the NVA had been alerted and were starting to search the jungle. If they stayed in the caves for another day, they
would be trapped there for at least a couple of weeks until the area cooled off.

Warner looked at the map andarnason shot a direction with his compass. They both agreed on their location and Warner took
a couple of minutes to orient himself before taking the point for the recon team. They would have to move fast. Right before
they left, a pair of Bru warriors approached the interpreter and told him that they would guide the team to the border. The
Bru realized even more than the Americans did that speed was very important if the Americans were going to escape the closing
NVA circle around the area.

The small recon team moved quickly through the jungle. Too fast for Woods andarnason, but they figured the Bru warriors knew
where they were going and he was sure that the old chief wouldn’t let their guides move so fast unless the trail was safe
and protected by Bru scouts. They came to the edge of the river that divided Laos from South Vietnam before nightfall and
thanked their guides before they left. It would be a short wait until it was dark enough to cross the river and make it to
the abandoned fire-support base that was their pickup site.

Arnason leaned back against his pack and spun the Montagnard bracelet around his wrist. He figured there had to be at least
three ounces of pure gold in the band, but the artwork was fantastic, especially for the Montagnards, who were a practical
people and didn’t waste time on detailed carvings.

Woods slipped over next to the team leader and smiled. He pointed at his bracelet and nodded. Arnason frowned and leaned forward
so Woods could whisper in his ear. “Good trade… huh?”

Arnason smiled and agreed with his assistant team leader. It has been a very good mission and the knife for the gold band
was a good trade. Just how good a deal it was would be proved in the months to come.

Captain Youngbloode sat on the hood of his jeep and watched the helicopter grow in the sky as it flew in from the west. He
wore a very worried expression on his face. He was quite happy that the whole team had made it back safely from the high-risk
mission, but it was the briefing he had received from the division’s intelligence officers and the CIA agent that caused the
deep furrows across his brow. He had never met Specialist Mohammed James, but he had read the reports and was disgusted with
the man’s conduct. James had set the American black soldier back a hundred years with his conduct, and Youngbloode had agreed
that if what James was suspected of doing got out to the line troops in Vietnam, there would be rioting and the outcome of
the war would be in severe jeopardy.

Youngbloode pressed his lips tightly together. He was angry. Guys like James screwed it up every time and had done so since
the Civil War. The Youngbloodes were a proud black family and had done their share in America, but now it was time to move
on, back to the old country, and rebuild from there.

The chopper touched down on the pad.arnason could see the grim expression on his company commander’s face and instantly became
worried. The captain usually was smiling when a team came back from the field in one piece. Something was bothering him.

Woods waited until they had cleared the helicopter before talking to Arnason. “What’s wrong with the captain?”

“I don’t know.” Arnason’s voice reflected his worry. “I hope it isn’t something we’ve done.” Arnason’s thoughts were on their
recent mission. He was hoping that the NVA hadn’t found the Bru village and wiped it out.

Arnason saluted the captain and smiled. “It’s nice to be back, sir.”

Youngbloode nodded and returned the salute. “I’m glad it went so well.”

“Perfect! The Bru have the supplies and they made the whole team Bru tribesmen!” arnason added, “Thanks to Spencer Barnett.”

Youngbloode nodded. “Speaking of Corporal Barnett…”

Woods’s face turned white and he looked over at Arnason, who instantly became worried.

“Nothing’s wrong with him?” arnason asked.

“No… no, he’s doing fine.” Youngbloode took a deep breath and looked his sergeant directly in the eyes. “It’s James… they’re
going to court-martial him.”

“I expected as much,” arnason stated.

“Back at Fort Bragg…” Youngbloode forced a smile. o “You and Sergeant Woods are being called back as witnesses.”

“Us?” arnason was shocked. “Going back to the States?” It had been years since he had been back to the States.

“Yes… you’ll be leaving this afternoon by Lear jet to Saigon and then by special aircraft to California,” Youngbloode explained.
“They’ll brief you on the way down to Saigon. Right now, get your gear turned in to the supply room.”

“I can’t go.... What about the rest of my team?” arnason was groping for an excuse to stay in Vietnam.

“They’re being sent to Australia on R and R for a week… courtesy of the CIA.” Youngbloode glanced over at the three men.

Sanchez slapped Warner’s shoulder. “Yeah!”

“Shower and change uniforms… you have an hour.” Youngbloode slid onto the front seat of his jeep and waved for his driver
to leave. “That’s an order, Sergeant!”

“Yes sir.” Arnason’s shoulders drooped. He didn’t want to go back to the States. He had been in Vietnam over four years straight
and had sworn that he wouldn’t leave until the war was over.

“Come on, Sarge! It’s not that bad back there in the land of the big PX!” Woods tried cheering up his team leader.

“Shut up, Woods!”
Arnason broke away from his number two man.
“Just shut the fuck up!”
He started running toward the fighting bunker that RT Bad News used for a team hooch.

“What’s that all about?” Warner asked, shrugging.

“It’s a long story.” Woods watched his leader
run
across the open red-dust clearing and disappear into the black opening.

War had a way of fucking up a man’s mind.

He sat on the top railing of the old split-rail fence and watched the red-tailed hawk disappear into the meadow carpeted with
Queen Anne’s lace and islands of yellow and orange hawkweed. The bird of prey lifted up off the ground after hopping a half-dozen
steps. A young first-litter rabbit hung from one of the bird’s talons and kicked its hind legs in a futile attempt to free
itself from the death grip.

Spencer Barnett watched the bloody, early morning scene with a tinge of sadness. Death seemed to haunt the earth; something
always had to die to make room for something new. The thought bothered him. He inhaled a deep lungful of moist mountain air
and smelled the sweet scent of honeysuckle from a nearby vine. A thick mist rolled over the meadow from its hiding place in
the Christmas-tree forest that bordered the south slope of the meadow. The large stand of pine and blue spruce had been planted
over fifty years earlier by one of the original settlers in the valley and had grown wild.