Natural Forces

By Douglas Menning

Returning home from the war in Vietnam should be a relief. But when the dangers of the present are fuelled by the ghosts of the past, a decorated soldier finds himself in an entirely new battleground on American soil where the enemy is even harder to fight than the most ruthless VC.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Nov 1, 2013
• ISBN: 9781927559291

Book preview

Miller

Chapter 1

The camouflaged helicopter emerged through a wall of rain. The downpour had fallen like a waterfall for the last ten or so miles until they came into a clearing. The air at the backside of the weather front had hidden them as they flew dangerously low approaching their drop point. The chopper had been stripped to reduce weight and extra fuel tanks installed to extend its range.

There were no gas stations where they were going and no possibility for refueling. The chopper was armed with machine guns and missiles in the front that could be triggered by the pilot and a side door gun but it had no gunner. It was a ship with a pilot but no copilot.

No one knew about the mission officially. It was a CIA covert operation to recover two people that no one had ever heard of. The CIA had agents that had spotted the hostage couple but the White House was not willing to risk breaking their cover to break them out. It had taken too much time to train them and get them into position and the loss could have grave consequences for the network that had taken years to infiltrate.

The North Vietnamese and the South Vietnamese were entering into peace talks organized by the United Nations in an effort to end the conflict in Vietnam. Two weeks before the talks were to begin, the top diplomat in charge of negotiating the terms for the South to end the war, had been informed that his brother and sister-in-law had disappeared. He received a picture of them both with a battered New York Times newspaper dated two days after their disappearance. The talks were to begin in five days.

Mike McCabe was hours away from departing on a fourteen day leave and halfway through a bottle of Russian potato vodka when three men in off the rack gray suits materialized at the door of his apartment in Saigon.

They had barely confirmed that he was Major Michael McCabe before they packed some of his belongings and told him where they were going. They left behind a very unhappy girlfriend Lieutenant Jan Dickson to fend for herself without even an explanation and to cancel all of their travel plans. All they told Mike was they were rounding up a few members of his old unit for a reunion.

Most of the original unit had either finished their tour, were wounded and discharged, or had been killed in action. Most had suffered the later fate. Their only failing was that the unit was simply too good at what they did. If there was a tough job that absolutely had to be completed successfully, then they were the unit that received the marching order.

McCabe had led from the front and not from behind and his men trusted him and would follow him into the gates of hell. If the gates were locked, they’d break them down. This was a quote in a memo from a general in a report to the secretary of war. For this reason alone, the army was reluctant to let Mike go.

Sergeant Marco Carini, alias Crowbar Carini, after being honorably discharged from the service had returned to his old ways in organized crime. The CIA spooks plucked him from incarceration at the Cleveland justice center where he had been jailed and awaiting a bail hearing. He was implicated in the hijacking of a boxcar load of diesel engines headed for the Ford assembly plant.

A deal was brokered: a promise of exoneration in exchange for Crowbar’s participation in the mission. This was, of course, much to the dismay of the prosecuting attorney’s office. He was also promised a visa for his Vietnamese girlfriend that in the past after numerous applications had been denied entry by immigration.

Sergeant Washington, now a lieutenant, the reluctant amateur helicopter pilot that had saved their lives on their last mission, was promised flight training in the big jets with no more combat missions. He was up for several medals for flying in the face of fire to both support units under fire as well as evacuate hundreds of wounded men even when he had been ordered to return to base. Washington was up for two Purple Hearts for wounds received in the performance of his duty.

Major Mike McCabe had two years left in the service. He would have his time reduced to six months riding a desk in a cushy job. Cocktails promptly at 5 at the officers club where he could drink himself numb to finish out his time. He had twelve medals with three more pending review and more than twice that many scars on his body. What the hell am I still doing here, he thought to himself. He had been on the other side of no tomorrow more than he could count. Like a squirrel that walked a power line one too many times, he would eventually get fried if he didn’t get away from the front.

At a glance it looked like it was a win-win for everyone involved. With the possible exception of hostages and the three battered soldiers that should have gone home long before. The CIA and the Army always made the plan look like it was as cool as a summer breeze. The mission was to extract the hostages if at all possible. But there also was the possibility that they could already be dead. If so, they were to verify with photos if possible or retrieve a live witness to verify the couple’s demise. If they weren’t dead already and they couldn’t get them out, orders were to terminate them and their captors so that they could no longer be used as leverage during the peace negotiations.

Leaving without them, or leaving them behind alive, was not an option. Mike was personally against this option though he didn’t voice his opposition. When the three remaining men from their unit were reunited, after exchanging insults, they were sequestered to their own private quarters for the two days of planning, and briefings awaiting new intelligence photos. They were only allowed to leave for meals and all alcohol consumption was confined to quarters. This operation was top secret and no loose, liquored lips were going to sink this ship.

Chapter 2

On the final day of planning, they met in General Sole’s office. New surveillance photos hung on the wall along with weather maps, photos of the drop zone and extraction point, and the list of equipment Mike and his men requested. All the equipment including weapons was stacked against the wall. When they walked into his office that morning, the final shoe dropped. Seated in front of the general were two contract CIA Chinese mercenaries.

Mike had seen these two before and others like them. They were sent out on missions that were mostly do or die, one way clandestine operations. They went into places they weren’t supposed to be. Their job was to fight alongside the man they were assigned and to defend him with their lives at all cost. If the man they were assigned to was wounded or killed, it was his obligation to get them out dead or alive. No man or his body was left behind. Again, they went places they weren’t supposed to be on operations that were not sanctioned officially by the government. They either came back with their man, or died trying, or they did not come back at all. If they returned without their charge they were never seen again. No one knew for sure but rumors spread that they met a very unpleasant and untimely demise. The good news was that these two had been around longer than Mike.

All three men stood up. The general made introductions. With an open palm towards the first man standing in front of him he said, This is Lt. Wang Jun and Lt. Li Yong. Pointing to Mike he said, This is Major McCabe and Sgt. Carini and Lt. Washington.

They all shook hands except for Crowbar. He just backed up against the wall, arms folded, with a look of betrayal. He didn’t like or trust any of the Asians and didn’t like the look of this. The general said, These two gentlemen will be accompanying you on this mission. They have been up there before but not to this particular site. He went to the wall of photos and maps. These are photos from the latest fly over. It’s an installation of some sort, perhaps a depot or a camp. No one other than the CIA assets in country had been that far north. None were ever able to get any closer than two miles. The only way the hostages have been confirmed as being at the site is that one of our assets saw them in an open vehicle. He was working on a drainage pipe on the only road into the installation.

Mr. and Mrs. Dang, the general said while he passed out photos, have not been seen coming out. The CIA has maintained constant surveillance on the road. There have been aircraft heard flying in and out but there have been no craft sighted or identified or a landing zone pinpointed at this time. There have been no airstrips seen on the fly over, so we assume they use helicopters. Your job, gentlemen, is clear. You extract the Dangs, or make sure they are no longer a threat to the peace negotiations. And while you are there, collect any information regarding the purpose of this installation. The North Vietnamese army is keeping it very secret and is going to great lengths to keep it so.

Crowbar came forward and said, Just send in the planes and bomb the shit out of the place and we can all go home.

General Sole said, That’s always your answer, isn’t it, Sergeant? Just blow shit up. Wherever you guys go, it’s been a scorched earth policy. You can’t do this here. We are under a ceasefire with peace negations only a few days away. This mission is strictly a seek and find and extraction mission - nothing else. This is not a ‘kill them all and let God sort them out’ operation. Lieutenants Jun and Yong will accompany you as additional firepower as well as to make sure you remain within the guidelines outlined in this mission. Mr. and Mrs. Dang are the central purpose of your mission. If they are there and you can get them out, do so. If they are there and you don’t have a shot at getting them out, then you are to terminate them at all cost. If they are not there, then just get the hell out. No blowing shit up just because a couple of two by fours are nailed together at an angle that offends you.

Crowbar said, So let me get this straight before we go any further. We just tippy toe in there like Tinker Bell and if things don’t go right, we just run away? You send Ying and Yang here along as babysitters and if we don’t do what they like, what are they going to do? Shoot us?

Mike thought to himself, Crowbar was an equal opportunity bigot. In his mind, he wasn’t prejudice. White, black, Hispanic, Asian, Native American, Middle Eastern, Indian, it didn’t matter. If you weren’t born Italian, then God didn’t like you.

Listen, General Sole said, Jun and Yong here are there to back you up. They both speak fluent Vietnamese and like you they have a personal stake in the success of this mission. The Dangs speak no English. All your equipment is over there against the wall for your inspection. You have all the ammunition you need but I hope you don’t have to fire a shot. The only thing that is not there was the five blocks of C4 you requested. You have just enough to knock down a couple of doors, not a large building.

The general opened a drawer and pulled out a bottle of single malt scotch and 6 glasses and filled them half way. After passing them around he made a toast. Raising his glass, he said, Here’s to a successful mission. They all drank up and the general said, Grab your equipment and go get some rest. You leave at 0300 hours so you should arrive to your drop point at dawn and beat out this front that is moving in.

Chapter 3

They didn’t beat the front. An hour into the flight, they hit a wall of water and gusting winds that battered the aircraft around and everyone was nauseated from the stifling heat and lack of air in the cabin. Washington was flying purely on instruments since the haze and torrential downpour left him flying blind. He was flying low in order to avoid detection by radar and that led to greater anxiety because there were no brightly lit cities to guide him, only small villages with no electricity. They all feared slamming into the side of a mountain.

A relieved Washington yelled back that they were 12 minutes to the drop zone. They landed on a small grassy area on the backside of a large hill that was not quite large enough to be considered a mountain. It was 5 miles to the south of their objective. From this point, it was a hike through the jungle on a downward slope made slippery by the heavy rain.

After the four men jumped out, Washington took off again to fly two miles to the west away from any villages and land in a clearing. He was to camouflage the aircraft and wait for the signal to fly to the extraction point about a half mile from their objective. The signal for retrieval was five clicks followed by five more clicks with the radio microphone carried by Lt. Jun. Two clicks followed by two clicks meant they were in trouble and to expect enemy fire. Three clicks in sequence meant a man is down.

Verbal communication was definitely out because only their team spoke English. The two Chinese agents also spoke Vietnamese. It was unlikely that any of the enemy soldiers spoke English so their presence would be known if their exchanges were picked up. The only conversation would be if an alternate extraction point was necessary or if they came under fire during escape or should other complications arise.

They each had detailed maps of the area with coordinates noting land marks. They had studied the maps and reviewed the operation plan painfully. It was anticipated that they would reach their destination by nightfall barring any complications like encountering a patrol. The chances of that though were considered slim. They were so far north, hundreds of miles from the nearest confrontation that there would be no need for patrols. The North Vietnamese would feel secure on their own home turf especially with the suspension of bombings and slowing in the fighting with peace negotiations about to begin. Closer to the front, both sides held their ground and chance encounters did lead to some casualties. As far as CIA intelligence could conclude, the N.V.A. was not aware that the installation had been detected.

The four men’s camo blended in well with the surrounding jungle as Mike led the way. No one spoke as they picked their way down the slope using only hand gestures to signal orders. They were aware that there was a creek at the bottom of the first grade and they crossed it before noon without incident. It was halfway into their trek and they were on time even though both the jungle and mosquitoes were thick.

All four men were wet from the undergrowth and sweat. It was apparent to everyone that no one had traveled through here in a long time. After about another mile in they encountered another creek that wasn’t on the map. This one was narrow and swollen and looked deep. The water movement was loud enough that they were able to talk without being heard and it was decided that Crowbar would strip off his gear and wade across with a rope. The rope would be secured to a tree on either side, and the gear and remaining men would cross one at a time.

Crowbar, halfway across, slipped on a rock and was swept downstream yelling curses. The only thing keeping him from disappearing under the water was his grip on the rope. Yong jumped in and swam quickly to the other side. He cut off a thick vine and held it out to Crowbar who gripped it with his other hand and was surprisingly manhandled to shore by the much smaller Asian man. Crowbar didn’t thank him; he just nodded and said, You should have done it in the first place, with a few choice words thrown in just to share his discontent.

Once across, they moved on and around 4 pm they came to what looked like a scarcely used trail lacking recent footprints. They could not have been more than half a mile from their destination. Both directions seemed headed toward where the installation was located. Mike signaled to Yong and Crowbar, pointing to the northeast. He then pointed at his watch, put up six fingers and pointed at the ground where they were standing.

Yong gestured Ok, and Crowbar, looking tired from the long hike, just gave him the finger. Jun and Mike crept silently in the opposite direction to the northwest. Crowbar and Yong didn’t have to go far before they ran into what looked like an ancient wall. It was over eight feet high covered with an overgrowth with old Asian symbols carved into stones that were mounted atop the wall every thirty yards or so. They followed it around until they heard the sound of vehicles moving around on the other side.

Yong pointed to a large tree and then pointed up. Crowbar pointed at himself shaking his head side to side then pointed at Yong and nodded. Yong got the message and eased off his pack and leaned his weapon against the tree and began climbing. Crowbar covered him as he watched him scale the tree like a spider monkey, only much more quietly. He was up there for almost two minutes peering around with his