Catch up on the story here.
Lt Jensen’s scowl never really left his face. Except when he was stoned or drunk, which was only back at the FOB during the rare down time away from the baleful eye of ‘other officers’ and command. Yeah it was like that. Two standards, two set of rules. But hey man thought Jensen. Its cool, I get to kill men, I get to make men into killers. Its all cool, fine and dandy.
He raised a fist, called a halt. The well trained men set to organizing security without being told. The Sarge looked questioning at him. Jensen just held a finger to lips.
They waited.
When Jensen was satisfied that whatever sound he heard was not human, he waved the search line forward. Slow and steady he hand signalled. Then men obeyed. Most out of respect. Some out of fear. Those that had seen him in action did not ever want that rage unleashed upon them. No Sir. He was a lead and kill from the front type. Not a West Point pretty boy fresh out of OCS. No. He had risen to lead, because he was good at doing what he did.
That’s all. Just knowing the gook better than the gook knew themselves. After just a few months, he had them nailed. So they listened. Some learned. Yet still they died. Less than other Platoons. But Platoon 2 had its reputation for being bad ass. Led by a crazy black man hell bent on some sort of crusade to ‘kill them all’ and ‘kill them first.’ More a mantra than a motto.
Again he called a halt. Checked his watch and waited. The first shots off to his right were from an RPD, being fired, most likely at Nightingales Platoon #1.
Jensen sidled over to the Corporal leading 2nd squad. ‘Cooper, take your boys and head on up and to the right, be on the look out, we got to be close them now. I can feel ’em. You catch lead drop and suppress, we will do the rest, now get on brother.’
‘You got it Lt, lets roll boys, low and slow.’ Cooper, was a cornhusker, huge across the shoulders, tall and always humped double ammo. Cooper could be relied on in a fight.
He smiled at the fact that LT had called him brother. That was respect, he had earned it.
Sure enough not 50 yards more through the triple canopy Cooper and his squad started to take fire. Alpha fire team took the brunt, but quickly went to ground to ground and returned fire. Bravo Fireteam, lent their support and the fight was joined, however Coopers squad was suppressed by the volume of fire. Their new lighter weight M16’s and grenadier peppered fire in return to no avail. The crump of a grenade behind Cooper sent hot flashes of pain racing up his legs and back. He tried to recover, but couldn’t move. He heard some one call out for the medic. Hands shaking he brought his weapon to bear, firing back into the jungle.
The volume of fire took everyone by surprise. Jensen’s plan had been to sweep from the flank of the VC, and cut them down. As they moved forward, They encountered more enemy lying in wait.
He and the two squads pivot quickly and engage. But too late. Something new. Something not from the playbook.
Jensen sends a fireteam to assist Cooper. But its too late. The men have been overrun. ‘Get some air support right on top here ASAP.’ He says. He seethed. The anger roiled, the memories raced to the fore. Gripping his weapon tightly he rammed those memories down deep. His boys, were dying.
Like ghosts, VC can be seen racing towards them thru gaps in the foliage. They are about to be flanked. Jensen orders A squad to cover and now has no reserve. His resources are fully committed.
‘screw the air. Hit these fuckers, up close and personal. He leads the way, their M60 provides suppressive fire and the fight goes close quarters. In a frenzy of rounds fired, mag swaps and clubbing heads, the warriors take on the superior sized force.
Ryan, one of the squaddies, and the flankers take fire. RPG contrails precede the wild shots and explosions. Ryan and his squad, remain calm and set up to receive the inbound enemy and make them pay.
‘Everyone down, I hear the F4, now feel the roar you bastards.’ Cannon shells rip the trees, bombs explode and napalm demolishes huge swaths of the jungle. Roiling black smoke crashing thunderous booms and the burning stench of flesh, compost, fuel mix in overloading waves of sight, smell and sound.
Off to his left the Jets do the dirty work he is denied. But a kill is a kill. These boys see what they can do. ‘Lets go. Move! Take that hill.’
Jensen was doing just fine. His blood still flowed. He men pressed forward.
To his rear however he heard a disturbing sound. AK’s. ‘Shit..Lt Anders got company. You boys better pray that white boy aint no pansy like the last Lt they sent or we in a whole world of shit. Watch your six.’
More to come.