Macv, p.12
MACV, page 12
Finally, overhead, he heard the sounds of a helicopter. One, maybe two of them, flying high. It wasn’t important that the canopy concealed him and made it impossible for the crews to see him. What was important was that they were overhead. It meant that he had made it back into South Vietnam. Now there was a chance that he would be rescued.
He stopped to study the map. All around him was jungle. In some directions it stretched for miles and would take days to get through. In others, he could pop out in a klick or two. South, southeast seemed to be the direction he needed to go. He would move into an area of rice paddies and swamps. Open ground where a helicopter could spot him.
He folded the map and put it away. He opened his last canteen and took a deep drink. Then, feeling renewed, he started off. Still he was careful, but he picked up the pace. He wanted to get to the open and get the hell out of the jungle.
Just as he had begun to believe that he had misread his map, he saw a glow in front of him. It penetrated the jungle and told him that the canopy was gone. He hurried toward it until he could see the edge of the trees. Then he slowed, working his way to the very edge where he could look out into the open rice paddies.
“I made it,” he told himself. “I made it.” And then realized that he hadn’t yet. His chances had improved greatly. He was out of Cambodia and he was near open ground where American patrols or helicopters could find him. All he had to do was be patient.
For a few moments he crouched at the edge of the jungle, watching as an old woman walked from a mud hootch. She stooped, picked up something and then returned to the hootch. A man in black shorts appeared, turned and then ran, heading for a clump of trees not far from the mud hootch. And then a group of men appeared. First one, then another and another. It looked as if a platoon was filtering out of the trees on the far side of the hootch.
Before they had moved far, the old woman ran from her protection and a man shouted at her. She stopped and turned, walking back to them. Kinson wondered what was going on, and then realized he was watching an American sweep-and-destroy mission. Americans.
“Yeah!” he said, almost shouting. He stood up, waiting a moment and then stepped from the trees. It was all he could do to keep from running toward them. He needed to walk slowly, his weapon held out so they could see it was an M-16. Walk slowly so they’d know he wasn’t a threat. His size and uniform would identify him as an American. There shouldn’t be a problem.
He was halfway across the rice paddy when one of the soldiers turned toward him, raising his rifle. Kinson stopped immediately and lifted his M-16 high over his head.
“Hey!” he yelled. “American soldier.”
Two men turned toward him. One of them said something to the other and they began to walk in his direction. Kinson didn’t move. He didn’t have to.
When the others got close, the taller, older of the two asked, “Who are you?”
“Staff Sergeant Perry Kinson. My men and I walked into an ambush last night. I’m the only survivor.”
“What the hell are you doing out here?”
“Christ, sir, give the guy a break,” said the other. “Come on in. We’ll have the medic take a look at you.”
Kinson grinned, the excitement flooding through him. He wanted to scream and shout, to leap around like a kid, but didn’t. Instead he said, “I’ve got to get back to MACV and make my report.”
The officer said, “We’ve got choppers on standby. We can probably scare up a ride.”
“Thank you…”
“Dickson, Lieutenant Dickson, First Infantry Division.”
“Yes, sir. The Big Red One. Anything you can do would be greatly appreciated.”
“Come on,” said the other man. “Medic will look at you and then we’ll get you something to drink while you wait for the chopper.”
“Sounds great!” said Kinson. He knew that his words were inadequate to express what he was suddenly feeling, but he didn’t know what else to say. The rest of his men were dead in the jungle, and it was the first time since the battle that he had thought of them.
“We’ll get even,” he promised them.
Dickson stopped and asked, “What was that?”
“Nothing,” said Kinson. “Nothing.”
CHAPTER 10
MACV HEADQUARTERS, SAIGON
Gerber sat in the visitor’s chair. He had unbuckled his pistol belt and stripped off his rucksack, dropping it to the floor. He had set his weapon in the corner out of the way. He didn’t bother to check his pistol, concealed under his jungle jacket, knowing a round was chambered so that it was ready to fire.
Fetterman did the same and then took his position by the file cabinets. He leaned on the top of one, studying the file folders scattered across the top without any real interest of what was in them.
“Okay, Jerry, now we can talk.” Gerber stared at the CIA man. He didn’t think that Maxwell was the leak, but at the moment, everything pointed at him. Maxwell had said that no one was going to know the patrol was going out, and yet they had been ambushed. It meant that Maxwell had told someone something that he shouldn’t have. Gerber was going to withhold judgment until he had all the facts.
Maxwell turned to give Gerber his full attention. “Okay, you say my boys were ambushed. Anything unusual about that?”
“Hard to say. We didn’t have much time on the site. I wouldn’t expect an ambush patrol out in Cambodia. That in and of itself makes it unusual.”
“Why didn’t you have time?”
Fetterman answered that. “We got ambushed, too. Someone walked up on us while we were there.” Fetterman’s voice was tight. He too was angry.
Maxwell shot him a glance and wondered what was going on. He didn’t mention that. Instead he said, “But that shouldn’t be strange. Enemy returning to pick up equipment.”
“No, Jerry,” said Gerber, “you miss the point. The bodies had been pretty well stripped. The enemy had gotten everything that he wanted. Even cut open the pockets to steal the wallets. Nothing left for him to get.”
“That would mean…”
“Exactly,” snapped Gerber. “You’ve got a fat leak here. One with a direct pipeline into the enemy camp. A leak right out of this office.”
“Now wait a minute,” said Maxwell. “You can’t possibly think that I’m the one—”
“All I know,” interrupted Gerber, his voice taking on a hard edge, “is that you said you weren’t letting anyone know that we were going out into the field, but once we’re there, the enemy knew we were out.”
Maxwell held up a hand and nodded quickly. “Now wait a minute here. Just wait a minute.” He stared at the top of his desk. “I know I said no one else would know, but I couldn’t keep that promise. Pittman in the radio room knew, as did a couple of the watch officers, and I did coordinate with the liaison office upstairs. I didn’t want someone clearing an Arc-light because they didn’t know we had troops in there.”
“Jesus Christ in a B-52,” said Gerber. He leaned back in the chair suddenly, swiping at the sweat on his forehead. “Don’t fucking tell me that you’re keeping anything a secret if you’re not planning on doing it. Those the only people who knew?”
“Reed knows, too. Saw you leaving the office and figured I had told you to head out into the field.”
From the corner Fetterman said, “No surprise that this place is full of leaks. You’re not going to tell anyone, and suddenly half the people around here have to know.”
“Reed thinks it was the Cambodians.”
“He would,” said Gerber.
“No,” said Fetterman. “Absolutely no way.”
“Why not?”
Gerber took over again. He rubbed a hand across his mouth and chin. “Cambodians didn’t know we were going in. That lets them out right now.”
“But not for last night,” said Maxwell.
“Jerry, they’re both dead,” said Fetterman. “Why are they dead if they worked for the enemy?”
“Maybe because they were burned as sources. Charlie knew they’d be the first people we’d suspect, so he killed them to protect their other sources in the same place. They don’t care about the Cambodians.”
“Won’t wash,” said Gerber. “They were enemies of the VC. Hell, the enemy mutilated the bodies. That means neither one were our sources.”
“They still could have been the ones who talked.”
“Jerry, you’re not listening,” said Fetterman. He turned and faced Maxwell. “Maybe they were the sources, maybe they got killed by accident. Hell, it’s dark in the jungle. They might have been caught in the crossfire. But even with that the VC wouldn’t mutilate the bodies. That would be an act that was counterproductive.”
“I don’t understand,” said Maxwell.
“Christ, you’re supposed to be the fucking intelligence agent around here,” said Gerber, “and you don’t understand the local customs. If the Cambodians learn that the Vietnamese mutilate the bodies of their allies they won’t get any more help. The Cambodians will withstand torture to remain loyal, but you mess up the body and you condemn the spirit to walking the earth eternally. No reward in heaven or whatever.”
“I still don’t see…”
“Jerry, the Cambodians will put up with a lot of shit, but don’t mess with the dead. The VC were sending the Cambodians a message. Don’t work for the Americans or you’ll be doomed for all eternity. The Cambodians are not the leak,” said Fetterman.
“Okay, they’re eliminated,” said Maxwell.
Gerber turned and stared at the intelligence agent. “So now we’re right back to you and the MACV empire.”
“I suppose so.”
“The leak has to be right here under your nose, and it would seem that we should be able to figure it out. Who all did you tell?”
“I told you. And then they could have told others.”
“Shit,” said Fetterman. “Throw a rock into the pool.”
“What does that mean?” asked Maxwell.
Gerber was getting impatient. “It means, Jerry, that the circle of knowledge expands outward until it sounds like everyone who walked into the building was briefed on our activities.”
“It’s not that bad.”
“No,” said Fetterman. “It just seems that everyone knew. No one put out a memo or erected a billboard.”
There was a knock on the door. Maxwell looked up and then yelled, “Come.”
The MP opened the door and stepped in. He held two Cokes in his hand. “Sergeant up there said to deliver these to Captain Gerber and Sergeant Fetterman.”
Fetterman moved to the door and took the cold cans. “Thank you.”
The MP nodded and closed the door.
“Shit, you could have ordered me one,” said Maxwell.
Fetterman handed a can to Gerber and said, “We didn’t order these. One of our boys, Hoffs or McCarthy, was thinking of us. Not a situation you find in MACV. People taking care of one another.” He pulled the pop top, dropped the tab into the can and then drank. “Yeah. He was thinking of us.”
Gerber opened his, drank and then said, “What’s your next move, Jerry?”
Maxwell opened his drawer and pulled out a yellow legal pad. He flipped over the top sheet. “Trouble seems to have started after Tet. Oh, we always had trouble when dealing with the South Vietnamese, but this is something new. I’ve written down the names of everyone who was assigned to us since Tet. Both military and civilian.”
“So now we have to design a mission for each name,” Gerber said with a nod of his head. “Pass the information to each of the men and see which one gets leaked to the enemy. That’s providing you can keep the details secret from everyone except the man who’s supposed to get it.”
“Look,” said Maxwell, his voice rising. “I’m not incompetent. I know my job.”
“Could have fooled me,” Fetterman muttered.
“That’s uncalled for,” shouted Maxwell.
“No, Jerry,” said Gerber quietly. “It’s not uncalled for. Not when the enemy knows we’re in the field. Now, you have any clue about who the leak might be?”
“Only based on the fact that we didn’t have a problem until these new men were assigned.”
“I don’t like to think that it’s an American,” said Fetterman, shaking his head.
Maxwell looked at him. “I think that might be why this has gone on as long as it has. No one wants to think an American would go over to the enemy.”
There was another knock on the door. Maxwell rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. “It’s becoming busier than Tan Son Nhut.” He raised his voice. “Come.”
Reed opened the door and said, “Oh, I didn’t know that you were busy.”
Maxwell waved him in, glad to have someone else in the room with him. Someone who could divert some of the anger from him. “No. Come on in. Captain Gerber says that the Cambodians couldn’t have been the leak.”
Reed looked at the Special Forces officer. “You’re sure, sir?”
“Positive. They were killed in the ambush.”
“That doesn’t mean…”
“Forget it,” said Maxwell. “They weren’t the leak.”
Reed nodded. He glanced at Gerber and then back at Fetterman. “I just stopped by to see if there was anything else that you needed.”
Maxwell hesitated and then said, “Not today. Head on home.”
“Thanks,” said Reed. He headed to the door without a word to either of the Special Forces men.
“Hold it,” ordered Fetterman. “You knew we were going into the field.”
Reed stopped and stared at the master sergeant. He wasn’t sure how to respond. Finally he said, “Yes, I suppose so.”
“Where have you been?”
“I’m not sure I have to answer that.” He glanced at Maxwell.
“Go ahead,” said Maxwell.
Reed nodded and said, “I’ve been here.”
“More to the point,” said Fetterman. “You tell anyone about our mission?”
“Hey, I’m not stupid.”
“Answer the question,” said Fetterman.
“No, I didn’t tell anyone. I know enough to keep my mouth shut.”
“Not out and about, telling the girls how important you are? Not out there shooting your mouth off to prove that you’re on the inside here?”
“I resent the question.”
“Fine,” said Fetterman. “Resent it. But it wasn’t your ass getting shot at.”
Reed stared at Fetterman and finally dropped his eyes. “I didn’t tell anyone,” he said.
Maxwell broke in, “Why don’t you get out of here?”
Reed nodded and left. As soon as the door was closed, Gerber turned to Maxwell. “He on your list?”
“Yes, but I doubt he’s the leak. He had a good background check and clearance when he arrived here. His pedigree is among the best.”
“I don’t like him,” said Gerber.
“Why?”
Gerber shrugged. “I can’t put a finger on it.”
“It was because he was so ready to blame the Cambodians,” said Fetterman. “Even after you told him they were not the leak, he tried to push them as the answer.”
“He’s at the bottom of the list,” said Maxwell.
“Not mine,” said Gerber.
“A personal dislike is no reason to assume that he’s the bad guy.”
“It’ll do until I can think of a better one. He tops my list.”
Maxwell turned so that he could lean his elbows on his desk. The legal pad was centered between his arms. “I’ll go over the list, and then we’ll design a strategy.”
“Go ahead,” said Gerber. “I’m all ears.”
Reed got out of there as quickly as he could. He didn’t know why the two Special Forces men didn’t believe the Cambodians were the leak, but they were sure. He’d thought that dead men could tell no tales, but these two dead Cambodians seemed to shout answers.
Not that it mattered. With the Cambodians out as the source, Reed knew who the next victim could be, and he knew that attention had to be diverted to someone else quickly. The questioning in Maxwell’s office proved that. Now that he needed to think of another scapegoat, there was one name that came immediately to mind.
Pittman.
The man had no class. He was a gross, obnoxious loudmouth who couldn’t be trusted. Reed smiled. He’d have to find a way to let Maxwell know that Pittman was the leak. That would take some thinking. Something he’d have to figure out by morning.
But that would be in the morning. Now he’d just get out, drive over to see Thi. His smile widened as he thought about her. He felt his heart begin to beat faster but realized that it was lust. That’s all it had ever been. He couldn’t really love a Vietnamese woman. They just didn’t have the sophistication to stay up with an American man.
He left the MACV Headquarters, walked to his jeep and unlocked the wheel. He climbed in, started it and decided that he had to see Thi. Had to talk to her again. Maybe his inspiration would come from her.
As he drove through the streets of Saigon, looking over his shoulder frequently, he was afraid that he was being followed. Then, suddenly, he realized that his jeep had white numbers stenciled on the front and rear bumpers. Anyone with half a brain would know whose jeep it was. The numbers would lead investigators right back to him. He couldn’t drive it over to Thi’s.
He turned around and drove into the downtown area. He parked the jeep, locked up the steering wheel and then walked away. He turned a corner and found the streets alive with people. GIs in khaki uniforms or civilian clothes, Vietnamese men wearing Western-style clothes and Vietnamese women in short skirts and tight blouses. Noise from bars, music, shouting, arguments, filtered onto the streets. There were car horns and the rumble of truck engines. The streets were almost filled, from the buildings on one side to the walls on the other.
