Into Cambodia - Keith Nolan [23]
By now, it was getting dark. Six men scrambled aboard each chopper. The perimeter shrank in on itself. There were twenty grunts left at the edge of the clearing, including Rappaport and Underwood, who were almost out of ammunition as they shot at every rustle. Rappaport was scared shitless, but he was nineteen and crazy. Echo Recon was a tough, rowdy lot–all volunteers–and he wanted to be on the last chopper out. Another bird landed. It was not the last, but Sergeant Street bellowed at Rappaport and Underwood to get on it, and they pulled themselves into the cabin. The Huey dropped them off at a firebase where the guys who had already landed waited for each chopper, and hugged each wobbly survivor like a long-lost brother.
Lieutenant Colonel Conrad watched one of the last lift ships come shuddering out of the LZ taking hits. One slug blew through the floor, demolished the foot of an Echo Recon GI sitting inside, then punched through the ceiling and damaged a rotor blade. The pilot kept his bird limping along until he spotted a clearing that was so close to the border that it may or may not have been in Cambodia. With Conrad's C&C and another Huey keeping tabs on him, the pilot executed a controlled crash; then the second Huey quickly landed beside them to wave aboard the shaken passengers. With the last of his infantrymen evacuated, Conrad spun his radio to the arty net and, as the fleet of helicopters banked away, explosions began to inundate the woods.
As noted by Sgt. Robert T. Pullen of D/5-7 Cav, 1st Cav Division, if you would have asked those grunts what day it was or where they were, they would not have known, for it was all“…just day after day of busting brush, getting supplied by helicopters, one continuous search mission. The enemy wasn't the dinks but the jungle itself. The heat, the hours of marching, weighted packs cutting into shoulders, insects humming in your ears until you thought one more second of noise would put you over the edge, leeches sucking your blood–you knew you were incountry too long when you waited until the end of the day to pull the leeches off–the constant fear, like someone reached into your stomach and gave your intestines a half turn. The mission was to survive.”
Chapter 5: TROUBLE WAITING TO HAPPEN
Specialist Fourth Class Angel E. Pagan, a track crewman from Puerto Rico assigned to A Troop, 1st Squadron, 11th Armored Cavalry, was sleeping before his turn on guard when his buddy, Rodney Dyer, was suddenly shaking him awake.
Explosions.
Flashes erupted from within the laager circle, lighting up the darkness, and Pagan, instantly awake, realized that burning embers had landed on his poncho and fatigues. He smothered them and jumped to his feet as Dyer rushed on to climb into the driver's compartment and start their track.
Explosions. Explosions. Explosions.
Pagan looked shocked at the mortar tracks in the center of the laager, burning and exploding in the dark. Two men were lying in the burning grass near the burning tracks, their fatigues aflame, and Pagan realized that they were still moving, and his mind reeled. Oh God, he was watching his buddies die right in front of him and he couldn't do a thing about it.
A medic tried to get through the flames.
He was stopped, forced back to safety. Everyone was scrambling aboard their tracks and hauling ass, running over their rocket screens and claymores in their chaotic escape.
Apparently, as the mortar tracks had been registering fire in the jungle surrounding their laager, a defective round had exploded in one of the tubes, igniting a chain reaction of explosions in the mortar ammunition stacked nearby. After their hasty flight, the troops spent the night sitting atop their vehicles,