Loon - Jack McLean [68]
“Miller’s fire team, 3rd Platoon, hustle up, sound off.”
Disparate responses followed.
“60 mm mortars—who has the second fire team tube?”
“Corpsman! Corpsman!” The call echoed across the side of the hill from several directions. Broken legs? Bullet wounds? Impossible to tell.
“Corpsman!”
All around us the other choppers hovered, discharged their human cargo, and left. Each wave of newcomers flattened themselves in the tall elephant grass while getting their bearings.
Then there was calm. The last of the choppers left, the shooting stopped, and we were left momentarily alone to gather our gear, our comrades, and ourselves. Lost children were reunited with parents. Lost luggage was reunited with passengers.
The hill we were on went up in one direction and down in the other. Taking out neither compass nor map, we headed up the hill. If we weren’t the current occupiers, then we would be shortly.
When I reached the top of the hill, I had an unexpected encounter with Leeland Johnson, a friend from my time stationed in Barstow, California. Leeland was a squad leader with the 2nd Battalion, 4th Marines that we were replacing.
“Hey, Jackson,” he said, and smiled. We briefly hugged, although we were so loaded down with gear that we were barely able to touch hands.
“How’s it look, Lee?” I asked.
“Jackson, in a word, you’re fucked. It’s the hottest hill I’ve seen in country. We have succeeded in getting the gooks good and pissed for you … and I mean pissed. Word is there’s a regimental headquarters under us.” He pointed a finger directly downward for emphasis. “Like, down there.”
Down there meant that the NVA were tunneled in directly under our position. With that and a quick wave, Corporal Leeland Johnson led his squad into the welcoming belly of one of the hovering choppers, which were now circling back to evacuate the forces we were relieving.
Our assignment was to replace the 2nd Battalion, 4th Marines who were already on the hill. It wasn’t lost on us that Charlie and Delta companies were replacing four companies on a position designed for at least four companies. Bill Negron, radio operator Tillery, and the balance of the company command were the first to land. They were met by a young marine who escorted them along the ridge to a hastily fortified position. The rest of us ultimately got our bearings and made our way from more than a dozen separate drop points. We crossed the perimeter and quickly saw that the defenses were set for a battalion. Our two reinforced companies were half that size.
Negron was greeted by Lieutenant Colonel “Stub” Barrow, outgoing commander of the 2nd Battalion, 4th Marines. They shook hands as Barrow gave Negron a quick briefing. Barrow said that two of his rifle companies had been probed heavily the previous two nights. He pointed the way to the general location. His other two companies on the high ground to the southwest had received moderate probing. At that moment, the first enemy mortar landed nearby. Barrow stuffed the map into Negron’s hand, wished him luck, and, with his radio operator scurrying behind, boarded the last chopper.
“It’s all yours,” he shouted to Negron as the bird lifted off, but the rest of his words were lost in the prop wash of the chopper.
LZ Loon was a long knoll, about thirty yards by seventy yards. It was covered with mostly low scrub vegetation that provided little relief from the pounding sun, and no cover from the lurking enemy. The ground cover on the lower elevations included eye-high elephant grass that made the hill’s defense difficult. But for the freshly dug marine fighting holes along the perimeter, LZ Loon appeared to be untouched by the ravages of the war. It was a beautiful spot. Given our elevation, the air was cooler than it had been at Camp Carroll, and the views over the top of the jungle were breathtaking.
Delta Company had landed on an adjacent knoll one hundred yards to our north. Although separated by a deep ravine, we were in