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Excerpt from the Book:
The next two days they had 3 incidents,
all good guys just making their daily rice bowl moving goods around from village to village. The XO did one inspection, Ted
two.
Dark night, no moon, Dillan had just relieved the 4 to 8.
“I hear an engine, Mr. Dillan,” from the lookout.
“Don’t
hear it, but hearing isn’t all that great. Where?”
“Over there sir,” pointing off the starboard bow.
Dillan looked with
his binoculars, eyes straining.
There, a black thing moving in the gloom. Here we go again.
Dillan buzzed the skipper’s
cabin.
“What we got, Dillan?”
“Another one, about 2 points off the starboard bow.”
“Put the radar into radiate. I’m
on my way up.”
Sure enough, a small contact, about 3500 yards out mov-ing right to left bearing 260.
The speed of the
background putt putt increased. Dillan said,
“Well he knows we’re here. Either he saw us or he has a radar detector. Set
general quarters. Engine room, light off, here we go again.”
The skipper came on the bridge,
“Dillan, course to intercept,
at 12 knots?”
“Aye sir, all engines ahead full, come left to 245.”
“Engine room answers up, all ahead full, turns for
12 knots, sir.”
“Bong, bong, bong, bong. General quarters, general quar-ters, all hands man your battle stations.”
“My
rudder is left full, coming to 245, sir.”
“Very well.”
The XO walked on the bridge and over to Dillan.
“Ready to
relieve you sir.”
“Ready, XO. All head full, turns for 12, coming to 245 for a lead pursuit intercept.”
“Roger that,
this is the XO, I have the deck and the conn.” The helm and lee helm answered up.
“I’ve been properly relieved by the XO,
skipper.”
“I’ve assumed the watch, sir.”
“Good, Dillan. Do a maneuvering board on this turkey. You got it right, a lead
pursuit. Want to end up on his port quarter at about 100 yards. Chart says some shoals, we’ll stay seaward. Heads up sonar.
Advise if we are near a bar or water depth gets to less than 10 feet.”
“Sonar, aye.”
Dillan said, “Radar, you got a
course and speed?”
“Yes sir, Mr. Dillan, 178 at 6 knots.”
“This one’s a little faster than most,” from Dillan. “Looks
like 235 for an initial course. We can refine when we get closer.”
“Close enough for a destroyer, hunh? Ok, XO make it
so.”
They closed and matched course and speed with the con-tact. No running lights visible. They lit the contact up with
the searchlight. The RVN JG gave him the bull horn treatment. No change.
Jim said, “Deaf little bastard, blind too. Ok,
mount twenty one, a nice long burst across his bow.”
Pop, pop, …pop, maybe 15 rounds. Tracers visible.
Dillan could
see the contact slowing. They moved up to 75 yards and went through the heave to and anchor command. The junk showed 4 people
on deck. The RVN JG had to ask them 3 times to anchor. The last the CO punctuated with another burst of 20mm across the now
stationary bow. Two men went forward and dropped the hook. PERIGRIN holding station and keeping the light on the junk and
weapons trained.
Again they waited for sunrise. Not long. By 0630 they were swinging the inflatable over and the junk had
been advised to stand by to receive a boarding party.
Looking the junk over with his binoculars, now only 50 yards away,
“Looks like a woman with a baby. The second one aft, what do you think, Dillan.”
Looking also, “Yeah, she’s sure cuddling
something, might be a pig.”
“Ha, yeah, might be. You want to do the inspection?”
“Sure, skipper, my turn anyway.”
“Careful,
careful, this one tried to run away. Maybe he is deaf and blind, and maybe he’s a bad guy.” Then, “Tell’m to hold the boat,
Mr. Dillan’s coming down. Tell Mr. Brunswick he gets a pass.” to the phone talker.
Dillan went below and scooped up his
45, popping a loose round into the chamber and inserting a fresh clip. Hammer safe on, belting it around him, he headed aft
cinching his helmet strap tighter.
First time the damn helmet bobbed like I was drunk. Not this time.
He grabbed the
offered M16, flashlight and radio, “Ok men, I get to do it again. You lucky ones get to do it every time. Heads up, this one’s
a little squirrelly.”
“Right, sir, us really lucky ones,” from the engineman.
They piled into the inflatable and headed
for the junk, sun now a good 10 degrees above the horizon. When they came alongside there was an old rope ladder deployed.
Dillan thought, this one looks a bit older than the first, about the same size, maybe a tad longer.
They went through the
drill of getting everyone lined up on the bow, hands on heads. The RVN was poking one with his M16 and yelling at him. He
came back to Dillan who was amid-ships eyes swinging back and forth.
She looks innocent enough. Careful!
“The Captain
says hauling rice timber another village. No want trouble. Sorry didn’t stop right away. Was taking nap and stupid son didn’t
know what do.”
“Yeah, right, where’s that woman with the baby we saw.”
“She in hootch, think feeding baby.”
Pointing
to one of the boarding party, “You go watch her feed the baby, don’t be bashful and keep your gun on her. How many we got
aboard, total?”
“Captain, two men, boy, woman and baby.”
“You watch the men and boy Cu.”
Then, “Ok, time for a look
see. Aft cabin first, careful careful.”
One of the men banged the aft cabin door open and played a flashlight around. Then
he disappeared into it for a moment. Back out.
“All clear back here, Mr. Dillan.”
“Ok,” then on the radio, “PERIGRIN,
so far looks harm-less enough. Supposedly hauling rice and timber, woman feeding a baby in the hootch. We’re getting ready
to pop the hatch.”
“Roger. Maybe just another dud, but maintain your guard.”
“Wilco.” Then, “Ok, let’s get that hatch
cover off.”
The cover came off, men all around with M16s peering into the gloom, lights playing over rice bags, some lumber.
Nothing. The hold was longer than the first junk, hatch smaller.
“Ok, Cu, get two of them over here to manhandle rice bags.”
Some
orders from Cu, waving his M16 and two men came aft and jumped down into the hold. Dillan could see about 15 bags of rice
and a pile of lumber. More orders from Cu and the men started to swing rice bags up in deck.
Dillan watched. The aft most
man looked over his shoul-der into the gloom of the hold with a fleeting glance.
Something back there?
Once about half
the bags were on deck and the junk listing to starboard, Dillan had Cu get the men out and take them forward under guard.
GMG2
Prince was standing on the other side of the hatch.
“Well, Gunner, we get to take a look see,” handing off his radio and
M16, pulling out his flashlight, drawing his 45. “I’ll do aft and port. You do forward and starboard,” moving his trigger
finger out of the guard slightly.
Don’t want this baby going bang when I jump.
“If it moves, shoot it. Ready?”
Prince
nodded. “One, two, three, go,” Dillan said and they both jumped into the shallow hold, Dillan facing aft, Prince facing forward,
dropping to a crouch, weapons ready, flashlights on. Dillan dropped to one knee, 45 up, hammer back, safety off, flashlight
in his left hand under his right, the two hand tactical stance, slowly moving the light back and forth into the gloom.
Nothing.
Then Dillan saw movement. A body with some-thing in his hand. A gun! The 45 jumped in Dillan’s hand twice, loud in the enclosed
hold. A body jerked up right then back in the dark. Dillan moved left and aft in a crouch.
Behind him, brapp, brapp, very
loud, and a bee sting on Dillan’s right butt cheek. He spun around and dropped on top of the rice bags. Prince was down against
the starboard bulkhead. Dillan fired three rounds, half second spacing, into the gloom forward. Then he followed with three
more, spaced to cover the small area, waist high. He tried again but nothing happened.
Christ, empty.
Two more men jumped
into the hold, M16’s spraying rounds all over both directions. Screaming and cursing in Viet-namese from on deck. More M16
rounds going off up there. Dillan could see daylight through the tiny holes in the hull, little pencils of light.
Then
quiet. “I’m hit, I’m hit. The bastards shot me,” in Prince’s voice. Dillan slowly stood up, popping another clip in and racking
the slide, thumb safety on.
Only seven rounds this time, keep count!
Prince was holding his right shoulder, blood seeping
through his hands. Dillan moved towards Prince, 45 still ready to fire with just a snap of his thumb, watching forward, and
then looking aft again. Nothing moving. More light pencils. One of the other men was kneeling next to Prince.
He said,
“Hang in there Prince, just a shoulder, you’ll live.”
Dillan tried to kneel. Right leg wouldn’t work correctly. Not responding
totally to his brain sending it signals. He looked at Prince’s shoulder but didn’t pull Prince’s hand back. “We need a medic,”
he said and turned to the hatch rail, letting his 45 hammer down slowly to hammer safe.
Dillan tried to get out of the
hold. One man said, “Hold it Mr. Dillan, You’re hit also.”
Dillan looked down, some blood on his right pants leg. He felt
around to his right butt cheek. Wet and something sharp sticking out.
Oh, shit, an arrow, how the hell did I get shot with
an ar-row – right in the butt?
The man jumped down. “It’s a splinter, Mr. Dillan, a wood splinter, a big one.”
The radio
was squawking like mad. Dillan reached up and took it, “We had a little altercation here PERIGRIN. Prince took one in the
shoulder and I’ve got a flesh wound. We could use a medic.”
“Holy shit, Ok, send the boat back and we’ll send some more
men over including the corpsman. What the hell happened?”
Dillan waved at the boat’s engineman who jumped in and lit off
the outboard. “Go man, just go,” Dillan yelled while a couple of guys helped him on deck on top of the rice bags. Jab of pain,
“Hey, I have to be on my side, Ok,” he said.
“Dillan, you going to tell me what the f’ happened?” from the radio.
“A
couple of sleepers in the hold, I think I got one but the other opened up on Prince. We got him also. Some noise on the bow.
You see it?”
“Yeah, one of’m jumped over the side when the shooting started. Cu went nuts and machine gunned him. Then
someone tried to get out of the hootch and Richards whacked’m with a gun butt. The two remaining are sitting nice and pretty
on the bow now and Cu is telling them all about their parentage. How about Prince? You Ok?”
“Prince caught one right about
where the flack vest ends, right shoulder. Bleeding like a stuck pig but one of the guys is putting a battle dressing on it.
Prince is mad as hell. I got a piece of wood the size of an arrow shaft sticking out of my right butt cheek. Doesn’t hurt
much yet but it will.”
“Oh God, I’ll get on the horn with 115. I’m sending Jose over. We need to search that tub top to
bottom. Careful like. Might be booby trapped. Don’t move any enemy bodies. If they’re hit bad they put a grenade in their
hand and lie on it, holding the spring. Turn them over and bang. Get Prince out of the hold so the corpsman can transport.
You come with him.”
“Roger that, what do you want done with the three re-maining gooks and baby?”
“Jose will have Cu
tie the guys up and we’ll bring’m all back here. I think 115 will want the ARVN to have tea with’m.”
The corpsman arrived
and attended to Prince first. Dillan had reholstered his 45. Then he had Dillan roll over and he cut his pants away in the
back.
“You have a nice souvenir there, Mr. Dillan. Looks like a splinter.”
“Well take it out.”
“No sir, not my pay
grade. You’re bleeding a bit, but if I pull the plug it will get a whole lot worse. The DaNang docs will have to do it. I
just stabilize and rig for transport. You’re going to feel a little prick in your other cheek. Have a nice trip in dream land.”
“What,
ouch, a little prick hunh? What was that?”
“Morphine, stay down. It hits quick. Not enough to put you out all the way,
but you’ll be a happy man for awhile.”
The man pinned the used ampoule needle into Dillan’s collar, a way to keep track
of morphine injections.
Dillan said, “Great. How do I get back to the ship?”
“Oh, you’ll love it. A ride on a stokes,
you and Prince to-gether.”
“Same stokes, no way.”
“You’ll be face down, watch for the crotch buster. You know, that
leg divider in the middle. And you get your own basket.”
A warm feeling was spreading over him.
Woo. This boat’s a rocking.
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