Free BAT-21 by William C. Anderson Page B

he'd better be prepared. He got into a
crouching position and unsheathed his knife.
    The first of the three soldiers was now reaching
the inner boundary of the mine field. Hambleton searched the sky.
Where in hell were his defenders? Where were the Sandys and the
Phantoms
    and the F-105's? Another ten yards and the nearest
soldier might be clear of the mine field heading his way.
    Come on, you mothers!
    Finally he heard it. The noise of an inbound
plane. It wasn't loud, but was coming fast. Hot damn! Now all hell
would break loose. The fighters would roar in spewing their lethal
bombardment. ...
    And then he spotted the incoming plane. His jaw
flopped open. It was no flight of Phantoms. No gaggle of F-105's. Not
even Sandys. It was a lone plane. It was Birddog!
    The little unarmed mosquito had exploded up behind
a hill, the sun glinting off its camouflage paint, its props whining
like a harpy's cry.
    Hambleton stared in open-mouthed amazement at the
little 0-2 buzzing in at full throttle. What the hell good was that
little FAC plane going to be at a time like this? He glanced down at
the soldiers. They had heard it too and had stopped in their tracks,
turning to look up. Sweeping in at treetop level, the 0-2 came boring
on like a hopped-up wasp. There was a flash and then a wisp of smoke
from under the wing. As the pilot pulled up a few scant feet above
the ground, two white phosphorous marking rockets exploded near the
advancing soldiers. The Vietnamese barely had time to squeeze off a
round at the attacking plane before they were enveloped in the
choking white smoke.
    The soldiers panicked. Completely forgetting the
mines, they raced back toward the village. It was a mistake. One
somehow got back out of the mine field unscathed. A second one almost
made it, but he tripped near the outside edge of the mined perimeter.
There was a muffled whomp beneath his sprawled body. He did not get
up. Then the leader ran afoul of one of the hideous instruments.
There was a loud percussion and he flopped to the ground screaming.
    Hambleton's limbs came to life. Taking advantage
of the diversion, he crouched low and sprinted through the
underbrush. Minutes later he was back in his hole, frantically
covering himself with brush. Hidden, he lay there, panting from the
terror and the exertion.
    Son of a bitch! As he waited for his pulse to stop
pounding, he thought of that wild man upstairs who had pressed an
attack armed only with target-marking rockets. Right out of Dawn
Patrol. Hambleton had never seen anything like it.
    It was ten minutes before he had regained enough
control to call Birddog. Then he checked in.
    "Sorry about the grandstand play there, Bat,"
said the Birddog pilot. "Saw you had a problem. Wasn't time to
round up the zoomies, so I came in myself."
    "You're crazy, Birddog."
    "In this war it's an asset."
    "I owe you."
    "I'll collect. Meantime, good news. Back at
the ranch the planners got their priorities lined up. Jolly Greens
coming in manana. God willin' and the creek don't rise. Weather
guessers predict good weather. Can you hang in one more night?"
    "I'll hang in."
    "Outstanding. Few minutes the Sandys will be
coming in with another load of gravel. Gonna fertilize your tulip
field."
    "I'm beholden."
    "One more thing to brighten your day. Chances
are the gooks won't try shelling your position. They want you alive."
    "That's comforting. Makes two of us."
    "Keep in touch. Birddog listening out."
    Hambleton clicked off his radio, lay back in his
hole, and closed his eyes as a wave of utter fatigue washed over him.
    The doorbell rang. Gwen Hambleton clicked off the
television set in the family room and went to the door. It was her
closest friend, Marge Wilson.
    "Happened to be in the neighborhood, Gwen,"
lied Marge. "Thought I'd pop by for just a minute. See if you
need anything."
    "Thanks, Marge. Come in for a cup of coffee."
    Marge planted herself on a stool at the kitchen
counter while Gwen busied herself with the