Free The Trash Haulers by Richard Herman

colour.”
    Almost immediately, green smoke erupted from the yellow smoke at their three o’clock position. “Green is out,” Lonzo replied.
    “Got it,” Tanner said, as they turned away from the first karst still billowing yellow smoke. Now green smoke mixed in with the yellow, mimicking the real firebase. The North Vietnamese had set a very clever trap to lure a helicopter to the wrong karst and into a flak trap. “Those fuckers are good,” Tanner muttered. The top of the karst erupted in explosions as Firebase Lonzo walked an artillery barrage across the flak trap.
    “Someone down there is having a very bad day,” Perkins said.
    “Could have been us,” Tanner replied, concentrating on the approach. The marines had built the firebase at the end of a long limestone ridge that jutted into a river valley. Erosion had down cut through the ridge and broken the ridge into a series of peaks resembling jagged teeth, isolating the last peak that overlooked the river valley, which allowed the firebase to bring artillery to bear on any river traffic. It was an interdiction tactic that stretched back to when the ancient Hittites first smote the Egyptians, and only the weapons and logistics had changed.
    Tanner slowed the Huey and touched down on the small clearing that served as a helipad for Firebase Lonzo. Helicopters had airlifted a company of marines onto the top of the karst, along with a battery of howitzers and heavy mortars, and kept it resupplied. It was only matter of seconds before they could expect incoming fire from the North Vietnamese in the valley below. Collins and Myers jumped out of the Huey and motioned two waiting Navy corpsmen to load up the litter patient. The two ambulatory wounded were right behind them. While Collins strapped the litter down, Myers and the corpsman helped the wounded marines on board. Within seconds, they were ready to go and Collins was back on the intercom. “We’ve got their wounded,” he said, echoing the words of Major Charles Kelly, the helicopter pilot who turned the helicopter ambulance service into the aggressive and highly effective Dust Off mission. Kelly was killed in action on July 1, 1964, after being warned off a hot LZ. He disregarded the warning and replied, “When I have your wounded.” That had set the standard ever since.
    Tanner turned and gave the medic a thumbs up. The triumphant look on Collins’s face said it all; the reason they were there was on board. “Where do we find them?” Tanner murmured to himself as he lifted the Huey into the air and spun it around, heading for the edge of the karst. He cleared the rim and headed down, trading altitude for airspeed. Immediately, he jinked to the right, back to the left, then right again as they headed to the northeast.
    “Collins, where to? Evans or Phu Bai?” Tanner asked. The Army relied on Battalion Aid Stations for emergency stabilizing surgery and then evacuation to a Mobile Army Surgical Hospital, or MASH. Dust Off aircrews had learned through bitter experience that the first sixty minutes was critical.
    “Camp Evans,” the medic answered.
    “Got it,” Tanner replied. With a little luck, they could make Camp Evans fifteen miles north of Hue without refuelling and have their charges in good hands within the “Golden Hour.” From there, it was a short hop to their base at Phu Bai, twenty-five miles to the southeast.
    “Have you ever seen them use fake smoke before?” Perkins asked.
    “That’s a new one,” Tanner conceded. “They lured us right in. Luckily, you saw it. I didn’t have a clue. That was good thinking on calling for different coloured smoke. It got us going in the right direction and gave Lonzo a target. We need to brief Intel ASAP.” And the CO , he thought. Perkins had potential.
    *
    Over South Vietnam
    The drone of the engines filled the flight deck as the Hercules levelled off and headed north, sixteen miles off the coast. Satisfied that all was well, Warren kicked back