"Dewitt," Murdock called.
He swam over from where he had been and nodded.
"Patrol boats ahead," Murdock said. "Swim up and contact the other men and get them all out of the water on the right-hand side. Looks like more protection on that side. Leave one man close to shore we can spot."
Dewitt waved, and struck out with a crawl stroke that would eat up the distance quickly, taking Fernandez with him.
Murdock and Holt began angling back to the right-hand shore. They hit bottom twice and pushed off. The growl of the patrol boats came sharper now. The river made a bend to the left, and then Murdock could see them.
Six flashing lights showed maybe a quarter of a mile downstream. There were six patrol boats working slowly against the current, searchlights playing over the water and touching both shores, probing through brush and trees.
"Looking for us," Holt said.
"True, let's hit the bank and get into some cover. We'll find the rest of the men later."
They got Frazier to shore, but had to help him walk as they worked up the bank into a thick growth of brush and some trees. Frazier shook his head.
"I can make it. Damn side isn't that bad. I can make it."
Murdock sent Holt running downstream to find Doc and bring him back. He hoped the others weren't too far ahead.
Dewitt swam as strongly as he could while holding onto Fernandez for what he figured was five minutes. He hadn't found the others. Then he heard a cough ahead and stroked hard again. He found them standing neck deep in the water near the shore.
"Out and into the brush," he said. "Murdock is just behind. Doc, you better get back along the bank and see if you can do something to help Frazier. He's not good. They might be near shore or in the brush somewhere. He's hurting pretty bad."
Doc waved and shook the rest of the water off him, made sure his MP-5 was drained, and took off upstream at a jog. Dewitt moved the men deep into the brush. He'd seen the probing searchlight and he wanted to be sure they were out of sight.
Doc ran along the shore. The boats were far enough away so he was not taking any risk staying in the open. He heard someone coming and dropped to his knees, his MP-5 up and ready. A shadow loomed out of the darkness and before he could swing the weapon up, someone slammed into him.
Doc jolted to the ground and rolled over. He started to swing his room broom around when he heard a chuckle.
"Damn, Doc, I nearly wasted you good," Holt said. "How you know I was coming to fetch you?"
"You came within a red cunt hair of getting three slugs up your left nostril. How bad is Frazier?"
By the time Doc got there, Frazier was feeling better. Doc gave him a shot of morphine, a drink of water, and two chocolate bars. "Don't ask me where I got them," Doc growled.
"We have time to get up to Dewitt before the patrol boats get here?" Murdock asked.
"Not likely, L-T. We best do a hide-hole right here if we can."
They moved deeper into the brush and settled down flat on the ground.
Five minutes later, the patrol boats came chugging by. The powerful searchlight dug through the trees and brush, but revealed nothing unusual to the Chinese men on the boats. They kept on working their way upstream.
"The water again?" Frazier asked.
Murdock made up his mind. "No. Too dangerous. They could come steaming back downstream silently and catch our asses. We'll stick to the land. We should be getting close to the beach."
They went back to the shore and worked up to where Dewitt and the rest of the platoon waited for them.
"How is he?" Dewitt asked.
"Better," Murdock said. "We'll stick to dry land for a while. The beach can't be far away now."
Red came up and checked the stars. "L-T, we need to swing away from the river to get southeast. We ready?"
Murdock sent him out thirty yards ahead and he and Holt followed. All had drained and checked their weapons. All were locked and loaded and ready to fire. Murdock asked Doc about Fernandez.
"His arm is giving him a bad time. I put it in a sling and gave him a shot of morphine. He should make it. He's one tough cookie."
Their line of march cut across a field, edged around a small village without a single light, and then back on their heading. Murdock kept hoping he would smell salt air. He didn't. Maybe there was an offshore flow of air. Yeah, that must be it. They had to be within a mile of the surf.
They hit a road that went almost in the direction they wanted. They took it and the men eased up a little. The walking was better there than across the uneven fields, jumping rice paddy dikes and wading through unharvested grain.
A truck's lights down the road drove them into the field and they kept there after that. A half mile farther along, Murdock stopped still. He turned his head and grinned. Salt air. At last he could smell the salt air.
He ran up to Red and they checked out what lay ahead. They saw a few lights of what must be one small village to the left maybe a mile off. To the right they saw no lights of any kind.
"Salt air, Red. You smell that?"
Red nodded. "About fucking time. How far?"
"No idea, but our Chinese friends have no clue where we are, which is good for us," Murdock said. "They checked the river and our former position. We vanished into thin air on them. No reason they should think we're down here. Now, all we have to do is find the beach, give a yell on the SATCOM about where we are, let them triangulate the transmission, and come and pick us up."
They stared straight ahead down their star path.
"Let's hit the road again for a half hour. Then we'll see just where that beach is."
Twenty minutes later they slowed and stopped. Murdock moved up beside Red.
"Trucks," Red said. "I can hear them and they are right in front of us somewhere. We need a little rise or a hill or something."
The ground around them was flood plain and flat as a rice paddy.
"Closer," Murdock said.
They walked ahead a hundred yards and came to a slight rise. When they looked over it they saw lights strung along what only could be a road. Trucks rolled both ways. The salt air seemed stronger to Murdock.
"Trucks and more trucks," Red said. "The damn Chinese must have a division out looking for us."
"Good, give them something to do while we slip right through their net and into the water. Four hundred yards to the beach. Let's move up as close as we can get without giving away our position. We need a good look at this situation."
The word was passed. No talk, no noise, quiet or dead. They worked up slowly, crawling the last fifty yards through tall grass that gave them perfect concealment.
Murdock and Red eyed the roadway from the grass. It was built up like the other road, only this one had knots of Chinese troops every hundred yards. They were all carrying weapons, each group now and then patrolling halfway to the next group.
"Doesn't look good, Skipper," Red said.
Murdock could hear the faint roar of breakers across the road. He could see no lights beyond the road. It had to be the beach just beyond that thin line of troopers. His only problem was how in hell did he get across that line without losing half his platoon.
37
Murdock moved his troops into a dry irrigation ditch three feet deep that ran alongside the roadway. They were still a hundred yards from the Chinese troops.
"We need to find a weak spot," Murdock whispered to Red. The scout nodded. He motioned to the left and they crawled that way. After two hundred yards they could see no change in the placement of the troops along the far side of the road.