Mezey looked up at him, face contorted with pain. "Damn it, David, they've done just what we didn't want. The main body's heading for the border, and we're licking our wounds." David knelt beside him, as a corpsman from another craft bandaged both wounded legs. "Take half a dozen boats in the best shape and enough men to handle some extra weapons and go after those mothers. They've got something they're hiding to pull a stunt like that."
"Right," David responded, without questioning the orders. "Are you sure you're going to be all right on the way back?" he queried.
"Yeah. I'd love to go, but you're going to have enough problems without a goddamn cripple on your hands. I'll go back with the damaged boats." He looked at his ragged fleet, the one he had so willingly volunteered only the day before. "Keep the rest a mile or two behind you, along with the battleship. You may need them if you run into any more of this shit." He grinned up at David. "Remember, this is what you cut those orders for. Get your ass in gear and get out of here."
It took only minutes to sort out the six least-damaged boats and exchange enough of the weapons and men to make them a more formidable force than they had been previously.
They moved out at high speed, each one cranked up to maximize the twenty-five knots they were designed for. This time David had little opportunity to study his charts or memorize the landmarks for a return trip. Each boat was on its own until they discovered their quarry.
The first item in his plans involved calling headquarters. He asked directly for the Task Force Commander for their region.
"This is Victory Garden One," the Rear Admiral answered after a short delay. "Go ahead. Over."
"This is Bugle Boy." He wasted no words. "Have encountered heavy riverine resistance near the border. Two attacks. Bugle Boy One is returning with damaged craft. XO now in command. Two craft sunk. Two badly damaged. Half a dozen in poor condition. Enemy escaping over water toward border. I believe they are covering for a large force, possibly the heavy troop concentration we were sent out to look for. I am closing with six well-armed PBR's. We have a secondary force of damaged boats and the ASPB is a rear guard. Request airborne assistance. Over."
"Roger, Bugle Boy. What is your estimated range from the border? Over."
"Estimate three to five miles. We are moving at flank speed, and it's hard to tell our exact location. Over."
"This is Victory Garden. Roger your location. We believe the troop concentration may be close to your present location. Do you require the aircraft for your own protection? Over."
"This is Bugle Boy. Negative. We believe there is a larger force ahead because of the nature of their attacks. If they lead us into it, the airdales can take it from there. Over."
"This is Victory Garden. We are scrambling Phantoms for you now. Call sign Playboy. Time on station twenty minutes. They will contact you on this channel. However, do not cross the border. Repeat, do not cross the border. We will monitor this channel. Over."
"This is Bugle Boy. Roger and thank you. Out."
They were rounding a bend of the river in a ragged formation when the water in front of them belched upward. The lead boat was not with them when they appeared on the other side of the wall of water. It had likely been on top of one of the mines and had simply disappeared. Ahead were the VC, the ones who had detonated the mines strung across the river, and this time they were waiting for the Americans.
As the PBR's came through the wall of water, the VC opened fire from both the boats and the shore. David's boats answered, this time with the increased firepower he had acquired from the other boats. The Communist craft, realizing they were offering too easy a target near the shore, moved out into the river. But it was too late for two of them. Both bazooka and .50-caliber fire ripped into them. They began to smoke.
There was no place for the PBR's to seek cover. The smaller VC boats were moving across the river. "Take them head to head," David shouted to his boats over the radio, and the little PBR's maintained their twenty-five-knot speed right into the middle of the enemy.
At this point, David realized that the fire from the shoreline had been heavier than from the boats. They must have been offloading troops, probably the ones that had ambushed them downriver. The fire from shore could not keep up with the speeding boats, and was minimal once David's PBR's were among the enemy. The VC craft were not as fast or as maneuverable as the PBR's. The latter boats had the advantage of speed and firepower as they swept by. Reversing their direction, they made a second run on the VC boats, only two of which now showed much fight. The others were aimlessly floating in the middle of the river, abandoned by their crews. One of the remainder took two bazooka hits simultaneously, drifting toward the shore. With all the fire now concentrated on the remaining boat, it was literally lifted out of the water.
David's five remaining boats had been raked continuously by small-arms fire but none of the heavier weapons from shore had touched them. With only superficial damage, they were still fully operable, and he turned his attention to the sporadic fire from shore. They're going to disappear again, he thought. He picked up the mike, calling to his meager force, "I'm going in to shore to see where they're off to now. Number four boat come with me. The rest of you cruise offshore, covering us. You're going to see a bunch of Phantoms coming in low soon, and that's when we can all relax."
They beached their craft right where the VC boats had pulled out from the shoreline to stop them. It was just like Mezey had said about his previous trip ashore that day. Not a soul remained. Spent shell casings gave evidence of weapons having been fired. There had obviously been many people there at one time, yet they had disappeared as if by magic.
Then, on the opposite side of the huge clearing they had entered, he saw the vehicle tracks, many of them. Since there were few roads through the jungle, the VC used trucks and other large vehicles only when they were carrying heavy equipment. The docking area they had landed at indicated it was well used, probably to land men and supplies. This must be the staging area the generals and admirals had been hoping for. He heard the roar of the jet planes at the same time the first call came over the radio, "Bugle Boy, Bugle Boy, this is Playboy. Do you read me. Over."
"This is Bugle Boy. Welcome. Over."
"This is Playboy. Request your coordinates. Over."
David studied the chart he pulled from his pocket. He found it hard to convince himself that they weren't already in Cambodia. "This is Bugle Boy. You are passing directly over me now. Can you see anything to the west of this location. Over."
There was silence on the circuit for a moment as the five Phantoms swooped low over the jungle not too far from where the staging area existed. "Wow! I have trucks, artillery, and. many troops in sight. Bugle Boy, what are your coordinates? It looks to us like we've got a problem. They're in another country, my friend. Over."
"Playboy, Playboy, you are cutting out on this circuit. Switch to channel seventeen. Out." And the circuit was suddenly dead. He had to take the chance. He knew that headquarters would be listening on that circuit, or at least they could hear the talking from the Phantoms' end.
He had the coordinates he wanted as he attempted to regain contact with the Phantom squadron leader. "Playboy, this is Bugle Boy. How do you read me now? Over."
"This is Playboy. You're loud and clear. You can bet that Victory Garden is going to be unhappy about not being in on this conversation. They want to make sure we were playing by the rules. Over."
"Roger, Playboy. I understand. I have our location now." And he had bought the time to give them the coordinates that would have placed them about three miles to the east. Now, he didn't care if Victory Garden had also switched to channel 17. "You're safe to make your runs, now. And give it to them good. They tore apart our squadron, and we'd like them to know how it feels. Over."