The vehicle lurched forward, tracks protesting until finding traction in the soft earth. The troop pushed forward, ever aware of the dying light; ever aware of the approaching storm. Charlie owns the night, Fisher reminded himself, glancing over his shoulder from time to time to check the LT’s position in the convoy. He also checked on Green below. Constantly studying the map and his watch, Green finally keyed his intercom as the first few drops of rain hit the vehicle’s armour.
“As soon as the daylight’s gone, Fisher, we go to infrared. No white light.”
“I figure that’s about the same time this storm’s gonna hit, sir. Unfortunately the IR doesn’t cut through rain.”
Green sighed. “It is what it is, Sergeant. IR or no IR, you get this troop to the objective by 2200 tonight.”
“Will do, sir. But for the record, don’t you think it’s about time the crew knew what we’re doing this far north? I mean, we’re carrying enough ammo to take down a small city, so it’s more than just a taxi service. We’re just an hour or so from the RV and we still don’t have any final orders.”
Green sighed again, and Fisher thought he was in for a mouthful of abuse. But he was wrong.
“Okay,” Green said with a little reluctance. “Your LT’s got the full mission orders now, and the Delta Team travelling with Tail End Charlie has been briefed since the mission’s launch point. We’re bombed up because frankly we don’t know what to expect, so we’ve prepared for anything.”
“That’s encouraging.”
“Yeah, well, our intelligence advises that a regiment of North Vietnam Regulars are also pushing towards our objective from Hanoi.”
“That explains why it’s so time-critical,” said Fisher. “But what exactly are we in this race for? What’s the prize?”
“Okay, Fisher, I don’t care how open-minded you are, so just take what I’m about to say as gospel; as the culmination of five years intelligence and well-founded ground work. Men have died getting this information to the Pentagon, and if the information is true, then we may all be about to enter the history books.”
Fisher looked the CIA man in the eyes, realising suddenly just how high on Washington’s agenda this mission was. He nodded his agreement just as the cool air ahead of the storm-front squeezed through the jungle in a bluster.
“There’s an eight-hundred-year-old temple just inside the southern boundary of the demilitarised zone. And if intelligence is correct, this temple houses something that could not only change the course of this war, but ensure victory of any future war the United States may find itself in.” Green took a moment, realising the light rain on his face was gradually getting heavier. “This temple is the source of a subterranean spring that is said to only run for the course of twenty-four hours once a year.”
“Don’t tell me,” said Fisher, squinting against the driving rain. “Christmas day, right.”
“Yeah,” said Green. “Christmas day.”
“So what has an eight-hundred-year-old Buddhist temple got to do with Christ’s birthday?”
“The temple isn’t Buddhist,” Green said. “It’s Roman Catholic.”
“Catholic?”
“Yeah. We believe it’s one of the furthest outposts of the 4th Crusade, where newly discovered Vatican documents suggest the Crusaders discovered a spring that only flows on the anniversary of Christ’s birth. So now you see the absolute urgency behind this mission. It’s said this spring will bestow immortality and unearthly strength to whoever drinks the water, and was said to have been used to make a super army that devastated all before it in this region. The site was promptly made sacred and secret, the Holy Roman Empire building a fortress-like temple around it in 1204.”
“Don’t tell me we’re here to take on an army of eight-hundred-year-old Crusaders?’
Green obviously didn’t appreciate Fisher’s cynicism. “They call them the Guardians,” he answered stony faced. “And like I said, we don’t know what to expect, so we’ve prepared for the worst.”
Fisher simply nodded his understanding then keyed off the intercom, muttering to himself, “Great. We’re about to fight Charlie and the Vatican for the fountain of fucking youth.”
“Darkness cannot drive out darkness”
PART TWO
It sounded like a charging bull through the foliage. Even over the engine’s reverberation and the constant hiss of the headsets, Fisher could hear the force of the rain-front rolling in, clawing at the jungle’s face like a thrashing beast, roaring until it hit in a torrent.
Fisher lowered his seat as he keyed the intercom. “Close down, driver. You too, Fry.” Fisher reached up and closed his own turret hatch, water dripping from the seals until he fastened the combat lock. “How’s your visibility up front, Jenkins?”
“Near enough to zero, Sarge.”
“Push-on, Sergeant!” Green’s voice was distinctive over the intercom.
“What can you see?” Fisher asked his driver.
“Fuck-all, Sarge. I’ve got a white-out in front… The same over my right shoulder… And a whole lot of jungle slapping at my left periscope.”
“Maintain that position,” Fisher said, “and keep the speed steady. I’ve got slightly better visibility from up here, but it’s marginal. If you keep the foliage against our left hull it stands to reason we should still be on the road.” Fisher squinted against the forward turret window, constantly wiping condensation from the inside glass. “At this speed the jungle should make way for a clearing in about an hour or so. There we’ll steer left until we find that creek line.”
“Roger that, Sarge.”
“With a little luck this storm will pass over in no time.”
But it didn’t. The hour passed as darkness took hold, the only images outside captured as silhouettes against each lightning strike. That’s when the imagination turned on a man. That’s when you saw Charlie crouching in every shadow. We own the day… That’s when the promise of daylight was the only thing that made the night remotely bearable. They own the night. The hour quickly turned to two, then three, as they eventually stumbled across the now swollen creek and headed due north towards the cathedral site.
“Mr. Green?” Fisher said over the intercom. “Sir, I lost visual of the troop two hours ago, and strongly suggest we break radio silence momentarily to re-group.”
“No,” came Green’s stern reply. “I can’t risk the NVA intercepting our radio chatter, so we push on.”
“But, sir, the troop could be scattered all over this fucking grid. I believe we’d be stronger arriving in force and with some semblance of organisation.”
“Everyone knows their orders, Sergeant. If separated, meet at the RV at 2200. That’s just ten min—”
The vehicle collided with something outside, throwing Fisher against the .50 calibre machine gun’s breach and cutting his cheek. The engine revved in a violent burst as Jenkins’s weight fell against the accelerator with the impact before stalling. The interior lights flickered before going out as the headsets dwindled to total silence. There was only the sound of the torrential rain on the hull until Fisher eventually broke the silence.
“Everyone okay?” he called, wiping the blood from his cheek.
“Yeah,” came Jenkins’s laboured voice.