Eagle Station Part 33

"Well, n.o.body has asked me whether or not I want to go," Babs Powers said as she walked over to the group. "And the answer is-I don't want to. This is the most excitement I've had in years." Her breath had the faintly sweet smell of a good gin.

"You have no choice, Mrs. Powers," Wolf Lochert said in soothing tones that surprised everyone.

"Oh, yes I do, Colonel. You can't order me around."

"Can't order you, but I can lift and toss you into the helicopter," Wolf said as smoothly as before.

"We'll see about that," she snapped.

"You can't talk to my wife like that," Jerome Powers said in a high-pitched voice.

Wolf gave him a withering glance and Powers took his wife back to the corner.

Court looked around the bunker and found a PRC-25 FM radio. "I'm going out and take a look."

"We'll go out and take a look," Wolf said, grabbing his AK-47.

"Keep us informed," Mister Sam said. Another sh.e.l.l impacted in the distance.

"Court," Barbara Powers said as she walked up to him, "take care of that magnificent body." She swayed slightly and put her hands on the lapels of his safari suit.

"Madam," he said, and pulled her hands away, "you have the wrong man."

"I'm not a madam," she exclaimed.

"To me you are," Court said.

"By G.o.d, you'll pay for that," Jerome Powers said. "When we get back I'll have you up on charges."

Court ignored him and followed a chuckling Wolf Lochert out the door.

Outside, they found themselves in dense fog that had rolled in. "This karst sticks up so high we're in the clouds," Court said. "I wonder what the ceiling is down below."

They jogged at an easy pace through the mist around the complex, checking damages and the fighting positions of Hak's men. At two-minute intervals they heard the express-train rush of another sh.e.l.l and took cover.

"Those sh.e.l.ls are not very effective with only one tube and no one to spot for them," Wolf said. They crossed to the village of Poo Pah Tee, where the people were out walking, unconcerned, about their business.

They found Major Hak at one of his mortar pits that doubled as a forward observation post looking out over the surrounding jungle to the east.

The mist was an impenetrable wall.

Major Hak greeted them with a broad smile. "We can see nothing, they can see nothing." A sh.e.l.l crashed into the eastern hill well below them.

Then the sound of machine gun fire came up from the northern side, where the trail from the jungle floor rose up to Poo Pah Tee. Immediately after the shooting, some rapid-fire Hmoung syllables sounded on Hak's radio. He listened intently and snapped a few comments in return.

"They say enemy soldiers come up trail, they fight now," he said calmly.

The battle sounds of shots and bursts of automatic weapons were muted in the mist and fog. Several explosions that Wolf said were hand grenades rolled up heavy and thick from below.

A 133mm. sh.e.l.l crashed behind them toward the radar site.

"Hey," Mister Sam said on Court's radio, "that was pretty close. Pearson said fragments sprayed the radar van. I'm telling him to shut down and move his men in here."

Firing started from a section of the trail leading to the village.

Hak took the report on his radio and said his troops were engaging another attacking force. He turned and gave information to the mortar crew. They rotated and cranked the barrel to a predetermined elevation and started dropping mortar sh.e.l.ls into it. The whumpf of their departure was followed seconds later by the m.u.f.fled bang of their impact. Court and Wolf stayed a few more minutes while Hak fed the corrections he received on his radio to the mortar men. Soon he grinned at a report coming back from them and said, "We kill mak-mak bad guy down trail."

Court and Wolf headed back to the command bunker. It was hot and crowded. "Man," Pearson said, "this is a twelve-man bunker. It isn't geared for all"-he counted rapidly----twenty-three of us." The technicians from the radar site sat on the dirt floor with their backs to the walls. There wasn't another inch of wall s.p.a.ce available. Jerome and Barbara Powers had a section to themselves. Court saw her return a silver flask to her bag.

Wolf checked about the sandbagged room and noted that Mister Sam had done a professional job in setting up the facility.

"I've got food and water for all of us for a week," the CIA man said, "and more ammo than we can possibly use, mainly because there aren't any gunports to fire from."

A loud boom sounded close by, jarring sand loose from the roof.

"Where is our helicopter?" Powers said to no one in particular. Babs shot him a contemptuous glance.

Mister Sam turned from his HF radio. "Just talked to Victor Tango. They say no pickup helicopter. Weather is too sour and it'll be dark out there d.a.m.n quick." Another crash outside dislodged a cascade from the roof.

"That's twice in a row they came close," Mister Sam said.

"That's not coincidence. I think somebody's spotting for them now."

"So do I," Wolf said. "Bannister, let's go take a look."

For the second time both men went out the door. In addition to his PRC-25 radio, Court carried one of Mister Sam's AK-47s and ammo and grenades. Wolf was equally armed.

"First thing we do," Wolf said over his shoulder as he ran in a crouch to the closest underbrush, "we get away from the lucrative targets."

Court followed him until they both lay p.r.o.ne under scrub bushes next to a rock formation. The two-minute interval between the sh.e.l.ls remained the same, but they were landing with more accuracy. Court eased up the side of the largest rock to look at the airstrip. The cloud-fog had lifted.

"Can't get anything in there but a helicopter until we fix those holes,"

he said. A roaring noise sounded and he ducked down.

The sh.e.l.l landed near the radar bubble, puncturing it with tiny holes from rock splinters.

Wolf rose next to him. "We need to find the highest place a spotter can be to see where the sh.e.l.ls land." He looked around.

"Over there." He nudged Court and pointed to a pile of shale and karst 500 feet away at the far end of the plateau, away from the village and the radar site.

"Oh, d.a.m.n-look," Court said, pointing at the command bunker. Babs Powers had come out the door and was walking in weaving strides across the open area to where Court and Wolf were crouched. Her bag was clutched under her arm.

Court checked his watch. Another sh.e.l.l was due any second.

He stood up. "Go back, go back," he shouted.

She smiled and waved. "Wondered where you were," she said gaily. "Whee, isn't this fum?"

The rush of the express train started and, without trying to call or wave, because she probably wouldn't respond in time, Court sprinted out and scooped her up and ran back to the rock basin where he and Wolf had crouched. He was barely two feet short of the sanctuary when the sh.e.l.l impacted where she had been standing and the concussion blew them in a heap at Wolf's feet. They sat up and brushed off.

"So thaaaat's what it's like to be sh.e.l.led," Babs said after a moment in that falsely gay voice one usually gets the first time one has just escaped death on a battlefield.

Court and Wolf ignored her and gazed intently at the rock pile.

"I think he's in there," Wolf said. The ground was flat and open on their left side back to the command bunker and the radar complex. To the right was scrub and rock formations. He grabbed his AK and said, "I'll try to flank him. You shoot at him, keep his head down. Won't be able to spot the sh.e.l.ls very good if you do that and maybe I can sneak up on him." With a wave he was gone.

Court lay p.r.o.ne at the base of the rocks and sighted his rifle around the right side. He fired off a three-round burst and watched with satisfaction the dust spurt high from the rocks at the position of the spotter. Not bad for 500 feet, he told himself Babs lay behind the rocks at his feet. "Hey," she said and tugged at his pant leg. "What's going on? What are you shooting at? May I look?

May I?" She had the open flask in one hand.

"G.o.d d.a.m.n," Court said and shook his leg as if at a pesky fly as he fired another burst. "Missed." He turned his head back to look at her.

"G.o.dd.a.m.n it, woman, keep your hands off me.

This is real, not some Emba.s.sy movie." He s.n.a.t.c.hed the flask from her and threw it under a bush.

With his head bent, he didn't see the quick movement from the rock pile as a figure in camouflage clothing darted down from the rocks into the scrub on the side away from where Wolf Lochert would appear. When Court turned back he fired another burst at the top of the rocks. He watched for Wolf to appear at the base, and planned to fire many bursts at the top as Wolf started to climb.

He saw a cautious movement where he expected Wolf to appear, and quickly fired several bursts into the rocks as a signal to Wolf to begin his ascent. Wolf crept from the brush and started up the incline, climbing easily, AK at the ready in his right hand. In a movement almost too quick for Court to , the camouflaged figure to the right of the rocks stood up and shot Wolf in the right side as he climbed, and just as quickly dropped down again into the bush. Nearly too surprised to shoot, Court managed to get off the rest of the magazine of the AK as he sprang to his feet and ran in a zigzag pattern toward the rock pile, then punched off the empty magazine as he ran and clawed out another from a pouch and rammed it into position. As he ran, he fired three- and four-round bursts from the hip at the last place in the bush he had seen the figure.

He swept his eyes up to the limp form of Wolf, who had slid down into the dust at the base of the pile. He looked back to where the figure had been. He kept up the constant bursts-still angry at himself to do anything but attack and kill the one who had shot Wolf.

It was his fault. He was so enraged at the girl that if she were to somehow show herself in front of him, he would have shot her too. Now he was in grenade range, and he clawed for one from his vest, but it was too hard to dislodge, then he was almost on top of the position, and before he could think of what else to do, he was there and at his feet convulsing and bleeding from the mouth was a small bare-chested man wearing tiger suit pants. The man looked up through eyes squinted in pain and blood from a head wound that dripped into the channel made by the scar on his left cheek. It was Touby the Curer.

Around his neck was a strap holding the binoculars he used to spot artillery. At his side was an ancient Chinese radio on which he called in corrections.

In a rage, Court shot him in the forehead and ran up to Wolf's body at the foot of the rock pile as another sh.e.l.l thundered in.

He flung himself over the inert man and s.h.i.+elded him from falling dirt and rocks. He lay stunned for a second in the following silence.

"Get your knee out of my back," Wolf said in a voice m.u.f.fled by Court's body.

"Oh G.o.d, you're okay," Court said and rolled off.

"And don't swear, either." The two men sat up. "You get him?" Wolf asked.

..Yeah. It was Touby."

"Figures."

"Where are you hit?" Court asked.

"I'm not. That guy was so close I had to fake being hit until I could figure something out. The fall stunned me for a while, and my leg is still acting up." He examined his body. "Gimme a hand and we'll get back to the bunker."

"We've got about thirty seconds," Court said, checking his watch.

"What about the girl?" Wolf asked.

"Leave her out here. She's the one got you shot." Court almost meant what he said. He pulled one of Wolf's arms around his shoulders and helped him hobble across the compound.

"How so?"

"Got me looking at her when I should have been looking at you." They drew near the brush pile and rocks where Court had left Babs. "Move it," he yelled as they pa.s.sed by. "Let's go." There was no answer. "Oh h.e.l.l," Court said.

Mister Sam opened the door of the bunker and Court pa.s.sed the groggy Wolf off to him. "Where's that dips.h.i.+t broad?" Mister Sam asked.

"I got to go back. I think she's been hit," Court said.

"You got about two seconds," the CIA man warned over his shoulder as he helped Wolf into the dark mouth of the bunker.

Court sprinted to the brush and flung himself flat next to the rocks as the next sh.e.l.l arrived with a bang that shredded the mist. Babs lay as if asleep at the base of the rocks. When the dirt and rocks from the explosion subsided, he rose to his knees and looked at her body for wounds. She was covered with fine dust, but there was no blood. He shook her shoulder.

"Babs? Babs? You okay?" When she didn't answer he put his arms under her body and scooped her up and poised himself ready to run to the bunker. She opened an eye.

"Don't be in such a hurry, lover," she said, her breath sour.

"Why don't we just stay like this for a year or two?"

In answer Court sprinted the distance to the bunker and all but threw her into the door held open by Mister Sam. She caught her balance and stopped next to the radio table. Court pointed his finger at her and said, "G.o.ddammit, stay away from me." He felt his face flame when several of Pearson's men snickered. He turned to Mister Sam and asked, "What's the latest?"

"Notwithstanding that Bunth's man was calling in artillery on us or that Bunth himself no longer answers our radio calls, we have good reports from all over, namely good old Major Hak.

He says none of the bad guys are making it up the karst."

A voice crackled on the UHF loudspeaker. "Eagle Station, this is Spectre Two Two, you copy?"

Court answered the call. "Spectre, this is Eagle Station. Glad you could make the party. The weather's clobbered for the moment here at the site. I don't know how it is to the east.

Check that for us, will you? We got a big gun over there and we want you to kill it. Copy?" All activity ceased in the bunker as the words crackled through the air.

"Spec Two Two copies. Go secure and give me some numbers."

Court switched in the voice scrambler and gave Spectre 22 the estimated azimuth and range of the gun. Spectre called back in a few minutes.

"Eagle, I think we can do you some good. There are plenty of clear areas in the clouds over here. We'll just drive around and keep an eye out for muzzle flashes."

"Roger. They're firing about every two minutes." A heavy boom outside sifted dirt from the bunker roof. "They're still at it," Court said.

A few minutes later Spectre came back on the air. "Ho, ho, and ho.

Think we got a fix on your little problem. We got to stay to the east of them so they don't know we're here and stop firing. Will keep you advised."

There was silence in the bunker as they listened to the running report from the man called the table navigator on board the big C-130 Spectre guns.h.i.+p. He was an Air Force navigator who sat at a console and coordinated all the external sensor inputs with the fire control system to present the pilot with the best firing data available. Inputs included infrared, low-light-level TV (LLLTV),.radar, and a device called Black Crow that detected the ignition coils from piston engines.

He also handled communications with the ground commanders.

"Looking good, here, loooking gooood. I think we've got a fix. Firing now, firing. Loooking goood." There was a pause, then, "Got him, oh boy, look at him cook off. Hey, Eagle, scratch one big gun. What did you say? 133 mil? Well, you can just take that tube from the NVA inventory. Man, is it cooking off. Beautiful."