Shock of War (36 page)

He felt it, though, the earth moving beneath his chest in a long, violent ripple. He watched from his knees, shielding his eyes with his hand. A bank of steam filled the air where the bridge had been. He rose, leaning forward to see through it, then immediately threw himself down, ducking below the tracers from one of the tanks that had already crossed.

A yellow light moved into the space where the bridge had been, crawling forward at a snail's pace. Had the driver not seen the bridge go down? Suddenly the light dropped, the dark shadow behind it disappearing.

Zeus crawled to his right, toward the edge of the ravine. The water was rising rapidly, filled not only by the rain but the runoff from higher ground.

There were figures in the water, and big black boxes—overturned tanks.

Another ZTZ99 started firing from the right side of the ravine, before the bridge. Men moved. Zeus heard shouts on the wind.

Where the hell was Christian?

Zeus heard a motor whine nearby. He looked to his left and saw one of the tanks that had already crossed. It was backing up in his direction. He got up and began to run to his right, trying simply to get out of the way.

A flash of lightning revealed a soldier on the top of the tank. He whirled the machine gun around and began firing into the ravine, raking it with gunfire.

One of the other tanks began returning fire. The tank reversed course, starting back onto the road.

The soldier dropped from the tank.

Zeus found him curled up in the field a short distance ahead. A fresh volley of rain fell in a ferocious swoop, pelting him from all sides as the wind shifted back and forth, unable to decide on which path offered the maximum chance for destruction.

The body didn't move. Zeus reached the legs and pulled himself forward, turning the man over as he crawled next to him.

It wasn't a Vietnamese soldier. It was Christian.

*   *   *

“Hey!” yelled Zeus. “Hey!”

Christian remained motionless.

Zeus pulled himself up to a kneeling position, then tucked his shoulder down into Christian's chest. He gathered the major's legs and rose, staggering in the slippery, wet grass. There was gunfire somewhere—the high-pitched metallic sound of the machine gun cut through the whine of the wind—but he ignored it. Zeus took two steps. Realizing he was heading the wrong way, he changed course and began moving to his left in the direction of the road.

The tank that Christian had fallen from had stopped about twenty yards ahead. Zeus decided it would be safer to pass behind the tank, cross the road, and move toward the spot where the Vietnamese company was supposed to fall back to.

He'd just started behind the tank when the turret began to move. The gun barrel swung in his direction, so close at first that Zeus thought it was going to hit him. He jerked right, nearly losing his balance, then staggered forward, clear of the gun.

A shadow came at him, moving.

Zeus started to move to his right, to get out of the way. The shadow came right at him, materializing into a man. They collided, falling down.

“Leave the tank,” Zeus shouted, figuring that the man was one of the Vietnamese soldiers attacking the tank. “Help me get my friend out of here! He's hurt!”

The other man didn't move. Zeus pulled Christian up over his shoulder. He heard a groan—the first sign of life.

He turned back to the soldier he'd run into. The man was two or three feet away, saying something. In the wind and the rain it was impossible to hear what it was, or even make out the language.

Lightning flashed. Zeus saw an insignia on the man's lapel. He was an officer.

Chinese. With a gun in his hand.

Zeus dove at him, using his body and Christian's to bowl him over. The gun went off near his head, and Zeus felt something burn the side of his face.

There was a rumble. A whistle—the mortars were firing again.

He couldn't see where the Chinese officer was, even though he had to be very close. Still holding Christian over his shoulder, Zeus pushed up to his knees, then to his feet. And began to run with every ounce of his strength. His feet sunk deeply into the soft, mucky earth.

I have to get away from the mortars.

The shells exploded everywhere, fists pounding the earth. Zeus spotted a low mound on his left and headed for it.

It was the house that had been blown up earlier. He detoured right, barely avoiding a crater that had been left by one of the tank shells.

His lungs ached. The rest of him was numb.

His pace, slow to begin with, slacked until he was barely making progress.

A figure rose about thirty yards from him. Another.

“I'm a friend!” he yelled. “American!”

He kept moving forward. They yelled again. Their guns were pointed in his direction.

God, it's the Chinese,
he thought.

Exhausted, he slipped to his knees. As he crumbled, he felt a hand catch him and looked up into the face of Major Cha
Å«
, the translator.

4

The Gulf of Tonkin

And with a sudden crash,
the worst of the storm was over.

The wind, still strong, shifted. The waves, still high, continued to pound. But the
McLane,
struggling for hours in the darkness, stood upright in the waves.

There was no longer a question of survival. The worst of the typhoon had passed.

Silas, still manning the wheel, turned to his crew. A relief team had come up; the seamen who'd been injured had been helped to sick bay.

When? Hours ago? Minutes? He couldn't remember or calculate.

His hands trembled when he took them off the wheel, turning it over to petty officer Gordon.

“Lieutenant Cradle, I'm going below to check on the ship,” he told the officer of the deck.

“Sir.”

It was a good, bracing response. Silas nodded.

Lt. Commander Li met him in the CIC. Her face looked bleached white, except for the purplish welts beneath her eyes.

“Commander, you were right,” he told Li. “I owe you and the ship's crew an apology.”

Her lower lip trembled. She half nodded, then struggled to respond. “Commander, the merchant ships…”

Silas frowned, waiting for the news.

“The ships are three miles from us,” she told him. “East.”

“East?”

“Yes, sir. We're between them and the port,” she told him. “You did it.”

“
We
did it,” said Silas. “Get the boarding teams ready. I'll be on the bridge.”

5

Quàng Ninh Province

Christian was dead.

There was no way of knowing which of the several bullets that had hit him had killed him. Most had left large gouges in his body, thick angry welts.

The hole near the middle of his forehead was small, cut by a 9 mm bullet. Probably the same one that had grazed Zeus on the cheek, though no one would ever know for sure.

For much of the time he had known him, Zeus had despised Christian. He'd been an uptight prig at West Point, an insufferable know-it-all as Perry's aide.

A crazy idiot when they'd escaped through China.

But now Zeus remembered him as a valuable soldier. He'd proven himself on the Hainan mission.

And in China, and again blowing the last bridge. Maybe he'd been the one who fixed the charge—no one would ever know, because the sapper had died as well.

You're not the only nut.

*   *   *

The storm and the destruction
of the two bridges broke the Chinese tank brigade into three different knots. The rising water and flooded fields made it impossible for the tanks to advance. Using coordinates from the company near the second bridge, the Vietnamese began sending 120 mm artillery rounds against the five tanks that had come farthest south.

Their marksmanship left something to be desired. Out of two dozen shells, only one had struck a tank. The commander, who had precious few armor-piercing rounds to begin with, called a halt to the shelling, deciding that his men would do better once the storm subsided. But the shelling convinced the Chinese that it would be foolhardy to remain where they were, and the lead element attempted to pull back. All but one of their tanks floundered in the flooded ravine.

The bullet that had grazed Zeus had done only superficial damage, but it was a wound nonetheless, and Major Cha
Å«
insisted that Zeus go to a hospital to get it cared for. Cha
Å«
was already spooked by Christian's death, worried that General Trung would hold him personally responsible.

“I'll tell him what happened,” Zeus assured the translator. “It's not your fault.”

Cha
Å«
's eyes brimmed with tears.

“The company commander says there is a car we can use in the village about two miles back. I'll bring it back.”

“I'll go with you,” said Zeus.

They left Christian's body in the rain. There was nothing to cover him with.

Zeus and Major Cha
Å«
trudged down the road nearly shoulder to shoulder, silently. When they reached the village, Cha
Å«
asked Zeus if he wanted something to eat. Zeus shook his head. His stomach was wrenched tight; he'd never get anything into it.

What he wanted was to see Anna. He wanted to see her and hug her and hold her in bed, to stay there for days and weeks.

The car wasn't where it was supposed to be. They went to the nearest house and pounded on the door. Zeus thought the house was empty and the village abandoned, but that wasn't the case: the door opened and a middle-aged woman, bundled in a raincoat, appeared.

She knew nothing about a car, but gave them directions to the police station. They weren't of much help. It took nearly an hour before Major Cha
Å«
managed to find a vehicle. The owner gave them the keys, deciding it was safer to remain at home.

They drove back to the company, put Christian's body in the trunk, then reversed course.

A few minutes later, there was a fresh crack in the storm, a loud thud. By the time the second one came, Zeus realized it wasn't thunder—the Chinese tanks were firing their guns at the village where they'd found the car, deciding to take revenge on whatever they could. Surely they were firing blind. Even if there hadn't been a storm, the topography and distance made it impossible to see the village from where they were. The only guidance they had were their maps.

Major Cha
Å«
stepped on the gas.

“They'll kill everyone in those houses,” said Zeus.

Cha
Å«
didn't answer. It was too late to get the people out—the shells were falling rapidly now, and it would be just a matter of luck where they exploded.

Zeus dropped his head on his chest, rubbing the rain from his hair.

*   *   *

Calling Perry to tell him
about Christian's death was the most difficult thing Zeus had ever done. He punched the numbers on the sat phone tentatively, then put it to his ear. He hoped the general wouldn't answer.

Perry picked up on the first ring.

“General, it's Zeus.”

“Major?”

“We stopped the tanks. They're definitely stopped.”

“Good.”

“The advance is definitely slowed. For now at least. It'll take them some time to regroup. They may be able to find a place to get across the fields once the storm stops and the water goes down. But they won't get to Hai Phong tonight. Or probably not tomorrow.”

“Excellent. Good work, Major. How's Christian holding up?”

Zeus couldn't speak for a moment. When he did, his voice trembled.

“Major Christian, sir, didn't make it.”

Perry said nothing. The silence grew until Zeus couldn't stand it anymore.

“He … the Vietnamese put demolitions on one of the bridges and something went wrong. He went back and fixed them,” said Zeus. “We went back. And then, uh, he went into the field. There was fighting there, and then, he was trying to make his way back.”

“Where's his body?” said Perry.

“I have it.”

The silence lasted for only a few seconds, but they were painful to Zeus. Finally, he had to speak.

“Should I bring him to the embassy?”

“Take him to the hospital where you were treated. Someone will meet you there. What shape are you in?”

“I'm fine.”

“Report to me at Trung's headquarters.”

“Yes, sir.”

*   *   *

Cha
Å«
suggested
that they put Christian in the backseat and make it look as if he were injured rather than dead. Once inside the hospital, they could take the body directly to the morgue.

“I would guess that the general does not want people to know it is an American officer,” said Cha
Å«
. “That is why he would be taken to the hospital.”

Zeus closed his eyes as they opened the trunk. A wild thought sprang into his head: it had all been a dream, it hadn't happened, at least not the way he remembered it.

But Christian's body, drained of blood, sopping wet, was curled in the small space before him. In the darkness, Zeus couldn't see his face. He was thankful for that.

*   *   *

By now, the hospital seemed familiar,
as if it were a place Zeus where belonged. A gurney and two nurses met them in the long hall. Zeus stepped back, pushing against the wall as the medical people took over. Water dripped from him to the floor, puddling around his feet.

He watched the stretcher disappear. He kept thinking Christian would rise and hop off.

A hand folded gently around his arm.

Anna!

It was only a nurse. She tugged him lightly.

“Your cheek,” said Major Cha
Å«
. “She wants to see to clean it.”