Rules of Engagement

Chapter 42

Brad heard Carella light the afterburners as they sped toward a rendezvous with the waiting tanker. "Harry," Brad said, handing Hutton his revolver, "reload yours and keep mine handy."

Repositioning his left arm, Harry turned to Brad. "I hope to Christ they get here before the mortar crew comes back."

"I'm going to tow us out as far as I can." Without warning, something bumped Brad's legs. "Holy shit," Brad uttered in panic.

"What?" Harry responded, frantically searching the shoreline. "What's wrong?"

"Something ran into my leg." Brad brought his legs up under the raft. "Something big." He inflated his life jacket to provide a cushion for his upper torso.

"I'll dump in the shark repellent," Harry offered, searching behind him for the packet. "If we're careful, you can crawl in on my legs."

Brad was tempted to get out of the water but thought about their close proximity to the shoreline. Harry dropped the shark repellent in the water.

"Thanks, but I better tow us out as far as I can. We're sitting ducks if the mortar team comes back."

Brad glanced out to sea. He did a double take when he saw the bridge and mast of a large ship. The vessel was approaching them at high speed.

"Harry, we've got company coming."

"Where?" Hutton responded, yanking his head around to see where Austin was looking. "I hope it's one of ours."

"If it isn't," Brad peered back toward the beach, "we can kiss it good-bye."

Harry grimaced, then turned his head to meet Brad's eyes. "I wish I could help you."

"You are helping. As soon as you hear the helos, toss out the dye marker and light a smoke flare."

"I've got 'em ready."

Hutton gingerly propped himself up. "Where are those goddamn helicopters?"

"I don't know, but things don't — sonuvabitch!"

"What?" Harry asked, wide-eyed with fear.

"Something just bounced off my right leg." Brad thrashed the water, towing the raft as fast as he could swim. His heart beat so hard he could feel constriction in his chest. Christ, am I going to have a heart attack?

After seventy yards, Brad slowed to a steady pace. "Harry," he gasped, "if you see anything break the surface — dorsal fin, anything — call it out but don't shoot it, and get ready for company in the raft."

"Okay," Harry replied, then froze in horror. "Shit! We've got big trouble."

Brad slowed and stared at two North Vietnamese patrol boats. They were accelerating from their concealment behind a fleet of fishing boats. At full speed, the Swatow-class gunboats were turning directly toward Brad and Harry.

Austin searched the skies, hearing the familiar sound of the big radial engines in the A-1 Skyraiders. "Call RESCAP and light the flare!"

He felt something strike his left leg. Brad churned the water while he quickly positioned himself at the rear of their raft. "I'm getting in!"

Harry grasped the air chamber and leaned back to balance the unstable dinghy. He braced his flight boots inside the aft section, locking his knees. Brad thrust his body upward, pulling himself into the raft. His helmet hit Hutton in the chest.

Aware of a deep, resonant sound in the distance, Austin and Hutton were startled by a thundering impact near them. A coastal battery had opened fire at their bobbing raft.

Brad heard another loud report. He looked over the front of the raft to see the ship that had been speeding toward them. He judged it to be two miles from the shore.

"Harry, a destroyer… thank God." Turning quickly to see the ship, Hutton almost tipped over the dinghy.

The American destroyer captain, risking his vessel in the shallow waters, was turning broadside to the beach and had commenced firing at the shore battery.

Brad clutched Harry's good arm and shifted to see the North Vietnamese patrol boats. The two craft were side by side, less than a mile away.

Brad and Harry both heard a whistling sound a second before another large shell exploded beside them. The concussion from the impact lifted the raft out of the water and tossed both men into the sea.

Stunned by the blast, Austin popped to the surface and grabbed Hutton in a lifeguard grip. "We've got to get away from the raft," Brad sputtered.

Coughing up brine, Harry moaned in agony. "We're not going to make it, are we?"

"Yes, goddamnit," Brad bellowed in pain and frustration, "we're going to make it."

Austin was fighting not to succumb to his overwhelming fear. Choking, he towed Harry twenty yards from the clearly visible dinghy. He looked around, desperate for assistance. He glimpsed a swarm of RESCAP Skyraiders in the distance, then heard the clattering of a Seasprite helicopter. He saw a second helicopter in the distance.

The A-1 Spads were circling the downed Vigilante crew, but the first rescue helicopter was racing toward their raft. Brad shouted with joy and looked back toward the gunboats. They were separating to set up a cross fire at the Seasprite.

"Is that a helo?" Harry gasped.

"Yes," Brad answered, glancing at the destroyer in the distance. The slowing ship was pounding the shore installation into oblivion.

"Come on," Brad coaxed the helicopter pilot. "The gunners are almost on us."

The Seasprite sped toward them, then slowed while a door gunner began firing at one of the patrol boats. After stabilizing over the Phantom crew, the pilot lowered the helicopter near the water.

The spray lashed across Brad's face, stinging his eyes and making breathing difficult. He was having a hard time holding onto Hutton.

Hearing automatic weapons firing, Brad held Harry tightly and twisted to see which direction the gunboats were heading. Staring in shock, Brad watched the two craft charge toward the Seasprite. The North Vietnamese boats opened fire, walking the machine-gun shells across the water and into the Seasprite.

To his horror, Brad witnessed the pilots slump forward as a man in a wet suit leaped from the helicopter. Black smoke streamed out of the exhaust and whipped below the rotor blades.

The helicopter drifted sideways, tilted on its side, caught the whirling blades in the water, then violently crashed into the sea.

Petrified, Brad stared at the wreckage and renewed his grip around Harry. "Oh, God… no."

Aware of the shells slamming into the water, Brad darted a look at the closest gunboat. He felt a sledgehammer blow to his helmet, knocking him loose from his friend. Brad yanked the lanyard to inflate Harry's life preserver, then slumped facedown in the sea.

Three A-1 Skyraiders roared low over the water, firing pods of rockets at the North Vietnamese gunboats. One craft blew apart, sinking stern first; the other patrol boat turned and sped for shore.

The rescue swimmer, slightly injured when he had leaped from the crashing Seasprite, lifted Brad Austin's face out of the water. He tugged him next to Harry Hutton, hooking them together.

The swimmer, glancing at the second helicopter, checked on the pilot. The machine-gun shell that had ricocheted off Brad's helmet had temporarily knocked him unconscious.

Gagging, Brad expelled a mouthful of seawater, then coughed to clear his esophagus. Gasping, he sucked in air and stared, confused, at the young man who had saved his life.

The swimmer grabbed Brad's life preserver. "I'm on your side! You're going to be okay!"

The Spads pulled up in a wingover and rolled in on the fleeing vessel, strafing the boat with 20mm gunfire. After a third pass, the patrol boat slowed to a halt. The panicked crew jumped overboard when they saw the Skyraiders dive again. The lead RESCAP pilot sank the Swatow with two 500-pound bombs.

The second Seasprite moved into position and hovered over the three men. The swimmer unhooked the crew's life preservers as the rescue sling was lowered. Hindered by the turbulent rotor wash, the swimmer placed the sling under Brad's shoulders, then hooked the D ring on his torso harness to the cable.

After Brad had been hoisted aboard the helicopter, the swimmer hooked himself and Harry to the cable. As the hoist operator lifted the pair from the water, Jack Carella and Ernie Sheridan made a low pass, rocking the Phantom's wings.