Targets of Opportunity

Chapter TWENTY-FOUR

A combined feeling of relief and tension permeated the air in the Quonset hut. The pilots were as grateful for their safety as they were alarmed at the factors that caused the crash.

Palmer and Austin had had a lengthy conversation about the close proximity of the Communist troops. Both felt they had been deceived by Spencer, or at least had not been told the whole truth. No one had mentioned that Alpha-29 was located in the heart of Pathet Lao territory.

Jimenez and Mitchell, familiar with the region, obviously had known about the risks, but no one had explained the situation to the MiG pilots.

"Cap," Austin's glance strayed to Allison, "we need more troops and firepower here. We're sitting in the middle of a potential massacre, and the Pathet Lao don't operate in compliance with the Geneva Accords. "

Spencer heard the message loud and clear. "That's why we have the security people spread around the compound. Your job," he said without any visible sign of belligerence, "is to fly the MiG, nothing else."

The only sound in the room came from the fan.

Brad's eyes narrowed. "We just got blown out of the sky less than three miles from here. It certainly got my attention, and I think we should reconsider our security options… while we still have them."

"I understand your concern," Spencer replied slowly, and this is a dangerous mission, but you knew that when you volunteered. You're not here in an advisory capacity," he informed Brad, adding, "and you would do well to remember that. Just fly the MiG."

Austin bristled. "May I at least make some suggestions? Just between us?"

"We'll be right back," Spencer announced, sliding his chair back. He followed Austin out the door, and they walked halfway to the camouflaged runway.

Brad was aware that Hank Murray and his men had stopped working, curious about what was happening. When he cast a look in their direction, they pretended to continue with their maintenance chores.

"Captain Austin," Spencer snapped, "you're about a heartbeat away from a one-way ticket out of here."

"I don't really give a shit," Brad flared. "I'm going to tell you what I think, then you can make any goddamn decision you want.

"First," Austin began boldly, "we need at least double the number of troops you've got out here, and a couple of gunships would be nice, if we come under attack.

"Secondly," he continued in a lower tone, "why in the hell do you have a woman out here in the middle of a war zone? Christ, any of us could operate the radios."

Spencer gave him a challenging look. "Allison has a lot of experience with these types of operations, and the two of us are the only ones who have a clearance to receive the strike messages. We're CIA — you're on loan."

Brad paused, then laughed curtly. "Yeah, that makes sense. The rest of us are certainly security risks."

Placing his hands on his hips, Spencer gazed down the runway before facing Brad.

"Austin, I'm going to tell you this just one goddamn time. I'm in charge of this operation, and you are going to get into compliance, or I'm going to ship your ass back to Da Nang."

"I don't think you want to do that," Brad retorted, staring into Spencer's eyes, "because you need me more than I need you, for the time being."

"Don't bet on it," Spencer bridled, then turned for the Quonset hut.

"You must've really hit his hot button," Nick commented while he sat on his cot.

Brad rolled on his back and let his legs dangle from the end of his collapsible bed. "I hope I did. It doesn't take an intellectual giant to figure out that we're sitting ducks if we're attacked… and this is the last place he should have brought Allison."

Palmer's eyebrows lifted. "Do I detect that your budding 'friendship' with Allison is growing into something more than a friendship?"

Hearing a clanking noise, Brad swung his legs around and pushed himself to a sitting position.

"May I come in?" Allison asked, holding two loaded M-16 rifles and two magazines.

"Sure," Nick answered enthusiastically, then slid to the end of his cot. "Have a seat."

"Cap wanted you to have these," she declared, handing each pilot a rifle and an extra magazine.

"Thanks," Brad said, propping his weapon in the corner. "I'll feel more secure," he said with genuine appreciation, "having something other than my six-shooter with which to defend myself"

"That's what Cap thought."

Brad gave Palmer a crooked smile. "Nick, do you know which end to point?"

Palmer laughed amiably and checked the safety. "I'll probably figure it out, smart-ass."

Allison reached into the pocket of her khaki blouse and extracted two containers of first-aid cream. "I got these from our corpsman. He said to apply a liberal amount on your cuts and scratches."

"Thanks," Brad replied, "and hadn't we better give one of these to Rudy and Chase?"

"I already gave a tube to each of them." Allison looked around the disheveled tent, taking in the wrinkled Playboy magazine on the empty ammunition box. The olive-drab canvas tent was army surplus and well-worn. A pair of jeans and three flight suits hung from a line tied along the roof of the shelter. "Who's your interior decorator?"

"We share the responsibility." Brad smiled, applying the cream. "It's a special talent we have."

"Brad," Allison said with a serious look, "do you have a few minutes? I would like to talk to you."

"Sure."

Palmer quietly coughed and got to his feet. "I know when I'm not wanted."

"You don't have to leave," she assured him.

"Actually," Nick confided, "I'm going to see if I can gag down some of the C-rats."

Allison waited until she and Brad were alone, then gazed at him for a long period of time.

"Brad," she said at last, "I know you had a falling-out with Cap… and I've been concerned about it."

Austin silently nodded and placed the top on the ointment container.

"Yes," he responded glumly, "and I suppose I'll have to apologize to him. I've had a lot on my mind, and the crash triggered my pent-up emotions."

Allison sensed that Brad was not going to volunteer much more of his real feelings to her.

"I appreciate your concern for me," she admitted, wanting to touch Brad and confide in him.

"Excuse me?"

"Cap told me about your concern for my safety." Allison waited for a reaction, but Brad remained impassive.

Brad sat back. "And?"

"I told him I want to do my job with the rest of you," she declared, "but I agree with you. We need more security."

He raised an eyebrow. "Did you tell him that?"

"No," she conceded, "but he did confer with the security commander. He's a former marine company commander."

Brad held his response in deference to the experienced ground officer. Although Austin had the fundamental training to be a platoon commander, he had never actually commanded troops in the field.

"Well," he said stiffly, "I'm confident they'll make the right decisions."

Allison studied Brad for a moment. "You mentioned that you've had a lot on your mind. Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not particularly." Brad chuckled. "It's just been one of those days." "It's Leigh Ann, isn't it?" she inquired coolly.

"Yes," Brad answered truthfully, "and you."

Allison felt an underlying excitement. "What about me?"

Brad grew cautious. "Allison, I appreciate your efforts to smooth things over." He rose from his cot. "I'm going to see Cap and apologize." "Okay," she replied, concealing her disappointment. "Perhaps w e c an talk later."

He felt a compelling desire to speak freely to her, but he resisted. "Sure."

The fan was humming at full blast when Brad entered the warm Quonset hut. Hollis Spencer was seated at one of the four radios, hiving a brisk conversation. He motioned for Austin to have a seat.

Brad sat down next to the long table that dominated the middle of the room. He felt conspicuous as he waited for Spencer to conclude his conversation. Brad idly inspected the relief maps on the wall until Spencer signed off and removed his headset.

Austin rose from his chair. "Cap, I want to apologize." He extended his hand. "I have no excuse for my behavior this afternoon."

Spencer shook Brad's hand. "Let's put it behind us. Have a seat, and I'll fill you in on the latest."

After Spencer sat at his desk, he opened a lower drawer and propped his boots on it. "We've got another thirty troops arriving tomorrow afternoon."

"Great." Brad could not suppress his grin. "I really think we'll need them… if anything happens."

"However, the UH-34s — they're scrambling to get another one — will be the only air cover we'll have."

"Cap, I appreciate your efforts," Brad responded, adding wryly, "and we'll do the best we can with what we've got."

Spencer observed Austin, then picked up a pencil and absently tapped the eraser on his desk.

"Brad, I know you've had one hell of a day — all of you — but I'd like to discuss a personal matter," he paused, "if you don't mind."

Austin tensed in anticipation. "What is it?"

"Allison hasn't said anything to me." Spencer said, and smiled politely. "Hell, she doesn't have to. I've known her for a long time, and it is obvious to me, and probably everyone else, that she has fallen for you."

Maintaining his composure, Brad searched for a response. "I recognize that, Cap, but she knows that I have a relationship with someone else."

"Don't get me wrong," Spencer declared, sitting upright. "Whatever the relationship is… is none of my business, unless it affects our mission."

Spencer pulled out his pipe.

Brad started to tell Cap about his walk on the runway with Allison and their discussion about Leigh Ann, but he decided not to. He waited impatiently while Spencer lighted his pipe.

"Brad, I can't monitor your feelings or your actions," he paused to exhale the smoke, "but, believe me, the more you can keep your total concentration on our work, the better your chance of survival."

"Sir," Brad said, wishing there was an easier way to extract himself from the conversation, "I get the message."

"I'm relieved, Brad." Spencer smiled warmly. "Get some rest."

In the damp stillness of the early morning, Brad listened to Nick's uneven breathing. Believing his tentmate was having a nightmare, Brad reached across the aisle and prodded Palmer. Nick rolled onto his side and his breathing smoothed.

Brad listened to the buzzing sounds of the insects and reviewed the events of the last four days. The CIA reinforcements had arrived and the replacement helicopter had been flown to the field. The ferry pilots had remained overnight and flown back on the C-123.

Unable to sleep, Brad gazed at the top of the darkened tent. Spencer had finally been given permission to launch the MiG. Before midday, or shortly thereafter, Brad would be airborne in a MiG-17 over North Vietnam. This was going to be the first testing of the feasibility of Operation Achilles.

He let his mind drift to Leigh Ann, but could not afford to let himself dwell on her. Brad hoped that she would receive his letter and address at the Constellation Hotel in the next few days.

From Leigh Ann, his thoughts shifted to Allison. After his conversation with Spencer, Brad had purposely avoided Allison. He had spent most of his time around the MiG, except for a brief visit to the security command post. He had left feeling a renewed confidence in the combat-experienced ground officer and the men under his command. Over sixty percent of the security detail were former marine infantrymen.

"Ah, shit," Brad swore as he swatted a mosquito on his forearm. He checked the mosquito netting and pulled the drawstring tighter.

Clad only in his shorts, Brad felt sweaty and irritable. He heard Nick stir. "Are you awake?"

"Barely," Palmer uttered, then sneezed. "I hope I'm not coming down with malaria or some shit like that."

"You don't sound like a happy camper."

"This is ridiculous," Nick snorted.

"What?"

Palmer sat up and slapped a mosquito. "I joined the navy to fly from carriers, and I'm sitting in a goddamn mosquito-infested tent in the middle of shitville." He swatted his ankle. "Surrounded by thousands of gooks who would like nothing better than to kill me."

Brad reached up and cupped his hands behind his head. "Look at the bright side."

"Don't piss me off," Nick said curtly.

"You're not damaging your liver at the 0 club bar," Austin stated emphatically. "You'll probably live an extra ten years… if someone doesn't shoot you."

Brad heard Nick thrashing through his belongings. "What are you doing?"

"I'm trying to find my gun," he sneezed again, "so I can blow your worthless brains out."

Brad extended his arm. "Let me bum one of your cigarettes." "Since when did you start smoking?"

"Just give me the cigarette," Brad insisted. "Maybe, if we can create enough smoke, it'll drive these goddamn bloodsuckers out of here."

Nick lighted two cigarettes, handing one to Brad. "Are you nervous about today?"

"Naw," Austin replied, puffing steadily. "I normally stay awake all night."