Page 57 of Cry Havoc
The ARVN cargo truck attempted to push through, but was going at such a low rate of speed that it came to a stop, its heavy diesel engine straining against the crushed side of the bus.
“Contact,” Tom yelled, jumping to his feet. “Reverse out! Reverse out!”
Tom turned to their six in time to see a cement mixer pick up speed.
“Gunner, contact rear!” Tom yelled, pulling Amiuh down into the deck of the open-air back of the truck.
The .50 gunner rotated the weapon to the rear and opened up on the fast-approaching cement mixer. John Moses Browning’s Ma Deuce was developed as an antiarmor weapon at the request of John Blackjack Pershing near the end of the First World War. There was a reason it was still in service in 1968; she had yet to find her equal. The reverberations and concussions from the muzzle blast hit them like a sledgehammer. The large-caliber rounds tore into the cement mixer’s engine block and then moved to the front window, splintering glass and removing the driver’s head.
The Eve of Destruction had already started to reverse, unaware of what was behind them.
“Hold on!” Tom shouted.
Even though the cement mixer had slowed after the introduction of the .50 caliber projectiles, the combined force of the two vehicles colliding still ejected the gunner from his position behind the formidable machine gun and sent him crashing into the bed of the truck with his passengers.
“Everybody okay?” Tom yelled, his hearing still impaired by the assault of the .50 cal moments earlier.
“Yeah, man,” the gunner said, straightening his helmet.
“Get back on the gun!”
Tom looked at the cement mixer and heard the straining engine of their gun truck.
From the front of the convoy came the sounds of gunfire and the launching of an RPG or recoilless rifle followed by an explosion
You can only deal with one thing at a time, Tom.
One of the MPs held his arm, grimacing in pain as the other stood up to get his bearings.
Have to get that truck out of the way, or we are all going to die.
Tom grabbed the M16 from the hurt soldier and leapt onto the hood of the cement mixer. Clutching the roof with his left hand to steady himself, he depressed the trigger and sent a full-auto burst into the passenger side ofthe cab. Glass can have an unpredictable effect on bullet trajectory, so Tom pushed the muzzle of the rifle through one of the holes in the splintered windshield and ran the magazine dry. Dropping the weapon, he swung himself off the hood, but instead of hitting the street like he anticipated, he crashed into a person, a man with an SKS rifle. The man seemed almost as surprised as Tom.
Get control of the gun.
Tom landed on top of the smaller man, who wore tan pants and a green canvas chest rig over a black T-shirt.
Tom smashed the side of his head into the bridge of the smaller man’s nose and felt the bones and cartilage break as blood began to flow like a faucet, coating the side of Tom’s face. He continued to grind his head into his adversary, hearing other smaller bones break as he trapped the rifle to the man’s chest.
Get off the ground. If he has a friend behind him, you are dead.
Tom chanced a glance up but there was no one else bearing down on them.
Frogman luck.
Instead of going for the small cathouse gun in his pocket, which was smashed up against his opponent, Tom reached behind his back with his free right hand and unsnapped the button on his EK knife. He withdrew the blade and inserted it just above the clavicle at the base of his enemy’s neck. He sunk the sharp blade into the soft flesh, watching the eyes of the man below him open wide in a mix of surprise and terror. That mix turned to fear as the blade sliced through muscles, veins, and connective tissue until it pierced the upper reaches of the heart. Tom continued to apply downward pressure and began pivoting the blade back and forth, tearing the aorta, pulmonary artery, and superior vena cava to shreds. The man’s eyes froze over in a vacant state of horror as life left him, his mouth agape, never having had the strength to cry out.
Might be more assaulters back here.
Tom sheathed his blade and removed the SKS from the dead man, confirming it had a full magazine and that it had a round in the chamber.
He turned back to the gun truck in time to see the .50 gunner’s head explode.
The uninjured MP began firing his M16 down at targets on the opposite side of the cement mixer.
Tom didn’t see Amiuh.
The SEAL pushed to the rear of the cement mixer and cleared the area behind it. He then rounded the far corner and saw two enemy combatants firing up at the armored bed of the truck.
