“Depends on weather. Probably a couple days.”
“We might not have a couple days, sir. They could move the prisoners at any time.”
“We can’t go in blind, son. You said it yourself, they have at least one ZPU-1 protecting the compound, probably more. And if they think you survived, they might be fortifying it even more heavily as we speak. Could be preparing an ambush.”
“Which is why we need to go now.”
“Now?”
“Tonight. There is a crescent moon, which can aid in navigation. If we do a good map study with the pilots, I know we can get in there.”
Tom could feel his temperature climbing, the sick sweat of his fever threatening to overwhelm him.
“We owe it to them,” Tom whispered.
“Walk me through it.”
“We can’t preplan or ask for approvals through Saigon. We all know we are compromised, and it’s likely coming from higher headquarters. This has to be a surprise.
“We launch out of Phu Bai. Give me four Kingbees, one Recon Team per helo. Two Green Hornet Huey gunships from the 20th SOS for close air support. They are out of Nha Trang, so we need to get them up here ASAP. Covey will go in first and mark the one known ZPU-1 position with rockets. We put in a separate counterfeit mission for approval to ensure we have an AC-130 Spectre gunship in the air supporting us out of Thailand. You’ll have to call in a Prairie Fire Emergency and bring in any tac air that’s up. They drop napalm on the mountainside where I identified the ZPU-1. They’ll also conduct runs on these positions here,” Tom said, pointing to three other areas. “Those are the most likely locations for AA. We take them out of the equation and the napalm lights up the night for the pilots. The Green Hornet Hueys take out the guard towers with their rocket pods and miniguns. My helo does a Falling Yellow Leaf directly into the center of the compound, followed by helo two, then three and then four. With me that’s twenty-five guns on the ground. We split into six teams of four. I’ll sketch out the compound and brief each team on their objectives.”
“You’ll be in medical, Petty Officer Reece.”
“Negative. I’ll be on the ground. There’s someone I need to find.”
Backhaus did not need to ask who.
“You can hardly stand up, son.”
“Give me an IV, wrap these ribs, and I’ll be good to go.”
The two men sized each other up. Backhaus, the legendary, aging operator, born to war—and Tom Reece, young, impetuous, but seasoned in the swamps of the south and mountains of the north.
“Come on, Colonel.”
“You are asking me to invade a sovereign and neutral country.”
“We can work in Laos.”
“Not outside of our operational zones.”
“Isn’t that convenient for the enemy.”
“You are also asking me to do this unilaterally, without approvals.”
“That’s the only way it works. Saigon can’t know.”
“Singlaub will have my ass.”
“I don’t think so, sir. When he gave me my Purple Heart in Saigon, he mentioned that he knew my father in the OSS days, that he owed him his life.”
“And you are willing to bet my career on that?”
“You know we have one shot at this. And if half the stories I’ve heard about you are true, I know we are going in tonight. Put up a fake mission for approval in the general area so our air requests are not too out of the ordinary. We can shift them to the actual target area once platforms are in the air.”
Colonel Backhaus looked at his dog, who went from lying down to a sit. The German Shepherd appeared to be at attention. He barked once.
The colonel couldn’t possibly be asking his dog, could he?