Page 77 of Cry Havoc
“It sure felt like it. Let’sdi di mau.”
Another explosion rocked the building at ground level.
“Hold on,” Tom said, inching toward the shattered window. “We have four men in civies with rifles entering the building. No one else is here, are they?”
“Serrano said it was just us.”
“Roof.”
“Let’s go.”
They had scouted the building as soon as they arrived and noted thedoorway at the end of the hallway that opened into a small utility room with a metal ladder that led to the roof.
They shut the door just before hearing footsteps and hushed voices speaking in Vietnamese.
The two operators hurried to the roof and closed the access hatch behind them. They had identified an external pipe fitting on the building’s east side as a way of emergency egress.
Tom ran across the rooftop in a crouch. The ringing in his ears had subsided enough for him to hear the explosions rocking Saigon. They were punctuated by streams of tracer fire that continued to light up the night.
Quinn scanned the alley below as Tom drew his pistol and took a knee, holding down on the access hatch.
“Down we go,” Quinn whispered, throwing his legs over the edge of the roof and using the pipes to steadily lower himself to the alley.
Tom gave him a good forty-five seconds before holstering the Browning and following him over.
When his feet touched the dirt alley, he immediately drew his pistol and pressed himself against the wall in the shadows next to Quinn.
Without looking directly at Tom, Quinn brought two fingers to his eyes and pointed to the end of the passageway. He then moved his hand to the side displaying a peace sign indicating that he had seen two probable enemy fighters.
Tom knew it was decision time. Were they to make the safe call and fade into the darkness, or were they to go head-to-head with a numerically superior enemy force?
Tom leaned out, peering around Quinn to increase his situational awareness.
The two men Quinn had seen were across the street behind a vehicle. Their attention was on the front of the building.
Without a word, Quinn turned and ran in the opposite direction, staying in the shadows. Tom knew exactly what he had in mind.
They paused at the far end of the alley and surveyed the street. Multiple cars inundated with bullet holes were stalled in the road. Two were burning, the flames illuminating the dead bodies in the others. The door of one was ajar, and a man’s body was sprawled half in and half out of the vehicle. His head was contorted in an unnatural position on the pavement. Glass littered the street. The element responsible seemed to have moved on to their next targets. The scene was devoid of the living.
Quinn sprinted up the street along the dirt sidewalk with Tom close behind.
One block up, they stopped at a corner and pressed themselves to the side of a store that housed a fish market.
The next block up looked deserted.
They continued onward, circling around until they were behind the two men with rifles they had observed earlier.
Tom and Quinn crept forward through the dark alley that opened onto their street. As they got closer, they could hear voices speaking in Vietnamese.
At the edge of the alley, Quinn stopped again, slowly taking an angle that allowed him to see their targets.
He held up the peace sign again, confirming there were only two.
He carefully holstered his 1911 and drew the tomahawk.
Tom did the same, holstering his Hi-Power and drawing the EK fixed blade at the back of his belt.
Quinn nodded, signaling it was time.
