South China Sea

it’ll give ‘em a nervous breakdown!” Freeman turned to Vinh. “You concur, General?”

Vinh nodded and said something to his interpreter. “The general says this is a good idea but that Chinese nerves are very good. In 1979 they lost more than twenty-five thousand in just three weeks, and still reinforcements came through this area.”

“Well, maybe so,” Freeman answered. “I don’t underestimate them for a second, but chopping up their rail line’ll slow them down — give us a chance to secure the border here.”

“Why,” General Vinh asked, “cannot the American carrier planes bombard the rail yards at Ningming?”

“Politics, General,” Freeman answered. “The White House categorically forbids any bombardment in China proper. They don’t want to risk the war spreading any further than it has already.”

“Is that the U.S. decision or the U.N. mandate?” inquired Vinh’s political officer.

“Does it matter?” Freeman asked them. “Whoever’s mandate it is, I’d get fired if I authorized beyond the border bombing. Only thing we’re allowed to do is send out patrols when our positions on this side of the border line are threatened.”

The political officer looked nonplussed. “But the planes from your carrier, they are allowed to bomb the northern side of the hill. It is very close to the border.”

“Yes,” Freeman said. “But our flyboys’ll be able to drop their ordnance just where we want it.”

“And what if some bombs land beyond the border?”

Cline held up his hands. “One or two won’t start an international crisis.”

“Exactly,” Freeman concurred.

Vinh had such a determination about him that Freeman in private was starting to refer to him as the “bulldog.”

“What will happen if your Special Forces are discovered sabotaging the Ningming-Dong Dang line? That would be considered by your White House and the U.N. as ‘in China’ surely?”

“Our Special Forces won’t be caught,” Freeman reassured him. “USVUN teams I’ll send in will be made up of crack American and British commandos. Special Air Service from Britain, Delta Force from us. They’ll go in NOE — choppers, nap of the earth flying. It’ll be drop in, set charges, and get out. Low and fast, General.”

Vinh nodded. “And what about this—” He momentarily forgot the English phrase he wanted. The interpreter listened to Vinh intently, conferred with their political officer, and when there was agreement, told Freeman, “— these condiments — salt and pepper number two.”

Freeman looked blankly at Cline, who looked just as blankly at Boyd, the press officer.

“Condiments?” Freeman repeated.

“Salt and Pepper,” Boyd interjected suddenly. “Condiments — they mean Salt and Pepper, the two MIAs — that report that came to us from our legation in Saigon — I mean in Ho Chi Minh City — about the two American deserters, one white, one black.”

“Yes, yes,” the interpreter said. “But this name, Salt and Pepper, is taken from long ago when there were two other Americans who came over to our side. This is why we call these ones Salt and Pepper number two.”

“Call them bastards,” Freeman said, infuriated by the possibility, no, the certainty, of Americans who had crossed over. “They must be damn near old men by now — I mean if they went over during ‘Nam.”

General Vinh began to talk, but his voice was drowned out by the sonic booms of the planes from the northern side of Disney Hill. Vinh raised his voice. “What will you do about them if this report is correct about them leading the Khmer Rouge up from Cambodia to attack us on our western flank?” Before Freeman could reply, Vinh went on, “The Chinese would be very happy about this. Two Americans fighting against the USVUN.”

The political officer was nodding vigorously. This topic was obviously of far more importance to him than the immediately pressing military situation on Disney. He spoke rapidly and passionately to the interpreter, who explained the political officer’s position to Freeman and his staff. “Hanoi is very concerned about the Khmer Rouge infiltration across the Cambodian-Vietnamese border while we are fighting here in the far north of our country.”

Freeman was also concerned about a war on two fronts, but he’d also seen photos of the Khmer Rouge’s tortured victims piled high at Tuol Sleng extermination center. He had once told the reporter Marte Price that if anything like the mass murder at Tuol Sleng had happened to a white population, there would have been U.N. action almost immediately. “The Khmer Rouge are the scum of the earth,” Freeman had told her bitterly, “and if I’d had my way, I would have turned Khmer Rouge staging areas into a parking lot, but of course, politics. You see, that would have offended their great ally — China.”

“General Freeman,” Vinh said, his expression of bland noncommitment now replaced with the look of an old warrior who, as hard as he’d fought against the Americans in ‘Nam, had never hated a foe as much as he did the Khmer Rouge. Yet as he talked to Freeman — at times using the interpreter — he was putting this hatred aside. It was not hatred that led him to uncharacteristically plead with his American counterpart, but military prudence. “If the Khmer Rouge are not stopped crossing over into Vietnam, all kinds of insurgents from Cambodia and Laos will be encouraged to start yet another war against the new Vietnam, which will quickly demand more USVUN intervention.”

Freeman knew Vinh was right. It was like one of the old oil change ads for your automobile — a case of “pay me now or pay me later,” the inference being that later would be one heck of a lot more expensive in lives and materiel. Either Freeman stopped them now, or at least made a determined thrust into the Laotian staging areas as an unmistakable sign of the USVUN’s commitment to stopping the insurgency, or he would pay heavily later.

“You—” Major Cline began, then changed it to, “We can’t make that decision, General.” Cline had said “General” in such a way that it was impossible for either Vinh or Freeman to know whom he was addressing. In fact he was talking to both, but was being careful, trying not to offend either one. “General Jorgensen,” Cline continued, “is the only one who can authorize such a move out of our immediate sector.” Cline paused and looked at Vinh’s political officer. “In fact, as far as I recall, Jorgensen would have to confer with the Joint Chiefs and the White House for permission to—”

“Find two of our MIAs?” Freeman interjected, another idea already forming on how to bypass the Joint Chiefs. “American people won’t stand for any delay on that score, Major. Over two thousand POWs and MIAs still missing. You think the American people are going to stand still for one minute if we know where our boys are and we say, ‘Oh wait until we’re finished with the Chinese’? Hell, they won’t put up with that for a second.”

“General, we’re talking about two guys who went over.”

“For what reason?” Freeman snapped. “Those Khmer bastards could be holding dozens of our boys.” Before Cline could answer, Freeman’s voice had taken on a terrible urgency. “By God, Major, these two you’re talking about may have been forced to run with those bastards, for all we know. An old story, right? ‘You don’t help us, we’ll kill your buddies!’ “

“But,” Cline stammered, “you don’t know that, sir — with all due respect.”

“With all due respect, Major, you don’t know the truth of it either.” Freeman looked at Vinh. “Matter of fact, quite a few volunteers in your army were more or less there because of families or friends held hostage.”

The political officer quickly responded. “This was a political necessity — at the time.”

“Oh,” Freeman said, “I see. So that’s what it was.”

Cline obviously didn’t like the turn the conversation was taking. “Perhaps you’re both right,” he put in. “I mean, I see why it’s militarily important to send a strong message to the Khmer Rouge, some of our MIAs involved or not. All I’m saying, gentlemen, is that we’re going to have to go through Jorgensen and the President.”

“Jesus Christ, Major,” Freeman said. “Haven’t you been listening to what I’ve been saying? If those fairies in State and the Pentagon get hold of this, they’ll take forever. Meanwhile we could be taking body blows from the Rouge.”

“Then what do you suggest, General?”

There was a pause as Freeman looked at Vinh and then Cline. “Leave it to me. Meanwhile I want you to make sure our boys stay on the southern side of Disney. Don’t want them getting pulverized by our own TACAIR.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And remember, no one moves forward till 0600. Everybody stays down till dawn. Then we’ll smoke out those who haven’t been blown out.”

“Yes, sir.”