Shadows of War

still about ten yards from the entrance when a jeep came charging around the corner of the building. General Perry was in the passenger seat.

“About time you got back. I need you, Zeus,” said Perry. “Get in.”

* * *

By the time Zeus and General Perry arrived at General Trung’s headquarters, the U.S. had established a link that allowed real-time satellite data to be displayed on a pair of computer screens. The link came to the barracks via a landline that was strung from the embassy, a precarious arrangement that used up a good portion of the capital area’s available fiber-optic cable. But the real challenge was finding power for the two screens. Though they were relatively small and drew very little current, the electric lines to Trung’s headquarters were still down. A portable generator had been sent over from the embassy; the computer system taxed it severely. In an attempt to balance the load, the lights in the command room, dim to begin with, were completely shut off. The glow of the screens barely illuminated half of the conference table at the middle of the room, and when the image changed, the room temporarily went black.

Still, seeing the pictures was better than hearing the situation described over a phone. Zeus pressed closer to the screen, looking at the satellite photos of the air base at Na San, and of the now clogged road south. A squadron of A-10As, and he could have wiped out half the Chinese armor in a day.

There would still have been a lot left. Swarms of tanks and men were pouring in over the border to the north.

One of the Global Hawks — there were now three on continuous station overhead, authorized by the Vietnamese — streamed live video from the Da River valley. The video showed that the Chinese had not yet adapted to the problem in front of them. They were moving forces down along Route 6 as if the way south were clear, sending very small teams to the east to either probe or act as pickets in case of attack.

“You can turn these off for a while and pop on the lights,” Zeus said after he finished going over the images.

The room plunged into darkness as the gear was unplugged and the lights were reenergized. Zeus felt a little like he was with the American army of 1812, trying to stop the British from ravaging the country while equipped with a thousandth of their resources.

When the lights came on, General Trung nodded at him, encouraging him to continue.

“The Chinese haven’t adapted yet. They may try and cross the reservoir. We know that’s not going to work,” said Zeus. He pointed to the map on the table. “The Chinese are stopped here, for the moment, along Highway 6 before the intersection with 15. They have two choices — they go into Laos, maybe try coming all the way down to Highway 217, or they change their game plan. Which do you want them to do?”

“An attack against our neighbor is always preferable to being attacked ourselves,” said Trung soberly. “As lamentable as it is. But if they try that way, they will face much difficulty.”

“We have cut off the passes at the border, General,” said one of his aides. “It will be a grave for them.”

“I would suggest you alert the Laotians,” said General Perry.

“It has already been done,” said Trung. “The evacuations have begun.”

“Eventually, they’ll come for Hanoi,” said Zeus.

As if on cue, an air raid siren sounded. Zeus gritted his teeth and looked at General Perry. Perry simply folded his arms.

“Continue with your thoughts, please,” said Trung.

“Hit them along the road while they’re stalled, the more often the better,” said Zeus. “Hit and run — Vietnamese style.”

Trung smiled broadly. Zeus suspected that the attacks were already being launched, since he had seen some activity on the Vietnamese side of the line in the Global Hawk video.

“What they will probably decide eventually is to use 113 as a conduit for an attack,” Zeus said, pointing to the east-west highway south of Na San. “It’s the best road in the area, given where their forces are collecting. It’s not as narrow as the others.”

Trung’s staff started talking among themselves. Zeus felt frustrated — Perry’s translator had not been allowed into the room, and in fact it was clear that the Vietnamese really didn’t care to discuss the situation with him; they only wanted him to give them intelligence. Trung tolerates my ideas, he thought, primarily out of politeness.

“General, I have another idea,” Zeus told Trung. “The Chinese haven’t taken Route 109 behind the airfield at Na San. You could get the hills back, and they’d be sitting ducks down there. Just like the French.”

Trung smiled faintly. “Diem lost the battle at Na San.”

“Only because the French could bring in reinforcements and supplies from Hanoi and farther south. Look how far the Chinese will have to come. And you could sit in the hills with shoulder-launched SAMs.”

Trung nodded. It was hard to tell, though, if he was just being polite.

As the Vietnamese staff’s discussion grew louder and more animated, General Perry rose. “General, it would appear that your staff would like to work on these problems without us,” Perry told Trung. “Perhaps my major and I could go and get some dinner.”

“By all means.”

* * *

“Put yourself in their position. Would we be taking advice from an old enemy?” Perry asked Zeus as they made their way back to the jeep.

“They already did,” said Zeus. “They should hit the airstrip. And cut off 113. They have to harass the enemy, hit his supply lines — ”

“One thing I would guess about the Vietnamese,” said Perry. “They know how to run that sort of war. They did it before.”

“They haven’t been on this side of it. And the intelligence is a hell of a lot different now. Communications — ”

“War’s war, Major.” Perry stopped in front of the jeep. “You’re a damn bright kid. I wish I was half as smart as you. But I’ll tell you something — Trung has the whole thing in his head already. I could see it in his eyes. You have to learn to read people. Especially if you’re trying to help them.”

A few blocks from the embassy, Zeus saw a red glow to the north of the capital. The Chinese had struck at the airport again, this time starting a fire in the underground fuel storage tanks.

The embassy perimeter was guarded by Vietnamese soldiers as well as American marines, and even though Perry and Zeus were in uniform, they had to show their IDs to three different people before being cleared into the compound itself. By then Perry was in a bad mood, and Zeus thought he was going to bite the head off the Marine sergeant who came up to the jeep. The marine calmly explained that he was under orders to make a positive, personal identification before allowing anyone through.

“Is this positive enough for you?” asked Perry, leaning from the vehicle and putting his face into the marine’s.

The sergeant stepped back and snapped off a salute, waving them in.

Major Christian met them in the vestibule. “General, I need to talk to you.”

“Talk.”

Christian glared at Zeus, clearly not wanting to say whatever it was he had to say in front of him. Zeus decided he’d hold his ground; he’d had enough of the jackass.

“The CIA has a problem, sir. They need to get a truck up to Tuyen Quang.”

“Where’s that?” asked Perry.

“I know where it is,” said Zeus.

Tuyen Quang was about seventy-five miles north of Hanoi. Still controlled by Vietnam, the city had not been bombed or attacked by the Chinese.

The truck, Christian explained, was needed to rendezvous with a group of SEALs who were helping an American scientist and a CIA officer escape from behind enemy lines. They were supposed to be there by dawn or a little after.

On bicycles.

“Bicycles?” asked Perry.

“Dumbshit SEALs,” said Zeus.