Shock of War

“I would,” said Kerfer. “But suicide is against my religion. Besides, I gotta go pick up more weapons.”

“Where?”

“Jesus, blanket hugger. I tell you that, I’m going to have to kill you.”

“You bringing back artillery shells? That’s what they need.”

“Not my call.” Kerfer shrugged. “If you’re going to get out there before daylight you better get moving. And tell those guys they’re not hauling rocks. I’d be a hell of a lot more gentle than that.”

Kerfer watched Zeus and the Vietnamese interpreter wrangle their Vietnamese helpers. His plan wasn’t a bad plan at all — if it were being done by SEALs.

But with untrained troops? They might be dedicated, they might even be suicidal, but ninety-odd missiles against a division’s worth of APCs? To say nothing of the odd tank or two that might show up.

Kerfer couldn’t help but admire the major a little. He’d changed somewhat in the days since Kerfer had seen him. Or maybe just more revealed: harder, determined.

Too determined, maybe. He was sliding down a hill Kerfer himself had gone down many times.

Not this time.

Kerfer started to turn back for the C-130, which was waiting for him to take off. He stopped and called to Zeus.

“Hey, Major — ”

“Yeah?”

“You mind if I give you a little friendly advice?”

“Shoot.”

“This isn’t your war.”

Whatever Major Murphy had been expecting to hear, it wasn’t that. He gave Kerfer a puzzled look.

“It’s not your war,” repeated Kerfer. He turned and began walking to the plane, knowing his words would be ignored.

11

CIA headquarters, Virginia

Before she could figure out who the traitor was in Hanoi — and even if there definitely was a traitor, as opposed to a more run-of-the-mill thief — Mara Duncan needed to familiarize herself with what was going on in the country. To do that, she spent her time sitting at a computer in a secure room reading and reviewing data from a wide range of sources.

The room looked very much like an ordinary office suite, with partitions and desks clustered in different areas. Two sections were partitioned off by thick glass from the rest, which made it easier for the people inside to have conversations, though generally they didn’t.

Three analysts and Grease were using the room as well. Grease was the only one who took notice of Mara when she came in, and he barely nodded before going back to his screen.

After clearing her security code and putting her thumb on an ID pad, Mara punched in a temporary password. Within seconds, she was scrolling through a list of recent situation reports and analyses. She started by looking at the news reports that had been filed online over the past twelve hours. It was always best to start with fantasy before proceeding to real life.

The disconnect between reality and what was reported wasn’t surprising, of course, though she hadn’t quite realized how strong the sentiment against Vietnam was in the U.S., let alone realized how it colored the news reporting.

Josh’s revelations hadn’t had much impact. Just within the hour, a statement had been released by several retired generals urging the U.S. to remain neutral.

The statement was a dead giveaway that the highest ranks of the Army were adamantly opposed to any involvement. They couldn’t say that publicly, of course, but it was very unlikely that these retired generals would have gone public without at least some backing at the Pentagon.

Mara moved from the press reports to diplomatic cables, and then on to Army and Pentagon intelligence assessments and estimates. From there it was on to the other agencies, starting with the NSA. Somewhere in the middle of looking at the eavesdroppers’ updates and estimates, she realized the Vietnamese were limiting the movements of their armies in an unusual way.

Several decrypted communications between different Vietnamese commands indicated that a no-travel zone in the north was to be strictly enforced at all costs. At first Mara thought this related to the area south of Hanoi proper, where the command bunkers were, but it turned out to be a large swatch of the Yen Tu Mountains.

An armored brigade being rushed to meet the Chinese advance in the east had been warned away from the area. Which didn’t make a lot of sense.

She pointed it out to Grease.

“Yen Tu Pagoda is very sacred, not just to Buddhists but to all Vietnamese,” he told her. “That was where a famous uprising against the Chinese was centered historically. You can see the symbolic significance.”

“The pagoda is nowhere near the roads they were warned away from,” said Mara.

“Tanks would never make it up those mountain roads,” he said. “They were probably just being practical.”

But a no-fly zone as well?

“Huh,” said Mara out loud. She went back to the computer and started reading more.

12

Outside Hai Phong

The Ilyushin couldn’t handle the weight of all the missiles, and so a second plane was pressed into service. The jet, an old 727 airliner, nearly ran off the end of the short Hai Phong runway as the pilot tried to brake on the wet pavement in the dark. Its tail swung hard to the left, threatening to spin the aircraft onto the grass infield. When it finally came to a stop, one set of wheels was off the runway.

By the time Zeus got there with Major Chau, the platoon of soldiers detailed by General Tri to unload the weapons had managed to push the plane back onto the runway apron. The missile crates had been stacked in the aisle between the seats, wedged sideways so they couldn’t move. Thanks to this, all were intact. Major Chau gave the order to have them unpacked as quickly as possible.

Drawn from volunteers in his regular division, General Tri’s strike force had been assembled at the airport. There were exactly twenty-four soldiers, ranging in age from eighteen to forty-three — a fact that somehow seemed significant to the youngish-looking captain named Kim who led them. He told Zeus proudly that every man had heard of the Americans’ glorious victory against the tanks, and was hoping to live up to his inspiration. General Tri had told them personally that Zeus was one American who would never desert the Vietnamese, and he had proven that with his blood.

Zeus glanced at Major Chau as he finished translating.

“He’s sincere,” said Chau. “They all feel that way. We all do.”

“All right. The first thing we do is divide everyone up into three-man teams,” said Zeus.

“Already done,” said Chau. Captain Kim had even managed to divide the teams up so that at least one man on each team had had some training with antitank missiles.

Zeus showed the men how to set up the launcher. Ideally, he would have had each squad assemble the missiles on their own and take a practice shot before setting out. But there wasn’t enough time for the former, and not enough missiles for the latter. They’d have to learn in the field.

Tien Yen was located beyond an estuary off the South China Sea. There was another large peninsula to the south. Rice fields, probably completely flooded, lay on the south side of the peninsula, which was heavily treed and marshy. Zeus thought they could sail up the far side of the southern peninsula, land near one of the roads to the