changed.”
16
A burst of gunfire cut through the weeds. The soldier ducked back around the corner. Zeus dropped to the ground.
The gunfire came from beyond the house. It was from AK-47s. Zeus guessed what was happening, though he couldn’t see — the Vietnamese soldiers had come ashore and stumbled on the men here.
He had their retreat cut off. Zeus edged to his right, trying to work himself into a position where he could get an angle on the Chinese soldiers if they stayed where they were. Dampness seeped up his pants legs, and from his chest around toward his back. The ground oozed with water.
The Chinese soldiers were at the front of the building, behind a barricade or a wall under the porch between the stilts. They didn’t seem to be returning fire.
Were they simply conserving ammo? Or were they out of bullets.
They ought to conserve their ammo, Zeus thought. Sure as hell they’re going to need it.
A low berm ran across the field a few yards away, disappearing into the water on the right. He got up, intending to throw himself against it, but just as he reached it he fell into a drainage ditch that ran along the other side. As he struggled to pull himself against the raised dirt, gunfire stoked up, from both sides this time. Zeus pushed along the ditch until he was parallel with the front of the house. He saw a green uniform moving beneath the porch and fired a quick burst; the man jerked almost upright, then slumped down.
There were two or three men behind him, maybe a fourth. Zeus fired a burst, but couldn’t see into the shadows to even know if he’d hit them.
They didn’t fire back. The Vietnamese stopped firing as well.
The truth was, the Chinese were in a good spot. They could probably hold their position for some time unless the Vietnamese rushed them. And in that case the Vietnamese were sure to take at least some losses.
They hesitated, probably calculating the odds. Zeus looked to his left, toward the back of the house. He might be able to backtrack, and come up from the other side. As long as the Chinese remained pinned down, he could probably sneak close enough to surprise them.
Should have thought of that earlier. Now it would be harder.
There was a shout from the area of the house. Zeus looked back. One of the Chinese soldiers had tied a piece of cloth to the end of his gun, and was waving it in front of his position.
The cloth was green, but it got the message across. They wanted to surrender.
He moved to his right, trying to get into a better position to cover the Chinese soldiers as they came out.
Someone shouted something from the Vietnamese side. There was an answer from the Chinese.
The man who had raised his gun to signal the surrender started moving along the front of the house, toward Zeus, holding the flag. The Vietnamese barked something. The man stopped, threw down the gun, and held his hands high.
Zeus was close enough to see the private insignia on his uniform.
The Vietnamese soldier said something else. The Chinese private began moving out. Two more men popped up and joined him. Their hands were high in the air.
“All right! All right!” yelled Zeus, wanting the Vietnamese to know he was there. “I’m here! It’s Zeus! The American!”
He rose slowly, his AK-47 pointed in the direction of the house. He was ready to drop; he glanced to his right, trying to see if the Vietnamese saw him.
There were two Vietnamese soldiers moving forward in the field in front of the house, sloshing through the water. Four more men were behind them. All had their guns trained on the three Chinese soldiers.
One of the men had been wounded; his arm hung down.
The Chinese soldiers waited. One of them glanced at the body of the man Zeus had shot. He lay facedown in the mud, clearly dead.
They were kids, eighteen maybe at most. They were shivering, probably with fright.
One of the Vietnamese soldiers told them to drop on the ground, and they complied.
Zeus moved to his left, peering toward the bottom of the house to make sure there was no one left inside. He glanced at the Vietnamese soldiers, waved to make sure they saw him, then cautiously moved under the house, his finger resting ever so lightly against the trigger.
It was empty.
He started to relax, backing out.
Something flashed on his right.
He turned in time to see the Vietnamese soldiers who’d come forward to accept the Chinese surrender lace the prisoners with several dozen rounds.
He reminded himself that bullets were more critical than fear.
The Vietnamese were shouting. Zeus remained on his knee. Finally, he heard someone yelling in Vietnamese-accented English.
“Clear!”
Zeus rose slowly. Two Vietnamese soldiers ran up, nodded at him, then went into the underside of the building. One fired into the body Zeus had already killed.
“Don’t waste bullets,” Zeus told him.
He walked toward the front of the building. Eight soldiers were standing near the bodies of the dead Chinese.
“What the hell happened?” demanded Zeus. “Why did you fire?”
“Major Murph!” said one of the team leaders, a sergeant. “Major Murph, you found us.”
“Why did you shoot them?”
“Chinese.”
“Yeah, but they were surrendering. Did one of them fire?”
The sergeant looked at him as if he didn’t understand. Maybe he didn’t.
“You killed them when they were surrendering,” said Zeus.
The man shook his head lightly, not comprehending. It was possible someone had gotten nervous and pressed his trigger. Maybe there were other extenuating circumstances. It was too late to undo now.
Zeus felt his stomach grip him from the inside.
“How many of us?” he said, struggling to stay calm. He raised his hand and made a circular gesture. “How many?”
The sergeant said something in Vietnamese.
“Is this all?” Zeus asked. He circled again with his hand.
“All. Yes.”
“We have a man in that house, over there.” Zeus pointed beyond the field. “
