Aside from cuts and bruises, I was basically intact. The question about my testicles I'd leave for later, when I had a chance to check them out more carefully.
The going was a little bit easier nearer the stream, although we didn't dare stay right on the banks. That would have made us entirely too visible from air, and I wasn't certain that just our own guys would be looking for US. However, since we'd heard no signs of pursuit for the last four hours, I was kinda hoping that all the people who should have been looking for us were dead.
We did the nuts-and-bugs routine that they teach you in SERE School, choking down insects and hunting for anything that looked edible. As usual, Gator had studied better in school than I had ? we managed to find enough to eat to at least make us feel full, and not kill us right away. Maybe some of it wasn't edible, but at least we didn't feel hungry anymore.
Buoyed up by feeling full, we moved a little faster now. We were still taking it easy, traipsing along in the thinner jungle that crowded the banks of the stream, but I think we both had a little sense of hope that we might actually make it out. Until that point, I had refused to believe it.
Finally, it happened. I heard noise off to my right and up ahead, and Gator and I exchanged a worried look. 'We need to take cover.'
Gator nodded. 'Over there.' He pointed to a clump of fallen trees. A natural hollow was carved out beneath them. 'There're not a lot of options, Bird Dog,' Gator said acerbically when he saw my doubtful look at it. 'We cover up with some leaves, maybe drag some brush in front of it ? it's the best thing around.'
'Okay.' We hobbled on over there, and stretched out as best we could. I tossed some leaves over Gator, smeared some mud on his face where the sweat had washed it off, then dragged a loose branch in front of the cover. I added some mud to my own exposed skin, then hunkered down next to him and burrowed into the foliage. We waited.
10
We hiked through the dead, decimated countryside for at least six hours. The jungle still smoldered in spots. The stench of the fire had long since infiltrated our lungs, and I no longer noticed it. Off on the horizon, I could see a vague glimmer of green, probably marking out the extent of the forest fire that had raged through our part of the countryside. However, as far as I could see to the west, the devastation was complete.
With Than gone, the men were oddly silent. I'd expected some protests as to my request that we continue west. A few of the men spoke English, markedly better than they'd let on earlier. They translated for the rest of them. There appeared to be a little disagreement initially, but the majority of them were so stunned by the fire and our narrow escape from it that they fell back as soldiers always do on the original plan. West it was, whether Than was there to supervise the mission or not.
In part, I think it was due to a loss of confidence in their abilities. They were skilled jungle fighters, adept at sensing danger even as it approached and seeking cover within the lush vegetation. In the earlier raid, they'd moved silently through the brush to seek out the guerrillas who were shooting at us, without sound or any other indication that they were even there. I'd admired those skills then. But here, no longer in their accustomed terrain, they moved more slowly. No matter that the going was easier, if you remembered to check for glowing embers under your feet. No matter that they could see further ahead, detect any hostile approach before it got to us. All those things that reassured me left them at a loss, uncertain and tentative, as they moved through the blasted landscape.
Whether it was that further shattering of their world or simply the knot of command in my own voice, we continued on as a group.
I tried to ask about Than, but the men's English disappeared as suddenly as it had appeared upon his departure. Whether they knew something they didn't want to discuss with me or were equally as ignorant, I could not tell. Questions about the radio, the one I was now certain they must have, also were met with stares of blank incomprehension. Frustrated, I gave up trying to communicate and simply walked.
I suppose it would have been reasonable to abort my mission at that time. Now that it was past, the terror of the firestorm was fast fading. It is like that with most life-threatening situations, at least those you survive.
I was content to proceed along ? well, perhaps not content, but at least determined.
It was the second air strike that changed my mind.
I heard them before I saw them, the vague, faint whine that indicates an aircraft at altitude inbound. It gradually grew in strength, and now I was certain that I heard the distinctive rumble of Tomcat engines. It shook me out of the course that I'd charted for us, and brought me back to a realization of what my primary duty was. I was an admiral of the United States Navy, not some New Age truth-seeker at liberty to hike this country for as long as I pleased. Bombing runs, air strikes ? there was no justification for me remaining in country. I knew which countries were doing the fighting ? and which side I belonged on. Knowledge of my father's fate had waited for thirty-some years, it could wait a bit longer.
The Tomcats broke over the ridge in a tight bombing formation, the noise pounding at us, increasing in intensity, then suddenly dropping down to a lower frequency as they passed overhead. I saw them fitted out with ground-attack weapons, dumb iron bombs, and a couple of Sidewinders slung on wing tips just in case. No fighter pilot ever wants to go anywhere without some anti-air weapons in his load-out.
They took no notice of us, proceeding inbound on what I knew was a precision bombing run. They bore in over our firescape, then peeled off one by one as they reached an area of green past the horizon. At that distance, I couldn't see the bombs leave the wings, but I recognized from the maneuvers of the aircraft what had happened.
The dull, muffled thud-thud-whomp that came later was all the confirmation I needed. Bombs going off in the distance ? the sound travels for incredible ranges, and there is no mistaking it once you've heard it.
'We have to go back,' I announced, absolute certainty in my voice. 'Go back ? now.' I pointed back the way we had come.
The man who had taken over lead of the unit in Than's absence shook his head. 'West,' he said carefully, mouthing the word as though it were unfamiliar. 'Go west.'
'No, not anymore. Those fighters, see?' I pointed up at the place where the Tomcats had been. 'I have to get back to my ship. Now.'
I was aware that my voice was becoming insistent, demanding, and tried to moderate it slightly. After all, I was dependent upon their guidance and good graces for surviving in this hostile land.
'Go back to town,' I repeated.
With a rough gesture, the man summoned the rest of his troops to him. There was a short, hurried exchange, punctuated by harsh exclamations and angry voices. Finally, he looked up at me. 'No. We go.'
I turned away from them, and made as though to start back down the track by myself, hoping that they would follow.
They did ? but not for long. Two seized me roughly by the arms and dragged me back to the rest of the squad. The leader gazed at me impassively. He pointed west.
Unarmed, not particularly skilled in surviving in the wilderness, I had few choices. It appeared that these men would use force to insure my compliance. As much as I needed to arrange transport back to Jefferson, it looked like I was going west.
We continued on in silence, the balance of power now subtly shifted back to the men who owned this land. I was in the middle of the pack now, surrounded at all times. Two men stayed close to me, evidently with orders to prevent my leaving again.
Another three hours, and we reached the point at which the fire had evidently burned itself out. The damage was not complete now, and tree trunks still stood erect in places. As we moved further west, there was foliage again, and within a short span of time we were back in the jungle. Only the smell lingered to remind us of what had taken place behind us. Another clearing, and a camp so similar that it could have been built by the same people that
