Read Online Avenger by Frederick Forsyth - Free Book Online
Authors: Frederick Forsyth
his retina might be playing tricks. He slithered silently to the corner and stopped, pistol in right hand. The glow also stayed motionless, just round the corner. He waited like that for ten minutes, unaware his frozen partner was out of sight behind him. Then he decided to break the stand-off. He lunged his torso round the corner.
Ten feet away was a Vietcong, on hands and knees. Between them was the source of light, a shallow lamp of coconut oil with a tiny wick floating in it. The VC had evidently been pushing it along the floor to accomplish his mission, checking out the booby traps. For half a second the two enemies stared at each other, then both reacted.
With the back of his fingers the Vietnamese flicked the dish of hot nut-oil straight at the American's face. The light was snuffed out at once. Dexter raised his left hand to protect his eyes and felt the searing oil splash across the back of his knuckles. With his right hand he fired three times as he heard a frantic scuffling sound retreating down the tunnel. He was sorely tempted to use the other three rounds, but he did not know how many more were down there.
Had the Badger and the Mole but known it, they were crawling towards the headquarters complex of the Vietcong's entire Zone Command. Guarding it were fifty diehards.
Back in the States there was, all this while, a covert little unit called the Limited War Laboratory. Throughout the Vietnam War they dreamed up splendid ideas to help the Tunnel Rats, though none of the scientists ever went down a tunnel. They shipped their ideas over' to Vietnam where the Rats, who did go down tunnels, tried them out, found them gloriously impractical and shipped them back again.
In the summer of 1970 the Limited War Laboratory came up with a new kind of gun for close-quarter work in a confined space. And at last they had a winner. It was a .44 Magnum handgun modified down to a three-inch barrel so as not to get in the way, but with special ammunition.
The very heavy slug of this .44 was divided into four segments. They were held together as one by the cartridge, but on emerging from the barrel separated to make four slugs instead of one. The Tunnel Rats found it very good for close-quarter work and likely to be deadly in the tunnels because if fired twice it would fill the tunnel ahead with eight projectiles instead of two. A far greater chance of hitting the Vietcong.
Only seventy-five of these guns were ever made. The Tunnel Rats used them for six months, then they were withdrawn. Someone had discovered that they probably contravened the
Geneva Convention. So the seventy-four traceable Smith and Wesson revolvers were sent back to the States and never seen again.
The Tunnel Rats had a short and simple prayer. "If I have to take a bullet, so be it. If I have to take a knife, tough luck. But please, Lord, don't ever bury me alive down there."
It was in the summer of 1970 that the Badger was buried alive.
Either the GIs should not have been down there or the B-52 bombers out of Guam should not have been bombing from 30,000 feet. But someone had ordered the bombers and that someone forgot to tell the Tunnel Rats.
It happens. Not a lot, but no one who has ever been in the armed forces will fail to spot a FUBAR: fouled up beyond all recognition.
It was the new thinking: to destroy the tunnel complexes by caving them in with massive explosions dropped by B-52s. Partly this had been caused by the change in psychology.
Back in the States the tide of opinion was now comprehensively against the Vietnam War.
Parents were now joining their children in the anti-war demonstrations.
In the war zone, the Tet Offensive of thirty months earlier had not been forgotten. The morale was simply dribbling away into the jungle floor. It was still unspoken among the High Command, but the mood was spreading that this war could not be won. It would be three more years before the last GI would board the last plane out of there, but by the
Ten feet away was a Vietcong, on hands and knees. Between them was the source of light, a shallow lamp of coconut oil with a tiny wick floating in it. The VC had evidently been pushing it along the floor to accomplish his mission, checking out the booby traps. For half a second the two enemies stared at each other, then both reacted.
With the back of his fingers the Vietnamese flicked the dish of hot nut-oil straight at the American's face. The light was snuffed out at once. Dexter raised his left hand to protect his eyes and felt the searing oil splash across the back of his knuckles. With his right hand he fired three times as he heard a frantic scuffling sound retreating down the tunnel. He was sorely tempted to use the other three rounds, but he did not know how many more were down there.
Had the Badger and the Mole but known it, they were crawling towards the headquarters complex of the Vietcong's entire Zone Command. Guarding it were fifty diehards.
Back in the States there was, all this while, a covert little unit called the Limited War Laboratory. Throughout the Vietnam War they dreamed up splendid ideas to help the Tunnel Rats, though none of the scientists ever went down a tunnel. They shipped their ideas over' to Vietnam where the Rats, who did go down tunnels, tried them out, found them gloriously impractical and shipped them back again.
In the summer of 1970 the Limited War Laboratory came up with a new kind of gun for close-quarter work in a confined space. And at last they had a winner. It was a .44 Magnum handgun modified down to a three-inch barrel so as not to get in the way, but with special ammunition.
The very heavy slug of this .44 was divided into four segments. They were held together as one by the cartridge, but on emerging from the barrel separated to make four slugs instead of one. The Tunnel Rats found it very good for close-quarter work and likely to be deadly in the tunnels because if fired twice it would fill the tunnel ahead with eight projectiles instead of two. A far greater chance of hitting the Vietcong.
Only seventy-five of these guns were ever made. The Tunnel Rats used them for six months, then they were withdrawn. Someone had discovered that they probably contravened the
Geneva Convention. So the seventy-four traceable Smith and Wesson revolvers were sent back to the States and never seen again.
The Tunnel Rats had a short and simple prayer. "If I have to take a bullet, so be it. If I have to take a knife, tough luck. But please, Lord, don't ever bury me alive down there."
It was in the summer of 1970 that the Badger was buried alive.
Either the GIs should not have been down there or the B-52 bombers out of Guam should not have been bombing from 30,000 feet. But someone had ordered the bombers and that someone forgot to tell the Tunnel Rats.
It happens. Not a lot, but no one who has ever been in the armed forces will fail to spot a FUBAR: fouled up beyond all recognition.
It was the new thinking: to destroy the tunnel complexes by caving them in with massive explosions dropped by B-52s. Partly this had been caused by the change in psychology.
Back in the States the tide of opinion was now comprehensively against the Vietnam War.
Parents were now joining their children in the anti-war demonstrations.
In the war zone, the Tet Offensive of thirty months earlier had not been forgotten. The morale was simply dribbling away into the jungle floor. It was still unspoken among the High Command, but the mood was spreading that this war could not be won. It would be three more years before the last GI would board the last plane out of there, but by the
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