Cowboy

[Robbie C.]

Another of my backstory excursions into why Sonny is who we meet when the series starts. As the title implies, I'm sort of looking at his cowboy tendencies and how he might have gotten 'hooked on the action.' This one involves Sonny, Robbie, and David (from Vengeance is Mine) in Da Nang and Sonny's first real firefight. It also has a guest star.

 

The sun backed down through Sonny Crockett’s steel helmet, but he didn’t dare take it off. Unlike some of the other men in his company who took their chances with just the fiberglass helmet liner he paid attention to the gunny’s growled warnings. Better to sweat more than to have his head blown off.

Robbie Cann chuckled and pushed his own helmet back on his head. “See Gunny got to you, too.”

“Yeah. Hard to ignore the old cuss when he’s two inches away from your face and yelling at you.” Squinting against the glare, he looked down the road. “You sure those bozos said they got their stuff down here?”

“That’s what they said. Claimed a guy from some Headquarters unit was selling frags. They didn’t even know if it was ours or the Third Marine Division.” Robbie’s face froze in a pained glare. “Guess the gun bunnies from 11^th Marines wanted to hit a sergeant they didn’t like or some crap. Good thing they were so high they thought a yellow smoke grenade was a frag.”

“Yeah.” That was the part of his job Sonny hated. Sweeping up the trash support units were starting to scatter with greater frequency around the division’s rear areas and Da Nang. The kind of trash that saw any MP as a valid target.

He and Robbie had been in-country for just over three months and were just starting to get the hang of things. Which districts were safe and which ones you only went into with two gun jeeps and a full crew. How the local VC liked to take runs at the perimeter wire around the sprawling Da Nang airfield. And that you really had to worry when the NVA dipped out of the mountains to try their hand at a sapper attack or three. Still, he couldn’t complain. It was what he’d volunteered for.

Robbie looked over and grinned the same shit-eating grin he’d cracked on the practice field back at the University of Florida. “But this is what we signed up for, ain’t it?”

“You said it, partner.” Even though they were both cherries, for reasons known only to themselves the battalion admin section had let them partner on jeep patrols after the first three weeks. Neither man complained; Sonny’s first partner had been drunk most of the time and counting the days until he rotated home, and Robbie’s had been a grizzled old staff sergeant more interested in sampling the wares at the whore houses than he was showing a new guy the ropes. Still, they’d learned form bull sessions in the barracks and long night shifts on airfield guard. And they’d gone out on a few reaction force runs. Their unit, the 1^st MP Battalion, provided quick reaction forces to convoys and other U.S. elements in and around Da Nang, and there was always time to learn on those runs.

Robbie reached for the radio microphone clipped to the jeep’s radio. “Charlie Pappa Niner is in position.”

“Copy that, Charlie Pappa Niner.” Corporal Jasperson’s voice was crisp even over a crappy radio frequency. “Stand by. Over.”

“More hurry up and wait shit.” Sonny kept squinting against the glare, trying to see into the second floor windows of the low buildings around them “More like sit here with a damned target taped to our chests.”

“Just keep it cool, Sonny. We ain’t on the field any more.”

“I know, Robbie. But something just don’t feel right. Like that time in Jacksonville when the frat guys jumped us outside that bar.” He felt the skin on the back of his neck twitch like a spider was crawling over it. “Something just ain’t right. What’s missing?”

“Kids. There’s always kids on this damned corner.” Robbie keyed the mic again. “Charlie Pappa Niner for Charlie Pappa One-Two. Something ain’t right over here. No kids. Over.”

“Copy that, Niner.” Jasperson’s voice was still crisp, but there was a new edge to it. “Seven, link up with Niner.”

Sonny reached into the back of the jeep for his M-16 as he heard the other gun jeep acknowledge the new order. “Seven? Ain’t that McAllister and the new cherry?”

“Yeah Conner I think his name is.” Robbie looked at the M-16. “That feeling that strong?”

“Yeah.” Sonny pulled back on the carrier handle, racking a round into the chamber. “It is.”

“Good enough for me.” Robbie pulled out his own M-16. “Where’s it coming from?”

“Second house on the left. The one with the open second floor window and curtains. No one else has curtains.”

“No shit.” Robbie swept his gaze over the buildings. “Got another one down a building but on the third floor. Same deal.”

The radio crackled to life. “Niner, Seven. Two minutes.”

Sonny keyed the mic this time. “Copy that, Seven. Be advised possible ambush. Over.”

“Definitely something in the far building. I keep seeing movement. Can’t tell who or who many, though.” Robbie started to reach for binoculars but pulled his hand back. “No reason to tip ‘em off just yet.”

Sonny nodded, feeling the nerves bundling in the pit of his stomach. He’d done this before…in training. He and Robbie had made their share of arrests, and popped off magazines with everyone else in the Mad Minutes on the airfield bunker line. Hell, they’d even shot off ammo into some hedgerow or another as part of a convoy reaction run. Just shooting where some screaming officer or driver had pointed. But this…this was different. He looked over at Robbie. “This might be it.”

Robbie nodded, putting on a brave face. But Sonny could see the fear in his eyes, knowing it matched his own. “Yeah. Never thought it would take this long, though.”

“Yeah.” Sonny didn’t know what to say. Him, mister big wide receiver, the man always ready with a comeback or trash talk on the field. And all he could do now was feel sweat running down his body and the heat wrap itself around him, competing with fear for domination of his heart and soul. Still, he had to say something. “We got this, Robbie.”

“Yeah. Be better with more guys around, though. All these gooks make me nervous.”

“Yeah, but that’s another bad sign. No kids and the ones that were here are starting to scatter. Best watch those windows.”

“You think it’s VC?” Robbie had his M-16 partway to his shoulder, and Sonny could see his thumb on the fire selector, ready to shove it from safe all the way to rock ’n’ roll.

“Your guess is as good as mine. I wouldn’t think some pogues from a supply battalion would mix it up with us, but things are gettin’ crazy in the rear.” He was about to continue but stopped and brought up his own rifle. “You see that? Second floor of the first building?”

“Yeah. Looks like an M-16 to me. But with all that damned glare it could be a Red Ryder BB gun.”

Sonny chuckled in spite of himself. Leave it to Robbie to lighten things up. Back in the huddle he’d been the first to make some crack about how the opposing quarterback’s girlfriend wasn’t as good as his mom in the sack. And he’s say the same thing at the skirmish line. Who knows how far they’d have gone if they hadn’t decided they owed their country something? Sonny shook his head. Deep down he knew it wouldn’t have been far. They were too small, and he was too slow for the pros. And if they had stuck with football they’d never know.

“Seven’s comin’ behind us.” Robbie’s words reached his ears at the same moment he heard the jeep’s straining engine. It slid to a halt in a rolling cloud of dust and Lance Corporal McAllister jumped out of the driver’s seat, his M-16 already in hand. Trailing along behind was a dusty private clutching his M-16 like he’d been trained but not quite sure what to do with it or where to point it.

McAllister looked back with a grin. “Come on, Conner. We don’t want to miss the fun. Make sure that Mattel marvel’s on safe and you got a mag loaded and ready. I don’t care what Gunny says back at the airfield. Out here we roll with mags in.” He looked back at Sonny and Robbie and sent a stream of dark tobacco juice into the dust of the street. “What you got cookin’ over there, boys?”

“Crockett’s got one of them feelings, Mac, and I think he’s right. We got movement on the upper floors of two of the buildings over there, no kids on the street, an’ the adults are busy headin’ for the hills.”

“And you were down this way why?”

Sonny spoke up. “We had a report of a deal going down for some frags. Some head we busted from the 11^th Marines. One-Two sent us to check it out.”

“Course he did. Why go have a look when you got two privates who can do it for you?” McAllister grinned, dried dust flaking off his thin face. “Conner, stick close to the boys here. You might learn something.”

Conner nodded, his freckled face still pale under the helmet. “Aye, aye, lance corporal.”

“You can call me Mac out here. But we gotta check this out, and four sets of eyes are a damned sight better than two. Which buildings you think have company?”

Sonny pointed them out. “Second floor on the first one, maybe the third floor on the other. Robbie saw what looked like a weapon in the first window. But we have no ID other than that. It could be VC, cowboys, deserters. No way to tell.”

“Well, shit. Course there is.” McAllister stepped around the jeep, his M-16 loose in his right hand with the butt resting on his narrow waist. “You in the houses! Come on out! We know you’re there, an…”

A wild burst of M-16 fire shattered the quiet of the street and sent the remaining civilians scattering. Sonny and Robbie took cover behind their jeep, making room for Conner as he sprawled for shelter. McAllister sneered at the building. “That’s some damned shitty fire, even for pogues.”

“Go to hell, pig!” The shout echoed from the first building, accompanied by another burst.

McAllister brought his M-16 to his shoulder, squinted down the sights, and squeezed off three single shots in quick succession. Someone screamed in the darkness of the room, and an M-16 tumbled out to land in the street. “You first, asshole!” he shouted before sauntering behind his own jeep for cover. Sonny could only stare open-mouthed as the lance corporal keyed his mic. “One-Two, be advised Seven and Nine are in contact. Shots fired. One hostile WIA. They’re using M-16s.”

The radio crackled. “Can you confirm if they’re American?”

“Negative. They was cussin’ me in American, and the rifle’s one of ours, but some of the gooks speak good English. We’ll clear the buildings and find out for you.”

“Wait one. Six and One-Zero will close in and set up containment. We don’t want these guys getting away.”

“Copy that. Waiting one and then moving. Seven out.” McAllister released the mic key with a snort of disgust. “That asshole always waits too long and the bad guys get away.”

Sonny nodded. “Let’s do this.”

Robbie nodded his agreement. “Stick close to me and Sonny, Conner. You’ll be ok.”

“Anything goes wrong just tell ‘em I ordered you to go. What are they gonna do? Bust me down to private again? Hell, I’d have the stripes back in two weeks.” McAllister looked at the open street. “Conner and I will cover you two to the door, then you cover us as we cross.”

Sonny nodded, his fear being blasted away by adrenalin. He’d been hooking from the first shots. “Just like practice, Robbie. Sprint drills.”

“With a damned flack jacket on.” Robbie grinned. “Bet I still beat you there.”

Gathering himself, Sonny took a good look at the doorway and launched himself from behind the jeep. At first his jungle boots scrabbled on the dirt of the street, but then he found purchase. His knee twinged, a reminder of the light sprain he’d turned into a ‘career ending’ injury to spare his family and keep his enlistment hidden. But then his legs started working, his upper body moving and air moving through his lungs as he took deep, gasping breaths of thick Vietnamese air. With each step he tensed, expecting to feel something as bullets tore into his body. But there was nothing. Only a thud as he hit the deck just inside the shelter of the building’s entryway. Robbie slid in next to him, followed a long second later by a delayed burst of fire.

Robbie gasped in the air just like he was. “Maybe we shoulda left someone with the jeeps.”

“Too late now, pal. Get that 16 ready. We gotta cover Mac and the cherry.” Sonny brought his own M-16 to his shoulder and leaned out, searching for the suspect window. “Go!” he shouted.

“Damn it!” Robbie leaned out and triggered off a short burst, the spent brass sparkling in the afternoon sun as he put rounds around the window. “Couldn’t let me get set, could you?”

“Nope.” Sonny triggered off his own burst, looking over to see Mac and the cherry sprinting across the street. There was a flash from a third floor window of the other building, and fountains of dust and rocks marked where a burst went well behind the two running Marines.

Conner slid in like a base runner stealing third base. “Shit! Shit!”

McAllister slowed his pace just before the doorway and walked in, his M-16 at the ready. “You ladies ain’t cleared the building yet? I thought all you college boys were over-achievers and shit.”

Sonny shook his head. “Didn’t want you to miss all the fun, Mac.” Now that they’d gone to cover the street went quiet. Traffic continued to roar and honk a few meters away, but their little corner of Da Nang resembled a graveyard. The weapon that had fallen from the upstairs window lay in the dust, the plastic hand guard shattered by one of McAllister’s bullets.

Robbie got to his feet. “If you two are just gonna stand there and hold hands, I’ll take the cherry and clear the floor.”

“My name’s David.” Conner found his voice as he scrambled to his feet.

“Cool, David. I’m Robbie. That goof over there makin’ eyes at Mac is Sonny. Let’s do this.”

Before Sonny could open his mouth Robbie was through the door and up the stars, Conner hot on his heels. Typical damned Robbie. Hot-headed as ever. Looking over at McAllister he grinned. “Let’s go keep ‘em company.”

“Yeah. We don’t know how many’s up there. Shame to lose the others, though. They’ll he long gone before those other boneheads get here.”

Sonny’s boots echoed off the stairs as he went up two at a time, his heart pounding and the adrenalin coursing hot through his veins. He could hear Robbie and Conner up on the second floor, Robbie shouting something in the featured Vietnamese they’d learned before shipping out. Then he repeated it in English. “Military Police! Open the damned door or we’re breakin’ it down!”

Coming off the stairwell he saw the two men about halfway down the hall. Robbie had played it smart; he was on one side of the door and Conner on the other. His helmet slanted down across half his face, and he was grinning as he flashed Sonny a thumbs-up. “You’ve been warned, asshole! We’re comin’ in!”

“Fuck you, pig!” It was the same voice they’d heard earlier, though it sounded thinner now. A shotgun boomed inside the room, sending splinters and buckshot arcing through the stale air in the hall.

“Thanks for opening the door, numbnuts!” Robbie gave what remained of the door a swift kick, then rolled past Conner as the shotgun boomed again. Wide-eyed, Conner looked from the door to the wall and back again, trying to decide what to do.

In this close Sonny didn’t trust the M-16. Slinging it over his shoulder, he hauled out his big Colt .45 and jacked a round into the chamber. Behind him he heard McAllister doing the same thing. Made the right call he thought with a smile. Mac patted him on the shoulder as he moved by. “Follow my lead,” he said, moving past Robbie and Conner to the doorway. “Last chance! Throw down your weapons!”

“I said…” Whatever the man was going to say disappeared in two deep booms from McAllister’s Colt as he charged into the room. Sonny was right behind him, his own pistol following his eyes and he moved. One man collapsed in a pool of blood in the middle of the room, the other was trying to touch the ceiling with his outstretched fingers. “Don’t shoot, man! Jesus Christ, don’t shoot! This weren’t my idea!”

Mac looked at the body and flipped on the the safety of his Colt. “Crockett, let’s have a look around this shithole. Cann, you and Conner cuff this piece of shit and make sure no one steals the body. Might want to police up that 16 if it’s still in the street, too.”

They swept each room of the four room apartment and one of the connecting ones for good measure. Sonny noticed there were no Vietnamese in either apartment, and the ones in the building stayed behind their doors and didn’t get involved. An open door in the second apartment stood in mute testimony to at least one person’s escape, but they hadn’t been able to take much with them.

The two bedrooms contained nothing of interest aside from empty beer cans and whiskey bottles. Mac grinned. “Looks like these assholes been AWOL for at least a couple of weeks.”

“What makes you think they’re AWOL?” Sonny poked around the bunched-up poncho liner on one of the beds and grinned when he turned up a .38 revolver likely stolen from one of the flyboys out at the airfield.

“You really think their hair could get past any Gunny in the Corps, even in some jacked-up pogue unit in the rear?” Mac chuckled. “Naw. These cats have been AWOL for at least that long to get such righteous mustaches goin’.” He grinned at the man in handcuffs as they passed back through the main room. “Ain’t that right my brother? And think twice before you say fuck you.”

Sonny poked around in the second bedroom, freezing when he saw a wooden crate sticking out from under one of the stolen cots. “Mac, we got a grenade crate in here.”

“Don’t touch it! I’ll go call in EOD. Can’t take a chance the damned thing’s wired.”

 

The three privates linked up at the enlisted men’s club at the Da Nang airfield after hours of writing reports and handing off their prisoner to grim-faced NCIS agents who’d taken a chopper in for the occasion. Mac was off somewhere doing extra paperwork, and they’d all had to deal with the lieutenant’s “you didn’t wait for backup” speech.

David took a deep drink from his beer. “It always that hot around here?”

Sonny shook his head, feeling the not quite cool beer hit the back of his throat. “Naw. Normally we’re just working the airfield permitter. Sweat your ass off in a bunker day or night.”

Robbie chuckled. “At least at night you can shoot off flares. We haven’t done much street patrol, honestly. Been on one or two convoy reaction runs, but that’s just shootin’ into the bushes once the VC have already split.” He shook his head. “We should have had more of those bastards today, though.”

“Don’t look at me, pal. You’re the one who went runnin’ up those stairs like his ass was on fire.”

“Hell, I just didn’t wanna get trampled by Mac. He was all set to go, too.”

“Yeah, you’re right there.” Sonny looked around, feeling the music thumping through the club’s sound system. There were a few Air Force guys toward the back, but this was mostly a Marine club.

David looked around. “What about that guy he shot?”

“The one who tried to blast us twice with a shotgun?” Robbie chuckled. “When those guys went AWOL they stopped being Marines and started being common criminals.” There was something in his voice and eyes that gave Sonny a moment of pause. “I know that kind. They don’t come back then.”

“Yeah., but…I ain’t never seen someone shot before.”

“Neither have I.” Sonny shook his head, trying to push the image of blood spraying back to the far corners of his mind. “It was a damned tough thing, but it was either him or us. If he’d have gotten to those grenades…”

“Poof!” Robbie waved his hands. “We’d be gone like this beer is. You two want another?”

Sonny nodded, and once Robbie forged off through the crowd he turned to David. “Yeah. I don’t make sense most days to me, either. But eat the apple and fuck the Corps, I guess. We just do our jobs and make sure we get home at the end of the shift.”

“Does it ever get easier?”

“I’ll let you know when I find out.” Sonny laughed. “1^st MP Battalion’s a good unit, though. Least from what I can see. Those pogues over in 3^rd MPs get all the shit jobs, and we get to mix it up a bit.”

David looked around, then lowered his voice. “I wanted 0311. Infantry. But I had college credits so I drew 5811.”

“Yeah.” Sonny had no idea what Robbie had wanted, even though they’d enlisted together. They’d both talked about military police so they’d have jobs when they got out, but he always suspected Robbie and tried for something else. For his part, Sonny figured a cop would always have a job. And as ax ex-ball player who’d majored in partying and panties, there wasn’t some degree he could fall back on.

David narrowed his eyes. “You volunteered too, didn’t you? You and Robbie both?”

“Don’t let it get around, but yeah.”

“It’s cool. No one’s gonna hear shit from me. But I figured there was a reason I liked you two. I just…” his eyes shifted away. “I just felt I had to prove something to myself.”

“I get it, man. I really do. I played college ball. So did Robbie. We were good, but not pro good. Not really. And it just felt wrong…sittin’ at the University of Miami chasin’ pussy and drinking beer while guys I grew up with were getting drafted and sent home missing parts or just plain dead.”

“Yeah. I was in school, too. Twenty-eight, married, a kid, the whole thing.” He shook his head. “But it all felt fake, you know?

“Man, you don’t look twenty-eight.”

“And if you call me Pops I’ll shove a K-Bar up your ass so far you can…”

“Use it to pick your teeth. At least try to steal Gunny’s better lines, pal.” Sonny chuckled. “But no one’s gonna hear it from me.”

The next morning found them nursing hangovers and drinking coffee in the battalion mess hall. Rubbing his forehead with two fingers, Sonny looked down at the mushy reconstituted eggs on his tray and pushed it away. “Toast and bacon’s gonna do it for me this morning, boys. That and coffee.”

Robbie nodded. “Same here.”

David grinned, reaching over. “I’ll take yours then, guys.”

Sonny shook his head. “I don’t get it. You drank more than we did. What the hell’s your secret?”

“Practice.” The red head grinned again, showing even teeth. “Still, you’d think a supply command could get better beer.”

“They do. It just gets funneled to the officers’ and senior NCOs’ clubs. Or sold to the gooks by some crooked clerk or another. Just like that stuff we recovered yesterday.” Sonny leaned in. “You think we’ll ever hear about that again?”

Robbie shook his head. “Doubtful. You know the rule. Lift the rug and sweep the shit under it.”

“But this isn’t stolen palettes of Coke. And they had M-16s, too. And that shotgun looked like it came from our arms room.”

“All the more reason to keep it quiet.” Robbie put down his coffee cup. “Look, Sonny, I get it. You want to do the right thing. But the Corps ain’t always about the right thing. It’s about protecting itself, just like any other big group. Hell, you remember that quarterback we had? Everyone knew he raped that girl. But the school didn’t do a damned thing. Hell, coach didn’t even leave him on the bench. Because he could throw and make them look good all was forgiven.”

“Don’t remind me.”

“It’s how it is. That didn’t stop me from hitting him damned hard in practice more than a few times.”

Sonny grinned. “I remember that. Always thought you were just worked up for the game.”

“Naw. I wanted that grinning fuck to pay a bit for what he’d done. I could’ve done more.” Robbie shook his head. “Some days I wish I had.”

David looked from Sonny to Robbie. “You guys played college ball?”

“University of Florida Gators. But that was a lifetime ago. You know, back in the World.”

“I always hated football players. Arrogant dicks.”

Sonny chuckled. “That we are, pal. Or were. Boot Camp took care of quite a bit of that shit.”

“No doubt. Once the Senior DI found out he had us running patterns and catching all kinds of shit. We had to fuckin’ huddle up all the damed time.” Robbie shook his head. “We made it through, though.”

Sonny nodded. Some nights he still saw Gunnery Sergeant Williams in his nightmares. A skinny, bitter man from West Texas, he’d latched onto Sonny and Robbie like a tick on a fat hound, to use his own expression. It wasn’t until close to the end of Basic, after they came back from the rifle range, that Sonny realized what the man was doing. On campus they’d been used to being the best. He was beating that out of them, reminding them they were no better than anyone else in the platoon. Worse, maybe, because they’d had it easy until now. “Yeah. Williams was one hard as nails bastard.”

“Senior DI Williams? Man, I had him too. And he didn’t like you two?” David whistled low. “I’m surprised you’re still here. We had one kid who thought he was the shit. Some tough guy from Chicago. Williams broke him in two weeks.”

“We had a couple like that, too.” Robbie shook his head. “Naw, Williams wanted to keep us around. But he wanted us to be Marines, not punk ball players. I hate to say it, but I learned a lot from that West Texas peckerwood.”

They were finishing their coffee when Gunny Torres, the company’s senior NCO, spotted them from the door. “Cann, Crockett, Conner! When you three are done playin’ grab ass could you drop by the office?”

Sonny looked at Robbie. “We’re on our way, Gunny.” He looked at David and winked. “That’s his nice face. You don’t want to see the other one.”

Torres’ office was a ten by ten room with plywood walls tacked onto the corner of a larger building housing some of the battalion’s command elements. Torres was a thickset Mexican from somewhere in New Mexico who put on a friendly face most days but took shit from no one. Word was he’d done an earlier tour with a rifle regiment before crossing over to MP and coming back with the 1^st MP Battalion. “So nice of you ladies to drop by,” he announced once they all trooped into the small office.

“Private Cann and I are on the patrol schedule for 1000, Gunny.” Sonny spoke quickly. “I don’t know about Conner’s assignment.”

“Same thing, Gunnery Sergeant, but with Lance Corporal McAllister.” David snapped to something just shy of attention as he spoke.

“Relax, Conner. This ain’t no mast or ass chewing.” Torres grinned, easing back in his chair. To the uninformed he looked fat and slow, but Sonny had been around enough linemen in his playing time to recognize what was under that supposed bulk. Torres could likely catch you and snap you in half before you realized he’d left his chair. And there was a glitter in his eyes that reminded Sonny of a few defensive linemen he’d played with…the ones who liked hurting the opposition. “It seems the fancy boys from NCIS dug up a lead on those AWOL fucks you took down yesterday. They want some MPs familiar with the area to assist, and you volunteered.”

Robbie chuckled. “That was nice of us.”

“Wasn’t it?” Torres grinned and then turned serious. “These are some tough boys you’ll be working with. I expect you’ll do the Corps proud. Let me down and you’ll be burning shitters for the rest of your damn tours.”

“Aye, aye, gunny!” The reply was almost in unison.

“Good. They’re waiting for you over by the motor pool. Two agents wearing unmarked jungle utilities. Wear your regular duty uniforms and equipment.” He looked down at the papers on his desk. “Well? Get moving, Marines! Don’t want to be late for your date, do you?”

After a quick scramble in the barracks and arms room, the three headed across the open compound toward the motor pool. Sonny slung his M-16 over his shoulder, looking over at Robbie and David. “I don’t know about you two, but this don’t feel like any kind of reward.”

“Working with NCIS? No way.”

David grinned. “Yeah, but it could mean more action. If we’re going after those dudes from yesterday…”

Robbie slowed and looked at him. “Just don’t freeze this time, ok?”

“I…”

“It’s cool.” Sonny shot a quick glare at Robbie. “We all did it our first time under fire. He’s right, though. Remember your training. If you freeze, it’s dangerous for all of us.”

David nodded, taking a better grip on his M-16. Sonny still had a hard time remembering the slight redhead was older than they were. “Yeah, I read you both.” He nodded toward an unmarked jeep. “Those must be the guys. What the hell do we call them?”

“Nothing.” Robbie narrowed his eyes. “They got no rank on those utilities.”

The two agents stood motionless. One was taller, with a narrow face and shaved head, while the other was stocky and looked like he could have been related to Gunny Torres. The taller one spoke first. “I’m Special Agent Granger, and this is Special Agent Gonzales. I know you Marines like rank, but just use our last names. It’s easier.”

Sonny nodded. “Privates Crockett, Cann, and Conner.”

Gonzales grinned. “Did they plan that? The three Cs?”

Sonny shook his head. “We just happened to be the ones who got the call yesterday. Lance Corporal McAllister was there, too, but…”

“He’s on a different assignment.” Granger had a voice that left no room for questions or discussion. Once he spoke, everything was done. “We asked for you because you know that street. How often do you patrol it?”

“Conner’s never been there before. We patrol it now and again, but they move us from perimeter guard to reaction force to street patrol pretty often, uh…Granger.”

Granger looked at Gonzales, who shrugged. “We’ll make it work. We’re gonna roll in like any other jeep patrol. That guy you brought in yesterday was very helpful after we explained the realities of LBJ and then Leavenworth to him. Turns out he was a small fish who’d run into that outfit only a few days before.”

“That area’s not known for deserters.” Robbie shook his head.

“That’s why they were there, at least according to our friend.” Gonzales had a more open voice, and he stifled a chuckle when he said ‘friend.’ “They wanted someplace the MPs didn’t go as often. They can always buy off the White Mice, but you Marines are a harder sell.”

“The man we’re after was in the third building. If you’d have waited for backup we might have rolled up the whole bunch. But they all also might have slipped away. You got one. That’s something.”

Sonny shook his head. He’d been so eager to go in he’d forgotten about the bigger picture. And so had Mac. “So if we’d have waited…”

“You might have hit a dry hole. These guys aren’t stupid, Crockett. They’ve been working this deal for almost a year now, and this is the first solid lead we’ve had on them.” Granger narrowed his eyes to slits. “You can’t go back, but you can always look forward. That’s what we’re doing now.”

“Do we know they went back there?” Robbie looked skeptical.

“They wouldn’t have a choice. According to our friend they have quite a bit of shit stashed in that third building. It would take time and vehicles to move it, and they won’t do that while the heat’s still on.”

Gonzales nodded. “So we roll in looking like just another patrol out for a drive in scenic Da Nang, They’d expect another patrol through there in light of the shooting. Not sending one would tip our hand.” Turning, he scrambled in the jeep. “You three take your usual vehicle. We already stuck an M-60 on it to explain the third MP. Follow my lead.”

Sonny climbed behind the wheel and hit the starter, smiling at the familiar grind and puff of smoke signaling that old 63Charlie had started again. He’d run his first patrol in the old jeep, and considered it something of a good luck charm. Slamming it into gear, he eased on the gas and followed the NCIS agents out of the motor pool and down the dusty road toward the main gate.

At least when you’re moving you can’t smell the shitters burning. Sonny smiled at the thought, knowing the pungent smell of Da Nang would soon wrap itself around them, held down by the hot, humid air. It wasn’t much of a drive from the base to the sprawling port city, but he tried to make the most of it. To him Vietnam was a place both beautiful and ugly, and he tried to soak in the beauty when he could before the ugly pushed it aside.

At least Gonzales seemed to know where he was going, pushing their jeep with authority through the swarm of mini-bikes and rusting Citroens snarling the streets. Now and then a military duce and a half, one of the big two and a half ton cargo trucks, would roll through, parting the lesser vehicles like a water buffalo moving through a tangled paddy. But mostly it was slow going, at least until they left the main drag and ventured onto the side streets leading to their destination.

Sonny had heard horror stories of Saigon’s legendary congestion, and he was glad Da Nang wasn’t that bad. Yet. He could see the signs, though, as more and more people flocked or were pushed to the city and shanty towns sprang up along its edges. He heard it had gotten worse after the ’68 Tet offensive, but all he knew is it seemed to be getting worse by the day. Making more problems for his battalion to contain. They didn’t have enforcement authority over the Vietnamese, but an increase in civilians desperate to make a living created more problems as they tried to work with, or steal from, the troops stationed in and near the city. It all flashed through his mind like a disjointed slide show as he guided 63Charlie through the snarled traffic, trying to maintain proper interval with the NCIS agents.

Robbie unclipped his M-16 from the dash rack. “Best lock and load back there, David. Gotta look the part.”

Sonny heard the feed cover slam into place and the clack of the operating handle going back. “You got it,” David shouted over the rattle of the engine.

The Vietnamese drivers must have ‘gotten it’, too. Vehicles started giving the two jeeps a wider berth, and he could see Granger had his M-16 out as well, holding it with the casual threat so common to experienced MPs. I’ll give him that. He knows how to play the part. If I didn’t know better I’d think he was some staff sergeant out on patrol.

The target street looked as empty as it had yesterday. There were no kids out playing, and only a handful of younger Vietnamese smoking or chewing betel nut on the stoops. “Place still feels off,” he muttered to Robbie and David. “Keep your eyes open.”

Metal creaked as David swung the M-60 on its pedestal mount. “You got it. Sweeping the street now.”

Robbie shifted his helmet to shade his eyes a bit from the sun’s glare. “Do those damned buildings look empty to you?”

“Yeah. And the gooks are scattering, too.” Sonny shook his head. “Those must be some bad dudes if they can empty out whole buildings like that.”

“And wired in. You notice we didn’t see a single White Mouse after we left the main drag?”

“Yeah.” Sonny reached for his own M-16. The South Vietnamese National Police were legendary for their corruption, though he’d met some good, dedicated officers during his time in Da Nang. Still, it was odd to see them disappear like this, especially in a neighborhood where there was ample opportunity to turn a quick buck. “I’d feel better if one or two of the bastards were on the corner trying to shake down the hookers and mama-sans.”

David spoke up. “Don’t look now, but our buddies want us. Or at least you two.”

Robbie scrambled out of the jeep. “I’ll check it out. You two stay put. Standard procedure and all.”

Sonny waited, feeling the sweat drip down the hollow of his spine and tension build in his gut while Robbie talked to the two agents. He cursed the flack jacket for its addition weight and heat-magnet abilities, but knew if he took it off he’d just draw attention. Behind him he could hear David shifting, trying to get his own flack jacket and steel pot into more comfortable positions while he stood behind the 60.

Robbie nodded and headed back. “They want us to make a show of checking this building again. I think they’ve got someone watching the area, because they seem damned sure the target’s actually in the third building.” He jerked his head back toward the two agents. “I asked, and that Granger one told me it wasn’t my business.”

“No surprise. He’s a lifer if I ever saw one.” Sonny grinned. “Stay on the gun, David. We’ll do our little dog and pony show and be right back.”

The shattered door still gaped open, but someone had removed the police tape during the night. Not that it mattered; nothing in the rooms had been touched aside from what the MPs and investigators had pulled the day before. “Whoever these boys are they must scare the hell out of the locals,” Sonny said as they stepped back into the hall. “Takes some powerful fear to keep looters out of a place like that.”

“Or they still had people in the building.” Robbie held his M-16 loose in his right hand, the butt resting on his hip. “We don’t know how many of these cats there are, let alone what they can do.”

“Maybe our friends downstairs can enlighten us.” Sonny turned and headed down the stairs.

Gonzales shook his head at the question. “We don’t think they still had people in the building, but they could have.”

Granger’s lips were tight. “You don’t need to know how many there are. Just that the leader is in the next building. Are you ready to go get him?”

Sonny noticed the small radio in the baggy thigh pocket of Granger’s fatigue pants. “Your little spies tell you anything? I don’t like running into dark rooms without an idea of what’s there, pal.”

“Didn’t seem to bother you much yesterday, did it?” Granger took a step forward. “You know what you need to know. Now let’s get this done.”

“Fine. Fuck it.” Sonny’s anger had been a tight string in his chest, and now it snapped. “David, cover us with the 60. We’re going calling.” Looking over, he shook his head. “At least look the damned part,” he snarled, tossing his M-16 at a surprised Gonzales and drawing his Colt. “Let’s get this done, Robbie.”

Robbie grinned, flipping the safety off his M-16 with a firm click. “Right behind you. You two girls keep up if you can.”

By then Sonny was already moving, sprinting across the open space between the two buildings. The big pistol filled his hand, and he could feel the empty leather holster slapping his hip as he ran. Then he was in the shadow of the building’s identical entryway, the cinderblock wall hard against his back as he tried to remember which floor and which window he’d seen movement in yesterday.

“Third floor. Second window from the entry.” Robbie stood beside him,, breathing hard from the sprint.

Sonny nodded, getting his own breathing under control and feeling the adrenalin run hot through his veins. He’d never felt a rush like this before., not even when he’d made that big catch against Auburn. Time seemed to slow, his vision narrow to a tight focus. Even his hearing was more precise. He imagined he could hear the ticking of his watch, and he knew the thump of his heart filled his ears. Raising three fingers he did a quick countdown and was up the stairs when he reached a fist. His jungle boots thudded on the stairs, and he saw the world through the tight rear sight and front blade of his Colt.

He took the tight turn in the stairwell on the run, using the flack jacket to cushion the blow as he bounced off the back wall and covered the stairs for his final sprint. Somewhere upstairs he heard shouting. Americans, not Vietnamese. And then he was up the last flight and turning into the hallway. Somewhere beyond his adrenaline-tight tunnel a door slammed, and training more than conscious thought tore the command from his throat. “Military Police! Show me your hands!”

“Fuckin’ pigs!” He didn’t know the voice, but the hate was clear. He saw a figure tumble into the hall, and light from the open door glinted off a weapon in his hands. Something flared, and a bullet cracked past Sonny’s head.

It was all reflex now. The Colt was steady in a two-hand grip, and Sonny fired twice, the booms merging into one from the speed of the group. Then he was across the hall, opening up room for Robbie to come off the stairwell with his M-16. The figure in the hall spun away, a pistol clattering across the concrete floor.

Robbie had his M-16 at his shoulder, aiming down the hall. Another figure came through the door, only to tumble away as a quick burst took him down. Sonny watched the brass tumble away from the M-16 in what seemed like slow motion, then he snapped himself back to what was happening. Granger and Gonzales were coming off the stairs, their weapons at the ready. Other doors in the hall started popping open, figures spilling out like broken jack-in-the-boxes. Gonzales dropped one with a casual burst, and Granger took down another with a single shot from his own .45.

“Cover me!” Sonny was up and moving down the hall before he could think, diving for the first door with his pistol at the ready. Something told him what they wanted was there, and if he didn’t there fast it would be gone again. Outside he heard the heavy thumping of the M-60 as David engaged someone further down the line, shattering glass and screams testifying to his accuracy with the bigger weapon.

The room was empty except for one man. His Afro bloomed like a dark sunflower around his head, and he stared at Sonny with wide eyes. A shotgun was in his hands, and he started to raise it.

Sonny kept the .45 trained on the man’s head. “Drop it. Military Police. Drop it or I blow your head off.”

“Or we blow your head off.” Granger stood in the door, his own Colt trained on the same target as Sonny’s. M-16s continued to pop in the hall. “Your friends can’t save you, Walker. Not this time.”

The man looked from Granger to Sonny and back again. Weighting the odds. Sonny felt his heart racing as his finger tightened on the trigger. He knew exactly where the break point was on his issue Colt, and he was almost there. “Drop it now!” he repeated.

“Fuck it.” The shotgun clattered to the floor. “You honky fools ain’t got shit on me nohow.”

“Try desertion. Theft of Government property. Conspiracy to commit murder. And murder.” Granger’s thin smile made Sonny’s blood run cold, killing the adrenaline rush as quickly as it had started. “Your boys aren’t as loyal as you think they are, Walker." He directed his voice at Sonny without taking his eyes off the man. “Cuff this piece of shit, Crockett.”

 

The EM club was hopping, but Sonny, Robbie, and David didn’t notice. They sat at their own table toward the back with a stack of beer cans in front of them and more on the way. “That was one bad dude you guys took down,” David said with a smile. “Wish I would have been there.”

Robbie chuckled. “Hell, you saved my ass on the 60. That guy you zapped would have had me dead to rights when I passed the door.”

Sonny had sunk down inside himself, listing to his old friend and his new one without much comment. The rush of combat was the most intense thing he’d ever experienced, and he found himself looking forward to the next fight. And that worried him. He’d lost his head charging up that staircase, pushed into something stupid by his own adrenaline and the goading of Granger. Even Robbie hadn’t been provoked, and he was the one who usually lost his head.

“You’re quiet tonight, Sonny.”

“Yeah. Sorry, Just running the whole thing back in my head. I was a damned fool to charge up those stairs like that.”

Robbie chuckled. “Reminded me of myself when you lit out like that. But it worked. Even Granger can’t argue with success. And he was happy as hell about how the whole thing went down.”

“How many did we kill?”

“Three. The one you got in the hall, David’s guy in the window, and one with an old Grease Gun either Gonzales or I greased. Two of ‘em had some wounds, and you and Granger took Walker without a scratch.” Robbie chuckled. “Seems like a good day’s work to me.”

“Even Gunny Torres wasn’t complaining. And he’s the one who has to do the paperwork.”

Sonny nodded. He couldn’t argue with anything they’d said. Still, he was trying to sort through what he’d done and why he’d done it. And the dead man in the hall. It was the first time he’d ever killed anyone. And it wasn’t how he’d thought it would be. He’d aways pictured it being some sapper or NVA solider trying to get through the wire or destroy a convoy. Instead it was some damed AWOL punk who’d been selling grenades and drugs as a sideline. Another American. How fucked up was that?

Still, he knew the man had made his choices. No one had made him go AWOL. Or steal munitions. Or sell them to the highest bidder. Or deal in pot or smack. Or throw down on MPs and NCIS agents. He wasn’t sure what was worse: knowing he’d killed someone or that it didn’t really feel at all. He took a deep drink of his beer. That was the hard part. There was no feeling at all. It had just been a mission they’d accomplished.

David broke the spell. “How’s it feel?”

Sonny knew exactly what he was talking about and started to get angry. Then he stopped. He was sure he’d asked the same kind of question at some point during his first month or two in-country. “It doesn’t. That’s what bugs me. It doesn’t feel at all.”

Robbie looked at him, and Sonny had the strange feeling his friend knew what he was talking about. Even though as far as he knew Robbie had never killed anyone or anything. “It might later. But it was you or him. Or him or us. That shotgun was gonna take more than you down if he got off a shot. You did what you had to do, buddy. Don’t make that mean less than it does.”

“Yeah.” Sonny finished his beer and reached for another. “Yeah. You’re right.” He tried to convince himself it was true as he drank another beer and listened to the sounds of the club around him. All he knew was that he was changed somehow, and there was no going back to what he’d been before.

[mjcmmv]

 Seeing Robbie and Sonny together in a firefight after only 3 months of being in country was interesting. I can imagine the other characters you created being a part of the action. Really well done.

Thanks for all the work you put into this. I enjoyed it! 

[Robbie C.]

They were MPs, so combat wasn't as frequent. And shootouts with AWOL GIs and deserters did occur on occasion.

[mjcmmv]

Just now, Robbie C. said:

They were MPs, so combat wasn't as frequent. And shootouts with AWOL GIs and deserters did occur on occasion.

Hard to imagine shoot-outs with our own GI's. I had no idea!

[Robbie C.]

There was a fairly extensive AWOL/deserter underground in Saigon. I extrapolated that a bit for Da Nang. They'd deal in stolen goods, drugs, whatever, and try to avoid the MPs. It took on some nasty racial overtones later in the war, but it had been there since the buildup in 1966. Obviously it grew as opposition to the war increased and was always a bigger problem in rear-area units. Remember, Doc (Carlos) from Echoes was AWOL as well.