A Lonely Kind of War by Marshall Harrison

Author:Marshall Harrison [Harrison, Marshall]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781456834951
Amazon: 1456834959
Publisher: Xlibris
Published: 2010-12-14T11:00:00+00:00

PART 5

Over the Fence

THEY FOUND ME A BUNK FOR THE NIGHT IN the squadron quarters in Bien Hoa. The air-conditioning and tile floors felt as if I were on another planet. The CO allowed me time for a lengthy hot shower before his jeep driver tracked me down and ferried me to his office. The CO returned my salute and introduced me to an Army lieutenant colonel sitting in one of the wing chairs before die glossy desk. The commander saw me eyeing the expanse of glistening wood after we had been invited to sit.

“I’ll be damned if I apologize for this,” he said. “I’ve bad two wars before this one—that in itself ought to allow me to sit this one out in as much comfort as I can find.”

“No argument there, sir,” I replied. “I just wish I had one like it.”

“Like hell, you do! You’d squawk like a goddamned wounded buzzard if I tried to pull you in out of the mud.” He turned to the Army lieutenant colonel and continued. “I’m going to let the colonel fill you in on what’s happening in Quan Loi. I’m just here to make sure that they don’t overwhelm you with that SOG bullshit.” He waved his hand vaguely at the Army type, who took his cue and strode purposefully toward the large wall map. It showed most of the Vietnamese-Cambodian border all the way to the tri-border where Laos joined the two countries.

“Major, your new assignment is going to be with MACSOG, the Military Assistance Command, Studies and Observation Group. If that sounds more like some kind of an entertainment group than anything else, good; that’s exactly what we hoped. Originally, SOG were the initials for Special Operations Group, but that seemed to attract a little too much attention. Our group is responsible for a good part of the covert activity in and out of the country. We’ll limit this brief to that part in which you’ll play an active role. Specifically, I’m talking about this area here.” He moved his briefing stick from a point south of the Parrot’s Beak, an enclave jutting from Cambodia into South Vietnam, to a point just south of the tri-border area.

“We’re funded and targeted by a nameless agency in Washington that’s known by its initials most of the time. I’d like to emphasize at this point that all our missions have the approval of the very highest authority. It can’t get any higher. And I mean every target.”

“Just who is this ‘highest authority’?” I was already getting pissed and I hadn’t listened to this man for more than two minutes.

He looked annoyed. He probably didn’t like me either. “I’m not at liberty to say his name. Take my word for it, he really is the highest authority you can need.”

“I didn’t know that God was directing SOG now,” I said, facetiously. “I guess that’s who you’re talking about though. Unless you’re nonreligious, of course. Then, it could be any number of people or things, like gold to the gnomes of Zurich or polar bears to the Eskimos.

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