Black Market by Donald E. Zlotnik

Author:Donald E. Zlotnik [ZLOTNIK, DONALD E.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780446566797
Publisher: Grand Central Publishing
Published: 2009-09-25T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FIVE

RECONDO Justice

Woods noticed that Shaw was constantly looking up at the yardmaster’s tower the whole time they loaded the truck with the pallets of frozen meat. Kirkpatrick and Simpson pulled the heavy tarp over the cargo and tied it down.

“Hurry up! I don’t want to get caught on the highway when it gets dark, and we have one more stop to make!” Shaw glanced over at Simpson.

“Where?” Woods stacked his gear to the left side of the cab, away from the diesel smokestack.

“Simpson has to make a stop in An Khe.” Shaw glared at the cocky black soldier. “He won’t take long.”

“We’ve got plenty of time, old Sarge … relax!” Simpson almost laughed when he saw the uncontrolled nervousness on the NCO’s face. “You’ve got to learn to work under pressure. Now, when I was back in Detroit and worked for the Young Boys Incorporated—”

“Shut the fuck up!” Shaw was on the very edge of breaking. “I don’t want to hear any more of your bullshit about that fucking gang of yours!” Shaw fumbled in his pocket for his cigarettes and glanced back over his shoulder at the tower in the distance.

Woods noticed two things: Simpson’s look of contempt for the supply sergeant, and Shaw’s obsession with the yardmaster’s tower. Something had gone on up there that had amused Simpson and upset Shaw.

The three-quarter-ton truck had been shoved to one side of the highway by an M-48A5 main battle tank. There were three more of the large armored vehicles spaced about seventy-five meters apart on the east side of the village, and an infantry company was sweeping the Vietnamese compound from the west. Sporadic rifle shots could be heard coming from inside the village, and an occasional scream could be heard over the sound of the truck’s engine.

A small group of Vietnamese women and children were squatting next to the road with two American soldiers guarding them. Woods could see that the men wore shoulder patches that identified them as troopers from the First Cavalry Division, his unit. The sweep of the village had caused the traffic on the road to bottle up at the bridge west of Khu Pho, and the circling gunships had the livestock in the village spooked and running across the road.

“Fucking Vietnamese! You’d think they could control their fucking animals!” Shaw leaned out of his window and tried shooing out of the way a large water buffalo that had taken up a position in the middle of the road.

Woods looked out over the cab of the truck and saw one of the American guards butt-stroke a small Vietnamese boy who had been squatting next to his mother and sister. The idling truck engine didn’t block out the yelling soldier or his buddy.

“Kill that little motherfucking commie!”

The mother started begging for them to stop hitting her child and then she tried throwing her body between the boy and the men beating him. The little girl cowered and cried.

Woods jumped over the side of the truck with his CAR-15 held out in his hand.

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