Black Ops Vietnam 3.Death Squad by Eric Meyer

Author:Eric Meyer
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Swordworks
Published: 2021-11-13T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seven

He walked across to the vehicle, the GAZ-51 truck. A useless lump of metal, and if it had been in running condition, they could’ve had a chance of driving out of this place. Without wheels they had no chance, not trying to keep a severely wounded man alive, and dragging along Colonel Chi. He kicked the tires, cursing the fact they couldn’t use it, so near and yet so far. Idly, he opened the hood and looked inside to see what the problem was, just on the off chance it was nothing serious.

He didn’t find anything wrong, just a card that looked like a maintenance sheet fixed to one of the battery terminals with string. He called Sao over to take a look, and he pulled it off and held it up to his eyes. Squinting at the Vietnamese text, his expression looking puzzled, until his face cleared with understanding.

“Battery.”

“What about the battery?”

The puzzled expression returned. “I don’t understand the rest of it. There’s a number ten. I don’t know what that means.”

He didn’t know what it meant either, and he took the card off him to try to make some sense of the writing and failed.

Ten? What the hell does that mean, something to do with the battery, sure, but what?

A second later a cog in his brain ticked around to the next notch, and he understood. “It’s the voltage! It’s a flat battery. Shit, if we can find the charger, we can charge it and maybe the engine will start. The electricity is switched on. We know that because they used the lights. Leland, we need to find that charger.”

They found it on a workbench stationed on the opposite corner of the shop. A rusting metal box plugged into a rusting metal outlet hanging from the wall, but there was a good chance it still worked. He also found on the bench several wrenches. He picked them all up and went back to the truck to disconnect the battery. He lifted it out. Typically Soviet, huge and heavy, he carried it across to the bench, connected the terminals, and switched on. The result was a loud buzzing noise from inside the battery charger, and with no visible voltmeter, all he could do was assume it was working. He went back to the truck, searched the cab, and found a crank handle to turn the engine over by hand.

St. Pierre joined him, and he explained what he had in mind. “Once the battery is charged for a couple of hours, there should be enough juice in it to fire up the ignition and start it with the handle. I’ll check the gas tank, see if there’s fuel.”

He used a length of dowel that looked as if it’d been used for the same purpose and dipped the tank. It came out wet at the bottom, dry at the top. He estimated it held something like four or five gallons of gas; enough to get them out and a good distance away from Son Tay, although not as far as he would’ve liked.

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