Cambodia (The Vietnam Trilogy Book 2) by Martin E. Silenus

Author:Martin E. Silenus [Silenus, Martin E.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Martin E. Silenus
Published: 2018-12-01T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 10: Pursuit

It is dawn and we are being tracked. Spotting is an art, divide the terrain into sections and keep the binoculars moving over each section looking for straight lines. Straight lines are man-made; there are no straight lines in nature. P-man and I lay on a ridge in the bushes watching the opposite side of the gully we had just come through 30 minutes ago. The gooks are there and they know we are not far ahead of them.

“Shit,” say P-man, “we have beaucoup Charley’s on our ass, how the fuck can they track us in this damn jungle?”

“Buggered if I know, maybe the odd boot sole impression we are leaving in the damp ground.” I mutter. “We are going to have to lose these bastards chop, chop. Let’s wrap some of those big leaves around our boots so there are no marks in the mud and take a 90 degree angle to their direction, hump for another hour and see what we have.”

“Christ, this is never easy is it?” hisses P-man?

“Well they know we are here, so let’s leave a little surprise for the gooks shall we? Set up a couple of grenades there and over there and run trip wires over here. We’ll ruin the day for a few of them.” I mutter.

The leaf fronds wrapped around our feet are problematic. While they obscure the boot sole marks in the soft ground it also makes us clumsy and prone to slipping on anything but level ground. We flounder along as best we can. The jungle sounds are constant and undiminished even though we feel we are making too much noise.

After 45 minutes we come to the edge of a very steep ravine, it must be 300 feet to the bottom and a stream.

“Well so much for the leaf shoes unless we want to ski down to the bottom.” say P-man.

“No time to fuck around, let’s get them off and get down there, cross the stream, and set up a position on the other wall of the ravine. We’ll have a little rest and if we are followed let’s see if we can kill a few of the bastards to slow them down.” I say.

Just as we start the climb down the slope we hear the THUMP, THUMP of the grenades detonating in the distance.

“Morning Charley, you fuckers!” hisses P-Man.

The climb down is treacherous, the rocks are wet and slimy, but we make it without breaking a leg. Wade across the stream, which is deeper and the current is stronger than it looks, and climb back into the jungle on the other side. Another 15 minutes of climbing and maneuvering and we have an excellent sheltered position to watch who comes down the opposite slope and attempts to cross the stream.

“You know, we are not far from the village where I whacked those child raping fuckers,” I mutter as I stare at the map.

“Fuck, which means we have at least 2 more days of this shit!” curses P-man.

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