Casca 14: The Phoenix by Barry Sadler

Author:Barry Sadler [Sadler, Barry]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2014-03-28T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWELVE

Phang's men cracked open the drums of gasoline and began pouring them down every hole they could find.

Smelling the gas fumes, Troung yelled at Ho. "They're going to try and burn us out!"

Ho grabbed Troung's arm and pulled him with him down a side corridor, where a sheet of tin lay flush against the wall between two upright beams.

"Help me!" he yelled, and grabbed the top of the tin sheet and pulled. Troung obeyed with eager hands. He thought he knew what his master had in mind. The tin sheet came loose. There was another tunnel concealed by the tin sheet that had been made for just such a purpose as this. Ho had kept it secret, even from his own men. One always needed a "hole card." He and Troung entered the dark tunnel and pulled the tin sheet back up behind them.

In the dark of the tunnels, men tried to find sanctuary. Smelling the gasoline fumes they knew what was going to happen. Several tried to rush out of the openings only to be cut down by rifle fire before their shoulders could get through the opening.

Phang was pulled out of the section of fallen tunnel by hanging on to a rifle butt. "Light the fires!" he commanded as soon as he and the rest of his men were clear. White phosphorus grenades were tossed into the holes to lie on pools of gasoline, most of which had floated deep into the tunnels, riding on top of the flow of water from the rains.

Eye piercing brightness burst out of each hole as the white phosphorus grenades exploded. Almost simultaneously, the gasoline ignited. Black smoke billowed out of the holes as the fuel ate away the oxygen inside the tunnels, sucking the air out of the lungs of screaming men when they opened their mouths to cry for help.

Ho led Troung down a narrow passageway that led to the outside, clear of the village perimeters. Behind them, the sheet of tin served to keep the flames from coming after them. The cries of dying men being suffocated, or burned alive, sped their movements, till at last Ho moved away a covering of thatch and grass that let them escape to the outside world. The rain felt good, clean. Even the wind of the storm helped to clean the stench of burning human flesh from their nostrils and mouths.

A rolling ball of flame exploded, blasting off the door of the arms room, opening it up to the next wave of fire. The men outside felt a sudden draft of air going past them as the fire ate up what air remained in the tunnels and drew more to feed it from the outside. The influx of fresh air pushed another wall of flame into the arms room. Packed crates of 60 and 81 mm mortar rounds lay stacked by 122 mm rockets and open boxes of machine gun and rifle ammo. Hungrily, the flames attacked the wooden crates and washed around the heads of the rockets.

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