Kiai! and Mistress of Death by Piers Anthony & Roberto Fuentes

Author:Piers Anthony & Roberto Fuentes [Anthony, Piers & Fuentes, Roberto]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 2

CAMBODIA

I flew backwards in time. I was in the Green Berets, back when American military commitment was quasi-official in Southeast Asia. I had private doubts about our involvement in that war, but the brass never inquired my opinion, and I knew better than to volunteer it. I had a job to do, so I did it, as well as I was able. It was not a nice job, and I never look back on that experience with any pride.

It was blind luck that got me in trouble, but that was the way it was, in that region. The Cong and their allies were everywhere, and no one was to be trusted. I had known that sooner or later I’d catch it. My mission was to infiltrate the Cambodian jungle, avoiding the paths and roads, so as to observe the enemy movements along the southern end of the Ho Chi Minh trail complex. After I’d made a count of people and vehicles, so that I knew when a given trail was in current use, I’d plant a little sensory device that would generate a continuing signal for the bombers to home in on. If I were mistaken, and had spotted only a stray column instead of a main trail, the sensor would have a low count in the following days or weeks. But if it counted many troops, pretty soon the bombers came and—no trail.

Of course there were hitches. Sometimes a congregation of animals triggered off a bombing mission, since the sensors did not distinguish between forms of life. Sometimes a sensor was discovered and moved, causing much mischief, especially when it was moved to the vicinity of our own forces. And of course the Cong were expert at rerouting and repairing, so that one mission never did the complete job. But they had to work mainly at night, and the more accurate the bombing the greater the inconvenience and delay for them. In a good sequence, we’d plant a new bomb-lure almost as soon as they got a new trail ready, and they’d have to start all over, while their supplies sat and waited.

I worked with Cambodian mercenaries. These were Cambodians who had lived in Vietnam, who were trained for such missions. They could not afford to fight; the Cong would get their families if any of them were identified in association with me. But I didn’t want to fight either; I had to remain hidden as long as possible. Until my tour of duty was up, I hoped. The Cong did not even know who I was, but they knew what I was doing, and they wanted me. Badly.

It was grinding, boring work. Whenever we plowed through the jungle the leeches fastened to our legs, or wherever they could find skin. We couldn’t pull them off; that just left the heads connected while the rest of their bodies ripped apart. We had to make them let go by burning them, as is done with the ticks on dogs.

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