Death in the Jungle by Gary Smith (most inspirational books .txt) 📕

were directly in front of Mr. Meston, about thirty-five meters away. I looked at the lieutenant, and he motioned for me to drop the explosives. I tried to release the haversack from the flotation bladder, but the firing wire was tangled with the life jacket. While I struggled to release the explosives, Ty and I drifted farther downstream outside the kill zone of the ambush site. The wire soon pulled taut, then broke in the middle of its length.

Disgusted, Ty and I had to swim back to the ambush site, where we could repair the firing wire. This was easier thought of than done. Finding it impossible to swim directly into the strength of the current, Ty and I struck out crosscurrent for the shore. We ended up reaching the riverbank about seventy-five meters south of the others.

Crawling out of the water, I swung the heavy sack of explosives and weights over my right shoulder while Ty rolled up seventy feet of attached firing wire. We walked through the brush to Mr. Meston’s position in the center of the ambush line, where he awaited with his end of the wire.

I first tied the bitter ends together using a square knot. I carefully repaired the wire, using the Western Union splice. Then I taped each wire separately, and finally together, for insulation and strength. As I finished, I looked across the river and tried to see Katsma. I couldn’t find him, but I was sure he had gotten a real kick out of watching Ty and me flounder around in the current. He probably had had all he could handle in stifling his guffaws.

“Hang in there, Smitty,” Mr. Meston encouraged me. Not wanting a repeat performance, I freed the weighted haversack from the flotation bladder and dropped the bladder on the ground. I planned to make sure there was no tangled mess the second time.

Ty and I again walked upstream, stringing out the wire before dropping off the bank. Swimming was much tougher now as the weighted haversack of C-4 had nothing to keep it afloat but my arms. My arms were enough, however, tired though they were.

When I reached the drop point, I let the weighted haversack go. It sank in the water, and I was relieved of a hell of a burden. Ty and I drifted momentarily with the current as we looked to see if all was well. Mr. Meston gave us a wave that all was okay and to return to his location. As I breaststroked, my arms felt light, relieved to be free of the heavy haversack. Ty was right behind me as I climbed out of the water.

We made our way to the others and took up our positions in the ambush line near Lieutenant Meston. He gave us a couple of minutes to catch our breath, then notified all concerned that the simulated ambush was ready to happen. We were to pretend that a sampan, occupied by the VC, was floating down the stream toward us. When the imaginary boat was supposedly in front of Mr. Meston and directly above the C-4 explosives, he’d command detonate the charge, which would capsize the craft. That was when Ty and I were to jump into the stream and swim to the opposite bank and “capture” Katsma.

Suddenly the explosives blew, but forty meters farther downstream than the drop point. Obviously, the haversack of C-4 had not been weighted down enough to keep the swift current from moving it. Plus, the explosion was not big enough to capsize a sampan and stun the occupants. Next time we’d have to double the charge. But that would be next time.

This time, Ty and I had to swim across the water and tie up Katsma. With duck fins on my feet, and electrical tape in my pants pocket, I slid into the stream and went for the opposite bank. Ty was right behind me.

As I breaststroked for all I was worth, I looked for my friend across the river in the bushes. I didn’t see him. Drawing closer to shore, I really wondered where Katsma had gone. Then I remembered him saying at breakfast that he wasn’t going to make his capture easy on me.

“Dammit,” I muttered as I cut through the water.

Reaching the beach, I grabbed a root sprout and dragged myself out of the stream. I plopped my fanny down on the bank and pulled off my fins. Ty clutched the same sprout and heaved himself up beside me where he, too, took off his fins.

“Where Kats?” Ty whispered.

I shrugged my shoulders. Standing up, I stared into the brush around us. I figured we’d just wait a few seconds and Kats would materialize.

After half a minute, Kats did not appear. I searched the ground and found a set of fresh bootprints that must have been his. I motioned to Ty and started following the tracks.

We walked less than ten meters when we were suddenly startled.

“Here I am!” Kats popped up from behind a bush, smiling at us. I waved for him to come to us, but he shook his head, laid down his M-16 rifle, and put up his fists.

“I’m your VC prisoner,” he said. “You’re supposed to take me by force.”

Here we go, I thought. He was gonna fight us like a real gook. I looked at Ty, raising my eyebrows. Simultaneously, we broke into a charge at Katsma. We crashed into him together, and all three of us fell to the ground. That was when the wrestling began.

Kats locked his arms around Ty’s neck and held him down. I jumped on Kats’s back and tried to pry him off Ty. Kats spun away from Ty and flipped me onto my back. Like a cat, Kats was on me in an instant. I threw my arms around his waist and bear hugged him with all my might. Then Ty slammed his body into both of us, sending all of us sprawling.

I sat up on my knees and barked,