The Uvalde Raider by Ben English (great books for teens TXT) 📕

“Do you think he’ll still come on at that time?” asked the lieutenant. “He’s likely to be plenty exhausted and disoriented as it is. When all that shooting breaks loose, he’ll be even more confused and hesitant.”

“Not if he sees a Marine on the other side, Lieutenant, waving him on.”

“And who would that Marine be, Sergeant?”

Micah put down his binoculars, rubbing his eyes for a moment. He looked at the lieutenant. “That Marine would be me, sir.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

In practiced fashion, the word was passed through the platoon as the Marines shifted about in near silence. Perched on the side of the river valley as they were, any errant sound could echo down and carry to the ears of the oncoming NVA.

Each man took a special care, as they became more aware of what was going on and what was at stake. It was all part of Marine Corps tradition, faithfully taught from the rigors of boot camp throughout generations of Leathernecks. You never leave your dead, your wounded or your equipment behind. And you never, ever abandoned any fellow American beyond the wire.

Second Squad’s M60 machine gun was moved down to a pre-dug spot with First Squad, the extra men emplaced, and the 81mm mortars readied up at Firebase Razor. The support fire from Fox Battery was iffy, they were on standby due to the possible need of extracting a force recon team further up the Da Krong. Whatever could be brought to bear would have to be enough.

Micah crouched with the leader for First Squad detailing his ad hoc plan, along with Lieutenant Johnson and Corporal Gonzales. Both had volunteered to go with him as close to the river bed as he dared. Micah had first protested, pointing out to the lieutenant that he was needed at the CP to coordinate what was about to occur.

In turn, the second lieutenant pointed out the Marines in his platoon knew their jobs better at present than he did, and if he was only going to be an observer he would rather do so at the tip of the spear. Micah found himself beginning to like and respect their new platoon commander. His unit could have done far worse than Amos A. Johnson.

As far as Corporal Gonzales, one of his many attributes was as a marksman with few peers. The former high school linebacker came from a very large and poor family living some distance out of town. As a young boy, what he managed to bring down with a single-shot .22 rifle often ended up on the dinner table or as bounty money on predators. The hard options of empty bellies or pockets had given Chapo Gonzales a deadly shooting eye, further sharpened and polished by the Marine Corps.

“You sure your segundo can run things up there on that OP?” asked Micah.

“I would not have volunteered if I had any doubts, Mikey. Besides, I need to keep an eye on you.” Gonzales flashed a broad grin of white, even teeth and lowered his voice as if not to tempt fate. “Remember, we’re short timers now. That Freedom Bird will be here soon.”

“Yeah, I know,” replied the sergeant. “Just want to make sure this Navy airedale gets a fair chance at his own freedom bird. If he’s been out there by himself dodging NVA for two weeks, he deserves it.”

“That he does” agreed Gonzales. “He is muy hombre to have made it this far.” The sergeant shook his head in agreement.

“Chapo, I won’t need the M14 on this deal,” Micah raised the big rifle and offered it up. “I want you to cover me with it.”

“Okay, Mikey, but you set the dope. It’s your rifle and you know it better.”

“What distance?” queried Micah, placing his fingers on the rear sight elevation knob.

Gonzales examined the area through the undergrowth and across the riverbed. “I figure about 400 meters.”

Micah nodded in agreement and ran the sights up. He studied the other side of the riverbed, figuring for wind drift and added a couple of clicks of left windage. Satisfied, he handed the heavy-hitting battle rifle to Gonzales along with his spare magazines.

“You want my Made by Mattel?” asked Chapo.

“Yeah, and the extra mags.” Gonzales dug out the twenty round magazines for his M16 and passed them over. By habit, each man checked their respective weapons. After doing so, Micah looked into the expectant eyes of the corporal.

“Tan listo?” asked Chapo.

“Listo, amigo” replied Micah, and they smiled sardonically at each other.

    “Cuidado, Mikey. Remember, that freedom bird will be waiting for both of us” Gonzales said, and the two men shook hands. Micah turned and began making his way through the brush and to the retaining bank for the river.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Micah Templar had chosen his new position from above, picking out a point that offered plenty of cover and concealment. Better yet, there was a clear spot to its front where he could stand and attract the attention of someone on the opposite side. The idea that anyone, be they friendly or hostile, would be able to see him so easily had a chilling effect. This was really putting himself into the mouth of the cat.

But there was no time for second thoughts and Micah put his mind solely to what lie ahead. Cautiously, he moved forward on hands and knees to where he needed to be. Once situated he pulled out the binoculars taken from the OP, making certain the pieces of mosquito netting were secured over the lenses to veil any reflection. With them he began scanning the opposite tree line and nearby contours for