The Village by Bing West Read Free Book Online

cursed. The clatter of empty magazines being changed drowned out his voice.
    â€œKnock it off and sit still. Listen for them,” Lummis said. “We probably got that one, so listen for groans. Anybody hit?”
    â€œYeh. Culver took some shrapnel. No big thing though. It hit him in the head.”
    â€œWha-at?”
    â€œI don’t feel too bad,” Culver spoke up. “But I’m bleeding like a stuck pig. I caught a piece in my forehead.”
    The sound of the firing had carried clearly to the fort and Beebe had immediately called the nearest artillery position, asking for illumination. While Lummis was bandaging Culver’s head, the first flare blossomed over the patrollers.
    â€œLook,” said Brannon, “there’s a boat.”
    Beached on the sand bar not fifteen yards out in the stream was a round wicker-basket boat. One or two Viet Cong had been paddling downstream under cover of the storm when the bank had suddenly erupted with fire. They had then beached their craft. The Marines did not know whether they were lying flat and unseen on the sand bar or had swum off.
    â€œHose down that sand bar,” Lummis said.
    Fielder and Brannon began firing, the red arcs of the tracers skimming across the water, a few hitting rocks on the sand bar and angling off in wild and spectacular flight.
    â€œHow’s Culver?”
    â€œHe’ll be O.K. There’s blood all over him, but he was only nicked.”
    â€œAnother Purple Heart the easy way,” said Culver. “One more to go and I go home.”
    â€œHey,” Brannon shouted, “let me try for that boat with a LAW. I never get a chance to fire one.”
    â€œAll right, Brannon,” Lummis answered, “but don’t screw up. It’s our only LAW.”
    â€œRelax, I’m a pro,” Brannon said. “Watch this.”
    Brannon extended the LAW and knelt in the inlet near the spot where the incoming grenade had gone off. Sighting in carefully at the round wicker boat not thirty meters away, he squeezed the firing mechanism. Nothing happened. He realigned and squeezed again. Nothing. He tilted the tube upward off his shoulder to inspect the faulty trigger. The LAW went off with a roar, the rocket streaking out across the paddies.
    â€œGreat shooting,” Lummis growled. “That’s gonna land in district headquarters.”
    The patrol leader walked to the water’s edge with his grenade launcher. He fired once and the M-79 shell splintered the boat. “Let’s go home,” he said, “before we shoot down a jet.”
    â€œWhat about that guy in there?” Brannon asked, looking toward the mangroves.
    â€œYou want to go in there stumbling around looking for him?” Lummis replied.
    â€œNo.”
    It was raining again as the patrol turned back toward the fort and the men splashed noisily along the paddy dikes. By the time they reached the fort the flares had gone out. Beebe was waiting to debrief them and they clustered briefly in the courtyard, heads bowed, the water running in rivulets from the brows of their hats.
    â€œThat’s it for tonight,” Lummis said. “Let’s pack it—”
    He was silenced by the quacking of ducks in the stream not two hundred yards across the paddies directly in front of the fort.
    â€œSon of a bitch,” he said softly. “No sooner are we in than they move right in front of our noses. That really frosts me.”
    The squawking and fluttering of the ducks became louder. Lam walked out into the rain and mud, clad only in his white underwear. Ignoring the weather, he stood listening for a moment before shaking his head and smiling at the disgruntled Marines.
    â€œTiki, tiki,” he said. “Small. Not many, two, maybe four.”
    Lummis turned to Brannon.
    â€œWant to go out again?”
    â€œSure,” Brannon said. “Why not?”
    â€œYou can go out after the last patrol comes