When Coletta got back to his crew he was covered in sweat and had a dazed look in his eyes.
Ortega went up to meet him, but had to crouch down and practically crawl all the way there using the elephant grass to hide in. It was the only way to keep from blowing his cover.
“This one is no good either” said Coletta.
“Shit. It sure looked like a good place to cross”
Coletta shook his head in a definite no manner.
Ortega however, this time went on to insist:
“Not even if we all crossed at once? Or with the prisoners on our backs, or even...”
Coletta shook his head again, interrupting Ortega mid-sentence.
“No, Scorpio. It’s exactly the same as every other place we have seen so far. There’s a ninety percent chance of being spotted, and about a fifty percent chance of having to engage as well. Besides, even if we did somehow manage to get across it, I think our short-range radios would be out of bounds all the same. So any which way we look at it, crossing here would be fucking madcap too”
“Well, at any rate, let's get the hell out of here” whispered Ortega.
“Good idea”
The two men crept low through the tall grass until they were back under cover in the jungle vegetation.
“We have to find another place to cross”
“Ortega...”
“There’s nothing else we can do”
“We can't wait any longer, Ortega. Jesus Christ, we are eating leaves and roots for god’s sake, and haven’t had any meat in days. You know we are not eating enough, we can't even think straight any more Ortega and that includes you too”
There was no denying it.
Coletta was right and Ortega knew it.
That fucking hellish march back had turned out to be two days too long already.
Coletta was right.
This wasn’t only a question of willpower as they used to say back at Fort Bragg anymore. There was a lot more than that at play now.
Sooner or later they were bound to mess up, all of them, and that would have been the beginning of the end.
Coletta wanted his team leader to take act before it all got out of hand and he had every right in doing so.
“One more day, Sniper”
“No, Scorpio. It wouldn’t do us any good. Any which way you want to look at it, every single crossing-point we have seen so far has been the same more or less. This is Ho Chi Minh trail for fuck’s sake, Ortega. There’s no fucking way around it”
Ortega lowered his head over his AK almost in prayer.
“Fuck”
“And, to make matters worse, we are almost out of water again. Marching at this rate, without any water means we’ll hit rock bottom in less than twelve hours. Do you remember that thing Trautman used to say?”
“I don't remember what he used to call it right now either, but I know exactly what you are talking about”
“You see? We are out of our minds. Both of us are, already. We have to do something now”
“Alright, alright. Just a little north of here there was a place that was better than this though. It was south of the bridge, near the river bed”
“Fuck”
“Am I right or not?”
“Yeah, you’re right”
“Ok then, it’s settled. That's where we’ll cross”
*
“We got it everybody, we’ve found the right place” Ortega said assertively once they had all gathered around him.
The Baker team guys knew damn well he was lying though. In all actuality, Ortega had said it for the prisoners’ sake, not for anyone else’s.
“Crossing won't be easy whatsoever. At least at any rate, no matter what happens, or how it goes, today’s the day we are going home”
Someone rejoiced quietly under his breath as Ortega dismissed the group and walked away to be on his own.
As he walked, he lowered his head staring down at the vegetation under him.
Let's hope it is true – he thought.
And that someway, somehow, we all make it.