Leading up to the river were grasslands. Even though the grass itself was exceptionally high, Ortega swore he could feel VC eyes staring right at him. He couldn’t help worrying about being spotted, from one moment to the next no matter how hard he tried.
Despite all his concerns, when they did finally arrive at the grass planes, to his surprise, whistles didn’t blow, and no one fired shots up at the sky. Even the prisoners, along with the rest of the team, with the exception of Rambo and Jorghenson, reached the river without anybody being the wiser.
When Ortega saw the river up close and with his own eyes, he felt a lump form in his throat. That was one big motherfucking river.
In all likelihood, using that rope would probably make the crossing somewhat easier. If you just stopped to take a good look at what you were crossing however, it was enough to make you think twice about doing it. People definitely lost their lives in that kind of river. In fact back home, something like that would claim about a life a year.
What was even worse was that at some points, mainly in the middle, the rope disappeared under water.
Ortega turned to look at Berry.
“You’re going first”
He didn’t even have time to smirk when the first shot sounded behind him. Rambo and Jorgenson had already started to engage.
The shots multiplied straightaway and become a whole lot more almost instantly.
It sounded like they were up against the entire North Vietnamese army all on their own.
Ortega turned to where the shots were coming from, somewhat apprehensively.
The sky above him was grey and humid.
Explosions, screams, AKs blasting...
Ortega sniffed the air, closed his eyes and felt as though he’d just lost two men.
Then he heard Jorgenson's M60 return fire, with their only M60 that is, because they’d destroyed the other one to lighten their travelling load.
Good, good on you guys.
Just keep it up – thought Ortega pleadingly.
God, please, I’m begging you, spare them.
Make the plan work.
Let them get through the next ten fucking minutes of fire alive, and then retreat.
Get them home for me.
It was already over by then though.
There was no point in kidding himself, they were gone, overrun by larger forces and there was nothing in the world Ortega could do to help.
In all actuality, he shouldn’t be letting himself even think about them.
He had to concentrate on the mission at hand.
“Messner, we are out in the open here. You may have a pretty good signal... Get on that radio and get a hold of anybody who will listen. Coletta: recon. Cover our asses. Go, go, go!”
In the meantime, Barry was through fastening himself to the rope and was looking at Ortega in bewilderment, not knowing if they were really expecting him to dive into that damn river or not.
“What the fuck are you waiting for, Snake? Dive in! Now!”
Barry took a deep breath and dove in.
-
Once in the water, it didn’t take Delmore long at all to realize just how powerful the undercurrent actually was. There was no point denying it, that river was fucking angry, and fighting back. If the spring clip hadn’t been hooked onto the rope he’d have been dragged along and then under, in mere seconds.
The river was overflowing, moving fast because of all the rain they’d had recently.
In fact, Barry had never been in a river that fast his whole life.
I am not getting anywhere – Delmore thought to himself as he slowly pulled forward, holding tightly to the rope.
I’ve hardly even moved an inch.
They all watched him apprehensively.
“UAAAARGH” he screamed in exhaustion.
Maybe they were wrong.
Maybe Ortega and Coletta had been mistaken and there actually was no possible way to get across, not even with a rope.
Barry yelled out again.
Could his arms actually be that tired already?
They sure could. How many days had they marched carrying double loads for?
Even with the water smashing down as loudly as it was, his moans got all the way over to where his teammates were.
He felt worn-out from all the effort he’d used already and his lungs were about to explode.
Come on Barry...You’re supposed to be in good shape. Everyone else is in farworse shape, and they’ll even have to carry prisoners too. If you can’t get to the other fucking side, no one will.
The problem was that he honestly couldn’t d it.
The drag flow was too strong making any kind of forward movement exhaustively slow.
In addition to making little or no progress, he thought he was about to die.
Calm down.
Yet calming down seemed impossible. What he was doing wasn’t just hard, it was painstaking.
Berry fixed his sights on the other side of the river, but despite his effort, it continued to be a long ways away. In all actuality, he’d barely reached the half waypoint.
That goddamn river really was enormous.
Do you want to die? - asked a voice in his head.
So go ahead then dickhead just die already, but at least do it quietly.
His mind suddenly quit thinking. Even his body quit moaning all of a sudden. Even the pains in his arms, legs and back quit and he didn’t feel the cold temperature, or have blurry vision anymore. It had all disappeared.
The only things left were him, the water and having to get to the other side at any cost.
He’d never been that hypnotized by anything before, not even when he was trying out at Fort Bragg.
He’d turned into a machine.
-
Lowell, who was sitting motionless and open-mouthed, couldn’t tear his blank fixated stare off of Barry.
Even, Messner and Danforth who should’ve been responsible for covering everyone’s backs, at turned around to see what Barry was doing. It didn’t take Ortega long to notice they’d turned around however and immediately screamed out:
“Pay attention for fuck’s sake!”
-
In the meantime, Coletta was trying to get a real understanding of what was going on through his riflescope from the back of the group.
Rambo and Jorghenson had let hell loose by that point. There were shots, screams, explosions, just about everything and anything going on back there. The first thing Coletta looked at was the road. The number of men and means heading Rambo and Jorgenson's way was downright troubling. There were also two trucks in the vicinity, unloading entire teams of men with a commanding officer yelling and gesticulating orders.
Not a second later, Coletta couldn’t believe his ears when he heard the first sharp blow of a mortar blast.
Seriously.
The North Vietnamese team had actually put mortars into place to stop Rambo and Jorgenson.
The VCs must have thought the entire South Vietnamese army was shooting at them, rather than the two of them who were really making all that commotion themselves.
Despite the odds, Ortega's plan had actually been right about only needing a decoy and the VCs would have ignored the river, the rope and everything else, thank God.
Coletta lifted his eye from the riflescope.
The problem was Rambo and Jorgenson.
Oh my God.
Coletta had serious doubts about them being able to get around the enemy and get back the other side.
As things were, it seemed highly unlikely.
-
Shit! - thought Ortega.
What the hell is happening out there?
Ortega clenched his jaw in anger, and spit onto the concrete in front of him.
Rambo and Jorghenson were screwed, finished.
Even just surviving long enough to create the decoy the team needed was a miracle in itself. Staying alive for the team so it could cross the river, buying them time, was definitely a miracle by all accounts.
Then Ortega thought back to the bridge, that damn bridge that the North Vietnamese could use to surround them. If they were seen crossing, the VCs wouldn’t have any trouble catching them on the other side.
We can’t let them see us – thought Ortega.
If they do, we’re dead.
Then he looked back at Berry.
Come on.
Come on Barry, come on.
Still more explosions sounded and shots fired.
Then, out of nowhere, two F4 flew right over them.
What the... Jesus Christ.
Not a moment later, the renowned thundering echo of the passing Phantoms sounded over the entire valley.
WUOOOOOOOOOOOM!
Man, is the shit ever gonna hit the fan now – thought Ortega to himself.
If there were F4s in the vicinity, then that meant that the Baker team was close enough to use short-range radios as well.
Finally.
It’s about time God damn it.
There may even have been a chance to save Rambo and Jorgenson if they moved fast enough.
“Doc...” shouted out Ortega.
“I am already trying for fuck’s sake! I am trying everything!”
Ortega shifted his attention back to the river.
The rope was still tightly pulled, but this time Barry was nowhere to be seen. He’d literally disappeared under the waves.
Ortega looked around trying to get him back in sight.
No.
Please, I beg of you, no...
Berry on the contrary, was kneeling on the riverbank on the other side.
Oh my God, thank the Lord.
His plan, his Goddamn plan had paid off, it had actually worked, thank the Lord.
Despite general relief, Barry collapsed with exhaustion and vanished into the tall grass.
No doubt crossing that river was hard, but dragging a hostage as you do it, was going to be even harder.
A whole lot harder.
-
Delmore was flat on his back thinking his lungs were about to explode.
He couldn't breathe.
He had held his breath doing the last few meters, that and more, just to get to the other side. Except now, his heart was in dire need of oxygen, and, in an effort to get it, was pumping like mad in his chest.
He thought he was going to die.
Keep on moving – he thought.
Staying still is worse.
He turned over and dragged himself forward in the grass. His arms and legs felt paralysed and were hard to move, but at least his heart was starting to slow down.
The problem was exactly that, meaning he shouldn’t be stopping so abruptly. He wasn’t supposed to stop like that. He was supposed to slow his heart down, a little at a time, or it would have exploded inside his chest.
Berry screamed in pain, but in doing so he managed to get back on his feet, even if he was staggering.
Then his mind went painstakingly back to the mission.
Berry pointed his AK out in front of him to scout out the surroundings.
What he had to do now was protect that damn rope because while the group crossed over, they’d be at risk. The fact that he felt as bad as he did, right then and there, did not matter in the least.
He had to protect the area, at any cost.
-
After an excruciatingly long wait, Danforth finally saw Barry give his signal from the other side of the river. The area was clear.
Turning round in haste, he gave Ortega the thumbs up.
“The fastest first!” shouted out the team leader.
The first one Danforth sent was Eddie Johnson, who was perhaps, among the prisoners, the fittest.
“Don't try to swim, ok?” said Krakauer while hooking him up to the rope.
“Just use your arms and stay calm. If you get tired, just hang on to the rope with your legs too, and stay where you are. Whatever you do though just stay calm, okay? This thing is gonna hold”
-
Johnson looked at the rope first, and then at the river.
Then, he swallowed.
That’s when he had a flashback.
He could see himself locked up in a tiger cage as the hole they’d put him in, slowly filled with water.
No...
Not again, no....
As far as he was concerned, stepping foot in that river was equivalent to parachuting if you were afraid of heights.
He just couldn't go in there, not after having almost drowned inside that tiger cage. It was impossible.
“Go, you fucker! Go!” Ortega shouted, spitting as he did.
With a slap of the hand, Krakauer pushed him by surprise, and he fell into the water.