Guns Up! Read Online Free Page B

first bridge in twenty-five minutes. The convoy stopped. The first platoon was shouted out of the last two trucks in the column.
    The rest of the convoy started up again. A mile down the road we came to a stop at a large old steel bridge that was painted black. It looked like an old suspension bridge for trains, but it was strictly for road traffic. It stretched across a wide jungle river that was reddishblack from decaying leaves that swirled near its surface and lay in piles on its bed. Rolls of barbed wire encircled the bridge, and thick, five-foot-high sandbag bunkers guarded each end. Another sandbag bunker sat on a huge cement piling that supported the center of the bridge.
    The big Indian corporal jumped out of our truck and started shouting, “Truoi Bridge! Second Platoon, get out! Move it! Move it! Hurry up, you’re makin’ a great target!” We lined up in formation in front of a rusting old tank with a French emblem on the turret. Twenty yards to the right of the tank stood a three-story sandbag bunker with the barrel of a .30-caliber machine gun sticking out near the top.
    Just to the left of the bridge and behind the three-story bunker sat five small white cement-block buildings with tin roofs. Directly in front of us on the other side of the road was a long cement-block building riddled with bullet holes. Vietnamese children ran around it, screaming like normal kids in a playground. Thirty meters to the right of that building was a huge camouflaged parachute spread fully open and tied to three trees. Under the parachute, sheltered from the murderous sun, sat twelve Marines. Some were playing cards; others were sleeping.
    “Who are they?” I asked Red.
    “That’s a Civil Action Patrol unit. CAP, they’re called. They work with the villagers. They try to keep ’em on our side, protect their rice, and give ’em medical aid.”
    On the south end of the bridge was a long village that paralleled the river for as far as I could see. ARVNs (Army of the Republic of Vietnam) walked in and out of the white block buildings. Most of them didn’t carry weapons. The lieutenant stood at the door of the smallest block building talking to an ARVN major. The major first pointed to the largest of the buildings, then pointed at us. They exchanged salutes, and the lieutenant strode over to us.
    “Listen up!”
    Chan and I were the only two who did. The rest of the platoon kept chattering. Then the big Indian said the same thing, only different: “Shut up!” The chatter stopped. “Okay, Lieutenant.”
    “We’re spending the night in the ARVN compound.” He pointed to the nearest and largest of the tin-roofed buildings. “The ARVNs are standing lines tonight so we can get some sleep. If we’re lucky, we will probably be here for a couple of weeks. Go ahead and stow your gear.” He turned to the Indian corporal. “Swift Eagle, I want a guard on the gear so our ARVNs don’t pick something up by mistake.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Dismissed!”
    The building didn’t impress me much, but the rest of the men acted like it was the Hilton. Chan and I dumped our gear and quickly strolled toward the village to avoid getting picked for guard duty.
    As we reached the south end of the bridge, a Vietnamese boy ran up to us with two eight-ounce Cokes in each hand.
    “I sell Coke. One dollar MPC.”
    “No thanks,” Chan said.
    “What you need, Marine?” The boy looked at me. “You need boom-boom. I can get.”
    “Chan, what’s boom-boom mean?”
    “I assume it’s a reference to a prostitute.”
    The kid looked at Chan.
    “Why you look like Marine? You same-same me.”
    Chan’s face tightened. He clenched his fists, and for an instant I thought he was going to belt the kid. I grabbed his arm and patted him on the shoulder.
    “Hey! What’s wrong?”
    Chan ignored me and glared at the kid like he still wanted to smack him.
    “I’m not same-same Vietnamese.” Chan shook my hand loose and grabbed the kid by the throat.