The Village Read Online Free Page A

himself and bothered no one. And on the other hand, no one pushed him. Tall and wiry, he had the hand-and-eye coordination of a basketball forward. He was an expert with a LAW, or Light Anti-Armor Weapon, a three-foot piece of fiberglass tubing enclosing a self-propelled rocket which could stop a tank or blow up a bunker. On operations, Faircloth had been his company’s antibunker specialist. Beebe wanted Faircloth along on the first village patrol.
    For the patrol’s point man, Beebe selected Corporal Phillip Brannon, an experienced tactician with an outgoing personality. Unlike Faircloth, Brannon enjoyed joking and horseplay and by his grinning, gangling manner invited practical jokes and childish horseplay. Not that he was all fun and games. He claimed that back home in West Texas he had hit a running jack rabbit at seventy yards with a .22 rifle, and those who had watched him fire his M-14 automatic rifle believed him. Not that Brannon was given to bragging. Self-deprecatory in his humor, he had the knack of communicating with the Vietnamese despite a limited vocabulary. Brannon loved to pantomime, and by exaggerated motions of clumsiness and wry expressions of face, he evoked the language of laughter. But Beebe had not placed him at point because he made people laugh; Brannon walked first because he carried a fast rifle.
    Beebe himself was going on the patrol, and PFC L. L. Page pestered him to be the fourth Marine. Page was the youngest of the group, of average height and less physically tough than most of the volunteers. Beebe felt responsible for him. Page had desperately wanted to go to the village, and Beebe thought it was a good idea because Page, with his unassuming manner and lack of egotism, wore well in close quarters. Beebe had argued with the battalion officers that he could teach Page tactics while they were in the village. So Page went on the first patrol.
    Wanting the PFs to make a good impression, Lam had asked Nguyen Suong to go on the patrol. The Popular Forces had no formal rank structure and the district chief had never even appointed a leader for those at Binh Nghia, supposedly because he did not want to waste a good man on a suicidal assignment. Suong had gradually emerged as the unofficial PF leader. Of medium build and mean eyes, Suong was distinguishable mainly by his gold front tooth and the sharp creases in his green utility uniform. His neat dress deceived the Marines.
    â€œHe doesn’t look like a field soldier to me,” Brannon said. “He’s too clean.”
    Lam insisted otherwise.
    â€œWell,” Beebe said, “let’s get going and find out what has people so shaken up about this ville.”
    The four Marines stood in a group waiting while Suong talked rapidly and forcefully to two PFs. The PFs were shaking their heads and replying nervously, but Suong kept jabbing his finger at them and answering in strong tones. Beebe looked quizzically at Lam.
    â€œThose two have not seen much combat,” Lam said. “Suong say to them that they be safe with Marines.”
    Finally, one of the PFs walked reluctantly past the Marines and stood in front of them. He was to be the guide. Brannon stepped up behind him. Each time the PF would turn nervously around, Brannon winked and smiled. The PF did not seem encouraged. Beebe stood behind Brannon, followed by Suong, Page, another PF and Faircloth.
    â€œDi-di,” Beebe said, gesturing at the point PF.
    In the dimming light, the patrol passed through the incomplete breastworks in front of the fort onto the main path which led eastward straight across open paddies for a quarter of a mile before turning north and disappearing into a black mass of trees which surrounded the hamlet of Binh Yen Noi. The same treeline paralleled the path all the way to the fort, passing not thirty yards to the rear of the moat. But before entering cover, Beebe wanted to see how the patrol looked in the open.
    It looked miserable, more