Excerpt



Just as Major Burnette's helicopter was touching down, a rifle bullet came through the open door from the direction of town, zipped in front of his nose, and then struck the inside of the right side of the helicopter. It had scared the living crap out of the U.S. Army crew-chief in the helicopter, since he was also manning the machinegun in the right door as the chopper settled down for the landing. The thought had occurred to Burnette at the time that this new assignment could bring a hell of a lot more action than hed bargained for when he was trying to get away from that desk job at Agua Dulce. It could also get him sent back to the States in a box, or at least with a part of his body missing or maimed. In that event, hed have very little chance of staying on active duty in the Army, or possibly doing much of anything else, for that matter. He was wondering whether this added experience was going to be such a wise choice after all. No time to bemoan those matters now. Hed already made a basic decision at this point theyd double back to locate the regimental commander and find out what the situation was, and what was being done to get the battle moving in the right direction.

An incoming mortar round came in with an eerie whistling sound. Burnette threw himself flat on the ground near the wall, his mouth open to protect his eardrums from the anticipated blast and concussion of the impending explosion. All he could hear at that moment was the panicky sound of the Matagordan radio operator sitting under the roof of the shed, pleading desperately into the microphone for someone in the airborne command post to answer his call. In an instant the shell exploded, and the air filled almost immediately with dust and chunks from the over-hanging tile roof hitting all around. This was followed by the mixed cries of pain and fear of those whod been hit and those who werent yet sure what exactly had happened to them and their buddies along the street.

The American officer looked up and saw the dust clearing enough to make out blurred outlines of houses down the street. There were small groups of civilians huddled in the doorways of their homes and businesses, not sure whether to retreat inside to escape the pending onslaught of the next volley of mortar fire, or whether to make a dash for other cover that might prove to be more protective. Burnette had forgotten the regimental Sergeant Major, Ruben Mendoza, whod been moving up with him as they entered the town. At that moment the sergeant started shouting at the civilians to get inside and stay out of the way, to prevent certain death or maiming from the battle that was imminent.



A door on the front of the second building down the street opened cautiously, and a young man in a dark green rebel uniform stepped out with his rifle poised at his hip. The firing had died down momentarily, and the incoming mortars were now hitting down the street to the west. The enemy soldier looked as though he thought the street was relatively clear as he stepped forward, looking down the street in the direction of the ensuing battle. At that moment, Burnette raised his pistol and let go with three rounds in the direction of the Progresivo soldier. The first round hit to the left of the soldier, but the recoil from the 45 caliber pistol raised the line of fire to the right so that the next two bullets struck the soldier in the center of his torso. The impact hurled the man against the supporting post of the roof in front of the shop, then into the ditch next to the street. Sergeant Major Mendoza snapped his head around to look at Burnette, smiled, and raised his thumb in approval. The American knew theyd been lucky shots, but it made an impression on the senior Matagordan NCO.

When they arrived at the first street intersection, rifle and machinegun bullets started spraying all around them, kicking up the dust in the street and throwing plaster chips at them as they ricocheted from the more permanent buildings. It seemed strange they should be able to smell the acrid odor of cordite from mortar rounds that had exploded in this area only a short time earlier. The advisor, being initiated to battle, thought it funny that this new odor should override the smell of all the rotted food scraps, urine, and human waste that were permanently imbedded in the ground all around the buildings along the street. The human smells should be predominant, even in light of the recent bombardment. Since it hadnt rained for many weeks, Burnette thought the human smells should be much stronger than any of the odors emanating from the explosives.

As they moved out at the run, a bullet caught the soldier who was moving at Burnette's immediate right rear. He let out a screeching yell as he hit the street and rolled over in the dust. The Major and his interpreter stopped to check the soldier, who was already dragging himself up against the wall. Then, the firing stopped almost as quickly as it had begun. They could only deduce the enemy had a very limited field of fire, along that stretch of the street where theyd just passed. They checked the soldier quickly and saw that hed taken a slug in his right shoulder. Longoria, the interpreter, assured the man hed be fine and hustled him on down the street. Burnette saw that the Sergeant Major and the other riflemen were almost to the end of the street near the landing zone where theyd come in only a short time earlier. The battle outside of town was progressing at a different pace than the cat-and-mouse activity going on in the street fighting back in the town itself.