GREG

This story is copyrighted by the author James Guy and may not be reproduced without permission of the author.

He slowly became conscious and immediately spit out the foulness that was in his mouth. Greg realized that he was half submerged in a rice paddy. His fatigues were slightly charred and the smell of burnt clothing invaded his nostrils.

The first thing he did was check for his weapon, which was underneath him. The second check, for anyone around. The enemy so he could evade them and for friendlies so he would be safe. The third was to check to see if had all the body parts he was born with.

He found no one, good or bad around, at least alive. He also had all his parts, although they had been used rather roughly, more than god had intended. He was burned on his lower left leg and left arm. This was also the area of fatigues that was charred. He tried to remember what had happened. He saw the Huey, crashed one hundred00 meters away. Broken and burned with many bullet holes, with the pilot’s body laying half out of the shattered windshield. His mind went back to a few hours, or was it days before.

He was a member of the Special Forces and his twelve man a team was on a search mission. This was no regular unit. His tiger stripe fatigues bore no rank insignia, nametag or any other identification. His weapon was an AK-47.

Their mission was to insert 4 teams in an area suspected of being an NVA supply area, according to intelligence. Intelligence also said that the enemy felt they were in no danger so there were few enemy troops in the area. They had been pulled out to reinforce a battle at a place called Khe Sahn to the north about one hundred miles.

The chopper flew to the landing zone and Greg was in the second chopper. Someone had not done their homework. As the first chopper landed and Greg’s was coming in, the area became hell. The LZ was completely surrounded. Rockets, mortars and rifle fire opened up. The lead chopper took a direct hit with a rocket. As the chopper exploded, killing everyone aboard, Greg’s chopper reversed itself and began to rise. The other two choppers backed off and opened fire with their door guns. Two cobra gun ships that were flying support hit the area with everything it had. A flight of F-100s that was in the area obliged a request for assistance. Five F-100s deployed their full load of napalm on the area around the LZ. The strike force was recalled immediately. Unfortunately a rocket found its way into the center of Greg’s chopper. It malfunctioned and instead of destroying the chopper, it set the aircraft on fire. Men were on fire and the pilot attempted to land. The chopper had already received several rounds of AK-47 fire and two men had already been killed. Three men, totally engulfed in flames jumped as the chopper headed for the ground, others were burning, dying. Greg had climbed out of the burning aircraft and was hanging onto one of the chopper's skids while two others did the same.

Some of the ammo on board started to cook off due to the extreme heat. Several rounds went into the cockpit killing the co-pilot and badly wounding the pilot. Twenty feet from impact and ten feet from the ground, Greg let go, falling into a rice paddy. The others held on. Greg had a fleeting glimpse of the chopper nose dived into a rice paddy and exploding, killing those still alive. Greg blacked out as the ground came up and knocked the wind out of him. He had been fortunate that the water in the paddy, extinguished his burning fatigues and he landed with his head resting on a levee.

As Greg remembered all that happened, the burning sensation on his arm and leg brought him back to the present. He had lost his first aid kit but he had his food. Greg loved mustard. It killed the taste of the c-rations. He managed to scrounge about three0 packets of mustard from various sources, including care packages from home. He had been told by someone he knew that had worked in a fast food joint, that mustard was good on burns. As he liberally spread the yellow sauce on his leg and arm, he felt like a hot dog at a weenie roast. It may have sounded weird, but it worked.

He knew he had to get out of the area. Help would come from his side but the enemy would get there first. At the moment he had no idea where he was. He had lost all sense of direction since the rocket hit the chopper. He did not know how far or in what direction they had flown before crashing. He was not even sure if he was still in Vietnam since the LZ was only ten miles from the Cambodian border.

He checked his weapon to insure an unobstructed barrel and then slithered into the next rice paddy and away from the chopper. He headed for a line of trees where he hoped he could find cover as he was too exposed where he was. It took him an hour to reach the trees, as he did not want to hit a submerged land mine. Using his bayonet as a probe, he had found three of the nasties in three different paddies. As he reached the trees, night was falling and he heard the sound of people approaching the chopper from the opposite direction. He also could hear them speaking and it was not English. The lack of shooting indicated that all in the chopper were dead. Even the enemy would not waste ammo shooting a charred body. Fortunately, the dim light had hidden any trail he might have left.

Greg decided to stay put for the night. He climbed a tree, making sure he did not scar the bark. When he was two0 feet in the tree canopy, he tied himself to the tree and slept. As dawn broke, he heard choppers coming to the area. From his position he could see several enemy hidden in ambush. How could he warn the choppers? He had no radio and firing at the enemy would mean giving up his precarious position. The morning sun was in his face.

He dug into his fatigue pants and pulled out a small metal mirror. Using his knowledge of Morse code, he flashed several times at the lead chopper. Hopefully the pilot would get the idea. The lead pilot kept flying toward him and continued on. The last chopper flew over the wreckage and dropped something into the paddy. Greg decided it was time to move as he felt that maybe the enemy had seen his flashing mirror and they would be mad that he had destroyed their ambush. He climbed down as fast as he could and ran as fast and as quietly as he could away from the trees.

He ran some three miles when he heard the scream of a flight of f-4’s flying treetop to treetop. Suddenly there was the unmistakable sound and smell of napalm blasting everything in a mile radius from the marker that had been dropped by the tail end chopper. The lead pilot had gotten the message.

At least now, Greg knew what country he was in just not where. Even though the choppers had come in from the east, it did not mean he was still in Vietnam. He could see a mountain range to the west a few miles. He felt that he would be able to orientate himself given the altitude. If he could attract a passing aircraft he might be able to catch a ride. The danger was two fold, he would give his position away to the enemy and a friendly might suspect an ambush.

He finally saw a chopper coming in his direction so he flashed his signal mirror again. He got immediate attention. The chopper turned just as the gunner opened up with the door guns. Mortars started dropping near him. He could tell that from the direction they were coming from and ran in the opposite direction as fast as he could. The mortars belonged to the VC. Both sides were trying to kill him. From a safe position, he could see the chopper. It changed direction and went after the mortar crew. It would be a long walk home. He finally decided to forego the mirror and traveled west. He could either run into VC or Americans. With what had been happening every time he used his mirror, he could not have anything else go wrong, or so he thought.

He finally determined that he was somewhere south of the central highlands and west of the Vietnamese-Cambodian border. He stayed out of the rice paddies and in the jungle as much as possible. He traveled slowly with every sense he had, attuned to the sounds of the jungle. Three times he stopped when there was no sound. He moved cautiously and each time he found what made the jungle quiet. Once he had found the bodies of an American patrol. He did not investigate, as the bodies could be booby-trapped. Twice he found enemy bodies and stayed away for the same reason.

He came to a village. There was nothing alive. Everything had been slaughtered. Even the animals had been butchered. Many of the villagers had been shot. Several men and boys had been nailed to trees with their stomachs slit open. Ten young girls between eight and sixteen years old had been taken into the hootches. It was very obvious that they had been raped and tortured before they died. One of the older girls had had her breasts removed and a large bamboo stake had been rammed into her vagina and one in her rectum. A sign in Vietnamese hung around her neck. Although he could not read it, he knew the enemy had carried out the slaughter as a warning. The sight sickened him and he moved on. The bodies had been cold. As he left the village he found a man spread-eagled on the ground. His genitals had been cut off and stuffed into his mouth. His head was in his stomach. Greg left the village and deposited the entire contents of his stomach by the trail.

He kept going but now was even more vigilant. He knew the enemy was around, somewhere. 5 miles later he went to ground in the underbrush and waited. He had smelled something that warned him that he was about to run into the enemy. After a while he crept closer to the area of the smell. 4 enemy soldiers were having lunch by the side of the trail. The smell of Nuoc Nam assailed his nostrils. He knew he had to wait them out.

As he waited, he noticed a pair of feet behind the soldiers. This was not a soldier. It was at this moment a soldier pulled a young woman into view. Ropes bound her. She was obviously Eurasian and very lovely. One of the soldiers grabbed the young woman and ripped her AO Dai away from her, leaving her naked from the waist up. She did not move or make a sound. Not even when the soldier pushed her and prodded her into the bushes where he intended to rape her.

Greg quietly left his position and followed the soldier and the girl. The soldier pushed her down and pulled off her pants. The girl’s hands were still tied behind her. As the soldier removed his web gear and was struggling with his pants, Greg pulled his survival knife and slipped up behind the soldier and slit the enemy’s throat. Greg motioned for the girl to remain silent and still. Then he took the enemy’s AK-47 and left. A few minutes later there was the sound of AK-47 fire, then quiet. Greg returned to the girl, untied her and gave her back her clothes. He hid the body in the bushes and rubbed out the scuffmarks in the dirt. Motioning to the girl, he led her away from the scene.

They kept quiet and moved swiftly through the underbrush until they came to a river 5 miles away. They were on a ledge about two0 feet above the river and Greg motioned the girl to stop and rest. Greg looked at the girl and motioned to her to take off her Ao Dai, which she did. She realized that this American was just like the VC he had rescued her from. He motioned her to turn around. Greg took his canteen and apiece of his T-shirt, wet it and started to clean the scrapes and scratches. Starting at the back he worked until he faced her. He then cleaned her face, arms and hands. He handed her the wet cloth for her to finish. Then he motioned her to get dressed.

The girl’s eyes widened as she realized that she had been wrong. "Thank you," she said in perfect English. Greg was startled. "Yes, I do speak English, also French and Chinese." Greg’s mouth dropped, "how?" "My grandfather was the village chieftain and my uncle was the catholic priest. My uncle arranged for me to go to school in Paris. I came home three weeks ago. Last night the VC attacked the village. They raped and tortured my sister and made me watch as they mutilated her. They staked my grandfather on the ground "she sobbed "they cut off . . ."Greg interrupted " I know. I found the village and saw what they did. But why did they take you away?" "The man you killed said he had a taste of a French Vietnamese woman and saved me for himself. He killed my mother when she tried to fight him." "And your father?" Greg said. "He was killed by the Viet Minh when I was little. He was at Dien Bien Phu with the French foreign legion. He was a German who had fought in the German army during the war. I actually have a French and Vietnamese citizenship. My name is Claudine Van Der Horst, a typical French name." They both laughed at the facetious remark.

Suddenly there was a noise and they both went still. Up the trail Greg could see an enemy soldier strolling down the trail, oblivious to any danger. He was alone and not prepared to see anyone here. Claudine softly called to the soldier and asked for help. She said she had hurt her leg. As the soldier came toward her and looked around a strange look came over his face. "If you want my help, you will pay first. Take off you clothes and lay down." Claudine slowly unbuttoned her Ao Dai. She stopped when Greg quickly and efficiently slit the throat of the would-be rapist. As Greg started to move the body, Claudine stopped him. "Give me his shirt." then she stripped to the waist and put on the man’s shirt. She took his web gear and other equipment, including the AK-47. "I am not a helpless woman and I can shoot. I am getting very tired of soldiers trying to rape me." "Are you sure you are Vietnamese? You sound like some American girls I know back home."

Claudine laughed. "I had some American friends in Paris. They taught me to be self assured and some American soldiers I met taught me how to shoot when they heard I was coming home." she took the weapon, cleared it and said, "let’s get out of here. I know where there is an American base about two0 miles from here to the west." Greg could only reply, "lead the way, but do me a favor, leave your shirt on, please. I have been here too long and you are very beautiful." "Thank you," she said, "Sin Loa."

Several hours later they came across an Arvin patrol, or what was left of it. All six of the men were dead. It was obvious that three had been killed in a firefight while two had their hands tied behind them. They had been shot in the back of the head. The last man was nailed to a tree upside down. Not only were his clothes gone, but also most of his skin which had been peeled off, strip by strip. He had been castrated and left alive with a wet rawhide band tied around his head above his eyes. The rawhide had dried and constricted around his head. Flies and ants covered his body. Greg and Claudine went around the site.

The closer they got to the American base, the more signs they saw of enemy activity. All the signs indicated that a major attack on the base was imminent. Claudine suddenly left the trail and turned south into the jungle. Since her instincts were good, Greg followed without a word. He also had been ready to suggest a different line of travel.

Unexpectedly, they came to an Arvin camp. The camp had at one time been a French fort and was surrounded by four-foot thick twenty feet high brick walls. Claudine quickly slipped into her Ao Dai and motioned for Greg to go into the bush. She then approached the sentry that she had seen. After a few minutes, she suddenly hugged the sentry and beckoned Greg to come on the double. As Greg ran toward her, several Arvin joined them and they all moved into the fort. Claudine explained that these could be trusted. They were Vietnamese Special Forces and the sentry and at least one hundred0 others were her relatives. In fact, the camp commander was her uncle. Claudine spoke a long time to her uncle who invited them to dinner. Greg and Claudine explained everything that had happened, from Greg’s chopper going down to the village slaughter and the patrol they found.

Since neither had slept well or at all for two or three days, the commander led them to a small house that was inside the fort. Greg felt a little uncomfortable but grateful for a chance to sleep. Claudine had other ideas. She led him into a room with a large tub filled with hot soapy water. Claudine told Greg to get in and then left.

Greg slipped beneath the clean hot water and relaxed, head leaning back and his eyes closed. He suddenly felt a presence and tensed. He carefully opened one eye and then both eyes opened. Claudine had returned and was getting into the tub also. Without a word, she sat down opposite Greg and stretched out without touching him. "Sin loi, I did not wish to disturb you, but I too needed a bath and this is the only tub in the house." she said.

They stayed like that for some time without speaking. Greg had a hard time not staring at Claudine’s natural attributes. Finally, he concentrated at the bridge of her nose. After two0 minutes, Claudine told him to kneel, which he did. She then took a sponge, knelt in front of him and began to wash him. Then she told him to stand as she deftly cleaned his lower parts. Then she told him to do the same to her. They found themselves standing facing each other but not touching or speaking.

They got out of the tub and dried off. Greg looked at the brown water where once it had been clean. "Who is going to clean that mess up?" "Maybe mama-san" Claudine giggled. She led him to one of the bedrooms and kissed him. Then she pushed him down on the bed. Then she turned around, turned the light off and said "good night" as she left and closed the door. Greg was startled but did not mind. He fell asleep quickly but before he did, he looked at his watch. It was 9 pm. he was instantly awake, but it took him a minute to realize where he was. Checking his watch he realized it was six am. He tried to determine what woke him, then his senses told him. The aroma of fresh coffee, and bacon and eggs frying assailed his nostrils.

He picked up his fatigues and got a shock. Not only were they cleaned and the rips mended; even the burned area looked like someone had removed the burnt areas and replaced them with new cloth. He had to break starch to put them on. Even his weapon was cleaned. His boots were cleaned but not polished. He checked the weapon and found it in perfect order. Even his survival knife and bayonet were freshly honed razor sharp.

As he was finishing checking his weapon, the door opened and Claudine entered with a tray of food, which she put on a table in the corner. The she came and kissed him. "Good morning," she said. "I hope you are not disappointed about last night. I am a catholic and believe in saving myself until I am married," Greg half smiled. "I too am catholic and have the same beliefs, but I was very tempted last night. Claudine continued, "three of my uncles were catholic priests who were martyred by the Viet Cong because of their religion. Could I do less?" Neither spoke, then but ate their meal, but they stared into each other’s eyes and into each other’s hearts. Greg did not want to leave.

As they finished eating, there was a knock on the door and the commander came in. "I trust you slept well. I hope your clothing was prepared to your satisfaction. My wife had a little problem with the burned areas but your tiger stripes and ours are similar. They are rather strange for American tiger stripes, he said with a sarcastic grin. "How bout that," grinned Greg. "But she should not have taken the trouble." "Trouble? Not at all, it is not every day that one can repay someone who has done a great service to ones family. But I do have a favor to ask of you." "Name it," said Greg.

"I want you to get Claudine out of the country. Since she is the only survivor of her village, the VC will be looking for her. Word has already reached us that the hunt for her has started." "I will get her out, but I need to get her to my base. I am probably listed as missing presumed KIA." "I know your commander and we will take you to the Special Forces camp within the hour.

As promised, within one hour thirteen Special Forces troops, in their tiger stripe fatigues joined Greg. Their fatigues were similar but different. Greg was at least a foot taller than these soldiers were. Greg was suddenly startled to see that on closer inspection, Claudine was the thirteenth. He almost did not recognize her. These men carried M-16s. The commander advised Greg that all of these men were Claudine’s cousins. As they left the fort, they quickly left the trail and melted into the jungle and within five miles they were deep in the foliage as there was no trail to follow.

It took six hours to reach the American base, but the base was abandoned. Signs were everywhere that there had been a major attack and the base had been over run. The signs were about two00 dead VC and destroyed structures. As the VC had over run the base, and were glorified in their victory, they found they had a tiger by the tail. The Americans had called in a spooky gunship to eradicate a vermin problem. Greg was very solemn, as this was his base. He found several bodies of friends and buried them. There were ten American bodies. Greg knew there were more than one hundred men at the base. The rest had either escaped or had been captured. A force of one hundred00 Special Forces would hardly surrender. Greg suddenly remembered the tunnel.

When the team had first moved into this base camp, they needed sand bags for the perimeter, mortar pit, et cetera. Some of the more ingenious troops had decided to fill the bags while they were digging a tunnel. These Yankees had learned from the VC. The tunnel was an escape route but woe be to him who followed the Americans into the tunnel. Starting from the entrance to half way through the tunnel, there were M-26 grenades and thermite grenades in the walls. They would all be detonated at once by one trip wire located half a mile into the tunnel. The tunnel stretched another two miles. The last man would set the trip wire. The tunnel was large enough for two men six feet tall to walk comfortably.

Greg led his friends around the perimeter and away from the camp. A mile later they turned and circled the camp. They followed a trail into the jungle. Greg was cautious, as he did not want to lead the VC to the tunnel exit nor be ambushed by his own people. About two miles down the trail Greg stopped and told the Vietnamese to blend into the foliage.

As the Vietnamese did as he said, Greg started to whistle "Dixie" which was quite an accomplishment because he whistled badly. A soft whistle of "The Yellow Rose of Texas" was returned. Greg’s response was "Johnny Comes Marching Home." a voice called "Yahtahe" and Greg responded "Kemo Sabe." Suddenly one hundred00 American Special Forces surrounded them with weapons drawn. Greg saw a man coming toward him and Greg held up the peace sign. The man motioned to them to follow him and Greg motioned to the Vietnamese and they all followed the man without a word.

They came to a clearing and stopped. Greg went forward to talk to his friend who was a sergeant. "We saw Picket’s Charge and what was left of little round top. Where is Jeb Stuart?" "Jeb Stuart went to meet George Custer during the first charge." all of the Vietnamese including Claudine looked at the two of them with a puzzled look. They all spoke English but what were these men speaking, they did not know. Greg called Claudine over. "Tom, this is Claudine and we need to get her out of Vietnam and fast. Her village made Wounded Knee look like a Boy Scout camp out." Greg and Tom walked away a bit and conversed as Greg filled Tom in on what had happened. They came back to the group and Tom said "Claudine, we will get you out but for the moment we have a minor problem. A regiment or two of NVA regulars surrounds us. We know that the First Cav is trying to break thru to us from the south and the herd is coming from the west but they are meeting heavy resistance. Your cousins can stay here and be welcome as we can use every weapon. They may choose to leave and warn your uncle. "My uncle already knows. I knew you had been attacked but not that you had been over run. Three will go back and tell him. He can bring one hundred and fifty Special Forces with him. Here is a letter my uncle wrote to your commander. Where is he? "Dead," said Greg. "Tom told me that the colonel had been killed during the first attack, after I had told him we had seen the camp." "That is what you two said? I thought you had been smoking some funny cigarettes." all three laughed. "Tom and I are from families that have fought for our country since the revolutionary war. We are also history buffs. The reference we used were Jeb Stuart (the colonel) George Custer (who was killed at Little Big Horn) Wounded Knee (the Indian village massacred by the soldiers. Picket’s Charge and Little Round Top (Gettysburg) are just ways to confuse anyone who may be listening.

Suddenly an arrow landed in the clearing. Tom and Greg led the allied troops to the exit and into the tunnel. None of the other Americans had been seen since their first appearance. Tom put the earpiece to his radio in his ear. Greg picked up a spare radio and did the same. A whisper said that a patrol-sized unit was moving down the trail from the north. Another whisper said another patrol was moving from the south. "This could get interesting," said Tom. They were a mile apart. "Arrows" said Tom into the radio. A half-hour later a whisper said that twenty NVA uniforms and weapons were in the clearing. Greg went to get them. The Vietnamese were surprised when the uniforms and weapons were brought in. "how?" said Claudine." Greg shrugged; "guess someone left a donation" said Tom.

Greg told the Vietnamese to put on the NVA uniforms, which all thirteen did. Greg and Tom looked at each other. Greg said "Who?" Tom said "Wait one" he spoke into the radio and five minutes later five men came into the tunnel. They were all about five foot six inches, about the same size as the NVA. When the twenty uniforms were put on, it was hard to realize they were not NVA. Each person wore a green strip of cloth on their arm. And two had hearing aids.

The manufactured NVA came out of the tunnel and were met by two0 of Tom’s men. "How are we going to play this?" said one of the men. "First we will go out and gather enough uniforms to supply the rest. Then we will infiltrate the NVA and slip thru their trap." "Sounds like a plan," said Greg. "Let’s do it."

The twenty NVA irregulars moved out, twenty minutes later another ten uniforms were dispersed and now there were thirty irregulars. As the operation continued, the NVA lost one hundred and one men, but they were not missed as the irregulars took their place. 4 hours later one hundred0one hundred irregulars filtered through the NVA lines. Five hours later, one hundred Vietnamese Special Forces ran into some very strange NVA regulars. Fortunately, Claudine’s uncle was in the lead and recognized his kinsmen. "Only crazy Americans could slip one hundred men and one hundred woman through the NVA lines and take out an equal amount of enemy without any noise." "Does gurgling count," said one of the men making a slashing motion at his neck. They all laughed.

"Now that we are through the VC trap, we need to get Claudine out of the country safely." said Greg. "I know of a way," said Tom. He outlined his plan to Greg, Claudine and her uncle but no one else. Tom used an emergency radio that he had carried with him and two hours later a medivac chopper landed at the fort. Two Special Forces soldiers carried another heavily bandaged soldier aboard the chopper. Behind the medivac were twenty-five choppers, which landed and picked up the whole contingent and then flew out.

an hour later, all the choppers landed at Cam Rahn Bay and all one hundred and one soldiers boarded the C-141. Their orders were to return to the states and train other soldiers in their way of fighting. The escape from the NVA was, to put it mildly, unique. Tom and Greg led the contingent onto the plane, still in their tiger stripe fatigues and carrying AK-47s. They landed at night some one hundred4 hours later at Davis Monthan AFB. They immediately boarded several buses with blacked out windows. The buses pulled up to a hanger, entered and the hanger doors closed.

Twenty four hours later, three buses pulled out of the hanger and 89 men in civilian clothes were bused to the tarmac and they reboarded same c one hundred4one hundred and flew away. 4 air force sedans with blacked out windows pulled up and three people got into each vehicle. The vehicles then drove down the road, out of the main gate until they reached the highway. Two cars turned south, one going to Fort Huachuca and the other to Fort Bliss, Texas. The other two cars turned north. One of the northbound cars headed towards San Diego and the other towards Phoenix. This car eventually drove to Williams Air Force Base.

Six months later, Greg was living in San Francisco as a civilian. His hair was longer and he was cleaner than he had been six months earlier. He had also lost his tan. He had spent a month at brooks army hospital in the burn ward. He needed some repair work on the burns he received when the chopper had crashed. Nothing major but he had developed an infection. It would have been worse had he not used the mustard.

Greg had returned to college on his G.I.. bill and fortunately no traumatic stress haunted him. He occasionally thought back to those last few days in Vietnam and of Claudine. it was she who was the wounded soldier that boarded the C-141 at Cam Rahn Bay. When she got off the plane, she looked just like any other Special Forces soldiers in tiger stripe fatigues. Since she was 5 feet six inches tall, she fit in perfectly. It would have been impossible for any one to notice her among one hundred and one men in fatigues and carrying M-16s.

One night, Greg decided to eat at a Japanese restaurant on California Street. He had gone Asiatic and enjoyed oriental food, but not Chinese or Vietnamese. The restaurant was small, seating only about two5 people, including those at the counter. As he prepared to savor his yakusoba, sushi and rice, a young woman approached and handed him a strip of green cloth. It was torn from an olive drab T-shirt. "Sin Loi, I did not have a chance to return this to you earlier." It was the armband that they all wore when they went through the NVA lines. He looked up to see the woman he had fallen in love with.

She was dressed as an American woman in college. T-shirt, jeans and sandals. Her hair was shorter than when he had last seen her, a little longer than shoulder length and tied in a French braid. "How did you like the lecture on the civil war in history class today?" "How, where were you?" "I was sitting two rows behind you. Sarge Mackenzie really gets into his history, doesn’t he? I even knew what he was talking about when he described little round top. I could remember since I had been there in person." Greg did not hear a word, as he was lost in her beauty. "Will you marry me," they both said in unison. "Yes" they said simultaneously.

They were married in St. Anne’s of the Sunset six months later. Claudine had been allowed to immigrate as a French citizen rather than Vietnamese. She had never used the Van Der Horst name in Vietnam but instead used her mother’s Vietnamese name. With her French education, she was able to transfer to the University of San Francisco and majored in nursing. Some of the courses, naturally, she had to take such as American history and u.s. government. These were required for graduation. She also needed to take a language, so she took French.

It was in the history class that she had seen Greg. She had almost leapt across the two rows of chairs, but had restrained herself. She had lost track of him in the rush to leave after class. She did not know that he was a civilian. She imagined him still fighting in Vietnam. Claudine had spent had spent two months of intelligence de-briefings and counseling because of the destruction of her village. The big surprise, even to the government was her wealth. Claudine was the only survivor of her father’s family wealth. They had recovered rapidly after the war and were extremely wealthy. Claudine was the only one left as her father had been an only child and Claudine the only one to survive the slaughter of the village.

Claudine kept in contact with her uncle through letters smuggled in and out by Special Forces personnel who were friends. Her uncle was well liked and accepted as an equal by the Americans he had helped. Many of those who had escaped the circle of death had returned to Vietnam for another tour. Many did not come back. One particular letter set Claudine to tears. Six of the cousins who had penetrated the NVA lines had been killed along with their families. They were all in the same building when a 122-millimeter rocket hit the building. The unit was now down to 50 men but the fort was sound. Although safe, they were unable to patrol, as that would leave the fort undermanned. Vietnamese soldiers usually had their families with them.

One night in 1975, there was a knock on the door. Greg’s old friend Tom stood in the doorway. "We have a mission," he said. He outlined the mission and a week later six Special Forces personnel landed at Claudine’s uncle’s fort by helicopter. The Huey was unloaded quickly. Around six p.m. that night, 4 marine helicopters with six cobra gunships flying cover landed at the fort. Thirty minutes later they all flew out. The enemy was taken completely by surprise and it took forty-five minutes to gather enough forces to attack the fort. The enemy attacked in mass, but there was no return fire. Several VC were able to scale the walls and found the fort empty. They opened the gates and the entire force moved in. They checked every building to find them deserted. Naturally, the next thing they did was loot the buildings, piling everything in the center of the compound.

Suddenly a one hundred-man NVA force entered and the VC sheepishly stopped the looting. The NVA colonel was furious. He wanted the fort as his command center and ordered everything to be returned especially the furniture. He then ordered the South Vietnamese flag lowered and the North Vietnamese flag raised. As the flag was being lowered, a small metal piece attached to the lanyard and unseen in the darkness touched an electrical connection. That connection was wired to three thousand pounds of explosives that was buried in the floor of each building, buried in the center of the compound and in the walls of the fort.

The helicopters were twenty-five miles away when a very bright flash lit up the sky. The shock wave leveled the fort and every tree for a one-mile radius. At the center of the explosion was a crater a half mile in circumference and 90 feet deep. Greg looked at Tom. "Guess somewhat got a big kick out of lowering a flag," he chuckled.

The choppers flew ten miles out to sea and landed on an aircraft carrier. Along side the carrier was a navy transport. The escapees were ferried to the transport, which then steamed away. On board were the six Special Forces, 50 Vietnamese soldiers and their families. A total of two hundred and twenty-five men women and children.

The Vietnamese commander met with the Americans. "Now that we have time to talk, how did you know of our plight." Tom replied, "first we read the intelligence reports and we knew that a massive force was coming to eliminate you. It seems you made a few enemies. The south will fall in a few days and there is no way to stop it. The embassy is being evacuated and we are trying to pick up as many of our friends that we can. Your men were our number one hundred priority. We owed you big time. Secondly, a little bird told us." At that Greg stepped forward and saluted. "I could not have my wife’s family end up dead or in a reeducation camp. Besides, we are family now." Another soldier in tiger stripe fatigues and wearing face paint and a bush hat pushed forward and hugged the commander. "We were too busy to talk and I knew you would be upset if you knew I was here, uncle" her uncle replied "you have been around these Americans much too long. I did not even recognize my favorite niece. You left the safety of America to rescue your family. Your father and mother would be proud of their daughter." "Greg and Tom could not keep me away when they said they were coming. I am just sorry that we could not have been here earlier to save all of you." "They died for a cause and we all knew that we would either succeed or die. Now we must go forward, but to do what we do not know. We have been soldiers too long and we do not want charity." "Leave that to me, uncle. I am an American now."

Somewhere in the north pacific, Claudine and Greg acquired some ten thousand acres of forestland. There were open areas suitable for farming, a river and a lake. They were 40 miles from the nearest town and this was virgin country. The Vietnamese settled in and became farmers. They also became loggers and soon the small village resembled Boonsboro, Kentucky circa one 1700’s. All of the buildings were made from logs harvested from the forest, there was no electricity but the ingenious Vietnamese had running water. They did have a generator for the small medical clinic, which was staffed by a Vietnamese doctor and Claudine. There was even a Catholic Church as the Vietnamese were all catholic. Both the priest and the doctor had been at the fort when they were evacuated. The priest taught school to everyone. He also taught English and French to the children. Soon the villagers spoke English with a French accent.

The town’s people did not want the Vietnamese and their hatred and bigotry were soon felt. They refused to sell any goods to the villagers and even protested. "Vietnamese go home" was on billboards everywhere. Since the property was owned by an American and his wife, their protests got no where but to alienate the towns people and the villagers. The town’s people did have enough sway and refused to allow electricity to be furnished to the village. The Vietnamese stayed out of town. The Vietnamese raised their own crops and fished the lake and river. When they did need something, a former helicopter pilot from Vietnam flew in and out of the village. For five years the villagers flourished and buried some old wounds, but new ones had been opened.

One winter, a tremendous storm deluged the area. The village was far enough away that it was not effected. The town on the other hand was in danger of being washed away by the rising water. The federal government put the state governor on notice. The National Guard was not to help the town or face losing any federal money. The National Guard was called up, but it protected other towns down river. The river was rising and the citizens were in a panic. The only bridge across the river had been washed out and the levee was in danger of breaking. The town of 500 people would be swept down river should the levee break. A town council was called and during the meeting, a woman rushed in with her oldest son. "Fred and our two small children are trapped at our farm," she cried. Fred was the source of the protests against the Vietnamese. He hated Orientals of any kind since his family had fought the Japanese during World War II. He had been 4-F for Vietnam. Their farm was about ten miles north of town and the only way across a creek by their farm was a small bridge. The rising creek had eliminated the bridge.

The river flowed by the town on the West Side and the creek flowed on the East Side. If the river and creek both crested or the levees broke, the town was gone. Many of the town’s men and boys manned the levees with sometimes help from the wives and girls. Many they stood by and watched them and bemoaned the flood around them. Weather reports indicated a new storm was behind the first and there was no let up in sight. Twenty-five inches of rain had already fallen in three days. At the news, many of those on the levee abandoned it. The rest collapsed on the levee and tried to sleep in the rain. They were exhausted.

Early in the morning the town’s people were startled to see three0 wagons, pulled by a few tractors, horses and by men and women. Each wagon was overfilled with sandbags. Half went to the river and half to the creek. 80 men and women launched themselves at the levee unloading the sandbags and raising the levee some five feet. Ten more men went through the town and headed towards Fred’s farm. The men were all dressed in tiger stripe fatigues and the women in Ao Dais. Some of the older boys and girls wore jeans. Among these new comers, there was heard Vietnamese, French and English. An American led the crew on the creek while a commanding figure led the crew on the river. Fred’s wife ran up to Greg, "you must save my husband and children," she said pointing to the north. "Why?" said Greg? "Fred is the man who wants the Vietnamese to go home, to go back to be slaughtered like animals. He is the one who persuaded this town to refuse the sale of even a loaf of bread to refugees. And yet you want us to risk our lives saving him?" "It is only the humane thing to do," she replied "Fred is a human being." "And what are these people?" he said motioning to the men and women man handling sandbags. She turned away sobbing and ran north through the town. Suddenly she stopped and yelled "Fred" at the top of her lungs. Fred was being carried on a stretcher by 4 Vietnamese while two others carried the children on their shoulders. As his wife ran up to him, Fred turned and said, "I was wrong. They forded the creek and found us. The house is gone and it had collapsed on us. I don’t know how, but they pulled us out and brought us here." "He will be all right, he has a broken leg but I set it. The children are fine," said a young Eurasian woman in tiger stripes. Fred’s wife said, pointing to Greg, he said he would not send anyone to help us. "My husband knew I was there with my cousins but he is a stubborn man. He does not like the way the town has treated his friends. These men, she said pointing to the Vietnamese saved my husband and his company in Vietnam. He in turned rescued the Vietnamese soldiers. He holds a lot of bitterness toward Americans for the way they treat the American G.I.s., but you can see we do not feel that way. It is our way of repaying America for our lives. We will leave you in peace again when the weather clears." then she went to her husband.

Three months later one of the Vietnamese teenagers came running into the village. There are men coming through the forest," he said to Greg. Greg and Caledonia’s uncle along with the rest of the villagers went into the forest to meet the trespassers. At the head of the towns people was Fred. He carried a white flag. We have come in peace. We come to thank these people for helping us when we needed it. They did not need to risk their lives saving us and we are, I am, ashamed of the way they were treated. As a sign of our apology, we have carved a road through the forest and we are bringing in a power line. We will pave the road shortly and you are welcome in our town as friends."

Claudine’s uncle who was now the village chief greeted Fred. He held out his hand and shook it. "It is a big man who can learn and admit when he was wrong. I too admit that I was against the village helping but my niece and her husband persuaded me to do what was right. Come, we invite you to a typical Vietnamese meal." he turned to the villagers and spoke in Vietnamese. Some went to gather tables in the village square while others began to prepare the meal. Soon the town’s people sat down to a typical Vietnamese meal. Home made hot dogs, hamburgers and corn on the cob. All products from their village. Fred joked with the chieftain and Greg." what is in this bottle as he poured it on his hamburger? It is delicious." "That my friend is what makes this a Vietnamese meal. It is called Nuoc Nam," said Greg.