The daylight was entirely up by then.
Outside the base the sky was grey and a cold wind was blowing over the corpses and the craters left by the explosions of the battle.
No one was talking.
All of the Baker team members were still geared up like the night before, the weapons still in their hands, the faces still made up with camouflage paint.
Martinez was standing in the middle of nowhere while looking at the Baker team men wandering around the bodies on the ground.
In the beginning, Martinez thought that they were stealing the goods off the corpses, just like every single soldier of every single army in the whole world does.
Only then did he realize that they were just searching them.
They were leaving in place all of their items but the AK magazines.
As a matter of fact, the day before the Baker team had showed up armed with AK rifles.
About sixty corpses were scattered around the base and the Baker team picked more AK ammo than the amount they had used that night.
Barry greeted Martinez and Ortega with a wave of the hand, then he invited the commander to follow him around the base, and he agreed.
-
As Barry and Martinez arrived at Danforth's advanced hole, they both had to put a neckerchief over their mouths and noses, because of the smell.
Death has a rotten, stinging smell and once is usually enough to remember it for the rest of your life. Everyone remembers it for ever.
Danforth's hole smell in particular was extremely strong.
It looked like someone had just used it as a slaughter house.
No sign was left of the head that Danforth had severed in there, but the rest of the corpse was there, all curled up in the middle of a small lake of blood and looking at the way it was lying, that beheaded body probably had all of its bones broken too.
It had probably been screwed up into a ball like that by Danforth himself, in order to get more space inside such a small fighting-hole
So the two of them spent some time still in front of the hole puzzled and disgusted, trying to figure out what the hell had really happened in there.
The soil was filled with congealed blood and midges.
Martinez crouched to take the body out of there.
“Don't do it – said Barry stopping him - . You should just fill the hole”
“It isn't deep enough to bury a body”
“Maybe. It's just I wouldn't take it away from here, if I was in your shoes. I would just cover it”
Since he was tired of holding the neckerchief with his hand, Martinez tied it around his neck and over his mouth, cowboy style.
Then he waved a hand at two soldiers, to have them do as Barry had just said.
Then they heard someone calling for them.
Barry turned and no matter how far away, he immediately recognized both of them: it was Coletta and Rambo, thank God.
And they looked safe and sound.
They were walking very slowly, almost staggering, and they were both smoking.
They looked drunk or stoned and one of soldiers of the base was yelling at them.
“Stop! I said stop you motherfuckers!”
“Fuck yourself, asshole” replied Coletta without even turning to him.
“Stop or I'll shoot you! I swear to God I will”
“Ok man, ok” Coletta finally said.
The selected marksman sat on the ground like a Buddhist monk on hunger strike.
After a little while of indecisiveness, Rambo sat too.
Coletta pulled out a little metal flask from one of his pockets and had a sip. The guard was still aiming at him with his rifle, waiting for someone that could guarantee him that those two very strange soldiers belonged to the base for real.
They got drunk – Barry thought, even if maybe, he was wrong. Maybe the two of them were just a little shocked by the battle.
Whatever the reason, it was fine anyway.
He could barely imagine the kind of battle they had probably just got through, out there, in the open.
-
Danforth arrived at the infirmary on his own two legs.
He had no problems walking, but his right eye couldn't see almost anything, and his right hand was burnt. Anyway, as a matter of fact, none of these things worried him at all.
The very worrying part was entirely different and had nothing to do with those injuries.
The real problem was that he was continuously stumbling for no reason at all given the fact that he could see properly with his safe eye.
The problems was that he could not understand the terrain and where he was placing his feet in particular.
It was a very weird feeling.
While walking back at the base, he crouched down to pick up an AK magazine, but his fingertips went so far down that they hit against the metal, as if he was trying to get them through the magazine, not pick it up.
He couldn't judge distances any more, that was the problem.
Why was that? Did he have concussion?
He could not remember any hard hit against his head.
Could his continuous stumbling be due to the fact that he was looking through one eye only? Was it something normal for those who have one eye only? He had never heard about such a thing before.
And if the damage was permanent, what was going to happen to him?
Would the SOG let him stay with one eye only?
***
When Ortega entered the command tent, Messner was bandaging Danforth's wounded eye.
“How are you, Eagle?”
Messner replied instead.
“His ear drums have taken quite a blow but there's no blood, so I think they are going to be okay. Regarding the wounded eye, I am not sure at the moemnt, but I don't think there will be permanent damage. I will be sure a few days from now. He is going to have quite a scar for ever, that's sure”
“Is this really necessary? 'Cause I really do look like blackbeard...”
“No John-Wayne-like bullshit soldier, please” Ortega said.
“I need your eye for something like another couple of years, at least. After those two years, you can take it out with our own hand, for all I care”
Danforth smiled.
Now that they were all safe and sound, they were ready to debrief Trautman. Since Danforth was wounded and under Messner's care, Ortega could do it on his own.
So he went for the radio.
***
“Skorpio to Covey Leader, come in, Covey leader”
The radio gave out some disturbance, but no reply.
“Skorpio to Covey Leader, come in Covey Leader”
“Do you want me to try again on a secondary frequency?” asked the young man at Ortega's side.
Ortega looked at him.
The young man was wearing some wide black-plastic, square-shaped glasses, with too thick lenses to be carried by a soldier.
He was nineteen years old at best, but he looked like fifteen.
Could this schoolboy really have been in here throughout the attack?
Jesus – Ortega thought.
This guy is cannon fodder.
Had the US fallen so low during these last two years Ortega had just spent in Fort Bragg? Was that possible? Yes, of course.
So Ortega said:
“Let's use this frequency for now, kid”
“Yessir”
But right in that moment, finally came the answer they were waiting for.
“Actual Covey Leader here. I am listening. Talk to me, Skorpio”.
'Actual' meant that Trautman was speaking in person.
At least.
“We drove the attack back, Sir”
“Update, Skorpio”
“We have lightly wounded. Eagle Sir, with a blindfolded eye. All of the others are safe”
“Base personnel losses?”
“About ten or so, but all more or less lightly wounded. On the other side, the Vietcong lost about sixty men, two machine guns and four RPGs. All I mentioned is at our disposal in perfectly working order. But we lost the enemy's battalion, Sir. The bulk of the force wasn't here. The battalion must have split and we fought against a single unit. We have no idea about where the rest of the forces might be”
“I know, Skorpio. They are here”
“What?”
“You did an outstanding job, Baker team B. I have to leave you now. We are in quite deep shit right now”
“Covey leader, I...”
“Don't do anything. It would take too long to get here on foot, and by chopper you would be destroyed before even touching the ground”
“Colonel...”
“Don't say anything stupid Skorpio, and don't even dare think anything. Subject closed. You did an awesome job and you are fully aware of what might have happened if you hadn’t. So, mission accomplished, Baker Team. You are going to receive clearance for flying as soon as flying is safe again. I have to go now. We are going to get on all right. Communication's over, Skorpio”