Suzanne Brockmann - The Admirals Bride

Vietnam, 1969

S ergeant Matthew Lange had been left to die.

His leg was badly broken and he had shrapnel embedded in his entire right side. It hadnt hit anything vital. He knew, because hed been hit hours ago and he wasnt dead yet. And that was almost a shame.

His morphine wasnt working. He not only hurt like hell but he was still alert enough to know what was coming.

The soldier next to him knew, too. He lay there, crying softly. Jim was his name. Jimmy DAngelo. He was just a kid, reallybarely eighteenand he wasnt going to get any older.

None of them were.

There were a dozen of them there, United States Marines, hiding and bleeding in the jungle of a country too small to have been mentioned in fifth-grade geography class. They were too badly injured to walk out, but most of em were still conscious, still alive enough to know that sometime within the next few hours, they were going to die.

Charlie was coming.

Probably right before dawn.

The Vietcong had launched a major offensive yesterday morning, and Matts platoon had been one of several trapped by the attack. They were now God knows how many clicks behind enemy lines, with no chance of rescue.

Hours ago, Captain Tyler had radioed for help, but help wasnt coming. There were no chopper pilots insane enough to fly into this hot spot. They were on their own.

But then the bomb droppedclose to literally. Well, at least it would be dropping literally, come morning. The captain had been ordered out of the area. He was told that in an attempt to halt the Vietcong, the Americans would be napalming this very mountain in less than twelve hours.

There had been twenty injured men. Theyd outnumbered the uninjured by more than two to one.

Captain Tyler had played God, choosing the eight least wounded to drag out of there. Hed looked at Matt, looked at his leg, and hed shaken his head. No. Hed had tears in his eyes, not that that helped much now.

Father OBrien had been the only one to stay behind.

Matt could hear his quiet voice, murmuring words of comfort to the dying men.

If Charlie found them, hed use bayonets to kill them. He wouldnt want to waste bullets on men who couldnt fight back. And Matt couldnt fight back. His right arm was useless, his left too weak to shoulder his weapon. Most of the other guys were worse than he was. And he couldnt picture Father OBrien picking up someones machine gun and giving Charlie a mouthful of lead.

No, bayonets or burning. Thats what their future had come down to.

Matt felt like weeping along with Jimmy.

Sarge?

Yeah, Jim. Im still here. Like Matt mightve walked away.

You have a family, dont you?

Matt closed his eyes, picturing Lisas sweet face. Yeah, he said. I do. Back in New Haven. Connecticut. He might as well have said Mars, it seemed as far away. I got two boys. Matt, Jr., and Mikey. Lisa had wanted a little girl. A daughter. Hed always thought thered be plenty of time for that later.

Hed been wrong.

Youre lucky. Jimmys voice shook. I dont have anyone besides my ma whos gonna remember me. My poor ma. He started to cry again. Oh, God, I want my ma.

Father OBrien came over, but his calm voice didnt cover Jimmys sobbing. The poor bastard wanted his ma.

Matt wanted Lisa. It was the stupidest thing. When hed been there, back in that stifling little crummy two-bedroom apartment in one of the worst neighborhoods in New Haven, hed thought hed go absolutely mad. He hated working as a mechanic, hated the way his money was already spent on groceries and rent before he even brought home his paycheck. So hed re-upped. Hed told Lisa hed reenlisted for the money, but the real truth was hed wanted to get the hell out of there before he suffocated. And hed left, even though shed cried.

Hed married too youngnot that hed had a real choice about it. And hed liked it, at first. Lisa, in his bed every night. No need to worry about getting her pregnant, since hed already done that. Hed loved the way shed grown heavy with child, with his child. It made him feel like a man, even though at twenty-two, fresh out of the service, hed been little more than a child himself. But when the second baby had come right after the first, the weight of his responsibilities had scared him to death.

So hed left. Hed come here, to Nam.

It was much different from his first tour, when hed been stationed in Germany.

And right now all he wanted was to be back in Lisas arms. He was the stupidest fool in the worldhe didnt realize how much he had, how much he truly loved that girl, his wife, until he was hours away from dying.

Bayonets or burning. Dear God.

Father OBriens soft voice had quieted Jimmy, and he now turned to Matt. SergeantMatthew. Would you like to pray?

No, Father, he said.

Not even prayer could help them now.

Their captain just left them there? Lieutenant Jake Robinson kept his voice even, kept his voice low, even though he absolutely could not believe what his chief had just told him. Wounded marines, left behind by their CO in the jungle to die. And now the good guys are going to finish them off with friendly fire?

Ham nodded, his headphones still plugged into the radio, his dark eyes grim. Its not as heartless as youre thinkin, Admiral. Theres only a dozen or so of them. If Charlie isnt stopped before he gets to the river, well have casualties in the thousands. You know that. He spoke in a barely audible voice, too.

The enemy was all around them tonight. And well they should know. Jakes team of Men with Green Faces, U.S. Navy SEALs, had spent the past twenty-four hours marking the Vietcongs location in this target area. Theyd radioed the info in and now had exactly four hours to get out before the bombing raid began.

Only a dozen men, Jake said. Or so. Any chance of giving me an exact number, Chief?

Twelve wounded, one priest.

Fred and Chuck materialized from the jungle. Only nine wounded now, Fred corrected him in his soft Southern drawl. We found em, Admiral. Near a clearing, like they hoped a chopper would be able to come in and grab em. Didnt approachdidnt want to get their hopes up if we didnt think we could help. What we could see, three of em are already KIA.

KIA. Killed in action. It was one of Jakes least favorite acronyms. Along with POW and MIA. But he didnt let his aversion show on his face. He never let anything like that show. His men didnt need to know when he was shaken. And this one had shaken him, hard. The commanders-in-chief knew those men were there. U.S. Marines. Good men. Brave men. And those commanders had given the order to proceed with the bombing regardless.

He met Hams eyes and read the skepticism there.

Weve pulled off some tough missions before, Jake said. His words were as much to convince himself.

Ham shook his head. Nine wounded men and seven SEALs, he said. Against thirty-five hundred Vietcong? Come on, Lieutenant. The chief didnt need to say what he was thinking. This wasnt just a tough mission, it was insanity.

And the chief had called Jake by his true rank, a sign of his disapproval. It was funny how accustomed hed become to the nickname this team of SEALs had given himAdmiral. It was the ultimate expression of respect from this motley crew, particularly since hed gone through BUD/S cursed with the label Pretty Boy, PB for short. Yeah, he liked Admiral much better.

Fred and Chuck were watching him. So were Scooter and the Preacher and Ricky. Waiting for his command. At age twenty-two, Jake was one of the two old men of the teama full lieutenant having served three back-to-back tours of duty in this hell on earth. Ham, his chief, had been there with him for the last two. Steady as a rock and, at twenty-seven years of age, as gnarled and ancient as the hills. But hed never questioned Jakes authority.