Pamela couldn’t hear the shots, drowned in the thunder of the rotors,
but she saw the flicker of muzzle flash against the shadows of the
Huey’s interior.
Ten feet in front of her, Bayerly staggered and almost fell.
Her paralysis of mind was gone, replaced by raw fear. Hsiao was coming
for them, coming for her! She ran to Bayerly, grabbing at his arm.
“Come on!” She had to scream to be heard over the helicopter’s roar.
He shook her off.
“Please, Made It!” Tears streamed down her cheeks. “Run! Please!”
He turned, almost reluctantly, and then he was running with her … but
he’d only taken a dozen steps before he stopped again. She saw the red
stain spreading across his shirt, just beneath his left arm.
“I’ll help-”
“No, damn it!” He planted his hand on her shoulder and shoved her
roughly toward the treeline. “Get the fuck out of here! I’ll hold
them here!”
She felt torn between the need to run and the need to stay. She reached
out again but he turned away, dropping to one knee and raising the
captured AK.
The helicopter was hovering just above the earth less than seventy yards
away. Soldiers were jumping out and advancing across the clearing
toward them.
Bayerly’s assault rifle hammered off a volley. The enemy soldiers
dropped to their bellies and started firing back, but Bayerly was not
firing at them, she realized.
He was aiming at the helo.
She heard the change in the pitch of the Huey’s rotors. It was lifting
again, nose high. Bayerly fired again, holding the trigger down and
describing a small circle with the muzzle of his weapon, spraying the
helo with lead. Smoke burst from the machine’s engine, a small puff at
first …
and then an expanding, billowing white cloud which was caught by the
rotor wash and swirled about. Pamela could hear an ominous clanking
mingled with the rotor noise now. The Huey turned sharply, trying to
gain altitude, but the pilot seemed to be in trouble.
One spinning rotor blade caught the earth.
The helicopter seemed to leap skyward, nose high, but its tail boom
slammed into the ground. There was an explosion. Orange flame engulfed
the convulsing machine and the shock wave struck her like a hot slap
across her face. Pamela had the impressions of an instant seared into
her brain, the sight of a snapped-off rotor blade cart-wheeling across
the sky, of men on the ground wreathed in flame as the ammo in their
belts cooked off.
She lay face down on the ground for a long time, not remembering
falling, not knowing anything but the hell of noise and the piercing
stink of aviation fuel. When she looked up, the Huey, still burning,
was reduced to a twisted, blackened skeleton. The soldiers who had been
on it were dead.
Hsiao … She didn’t see him, but he’d been aboard. He must be dead as
well.
Bayerly was lying a few yards away, his sightless eyes staring up at
her.
A bullet had drilled through his right cheekbone and entered his brain.
She sank to her knees, taking Bayerly’s head in her lap. She cradled
him for long moments, as the sounds of gunfire, the crump of explosions
grew closer.
“Miss? Miss!” A hand touched her shoulder. “He’s dead, miss. And we
have to go!”
She looked up. Several Marines were there. She’d not even heard their
approach.
“Are you all right?”
She nodded.
“You’re Miss Drake?”
“Yes …”
“Come on, please, ma’am. This place is about to get dumped on.”
She didn’t want to leave Bayerly, but strong hands pulled her to her
feet and guided her away. “Lieutenant Miller, ma’am,” the Marine said.
“Marine Recon. We’ve got to get to cover, fast!”
Blood stained the front of her blouse. Not hers, she realized numbly.
His. “Wha … what?”
“We’ve got to get under cover. We’ve got Hornets and Intruders coming
down on this place like a ton of bricks, and we don’t want to be here
when they do!”
She looked up as Tomcats screeched overhead, their thunder deafening as
they headed south.
0753 hours, 21 January
MiG 612, near U Feng