The Trash Haulers by Richard Herman

in front of the assembled comrades.”
    “That will be difficult,” Kim-Ly replied, “but I’m sure we can arrange something.”
    “And why should that be difficult?” Dinh demanded.
    “Because those responsible were the six comrades caught in the open by the Air Pirate’s bombs. They were trying to carry the mortars to safety. I’m sure we can find one or two bodies that still have a head attached.”
    Dinh turned to Tran. “This woman is insubordinate.”
    “Is the truth insubordinate, Colonel?” Dinh didn’t answer. “How many wounded?”
    “Again,” Kim-Ly answered without looking at her notes, “we were fortunate. Twenty-one with minor wounds and burns who can return to work. Only three have major wounds and will not survive.”
    Tran made the decision he hated. “Hide them.”
    For once, Dinh’s outrage came from his heart. “No! I will not allow that. They should be seen and honoured by the comrades for their sacrifice.”
    Tran spoke in a low voice. “Colonel Dinh, we are on the move, pushing ahead rapidly, and our medical teams are well behind us. We cannot properly treat our badly wounded in the field. It is called triage and we must leave them to die. Please remember my men and women are simple people from the countryside, not the highly motivated principals, such as yourself, of Hanoi. The comrades can deal with the death they see, but it will destroy their morale to see wounded left unattended to die.”
    “There is dignity in such sacrifice,” Dinh said.
    “Is there dignity in screaming in pain and begging for your mother?” Tran asked. Dinh fell silent and motioned for his three aides to follow him outside. They needed to talk. Tran waited silently until the sound of the four men blundering down the steep hillside died away. He turned to Kim-Ly, standing close but not touching. He drew comfort from her musky scent. “Were those six men killed carrying mortars?”
    “Of course not. There will be enough killing today without adding to it.”
    *
    They heard Dinh struggling up the hillside long before he burst into the command post. “How long has the captain been back?” he demanded.
    Tran motioned at Lam. The young captain was bent over a chart with Kim-Ly talking quietly. “Less than five minutes, Colonel. Thank you for coming so quickly.” He stood and motioned for Dinh to join him by the chart. “Captain Lam, please give Colonel Dinh your combat report.”
    The captain spoke quietly. “We tracked the American to this location.” He pointed to a small plateau on the top of a nearby karst. “There, he rendezvoused with his team. We were still manoeuvring into position when we heard the sound of the attacking jet fighters; two F-4C Phantoms, tail code FY.”
    “Ah,” Tran said. “The 555th Tactical Fighter Squadron.”
    “Is this detail important?” Dinh snapped. “Get to the cause of your failure.”
    Tran wished Dinh would shut up and try to learn something. “It is imperative to know the enemy,” he intoned, repeating a basic truth of combat. “The 555th is the Triple Nickel, who normally fly combat air patrol seeking out MiGs. The fact that they are flying close air support indicates the Americans are over extended. Captain Lam, please continue.”
    “It was a coordinated attack to provide protection for the helicopter to extract the Americans. It was the helicopter the Americans call the Jolly Green Giant. I counted six Americans boarding the helicopter.”
    Dinh was beside himself with righteous anger. “You could not destroy six Americans and a helicopter? Are they supermen? Do they carry magical weapons?”
    Without hesitation, the young captain replied, “We opened fire on the helicopter, revealing our position. The helicopter pivoted and brought its .50 calibre machine gun to bear, driving us to cover. However, we continued to return fire. The helicopter escaped over the edge of the plateau. It was trailing smoke.”
    Dinh was triumphant. “So you did not