The Ghosts of Hanoi

The prologue and first chapter of my ebook, "The Ghosts of Hanoi," available at virtually all ebook sellers (Amazon, Smashwords, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, Diesel, Sony, and Apple Ibooks):

PROLOGUE

   The howl of a U.S. Army two-and-a-half-ton truck in second gear breached the quiet of the woods. The bumpy, unpaved road was giving the driver, who happened to be a Marine, a tough time. "Man, these Army trucks are worse than ours!"

   The GI next to him leaned forward. "Hey, Short-Ron, what the hell is that?"

   The Marine peered through the windshield as he downshifted, seeing nothing. "What, what the hell is what?"

   "That! See it? It looks like a log across the road -- holy shit! Stop the fuckin' truck, now!"

   "What the -- aw, Jesus!" Ronald "Short Ron" Paquette, Corporal, USMC slammed both feet on the brake pedal but it was already too late. Six men in black pajamas sprang out of the bushes, firing their AK-47s. "Short Ron" and his Army buddy, Specialist Dave Sanderson died as the windshield shattered. Two Viet Cong -- "VC" -- dodged the out-of-control truck as it veered off the narrow road, hitting a tree and landing in a ditch. It sat there, engine still running, with its right-side wheels two feet off the ground.

   In the canvas-covered back of the truck, Sergeant Harry Hartoonian pushed the guy next to him. "Sammy, you okay?" Private Sam Jewitt keeled over, the back of his head missing. Hartoonian pushed him off, Jewitt's blood spilling on his pants, his face covered with tears as he realized what was happening.

   Corporal Greg Bradley, who had been sitting across from Hartoonian, tried to get out with Specialist Ed Valentine behind him. "VC! Fuckin' VC!"

   A bullet struck Bradley in the forehead as he peered through the opening in the rear, causing his head to first snap back and then slump forward, lifeless. The other two froze in place. A minute later, a Vietnamese with an AK-47 stuck his head in and pulled Bradley's body out of the truck. "You, GI, get out! Out!" He stepped back to allow them to exit, keeping the AK-47 aimed at them. "Out! Now!"

   Valentine and Hartoonian gingerly climbed out of the vehicle to find several armed men pointing their weapons at them. They stood there, arms raised, realizing the war was over for them. Valentine looked at Bradley's body. "Aw, man.”

   He received a rifle butt in his face, knocking him down.  "Quiet! You quiet!"

   Hartoonian just stood there, shaking, and wondering if he would ever see home again. Hell, he wondered if he would live through the day.

   Within ten minutes, the Viet Cong had stripped the bodies of valuables, searched the truck, and made off with their two captives, bound and gagged. The other four bodies lay in the overturned truck where they had died. The woods were quiet again.

*

   "Buzz" Basilio jumped up from his cot, awakened by something that had run across his chest. He looked around the plywood "hooch" that served as his living quarters. It was empty except for him, and whatever had shared his bed.

   There it was, staring at him from the corner -- a rat almost as big as his size 10 combat boot. Bastard! Buzz hurled a book at the offensive creature, which scurried across the floor, disappearing into a hole in the plywood wall, just under one of the flimsy screens.

Buzz checked his watch, which sat on a makeshift table next to his bunk. Almost 12 noon. Buzz had worked the "graveyard" shift most of his time in Vietnam, but he still had trouble sleeping during the day. Now he was wide-awake after only four hours sleep because of the rat.