Hinky

Our firebase was set up about seven clicks from the nearest village, so it wasn’t unusual for us to get a request for medical aid when someone there was ill or injured. However the runner that appeared at the gate wasn’t a person anyone recognized, besides he looked a little to well fed if compared to the denizens of the village.

Skipper gave us the go ahead after contacting Top Side to request permission. As he put it, “Be careful — there’s something hinky about this shit.”

“Aye-aye!” I called out as I climbed in behind the wheel of the Mighty-mite.

With me were five Marines, however the runner chose to remain behind. That too was “hinky,” as it was  rare a local would pass up a free ride.

We slipped out a side gate and were soon speeding along the rutted roadway towards the village. It was late in the afternoon and we knew it would be dark in a couple of hours, so we wanted to make it a quick trip.

Shortly after arriving in the village, we learned what we already knew: there was no need for our help. It was obvious we were being baited for an ambush — so we radioed the base and let them know.

Having zipped through the jungle en route to the village, we had pointed out two places where we would have established an ambush site, had we been doing so. Within minutes we were speed towards the first spot.

As we passed it, nothing happened. We would have all sighed a breath of relief, but we still had one more to get beyond.

I knew we had less than a fifty-percent chance of getting back without encounter some sort of trouble.

The second site was jus’ beyond a slight rise in the roadway. I stepped on the gas pedal, intent on preventing us from be stopped and overrun.

I hit the rise at 65 miles and hour and was immediately airborne.

Jus’ beyond the rise I saw the man with the AK-47 rifle standing in between the ruts cut into the red earth. He had the rifle raised as if ready to fire, but he never had a chance to squeeze the trigger.

The front-end of the Mighty-mite was on him before he knew it. It slammed into him and much to my surprise he got hung up on the hood of the vehicle.

His reaction to having been struck with such brutal force was to grit his teeth, glare at me and raise his rifle. If he pulled the trigger — it was certain I would be dead.

I had to react fast, so I stomped hard on the brake pedal.

The vehicle bucked and fish-tailed back and forth. I saw the terrified look in the gunman’s eyes as he flew from the hood and bounced several times ahead of us.

Without hesitation I gunned the Mighty-mite. I felt the heave and thumping of his body as he disappeared under the vehicle.

The moment I hit him, several shots hit our the vehicle. All five Jarheads started returning firing as I mashed the gas pedal to the steel floor board and sped down the road.

I looked into what was left of the passenger side rearview mirror and saw what remained of the gun man’s body, crumpled and twisted in a heap.

When we pulled back into the relative safety of the firebase, one of the Marine’s jumped out of the vehicle and proudly announced, “Doc here’s a real killer — jus’ ran an asshole right over without hesitation.”

I tried to smile — then quickly rushed to the head so no one would see me throw up.