K9LTW – a fiction by MKHurder
Chapter 12: The Trail and the Trap
Dawn’s Reward
The dawn broke over Firebase Bearcat with a pale, uncertain light. Smoke drifted from torn canvas and splattered sandbags, curling into the sky where helicopters hovered in and out, ferrying the wounded and resupplying the battered perimeter. The jungle beyond the wire was quiet, but every man knew it was not empty.
McCready stood at the wire, helmet low, rifle slung but ready. Donnie and Bodie were beside him, Bodie’s ears flicking at the faint sounds of rotor blades. Reyes and Rook held the southern path, both steady, both silent. The vet tech moved between them, checking harnesses and gear.
A Huey dropped into the compound, rotors chopping the humid air. Dust and ash swirled as the side door slid open. Corporal Nesbitt stepped down, lean and quiet, his uniform clean but his eyes already tuned to the jungle. Beside him was Jet, a black Labrador, sleek and focused, wearing a harness but no muzzle. Jet was a tracker, not a scout. His job was scent, not contact.
McCready met them at the landing zone. “You’re here for trail,” he said. “Not fight.”
Nesbitt nodded once. “Jet tracks. He doesn’t chase. He doesn’t bark. You’ll know when he knows
Jet and Nesbitt arrive
The squad moved out. Donnie and Bodie led, rifles angled, eyes scanning. Reyes and Rook took slack in a reserve role, McCready in the center. Nesbitt and Jet followed, the Labrador’s nose low, tail stiff, body language tuned to the invisible.
The jungle swallowed them quickly. Bodie’s muzzle hovered over broken branches and blood on a leaf. Donnie gave the signal, and Jet stepped forward, nose down, tail rigid. Nesbitt crouched, watching the dog’s spine, the way it curved when the scent locked in.
Jet turned left, deeper into the brush. The squad followed, rifles low, eyes high. The trail was fresh, boot prints pressed deep, discarded packs, blood drops on leaves.
Tracking
Twenty minutes in, Jet froze. Nesbitt raised a fist. The squad halted. McCready moved forward, eyes narrowing.
In a shallow depression lay three wounded VC, rifles discarded, fatigues soaked in blood. Two more were tangled in roots farther back, one groaning softly, the other silent. A sixth lay unconscious, his chest rising shallowly.
McCready’s voice was low. “Secure them. No movement. No cruelty.”
The medic worked quickly, Reyes and Donnie covering, dogs alert. Jet sat back, panting lightly, his job done. Bodie leaned into Donnie’s leg, calm but watchful.
McCready radioed Bearcat. “Six prisoners. Injured. Need evac. LZ is clear.”
A Huey came fast, blades chopping the humid air. The squad formed a perimeter as stretchers were loaded. The VC were silent, eyes wide, some in pain, some in resignation. The medic rode with them, two riflemen as escort.
Medivac
The helicopter rose, slow and steady, climbing above the treetops. McCready watched it lift, eyes narrowing. Donnie stood beside him, Bodie calm but alert. Reyes scanned the treeline. Rook’s ears twitched.
He heard it but it was already too late.
A streak of smoke from the east—fast, cruel, final. The RPG arced and struck the Huey mid‑body. The explosion was sharp, brutal, a blossom of fire and metal. The helicopter twisted, then dropped, spinning into the canopy with a sound that ended all sound.
There were no survivors.
McCready did not speak. He turned to the squad, eyes hard. “Perimeter. Defensive posture. We hold here.”
Donnie knelt beside Bodie, hand on the harness. Reyes moved to cover, Rook beside him. Jet stood, ears flat, tail low. Nesbitt did not flinch.
But for the noise of the wreckage the jungle was still again. But this time, it was not aftermath. It was warning.
Disaster
The jungle seemed to hold its breath after the Huey fell, smoke curling upward from the canopy where fire still burned. McCready’s jaw was tight; his eyes fixed on the treeline. He knew the enemy wasn’t finished.
The squad pulled back to disengage and regroup, moving in staggered formation. But Jet tracked ahead, Nesbitt close behind, the Labrador’s nose pulling them deeper into danger tracking the retreating enemy. Against his better wishes, Donnie and Bodie followed, Bodie’s ears flicking at every sound, muzzle low. Reyes and Rook followed with the rest of the squad, steady but tense.
Donnie felt it before it happened. Bodie’s posture stiffened, a vibration through the harness and leash that spoke louder than words. Donnie raised his hand. “Stop,” he hissed. But the green lieutenant in charge waved them forward right past Donnie’s kneeling frame. His eyes bright with ambition. He wanted the kill, the glory.
Donnie’s voice cut through the tension in an urgent plea. “Sir, it’s an ambush. Pull back.”
The lieutenant shook his head. “We press. Jet’s got the trail. Move.”
The squad obeyed, though McCready’s eyes burned with silent fury.
Bodie heard the hollow thump of the mortar, then explosive fire consumed the impact. The blast tore through the clearing, shredding foliage and men alike. Nesbitt and Jet were caught in the center, both thrown down, lifeless before the smoke cleared. Two more GIs fell with them, bodies broken, rifles scattered. The rest covered with Donnie’s hand signal, but all didn’t escape unharmed.
Donnie staggered, ears ringing, Bodie pressed against him, they were alive but shaken. Reyes dragged Rook behind cover, blood streaking his arm. McCready pulled the survivors together, voice hard. “Back to Bearcat. Move!” No one moved. “SNAP TO IT TROOPS!” he bellowed. The remains of the patrol disengaged in loose order.
Breakout
The jungle refused them, sporadic AK fire came from the flanks, tracer rounds slicing through leaves. The squad scrambled, firing short bursts, carrying the wounded. Bodie surged forward, guiding Donnie through the chaos, his instincts saving them more than tactics. Rook mirrored Bodie, Reyes stumbling but refusing to fall.
The lieutenant tried to rally, shouting commands, but another burst of fire cut him down. His bravado ended in silence, his body left behind as the squad fought to survive.
Donnie’s mind fractured under the weight. He had warned them. Bodie had warned them. And no one listened. The tracker team was gone, Jet’s body lying in the clearing, Nesbitt beside him. The lieutenant’s arrogance had cost lives, and Donnie carried the guilt like a stone in his chest.
Back to Bearcat
They reached Bearcat as the sun climbed higher, smoke drifting from the perimeter, helicopters circling but cautious. The survivors stumbled through the wire, faces gray, uniforms torn, dogs streaked with mud and blood.
McCready stood at the gate, rifle slung, eyes hard. He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. The mission had been a disaster, a crushing blow to morale.
Donnie knelt beside Bodie, hand pressed into the dog’s harness, tears burning but unshed. Reyes sat with Rook, silent, staring at the ground. The vet tech moved among them, checking wounds, but the weight of loss was heavier than any injury.
The day ended not with victory but with silence. The jungle had taken its toll, and Bearcat endured only by refusing to die.
Donnie’s mind replayed the blast, the cries, the silence after. He had tried to stop it. Bodie had tried to stop it. But ambition had drowned caution, and men had paid the price.
McCready gathered them at dusk, his voice low. “We lost good men today. We lost Jet. We lost Nesbitt. We lost more than we should have. But we’re still here. Tomorrow, we go again. Donnie, Reyes—your teams will patrol separately. Reports say the enemy is massing. They want revenge. We’ll be ready.”
The men nodded, silent. The dogs pressed close, anchors in the storm.
The jungle whispered beyond the wire, promising more blood. Bearcat braced itself.
(to be continued: Chapter#13 – After the Blast)
To start from the beginning: K9LTW-ch#1
to read another of my fictions in progress: DohReyMe&theKitties3-Ch1 or the Prequel – Doh – Rey – Me
Related Links:
- Four-legged-fighters
- Vietnam Dog Handlers Association
- Military Working Dog Heritage Museum
- Top Dog – Lucca
Bonus Fiction Feature:
If you read any of the fiction I create here to the end, you will be able to download a free copy when It’s complete. If I get a referral from you, I’ll throw in the fiction – Burtt the Blade.
From Popi’s Tales & The Book of Wonders
More from Popi’s Collection of Facts & Fiction
- Burtt the Blade – fiction
- Doh – Rey – Me – fiction – book – written here
- Mystery of Willow Woods – fiction – short Story – written here
- The Last Signal – part one – fiction – book – written here
- Rift Guardians – chapter#1 – fiction – book – written here
- DohReyMe&theKitties3-ch1 – fiction – book – written here – in progress
- Shorty’s Path – non-fiction auto biography book
Table of Contents
