Gone Hunting

"Tracy! Front and center!” the sergeant yelled. Late, Tracy dropped his gear and came to attention before the sergeant. The rest of the platoon stood in formation next to their bunker. “This isn’t a game Tracy, it’s a war. How many times do I have to tell you men that?” The sergeant looked at his men in feigned exasperation. They weren’t expected to respond.

“Damn it now that’s enough, fall in!” the sergeant concluded. Tracy retrieved his gear and joined his company next to the bunker as the sergeant turned to face them. “As you already know, tomorrow is the Vietnamese lunar holiday Tet. That means a cease-fire’s in effect. That does not mean, however, that you are permitted to become slackers. I want you ready to go on a moment’s notice. Any questions?” The sergeant looked at his men. They stared back vacantly. There were no questions. “Dismissed.” He turned and strode away toward the HQ building. The platoon headed back to their barracks where they spent most of their free time talking, playing cards, and writing letters.

Tracy never actually played cards with the men but was always present when they were being played. He would calmly sit with a far away look rarely talking unless asked a direct question. Despite his idiosyncrasies he was well liked for his strength, high degree of intelligence, and abilities as a survivalist and sniper. Yet there was something about him.

The only direct questions Tracy never answered, it seemed, were those about his past. After more than a few beers one day, several of the men asked the sergeant about this. He refused to answer at first but they pressed him and pressed him until he finally revealed what he knew. Tracy was from Texas. His parents had driven him and his two brothers into the desert when he was thirteen, kicked them out of the car with a week’s worth of supplies, and driven away never to be seen again. After the supplies ran out, the kids started walking. Almost a week later, Tracy stumbled onto a ranch house. He alone survived. The state of Texas declared him an orphan and made him a ward of the court until such time as a suitable home could be found. None ever was and Tracy lived in an orphanage until he turned eighteen. He then chose from one of the only four career opportunities available to him: Army, Air force, Navy, or Marines. Tracy chose the Army.

He completed Ranger school at the top of his class but convinced the Army to transfer him to a regular company instead. No one ever knew the exact reason for it and he never offered any explanation beyond that which was required. “And that,” the sergeant concluded, “is how Tracy came to be in our platoon.”

The platoon’s routine and Tracy’s future would have remained largely unchanged except for two things that occurred. The first was that, unbeknown to the American military forces, the North Vietnamese were about to break the Tet cease-fire and the second was that Tracy had been complaining of nightmares and acting a bit manic of late. So, the sergeant sent him to see a doctor who referred him to a psychiatrist. The psychiatrist was concerned because up until that year, 1968, the neuropsychiatric disease rate in Vietnam remained roughly stable and parallel with that of the rest of the Army. But this year, the Army-wide rates had increased and the rates in Vietnam were skyrocketing. The psychiatrist decided to enroll Tracy in an experimental program designed to test the effects of a certain new drug. That was six weeks ago.

Now, the men were noticing even more changes in Tracy’s behavior. He was finally talking and seemed happier on the one hand, but on the other, seemed to be losing his sense of conscience. And Tracy just laughed when confronted about it. Additionally, he was spending most of his free time writing morbid poems about a dream world he claimed existed and studying a lot of Zen philosophy. He would just zone out and talk about fate in a way that scared the men. The sergeant made a decision to transfer Tracy to the rear where he could get the help he needed. Before he could act on his decision, however, all hell broke loose.

Explosions rocked the platoon awake. The breathless sergeant returned from HQ and informed the company that the Tet cease-fire had just been broken. The North Vietnamese had hit every major military target in Vietnam and the United States Embassy in Saigon had actually been overrun. The platoon fell in and left the camp heading north along a main road. Their orders were to support a company of Green Beret paratroopers currently defending an old French plantation several miles away.
A couple of miles later they heard the sound of a truck approaching and got in position. When it passed, they opened fire. The truck was hit and exploded. N.V.A. troops jumped from the burning vehicle and were cut down where they landed. The sergeant yelled, “Cease fire! Cease fire!” after awhile and the attack ended. There were no survivors among the enemy. The platoon pushed northward. Helicopter gun ships flew over their heads on the way to action somewhere in front of them. There was no real battle line yet. Fighting was breaking out everywhere. The platoon was scared but resolute. Except for Tracy, that is, who appeared to be having the time of his life.

The road wound Eastward about 20 degrees until it bordered a small canal choked with sampans carrying refugees fleeing south. The explosions were much closer now. The platoon left the road and carefully made their way through a strip of jungle to the plantation.

Overhead, planes and helicopter gun ships released barrages into the jungle on the far side of the plantation opposite the platoon. Furious automatic fire exchanges were traded between North Vietnamese regulars and the Green Berets. One of the platoon members later remembered that Tracy was laughing as the platoon moved forward.

They made their way to a stone field wall and followed it to the plantation manor. The officer in charge ordered the platoon to assist a group of Green Beret soldiers in defending against attacks on the northwest wall. The platoon arrived just in time. The North Vietnamese were throwing everything they had at that section of the wall trying to break through and casualties were high. Within a short time the platoon fell to 70% strength. Tracy shot and dodged madly along the wall expertly taking out enemy soldiers.

The combined force fought commendably against the wave of NVA regulars. But finally the order came to retreat. The men fell back. Except for Tracy that is. He had acquired a shovel and was madly digging a hole behind a row of foliage next to the plantation manor. There was a hollow bamboo reed between his teeth and in the confusion he was left behind.

Several days later, two battalions of soldiers from division headquarters retook what was left of the plantation with the help of air support. Nothing of Tracy, save a freshly dug hole, a shovel, and a dirty hollow bamboo reed was ever found.
The Tet offensive officially ended and life returned to a routine of sorts. That is until the bodies of NVA and Viet Cong began appearing in the jungles north of the plantation. Not just a few either. There were a lot of dead bodies appearing.

At first Army intelligence thought they were simply enemy KIA from the initial battle. But as time went on and the discovery of fresh corpses continued, they abandoned that explanation. The other branches of the military disavowed any covert action in the area and that left the Army with only one option. They began sending in patrols to find an answer. But they found nothing except more bodies and angry NVA looking for revenge. Fierce fighting broke out whenever the opposing forces met.
Eventually the Army stopped sending out the patrols.

The NVA did too, but for very different reasons. They were mysteriously losing the patrols they sent out and many of the North Vietnamese soldiers now believed the twenty-mile section of jungle north of the plantation to be haunted and fearfully avoided it. The locals spoke respectfully of a tr¡ng danh tØ (a white ghost) that stalked the jungle at night animatedly killing his enemies. They said he laughed like a death angel. Only the sergeant and men from Tracy’s platoon knew the truth but it was so incredible that no one ever believed them.

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