OPERATION: -Vetrans Run- May 25 AAR

Sunday May 25th 3:00pm Sharp OPERATION: Veterans Run


American AAR:


Red Star Team 5 - Sergeant - AAR

“HOW THE HELL DID I END UP HERE?” I could not help but chew on this question over and over in my head, as I lay in ambush on the damp ground in the total darkness. The infernal bugs are having a good time feeding on my blood, and I dare not move to slap them away; mainly because it is futile, and because any sound, except for the bugs’ incessant buzzing, can give my position away to the Imperialistic American dogs prowling the tree line.

“Oh yeah, I know how I got here,” I muse: I am a Red Star Spetsnaz sergeant, leading fire team 5, or whatever was left of it. As I lay there in the dark, being wet, cold, exhausted, hungry, and eaten alive, I finally understand what my grandfather had experienced during the time he was running with the Viet Minh fighting against the French occupiers some 80 years ago.

And now it is my turn. Here I am in the bushes in some unnamed stretch of the tropical jungle of Vietnam, my country of origin. But this time, instead of fighting an occupying force, like my grandpa had done against the French, I am actually fighting my own countrymen. YES, my own countrymen! That thought originally gives me some pause and causes me to do some soul searching. But in the end, I know in my heart that when I joined the order of the Red Star, my allegiance is only to Super Nova, and my only brothers are my fellow Red Star soldiers from all over the world. Besides, the Vietnam that I know now, supposedly peace loving and a Republic, is just another puppet of the American imperialists and their mighty Dollar.

“Snap!” What was that? I jerk out of my musing, and become alert and pumped with waves of adrenaline. My ears are tuned to the slightest of sounds coming from the bushes around me. It’s amazing how acute your hearing is in the pitch black darkness of the tropical jungle night. I close my eyes and open my mouth slightly to improve my hearing, straining to pick up any man-made sound. I point my Colt 1911 and my Surefire flashlight in the direction of the noise, ready to flick on the light and unload a few .45 cal elephant stopper rounds and take out an American or a Communist Vietnamese that is about to discover my position.

Nothing… there is nothing following the snap. I am beginning to think that I am hearing things. Perhaps the knowledge that I am the only one left from my squad that is still moving, and that I am being hunted, is playing tricks on my mind.

When the adrenaline wears off, I feel incredibly exhausted, and lapse back into musing over the question of how the hell I got here!

Super Nova has been approached by a “Vietnamese-in-exile” guerillas/rebel group, who called themselves the Neo-VietMinh. The group is comprised mostly of born-in-the-West idealists and romantics. Most are misguided college educated kids who think this is their chance for adventure, and to “make a difference” by liberating Vietnam from the Communists. The Neo-VietMinh leaders are asking Super Nova for help with their campaign to overthrow the current Vietnamese government. Naturally, there is much to be gained by Super Nova in supporting this endeavor in the form of prestige, power, and money. Super Nova commits Red Star seasoned non-commissioned officer corps and Red Star recruits to the guerilla’s cause.

And naturally, the God-cursed Americans are involved. The Communist government of the Republic of Vietnam enlists the American’s help to fight off the growing Neo-VietMinh threat. And as meddlesome as they are, the Americans can’t pass up the opportunity to turn this country into another of their lapdogs.

Red Star personnel act as the advisors to the guerillas on weapons and tactics. And we are to accompany them on their missions deep in the jungle of Vietnam. This time we are to ferry supplies of drugs and rice, money, fission material for a dirty 1 kiloton yield tactical nuke, and the arming codes for the war head. In addition to supplies and materiel, we are also responsible for delivery of fresh guerilla trainees to the guerilla base of operation deep inside the jungle of Vietnam. We are to traverse the famous, or infamous depending on your point of reference, Ho Chi Minh Trail. For security reasons, each cargo package is entrusted to a team of Red Star advisors and their guerilla trainees. And also for security reasons, each team is to move from waypoint to waypoint in the jungle. At each waypoint, a member of the Red Star Pathfinders force will be waiting with instruction and coordinates for the next waypoint. This way, if a team is captured, the location of the guerilla base camp will not be compromised. My team is responsible for 50 K’s of commercial rate cocaine.

We set out from the night amphibious landing on Vung Tau beach where the Red Star amphibious assault landing crafts deposit us, the cargo, and a batch of Neo-VietMinh guerilla trainees. We immediately clear the beach and start our trek inlands; each team heading in its respective compass bearing to the next designated waypoint.

I take team 5 through very difficult terrain with almost impassable growth of vines and tall grass and fallen trees. My philosophy is: if you take the easy route, then you are not doing your job! At times, we have to double-back because there is no way we can make a hole in the dense jungle vegetation. But all in all, we progress steadily to our next waypoint. The young Red Star recruits, to their credit, copy their grizzled sergeant and do not complain about traversing the treacherous terrain. But the Neo-VietMinh guerilla trainees are lagging behind because they are not accustomed to the harsh demands of jungle warfare.

We avoid all contacts until we get close to our next waypoint, a clearing in the jungle vegetation. All is quiet! This looks too suspicious, so I sent out a scouting party of 3 Red Star recruits. The Neo-VietMinh guerilla trainees stay behind in the tree line guarding the “cargo”. As soon as the scouting party emerges from the tree line, M-16 and M249 SAW gun fire erupts from the other side of the clearing and cut down the recruits at the waist. I signal for the rest of the squad to spread out and blend back into the vegetation. I don’t want the cargo to fall in American hands. The squad scatters into the underbrush and we lose contact with each other.

The Americans advance on our position and soon I hear a brief firefight followed by their reports that they have of the cocaine case. At this report, I know that a good portion of my team has been neutralized. The Americans make off with our cargo and move to exit the area.
When all is clear, and the jungle ambient noise returns to its normal intensity, I venture out of my hole in the bush and rally the remainder of the team. A few RS recruits and Neo-VietMinh guerilla trainees come out of their hiding places, but most are dead on the jungle floor.

Our objective now is to chase after the Americans and recover the cocaine. The radio crackled as the other teams break radio silence and report that they similarly are ambushed and lost their cargo to the Americans. We decide to rendezvous at grid coordinate C4, the base of the South Mountain, where we join resources and go hunting for the Americans.

We are very close on the American’s tail, and we are ready to wreak vengeance as we close in on their rear security element. A protracted firefight breaks out, with both sides taking heavy casualties. And my team just gets smaller and smaller until there are none left standing but me.

Daylight is practically gone. But it looks like the hunt will continue into the night…

And this is how I got where I am now. For the last few hours, I have been playing mind games with the American dogs: in the dark, in the middle of nowhere; ambushing and counter-ambushing.

Every now and then, the stillness of the jungle night is shattered as vicious firefights erupts and the combatants engage each other in the dark, with no quarters asked or given. And that is exactly my mindset as well. If I am to die in this wretched ass-end of the world, then my last act of defiance is to take a few of the Imperialist dogs with me.

“There is still one in there… In the bush, I mean. I just can’t get a good fix on where he is… Can’t triangulate…” I hear the Americans whispering to each other as they advance and flank my position.
Suddenly, something moves in front of my field of view from right to left. It is of distinctive human shape and it runs. I turn, flick on the surefire, lead the target and unload three .45 rounds. Then automatic M4 fire erupts; I remember hearing the distinctive cyclic sound of the American standard-issued M4-A1 assault rifle, as the bullets stitch across my chest and knock me back to the jungle floor…

For no particular reason, I remember thinking to myself that dawn is breaking in a few hours, and if this is what dying is like, it is not so bad...


RED STAR AAR: Unyielding Darkness

2100 Hours (9 o’clock pm)
The sky blackened as we huddle around a small camp fire to stay warm. We could hear the screams of our comrades as the Americans slowly murdered them. Only the seer fear of SuperNova’s punishment for failure kept us awake. One of our squad leaders decided that we should go on the offensive, and out into the blackness we walked with comrades to our left and right. I felt almost untouchable, at least for a moment. Shots rang out in the darkness as my fellow Red Star fell to the ground wounded. I did my best to heal them while trying to not get hit with American tracer rounds. Comrades screaming for me to save them came to a choking halt as Americans dug knifes deep into the throats of my allies. The Day was lost.
-Private Tuttle, Squad Two Medic Red Star