Starting from South America, speeding through the world

Chapter 352 The 173rd Airborne Brigade

1965 6 Month 9 Day.

Saigon, Bien Hoa Air Force Base.

The sun was so bright that you couldn't open your eyes.

The air was filled with the pungent smell of gasoline.

A C-135 is taxiing slowly.

The area near the runway was separated by barbed wire, creating an open space.

A large number of South Vietnamese soldiers and police were guarding outside, their guns pointed downwards.

Daniel and Wallace stood side by side under the pergola.

The fan shook its head, but couldn't blow out a single drop of cool air.

The light was so bright that even the shadows appeared exceptionally thin in comparison.

The crowd moved in and out behind them.

U.S. military advisors, diplomats, South Vietnamese military officers, and independent journalists hurried about.

Wallace sighed. "They talked to you last night?"

Although it was a question, the tone was firm.

Daniel nodded.

“I understand why you agreed,” Wallace said bluntly.

"But I don't think this is your best option."

“Perhaps it’s not the best.” Daniel shook his head slightly.

"But that's the most attractive thing right now."

Wallace appeared noncommittal.

“Whether it’s attractive or not, it’s a road that’s hard to turn back from,” he said.

"Fortunately, I've spoken with their people."

"Three months. You're not considered a formal asset, you're just assisting with the project."

"Wait until the term expires, then decide whether you want to continue."

"They agreed?"

"Agreed. Consider this a favor I owe."

"."

Daniel listened to his nonchalant explanation and fell silent.

He couldn't quite describe the feeling in his heart.

He knew he should be grateful, and he truly was.

But at the same time, she knew that what she really wanted would probably disappoint her mentor.

So, after hesitating for a moment, he spoke solemnly:
"Thank you, sir. I—"

However, before he could finish his long speech, Wallace quickly interrupted him.

"You're welcome." The man glanced at his watch. "It's time to board."

"Let's save what we have to say for three months."

"Take good care of yourself."

He reached out his hand. Daniel grasped it firmly.

"You too."

The two let go of each other's hands.

Wallace patted his arm.

Then, without looking back, he walked toward the distant gangway.

Daniel watched him walk away until he disappeared into the cabin.

Several men in uniform followed closely behind, their epaulets gleaming gold.

Soon, the entire delegation boarded the military aircraft.

Only Daniel remained standing there, his hands in his pockets.

A few minutes later, the engine noise gradually increased.

The ground crew waved repeatedly, but their shouts were instantly swallowed up.

The next second, a teasing remark rang in my ears.

"Is your farewell ceremony over?"

Daniel turned his head.

Robert stood a few steps away.

He was wearing sunglasses and an old T-shirt, and dangling keys in his hand.

“I’ve been waiting for you for a while,” Daniel said.

Robert immediately laughed and took a few steps closer: "That's more like it. Come on."

They walked side by side toward the tarmac.

The ground was scorching hot, and it felt like your shoes would stick to it at any moment.

"Are you ready?"

"I never feel unprepared."

In the distance, a deep rumble came from the horizon.

Several gray military aircraft landed in succession.

The heatwave surged, and the air currents whipped up dust.

Robert followed Daniel's gaze.

"Ah, these are the rapid reaction forces I talked about yesterday."

He said it naturally.

"The 173rd Airborne Brigade, PACOM. They're all top-notch."

"The president personally ordered them to land as the advance force."

Daniel stared at the soldiers who were beginning to line up. "This is just the beginning."

“Of course,” Robert replied.

"Our task is to guide them on where to go and how to get there."

On the other side, a bustling crowd gathered under the flag.

A group of South Vietnamese officials stood in a row.

The one leading the group was a rather familiar face.

“Ruan Gaoqi is there.”

Robert glanced at it, a smirk playing on his lips. "Old military leader, new president."

“He was the one who greeted the delegation three days ago,” Daniel said.

"But at that time he was only the prime minister."

"Nguyen Van Thieu is the Chairman of the National Leadership Committee."

Upon hearing this, Robert didn't comment further, only saying, "Get in the car."

They walked toward the jeep parked in the corner.

The car started and immediately drove along the inner edge of the road towards the airport.

Robert was driving while casually rambling on about something.

Daniel agreed verbally, but his gaze remained fixed on the ceremony.

The blazing sun felt like flames, almost burning people.

Ruan Gaoqi raised his hand to block the sweat, but he could still feel the sweat streaming down his forehead.

The Americans are slower than expected.

It seems that the last group of people encountered a minor problem.

He looked around listlessly.

The transport planes were still parked there, their tails flashing a blinding white light.

The reporters braved the high temperatures and dutifully stood guard nearby.

Further north, there appears to be a jeep moving along.

It didn't have a license plate.

I can't see inside.

They appeared in the martial law zone.

Ruan Gaoqi immediately became alert.

The tragedy that occurred three days ago is still fresh in our minds.

Of course, for me, it was more like a godsend.

Even so, he nodded, signaling his adjutant to come closer.

"Is that car registered?" he asked softly.

“The car belongs to an American, sir,” the adjutant replied quickly.

"An American? What department?"

The adjutant shook his head: "I don't know. We were told not to ask about their identities."

Ruan Gaoqi immediately fell silent.

He raised his hand and straightened his sleeves.

Another transport plane landed in the distance.

Gray body with white background and blue stars.

The metal ramp slid down with a dull thud.

Ruan Gaoqi finally spotted the American brigade commander.

He was short in stature but broad-shouldered, and he was accompanied by an interpreter and two staff officers.

He went to meet them with practiced ease, completely disregarding the difference in their military ranks.

“Welcome to Saigon, General Williamson,” he greeted in English.

Thank you for your support.

“The president wants us to get started as soon as possible,” Williamson said bluntly.

"I also promised my lads that we'd be back in Okinawa before Thanksgiving."

Ruan Gaoqi's smile became increasingly genuine.

"I hope so," he said, then added, "Good luck to you."

There was a click.

The camera captured this moment permanently.

He looked radiant and full of life.

That's a belief.

It is believed that survival requires curbing the endless expansion of **.

I believe that the Democrats will eventually transform South Asia from its suffering state.

I believe that the flag of freedom will forever fly over this tropical land.

At the same time, another voice is quietly gathering.

People talk about equality, liberation, and resistance.

Their vocabulary was both unfamiliar and passionate.

Villages, streets, classrooms, jungles to valleys, ports to streets.

At this moment, no one knows—

Even the gentlemen sitting in Washington had no idea—

The war will not end on Thanksgiving.

It won't even end at the end of the new year.

No one can predict how it will end.

(End of this chapter)