Black Market by Donald E. Zlotnik

front end of a camouflaged truck pulled out of the hidden trail and stopped before negotiating the shallow ditch that
     bordered the road. A bamboo roof had been attached over the Russian-built truck that camouflaged the vehicle perfectly from
     the air when covered with fresh vegetation.
    Youngbloode grabbed Arnason’s arm and squeezed. A lot of very complex problems for the staff were being answered, and the
     NVA were so damn confident that they were moving during the day! Youngbloode couldn’t help but render a tight-lipped grin
     in respect for the NVA tactic. They planned their convoys perfectly to time with the mess hall hours of the helicopter pilots
     and the American patrols! The NVA knew that they could expect the Americans to stop patrolling around four o’clock and get
     set up for their night lager sites and for the gunships to head on back home for chow. The camouflaged entrance to the road
     also told Youngbloode that the NVA had their own road network that skirted around the American and ARVN fire bases and used
     Highway 19 only when they were far enough away from the bases so that they wouldn’t be detected.
    Arnason held his hand up with the palm facing his men. They were waiting for the signal to attack or to allow the convoy to
     pass their location.
    The driver of the truck opened his door and looked down at the ditch as he slowly maneuvered onto the road. He laughed and
     called back to the NVA operating the camouflaged gates. One of the soldiers ran up to the side of the truck and reached up
     for the package of cigarettes the driver was holding out for him to take. There was no doubt in Youngbloode or Arnason’s minds
     as to the brand the NVA was giving away; the bright green-and-white package unmistakably said SALEM.
    The guard ran back to his friends laughing and holding up the cigarettes. Arnason wondered how they could have missed seeing
     his team out in the road when they were setting up their claymores and felt a finger of fear sear its way into his guts. Maybe
     they had and were baiting him! He felt the sweat of indecision beading up on his forehead and then Youngbloode’s voice whispered
     in his ear. “We attacking?”
    Arnason looked at the captain and whispered back. “If it’s only one vehicle.”
    Youngbloode nodded and leaned forward. “If you agree, I’ll slip around behind those gate guards with Sanchez and take them
     out when the truck starts moving again.”
    “Go!”
    Youngbloode tapped Sanchez and started slipping back around the rear of the ambush team. The truck jerked and then started
     moving slowly down the highway. Arnason could see a person riding shotgun holding a map up to the window so that he could
     read it in the light. He assumed there were at least two more guards riding in the back of the covered vehicle.
    Arnason closed his fist. Kirkpatrick had been watching him and turned to wait until the truck was centered in the claymore
     kill zone before detonating his claymores.
    Warner kept twitching his nose as he waited with Woods. They could see the NVA truck and they had seen the guards come out
     of the jungle, but they couldn’t see Arnason. They had to wait until they heard Kirkpatrick’s claymores go off as the signal
     to execute the ambush. There would be only a couple seconds’ delay before they would fire theirs.
    The truck slowed down almost on cue in front of Kirkpatrick and he fired his claymores. The first mine tore through the passenger’s
     door and the second mine blew the rear tires to shreds.
    A light Russian machine gun opened fire almost instantly from a position next to the secret entrance to the highway and was
     answered by Warner’s redirected claymore. The machine gun stopped firing.
    Captain Youngbloode and Sanchez had passed Woods’s position and the captain had used hand signals to tell the NCO what he
     was going to do. The NVA guards were scrambling for their weapons when Youngbloode and Sanchez smelled the smoke from