P. O. W. (15 page)

“Hey, Sergeant… do you know how many officers pass through here in one day?” The captain looked at McDonald as if he were
nuts to ask such a dumb question.

“It’s very important, sir!
Very
important!” The tone in McDonald’s voice drew the attention of a Marine lieutenant colonel who had been reading a complex
battle plan. The officer looked up from his desk and recognized the sergeant who had been in the briefing earlier with General
Seacourt. “Sergeant McDonald?”

“Yes sir…” McDonald left the duty officer’s desk and went over to the lieutenant colonel’s, followed closely by Woods.

“Did you say a black captain?”

“Yes sir… thin… about twenty years old…
hard
eyes.”

“Does he have a budding Afro hairdo?”

“Could be…”

“He was here, right before the meeting with General Sea-court. I was going to have the MPs run a check on him, but the meeting
took precedence.”

“Shit! If only you would have!” McDonald slapped the lieutenant colonel’s desk. “Shit!”

“What’s going on?”

McDonald looked around the room. “Did he get any op orders? Overlays? Anything!”

“I watched him copy the battle plan of the I Corps map, and then he went over there to copy the top-secret op plan, and I
stopped him.” The officer pointed to the black vinyl with the red letters stenciled on it and the cardboard sign above it.

“That’s our plan?” McDonald questioned the officer.

“Yes.”

A cold chill slipped down McDonald’s spine. “Did he see it… even for a second?”

“I doubt it. He lifted the bottom corner and I stopped him.”

“Come and show me.” McDonald led the way over to the map that had the POW snatch laid out on it.

The lieutenant colonel lifted the corner of the cover a little higher than James had and looked at the sergeant.

“Hold it right there.” McDonald squatted down and viewed all of the map that had been exposed. It showed the lower half of
Laos, with a bit of the operational area exposed. “Man, that’s risky!”

“What in the hell is going on?” The Marine lieutenant colonel was confused and getting angry over being kept in the dark.

“James… or… what did he call himself?”

The Marine thought for a second, and then a light came on in his eyes. “He called himself James at first! Then he caught himself
and said his name was…” The officer’s eyes opened wide as he realized the irony in the name he was about to say. “Ben Arnold.”

“He’s got a set of brass balls!” McDonald looked at Woods and shook his head. “James was captured by the NVA only a few months
ago… less than that… and we think he’s turned coat. He’s working as an NVA spy and saboteur.”

“What was his rank?”

“Specialist Fourth Class… why?”

“I
knew
there was something about him that didn’t make sense…. He wore captain’s bars, but didn’t
act
like a captain.” The Marine officer wrinkled his lips until they turned white. “I should have followed my gut instincts!”

McDonald looked at the Marine officer and grinned. “We might just make this work for us, sir. If the NVA know our op plans,
they might just take
advantage
of that opportunity… right?”

The officer took only a second to grasp what McDonald was leading up to. “You’re right! We can change the plans and be waiting
for the NVA to attack our
weakest
points.” The lieutenant colonel nodded his head. “Good work, Sergeant!”

“It was Specialist Woods who saw him.” McDonald gave the credit to the young soldier.

“Well, there will be some kind of award for this! A lot of American lives have been saved, plus a traitor exposed, and I hate
to think how much damage James could have done! I mean, nobody would ever suspect a
black
soldier. A white GI could be mistaken for a Frenchman gone renegade, but a black soldier could go just about anywhere in
this country and never be questioned for being there.”

“I’d get the word out to the rest of the planning people in the other Corps if I were you, sir.” McDonald turned to leave.

“Believe me! By tomorrow night, James’s picture will be in the hands of every commander in Vietnam…. He won’t be able to show
his face to an American again!”

James ran behind the building and stopped to check if Woods had followed him. He saw his ex-teammate pause near the row of
vehicles and then go back inside the building. Sweat dripped off his chin. He waited until his breathing slowed down before
walking over to the helipad. He had to get out of Da Nang as soon as possible.

The noise from a jet engine reached him, and he started running again. A Huey slick was starting to warm up. James ran over
to the crew chief and asked where they were headed, and the man told him Con Thien and then out to Khe Sanh, a new area the
Marines were opening up. James asked if they were going to stop at the Rockpile, and the crew chief ran over and asked the
pilot, who was a black warrant officer.

The pilot beckoned James to come over to his window and yell above the noise of the engine so James could hear him. “Hop
on board…I’ll drop you off!
”

James gave the brother a thumbs-up and scrambled onto the nylon mesh seat. He kept looking back for Woods until the skids
left the ground, and then he relaxed against the seat and smiled as he patted his briefcase that contained the overlays of
the big combined arms operation. There was going to be a number of surprises during that operation that the Americans would
never forget!

The hut was clean and smelled of freshly split bamboo and new thatch. Colonel Garibaldi looked down at the woven mats covering
the floor and saw that they were also new. The hut had never been used before. There were two cots, one at each end of the
ten-by-eight-foot building. The only sign that the hut housed POWs was the chain with the leg brackets that was attached to
one of the main bamboo poles next to each bed.

“Look at this!” Barnett held up the new metal plate in one hand and the knife, fork, and spoon in his other hand.

“Something is going on that doesn’t make any sense.” Garibaldi shook his head. “First, the new hooch with a roof!” He looked
up at the shade-producing cover and closed his eyes in silent prayer. “It’s going to feel good sleeping at night and not get
rained on or bake all day in the sun.”

“Why do you think they’re doing this?” Spencer sat down on his cot.

“I don’t know….” Colonel Garibaldi sat down across from the soldier. “I’ve been in a half-dozen of their POW camps, and I’ve
never even heard of them allowing two prisoners to live together, much less given them all of these luxury items!” Garibaldi
let his eyes sweep over the new blankets, eating utensils, spare clothes, water cans, and even a wash basin with a mirror
attached to the wall of the hut.

“Well, I don’t know what they’ve got planned, but I’m going to enjoy it while it lasts!” Spencer stretched out on the bamboo-framed
cot that had been padded with thatch.

Colonel Garibaldi jumped to his feet. “Someone is coming….”

Lieutenant Van Pao stepped through the low doorway and entered the hut smiling. She was followed by a small man wearing steel-frame
glasses and carrying a dark brown leather satchel. “How are my Americans feeling today?” Van Pao’s smile spread out over her
face.

“Very good, ma’am.” Colonel Garibaldi tilted forward slightly as a sign of respect and submission. He knew how to play the
survival game well.

Barnett started getting up off his cot, but Van Pao stopped him by holding out her hand. “You may stay there, Spencer Barnett.”
She had begun calling him by both of his names since he had survived the whole night in Mother Kaa’s cage without screaming
even once. “Dr. Tam is going to examine you and the colonel and see if you need any special medical attention.” She motioned
for the North Vietnamese doctor to start examining Barnett.

The doctor used Van Pao as an interpreter and asked numerous questions about his health and how he was feeling as he conducted
the examination. He had Spencer strip down to his new black pajama pants and checked his heart rate and lungs. The doctor
barked a set of orders and looked at the lieutenant. She smiled and closed her eyes halfway before translating the order into
English. “He wants you to stand up and lower your pants.”

Spencer didn’t hesitate. He wasn’t going to give Sweet Bitch a second of pleasure by acting modest in front of her. He knew
that she often hid near the POW latrine pit and watched them relieve themselves. She had a definite problem. Colonel Garibaldi
had told him earlier that he thought she secretly wished she were a man and was extremely jealous of male sex organs.

The doctor gently squeezed Barnett’s testicles and spoke sharply in Vietnamese to Van Pao. She shrugged her shoulders and
spoke in a very respectful tone to the doctor and then asked Barnett, “Did you have a recent
accident
where you bruised your organs?”

Barnett glared at the lieutenant and knew that if he spoke the truth she would change it to what she wanted in translating
to the doctor. He nodded his head in the affirmative. The doctor had been watching his face and could read the expression.
He asked another question, and Van Pao translated it.

“Have you been passing blood with your urine?”

Spencer nodded yes.

“Is there pain when you urinate?”

Spencer nodded his head again.

“Do your testes hurt?”

Spencer paused before answering and shook his head no, even though they still throbbed from the beating he had received.

The doctor opened his bag and removed a hypodermic needle and gave Spencer seven shots from different bottles of medicine.

“You see, Spencer Barnett, the People’s Army takes very good care of its prisoners of war.” Lieutenant Van Pao lifted a fork
off the small shelf. “How do you people eat with these things? Don’t you stick yourselves?”

Barnett stared at the North Vietnamese officer without answering her. The doctor handed Spencer a tube of ointment for the
soles of his feet and a roll of gauze.

Spencer looked directly into the eyes of the medical man and spoke in English. “Thank you.” The universal tone of voice that
spoke gratitude did not need translation. The doctor gave Spencer a curt nod and left to examine Colonel Garibaldi.

Lieutenant Van Pao kept watching Spencer while Garibaldi was being examined. She was trying to figure a way to break him before
the division intelligence officer arrived. She had very little time left.

The doctor gave Colonel Garibaldi a large bottle of vitamin C and the same series of vitamin-B shots that he had given to
Spencer, except for the dose of penicillin Spencer had been given to fight the numerous infections he was suffering from.

Colonel Garibaldi waited until the Vietnamese left the small hut and then handed Spencer some of the vitamin-C tablets.

“You keep them, Colonel.” Barnett knew the officer was suffering from scurvy.

“There’s plenty more in the bottle, and if you don’t have some vitamin C, you’ll end up losing your teeth too!”

Spencer accepted the gift and thanked the colonel. He chewed one of the tablets slowly and tasted the acid. It reminded him
of a certain brand of candy that he would buy when he had gone to the movies as a little kid.

The sun was setting, and the old Montagnard entered the POW compound carrying a bucket of hot food. His grandson walked next
to him as a guide and also to carry a bucket of rice wine. The old man set the bucket down on the small porch of the raised
hut and waited for the Americans to come out.

Spencer was the first one out, carrying his tin plate, followed by the colonel. The old man lifted the lid and Spencer’s breath
caught in his throat. He could see the large hunks of boiled fish and the yellow pieces of egg in the rice.

“Shit, sir! Look at that!”

Garibaldi looked over Spencer’s shoulder, but he had already smelled the food and knew that it was something more than the
normal boiled rice without even salt added. “Something
is
going on!”

“Fuck them! As long as they want to mess with my mind like this, I don’t give a fuck!” Spencer used his spoon to pile his
plate high with the wholesome food.

The boy held up the container of rice wine. Garibaldi lifted the lid and smelled the fermenting juice. “I am going to wake
up shortly and find out that we’re eating monkey shit and drinking elephant piss!”

The boy smiled and motioned with his hands that they were to keep the whole container of wine.

Barnett caught hold of himself before the Montagnards left, and using the food containers to block the view of anyone watching
them from the guard hut or from the thick vegetation on the other side of the fence, he made the motion of a knife cutting
on his wrist and looked at the boy. The nine-year-old smiled and nodded his head once. He had understood.

Garibaldi carried the wine and Spencer carried the tin of food back into their new hut. They were going to feast and get drunk,
very drunk, while the dream lasted.

James and Lieutenant Van Pao watched the Montagnards leave the small American compound through the small spy hole she had
cut in the side of her office hut.

“Well?” Van Pao asked James to comment.

“Very good! You’ll see that it will pay off when she arrives here tomorrow afternoon with the general.”

“It had better! We’ve wasted good medicine on them! The doctor was so angry when he left that he said he was going to send
a message to Hanoi personally! He has troops dying because there isn’t enough penicillin, and he had to waste it on Spencer
Barnett!”

“Believe me…
You’ll
get a letter from Hanoi rewarding you for your excellent service!” James took a sip from his glass of Johnny Walker Black.
“I’m going to visit them.”

“Make sure you don’t say anything to mess up tomorrow’s visit!” Van Pao glared at James. He was becoming too powerful with
the senior officers. His latest mission at Da Nang had cemented his trust with the top generals, and there was even talk of
giving him a commission in the People’s Army!