Authors: Donald E. Zlotnik
James waited until he couldn’t hear the sound of the metal forks against the plates inside the hut before entering the compound.
Garibaldi was lifting a cup of Montagnard rice wine to his mouth when he stepped through the door. James held a half-empty
bottle of Johnny Walker Black in his left hand and an almost empty glass in his right. “A toast, Colonel?”
Garibaldi paused and then poured his cup of wine out on the floor.
“Dumb! But you can do what you want with your booze…. Me… I’m going to drink mine.” James sipped noisily from his glass and
then smacked his lips. “Good stuff.”
Spencer glared at the traitor from his seat on his cot.
“Well, Spence! How are you doing today? Better, I hope!” James held his glass to his mouth and smiled before taking another
sip. His eyes were colder than a cobra’s. He was getting in with the NVA generals, and as soon as his reputation was secure
with them, he was going to ask for Spencer Barnett.
The question burned inside of Spencer, and even though he hated to talk to James, he had to ask. “Where do you get all that
stuff?”
James acted as if Spencer’s voice came out of the sky. He looked up at the ceiling and barked, “A voice! I hear a voice!”
“Knock off the bullshit, James…. Where do you come up with Marlboro cigarettes and American booze out here in the jungle?”
James removed his pack of cigarettes. “Kools… Kool 100s… is my brand.”
Barnett was finished talking and sipped from his cup of Montagnard wine.
“So you really want to know?” James lit a Kool and inhaled deeply before answering Barnett. “Really, it’s simple. A matter
of
greed
, but that’s the
American way
… isn’t it, Colonel?” He looked over at Garibaldi, who sat on the edge of his cot holding his empty cup upside down. James
shrugged. “Do you remember guys like Sergeant Shaw?” James waited for Barnett to acknowledge his question.
Barnett nodded.
“Guys like Shaw black-market…
anything
. Like I said, it’s all a matter of greed. They think they’re selling to crooked
South
Vietnamese, but actually they’re selling to
our
agents.” James drained his glass and poured it full again. “Does that answer your question?”
Barnett nodded.
“Oh! I almost forgot to tell you! I saw your old buddy yesterday in Da Nang….” James walked over and refilled Garibaldi’s
cup with Johnny Walker Black. “If you pour that out, I’ll have them cut your nuts off! Now drink,
Colonel
!”
Garibaldi obeyed. He raised the cup to his lips and sipped the scotch. He felt like crying. Scotch had been his favorite drink.
The taste and smell brought back a flood of memories: his wife, the Officers’ Club at Seymour Johnson Air Force Base in North
Carolina, parties… happy times.
Barnett waited for James to continue talking. He was curious as to whom James was referring to.
“You know, this is a good life here at A Rum. I’ve got me a tight hole, good food, plenty of money….”
Garibaldi knew where the money was coming from and felt the scotch in his mouth turn bitter.
“Did I tell you that they’re thinking of making me an
officer
? A real officer in the People’s Army.” James sipped from his glass and raised his eyebrows. “I’m good, you know… real good
at what I do!”
Barnett felt his hopes drop. He really wanted to know who James had seen in Da Nang.
“Woods!”
James stomped his foot on the mat and pointed at Barnett. “Gotcha! You thought I forgot what I was talking about, didn’t
you!” James was getting drunk. “I saw your fucking buddy Woods back at the XXIV Corps Headquarters!”
Garibaldi acted as if he weren’t paying any attention to James, but he was absorbing every word that he said. He held the
cup of scotch in both hands, pretending it was a rare treat.
“Now ask me,
Spence
…. What was I doing at the XXIV Headquarters yesterday?”
Barnett glanced over at Garibaldi, and he nodded for him to ask.
“What were you doing at the XXIV Corps Headquarters yesterday?”
“Sir!”
James glared at Barnett.
“Say sir!”
“Sir.”
“That’s better.” James set the empty glass down and drank directly from the open bottle. “I was getting overlays off the Corps
battle maps.” James enjoyed the conversation, and it made him feel good to brag about his exploits. Barnett and Garibaldi
would appreciate how much guts it took to pull off what he had done. “I just walked right in there and copied their battle
plans for the next month! I must say they’re a bunch of dumb motherfuckers!”
“When did you see David?”
“Oh! You want to talk some more…. That wine must have loosened your white motherfuckin’ tongue!” James staggered to his feet.
“Well,
fuck you
!” He left the hut, bumping against the sides of the door and missing the ladder.
Barnett smiled when he heard James cuss as he hit the ground after falling off the three-foot-high porch.
Garibaldi waited until James was out of the compound. They could hear him cussing as he walked back to his hooch in the dark.
“Oh, damn! This scotch is
so
good!” Garibaldi hugged the cup.
Spencer found the whole act extremely funny and started laughing. The Montagnard wine was having its effect.
Colonel Garibaldi stared at the seventeen-year-old soldier. It was the first time he had heard the boy laugh, and then he
thought about himself. He hadn’t laughed in
years
.
The sun had been up for hours. The Montagnard boy entering the hut woke Barnett from his deep sleep. Garibaldi struggled up
on one elbow. They were both still drunk. The small boy picked up the night pot in the corner and noticed that it had been
used only to urinate in. He carried it to the doorway and paused to look back at Barnett. The boy spoke a brief sentence in
Bru and left.
Barnett struggled to his feet and then dropped back down on the cot. He felt like shit. The wine had been good the night before,
but he was paying for it now.
“It must be mid-morning!” Garibaldi looked out of the door. “They let us sleep in! This is unbelievable!”
“Enjoy it!” Barnett felt like puking but fought the urge. He wasn’t going to waste any of the food that he had eaten the night
before.
The Montagnard boy returned from emptying the night pot and set the earthenware pot back down in the corner. A North Vietnamese
guard waited in the doorway for the boy to finish. Barnett smiled at the nine-year-old who had helped him when he had been
beaten and placed in the cage with Mother Kaa. The boy smiled back and nodded at the night pot before slipping out of the
door.
Barnett didn’t catch the meaning of the nod.
Garibaldi went out on the tiny porch and looked around the camp to see if there was any activity. He saw the normal guards
in their thatch-covered hooches and noticed that all of them were wearing new uniforms.
“Something is going on today, Spencer.” Garibaldi went back over to his cot.
“I feel like shit!” Barnett held his head with both hands.
“Montagnard wine does that to you… powerful stuff.” Garibaldi looked over at the night pot and frowned. “I wonder if they’re
going to let us out of here today.”
“Why?”
“I’ve got to defecate and I don’t want to use the night pot if I don’t have to.” Garibaldi felt his stomach roll and knew
that he wouldn’t be able to hold it for more than a couple of minutes more. “Damn, I’ve got to go!”
Barnett struggled to his feet and went out on the porch to give the colonel a little privacy.
Garibaldi went over to the corner and untied the drawstring of his peasant pants. He looked in the pot before squatting over
it and was glad that he did; two eight-inch-long Montagnard knives were inside the smelly container.
* * *
Lieutenant Van Pao waited on the edge of the jungle clearing with two of the camp guards. She was nervous and knew that when
the helicopter landed, her future career could go either way. The sound of the helicopter approaching startled her, even though
she was expecting it. The guards quickly checked their uniforms and shouldered their AK-47s.
The helicopter came in low and dropped down on the short grass in the clearing the Montagnards used to graze their animals.
A North Vietnamese general and two Americans got out of the chopper, and Lieutenant Van Pao hurried to report to her division
commander and his guests. The chopper crew pulled the camouflage netting from its storage place and quickly covered the aircraft
before finding cool spots at the edge of the jungle to smoke and wait for their commander.
Van Pao saluted the general and smiled a greeting to the Americans. “It is a pleasure having you visit my small POW camp.”
The American female smiled and looked over at her manager. “She speaks English; how nice.”
“A lot of people do, my dear.” The American celebrity’s manager was hot and bored. He hadn’t wanted her to take this trip
out into the damn jungle, but she had insisted.
“Yes, I learned English at the University of Hanoi.” Van Pao glanced over at the general for approval. “Let me show you the
way.” She took the lead down the trail to the Montagnard village. “I have two American POWs here at A Rum and fifty-three
South Vietnamese and Montagnard CIDG prisoners.”
“Let’s skip them and show us the Americans….” The starlet’s manager was worried about being so close to the South Vietnamese
border. He was too rich to get himself killed fucking around a war zone.
“If you like.” Van Pao hid her hate.
Garibaldi and Barnett were sitting in the shade of their hut when the NVA party and their guests arrived outside the gate.
Colonel Garibaldi was the first one to see the visitors. “I know why they moved us to this hut.”
“Why?” Barnett looked up at the colonel. He had his back facing the gate to the small American POW compound.
“Look behind you.” Garibaldi’s voice got lower with each word.
Spencer turned and watched Sweet Bitch lead the party of visitors into the compound. He noticed that James was not with them,
nor was he anywhere around the area.
Garibaldi and Barnett both stood and genuflected when the NVA general approached the porch. Van Pao smiled; she wasn’t sure
that Spencer would obey the camp rules when senior officers visited. It had nothing to do with her; Garibaldi had explained
that it was proper for them to show respect to officers senior to them. This was the first general to visit the camp, and
it was the first time that Garibaldi had shown the Vietnamese sign of respect.
“Hi, soldiers!” The starlet smiled and tried acting cheerful. “What state are you from?” She spoke to Garibaldi first.
“I’m a professional soldier and we’ve lived all over the country.” Garibaldi struggled to keep his voice calm. He recognized
the woman from her roles in the movies. She was a big-name star. Garibaldi swore to himself that if he ever escaped from the
camp and made it back to the States, he would never go to see one of her pictures again. “We’ve bought a retirement home in
Colorado.”
“Oh! Really? I have a small place at Aspen…. We’re almost neighbors!” The phony statement made Garibaldi’s stomach roll. He
hoped that he wouldn’t have to take a shit. He had little control over his bowels, and the rich food he’d been given the night
before was passing right through him.
A guard approached the group and bowed to the general before placing a pot on the porch that contained a boiled chicken and
vegetables.
“Mmmmm… that smells good!” She sniffed the pot. “At least the North Vietnamese treat you well…. It’s better than living in
a dirty foxhole somewhere… isn’t it?” She addressed Spencer.
Lieutenant Van Pao glared at Spencer as he just stood there looking at the American woman.
“It depends on what you’re
doing
in the foxhole.” Spencer’s voice was soft.
The manager noticed Spencer for the first time. The heat and insects were tormenting him. He had been swatting at anything
that moved since he got off the helicopter. He noticed how handsome the younger soldier was, even though he was a good fifteen
pounds underweight. “Soldier, how old are you?” The lisp was evident and exaggerated.
Garibaldi prayed Spencer wouldn’t say something they both would regret.
“Seventeen.”
“Seventeen! You’re just a boy! You should be chasing
girls
down Hollywood Boulevard!” The queer manager batted his eyes at Spencer.
“I’d like to; would you mind taking me with you when you leave?” Spencer grinned.
“Mmmm… that sounds like fun, but I don’t think our friends here would like that very much…. Maybe later.” The man looked away
shyly.
Garibaldi felt like puking.
“Where are you from?” the actress asked Spencer.
He looked directly into her eyes and then quickly down at the ground. She mistook the submissive act for shyness; actually,
Spencer knew that if he continued looking at her he would punch out her capped teeth.
Spencer continued studying the ground. “The
United States of America
.” The statement was complete and she didn’t push it.
“Well, it was nice talking to you. I can see that you have been well cared for, but that is to be expected. The North Vietnamese
are a
civilized
people. It is
we
who can learn from them. We are the aggressors!” She brushed a wisp of loose hair out of her eyes. “Is there anything you
would like me to tell anyone back home?” She looked at Barnett and then at Garibaldi.
Garibaldi hesitated and then decided it was more important for his wife to know that he was still alive than to say nothing
to the woman. “Yes, would you tell my wife that I’m alive… I’m fine…. My name is Salvador Garibaldi.”
“Oh… Italian… I’ll have to write that one down.” She searched for a pen and paper. Her manager pulled out his notebook and
handed it to the colonel. He wrote his name, rank, and serial number down, and then he wrote Spencer’s name. He wanted someone
to know that both of them were alive and were POWs.