The Path to the Outside

By Robert James Allison

Book Two of the Solitaire trilogy.

The horrors of the Vietnam War robbed a seventeen-year-old boy, an ordinary soldier, an MP, of his youth, and turned him into an extraordinary man. He endured events so traumatic that they pushed him outside of society and the world. Now he remains lost from that world, dead to all who ever knew him, struggling to serve a country that took his life and identity away forever. He exists alone with a different name and identity on every mission—no place to call home, nowhere to find rest, until the day he is too slow. He is so thoroughly and completely lost from the world that he has even forgotten who he is himself, where he came from, what path took him to the outside, and why he does what he does. How much longer can he remain sane? Is it already too late?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Robert James Allison
• Release date: Mar 22, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301268375

Robert James Allison

I was born and raised in Decatur, Illinois, but moved to the Moweaqua area around 1991. I like small towns and rural settings, as does my wife of thirty-five years, Barbara. We have two grown children, John and Anna to whom I dedicated my first book, The First Suitor. I started writing about fifteen years ago as a diversion from my regular job as an attorney. At that time I had been practicing law in Central Illinois for about fifteen years and was looking for another avenue to exercise my writing and organizational skills. Now after thirty years of practicing law I would like to write full time, but yet I find myself full time in the law and part time in writing. I enjoy telling stories and some would say that all lawyers are born fiction writers, because fiction is all they write in the first place. I have to admit that there is some truth to that.I have had five books published with Wings ePress, Inc., and more manuscripts in the works. I recently started the process of removing all of my books from Wings and putting them on Amazon in Kindle format and other digital sites. In the future I plan to publish all of my books in ebook format on various sites such as Amazon and Barnes & Noble. Some new books will be going up soon, too.Recently I have retired from the private practice of law and have relocated to Louisville, Kentucky.I try to draw on my experiences in the practice of law and my life experiences in general to give realism to my stories and characters. In the 1970s I served in the U.S. Army as a Military Policeman and in the late '80s, I was a Captain in the U.S. Army Judge Advocate General Corps, Army National Guard. I have been to Germany, France, Belgium, Holland, and many of the United States. I like to work the settings of the places I've been and things I've done into my stories. I write romance into almost every book, but it isn't always the main theme and it is never explicit or vulgar.I am foremost and always an entertainer and that is why I write fiction, but I try to make it real and believable as well as entertaining.

Book preview

The Path to the Outside

by

Robert James Allison

An Action Adventure

Book Two of the Solitaire Trilogy

Copyright © 1998 by Robert James Allison

Published by First Suitor Enterprises at Smashwords

March 2013

Cover photo:

The author’s Bible and service revolver

All rights reserved

Names, characters, and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

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Dedication

To those dedicated men and women who anonymously serve the United States of America amidst danger and drudgery.

Chapter One

Boyce Tomlinson sat on the end of his bunk, under an open window, sweltering in the heat and humidity. There was no escaping it. Even the open window didn’t help. There wasn’t a bit of breeze stirring, inside or outside the hut. His olive drab army uniform was soaked clear through. Ain’t a cool time of day or place in this whole stinking country, he decided for the tenth time this hour, as he took a deep cleansing breath that was far from cleansing. The air was heavy with the smell of decaying vegetation and deep breaths only brought more stench through your nostrils.

He was trying to take it easy after having just come off convoy duty, but the heat and humidity wasn’t helping him any. Still, it was better than where he had just been. At least nobody was shooting at him here. In order to take his mind off the miserable conditions, he let his mind wander back to a list of names he had stared at so many months ago in the company assembly area at Fort Gordon, Georgia. It was the list of members of his military police training company who were being sent to Vietnam.

The list had contained the whole company and of all the names on that list there were only four he knew to still be alive and well in Vietnam, Phil Adams, Steve Baxter, Todd Wacker, and himself. The rest were dead, missing or seriously wounded and in hospitals, either here or in the States, none expected to live very long.

His mind snapped back to the present as the door of the hut opened and Todd Wacker stepped in sweating from head to toe, saying, Man is it sweltering out there, Boyce.

Just as bad in here, Todd. The rain only made it worse.

Man will I be glad to get out of this country and back to some decent temperatures. I’ll never complain about summer again, Todd said as he dropped his large frame onto his bunk, stretched out his six-foot-four-inch body and propped his head on a pillow.

Won’t be too long and then we’ll all go home, but there are only four of us left, as far as I can tell. I tried to keep track you know. The word I get from the other units the company was scattered among is that everyone else is dead or in the hospital. Not a light wound in the bunch either. Adams is over in Da Nang and working the streets. You, me and Bax are all here.

Bax is down, Todd said evenly as he swatted at a group of flies descending on his chest.

What do you mean down! Boyce blurted out and stood up, his six-foot-180-pound frame towering over Todd’s bunk.

"I mean down. He was on a gunship escorting a Chinook up to firebase Zebra. About half way there they took some heavy ground fire and his Huey went in. The Chinook turned around and hightailed it out of the area. They couldn’t afford to take a round loaded to the gills with high explosive and white phosphorus mortar rounds. That Chinook would’ve been a big ball of fire if a round hit them in the right place.

"Anyway the other gunship circled over where the Huey went in and they saw two men on the ground, but couldn’t get in to pull them out. The ground fire was just too heavy. I talked to one of the door gunners and he swears he recognized Bax on the ground with Sellers. They were ‘hot footing’ it toward the brush when his gunship pulled off to follow the Chinook out.

Guess the Huey’s crew bought it though. Only the two were seen out and moving around. The word is that Huey hit real hard. Took a SAM right in the top rotor assembly and it dropped like a rock. Smoke and fire everywhere. Bax is toast. Even if it were him on the ground the Viet Cong have him by now. According to the other Huey crew the place was alive with VC and Regulars.

Any word on a rescue mission?

No way man! I told you that place was alive with VC. They were ten or fifteen clicks north of the Demilitarized Zone. Firebase Zebra is another ten clicks north of that. They ain’t going to send no one in there for two lousy MPs.

How about the Green Berets up on the firebase? Surely they got patrols out. Ain’t they alerting the firebase?

Nope. Those Green Berets are barely holding on and they may not make it through the night without more ammo. That’s why the Chinook was heading up there before dark as it was. Those Green Berets got more troubles than a couple of MPs wandering around in the brush ten clicks south of their base.

Boyce spun around and headed for the door. Going to see the first sergeant.

He took the four steps to the ground in two and hit the mud at the bottom at a fast walk. He crossed the 300-yard compound in record time and knocked briskly and firmly on the door of the first sergeant’s hut.

Enter, the first sergeant growled through the door.

He opened the door and stepped in saying, Evening, Top. I was hoping you would still be here.

What can I do for you, Corporal Tomlinson? the slightly overweight and balding first sergeant asked gruffly while shuffling through a pile of papers on his desk.

Is it true that two of my men went down in a Huey about ten clicks north of DMZ this afternoon? he asked, in a less than amiable tone.

The first sergeant’s head snapped up and he said, your men! They were my men, too, Tomlinson! I’m first sergeant of this whole company you know! You MPs may just be attached to us for security, but you’re my men, too, he finished indignantly.

A little more calmly than he felt, Boyce responded, Sure, Top, I know. What I mean though is that I am the senior MP and they are my responsibility, too. You see that they get fed and housed, but I see that they get on and off their missions alive. Not able to completely hide his indignation. He didn’t have the time in the army that the first sergeant had, but he had been beating the bushes in Vietnam long enough to know how the wind blew. Tomorrow his orders could move him clear across the country and he would still be in charge of his detachment and this first sergeant would still be here with this company.

It’s true, the first sergeant now responded flatly, leaned back in his chair and rubbed what was left of the hair on his head.

Anyone going in to get them out?

Sitting up straight now the first sergeant responded hotly, Are you crazy, Tomlinson! That place was crawling with VC. The word is that they are pulling the plug on firebase Zebra it’s so hot up there. Now how in the world do you expect us to get out two MPs who are wandering around in the bush like fish out of water?

I can’t leave them out there, Top. Somebody has to go in and get them. Ain’t there any rangers or special ops teams in the area? They get paid for extractions.

No there aren’t and if there were they wouldn’t go in for two lonely MPs. They go in for big fish, Tomlinson, not a couple of privates wearing MP armbands. Now that might sound callous to you, but that’s the way it is and that’s the way it will stay. Your men, as you put it, took their chances and lost. That’s what they get paid to do, he ended with finality.

Boyce was not going to let it go that easy. They may not be big fish to you, Top, but they don’t come any bigger in my book. I wouldn’t even leave you up there in the bush with all those VC, he ended in obvious contempt. He didn’t like the first sergeant and the feeling had always been mutual. Just why they had never hit it off he didn’t know and didn’t care. Right now he was only concerned about two of his men alone and in enemy territory with their chances of survival slipping away by the moment.

As if in response to his unspoken words the first sergeant said, "look Tomlinson, I never did like you and you never did like me, but I’m telling you now that you are wasting your time! If those guys aren’t already dead they are in the hands of the VC and that means they are at least 15 clicks north of firebase Zebra by now and as good as dead.

The closest POW camp that we know of for sure is about 25 clicks north of the firebase and that’s almost 50 clicks from the DMZ. Even if we were inclined to go in after those two we wouldn’t do it without knowing exactly where they were being held. Why, it would be like looking for a needle in a haystack.

Boyce put in, Surely we can get an over flight or two up there. Maybe one of them has a working radio and can signal us.

No, Tomlinson, it ain’t going to happen. Get it through your head. This battalion isn’t going to waste any manpower or equipment looking for two MPs in the bush. We have bigger problems right now. If your men are half as good as you seem to think you are, then they will get out by themselves, but they ain’t getting any help from me or anyone else around here. Now get out of my office and tend to what’s left of your precious detachment, which we never needed around here in the first place! As he ended the pitch of his voice grew.

Boyce didn’t respond. He spun on his heels and left the office—afraid to stay any longer. He was sure that in another five seconds he would have climbed right over the first sergeant’s desk and taken him on. He might not have won, but he figured the first sergeant would have known he had been in a fight. But that wouldn’t get his men out, either.

He went straight back to his hut to calm down before he took the head off of the first guy he saw who out ranked him and there were plenty of them. He had made corporal for two reasons. One, he was one of the last men left from his original company attached to this unit and two, he was a natural born organizer, a planner, a get-things-done kind of guy.

Todd was gone when he got back to the hut and it was probably a good thing. He seethed and ranted to himself, but he finally decided that wasn’t getting him anywhere so he started thinking and planning.

After about 30 minutes of calm thinking and research, he headed out of the hut and over to the air support facility a couple of hundred yards south of the compound. As he got close he could see that a helicopter was being prepped for a flight. He found one of the pilots he had become friends with and said, you guys going to try to get that shipment of ammo up to firebase Zebra later tonight?

I guess so, Boyce. Those guys ain’t going to make it through the night without more ammo. We got to make another go of it.

What time you figure on leaving?

Figured you’d know more about that than me. You MPs handle the security, the pilot responded.

No. Not on this one. I’m down to just me and one other man and I don’t think the first sergeant is overly happy with me right now. Doesn’t seem as though he has much use for my detachment or me. He seems to figure the unit would be better off if we were stateside harassing trainees.

The warrant officer leaned back against the helicopter, pulled out a cigarette and said, that could be what he thinks, but the rest of us don’t think that way. We appreciate what help we can get, when we can get it. I never seen you or any of your men shirk a mission and there have been plenty of times I was glad you guys were along to add to the firepower.

Lighting his cigarette and inhaling deeply he continued as he let the smoke drift out of his nostrils, The first sergeant now, he got rousted a couple of times by the MPs. Once back in the states he got popped for driving drunk and spent six months in the can. He lost a stripe, too. He had it coming, but he didn’t see it that way and now he hates MPs with a passion.

Well, that explains a lot, Mitch. Now I don’t feel like it’s something personal anyway.

Sorry about your men this afternoon, Boyce. We couldn’t get down to them. This baby, the pilot waived his cigarette at the Chinook and continued, was loaded down to the max with high explosive ordnance. One round in the wrong place and we were history. The gunship tried, but the fire was just too heavy. Must have been a battalion of regulars down there firing up at us, the pilot finished with genuine remorse in his voice.

No problem, Mitch. I know you would have got to them if you could have, but now the problem is that no one is going to waste the time to even try. That’s why I’m here. How about I stow away on the way up and if the opportunity arises you drop me on the far side of the firebase?

Alone? You’re crazy. You wouldn’t stand a chance in there by yourself. Even if I could get you in. Why, they would swarm all over you in minutes, the pilot responded incredulous and tossed his cigarette to the ground, mashing it firmly with the toe of his boot and at the same time shook another cigarette out of a pack.

Almost pleading, Boyce said, maybe, but I have to try. Those are my men down there. Not the first sergeant’s and not the commander’s, but my men. If I don’t get them out they’ll never come out.

The pilot just stared and after a while Boyce continued, "Look, Mitch. I’d do the same for you, but I need a little help. If I have to, I’ll walk in, but with your help I could get a lot closer, a lot faster, and maybe have a chance to get them out. Get me in there. I’ll get them out or I’ll die with them and no one will be the wiser.

Your crew doesn’t have to know. I’ll hide in the back by the open cargo door. You drop her down kind of accidental like on the other side of the base and I’ll jump out, he ended earnestly.

How in the world are you going to jump out and not get yourself killed? You won’t know where you are jumping to and I won’t be able to tell you. I might not even be able to get closer than 50 feet off of the ground and then what? Odds are you’ll be dead when you hit the ground and if you aren’t the VC will get you inside of 15 minutes, the pilot now pleaded and then continued, Boyce, I like you and I’ve seen enough men killed already.

I’ll take the chance. Are you willing to take the chance to get me down to 15 feet? Just hover for two seconds at 15 feet over the clearest spot you can find and I’ll take my chances. If I get caught and the heat comes down then I’ll swear you had nothing to do with it. I’ll tell them I hid in the helicopter without you knowing it, okay? he ended hopefully.

So I get you in and you don’t kill yourself jumping and the Viet Cong don’t get you. How you going to find them and get them out?

I figure with the heat on the firebase that they snapped up Bax and Sellers and took them right on up to the POW camp north of the base. They wouldn’t hold them down around the firebase with all that’s going on there. Those VC are making a big push and they ain’t got the time to hold no prisoners.

Right and that’s why they killed your men on the spot. Never thought of that did you? the pilot said defiantly.

I thought of it, but I have to know for sure. Get me in there, Mitch. I’ll hike up to the POW camp and have a look.

You are crazy. That ain’t no Sunday stroll in the park you know. That little hike will be through at least 20 clicks of nothing but jungle. Jungle that is alive with VC and regulars. Even if you get to the camp, which I doubt you will, you ain’t going to be able to get them out and get them back alone. You’ll have to walk 50 clicks. No, you’ll have to crawl 50 clicks.

I got a plan.

A plan! You got rocks in your head, the pilot yelled and stared at him. After a minute with their eyes locked the pilot continued, Okay, okay. I’ll get you in there, but for only one reason. Maybe next time it will be me and you’ll come to get me out.

You just say when you want me to come, Mitch. I’ll come any time you need me. Maybe I won’t get you out, but I guarantee that if I don’t, you won’t die alone.

The pilot spat out terse instructions, Thirty minutes. You meet me over by the operation shack in 30 minutes. I’ll fix a spot near the back cargo ramp where you can hide. Bring your gear and be ready.

Thanks, Mitch.

Don’t thank me. Even if you are lucky enough to pull this off they’re going to court martial you. I just hope they don’t court martial me, too.

They won’t find out about you. I promise. I’ll take any heat there is to take. I don’t care if they court martial me just so long as I get Baxter and Sellers out alive, he finished and turned to head back to his hut.

One more thing, Mitch yelled as he turned away.

What?

Was I you, I’d use my last 30 minutes to talk to the chaplain or at least read my Bible. You got a Bible don’t you?

Yeah, sure. But I ain’t got time for Bible reading. I got things to do. Besides, I ain’t opened that Bible for over a year now. I’m not so sure God really exists or if he does he’s not in this place, he said as he turned away.

Back at his hut he dug out his maps again and studied them thoroughly. Then he sat back and contemplated his plan. A hasty plan, but it might just work. Glancing at his watch he decided he had better get those things he was going to need and get them in a hurry.

Thirty minutes later, right on the dot, he was next to the operation shack when Mitch came out. Mitch walked over to him and said, okay, I got a spot fixed up for you in the back. You stay down and after we unload at the base, if we get to unload, I’ll swing north of the base for as far as I dare and hover down to 15 feet for a few seconds. When I’m down the cargo chief will flash a light in your face just once. When you see the light you jump. Jump fast, because I won’t stay down over five seconds at most. The cargo chief knows the score and he’s a good man. You got to know when to jump and I can’t come back to tell you so I’ll tell him and he will signal you. Okay? he ended.

Sure and thanks again, he said extending his right hand toward the pilot.

Waving off the handshake Mitch said flatly, Don’t mention it. I mean that, too. Whatever happens, don’t mention it...so where’s your rifle?

Ain’t taking one. Just my .45 that’s all.

What! Now that is crazy!

No, it isn’t. I can’t fight all those VC no matter what I take in. I got to do this quiet or I’m dead. I really don’t need this .45, but I just can’t make myself go in with only a knife.

Guess you got a point there. Well, come on and I’ll show you where to hide, he ended and walked off toward the helicopter, shaking his head from side to side in surrender, clearly not at all happy with being pulled into this crazy scheme. Boyce just followed silently.

It was an hour before flight time so no one was around the helicopter when Boyce climbed aboard and huddled down in to the cramped, but adequate, hiding place. Before the crew arrived he kept half standing to stretch his legs. The last thing he wanted was to get a cramp half way to the drop zone or worse, after he jumped out of the helicopter.

The hour seemed more like ten, but eventually he heard the crew arrive and begin flight preparations. Shortly after the crew arrived, he heard the engines start up and the helicopter began to shudder. A few minutes later the chopper lifted off and he hung on as it swayed and bounced and bumped through the air making its fast trek to the north.

The rear cargo ramp was left down for the transit and the noise coming in was deafening, so he cupped his hands over his ears and waited for the helicopter to land at the firebase to off load the ammunition that was crammed in around him on all sides. He could now fully appreciate why Mitch had turned tail for home earlier in the day. There was enough ammo piled in this Chinook to blow a mid-sized city sky high.

~*~

The pilot, John Mitch Mitchell strained his eyes to make out the terrain spinning by below him. Even with his low light gear the terrain was hard to distinguish. Landmarks were few and far between in this country and he didn’t want to miss that firebase. Luckily there had been no firing as yet and he hoped it would stay that way the whole trip.

See anything, Frank? he said into the intercom to his co-pilot.

Nothing yet, but we got to be close. I figure the base to be only about five clicks ahead. Any second now, got to be. There! See it?

Yeah, I got it, but it don’t look right. I’m going to circle around and come in from farther west. What was the last report on the status of this base?

Holding, but not for long, Frank Swent replied.

How long ago?

An hour, maybe less.

We couldn’t raise them on the radio. No recognition flare yet. They had to have heard our rotors by now, but there’s been no signal and no challenge. I’m going around back, get real low, and have a look.

He swung the Chinook around the rear of the compound and then veered sharply off to the north. The veer saved them all as a surface to air missile went screaming off to the right of the helicopter just where it would have been. Mitch jinked the copter hard to the left and nosed the chopper down. Up ahead was a fair-sized clearing and he dropped toward it. This is as far as we go, Boyce, he thought to himself, sorry, but it’s all I can give you. He hovered the helicopter about 15 to 20 feet off of the ground in the center of the clearing, held his breath and said into his intercom, Now, Chief.

What was that, Mitch? Frank said.

Nothing, just talking to myself. Okay let’s get out of here. The VC are waiting for us back at that firebase. The base is overrun. I can feel it. It’s a trap. That SAM came from inside the base perimeter, as he finished he pulled up hard on the cyclic and pointed the chopper due west away from the base, climbing steadily.

~*~

On the ground, his heart racing and the adrenaline flowing, Boyce crawled rapidly but steadily toward the edge of the clearing to burrow under the brush and sort things out. His heart was pounding so hard and so rapidly that he could feel it in his ears. He didn’t feel any pain and decided that he hadn’t twisted anything. He had buckled his knees up under him and rolled with the fall to cushion himself as best as he could. The gear he carried wasn’t extremely heavy so that had helped, but now he had to get to that brush before he was spotted by some Viet Cong investigating why a helicopter had hovered over this clearing.

He could hear the helicopter, but not see it. Almost as soon as he had hit the ground the helicopter had pulled up and out of the clearing and disappeared into the blackness of the night. Barely 15 seconds later, the night came alive and it looked like the whole world was on fire. Flares and rockets were coming from every direction. He froze and turned his head toward where the helicopter should be and now he could clearly see it in the light of the flares. So could the VC and they were putting everything they had into knocking it out of the sky.

He held his breath and wished the helicopter on. A moment later it was high enough and far enough away to be lost in the shadows. The clearing was still brightly lit though, so he stayed frozen in place. He knew that any movement in the light of a flare was easily distinguished. So he held his breath and stayed put.

A few minutes later, that seemed more like an eternity, all of the flares had burned out and he was able to begin again. He hadn’t seen or heard any explosion so he figured Mitch got his chopper out okay. He hoped he had, he didn’t want to have to come back in here to get him out, but he would.

At the edge of the clearing in the underbrush he stopped and lay still. Feeling around he found that his pack, pistol, and knife were all in place. He waited and listened to make sure that no one was around. He wasn’t sure how far north of the base Mitch had dropped him, but he was guessing it wasn’t very far. The chopper hadn’t landed to offload so he figured the base had been taken and the mission aborted. Otherwise, why all of the firing after they dropped me off?

He took his pack off, pulled it around toward his head to use as a pillow. Sweating now even more than he had been back in his hut, he dozed. He didn’t want to sleep, at least not soundly, for fear he would wake up in the middle of a Viet Cong camp, but he did need some rest. He dozed off and on until dawn when he was able to take a good look around him.

He could see the firebase on a knoll above him and thought he saw some movement once or twice, but wasn’t sure. There wasn’t enough activity to confirm the base was in friendly hands. He figured he would see more movement and hear some recognizable sounds if it were still in friendly hands. It was more likely the VC were there, just waiting for some unsuspecting helicopter, like a rattlesnake waiting for a gopher to stick its head up out of its hole.

He stayed quiet until about an hour after sun up and then he eased his way north through the thick, damp, underbrush—very carefully and very quietly. All the while he was listening for the slightest sound and watching for the slightest movement. He had flown over the jungle 100 times in the past few months, driven through it in jeeps and even walked through it a few times behind enemy lines, but never before had he been this far behind enemy lines—alone.

Always in the past, he had been with several others who could lend fire support; and they had a few times, but not this time. If discovered this time there was no hope for him, so he moved easily and silently through the brush.

At mid morning he found a well-concealed place and holed up for a while. He would have liked to have holed up until dark and then traveled at night, but with no moon and without low-light equipment, that would be too dangerous. Better to take it slow and easy during the day so that he could see any trip wires before it was too late.

While he rested he calculated. If I was dropped just past the firebase then I must have about twenty clicks to go to get to the area of the POW camp. That’s a long way, he thought, so I’d better make the best time I can. He was pretty sure that the POW camp was only a temporary holding place and that if Baxter and Sellers were in there they wouldn’t be for long. Soon the VC would move them farther north and he couldn’t follow them there.

He didn’t rest long, he was anxious to be on his way so he crawled and crept for the rest of the day and at nightfall found a good spot to rest. He didn’t sleep soundly. He had not slept soundly all the time he had been in Vietnam, especially not here, not now.

The next morning, just as soon as it was light enough to see, he started out again. He figured he had about ten clicks to go now and with any luck he could reach the POW camp before night fell again.

Once or twice he heard sounds off to either his left or his right and stopped. He was sure that at least one patrol had passed by very near to him, once and he had held his breath for a long time. Possibly, he thought, most of the VC are now south of firebase Zebra toward the DMZ and not concentrating on this side of the firebase. The VC probably figure this area is so far from the DMZ that it is secure—I hope.

After one more long day of crawling and creeping through the damp foliage, just before night fell again, he climbed the last hill for the day. It wasn’t a very high hill, more of a large rise than anything, but it had sufficient elevation to give him a good point of observation and he hoped the VC had not had the same idea. On the north side of the hill he found a good spot to hide and began to study the terrain below him in the day’s fading light. Sure enough, the POW camp was down there, right where he had been told it would be. Well concealed and not very large, maybe 200 yards from end to end with only two crude bamboo huts. Now if I can only figure out if Baxter and Sellers are in there, he thought.

He had decided that he would wait where he was for a day, maybe two, and study the camp, hoping to get a glimpse of either Baxter or Sellers. When it was good and dark, he settled in for more fitful sleep.

The next morning, he watched and waited, not moving except when absolutely necessary and slowly chewing on some energy bars. Occasionally he took a sip of water from one of two canteens. All day he watched and waited, but nothing moved. Nothing at all. Not even a guard was in view.

There were two guard towers of sorts, more just tall stands with some bamboo stuck haphazardly at the top, but they were partially obscured from his vision and he couldn’t be sure if they were manned or not. If manned they didn’t change guards very often and only at night, because he hadn’t seen any movement. He wished he had a star scope, but it would have been too bulky to pack along.

Chapter Two

The next day Boyce continued to watch the camp, chew his energy bars, and sip warm water from his canteen. The stench of the decaying jungle was thick and it mixed with the stench of his own body. He would have loved a shower or just a dip in a creek, but he settled for smearing a dab of his precious warm water on his face. All day he watched and still there was no activity in the camp. A feeling of foreboding began to seep into his consciousness. Something was happening or going to happen he felt sure, but he couldn’t associate the feeling with this mission. Something is wrong, but is it here or somewhere else? He was beginning to think he was too late to help Baxter and Sellers. As he waited, the feeling of foreboding became stronger and stronger and he became more and more uncomfortable.

In order to push from his consciousness the discomfort of that strange feeling, a feeling he had never had with such force before, he concentrated as hard as he could to remember each event leading up to his arrival in Vietnam and finally this rise above this POW camp.

He let his mind travel back over time and he vividly remembered standing in the assembly area of Company A, 1st Battalion, 1st Brigade and staring at the bulletin board. Harder and harder he concentrated and then he was there....

The hot May sun over Fort Gordon, Georgia was making him sweat, but he wasn’t sure if it was the weather or what he was reading that made him sweat the most. The news from Vietnam was fresh in everyone’s minds. Especially the minds of trainees whose odds of being sent there were increasing by the day. This day, however, his odds had run out.

He looked at the alphabetically arranged list of his military police training company and not a name was missing. The roster was a manifest for the next shipment of troops to Vietnam. Boyce Tomlinson was on his way. The Vietnam of the newspapers and television was soon to be reality for him and his comrades. True comrades in arms very shortly.

Not that he didn’t want to go. He had often tried to imagine what it would be like to actually be sent to Vietnam, but reality has a way of shocking even the most avid of dreamers. He was presently suffering the effects of the sudden clash of reality with dreams and it was comparable to the head on collision of two fast moving freight trains.

He wasn’t scared of going to Vietnam—at least he