The Worth of Souls: Abomination of Sex Slaves in Southeast Asia

By T. Martin O’Neil

The inky, black room and the horrible smells left little doubt this was a dungeon; a wretched hell intended to defeat the spirit and humanity of those it confined. The occupants were children, thrust into the hell they now faced through no act of their own, but by the depraved and morally bankrupt men and women who sold their lives and young bodies to fulfill their own greed. The door cracked open ever so slightly. Into the blackness, a wretch of a man crept. The dim, back-light of the outside hallway showed his skinny, almost bald figure as if it were in a spotlight. His torn, ragged clothes hung on a dirty, pox-scarred body. The rope holding up his bloomer-like pants was untied. His almost toothless, evil grin screamed his intentions. Each child shrank in fear from the sight before them. What had they ever done to deserve this nightmare? Did God hate them this much? Their fears were not sanctioned by governments, but by a depraved humanity. Members of SEAL Team One quietly entered the building after eliminating the feeble resistance of a few untrained guards. If discovered, it meant the SEALS caused all out war between two nations not yet at war for this was an armed invasion. These are the human stories; stories of the love of fellow man. Stories not found in the hate spewing news. Stories instead revealed from downgraded, classified files and told here in The Worth of Souls.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Publication Consultants
• Release date: Jan 10, 2018
• ISBN: 9781594337680

T. Martin O’Neil

T. Martin O'Neil, a former enlisted man and officer, is a thirty-five-year veteran of Naval Intelligence. He draws from a wealth of real-life experiences to introduce a fictional character that did real-life things. The operations he was part of actually happened. His life continues to reflect his commitment of service to his country as he is part of a network of intelligence operatives located around the world that “mine the web” for information that can assist our nation's military and national interests alike. He provides continuity and analysis of these findings. Due to the sensitive nature of these things, he continues to provide information under a covert nom de plume. Marty, to his friends, lives with his wife in Alaska where he loves the outdoor life and often can be found enjoying snow machining, hunting and fishing.

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Zulu."

Prologue

The Second Vietnam War was drawing to a close. The United States proclaimed a new policy that required a significant draw-down of U.S. troops operating in the country of South Vietnam. This draw-down meant the turnover of millions of dollars worth of equipment, arms and ammunition to the Republic of South Vietnam.

President Richard M. Nixon declared that if the South Vietnamese were to be an independent nation, they needed to stand on their own against communist oppression. We as a nation would supply war materials and financial aid to prop them up. However, after more than 10 years of the United States providing the manpower to stop the communists, the South Vietnamese needed to assume more of the combat role. Thus, Vietnamization was born.

Continuing to operate until the end of the war, special operations groups such as the U.S. Navy SEALS provided assistance to the South Vietnamese. These men trained South Vietnamese operators to take their places; good, honest men.

There were other assignments that never made the leftist press reports because it did not vilify the military. Instead it raised the hopes of true patriots around the world. These assignments are typified in this volume.

Child kidnapping and human trafficking is one of the lowest forms of hatred and cowardess against humanity. It has existed for millennia and debases the entire species of mankind. While counter human trafficking operations are described here, this was by no means the end of such activities. Still to this day, special operations groups fight this scourge of mankind. Words cannot describe the lowest of humans that perpetrate this practice. The problem is, it won’t go away until the demands dry up; demands for sex slaves as well as indentured servants.

Regardless of the society that participates in and perpetrates this wretched practice, it is evil and wrong. Slavery, whether for indenture or for sexual reasons, is evil, base, cowardly and degrading to the perpetrator and recipient alike. There is absolutely no honor in this practice. Attacking children is hardly manly or honorable. Those that practice this are lice on the rear-ends of the lowest slime on earth.

Hopefully, this book will spark some recognition and realization that a society that claims it is free but encourages slavery through its demands for pornography, sexual deviation and servitude is wrong on so many levels. It is base, dishonorable and cowardly.

Chapter 1

The Captives Come

Rebecca Ann Austin

This stuff smells like sssh…… came the quiet, disgusted hiss.

You jackass. I told you to leave the bag closed and not to open it up until I tell you! Stan’s low, disgusted reply came back even stronger.

Both men stood in the shadows of the building awaiting their prey – a young 9-year old girl named Rebecca Ann Austin. They’d never seen the girl, but figured she’d be one of the last ones around when no one came to pick her up.

Becky was leaving from a school play practice where she was a carrot in a Thanksgiving pageant that would be performed the next Tuesday evening for parents, grandparents and siblings. The fourth grade at Horace Mann Elementary School in Toledo, Ohio was known for its well-rehearsed and polished programs. This was shaping up to be another of the great ones.

Normally, parents would have provided rides for children leaving after dark, but due to the hospital changing Becky’s mom’s work schedule, her uncle Henry promised to pick her up. He timed everything early so he could stop over at Morty’s for a quick one. His one became two and his whining got louder. A couple of new-found friends promised to go get her and bring her back to him there at Morty’s. In fact, they even bought him three rounds to keep him company; great guys. The last round had a slight addition, however. That drink would keep him face-down and busy all night long.

As the crowd began to thin outside the school gym, it appeared apparent which child was Becky. Stan casually walked over to Becky and quietly stated that her uncle Henry asked him to pick her up since he was tied up over at work. He said her mom was over at the hospital. Becky could call her mother to verify this over at the pay phone by his car. That way she would be more comfortable about going with them. She agreed and walked over to his car.

Tony waited at the car and when she reached the shadows, took the rag soaked in chloroform from the bag and forced it to her nose and mouth. He held it firmly against her face. Her muffled screams quickly subsided. They forced a wadded, dirty rag into her mouth, tied her hands and feet and placed her into the trunk of the car.

Slowly they exited the parking lot so as not to arouse any suspicions from the thinning parents, teachers and students. They drove over to Lasky Road, turned left and headed west out of town.

When do you figure they’ll miss her? Tony was the first to speak.

Judging from the way that boozer of an uncle was putting the sauce away, probably not ‘til tomorrow when he sleeps it off, Stan replied. Besides, that extra mickey will also keep him out cold.

They turned north and headed for Michigan. Over the state line, they then headed northwest. They drove all night until first light Friday morning. Their destination was Jonesville, Michigan. Becky continued to sleep.

At the Jonesville Ford dealer, a semi-truck sat with its rear doors open and vehicle ramps set up. Stan pulled the car into the van. There were two other cars already in the semi trailer. The ramps were then loaded, the doors closed, locked and sealed.

By 0700 the truck was on the highway. Stan and Tony went to the local diner for breakfast. They were famished. The $10-grand split down the middle meant both could enjoy their country breakfast in style.

Silha Paranga

Silha’s family lived near Ayutthaya, Thailand. Her family moved there two years before from the rural areas of northwestern Burma. They’d been forced to go somewhere, anywhere, to find work. There were 6 children in her family. Each day, the children would start their day never knowing where they were going to get their meals.

Both parents worked in a clothing manufacturing sweat shop. Silha could not remember when they had ever had time together as a family much less time to create her 4 brothers and sister. Each day Silha left their hovel of a house and walked into the town center. She would loiter behind the restaurants behind the battered, smelly garbage cans and dumpsters. She and her sister moved from one can to another, their plain cotton clothes, literally rags now, barely covering what would be considered decent. As an enterprising 10-year old, she would soon be working at her mother or father’s sweatshop when a position became available. It might mean her daily trips to the garbage cans with her youngest brother and sister might be coming to an end.

Then, one morning her mother came to her and said she needed Silha to come with both her and her father to meet a man. This man would be interviewing her for a job. Silha became extremely excited. The meeting place was on the east side of Ayutthaya. There were no stores or restaurants here, but the houses did look a lot nicer than where the Paranga family lived.

Her mind thought of all the great things she could do to help her family, but the best thing was that she would no longer have to eat out of garbage cans, or give her findings to her younger brothers or sister.

The man seemed nice enough. He had nice clothes and a quiet way. He spoke of many others he had helped. He told the three that it would not be long and they could all live in a nice house too. He told them they would have nice clothes and lots to eat.

Then he asked Silha to stand and slowly turn around. Silha did as she was told. Her mother started to tremble with inward cries. The man watched and a strange look came over him. His eyes narrowed ever so much and his smile clearly showed he recognized a young woman just starting to bud.

Silha felt very self-conscious. She caught sight of her mother and looked away. She became defiant. She would never eat from a garbage can again. It didn’t matter how much her mother cried. She would never do it again.

The man caught the very noticeable non-verbal exchange between mother and daughter and smiled inwardly. He then became very serious.

She has had no man? he asked no one in particular.

Most definitely not! The response from her father was much sharper than he expected. Please excuse my voice. As I told you, she is only 10. She is but a girl.

A dismissing wave of his hand said that was all he wanted to hear on the subject. It only mattered that she was a virgin and young. He would take care of the rest of her training. Again, he smiled inwardly with a lascivious grin.

There is much she must learn. It involves much time on my part and much expense. I will give you 2000 baht for her.

Her father stared, his mouth open. But, you promised 4000 baht.

That was before I saw her. She must be clothed and taught how to serve. This will take much time and effort not to mention her food and board, the human flesh dealer articulated as if to dispel any misunderstanding about the poor deal he claimed he would get.

Again, her mother began to quietly sob. She turned away from the evil man and did her best to keep quiet.

After a few moments, the flesh monger took a conciliatory tone and then offered his revised thoughts. Alright, you can see I am in a very tight bind. I promised a very wealthy family a servant girl by sundown today and now you are trying to hold me up and rob me. I’ll give you 2100 baht, and not a satang more.

Silha’s father looked first at the evil flesh peddler, then at Silha and finally at the tear-stained face of his wife. Disappointment spread across his face and indeed even in his posture. His shoulders slumped and his voice seemed to catch. Alright.

The transaction completed, Silha left with the man. She initially thought he was nice, but would now learn he could be both manipulative and cruel.

Silha was led to a Toyota van. Once inside, the man offered Silha a jar of sweet-smelling liquid. He commanded her to drink. He did not want a sick child on his hands. She drained the sweet-tasting liquid. Soon, she felt very tired and sleepy.

Julie Sue DiMarco

Julie Sue lived in the suburbs of Ft Worth, Texas, and was as open as the wide-open land she lived in. Music was everything in Julie Sue’s life. Everything had a beat. Everything had movement. Everything had rhythm. Everything had life. Julie Sue felt part of all things in life around her; the consummate optimist.

She started dancing as soon as she could stand. Her parents were totally impressed with her love of movement. She had natural grace. She seemed to flow with all the sounds of life. She had joie de vie; literally a love of life.

Her father was newly elected U.S. Congressman Robert L. DiMarco of the Fourth Congressional District. They were getting ready for a move to Bethesda, MD.

Her school, Wright Elementary School in Ft. Worth, Texas, had chosen to give her the Student of the Year award, as a fourth grader. The award, normally awarded to fifth graders, caused a significant stir among the older class members and their parents. Her Principle, Mary Drew, just couldn’t say enough good about her and agreed to take the heat for the slight to the older children.

Still, Julie Sue was loved by all, her parents, her peer classmates and all she encountered. To express that love she was constantly on the move. She acted out and performed everywhere. Even eating lunch at school was a joy to her.

Her fellow students, some jealous of her verve, would tease her, but this meant nothing to her. She said that kids were so mean and childish anyway. She didn’t care. She forgave their pettiness.

She was the eternal optimist. Where some saw a pile of dog manure, Julie Sue saw a puppy somewhere nearby. Her parents worried that she was in for a great let-down as she grew older.

At the ripe old age of 9-1/2, Julie Sue still had not demonstrated any kind of feelings of hatred. She just would forgive honestly and quickly. She danced and sang through even the hardest assignments in school and through the hardest chores at home. Everyone wanted to be around her because she always seemed so upbeat and cheerful; always with a twinkle in her eye and a smile. It seemed infectious. Every one of her teachers wanted to just wrap her up and take her home.

Several days after the school assembly where she was given the Student of the Year Award, Julie Sue was walking home with two of her girlfriends. They were totally oblivious to the idling van parked a block from Julie Sue’s home. The decals on the van identified it as a utility van from the Bell Telephone Company.

Truth be told, the van had been stolen from the telephone company only an hour before. The two occupants had staked out the company’s motor pool yard and watched carefully for a van that had just returned at shift change. In theory that would mean no one would miss it for at least 8 hours. Since the keys were in the van, it was just begging to go for a ride.

Now the two men sat quietly watching the girls. They had their choice of the group. Yes, Slim had told them to get some young girls. He’d offered the two kidnappers $5,000 for each child. They watched the three girls and thought they might as well go for broke and grab all three.

Slowly the van inched forward. Darrel had already moved to the back. He had the shipping tape ready and a rag for each of the three.

Arriving alongside, Darrel threw the door open suddenly, leaped out and grabbed the first two girls. The other girl froze and just as she started to scream, he grabbed her too. He threw all of them into the van where Sal stuffed rags into their mouths and covered the rags with tape. After slamming the side door closed, both men quickly taped their hands and legs.

Next it was off to the rendezvous with Slim. In their minds, they were already counting and spending the $15 Grand.

Lumelyn Estagoy

The small hamlet of Lauag just outside of Paete, Luzon, Philippines, was so quiet. Seems like nothing ever happened here. Nine-year-old Lumelyn walked through the jungle palm trees toward the village store. She could have done this in her sleep, she’d done it so many times before.

Her mother sent her to get some rice wrappers. She was going to make lumpia and didn’t want to make the wrappers herself. For Lumelyn, this was only the best food treat ever.

The store owner helped her with her purchase and watched as she skipped off down the path toward her home. Two other sets of eyes watched as she skipped along. Both men were Muslim pirates from the island of Mindanao. They watched her closely. She would be perfect, the right height, shape and face that their leader wanted.

That leader had been promised by the Imam that if they raided the infidel villages north and brought him young girls, they would be rewarded from on high as was Mohammad the Prophet. Daafi and Jabar also took that reward seriously. Anything the Imam said surely came from Allah. They believed it fervently.

They gauged their position on the path so that as she came through a large stand of broad-leafed banana plants, she would be out of sight of the road or any houses. Quietly they waited and watched. Daafi stepped out and smiled at Lumelyn. It is a beautiful day for a walk in the jungle, he started the conversation. He talked soothingly so as not to frighten her.

As she started to reply, her mouth poised to speak, Jabar came from behind her and quickly clasped his left hand around her mouth. She tried to scream, but Jabar’s hand held her mouth firmly. She tried to bite him and here she struck pay-dirt. He recoiled from the pain of the bite. Blood quickly flowed from the injury.

Lumelyn tried to get a deep enough breath to scream, but Daafi was too quick and clamped his dirty left hand on her mouth. She tasted the filth. She wanted to throw up and gagged despite her will not to.

Daafi observed the Koran strictly and was right-handed. That meant his left hand was used for cleaning himself and smelled like it too. Washing hands didn’t rate a very high priority in the man’s mind. Certainly, cleanliness was not next to godliness.

Lumelyn struggled and kicked, but her bare feet could not match the strength of the two men. Blood dripping down his arm, Jabar clasped her legs tightly and lifted her up. They withdrew a length of cord from their pocket. Quickly they tied her ankles and then her hands. A filthy rag was stuffed in her mouth and held in place with another bandanna type rag. The taste of Daafi’s hand and the filth of the rag almost involuntarily expelled the rag as she retched.

Their dual outrigger pump boat lay beached well up on the shore, almost to the jungle. The large fishing net in the middle of the boat would easily cover the girl once they left the lagoon. They would appear to just be two fishermen with a large net heading out to continue their success. Lumelyn’s struggles would only appear to confirm a successful catch.

Jabar quietly directed Lumelyn to shut up or they would cut her up and make shark bait of her. Still struggling, she seemed to ignore him until he slapped her hard. So hard in fact that she saw stars and became disoriented.