Brigadier General Seacourt was waiting for the chopper to land, along with half of the Green Berets in the camp. Even though only two Americans had been rescued, the event was a landmark mission. Five of the South Vietnamese in the POW camp were commandos from CCN, and the success of the mission proved that the North Vietnamese system of rotating POWs from camp to camp had failed and that Americans were capable of rescuing their own people. The ill-fated Song Tay raid in the north had totally demoralized the troops; nothing had been spared in support of the operation, and yet it had fallen flat on its face. So the A Rum raid was a sweet victory.
McDonald was the first one off the chopper. He smiled shyly when the men started clapping and whistling. Kirkpatrick took a New York bow and then raised his fist above his head in a victory salute. Arnason tried slipping into the crowd.
Seacourt shook hands with McDonald. He didn’t even try talking above the noise and waved the three-man team over to his jeep. The top had been removed, and the team jumped in the back with the general riding shotgun. The tiger cub in Arnason’s shirt mewed and scratched his stomach when he tried squatting down on the jump seat. Arnason, who had forgotten all about the cub, opened his jacket and removed the young beast, which snarled and spat. The assembled crowd went wild when Arnason held the striped tiger cub up in the air so they all could see it. Seacourt shook his head and smiled. He leaned over and yelled in McDonald’s ear, “Where the hell did you find that?”
McDonald opened his jacket and removed the female cub. “The Recondo School has a new mascot, compliments of the NVA!”
Seacourt had his driver take the team directly to the U.S. Navy hospital where the POWs had been taken. He knew without being asked that McDonald would want to see Barnett.
James lay on the clean hospital sheets and watched the black MP sitting in the chair at the foot of his bed. The knife wound the Montagnard girl had inflicted on him was deep, but it had missed his vital organs. He would heal quickly.
“Hey, brother… how about unlocking this handcuff and let me stretch.”
The MP ignored the wounded soldier.
“Hey, bro!” Mohammed James tried sitting up in the bed. “How about lighting me up a cigarette?”
The black MP continued ignoring James.
“Hey! Motherfucker! Can’t you talk?” James screamed out the words.
The MP left his seat and went over to the side of the bed where James’s arm was handcuffed to the steel frame. He looked at the smiling soldier and without warning slapped his face. “You shut the fuck up… hear?”
“Man! Why did you do that?” James rubbed his stinging cheek. “Us black brothers have got to stick together!”
“Listen good! ‘Cause I’m only going to say this one time!” The black MP poked his finger against James’s bandaged chest. “The only reason I don’t blow your black ass away is because every decent black soldier in Vietnam is waiting to see your ass shot in front of a firing squad!” The look on the MP’s face scared James. The MP started turning away from the traitor. “You’ve set our people back a hundred years! Maybe you don’t know it yet, but your picture has been posted in every MP station, PX, company orderly room, and bar in Vietnam!” The MP removed his .45-caliber pistol and cocked the hammer as he pointed it between James’s eyes. “So don’t you say another damn word to me about being brothers.”
Seacourt walked next to McDonald as they followed the doctor down the hallway to the room where Barnett and Colonel Garibaldi were being treated.
“I talked with both of them yesterday for a little while….” Seacourt reached over and grabbed McDonald’s elbow to slow him down so that he could brief him before they entered the room. “I want you to know that Colonel Garibaldi—he’s the other POW with Barnett—has recommended Barnett for the Medal of Honor….” Seacourt paused to let the impact of what he said sink in. “And from just the few things Garibaldi has told me, there won’t be a problem. I’m personally going to sign and hand-carry the paperwork to the MACV commanding general and then take it to the Pentagon. If there is one person who has performed above and beyond the call of duty, it’s that teenager in there!”
McDonald felt tears of extreme pride well up in his eyes. He stopped outside the door and rubbed away the tears; the last thing he needed was to have Barnett see him crying like some pussy-assed baby.
A smile popped on Barnett’s face the instant he saw McDonald step through the door. “Hello, Sergeant McDonald!”
Spencer lay naked on the hospital bed, with only a sheet pulled up to his waist. McDonald could see the red welts covering the soldier’s body and the thin ribs showing under his skin. Barnett was emaciated. Jungle ulcers covered half of his chest and right arm.
McDonald swallowed hard. At least the boy was still alive, but from the way he looked, he wouldn’t have lasted another week in that camp.
“Can’t you talk?” Barnett frowned.
Colonel Garibaldi lay with an IV in his arm, smiling at the three members of his rescue team. He nodded his head and weakly whispered, “Thanks…”
McDonald’s eyes left Barnett and went to the colonel. He nodded his head, afraid to risk saying anything. There was too much emotion ready to break loose inside of him.
“Sarge! Can’t you talk?” Barnett smiled.
McDonald took two quick steps and closed the distance between them. He reached over and hugged Barnett. “I couldn’t lose you, kid.”
Barnett’s smile turned into a wide grin. “Look at this shit! This is disgusting! A master sergeant in the United States Army, hugging me!” Barnett loved it.
The other occupants in the room felt lumps creeping up in their throats. General Seacourt coughed and tried breaking the emotional tension. “You could get court-martialed for that, Sergeant!”
Everyone started laughing and the tension broke. The tiger cub was being squashed and growled her anger.
“What was that?” Barnett looked down at McDonald’s jacket and saw the movement.
“A friend.” He removed the cub and set her down on Barnett’s sheet. She moved her head weakly from side to side. One of the nurses who had been watching stepped forward and picked the cub up to check her eyes.
“She’s a preemie….”
“Yes… and so is her brother.” Arnason removed the male.
“Two!” A nurse who had just entered the room shook her head. “We’ve got an incubator in the back…”—she looked over at the hospital commander, who was standing next to General Seacourt, and the doctor nodded his approval—”that we can use. That is, if you want me to try and save them.”
Barnett looked hard at the nurse. “Don’t I know you from somewhere?”
“No… I don’t think we’ve ever met…. My name is Natasha MacReal.”
“Oh… I thought we had met…. You’re a good-looking woman….” Barnett smiled.
“Well, I can see he’s getting better already!” The doctor frowned and waved a finger at the young soldier as the nurse left the room carrying a wiggling tiger cub under each arm.
Barnett turned his attention back to his teammates. “What are you going to name them?”
Arnason shook his head slowly and then spoke. “How about… Barnett? We’re going to build a cage in front of the recon company’s orderly room for him.”
“Cool!” Barnett liked the idea. “What about the female?” He looked at McDonald.
“I’ve already decided on a real good name… Spencer.”
“Spencer!” Bamett feigned outrage and raised himself on one elbow. “Sarge! You ain’t going to name no damn female Spencer!”
McDonald looked back at the men in the room. “It has a good ring to it… Spencer… doesn’t it?”
The occupants all nodded their heads in agreement.
“Then Spencer it is!”
“Come on, Sarge! Give me a break!”
Arnason laid his hand on McDonald’s shoulder. “You know, that does have a good sound to it. If the cubs are ever visiting each oth
er, you can say, ’Spencer Barnett!’ and they’ll both come to you.”
“I really can’t believe all of this shit!” Barnett loved all the attention he was getting. He dropped his head back down on the pillow and looked up at the ceiling. The tears bubbled up out of his eyes. “I can’t believe this shit….” The emotional dam broke.
The doctor nodded his head toward the door, letting the visitors know that it was time for them to leave.
“Spencer…” Brigadier General Seacourt removed the CAR-15 submachine gun he had been carrying over his shoulder. The familiar weapon hadn’t drawn any attention until then. “Lieutenant Reed asked me if I would drop this off with you…. He said that it was yours.” The general had no idea what the weapon meant to Barnett. “He said that you might want it back.”
Barnett blinked his eyes and saw his weapon in the general’s hand. “Tell… tell the lieutenant… thanks a lot.” He had barely spoken the last word when his throat refused to allow any more words to pass. He buried his face in his pillow and sobbed quietly.
Colonel Garibaldi rubbed the small bamboo cross that he had brought with him out of A Rum and watched the soldiers leave. He had never lost faith.
They were free.
Dear Mom and Dad,
Sorry I haven’t written for so long, but when the Army decides to make you busy, there’s not much time for anything else.
It’s a real sense of accomplishment when a group of guys can pull together and make something really work. (Sorry I can’t go into details, but you know how things are with military security and all.) It gives you a sense of pride like you really matter.
Thanks for the cookies. I shared them with Spencer Barnett. I’m real glad he’s back with our outfit again.
Love,
THE WAR
WITHIN A WAR…
Barnett is seventeen, a corporal, and a P.O.W. in the hands of a savage NVA commander—along with an Air Force colonel and a traitorous G.I. who gets off on torturing fellow American prisoners. From Saigon to Washington the reports have been passed back and forth of the living hell in Laos—and of the need for the most dangerous kind of mission of the war. But for a prisoner snatch to succeed, Special Forces must strike with maximum preparation, firepower, and surprise—and time is running out. For Barnett to stay alive long enough to be freed will take more courage than a man should ever need…
From the heartland of America to the heart of war, they were the friends, the enemies, and the true heroes of the place called “NAM.”
P.O.W.
SURVIVOR OF NAM #2
An Authentic New Series on the War
About the author: A former Green Beret, Donald E. Zlotnik fought with Command and Control North, a Special Operations Group, and saw combat action throughout Southeast Asia, including the battles of Dak-To, Khesanh, and the Plain of Reeds.
P. O. W. Page 19
