his feet were raw, and his arches were so bruised that it would be weeks before he could walk without
limping. The blows James had given him across his testicles had caused both genital glands to swell to triple their normal
size. His scrotum had been cut and oozed a mixture of blood and other body fluid. There would be scars on Spencer’s buttocks
when the deep cuts finally healed… if he lived.
Colonel Garibaldi kept eyeing Barnett’s cage every time he had a chance to pass it or work near the cages. The guards had
been instructed to forbid him to administer to the teenager’s wounds until after their supper meal, and then they would allow
him to stay with him in the cage for only a half-hour. Garibaldi spent the day gathering anything that he might be able to
use on Spencer: pieces of cloth for bandages, sticks for splints. He even begged a small bottle of liquid Chinese aspirin
off one of the older guards.
The small Montagnard boy reached through the bamboo bars and lifted Spencer’s head just enough to pour the thick monkey meat
stew down his throat. The effect of the high-protein food was almost immediate on the starving man. Barnett’s eyes fluttered,
and his mouth kept moving like that of a small baby when its bottle was removed before it had finished nursing. The boy looked
constantly around the cage for any approaching guards. He then pulled a dirty Vietnamese perfume bottle out of his loincloth
waistband. He looked back across the pungi stake barrier and saw that his grandfather was watching from the porch. The opium-brewed
pain reliever burned and tasted bitter against Spencer’s tongue, but the numbing effect of the powerful drug was almost immediate.
Spencer felt a hand tugging at the drawstring of his black peasant pants and a sharp pain as the trousers were tugged down,
breaking the scabs of his wounds that had dried against the material. The boy worked swiftly, rubbing the salve deep into
all of Spencer’s wounds. An old Montagnard woman had made the opium-based ointment by boiling the sap down and mixing it with
animal fat and jungle plants. The ointment did a number of things to the wounds that enabled Spencer to fall asleep.
The Bru chieftain’s grandson slipped the empty perfume bottle back into his waistband and dropped down in the shadows next
to Barnett’s cage. He was taking a great risk and knew the guard would kill him without question if he was caught near the
American soldier, but his grandfather’s orders were to be obeyed without fear. The Ae Die liked good deeds, and his grandfather
was a close friend of the mountain spirit. He would be protected from evil.
Colonel Garibaldi was shocked to see Spencer awake when he returned from his work detail. He had feared all day long that
he would be burying the young soldier when he returned.
Barnett tried smiling, but failed. “Are you working half-days now, Colonel?”
The older man grabbed the bamboo bars and pressed his face up against the smooth fibers. “How are you feeling?” Garibaldi
blinked back the tears. Spencer looked so helpless lying on his stomach. “I was a little worried about you this morning.”
“I’m a little buzzed….”
“What?” Garibaldi became alarmed.
“One of the Montagnard kids brought me a little jug of what I think was dope. It sure has stopped the pain…. And then he rubbed
some greasy stuff all over my ass…” Spencer wasn’t ashamed and continued talking, “and nuts…. Whatever it was, it works. The
pain is gone.”
Colonel Garibaldi could see that Spencer’s eyes weren’t focusing like they should and figured the Montagnards had drugged
the young soldier so that he could rest and start healing. The risks that they took in approaching the American POW cages
in bright daylight were tremendous. The colonel turned around slowly, knowing that the guard was watching him, and looked
across the pungi stake clearing to where an old
limping. The blows James had given him across his testicles had caused both genital glands to swell to triple their normal
size. His scrotum had been cut and oozed a mixture of blood and other body fluid. There would be scars on Spencer’s buttocks
when the deep cuts finally healed… if he lived.
Colonel Garibaldi kept eyeing Barnett’s cage every time he had a chance to pass it or work near the cages. The guards had
been instructed to forbid him to administer to the teenager’s wounds until after their supper meal, and then they would allow
him to stay with him in the cage for only a half-hour. Garibaldi spent the day gathering anything that he might be able to
use on Spencer: pieces of cloth for bandages, sticks for splints. He even begged a small bottle of liquid Chinese aspirin
off one of the older guards.
The small Montagnard boy reached through the bamboo bars and lifted Spencer’s head just enough to pour the thick monkey meat
stew down his throat. The effect of the high-protein food was almost immediate on the starving man. Barnett’s eyes fluttered,
and his mouth kept moving like that of a small baby when its bottle was removed before it had finished nursing. The boy looked
constantly around the cage for any approaching guards. He then pulled a dirty Vietnamese perfume bottle out of his loincloth
waistband. He looked back across the pungi stake barrier and saw that his grandfather was watching from the porch. The opium-brewed
pain reliever burned and tasted bitter against Spencer’s tongue, but the numbing effect of the powerful drug was almost immediate.
Spencer felt a hand tugging at the drawstring of his black peasant pants and a sharp pain as the trousers were tugged down,
breaking the scabs of his wounds that had dried against the material. The boy worked swiftly, rubbing the salve deep into
all of Spencer’s wounds. An old Montagnard woman had made the opium-based ointment by boiling the sap down and mixing it with
animal fat and jungle plants. The ointment did a number of things to the wounds that enabled Spencer to fall asleep.
The Bru chieftain’s grandson slipped the empty perfume bottle back into his waistband and dropped down in the shadows next
to Barnett’s cage. He was taking a great risk and knew the guard would kill him without question if he was caught near the
American soldier, but his grandfather’s orders were to be obeyed without fear. The Ae Die liked good deeds, and his grandfather
was a close friend of the mountain spirit. He would be protected from evil.
Colonel Garibaldi was shocked to see Spencer awake when he returned from his work detail. He had feared all day long that
he would be burying the young soldier when he returned.
Barnett tried smiling, but failed. “Are you working half-days now, Colonel?”
The older man grabbed the bamboo bars and pressed his face up against the smooth fibers. “How are you feeling?” Garibaldi
blinked back the tears. Spencer looked so helpless lying on his stomach. “I was a little worried about you this morning.”
“I’m a little buzzed….”
“What?” Garibaldi became alarmed.
“One of the Montagnard kids brought me a little jug of what I think was dope. It sure has stopped the pain…. And then he rubbed
some greasy stuff all over my ass…” Spencer wasn’t ashamed and continued talking, “and nuts…. Whatever it was, it works. The
pain is gone.”
Colonel Garibaldi could see that Spencer’s eyes weren’t focusing like they should and figured the Montagnards had drugged
the young soldier so that he could rest and start healing. The risks that they took in approaching the American POW cages
in bright daylight were tremendous. The colonel turned around slowly, knowing that the guard was watching him, and looked
across the pungi stake clearing to where an old
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