Note to the readers the tortures described in the next few chapters are authentic and were used extensively on POWs during the Vietnam war.

Chapter 10

'Starsky, David Michael. Corporal 231-51-3155. United States Army'.

Defiant eyes shone straight ahead as the curly haired soldier tried hard to keep the fear from his voice.

They had been marched though the jungle at a punishing pace as the seven Vietcong guerillas kept their tarnished, old fashioned, but still deadly rifles trained on the three men. They'd been relieved of their own weapons and now had their hands laced behind their heads, making walking even more difficult and exhausting. The guerillas knew where they were going well enough, but it seemed to the terrified men that they were being marched round and round in circles. The rain poured down as they squelched along in their boots which were already drenched from their walk through the river.

Eventually, they were brought to a ragged halt at the edge of an opening in which there were various tents, wooden nissen huts and some animal cages arranged around a central open space. There was a large concrete building at the back, stretching back and filling almost all of the large clearing and in the distance they could see more of the cages. The place had been cleared of trees and now, as the sun shone down again, the soldier's clothes steamed in the heat.

Starsky bent down to suck in his breath, but was forced upright by harsh words and the butt of a rifle being brought down forcefully on the back of his neck. He yelped and cursed but straightened, leaving his hands still on his head. They were pushed forward and directed to a larger tent in the very centre of the compound.

So this was Nah Am. Not exactly the paradise that Starsky had imagined and as he took a second to look around him, he realised that one or two of the cages that he'd thought were for animals were in fact inhabited by naked men, their bodies thin and wasted and covered in sores and dirt. He shuddered and swallowed down the nausea and fear as he was pushed into the tent.

At the far end of the canvassed enclosure there sat a small, monkey faced little man wearing the Vietnamese army uniform and peaked cap. He looked up as the three men were pushed to the front of his desk and listened as their captors rattled off a string of sentences during which he nodded

'Dung, dung, lOi ich'.

He looked at the prisoners and said in heavily accented, though understandable English. 'Who is in command?'

'That'd be me' Starsky said as confidently as he could.

'And you are?'

'Starsky. Corporal. 231-51-3155. United States Army'.

'Prettily said Corporal. Just what you Americans are taught to say, yes?'

Starsky, Tugs and Merry stared back defiantly but remained quiet.

'I'm General Mai. You will get to know me quite well, I think. What was your mission?' His voice was low and silky smooth with an ominous evil quality.

Starsky snorted. He too had the sickening feeling they would get to know Mai and his goons. 'Starsky, David Michael. Corporal 231-51-3155. United States Army'.

'You will become as tired of telling me that as I will become of hearing it. Maybe tomorrow your discomfort will have argued with you long enough for you to answer me'. He looked over the American's shoulder.

"Tên anh là gì? đợt bay, phi vụ"

The soldiers behind them took hold of each man by the arms, forcing their hands behind and up until their wrists were level with their shoulder blades. Thus incapacitated, they were pushed out of the tent and towards the wooden nissen hut. Inside, their escort let them go and they stood still, waiting.

The hut was small, separated into much smaller rooms by stout wooden walls and now one of the soldiers opened a door to the first pen. It was no more than 8 feet square with no furniture, no toilet, nothing. The soldier mimed them taking off their clothes and Starsky shook his head vigorously.

'Never on a first date' he said to cover his fear. He was going to hang on to as many of his belongings as he could for as long as he could.

Without warning, two of the soldiers took hold of him, pulling his arms behind his back and holding him steady as the third rammed the butt of his rifle into the brunet's stomach. He gasped, bending over and strings of silvery saliva strung from his lips to drop in wet beads to the ground. Tugs sprang forward to help Starsky but the guard turned on him and smashed the rifle into his face. Tugs screamed and his hands flew to his broken nose, trying to stem the blood that coursed down his face to drip from his chin. There was a general noise and an air of confusion as the three soldiers struggled and shouted.

'Leave him alone ya yellow bastards' Starsky grunted as the rifle landed on the back of his neck. The blow caught at his exposed nerves and as suddenly as the rifle descended, the brunet's world winked out.

How much later, he didn't know, Starsky awoke to dark and the stench of sweat and the warmth of human bodies that were too close to him. He pushed the closest one away, his eyes still closed against the sickening headache, but someone caught hold of his wrist and held it.

'Hey Curly, easy now' a familiar voice hissed.

The brunet forced open his eyes and looked up into Merry's face. He grunted and tried to sit up, but the soldier put a hand on his shoulder, forcing him to remain on his back.

'There aint too much room in here. Just lie easy a minute an' come around some more'.

'Al? Whadappened?' he asked, his voice thick and unsure.

'You met the business end of the rifle'.

'Oh yeah! How's Tugs?'

'Been better. He aint gonna win a beauty pageant any time soon, but he'll make it' Merry leaned to one side and Starsky could see the third soldier sitting propped in a corner, his head back as he tried to stop the ruby droplets still dripping from his smashed nose.

Forcing himself to sit upright, the brunet looked around him. They'd all been stripped of most of their uniforms although mercifully they'd been allowed to retain their boxers and vests. They were being held in the same tiny wooden room that he'd seen before the world winked out, but with three of them in there, they'd been reduced to one lying, one sitting with knees drawn up and one standing or kneeling. There was no window and no ventilation and the only light came from a single overhead light embedded in the ceiling giving a harsh white light that flickered continually on and off.

'How long was I out?' Starsky asked.

Merry blew out his cheeks. 'Tough to say. Probably a couple'a hours. We were getting a bit worried. You were well and truly out cold! How're ya doin?'

The brunet checked himself over. Lifting his vest to reveal a red and blue bruise across his midriff. He prodded it, winced and decided against conducting the experiment a second time. 'I'm good. I'll survive. You?'

'They haven't laid a finger on me yet. Guess I got that pleasure to come huh?' Merry laughed nervously.

'Hey, we're all shit scared. But we're gonna get outa here, ya got that?' Starsky said seriously. He was 19. He was in command and now it was his responsibility to make sure his men were ok.

Merry looked skeptical. 'Did you see those fuckin' cages? How long d'ya think those guys have been sayin' that?'

'I said we'll get outa here. An' I mean it'. Starsky gave a lop sided grin. 'Hey, have I ever lied?'

Merry snorted. 'There's always a fi….'

His words were cut off as the door was yanked open and a guard stepped inside, grabbing Starsky firmly by the arm. He tugged and said something unintelligible.

'Hey where're ya takin' him?' Merry shouted as Tugs tried to get himself to his feet. A rifle was pointed at them and Starsky held up his hand.

'S'ok guys. Me an' the nice soldier are gonna take a little walk, that's all. Be right back' he grinned to cover up the sheer terror he felt.

'You take care' Merry said quietly.

'Don't go anywhere' the brunet grunted as the soldier pulled him out of the tiny room. He was marched back through the compound in the growing gloom to the tent where he'd first met General Mai. Ushered inside, the soldier at his back stood him in front of the desk as the General looked up. Starsky hoped the small man couldn't see the nervous shake in his legs or hands. He balled them into fists to keep himself still.

'Do you have anything to tell me?' he asked pleasantly.

'David Michael Starsky. Corporal. 231-51-3155. United States Army'. He stood at attention, his eyes never wavering from a spot above the General's head.

'Corporal, I'm a patient man, but there comes a time when I need answers. Do we have to start causing you pain? It would be so much easier if you would just tell me why you were sent here. Your American Government doesn't care about you. Do you think there is anyone in the White House who even knows that you exist? Just tell me why you're here and you can be on your way'.

'Corporal David Michael Starsky. 231-51-3155. United Sta…….'.

The General cut him off with rapid fire commands and Starsky felt hands holding him still. His clothes were ripped from him and he was pushed down until he was sitting on a hard wooden chair.

He felt his heart rate hike up several notches and he tried to stop his body from trembling, but the fear ate at him and he looked at the ground desperate not to let these bastards see how terrified he was.

'Trung uý'

Ropes circled his wrists and ankles, lacing him to the chair and another loop was passed around his chest. He fought against the bonds with all his might, but they were strong, the rough hemp rope digging into his flesh. He yelled out as he saw the big generator brought into the room and the soldiers set about impassively attaching electrodes to his chest, his back above his kidneys and between his splayed legs to clamp on his scrotum. There was even one attached to each earlobe. He struggled again, breathless with exertion as he watched the general switch on the generator, his hand hovering over the handle.

What would it feel like? He'd heard stories of excruciating pain, but was that right? What sort of pain would it be? He'd always been able to cope quite well when he'd broken a limb, or come off worse in a fight. Would he cope with this? His dog tags rattles against his chest betraying his shivering body.

'Why were you sent here?'

'David Michael Stars…….arrrgh' he screamed as the electricity coursed through his body. It took his breath away, his lungs spasming until he thought his eyeballs would fall from his head. The pain went on and on and all he could do was scream, his breath finally giving out as the General turned off the current. His body sagged against its bonds and he sucked a lungful of air in gratefully. His arms and legs continued to jerk as muscles groups fired against his will. He raised his head and grinned. He knew now what it felt like.

'Starsky. Corporal Serial numb……ungh….arghhhhh' another bolt hit his body full on and he jangled in the chair, screaming more to let himself know that he was alive than to ease the pain. Again the general flipped the switch and again he sagged against his bonds, sweat trickling into his eyes and down his bare chest. He groaned, his head feeling as though it would explode.

The General crossed the small distance between them and took a hand full of wet curls, forcing the young man's head up so that he could see into the pain filled eyes.

'Your Government doesn't care if you live or die. Why make it difficult for yourself? If you don't tell us, one of the others will'.

The brunet gathered the saliva in his mouth and spat it directly at the older soldier. It was tinged with blood and he realised belatedly that he'd bitten his tongue. The air was redolent with the smell of cooked meat and it was only when he looked down his body and saw the burns and blisters at the point of each electrode that Starsky realised that it was his flesh that was charring. A puddle beneath the hard wooden chair also gave evidence to the fact that he'd lost control of his bladder.

He concentrated hard on making words, but he was exhausted and his mouth refused to work properly.

'Go t'hell' he mumbled, screaming once more as the man at the controls flicked the switch. A dozen times the General paused to ask him the same question, telling him over and again that his government didn't care about him; that he as a useless piece of shit and that even his Mother wouldn't care if he lived or died. Towards the end of the session, the young curly haired soldier couldn't really differentiate between the times when the current was flowing, and when the switch had been flicked off. His body reverberated now to every touch; every movement. His skin crisped around the electrodes and the sickening smell of burned flesh pervaded the tent. And finally, mercifully, his body told him that enough was enough and despite the General's attempts to revive him, Starsky remained unconscious.