Morale
AN: J. L. Hudson's Department Store no longer exists in Detroit, Michigan, on Woodward Avenue. It was the tallest department store in the world at one time (1961), standing 25 stories tall with five basements. It closed in 1983 and was imploded in 1998.
Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.
Chapter 10 White Dog Memories
After the early morning trip both men had taken across the hut to the bo to relieve themselves, neither Hannibal nor Murdock attempted to sleep. The dying breaths of the man in the hut next in line from them chased away any possibility of that.
After assisting Murdock to find a relatively comfortable position lying on his side, the older man sat at the foot of the platform. His eyes strayed over to where B. A. and Face slept as soundly as the hard bed and their occasional muscle spasms and small groans would allow.
"So, Hann'bal, when we get outta Nam . . . ya know, get home . . . what d'ya think yer gonna wanna do first?" The Captain's eyes were squeezed tightly shut. The corners of his mouth twitched from the fresh pain unleashed when Hannibal assisted him onto the wooden surface.
The Colonel gripped the edge of the platform and turned his gaze on the younger man. Both of them had played this game before.
Hell, what POW hasn't?
The reminders of things awaiting them beyond the jungles of Nam sometimes helped them not only pass the time but maintained their sanity in the face of starvation, deprivation and almost constant misery and pain. It was one of the whispered conversations POWs indulged themselves with when waiting for the next cadre of guards to show up to drag one of them to interrogation or indoctrination.
Hannibal thought he understood the reason for Murdock's choice of topic.
If I'm right, he needs me to play along with it. I guess if I were in his condition and knowing what he does about the next few days, I would, too.
He narrowed his eyes and thought for a few brief seconds. Then he let a smile play across his weary face. "Well, I won't be taking any vacations in the tropics for a while."
Murdock snorted softly at that response. "Huh. Good one, Colonel. Don' think I will either, come t' think o' it."
"If I had my wish, I'd return home right around mid-December in the midst of a snowstorm. By then the city crews would have the lighted Christmas trees, snowmen and snowflakes up on the street lights along Woodward Avenue. I'd go to Hudson's Department Store and look at the Christmas tree of lights. Murdock, the thing's about nine stories tall. Can you imagine that?" He noticed the other man shift his position a little. It was as if he were a little child listening to a favorite story, one he knew by heart but needed an adult to retell for the full magical effect.
That's right. Think of Christmas, Murdock. Think of celebrating it again back home. If you want it bad enough, maybe it'll come true.
"Gotta be one helluva 'lectric bill fer somethin' like that. What else, Colonel?" There was no mistaking the yearning for a hometown Christmas in the pilot's suddenly husky voice.
"Well, seventy-two thousand lights make a pretty bright tree. I'd go inside the store, a pretty lady on my arm, and have lunch with her in the mezzanine at the Piccadilly Circus Cafeteria."
"What color hair?"
"I've always been partial to brunettes myself. What about you?"
The pilot replied without hesitation. "Redheads with hazel eyes." He swallowed, his face pinching with either emotion or pain, maybe both.
Must be a girlfriend back home he's thinking about. No one gets that sort of look on his face without some kind of memory sparking it.
And then the pained look was gone, replaced with a small smile. "'N' what would you 'n' the li'l lady have t' eat?"
"My lady friend would probably have a Maurice salad. It's like a decked out chef salad. Nobody knows who Maurice was but he made one helluva salad. I'd have a hot open-face meatloaf sandwich, heavy on the mashed potatoes and gravy." He noticed Murdock nod with satisfaction and swallow.
"No rice?"
"Absolutely no rice." The Colonel was gratified with an even wider smile from the pilot.
He considered his next words carefully. "Then we'd take in the twelfth floor toy department. Some of the neatest Christmas displays were up there. One year, there were eight larger than life reindeer soaring above the aisles. The old decorations were smashed to bits after the holidays so there was something new every year."
"Musta been a sight t' see. But why durin' a snowstorm? Sounds cold." A tiny tremor went through Murdock's body but Hannibal couldn't tell if it was from the thought of ice and snow or from pain and fever.
I'll have to check that before very long. But if he's feverish, I can't do much about it.
"Oh, come on, Captain. Haven't you ever built snow forts or made the perfect snowball to throw at someone? Besides, the snow seems to make the lights sparkle brighter." He glanced over at Murdock and noticed a small frown. The pilot wasn't looking at him but at the doorway. Hannibal's heart sank inside him.
No. Not now. Not when he's building up his strength and will to survive again. Not when he's thinking of home.
Shadows passed by on their way to the next hut. Murdock wrestled with his fear for a few moments before whispering, "Still sounds kinda cold. But I'm all up for tryin' new things. Think they'll let us go home now, see if it's snowin' somewhere?"
"I don't think the current management will let us check out of this dump. Tell you what. When we do get home . . . " Hannibal stopped mid-sentence. Quiet footsteps in the dirt and approaching their door silenced him.
Noting Murdock's wild-eyed dread, the Colonel quickly lowered himself into a prone position beside him on the platform.
"It ain' even full daylight yet. They said afternoon. I know they did," the younger man murmured with panic in his tone. "Colonel . . . "
"Shhh." Hannibal shushed him and they both closed their eyes as if asleep.
"Đánh thức anh ta. (Wake him.)" The guard the POWs nicknamed Ferret barked a command from behind two armed men. The Colonel felt an involuntary shudder pass through Murdock's body.
Because he was lying on the outside, Hannibal was first to be grabbed and dragged off the bed. He shook his head, pretending to be groggy from being disturbed out of a deep sleep. Two guards held his arms to either side as two more guards pulled Murdock from the platform. Another VC soldier held an AK-47 on a wide awake Lieutenant and Sergeant where they sat, fists clenched but helpless to do anything, on the other wooden bed.
The Colonel flashed B. A. and Face a warning look before Ferret backhanded him. Hannibal felt his lower lip split and blood trickle into the stubble on his chin."You talk in sleep? Maybe not sleep? Why?"
Murdock's legs shook under him as the two guards gripped him by the arms. Paling, he took in several ragged breaths before pasting a sickly lopsided grin on his face meant to shake the VC guards' confidence. It didn't. It never did. But he continued to try.
"I was waitin' for Santy Claus, that's why. 'N' I always talk in my sleep. Now if I had a nightlight . . ." The pilot smirked, his eyes taking on a crazy defiant glint.
The guard on his right wrenched his arm as far up on his back as it would go. Kicking the back of his knee, the guard on the left dropped Murdock to the ground. Without warning, the action forced the right arm up higher toward his shoulder. A gasp escaped from the Captain's mouth before he was lifted to his feet again, trembling in pain.
"Lớn muốn nhìn thấy Ngài. (The Major wants to see him.) Mang lại cho anh ta. (Bring him.)" Ferret jabbed a finger at the pilot and then leered at B. A. and Face. He pointed at Hannibal. "Và anh ta. (And him.)"
The guards holding Hannibal passed through the door first, followed by the two dragging Murdock between them. Ferret and the last soldier brandished their weapons at the other two captives before backing out the door.
Hannibal could see light just beginning to filter through the canopy of leaves above the stockade. Six new POWs were lined up in the yard awaiting the ranking VC officer's inspection.
If Trình is going to take a look at the new guys that just came in, then why are we being brought to him?
Two POWs from the hut next door carried the naked body of another white man between them. Two VC soldiers directed them at gunpoint outside the stockade where a shallow pit would be the prisoner's final resting place.
"Tạm dừng! (Halt!)" Ferret's sharp command brought the five guards and their two prisoners to a standstill to allow the burial detail to pass.
The dead prisoner sagged between his POW escorts, his skeletal frame splotched with his own excrement, his frozen gaping mouth and lifeless stare the final expression of his last moments.
The Colonel wondered at the timing.
Wouldn't put it past these bastards to use that as a subtle psychological tool to get what they want from us.
As they passed in front of Hannibal and his two guards, he recognized the corpse as Cassel, the Air Force Lieutenant originally from the Bronx.
Murdock had identified the dead man as well. The sharp intake of breath the Colonel heard told him as much. A dull thud and a wheezing grunt came from behind Hannibal as the small sign of horrified grief the pilot expressed was met with swift punishment.
"Dirty . . . flea-bitten . . . sons-a-bitches . . . Go t' hell . . . All o' ya." Murdock's voice began low and rose into a high-pitched wail as he finished.
The two guards holding Hannibal stopped again and turned with him still between them. The Colonel tried but failed to catch the younger man's anguished gaze. Murdock kicked and flailed at his captors. His lips drew back in a canine snarl and his eyes darted frantically from one man to the other.
Ferret and the three other VC soldiers threw him belly down on the ground. After they managed to tie his wrists behind him, they furiously pummeled him with the stocks of their rifles for at least a full minute. He rolled from stomach to side and curled up in a fetal position, seeming not to feel the blows as howl after howl of wounded animal-like rage erupted from him.
And Hannibal was helpless to comfort him.
A strident voice rang out across the camp yard. "Bạn đang làm gì? Tôi cần anh ta sống. (What are you doing? I need him alive.)"
Just as suddenly the barrage of punishment stopped. Murdock lay, sobbing and ranting unintelligible words, at Trình's feet.
The commanding officer scowled at each of the soldiers. The look Trình gave Ferret made the other man bow his head quickly and shrink from his authority.
"Ông phải rời khỏi cho phía Bắc vào ngày hôm nay. Ông dự kiến. (He must leave for the north today. He is expected.)"
The VC Major nudged Murdock in the leg with his foot and added, "Cho anh ta những người đàn ông chết quần và giày dép. Anh ta chuẩn bị sẵn sàng. (Give him the dead man's pants and footwear. Get him ready.)"
To Hannibal, he said in broken English, "You will prepare your men to travel. Around Phu Bai, the Captain will travel alone."