Chapter 11

He came back to consciousness this time in a different place, his body trembling uncontrollably as it tried to cope with the shocks it had endured. He opened his eyes and groaned softly, his hands wrapping around his chest as he struggled to breathe.

'Easy there Curly. Just lie back. They did a real number on ya' Merry said worriedly. What happened?'

The brunet passed a hand over his eyes and tried to swallow but his throat was dry as sandpaper. 'Drink' he croaked looking at his comrade.

'Sorry pal. No can do. We got transferred from the Hilton to the Waldorf just after they took ya an' the room upgrade didn't include water, or food for that matter.

Starsky forced himself into a sitting position. He was on a bunk of sorts. Or rather it was a wooden bench fixed against one wall of the slightly larger cell. This one had the same sort of bench against the other wall too so at least two of them could sleep simultaneously. The front wall of the cell was made of bars and he could see out, although the view of the dirty grey wall opposite was not exactly inspiring. 'Where are we?' he gasped.

'In the main prison part. They took Tugs away' Merry said, the strain in his voice more marked now.

'Oh shit, when?'

'Bout an hour ago. What did they do t'you?'

'Hooked me up to the mains an' tried to force me to tell 'em what we were doin' here' Starsky said, examining the large burns on his chest. Somehow, he'd got his BVDs back and fortunately they covered the family jewels although he felt as though they were on fire. He decided not to look for the time being and concentrated instead on his surroundings.

'Did you get a look around on your way here?'

'Not much. It was dark. There's one long corridor with cells down one side. Some have got guys in, some are empty. The guys I did see looked erm….well they could do with some TLC' Merry advised him.

'Uh huh, somehow I don't think we're gonna get a massage an' a night of hot sex' Starsky said grimly. His body was stiff and sore as though he'd been beaten with a bat or had survived a road traffic accident. In a way he was proud of himself that he'd managed to endure the torture without breaking and it made the pains in his body easier to bear. In fact, when he thought about it, they weren't quite as bad as he'd imagined they'd be. Oh sure, he hurt as though he'd had a prize fight with the world heavyweight champion, but he could walk, talk and breathe. And then it hit him. This was just the first round, and he somehow guessed that General Mai wouldn't want to stop there. He shuddered and the fear once again gripped his chest.

He jumped and looked around as the door grated open and the two soldiers flung Tug's limp body onto the floor of the cell, closing the barred door behind them. Merry left his side and shuffled over and gently rolled the unconscious man onto his back. Tugs moaned but his eyes remained closed. He was wet and his breath seemed to bubble in his chest. Merry thought he looked like someone who'd drowned, but how could that happen in the middle of the jungle?

'How's he doin'?' Starsky asked struggling to get up.

'Dunno. He's comin' round I think. He's shivering like he's been swimmin' or something……hey Tugs. John…..c'mon pal, wake up huh?'

Tugs eyes flickered open, a look of pure terror in them. He squirmed away from his fried and tried to curl into a ball away from Merry's hands. Gently Starsky leaned over and touched his shoulder

'Tugs…John….listen to me. You're back in the cell buddy. You're safe. Can you tell us what happened?'

Tugs gurgled and rolled onto his side, coughing up blood stained water. He gagged and gasped, then rolled back onto his back and closed his eyes.

'I've never known anything like it' he whispered in a terrified voice. 'I was…..I was so fuckin' scared. They t tied me to a wooden bench so tight I c couldn't move. They shouted at me to open my mouth, but I wouldn't….didn't want to make it easy for 'em, so they stuck something….think it was a rifle barrel or a stick in my mouth an' pushed. Then they stuffed my mouth full of some kinda cotton gag. I felt something like a …a wooden log or stone got shoved under my neck. They'd put a blindfol….oh….shit' he whimpered. 'They tied it over ….. over my eyes an' I couldn't see a damned thing, but I could hear 'em walkin' round me…..I could smell 'em. Then they held my head an' I felt water on my face. It…..I can't…can't….'

Starsky held his hand on Tug's shoulder. 'Easy soldier. Easy John. S'ok. Just rest. Tell us if ya want, but don't get all bent up. You're safe now'. The soldier trembled against the brunet's hand, but he hitched a breath and continued.

'The water….. ran down my throat and up my nose an' I couldn't breathe coz of the fuckin' gag in my mouth was wet too. I couldn't get any air an' thought I was gonna die. An' all the time they were tellin me you didn't care about me, You were in charge an' ya didn't care, an' I was gonna die. They kept….they kept pourin' the water an' I couldn't breathe. It was like I was drownin' an they never let up. I kept passing out, but they'd just wait till I came round. I coughed up crud an' then they'd start again….Oh fuck I was so shit scared….I never told 'em…..honest I didn't Curly…. Couldn't even remember why we were here. Couldn't think of anythin' but the next breath'.

Merry and Starsky exchanged horrified looks, only imagining what it could have felt like, and very aware that they too might have to deal with the treatment.

For the rest of the day, they took turns holding the numbed soldier as Tugs floated in and out of consciousness. There were times when he shouted out and thrashed his arms, knocking them out of the way and other times when he lasped into a nightmare world where he curled into their comforting bodies. Slowly his body succumbed to a fever as the fluid filling his lungs turned to pneumonia.

Over the next few days they came alternatley for Starsky and Tugs. The brunet hated the fact that they picked on the other soldier. He was getting steadily more sick and the NVAs seemed to take a fiendish delight in waterboarding him over and again. The fluid in his lungs now stopped him from breathing freely and whenever the door to the cell clanged open, he would cower away, feverish and semi conscious. Starsky yelled at them to take him instead, but they ignored him, knocking him and Merry out of the way until one day, perhaps ten days into their incarceration, Tugs did not return.

Starsky and Merry were picking their way through the meagre bowlful of rice that was their daily allowance. It was cold and tasteless, but they ate anyway, conscious that they had to keep up their strength. Whilst Merry had still remained untouched, Starsky had had two more sessions of electricity before the soldiers changed tack. On that day they'd taken him from the cell to a different room in the prison building this time. They'd forced him down and had tied him to the chair same as always. But this time, instead of hooking him up to the generator as he'd come to expect and loathe, they fastened his bare feet down to the legs of the chair and placed them in bowls of water. The absence of any painful stimuli was almost worse than the current flowing through his body and he'd yelled at them, fighting to get away. And then he was left tied in that state for a whole day, his body getting stiffer and more sore and his nerves more and more frayed. At the end of that time, the General had some back into the room and had casually asked him why he'd been sent.

Starsky started to rhyme off his name and number so the soldiers had taken his feet from the water and ripped the softened big toe nails from their beds. The pain was exquisite and he'd screamed louder than ever, unable to bear the feeling of the air and water on the bleeding, raw nail beds. And then they'd dragged him back to his cell and left him. But the pain didn't end there. Over the course of the night, as the nail beds dried out, the skin tautened and stretched leaving his feet feeling as thought they were being dipped into fire.

In the three days since the start of this torture, he'd been releived of another 6 nails and was unable to walk properly, his feet a mass of blood and yellow matter.

And so when the door to the prison wing grated back, he looked up as the guards came to the front of his cell and levered himself to his feet. He'd expected Tugs to be brought back to them and braced himself to once again deal with the moaning, the sickness and the fear in the man's eyes. But his time, the guards were empty handed.

'Where's Corporal Tugs?' he yelled at them, not expecting a reply.

The yellow faced man look impassively at the two captives before dragging his finger over his throat. He didn't need any English to make it clear that Tags had finally been killed by the water treatment.

The two remaining soldiers lapsed into silence, on the one hand mourning their friend, and on the other, thankful that he was out of harms way and had had an end to his suffering. Merry paced the cell.

'Where the fuck is Sharpe?' he ground out. 'Why the hell doesn't he send someone to get us out? Goddamned Senator's son. I just hope that git Thorpe is worth it!'

'Hey, Merry. Save your strength' Starky rasped. In the twelve days since they'd been taken, he been taken for one sort of torture or another each day and his voice was a hoarse parady of what it used to be. His body too was suffering, not only from the burns and wounds but also from the lack of food and water. One bowl of rice and two small cups of water were designed to be just above starvation level and he could already feel that he'd lost weight and had the beginnings of a low grade fever. But he kept that to himself. Merry was already tearing himself up because the soldiers seemed to be ignoring him and taking Starsky and their now dead friend instead.

That night they slept fitfully. The lights never went off in the prison block and there was always some noise, either moans from men in other cells or the screams of those who'd been taken for further questioning. It was all designed to wear down resistance and the brunet smiled grimly to himself as he thought how effective it was.

The fear that both men had felt upon being captured had not gone. In fact with the treatment Starsky had received it mounted day by day. "Living on his nerves" as his Ma would have said. He had a constant pain in his stomach and felt nauseous most of the time, but still he continued to force the rice and water down in an attempt to keep strong, never doubting that they would soon be set free.

oOo

Tom Trafford walked back into the camp after the "small escort duty" that he'd thought would be an overnight afair had lasted almost two weeks. It had taken him deep into the enemy territory and he'd served his purpose on a number of occasions by firing at disguised enemy positions and taking out the enemy snipers. He felt pleased with himself and had even managed a night in a small local village with a very pretty young girl who was more than accommodating. But now, after a half hour trek through the jungle back to camp hauling his pack on his back, he was looking forward to a luke warm shower, a cold beer and to catch up on things with his friends.

Walking into his tent, he saw that the other three bunks were tidy and looked as though they had not been slept in for at least a night. Curious because kit bags were still there, he walked over to Sharpe's tent and confronted Millin.

'Where's the guys?' he asked.

'Guys?'

'Starsky Tugs and Merry. Where are they? The tents empty'.

Sharpe heard Traff's voice and came out from his inner sanctum, plastering a sympathetic look onto his face.

'Ah, Corporal. I'm glad you're back. I regret to inform you that your three friends were sent on a top secret mission. They were due back thirteen days ago. Traff, son. We've heard back that they're dead'.