Over the next two weeks, the life in the POW camp fell into a monotonous and painful cycle. The General had taken to bringing Starsky before him each alternate day and over the course of time, the young Corporal had been relieved of all his finger and toe nails, most of the nailbeds now suppurating and infected. The General had now become acquainted with Merry too and the young man had also been subjected to the electrical treatment and also to less painful but still coercive methods.
At one point Merry was gone from the cell for four days. During that time Starsky was beside himself with worry for the other guy and had tried to question the guards who had come with his rice and water, but to no avail.
When Merry was returned to the cell, he was disorientated, pale and almost delirious, but the brunet could find no fresh wounds on his body. Merry slept round the clock immediately upon his return and it wasn't until he'd woken that he'd managed to tell Starsky that the General had had him taken to a room where he was stripped of his clothes and sat upon a hard wooden bench. His arms were tied loosely behind him and his ankles were placed in metal cuffs linked by a length of metal bar. Ropes were looped around the bar and over the young soldiers shoulders and pulled tight so that he was pretzelled up, his head between his knees and is back bent forward so that the strain on all his muscles started a slow burn.
And then he'd been left in that position. At first he wondered what was happening to him and he'd tried to take his mind away to another place, but the soldiers refused to let him sleep and had given him tiny sips of water throughout the four days he'd remained tied. Never once did they let him up, so that in the end, when the ropes were removed, he'd collapsed onto the floor, his body refusing to move from that uncomfortable position. When they'd forced him to straighten out, the pains were so incredible that he'd passed out, there and then.
The brunet could hardly believe his ears. He'd heard about varying sorts of barbaric treatment, and had suffered some of it himself, but nothing compared to that. He couldn't get his head around what it must have been like for Merry to be tied into one position for so long.
For the rest of the day, the young soldier slept fitfully and over the course of the next two days, their captors left them alone. But on the morning of the third day, things made a dramatic change for the worse.
They had been quietly talking in their cell. Just normal stuff. Anything to keep their minds occupied and to stop brooding on when the next round of torture would start. They were discussing schooldays for want of a better subject and Starsky had just begun to describe a particularly beautiful girl he'd known, when the sound of the door to the cell block grated ominously open. The young men stiffened, their hearts hammering as they fought to keep their composure. General Mai and four soldiers stood outside their cell and at a rapid command from the CO, their cell door creaked backwards as the five men entered.
Without warning, two of the soldiers forced Starsky back against the far wall of the cell, their hands rough on his thin frame, a rifle across his throat so that he could neither move nor look away. The other two soldiers forced Merry up against the barred wall of the cell and General Mai looked at Starsky.
'You have been particularly quiet when we've been questioning you corporal. I tip my hat to your bravery' he said softly.
'Gee thanks, I aim t'please' the brunet spat out, using bravado to cover his fear.
'But I wonder just how quiet you will be if you see another hurting because of your stupidity and stubbornness' he looked pointedly at Merry, who hitched a breath and stared defiantly back.
'Don't you fuckin' lay a finger on him' the brunet growled, struggling to get rid of the soldier's hands holding him back.
Without a second look, Mai nodded to the two soldiers holding Merry. While one held the struggling soldier against the bars, the other took his rifle and started to swing it against Merry's legs, from shin to hip. The young man screamed repeatedly as Starsky yelled at them to stop, but his shouts were in vain. Over and again, the rifle butt landed with a sickening crack against Merry's legs as the brave soldier shouted, cried out and was then reduced to strangled whimpers as he sagged against the man holding him up. Within minutes, the blood was running freely and grey and bloody bone could be seen poking through the damaged skin.
Starsky continued to struggle against his own soldiers, shrieking and yelling at them in his efforts to get them to stop the vicious assault as Mai looked on, an expression of pity on his face.
Finally, as Merry blessedly lost consciousness, they stopped the horrendous attack and let his body slump to the floor. Mai took a step back and surveyed the broken soldier and the one whose breath was now coming in ragged sobs.
'Let his pain argue with the both of you. We will be back' he said and the five men departed as quickly as they came.
Starsky ran to his friend's side and tried to straighten out the young man's broken body. Merry moaned softly as the brunet tried to straighten his legs and his eyes flickered, but did not open.
'Oh Jeez buddy, I tried to stop 'em I swear I did' Starsky whispered as he ran his hand over Merry's sweat damp brow. He decided to move the young soldier onto one of the wooden benches, knowing that when Merry came around, the move would be entirely too painful, but still, as he took hold of the thin frame and lifted it, Merry screamed out in his delirium.
Laying the broken body down, the brunet examined the extent of Merry's injuries. His legs weren't broken so much as reduced to so much pulp, blood, shards of bone and other unidentifiable matter oozing from the wounds. Right there and then, Starsky knew his friend would not make it and over the course of the next three days, he gave up almost all of his own ration of water as he encouraged the feverish soldier to sip and he washed away the blood from his legs as much as he could. The young man remained unconscious for the most part, moaning and tossing in his sleep, any movement causing him to cry out. Starsky sobbed against him on more than one occasion, terrified at the prospect of being left alone and angry at his helplessness. Why hadn't he told them? Why hadn't he saved Merry from this? What was so fucking important about some Senators son who he'd never met and might already be dead?
On the evening of the third day, Merry opened fever bright eyes and looked around him.
'Hey Alan, how're ya doin' buddy?' Starsky said softly, wiping his friend's forehead with a damp cloth ripped from Merry's own vest.
'Not…..good.' Merry gasped. 'D Dave…not goin'…t'……make it'.
'Hey sure you are. Stay with me huh? We'll get outa here. I promised we would' Starsky soothed, his hand never leaving Merry's arm.
'S Starsky?'
'Uh huh?'
'If y ya get back…..tell my Mom…..I love her'.
'You can tell her yourself. We're getting' out'.
'N no….not'.
'Oh shit Merry. Alan c'mon stay with me buddy. I….fuck, this is all my fault! I should'a told 'em. I should'a….'
The injured boy used up his remaining strength as he pulled at Starsky's arm. 'Wouldn't have it…..any other….way. Thankssss' he gasped. And then his eyes rolled back into his head, his hand falling down to lie lifeless on the bench.
Starsky closed his eyes and sobbed for his friend, for his loneliness and from shear terror at what was now waiting for him. Throughout the night he kept his vigil by the body of his friend and in the morning when the guards came to take the corpse away, he stood stiffly and painfully to attention, saluting his fallen comrade.
From then on, things took a different turn. More often now, he was left for long periods without food or company as the days turned to weeks, and while the periods without torture were welcome, he found it difficult to keep his mind occupied. His fingers and toes were infected and he could neither walk well, nor pick up and hold things without intense pain. When eating, he was reduced to lapping the food from his bowl like a dog, his finger tips too sensitive to handle the soft mushy rice. But he tried to keep his spirits up and when the guards were not around, some of the prisoners, despite the fact they couldn't see each other, sang songs and shouted jokes up and down the corridor.
On the sixth week of his incarceration, the General again sent for him and the soldiers came to drag him away to a different room completely. He was pitifully thin now, sores breaking out across his body and the lack of water led to hallucinations and confusion, but as he stood between the soldiers, swaying slightly, but refusing to fall, the General walked into the room to stand in front of him.
'Haven't you had enough yet Corporal? Your country has washed their hands of you. Your commanders have told us we should kill you now. They don't want to know you any more. So why hold out? Why not save yourself any more pain? You only need to tell me why you're here and we'll let you go. Tell me, soldier. Why are you here?'
Starsky glared at the man. He'd been told so often that he was a no good dirty American piece of shit that sometimes he almost believed it. But he couldn't believe that his friends had forgotten about him, or had washed their hands of him. He swayed.
'C corporal David Mmmmichael Starsky…… 231-51-3155. U united States Armmmmy.' He mumbled as clearly as he could. Mai slapped his face and tried again.
'Who sent you? Why? For what purpose?'
'N no purpose…..wanted t'see the world' the brunet tried to grin.
The soldiers took hold of him and forced Starsky down onto a bunk bed in the corner. He was forced face down onto the bunk with his ankles trapped into stocks attached to the foot of the bed, across the top of the metalwork. Next they tied a rope tightly at his elbows so that the circulation was in danger of being cut off and with the rope then pulled up to run through a hook in the ceiling they hoisted the brunet off the bunk bodily. Starsky grunted, sweat beading on his body and dripping onto the stained mattress below as his body weight hung from his tightly bound arms. There was no way he could ease any of his weight from ankles and his elbows. His breathing became constricted and he was in danger of hyperventilating. He screamed out in agony and the scream added pressure onto his already overstretched rib cage.
The pain was literally beyond description and he groaned with every breath he tried to take, the pains lancing through his arms, chest, back and legs until his whole world was a flaming red blaze of agony.
But after about 10 or 15 minutes the brunet noticed some improvement in his circumstances. The soldiers stood by impassively and the General remained in the room, gently cleaning and trimming his nails, but Starsky's body became used to being held in this position, tied up so tightly, with his nerves in his arms pinched off. Slowly his whole upper torso became numb. The relief was indescribable and for the first time in a quarter of an hour, he breathed a little easier, his head hanging down in exhaustion so that his curls brushed the dirty mattress. The General peered up at him, into his face.
'Tell me why you're here'.
'F fuck you' the curly haired soldier sobbed, name rank and serial number forgotten in the blessed relief from the pains.
The General nodded at the soldiers and swiftly, they cut the brunet down. Now however as they released the ropes, the procedure worked completely in reverse and once again the spears of fire coursed through his body as he writhed on the bunk, unable to stop the miasma of pain. Tears of anger, fear and pain coursed down his cheeks unchecked and Mai looked on, a small smile on his face.
He took hold of a handful of curly hair and gently lifted Starsky's head. 'A few more sessions may help your memory' he said softly as the soldiers hauled him up again.