Chapter 18

Over the weeks that followed, Starsky and Traff were moved from the 7053rd to the 19th Evac. That hospital was away from the front line and was more of a permanent affair with regular brick made wards and more substantial equipment. Traff continued to be treated for his Malaria and responded well, although he'd been informed that he would be shipped Stateside as soon as he was fit to recuperate. He'd managed a long talk with the doctor about his, and more importantly, Starsky's health and although Traff was ready to be moved now, the medics and the young soldier both agreed that it would be detrimental to the brunet's health if he was separated from his friend right now.

Although Starsky's physical injuries were healing well, it was the mental scars which most concerned the medical staff. Finger and toe nails were growing back nicely and the antibiotics he continued to take were doing well at fighting the infection still inhabiting his young body. The burns were healing well and his shoulder no longer required strapping. But he still had nightmares each and every night and during the day, while outgoing enough for a lot of the time, was given to periods of introspection. During those times, he seemed lost to the world and not even Traff could get through to him.

Right now was one of those times. Traff and Starsky had been involved in one of the more popular card games – how many could be flicked into an empty bedpan, when their new doctor, a Major Cox walked into their ward. He nodded to Traff and sat down by Starsky's side. The brunet didn't look up, or acknowledge the presence in any way. The doctor reached out gently and shook the young man's arm

'Hmmm……Starsky…..Corpor….' He mumbled before seeming to shake himself. His eyes cleared and he looked around himself as if seeing the doctor for the first time. He blushed and looked down at his hands. 'Sorry' he muttered.

'That's ok son' the older doctor smiled. 'It's to be expected and it's something I've come to talk to you about. 'A lot of men who've suffered the same sort of treatment you did have a similar response and I was wondering if you'd talk to the unit psychiatrist?'

'A shrink? Ya think I'm crazy?' Starsky asked, a little too loudly.

'Far from it' Cox replied. 'But sometimes talking about things helps'.

'Uh huh? What if I said I didn't want to talk about it? I've never been the touchy feely sort. I don't want the whole "tell me about your Mother" routine. Don't make me, Doc, please'. Indigo eyes leaded with the older man who sighed.

'Ok. I can't force you. And even if I could, it wouldn't do much good if you don't want to talk. But you need some way to get these thoughts out of your head, or at least in some kind of order so that you can start to process them. What about….have you though about writing them down?'

The brunet snorted. 'Don't think it'd make a bestseller, d'you?'

'It doesn't need to be a book. Just write down the stuff that occurs to you'.

'Like I said, I don't do "touchy feely". I like instructions. I like to have facts'.

'Well write down the facts. Write down what they did to you and maybe then you can start to make sense of it'.

Starsky looked troubled. 'I dunno…..never done nuthin like that b'fore. It don't feel right'.

'How do you know unless ya give it a go?' Traff offered.

'I'll think about it' Starsky agreed begrudgingly and went back to his cards.

Cox smiled and stood up. 'Good enough. Oh, Captain Trafford. There's a visitor for you. Major Sharpe, your CO. He's waiting for you in my office. He said he has to speak with you urgently'.

Traff stood up, glancing at his friend. Starsky had stiffened at Sharpe's name but hadn't looked up. He rested a hand on his friend's shoulder. 'S'ok Chief. I'll deal with it' he said softly and followed the doctor out.

He gathered himself as he walked into the room seeing the stiff upright back ahead of him. Sharpe turned as he entered and Traff snapped him a salute which held as much disdain as he could muster. Sharpe returned it and indicated for Traff to sit down.

'I'd prefer to stand Sir' he said stiffly.

'Very well, soldier' Sharpe sat himself behind the doctor's desk and clasped his hands in front of him.

'How's Captain Starsky?'

'Alive' Traff grunted through clenched teeth. Being in the same tent as Sharpe made his skin crawl, but he fought to remain civil. He didn't want the Major having any cause or excuse to reprimand him.

'And you? How're you doing?' he asked.

'As well as can be expected, sir'.

'I see. Stock answer huh? Ok well. I'll get to the point. HQ are asking that you and Captain Starsky file reports on his incarceration and your escape and the circumstances surrounding it. I'm here to guide you through the process'.

'Guide?'

'The forms are difficult and we wouldn't want erm…..wouldn't want the wrong information to get into the wrong hands, shall we say'. Sharpe's beady eyes drilled into Traff's emerald ones. 'The incident was unfortunate but you both showed a lot of bravery and I have rewarded you for that. There aren't many who would have made Captain so young or so quickly. You have a lot to thank me for'.

Traff's mind was running circles. How could this rat stand in front of him and more or less tell him what to put in his report? And to bluster his way out of the situation telling him he'd promoted them……to shut them up! Traff made his decision.

'Permission to speak freely sir?'

'Of course'.

'My friend, one of your soldiers, nearly died in that stinking prison camp for no reason. Two other men did die. There was never a Private Thorpe was there? You wanted us out of the way. You wanted to make sure that no-one knew your little perversions and in your sick mind….Sir….you thought the only way to do that would be to get rid of the evidence – Starsky. He was being punished for not wanting to provide, shall we say, a service for you that was above and beyond. The other two were just incidental weren't they? And at the end of it all, when you knew he hadn't a snowball in hells chance of coming back, you knew I'd came back and I'd be so…..'

'That's enough soldier!' Sharpe's face had assumed the colour of beetroot and he'd launched himself to his feet.

'…..I'd be so upset for the loss of my friends that you'd be able to do what you wanted and I'd comply' Traff finished, breathing heavily.

Sharpe came around the front of the desk, standing toe to toe with the young Captain and looking down at him. Traff refused to be intimidated and glared back at his CO.

'You have no idea what I could do to you' Sharpe sneered. 'You have no idea what I could do to your career, son'.

'I think you have that the wrong way around, Sir. It's my and Starsky's report. We'll put in it the truth. You have no idea what damage we can do to your career. But unlike you, we'll use official channels. We'll be telling the truth as we see it. And we won't be trying to buy you, or blackmail you. That's the difference between us…..Sir'.

'You stupid little runt! You and your moral high ground. You think it's easy? You think command is easy? I don't have the luxury of a cosy little friendship like you an' him got. I don't' have the luxury of goin' back to my tent at the end of the day and laughing and joking with my friends. Because, soldier, in command there are no friends. No cosy chats, just cold hard decisions. And yes, sometimes I have to watch my back……any way I can'.

Traff grinned up into the red face, coldly. 'And the sympathy vote won't work either, Major. I'm gonna say this one and once only. Stay away from me. Stay away from Starsky and maybe….maybe…..we can salvage something from this sorry mess. But there again, I can't promise'.

With that, the curly haired soldier turned on his heel and started to walk from the tent.

'I didn't dismiss you soldier' Sharpe's voice sounded behind him.

'And I didn't ask to be dismissed. But this is me, an' this is my back...walking out' he said, stifling a grin as he pushed the tent flap to one side and left.

oOo

2 months later

Starsky looked up as Traff walked into the room.

'Hey Chief, what's happening?' Traff said, appraising his friend. In the four months since he'd affected the rescue from Nah Am, Starsky had healed well, put most of his weight and muscle tone back on, and had managed to overcome some of the more debilitating nightmares. Bad dreams still plagued him, however and there were nights when he still awoke, drenched in sweat, moaning and pleading for the invisible hands to leave him alone.

During the ensuing months, both soldiers had been sent back to the U.S. and were now back at the base outside Bay City. Whilst Traff had been declared fit to return to duty but not to 'Nam, Starsky was still an albeit reluctant "prisoner" of the base hospital. They had both filed their reports on the events in 'Nam. And both had decided that they would tell the truth, but not all of it. Whilst their report was damning in its honesty of how Sharpe had handled the deployment of his men to Nah Am, they both agreed to leave out any reference to the fact that Sharpe had come on to the brunet. As Starsky wryly observed, it was bad enough that the Major "fancied" him without others thinking that Starsky might have been even remotely interested. And so Sharpe had been recalled from the camp, had been formally reprimanded, sentenced to twelve months in jail for gross misconduct and was told he was lucky to have avoided a court martial. Any prospect of a meteoric rise up the ranks for the Major was also now out of the question and whilst the two young soldiers felt vindicated, they also felt that they wanted to put the whole sorry incident behind them.

'I'm just waitin' Starsky grunted as he perched nervously on his bed. Today was the day the MO and the base commander were coming to see him to tell him what assignment he'd been given next. Like Traff he had signed on for three years and although he'd been terribly sick, he wasn't bad enough to be pensioned off.

Traff had been offered, and had taken, a posting to the 8th Battalion as a bomb disposal technician. He enjoyed the challenge of learning the new skills and also enjoyed the excitement and adrenaline rush that came with each new job. But he worried still for his friend.

'Looks like the waiting is over' Traff said snapping to attention as the two senior officers walked into the room. Starsky too stood and saluted, then sat again at the nod from the CO.

'Captain Starsky, how are you feeling today?' the MO asked, checking his chart at the foot of the bed.

'Fine Sir. I just wanna get outa here. Any chance?'

The MO smiled. 'I think that can be arranged, although I don't think you'll be fit for anything too strenuous for a while yet' He saw the brunet's face fall. 'Now before you get yourself all bent over, hear out Colonel Kominski' he nodded at the man next to him.

'Son, I have an offer for you'. He held a sheaf of pages under his arm and Starsky recognised them as the journal he'd started back in 'Nam at the request of Dr Cox. 'I, and quite a few of my colleagues have been reading through your writings. They're erudite, dispassionate and well written' he said as Starsky blushed.

'With our consent, we would like to take this one stage further. What you went through would have broken a lot of men. But you survived and now you've written down your experiences. But it's not just about you. The Army feels that what you've started here would be valuable on two levels. First as a sort of manual on which to base courses on how to withstand torture. Second, as a manual on interrogation techniques. What do you say?'

Starsky rubbed his hands through his hair. 'I don't now what to say Sir. I mean, I wrote that stuff down coz the Doc back there said it'd do me good, an' to an extent, I guess it has. But write something for others to read? I dunno'.

'You wouldn't just be writing Captain. We'd want you to lecture on your experiences too. If you feel comfortable with that'.

Traff snickered. 'Oh my God! Curly, the professor! I can't stand it!'

'Shuddup' Starsky growled. He came to his decision. 'What's the alternative?'

Kominski shrugged. 'More time here. More time in therapy. Then maybe a pension'.

There was no choice. 'Well don't say I didn't warn you sir. I may suck at this'.

Kominski smiled. 'Somehow, I don't think so'.

oOo

Epilogue. 18 months later

'Are you sure about this Curly? I mean, you got it pretty good here. What d'ya wanna leave for?'

Starsky finished stuffing his kit into his bag. 'There's only so much of my own voice I can hear Traff. You got what you wanted. You have your dream job…….and I can't abide havin' to salute ya, Major!'

Traff snickered. 'Never took ya for a sore loser. What're ya gonna do?'

'I got it all planned. I'm gonna join the police if they'll have me'.

'Police! Hell Curly, what d'ya wanna be a flatfoot for?'

'Well for one think, I suit black more 'n' khaki. An' second I'm not gonna be a flatfoot for long. I wanna be a detective'.

'You've been watchin' too many cop shows. Who d'ya think you are, Jack Lord?

'No. I got it all figured. I'm gonna get myself a pretty little blond partner. It'll be Starsky an' Smith, not Hawaii 50

'Whatever you say Chief. Colonel Kominski wants you in his office before ya go. Are ya ready?'

'Yes Sir' Starsky said with mock seriousness and with a final look around the small room that had been his home for 18 months, he picked his bag up and left.

Moments later, he was stood at attention in front of Kominski's desk as he waited for his Co. He'd thought it was just a final goodbye and good luck talk, but he was surprised to find that not only was Kominski there, but also a couple of his men, Traff and another of the Majors from the unit.

Kominski stood up. 'I know you're leaving us today Captain. But I wanted to mark this occasion in two ways. First. For all the assistance you have given to the Vets who have come through these units, the intelligence you have given us on Nah Am and for the instruction you have given to countless men over the past 18 months, you will leave the Army with the rank of Major. Congratulations'.

Starsky looked unbelieving at the badge Kominski handed him. But his surprises weren't over yet.

'And as a mark of the respect of the men who have served with you and for you, we'd like you to take away the first copy of what will become a very valuable text book for this unit.

Traff clapped him on the back as Starsky reached out a trembling hand to take hold of the slim tome. The cover was plain black, the only decoration the words picked out in red.

"An investigation of Interrogation and Mind Altering Techniques" The name of the author was picked out beneath – Major DM Starsky.

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