Chapter 1: The Great Escape

The briefing room wasn't much to talk about. A marker board and topographic map stood at one end of the room, showing the local area, and acting as primary sources of information when it came to team briefings. One man stood between the two boards in a Navy uniform, with his arms crossed. In front of him was a compilation of chairs, on which sat several other men in uniforms just like ones that he was wearing. They were all watching his briefing intently.

"Okay boys, the situation is simple." He started "As of two days ago, one of our planes spotted a truck making its way through the jungle. They followed its path and when they did, they found themselves looking down at a well camouflaged camp of some sort. They took as many pictures as they could and then headed back for home." He indicated a red circle on the map "Boys: we just found ourselves one of Charlie's prison camps."

He moved to stand on the left of both the boards.

"So our plan is simple: we'll insert via helo approximately one mile north of the camp, using the nearby terrain as concealment from enemy observers. After doing a pair of fake insertions to throw off any observers who can see us, the team will deploy, and make their way south. The plan is to breach the perimeter of the compound, eliminate the guards, and secure any prisoners." The man crossed his arms "After that you'll call in and members of the 101st will come in with medical support to help you secure the area and evacuate the prisoners."

"The Great Escape"

January 11th, 1968

Petty Officer Second Class Paul Havens

SEAL Team 1

Somewhere in the jungles of North Vietnam

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The two Hueys moved low over the trees, the SEALs in each one surveying the ground below as they flew over. I was a bit nervous as I checked to make sure my shotgun was okay for what must have been the third or fourth time since we had gotten on the helicopter. I had never been on an operation like this before, even though I was a Navy SEAL. Almost every other operation we went on was simple: go in to an area, kill the people there, maybe blow something up, and get out of there before the enemy could pin us down.

Now we had friendly forces to deal with, on-scene. We'd need to watch our shots in certain areas and make sure to clearly identify friend or foe. Sure it sounded easy but when you find yourself in combat, things rarely ever go cleanly, and when they do then the enemy is obviously laying a trap for you somewhere along the way. I tried not to worry, though. I had a job to do and I would need to keep my mind focused if I was going to make it through this alive.

The two helicopters approached the designated landing zone. I felt my stomach drop as our pilot dropped in to a wide clearing. He came to a hover over the ground for a few moments before rising up, heading to another clearing, and swooping down just as radically. He swooped back up a few moments later, came in to yet a third clearing, and I prepped myself to get off the helicopter. I was the second off with and I held my Stoner machinegun close to my chest as we suddenly descended in to the clearing.

The five of us piled of and went prone in to the grass. I looked down the sights of my machinegun as we all made sure the surrounding tree line was clear. We heard the sound of our Huey pulling away as the second one made its way in to our clearing. It came to hover over us and we couldn't even hear the sounds of our fellow SEALs hitting the ground. I only knew that they were reinforcing the perimeter when I saw one of the SEALs from the second team go in to a prone position on my right, with a pump-action shotgun.

Then we all lay motionless once again as the last Huey pulled away, the distinctive sound of its rotors growing more and more distant. Nobody made a sound as we all listened for the sounds of the local wildlife to return. As the first chirping started up again, our team leader deemed that it was safe to move out, and with a single hand signal we all rose up, and formed up in an extremely loose column that headed in to the forest. I was near the back as we went, constantly checking my immediate surroundings.

I couldn't fire, though.

Those were orders. The Stoner had a sound that had become synonymous with the Navy SEALs. It was a general rule of thumb that unless I had to, I wasn't supposed to fire the machinegun. There was an extremely hefty bounty on the heads of any and all Navy SEALs. The last thing we wanted to do was announce who we were to any poor, eager, and armed locals in earshot. Of course, if a fellow SEALs life would be directly in danger if I didn't, then I had been told that it would obviously be required of me to open fire on whoever was unlucky enough to be on the business end when I pulled the trigger.

The jungle was quiet as we moved, with only the sounds of nearby wildlife as we all made our way towards the prison camp. Our plan was to circle around the large hill behind which the helicopter had landed in order to attack the camp. Thankfully the scouting flights that had gone over the area didn't reveal any signs of NVA or Vietcong patrols on our specific approach route to the camp, but that didn't mean we were going to take any chances, and not keep our eyes peeled for any immediate danger to the team.

One such immediate danger came from up front as we were all given the signal to stop and get down. Dropping in to a crouch, I continued scanning the environment, but then realized what was happening as the rest of the column began slowly moving forward. Word came back through the line right after my realization to confirm it: our point man had spotted a trip-wire and now we were begging the painfully slow process of stepping over it, pointing it out to the man behind you, and waiting for everybody to do so.

It wasn't too long before I was in front of the wire after having our JRTO point it out to me. I rose up and slowly stepped over it, left foot first. The moisture clinging to the wire made it shimmer in the light coming through from the canopy. I followed the wire with my eyes and came to the splitting trunk of a small tree. There I saw a captured American grenade, with its pin tide to the wire, and ready to kill patrols just like ours. I wordlessly pointed out the wire to the man behind me and stepped all the way over.

Once that ordeal was taken care off, we continued our way through the jungle. Everybody was completely silent and now I was even more nervous than I had been before. I hated being in the jungle in the first place, it was enemy territory, and I really hated trip-wires. Then again, I don't think that made me different from almost any other soldier in the US military right now. I just had to suck it up and deal with it. I was in the Navy SEALs: we didn't get any low-risk missions. It just wasn't in our nature as soldiers.

When we finally came in to view of the prison's perimeter fence, we formed up to go over the final plan. A few minutes later I was lying prone on a mound of dirt, looking at the front of the prison complex. Our second machinegun had been placed at the rear, to provide cover on both sides of the base during the course of the raid. The occupants of the base all seemed completely oblivious. I guess I had really overestimated the NVA's competence for this mission, because none of them really seemed to be keeping an active eye out.

Meanwhile, at the north side of the fence the rest of the team was beginning to cut through the fence. Once I heard gunfire, my orders were to open fire on any Vietcong or NVA soldier that I saw inside the base. It would keep the enemy occupied long enough that they would have to keep their heads down while the rest of our boys looked for the prisoners. After that I would just have to come inside the fence with the rest of the team, and await the arrival of the boys from the 101st who would help us secure the place for evacuation.

I didn't have to wait in silence for long. I heard the distinctive sound of M16 fire and saw some of the people start looking to the north. I readjusted how the stock rested against my shoulder and then listened as the other Stoner gunner opened fire from his side of the camp. I aimed down my sites, picked a pair of NVA soldiers standing out in the open, and squeezed off a burst of rounds. I watched dirt kick up around them, both of them began convulsing with each impact, and then they fell over dead. By this time the whole base was on alert.

I began firing at anybody in an NVA uniformed that was our in the open, was firing out of a building, or made the mistake of putting their head out in the open for even the briefest periods of time. Eventually the one hundred-round belt I had loaded was spent. I placed the case with the pieces of the belt that had been spent and retrieved a new one from my vest. I quickly but calmly went about the loading process, putting in the new belt, and chambering the first round. Once that was done, I shouldered it again, and began opening fire.

January 11th, 1968

Petty Officer First Class Darryl Birdsong

SEAL Team 1

Securing buildings within the prison camp

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We had moved like lightning once we had cut through the fence. Our point-man had shot one of their sentries and it was only a few moments later when the Stoner machineguns had begun to open up on the NVA soldiers. After that we kept our fast pace, moving from building to building. Our team went through barracks, a kitchen, a few storage buildings, and we moved as fast as we possibly could to try and find the prisoners. I was right behind the point-man the whole time with my shotgun as we went and I was simply amazed that we had gotten so far with nobody getting hit by all the fire that was going around by then.

Now we were approaching the final building where we expected the prisoners to be. I was still right behind our point-man as we stalked up on the door. With an order from our commander, I retrieved a stun grenade from my vest while our point-man got ready to go. He looked back at me to make sure I was ready and I gave him a nod yes. I pulled the pin on the stun grenade, he opened the door enough for me to throw it in, and I did so. I heard it clatter on to the floor and heard a Vietnamese soldier or two cry out in surprise on the other side.

When it went off, we stormed inside. My shotgun was already raised and I took aim at the first man that I saw. He was holding his hands over his ears, walking around in pain, and completely disoriented. I fired off a single round. The spray hit him directly in his left side and I watched as he dropped like a rock. I couldn't stay and "admire" my work, though. We had to keep moving and get the prisoners out now. We suspected that they were being held downstairs.

We began moving through the rooms on the first floor, wanting to clear them before we went in to the basement to find the prisoners being held here.

January 11th, 1968

Private Jeremy Creed

1st Army Research Division, a.k.a "the Trust"

Held captive with Sgt. Adam Setser

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Looking back on it now in my cell, it was hard to believe that simply because I had stopped to save a teammate that I had been captured. Private Lemmis, the man in front of me when I had been running to the airfield with Staff Sergeant Moscerra, had gotten shot, and I had stopped briefly to try and patch him up. Apparently the others hadn't heard me and before I knew it I had suddenly been swarmed by the police in the area. A few years and countless beatings later: I was sitting in a cell in some prison somewhere, looking at the still figure of Sergeant Setser on the bed opposite of me, and trying to think of a way out.

Sergeant Setser and I had met in the Hanoi Hilton in '66. They had been shifting us around the country, from interrogator to interrogator, and had been getting more and more irritated that neither of us would tell them what they wanted to know. Our mutual captors had apparently thought that a stay in one of the worst camps in North Vietnam would loosen our lips a bit. When it seemed like that wasn't working, they had shifted us here to avoid any rescue attempts should another team like the one we had been part of came to get us out.

Since then they had eased up on me and started in on Adam. Whether it was because they thought he was the senior out of us or they were trying the "talk or your friend suffers" technique wasn't apparent to me. Whatever it was, they were brutal. They would come in every morning beat us mercilessly in our cells with clubs, and then they would drag Adam off for only the Lord himself knew what kind of torture. Whatever it was, it wasn't working on him, or at least that's the way it seemed to me.

If anything, it had made Adam more unwilling to talk.

He also had trouble walking on his own. Whenever he needed to use the bucket in the corner I had to get up and help him over there. The guards would just drag him to his torture these days, as if he were just a lump of meat. Mentally, it seemed like he was too, at least when it came to helping me formulate a plan. Whenever I proposed an idea, I was usually greeted with only tiny grunts or maybe a few words from him, if I was lucky.

It was getting hard, to be honest.

"Sergeant." I croaked, my throat parched.

He didn't move.

"Sarge!" I was straining myself.

"What, Private?" He was mumbling to the point where I had to strain to hear him.

"How do you think we're gonna get out of here?" I asked.

He grunted, shrugging his shoulders, "I don't know."

"Well, we've got to..." I was cut short by a sound in the distant.

It had been quick and almost impossible to notice from the basement of the building we were in. As I listened for it again, I was almost sure that I hadn't actually heard anything, but then I heard it again! Gunshots! Those weren't AKs as far as I could tell, either! That meant that US soldiers were hitting the camp! That meant we were probably going to be freed! I looked to Adam, suddenly rejuvenated with new energy.

"Sarge, Sarge!" I called excitedly.

"I hear it, Private." He grunted but made no move to sit up.

"It looks like we've got our rescue!" I couldn't believe how happy I felt.

I kept listening as the gunfire drew closer. It sounded like there was a lot of gunfire: machineguns, assault rifles, and I was pretty sure I heard explosions going off now. I watched the bars to our cell, feeling like I willing one of our rescuers to suddenly appear in the cell. My wish was granted, at least in part, when I suddenly heard a loud banging sound upstairs. Rapid gunfire soon followed, echoing down the stairwell, and off the stone walls of the basement. Then I heard the door at the top of the stairs come flying open, followed by rapid steps going down.

Moments later, there was a man at our cell with a shotgun, and he rapidly assessed the interior of our cell. He was about five feet and ten inches tall by my estimation, he was wearing jeans, a bush cap, a t-shirt, his LBEs, and he had skin so dark that it practically blended in with the surrounding shadows of the basement.

"US military: don't worry boys, we're getting you out!" He was obviously wired on adrenaline.

I watched across the room as one of the other soldiers in his squad kicked open a fragile-looking wooden door. The man then emptied his entire M16 magazine in to the room before disappearing from site. Meanwhile the soldier at our cell turned and kept his eyes on the stairs. Two other doors were down here and I watched the soldiers move to the other two. Rapid muzzle flashes and gun shots always followed moments after as they killed the North Vietnamese inhabitants.

"Jack, call in the support!" I heard one of them yell.

The man he was yelling at crouched down and began talking in to his radio. I listened as the man spoke, saying to "bring in the birds". Meanwhile, a soldier emerged from one of the rooms, and I could see he was holding something in one of his hands now. As he went to the three other cell doors besides ours, I could tell that he had found the key. It wasn't too long before they were tossed to the man in front of our cell, who quickly undid the lock. As he opened the door, I moved to stand up, and moved to Adam.

"The Sergeant can't walk!" I had to yell over the gunfire outside now.

"Don't worry: I can carry him!" The soldier reassured me.

"Sir, the birds are coming in five!" Their team's radio man shouted.

"Alright then, let's head up top!" Their commander ordered, "Darryl, Sam: you two stay here!"

The soldier in our cell nodded to their squad leader. I then watched as the others, save for a second man, all headed up the stairs to secure the building, and the two still with us took positions overlooking the stairs while they waited. I swear to God that it was the longest five minutes of my entire life. Eventually, a single man came walking, rather energetically down the stairs, and waved for us all to follow.

"Come on: the birds are here!" He yelled excitedly "Let's get 'em out of here!"

I suddenly found myself holding a shotgun. The soldier who had been with the two of us bent down and pulled Adam on to his shoulders. I hardly doubted I had any real strength to control the shotgun if I had to shoot, but I was willing to bet the helicopters they had called in were helping them clear out the area. Instead, I just kept a tight grip on the shotgun, and followed the soldier as he hauled Adam up the stairs to our awaiting freedom.

From there, we went out in to the open, and began running towards the center of the compound where a Huey bearing a red cross on its nose was waiting. The soldier set Adam down in the helicopter and a medic immediately began attending to him. Handing the shotgun back to the soldier, I then noticed men in the standard olive-drab uniforms who were going from building to building and securing the surrounding area. I climbed onboard the Huey.

"We made it, Sarge!" I called out over the sound of the rotors.

The medic broke from his work on Adam long enough to slide the side door shut. The Huey pulled away from the camp and I leaned back in to the seat. Sure, a Huey wasn't the most comfortable ride, but after having spent several years in a Vietnamese prison it was heaven. I shut my eyes, exhausted, and let the vibrations of the helicopter rock me to sleep as we flew back towards the safety of US-controlled bases.

The office had changed some over the years. The sound-proofing had been improved, the keypad lock updated, and the walls had been painted an egg-shell like color. The desk and the chairs had remained over the years, along with the occupants from before. The Director sat in his chair, a thumb hooked through his suspenders, and a cigar once again in his other hand with glowing red embers. Meanwhile the Doctor sat on the opposite side of the desk, holding a manila envelope in one hand, and a freshly lit cigarette in the other.

The ash tray was once again filled with the stubs of cigarettes and cigars.

"Director, I have some good news." The Doctor said, a small smile gracing his lips.

"What's that?" The director asked, readjusting himself in his seat.

"Sergeant Daniel Faraday and Private Gregory Mayer have been rescued." The Doctor said.

"Who?" The Director asked, confused.

"Sergeant Adam Setser and Private Jeremy Creed were rescued." The Doctor grinned lightly.

"I wasn't aware that we had sent out a rescue operation." The Director sounded suspicious.

"The Navy was conducting a raid: they happened to be in the camp." The Doctor explained.

"Is anybody suspicious?" The Director asked.

"No: our agents put in some paperwork to say that their tour was nearly up." The Doctor said.

"That's good..." The Director sighed, "...when can they get back in the field?"

"Both of them will be ready within two months." The Doctor said.

"That's good to hear." The Director replied.

"This brings me to something else: Petty Officer Darryl Birdsong." The Doctor's grin faded.

He set the manila envelope on the desk and the Director went through it while they talked.

Author's Notes: The new chapter! Yay! Anyways, so this was the rescue chapter...obviously. I have some exciting things (or at least I hope all the readers will think they're exciting) coming up next, people! I hope people enjoy this and I plan to make the next chapter soon.