Chapter 9: Past reflections

As they waited for Colonel Sieu to return, Murdock filled Face in with a few more details about what Joanne had told him about her past and where they were being kept captive. Both agreed that an escape plan would be futile. Even if they could get out of the store room, there would be no way of getting through the bunker's 3 foot thick concrete walls or the blast doors. Not knowing who else was occupying the bunker and with no weapons between them, it could prove more perilous trying to escape. The preferred option was to just sit tight and hope that Hannibal would come to the rescue.

As the time passed by, the two men sat side-by-side on the floor in stony silence. Neither seemed particularly interested in making further conversation. Although the friends had put their differences aside as they faced more serious consequences, Face was still smarting from Murdock's revelation about his momma and aunt. And Murdock's injuries and pending doom had stripped him of his previous jovial demeanour, as he quietly drifted off into his own little world.

The temperature in the store room had become stifling hot and suffocating. Whereas at one point there must have been air-con in the room, there was no evidence that it was now operating. Despite the heat, Face pulled his jacket tightly around him, feeling self-conscious about the fact that he was bare-chested. He glanced furtively at Murdock, who seemed to be staring upwards, in a hypnotic state at the light attachment on the ceiling. Face had seen that look before and knew it was usually a sign that Murdock was in a bad place.

"Jeez, it's as hot as Hades in here!" panted Face, loudly, hoping to stir Murdock from his trance. "Maybe Sieu has decided to just let us stew in our own juices!"

"Maybe," replied Murdock, still staring at the light.

"Murdock?" questioned Face, anxiously, not sure if the pilot's vagueness had anything to do with his injuries or whether he was about to embark on his own personal nightmare. He knew how dangerous it could be living in Murdock's head sometimes! "Where are you buddy?"

Murdock continued to stare at the light. Except it wasn't the light anymore. The long wire cable with its solitary bulb hanging from it, had changed into a meat hook. It dangled above him, suspended from the ceiling in a sadistic fashion. Even though he knew what horrors it would unfold, he couldn't drag his gaze away from it.

He was back in the Hanoi Hilton, enduring another routine torture session with the hook. The guards had tied up his hands and feet and bound his hands to his ankles. If he was lucky he would be tied up bent in a forward position. But usually they preferred to bind him in a backward position. The ropes were tightened to a point where he couldn't breathe. Then, either bowed or bent in half, he would be hoisted up onto the hook to hang by the ropes. The guards would return at intervals to tighten them until all feeling was gone and his limbs would turn purple and swell to twice their normal size. This would go on for hours, sometimes even days on end.

"Murdock!" shouted Face, now shaking him violently to stop him from zoning out completely. Murdock finally shifted his gaze from the ceiling and looked at him with a far-off look in his eyes.

"My father sells flowers," he said in a robotic tone, almost as if he was answering a random question under interrogation.

"And I'm a monkey's uncle!" replied Face, still holding Murdock in a firm grip until he was certain he wasn't going to slip into a place where he couldn't reach him. He sighed in relief as he saw a hint of recognition flicker in Murdock's eyes.

"Don't leave me now, buddy," implored Face. "We're in this thing together, right?"

The wretched desperation in Face's words jolted Murdock out of his trance. He gave his friend a lopsided grin as he shifted into a more comfortable position on the floor.

"I was just thinking that if we get out of this alive, I'm never going to complain about room service again!" jested Murdock.

Face laughed nervously. But inwardly he knew Murdock had been thinking dark thoughts. From his throw-away remark, Face guessed it probably had something to do with the Hanoi Hilton. Having been separated from the pilot during their incarceration there, the only way they got to know if he was still alive, was by learning the tap code to communicate with the other prisoners around the camp. It was by the grace and mercy of God that they had survived the hell and torture inflicted upon them. But however bad it been for them, it had been twice as bad for their Captain. Pilots were not liked by the VC!

Seeing a pink stain seeping through one of his make-do bandages, Face immediately leapt into action to rectify the situation.

"Let's just fix this up," he said as he carefully removed the blood-stained bandage and proceeded to make a new bandage with the remaining strips of his shirt. "I think maybe Sieu cut you deeper than we first thought."

Murdock sat patiently whilst Face fixed him up. He had gone very pale, and Face couldn't help but be worried about him. There had been many times in the past when he had put this man back together – and vice versa.

Seeing Angel again brought back vivid memories to mind. The team had been caught by the VC and taken to one of the camps before they were transferred to Hanoi. General Chow was the camp commandant and it was pretty clear that Lieutenant Angel was in his pocket. The no-mark would call the prisoners up to his hooch for interrogation. He was looking for someone to rat on the others. He would lay his tobacco on the table, bribing the men to take the bait. Nearly always somebody did. And it always seemed to be Face – who never played by the rules and made it clear he didn't like Angel – who suffered.

The prisoners had been split into two separate 10-man squads shortly after they had arrived at the camp. Murdock and Face had been in one squad occupying one hooch and Hannibal and BA in the other. Maybe if Hannibal had been with them he would have kept the two young scamps out of trouble, but their paths did not cross that often.

During one barbaric torture session, both of them had been brutally flogged with a rubber whip. Afterwards, they had been left to rot in their wooden cage, bleeding profusely and covered in sickening bruises. But as they lay huddled together, their skin ripped and torn and their bodies throbbing in agony, it would be Murdock who would keep their spirits up. Even in his semi-conscience state, he still managed to wind up the guards (and Angel) with his unrelenting singing and Vietnamese dialogue, which Face was sure was not very complimentary!

One of the first things Angel had told them on their first day in the camp, was that "In the jungle the lion is the king. To survive you must live like an animal." Hannibal had declared to his team that they weren't going to live like that. He also had taken his fair share of the torture treatment and to a lesser extent, BA. Maybe that's what had made them targets. They had refused to be broken. They had bucked the system wherever they could and their diehard attitude had angered and confused their torturers.

Face wasn't so sure he would have survived without Murdock by his side. He was still young, hot-headed and more vulnerable then he would ever let on to anybody. Murdock had been his big brother through those hellish weeks in the camp. And even before their capture Murdock had been a priceless addition to their team. The crazy dinky-du pilot had risked his own life to save their sorry asses over and over again when they had been cornered in the Jungle by the Viet Cong.

He was their team mascot. You kind of knew that if you had Murdock on your side, you were going to win. His persistent, almost annoying sense of fun and mischief lifted all their spirits – even BA's – although he wouldn't outwardly admit it! Many a time he had rescued the guys single-handedly during their missions over the years, which was a true testament to his loyalty and dedication to protect his team.

Suddenly the anger and frustration he felt about his momma and Joanne subsided. What was the point of getting upset about circumstances that had been out of his control? They were just pipedreams that played with his mind and messed with his emotions. If his momma had made sacrifices for him, then it was his duty to make sure her sacrifice wasn't made for nothing.

During Vietnam the team had become his family. They were just a bunch of misfits who had come together to create their own dysfunctional family. But the bond between the lieutenant and the pilot had been especially strong. Even now, Murdock was looking at Face as if he knew what he was thinking.

It was at that moment that Face knew he had to do something. He had to get them out of here. He wasn't going to let Murdock down. He wasn't going to give up without a fight. He jumped up and re-scanned the room with expert precision.

"You gotta plan, Lieutenant?" enquired Murdock.

Face's eyebrows furrowed up into a deep frown.

"Well, we haven't got much to work with," he replied, honestly.

"Ah, but that's when you get your best ideas!" proclaimed Murdock, making reference to Hannibal's quote about how Face always worked better when he was under pressure.

"There's no way we are going to be able to move those tanks," continued Face, still deep in thought. "But maybe we could use the oil for something to cause a diversion? Perhaps a spillage on the floor might do the trick? We could unscrew some of the caps, dip them into the tanks and use them to collect the oil in. And I think that chair will come in handy."

He looked back at Murdock, who seemed to have got back the old sparkle in his eyes again.

"You ready to rock 'n' roll, Captain?"

Murdock stood up slowly and gave Face a staunch salute.

"Let's get this party started, Lieutenant!"

[AN: Thank-you to Maclooping, who, in a recent PM conversation, referred to Murdock as the team's mascot and hence inspired me to write this chapter.]