Court Martial by Donald E. Zlotnik

in front of Warner almost instantly. One second he was struggling through a thick patch of finger-sized
     bamboo and the next instant he was standing in a man-made clearing. He took a quick step backward and lowered his weapon.
     The clearing was empty.arnason moved forward and joined Warner. The point man indicated that this was the rendezvous site.
     Arnason scanned the edge of the fifty-meterwide clearing and saw nothing, yet he hesitated on stepping out in the open. He
     tapped Warner’s shoulder and then Koski’s and pointed to his left. He wanted them to circle the small clearing to the left,
     while he would take the right side with Sanchez and the Montagnard. Woods would remain there and act as a covering force and
     a point of reference in case they made contact with the NVA.
    A small man stepped away from the jungle on the far side of the clearing. He carried a folding-stock AK-49 and an NVA canvas
     chest pack with six extra magazines. A machete hung from a cloth belt around his waist. He wore the traditional costume of
     the Bru. The Montagnard interpreter noticed immediately that the man was authentic Bru and wore the color-coded vest jacket
     of a Bru chieftain. The man they had come all the way from the A Shau Special Forces camp to meet was standing fifty meters
     away.
    “Him here.” The interpreter whispered in Arnason’s ear and pointed.
    Sergeant Arnason hesitated and then stepped clear of the jungle. He was still not sure if this was an NVA trap, using the
     Montagnard chief as bait.
    The short, barefoot man started walking across the clearing toward the American andarnason followed suit and walked out to
     meet him, carrying his CAR-15 slung over his shoulder. The interpreter followed close behind. He was from the Sedang tribe
     north of Kontum, but he could easily converse with the Bru.
    The interpreter was the first one to break the silence with a common greeting. The chief gave a curt nod and asked for proof
     of their association with the blond American.
    Arnason looked around the clearing and saw that the edge of the open circle came alive with Montagnard warriors. Some of the
     camouflaged little men had been only a couple of meters away from his teammates and had not been seen. Arnason was impressed.
     He reached into his jacket pocket and removed a plastic bag that had been neatly folded and slipped the photograph out so
     the chief could see it. There were five men in the photograph, two on each side of Spencer Barnett. The chief recognized the
     young blond soldier and smiled. He looked at Arnason a couple of times and then back down at the color photo before he tapped
     it and grunted.
    “He accepts the proof.” The interpreter’s face showed his relief. He wasn’t going to worry the Americans unnecessarily, but
     if the chief hadn’t accepted the photograph as proof of their friendship with the Amerian soldier who had been a POW in his
     village of A Rum, they would have all been killed on the spot.
    Sergeant Arnason remained looking at the Montagnard chief but spoke to his interpreter. “Ask him if it is safe to remain here.”
    The interpreter spoke and the chief looked around the area and then spoke to his men.
    “We go to their village for the night. He said for your men to walk with him.” The interpreter smiled. They were being honored.
     “Don’t fear. You will be safe with the Bru. The American, Spencer Barnett, is honored by these people.”
    Arnason nodded and waved for his team to join him in the clearing. He took a deep breath as he directed his men to walk close
     together behind him and the Bru chieftain. The team sergeant knew that they would be safe with the Montagnards, but all of
     his training and experience in the jungle was being rubbed the wrong way.
    The walk to the hidden Bru village followed the natural contours of the ground, and even though the trail went through some
     of the densest jungle in Laos, the walk was easier than a normal recon patrol.