P. O. W. by Donald E. Zlotnik

the newly created wall was real or just part of his imagination. The bamboo was real.
    The Bru chieftain’s grandson had been hiding under the snake’s cage all afternoon. His grandfather had overheard the Vietnamese
     talking about putting the small American in with the snake, and the chief had devised this plan with the stakes and Montagnard
     antisnake potion. The boy lay on his back and listened to his grandfather chant him directions from the porch of his longhouse.
     The gongs reassured the small boy that Ae Die, their village god, would bring him much happiness for the brave deed he was
     doing for the American. The Bru ceremony would last all night long, and the boy knew he would have to remain awake to remove
     the sticks when his grandfather and the other elders warned him that the Vietnamese were coming to check up on the prisoner.
    Garibaldi listened to the Montagnard music and the singing that was so basic and yet somehow so reassuring. He hadn’t heard
     a word from Spencer since it had gotten dark and called softly over to him. “Spence? You OK?”
    “Sir, you won’t believe it….” Spencer’s voice was filled with his old self-confidence.
    “What?”
    “I’ll tell you in the morning…. Right now I want to get some rest.” Spencer rested his chin against his legs and closed his
     eyes.

CHAPTER FOUR
Da Nang
    Private First Class—soon to be Specialist Fourth Class—David Woods left the back of the truck and waved his thanks to the
     driver. He had hitchhiked from the First Cavalry base camp at An Khe to the naval hospital in Da Nang to see his teammate
     Reggie Sinclair. Lieutenant Reed had given Woods a three-day in-country leave to make the trip after their successful mission
     in the A Shau to retrieve the seismic-intrusion detectors.
    “Be waiting out in front of the hospital by noon!” Sergeant Shaw called back to where Woods was standing. “I ain’t going to
     wait for you and end up having to drive back down to An Khe in the dark!”
    “I’ll be here! Thanks, Sarge!” Woods left the roadside and entered the hospital compound through the main gate. Dual machine
     gun bunkers guarded the entrance in a symbolic gesture for security. The hospital was protected from attack by the large red
     crosses painted on each of the buildings and the fact that North Vietnamese and Vietcong prisoners of war were treated there
     exactly the same as an American would be. The idea was great for the humanitarians back in the States, but it lost its appeal
     to a young Marine or soldier who lost his legs and would wake up from surgery to find an NVA soldier in the bed next to him.
     It didn’t happen very often, but it had happened and had caused a lot of trouble when the Marine tried crawling out of his
     bed to choke the NVA to death.
    Woods checked with the information desk to find out which ward Sinclair was in. He followed the arrows around the quadrangle
     and then through a maze of wards until he admitted that he was lost. He stopped a friendly-looking nurse and asked for new
     directions. She showed him the hallway he needed to take and left him with a warm smile.
    The sound of the heavy engines from a CH-47 Chinook helicopter drew Woods to a side entrance of the hospital. There were nurses
     and green-clothed doctors running back and forth along the narrow corridor David was walking down, and he felt that he was
     getting in their way. A small screen door exited off the narrow hall, and Woods pushed it open and stepped outside to wait
     until the rush of corpsmen and stretcher bearers had passed.
    Woods turned around under the tin-roofed veranda and stood in mute shock at the sight before him. The end of the veranda opposite
     from where he stood had a large set of double doors that opened out onto the medical helipad. The CH-47 filled the pad, with
     the rear entrance to the craft facing toward the doors. The steel bed of the chopper was piled with the bodies of dead and
     dying Marines. Navy