of the French Legionnaire Parachutist Regiment) savagely attacked our unit, killing everyone, but me.”
Major Dong spoke slowly and deliberately, as if trying to recall every detail; his evil little face contorting like a hideous mask.
“General Ho Chi Minh, our great leader, had entrusted me with this important mission and sent my patrol to scout the main runway at Dien Bien Phu,” continued Dong with menace in his voice.
The little major spoke as if he had an audience of attentive school children; his gnome-like features creased in anticipation of applause from his invisible audience. The major continued in a barely audible whisper.
“All French Legionnaires were worthless scum, they mistreated and abused my people and all Vietminh!” “Ha!” shouted Major Dong.
“I got my revenge, and they still remember me, “Sal maudit Legionnaire,” (Dirty cursed—), he continued with fervor.
“Insolent and stubborn, at first. But, even their Germanic pride was no match for me. Did you know, CPT Grant, that many of these legionnaires, were, in fact, former SS soldiers?” He asked, the still silent Jeremy.
“But I showed them how to crawl and beg for mercy. At the end, they all begged for mercy,” screamed Dong.
He seemed to slip in and out of consciousness and reverted back and forth between French and English, his lips contorting and twitching. His eyes were glazed and dark. He suddenly shouted: “Those Legionnaires were foreign mercenaries fighting for an imperialistic power. They fought in Morocco and Algeria and developed many interesting torture techniques. You are lucky, CPT Grant, I will personally introduce you to some of the more enjoyable Ones!” leered Dong, at the stoic Grant.
Although Jeremy was dreaming, his entire Vietnam experience unfurled within his now sleeping brain.
Major Dong’s threats had Jeremy suddenly feeling a cold chill throughout his body, and he visibly shrank into a tight ball. Grant didn’t really care about Major Dong’s sad experience with the French Foreign Legion. He only hoped that he could survive this new form of torture. Grant’s only wish was to get his hands around Dong’s throat and squeeze until all of his rotten beetle-juice-stained teeth popped out.
Jeremy was then paraded from camp to camp throughout Vietnam. However, Grant noted that the VC always seem to be heading in a northerly direction, and he had no intention of ending up a P.O.W. in North Vietnam.
After the strange episode, Major Dong took particular pleasure in torturing and abusing Grant. Dong felt as if he had shamed himself in front of his men and blamed Jeremy for his Faux-pas (mistake). He took singular delight in running a six-foot length of bamboo behind Grant’s back, and tying Grant’s hands in such a fashion that any downward movement would cause excruciating pain. Dong would then fasten another rope around his neck and ankles causing him to choke whenever he fell. Jeremy had endured this abuse for over three months; his mind was becoming a blur of green hell, pain and agony. Grant knew that if he allowed his mind to wander too much, he would never escape this inferno. At this point, Jeremy did not know which part of his dream he was in. The violent thoughts rolled into each other in his hapless brain. His torment continued as he relived his capture by Major Dong.
One remote VC camp after another became a nightmare of renewed hell and abuse. Grant tried in vain to maintain his sanity by using every trick in the book. Focusing on one subject, he had found, helped his concentration. He repeatedly recited poetry or verses, and found that a poignant verse he had written during his first tour caused him to temporarily forget the pain.
Grant’s mind wandered. His thoughts drifted like a butterfly on LSD. His soul floated between the stark realism of Vietnam, and the pleasant thoughts of a long-lost past, and the current events in Afghanistan. His dreams switched between the reality of his existing situation, and events which occurred over twenty years ago. During this particularly troublesome situation, Jeremy had difficulty in sorting out his dreams. His restless spirit would stray between dreams, and he seemed to lose touch with reality.
Although he was asleep, he continuously tried to focus on events and occurrences that were of particular significance to him. His mind was being continually torn apart by conflicting emotions and feelings. Even in his sleep, he was so confused that he was usually unable to achieve a deep REM state. After many hours of troubling dreams, finally succumbing to mental exhaustion, he fell into a deep REM sleep. His mind drifted into a semi-hypnotic trance.
Jeremy gradually escaped his torturer, and began dreaming and focusing on a training class that he had taken at Ft. Bragg, years earlier as a young second lieutenant. For some unknown reason his entire mental capacity was now concentrated on this event which took place so many years ago. Pleasant experiences were replacing the traumatic ones with Major Dong.
His Escape and Evasion class (E&E) had started routinely enough, but one idea clearly stuck in Grant’s mind, “S.U.R.V.I.V.A.L. and Repetition.” Grant’s sole thought was now concentrated on his former instructor, and what he had taught him.
“One of the paramount experiences that hundreds of servicemen learned during WWII and Korea was that SURVIVAL was a matter of mental outlook. If you had the will to survive, you would do so! Another valuable tool was repetition and concentration. Be obstinate and more determined than the enemy and you will win the battle of wills!”
His instructor, Sergeant First Class (SFC) Donald Glenn Murchison, AKA “DG” (Dead Guy), a second-generation Scotsman from Dumfries, Scotland, had instructed his students to attempt and focus on one subject, and keep repeating this thought over and over and over. SFC Murchison had drummed into their heads that every soldier might experience emotional problems resulting from fear, anxiety, loneliness and boredom. Not only would they experience these mental problems, but they might also be subject to hunger, pain, severe wounds, and thirst. This combination of mental and physical torture could possibly overcome their strongest intentions. The words SURVIVAL and REPETITION kept appearing in Jeremy’s thoughts. Jeremy kept hearing SFC Murchison scream at them, “SURVIVAL is spelled:
S ize up the situation
U ndue haste makes waste
R emember where you are
V anquish fear and panic
I mprovise
V alue living
A ct like the natives
L earn basic skills
“You will forget the, “New Testament,” and memorize the Department of the Army Field Manual, FM 21-76, SURVIVAL. Is that understood, gentlemen?” Jeremy’s dreams were so realistic that he was transported back over and over again to Fort Bragg.
Grant’s memories of SFC Murchison were always full of great esteem and respect. His time spent there now appeared like stories in a DC Comic book, short stories full of action and adventure. Jeremy’s exhausted mind played tricks on him. Just when things were getting good or bad, the story line would shift. After a series of flashbacks his dream finally settled into an epic adventure.
“DG’s”
