Chapter 13: Chapter 13 – American POW/MIA Camps Are on the Jungle Trees

rapped inside a net hanging from a fig tree, I look through the net and see a thick root running from the treetop to the ground, across the ground, and all the way into Ho Chi Minh Trail. The root must contain a spring mechanism that has pulled the net carrying me up this tree.

I look around me and through the mass of leaves. The light filtering into the tree reveals a man in army fatigues lying on his back in a hammock, made of the same material as that of my net. The hammock is hanging on the same tree where I'm staying.

I could feel my heart pounding as I peer through the dimness and see a soldier snoozing in the tree, his hands tied to the hammock's edges, and his shackled feet clad in army boots sticking out of the torn hammock cords. We're not alone – this tree is filled with hammocks carrying soldiers.

I survey beyond the tree, and see more hammocks hanging on the surrounding trees. In the distance, the Skyscraper Tree stands high and majestic against the clear blue sky. I wonder if Hoa and Tin are still waiting for me at the quay, or in the nets hanging in some other trees, or even in this very tree. I cry out in distress, "Hoa. Tin." No answer.

I stare at the man. "Can you at least try to get out of the hammock and help me please?"

He remains silent and lying still, his closed eyelids fluttering and his chest moving up and down. Once, he flicks his eyes open and then quickly closes them.

My feet are above his head, so I kick toward it, but the taut net prevents my foot from reaching it. He's so weird. Maybe he thinks I am his enemy, and that only the other people lying in the hammocks are his allies in fight. But I'm standing in a standing hammock, so I'm his ally, too. How can he rudely ignore a new captive? I bounce on my feet and slam my foot down on his head, but my foot's impact with his head hasn't had an effect upon him. 

He turns his face toward me, and look at me with such intensity that it makes me nervous. He says, "Where're your parents?"

I say, "My mom, Thu, is at home and probably has no clue where I am. My dad was an American Army Officer, probably a POW/MIA Officer. Can I be called a POW? This is during the war, and I'm a prisoner on a tree, so I'm qualified to be named a Prisoner of War. Is that right?"

He runs his palm over his eyes. "I'm an American POW. But what happened that you were pulled up the tree?"

I say, "The VCs have booby-trapped me with the net in which I'm staying." I pause, deciding if I can trust him. "Hammocks on trees are for wounded VCs. How did you get the privilege of lying in a hammock hanging in a tree? Are you a VC spy?"

He shakes his head. "The VCs captured me after I had been wounded. They tied me up and put me up here. We're in a VC Tree Hospital. Only wounded American POWs are held in this tree."

"Oh, why would they put me in this tree hospital?" I say.

He takes a heavy breath. "Probably they think you're an American kid spy."

I say, "Being a spy may be a good idea, come to think of it. I love to be a CIA spy, so that I can use the CIA's intelligence to find my dad. How did you get wounded?"

He scrunches his forehead, and then looks at me very carefully again, but this time in a relieved manner. "In Operation Crimp, The U.S. Eagle Support helicopters had sprayed herbicidal chemical Agent Orange in the Iron Triangle Forest, to remove the leaves from the trees and plants, destroy VCs' crops, and improve observation of VC activity.

"There were no shadows for the VCs to hide in, so they cleared out of the forest. I moved into the forest, along with a Combat Engineer unit and a Sapper unit, of the U.S. Marine Corps. The Combat Engineers had cleared a path through a minefield, and the Sappers were detecting and disarming mines, to create a safe path for troops and equipment. 

"The VCs ambushed us from the underground tunnels, from where they shot rifles up through the ground holes. We scattered and ran toward the trees to take cover. A shrapnel shell exploded. Fortunately the force of the blast only threw me into the rice paddy in the Assassin Jungle."

"You were lucky you didn't get killed," I say, thinking this wounded POW and the wounded soldier in the Iron Triangle Forest may be the same person. "Is your name Tom?"

He says, "Tom and Lieutenant General Marv…uh …Marvin…What's happening in my head? One moment I remember in details, but the next moment recall in snatches. What did you ask me? Tom fell…captured. I tried…But he was…dead. Not..."

I can't believe what I'm hearing. "What were you trying to do with Tom?"

He breathes hard. "Some Combat Engineers and Sappers had waded out of the rice paddy, and moved into the forest. One moment Tom was ahead of them, and the next moment he was on the ground being attended by the engineers. He must be dead."

I say, "No, he was still alive, and flown by helicopter toward the Mekong Delta." 

The POW opens his eyes wide. "Mekong Delta River, We were in cages in the river." He closes his eyes, shaking his head and breathing fast. He remains quiet, as if worn out from talking.

"What happened next?" I say.

He opens his eyes, scowling. "I dropped underwater at an eddy sinkhole in the rice paddy. When I resurfaced, I saw bullets whizzing over the paddy. The rest of the Combat Engineer Unit and Sapper Unit scrambled to get away, their hands pulling along a metal cable strung across the paddy.

"Standing on the dike of the paddy, the Chief of Engineers shouted into his radio clipped onto the breast pocket, 'This is Ricepaddy Pounder Unit. We are at the rice paddy in the Assassin Jungle. We're getting away from the rice paddy. I need a dust-off for a wounded troop. Mark target to identify for rescue: The dike across the rice paddy in the Assassin Jungle, on the side facing the Iron Triangle Forest. Over.'"

The POW pauses, as if listening, and then continues, "A Sikorsky HH-60W Combat Rescue Helicopter hovered over the dike while I was still at the sinkhole. I held my arms high and waved.

"A paratrooper jumped out of the helicopter, and signal flares went up in the air, illuminating the area. I could only move by grabbing the rice stalks and pulling myself on them toward the plane. A rope ladder was dropped down for me, and I reached my hand up to catch it, but the helicopter flew away as shots rang out."

"Did the plane come back for you?" I say.

His face turns red. "As the plane turned around and headed back, a VC hollered, 'American Down.' Other VCs rushed out and swarmed over the dike, their guns pointing at me. I was captured."

"Why did they tie your hands and feet?" I say.

"They do that to all POWs, to prevent any escape attempt," he says.

"Do they stow other things on the hammocks, or just POWs?" I say.

"They also store spare medical supplies, machine guns, grenades, and mortar shells," he says.

"Why did you act as if you were a dummy when I was first pulled up the tree?" I say.

A smug smile comes to his face. "Bring your ear close to me so that I don't have to speak aloud," he says, waiting.

I crouch down and tilt my head, trying to get my ear as close to him as I can.

He says, "I first acted in such a manner because I thought the VCs might be at the tree. Whenever I have detected a hint of the VCs coming around to this tree, I pretend to be in a fog and go crazy, to avoid being questioned. They keep looking for a chance to interrogate me when I look alert. They would hold jangling dog tags before my eyes, and watch for my reactions that give me away.

I think about Dad. He may be on this tree, but I don't know his name. I call aloud, "Is there a Tom on this tree?"

No answer.

The POW opens his eyes. "The VC spies often sneak to the trees, carrying ladders. They brace the ladders against the tree trunks, and climb up the ladders and perch on the rungs, to eavesdrop on the POWs' communications."

"They may be eavesdropping on our conversation right now," I say.

He nods and then shakes his head. "More likely they're meeting to discuss the imminent bombing, aimed at the Assassin Jungle, by the American Army."

"How can you be sure that an imminent bombing of the Assassin Jungle is coming?" I say." 

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He hesitates a moment, staring at me, and then says, "A VC eavesdropper sat astride a branch thick with leaves above me, and he was carrying electronic spying gear, which collects radio communications from the US Intelligence Radar. The screen of the spy equipment was tilted downward, and it enabled me to see the intercepted signals indicating the American Army will soon bomb the Assassin Jungle."

Oh, no. Not with me in it. What is Mom going to do if I can never go home anymore? I say, "What are the VCs going to do with the POWs on the trees in the Assassin Jungle?" 

He looks troubled. "The VCs haven't known that I can understand Vietnamese. I also act as an interpreter. The VCs treat me as a lunatic, so they usually speak in Vietnamese without reserve when I'm around. I heard them say they wanted to move the POWs away from this area of the jungle before the bombing begins. This would be the second time they have to transfer the POWs."

"What happened the first time?" I say.

He says. "In a joint special operations mission called Operation Ivory Coast, the American Green Berets, Army Rangers, Delta Force, and Pararescue Jumpers joined in the mission to rescue U.S. Prisoners of War in Vietnam. The joined forces rehearsed the operation at Eglin Air Force Base, Florida. The operation involved a fleet of 120 aircraft and 4 aircraft carriers.

"On the day of the rescue operation, the AH-1Z Viper Attack helicopters dropped U.S. Navy boats into the ocean at Thienchua International Seaport. Then the U.S. Marines and Navy SEALs fast-roped down into the boats from the helicopters.

"While descending from the helicopters, the Marines dropped flare bombs giving out flames in different colors, and shot rounds of blank bullets ricocheting with theater sound effect, to scare the VCs out of their wits.  Also, while the Marines descending from the helicopters hovering in a line, an extra-large American flag rolled open across the fast ropes. On the flag, there was printed a silhouette of a prisoner of war before barbed wire and a guard tower. The word "POW/MIA" appeared above the silhouette, and the words "You Are Not Forgotten" appeared below the silhouette.   

"The Combat Search and Rescue teams attacked the 12,000 VC troops, to draw them away from the Hanoi Hilton Hotel, nicknamed for the biggest POW Camp, situated on the bank of the Mekong Delta River.

"The Combat Search and Rescue teams found the camp empty. The VCs had moved the 500 POWs away from the camp and into the Assassin Jungle, put them in hammocks, and hoisted the hammocks up into the trees with pulleys."

I say, "Why do you act so indifferent despite the coming bombing? Don't you even care for the survival of your own, and of the others on the trees? Oh yes, your head must not be working right from being wounded."

A voice in the tree says, "He's being incoherent again, babbling to himself and talking crazy all the time over there. Please disregard his stories. They're baloney."

Others join in putting him down for what they regard as foolish talking.

I look back at him. "Please don't give up on life and freedom. Now you really need to get your head together and try to figure out how to get me out of the net. When I'm free from the net, I'll tell the Vietnamese Army Commander, at the Cu Chi Army Base, about the American POWs in hammocks hanging on the trees in the Assassin Jungle."

He jiggles his hands and feet. "I can't break free of the shackles."

I sigh. "Has the U.S. Army trained you how to get another prisoner out of a net, while you are lying in a hammock, wounded and restrained with shackles? When I get out of the net with your help, I'll run to the field hospital to get help for you. I'll ask the American Ambassador to inform President Truman about the American POWs being imprisoned in the Assassin Jungle. No doubt President of the United States will order the Pentagon to send the U.S. Special Operation Force Commandos to rescue the POWs."

He says, "No I've never been trained in rescuing a prisoner from a net." 

"I give up!" I say, looking across the Assassin Jungle and the Iron Triangle Forest to the Skyscraper Tree. The sound of rope snapping makes me look back down at him.

He looks cheerful, opening and closing his hand, saying, "I was able to get one hand free." He taps his fingers on his shirt pocket and pulls out a cigarette lighter. He moves his hand holding the lighter towards my feet, with his thumb that keeps flicking on the lighter.

"What're you doing?" I say.

He says, "I'm trying to burn a hole in the net so that you can get out."

The melting plastic cords splattering hot wax onto my feet, I yelp, "Ouch, you are burning my feet."

Then the lighter runs out of fuel.

I just roll my eyes and reach inside my pocket. "Wait, I think I can cut the net cords with this metal wedge."

He stares at the wedge, unblinking. "Where did you get it?"

"An old woman gave it to me," I say.

"The old woman who lives near the Gold Nuggets River?" he says.

"Yes. You know her?" I say.

He says, "Oh, never mind. Did she tell you where she got the wedge?"

I say, "She said she found it in the Skyscraper Tree trunk,"

He frowns and shakes his head, saying, "That's not where it should be." Then covering his head with his hand, he says, "Can I see it? Please drop the wedge into my hammock. Try to avoid my head if you can."   

I drop the wedge through the net without being able to aim very well, and the wedge lands between his jaw and shoulder.

He studies the wedge, cheering up. "This wedge has the name MARK on it. I wonder where the one with the name TOM on it is."

"I have that wedge, too," I say. "A boy, kidnapped by the VCs, used the wedge with the name TOM on it, to dig holes in the banks of the Gold Nuggets River for the VCs."

"I want to see that wedge, too. Can you please throw it down?"

I throw the second wedge down.

He looks at both wedges. "MARK and TOM are code names. MARK is my code name. TOM is the code name of Lieutenant General Melvin Stilwell who fought in the victorious Battle of Saigon, on the Hamburger Hill."

I say, "Oh my God, Lieutenant General Melvin Stilwell is the dad of the kidnaped boy who gave me the TOM wedge. But wait, MARK is your code name, so what's your real name?"

He scrunches his forehead and narrows his eyes. "My name is…," he pauses, shaking his head. "The VCs put me in the Chilling Chamber, making me forget certain details."

I say, "So is it possible that the wounded soldier named Tom and Lieutenant General Melvin Stilwell is the same person?"

He shakes his head with a look of frustration in his eyes. "At times, I get mixed up about names and sequence of events. You're right. My mind is not working right. But wait, I just recall something else.

"Dragon Kingdom had the documents related to their work of COVID virus creation, and the VCs helped their Dragon Kingdom hosts to hide the documents in a Cu Chi tunnel. Tom and I discovered the location where the documents were buried, and we drew a map together. We made two identical wedges and hid half of the map in each wedge. We hid the wedges in a spot we thought hard to find, but they went missing.

The Assassin jungle is plunged into darkness. I toss about in the net from the boredom, peering into the darkness, trying to deal with the unknown in whatever way I know how, but nothing is working.

I doze off and wake up many times throughout the night.

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