P. O. W. by Donald E. Zlotnik Read Free Book Online Page A

jungle trail with Spencer Barnett’s CAR-15 slung over his right shoulder. The short version
     of the M-16 rifle was perfectly designed for the thick jungles of the highlands. The telescoping stock could be pulled out
     and the weapon selector switch placed on semiautomatic, or else the weapon could be used as a compact, fully automatic submachine
     gun. James smiled to himself as he walked between the NVA company commander and the unit’s first sergeant. He was recalling
     the first time Spencer Barnett had seen him carrying the weapon. His ex-teammate had literally thrown himself against the
     bars of his cage and screamed curses at him. It served the uppity white trash right to have the weapon taken away from him.
     Sergeant McDonald had no right giving Woods and Barnett their own CAR-15s after they had graduated from the Re-condo School
     in Nha Trang. He had graduated too, and with honors! That was the way it was with white people: they always took care of each
     other and shit on the black and colored people of the world! James’s smile changed to a full-mouthed grin. Who had the CAR-15
     now?
    The North Vietnamese column he was part of moved at a casual pace down the jungle road that would have been a trail in a more
     developed country. NVA engineers had built the road running next to the Rao Lao River to link up with Highway 547 in South
     Vietnam, cutting the A Shau Valley in half and providing high-speed access to the prized city of Da Nang. Groups of NVA soldiers
     passed James’s unit riding bicycles on their return trips to the NVA supply depots in Laos. The NVA modified the bikes to
     carry huge loads of ammunition and supplies to their troops in the south by removing the seat and placing the load where the
     man would normally ride. The soldier would walk next to the bike and steer it using a modified bar across the handlebars.
    James had learned a great deal about the NVA in just the short couple of weeks he had agreed to work with them against American
     units. The NVA traveled mostly at night down well-used trails and roads. The jungle was used only to get into and out of major
     command or supply areas in the south. The American units spent almost all of their time humping through the heavy jungle sounding
     like an old steam engine as they hacked their way through the virgin terrain. The NVA were
never
taken by surprise if the American unit was larger than a squad. James wondered how much the American intelligence people
     would pay him for what he knew about NVA small-unit operations; it could probably change the results of the Vietnam War.
    The North Vietnamese commander stopped his company and gave orders for his men to fill their canteens and eat. James found
     himself a comfortable spot to sit next to a large tree and removed his nylon backpack. He opened a side pocket and took out
     a can of potatoes and beef. Everything James wore was authentic American equipment, down to his underwear. He was supplied
     with gear that had been taken off American dead and POWs. The only thing that James did not wear was camouflage paint, and
     there was a reason for that: the NVA wanted the fact that he was a black man to be very obvious to anyone they encountered
     once they reached the Laotian–South Vietnamese border.
    James leaned back against the tree and ate his can of C-rations alone. The NVA soldiers stayed away from him, and only the
     first sergeant or the company commander would even bother talking to him. James liked it when the sergeant gave him his orders,
     because the man spoke almost letter-perfect English—in fact, the North Vietnamese spoke English better than he did.
    Sweat rolled down in his eyes, and he used the back of his hand to wipe it away. He started thinking of home, back in Detroit,
     Michigan, where he had been raised in a white-built ghetto that had been designed to contain the black people and keep them
     all together, below 8 Mile Road in the city. The whites had always