At long last, the bayonet came off. Super. Guns run out of bullets, but knives never run out of stab. I climbed over the wall, ran for the tree line, and once there, looked up for the southern cross constellation. Vietnam is below the equator and so the north star is not visible there, but the southern cross constellation is. It's featured on the flags of Australia and New Zealand. Once I saw it, OK cool. I know which way to run now. That constellation points towards the south star, Sigma Octantis, in a similar way that the Big Dipper points towards the north star. This was the second time astronomy came in useful during my time in the Army.
I found a river and followed it. Follow any body of water long enough and you will find people. It's a trick I learned from reading various survival stories as a boy. Also, there is less vegetation to get through if you follow a river. As dawn broke, I came upon a village and saw some women going down to the river to fetch water.
It was hard to tell if they were friendly or enemy, so I hid in the bushes near them for a while and listened to them talk. I was so hungry and thirsty; I was very close to just straight up asking them for help. As they fetched water, I listened to them chat very closely. As soon as I heard one of the women say "well, I think Ho Chi Minh is son of a bitch", I knew I had reached a friendly village. I came out from behind the bushes and begged for help with the best Vietnamese I could muster. I explained that I was an American soldier here to fight the communists, that I had been captured and tortured, and had narrowly escaped. They recognized my clothes as being the uniform of an NVA soldier which helped my case more than anything I said.
"Come with us" said one of the women. They took me back to hut, checked me for wounds, and gave me tea and a rice ball. It tasted so good. "Where are you headed?" asked another. I told her I'm heading for Da Nang, where the big American base is. "That's a long way from here" she replied. "Why not stay with us for a while and recover? You're safe here. We're south of the DMZ and American aircraft fly over our village often" she continued. That was enough to reassure me, though the Army would consider me missing in action and Truman would be worried sick about me. Whatever, I thought. He's a big boy and surely went through worse during WW2.
The villagers were of course very curious about me and asked me a lot of questions. In many cases, I wasn't sure what to say. I told them I had been in the Central Highlands where I had been helping a village of Montagnards fight the communists. "How long have you been in Vietnam?" asked a villager. "About two and a half years, and I'm looking forward to going home for good" I responded. "Do you think the communists will win the war?" asked another. "Maybe, but I did everything I could and then some to stop that from happening. I'm not a general and have no say over the big strategy", I explained. "My time in the Army is almost over and I just want to get home alive", I added. It's best to avoid controversial subjects with people you don't know well, and those subjects are religion, politics, and money.
When I seemed healthy enough, they asked me to help out in the village. I chopped firewood, fetched water, and helped harvest the rice. There was no opium or marijuana to be had in the village and that was good for me. I switched to Vietnamese moonshine and beer. I drank some moonshine back in West Virginia to celebrate my college graduation. I didn't care much for alcohol back then because I was focused on my studies. In college, it was the same except it was beer instead of moonshine. It took the edge off, but it was very hard to get when I was in various training schools for the Army, so I was basically straight edge in those days. When I got to the outpost in Vietnam, my stress level went way up, and I needed a way to cope. I knew I needed to get off the junk eventually anyone, so the village was a place to switch my addictions. Call it jungle rehab.
Since it was such a long way to Da Nang and US aircraft flew over the village often, I decided to spell out SOS in really big letters by planting bamboo in a clearing. Bamboo grows really fast; some species as fast as a meter per day. A few days, later I heard a chopper coming, so I pushed some of the stalks aside, stood in the middle of the O, and waved my arms. I must have looked like a dancing period in an O to the pilot. The door gunner pointed at me and waved back. I left the bamboo and moved to where the chopper was landing. To this day, I love the sound of helicopters. For me, it's the sound of relief and safety. They flew me back to Da Nang in a jiffy. I was about to show the pilot my dog tags because he wouldn't hear me over the sound of the engine. He yelled back "don't worry, man lots of guys have been looking for you. Thank god you're alive."
I wonder how long that big bamboo SOS stayed visible. I'm sure word got around about it and it was a local landmark for a while. And so I became a minor celebrity amongst US troops in Vietnam.
Truman was waiting for me on the helipad. We saluted each other.
"Tommy, you're taking years off my life with this shit."
"Sorry, sir. My leave plans took an unexpected turn."
"OK, executive decision. You're done. You'll be hanging out here in a safe rear area until your tour is up."
I can't say was looking forward to three months of pushing paper at Da Nang, but I couldn't argue the logic of his decision. Maybe I could something interesting to do.
"Understood, sir. I'll try to make myself useful."
"Don't try too hard. That's an order too. Dismissed!"
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