They told me to strip. I knew the hose was coming next. Yawn. They did their level best to irritate me and became increasingly frustrated by my stone face. Then one of them said "shave him dry, he's tough." When one came up behind me and choked me with a billy club, I decided it was time for decisive action. I don't remember what I did exactly, it was all a blur, sort of like the way your knee jerks when you get your reflexes tested. They were sprawled out on the floor. Fight, check. Time for flight.
I grabbed my knife and ran out of the police station, knocked a guy off his dirt bike, and headed for Portland. I knew I was now a wanted man but given all the practice I had outsmarting people trying to kill me in Vietnam, I wasn't too worried. Being an American myself, it was easy to predict what the cops were going to do.
All I had to do was get on a bus headed for Hagerstown. Once I got to Portland, I'd shave my hair and otherwise disguise myself. I'd have to steal or beg enough to buy a bus ticket though. That part wouldn't be too hard though. Without my wallet, I had no money and no ID. I also had no warm clothes and still hadn't eaten. When, it rains, it pours. At least I didn't have to worry about hypothermia in the jungle.
When I least expected it, I heard sirens and the roar of a cop car engine. Good lord, this son of a bitch is nuttier than squirrel turd! What is it with fat, small-town sheriffs? You'd think unlimited donuts would keep them happy. But I digress. Often.
Well, driving a car fast on uneven ground is asking for trouble, and sure enough, Sheriff Numbnuts flipped his car. Not sure how he got elected sheriff, but it certainly wasn't on the basis of intelligence. Up ahead, I could see state troopers and a roadblock. Well, at least they're not shooting at me. Yet. At this point, I kind of wished I had just left town or let them shave me. I'd have spent a night in comfy American jail, where they give you decent food and try not to kill you. Sometimes it really is just easier to let morons and assholes win, I just never liked doing it. So much hardship for so long. And for what?
I ditched the bike and ran into the woods. Thank god I had the presence of mind to get my knife back. But not enough to grab my wallet. I got so used to not having one overseas that I still hadn't got into the habit. Whatever, time to find or make some warm clothes. I came across an abandoned cabin. It was probably some old coot's bomb shelter or something. Jackpot. There was even some canned food inside and none were bulging from botulism bacteria. Here's a cool trick: you can open a can without a can opener by rubbing it on a hard surface. The cans are sealed with a rolled seam, which isn't very strong or thick, but easy and cheap to make quickly. Once I rubbed off enough the seam, I could pry off the lids with my knife. Awesome, I ate my fill. Nothing's better that satisfying your hunger through your wits. It's the best sauce in the world. I didn't find any clothes, but I did find a gunny sack and some rope. I used them to fashion a tunic and a belt. I was tempted to yell out "I'm Spartacus!" at that moment. By the way, who just leaves rope and gunny sacks lying around? It was like something out of a movie.
OK, now it was time to strategize. As long as I stayed in the woods, I had all the advantages. If I could stay hidden here for a week or two, they'd stop looking for me and I could escape. And that was the moment when I heard the helicopter, and I'm pretty sure it wasn't some guy taking a flying lesson. Normally, I like the sound of helicopters, but not when I'm in survival mode. I heard the rumble of waterfall in the distance, so I headed for that. I'd hide there til after dark and then spend the night in the cabin. I had food, clothing, shelter, and a knife. That's about all I need to stay alive. What I really missed, besides Alexandra, was music. This is when it's nice to have a good memory. When I was stranded at that village, I spent a lot of time thinking about my favorite songs. Same deal when I was at the outpost. Music is not essential for life, but it sure makes it more pleasant.
I reached the waterfall and looked for a good place to hide. There was a small cave of sorts behind the waterfall, so I went in there. Then I heard dogs barking. I had forgotten about dogs. The enemy didn't use them in Vietnam. I was not eager to find out if Fido truly was man's best friend. I peeked out from my hidey hole and saw two cops, one with a bloodhound. Fuck. It's hard to exaggerate how good a sense of smell they have. Say what you will about redneck hunters, they know how to train dogs. OK, time for a new plan. Wait for them to get close, disable them, take anything useful, tie up the dog close enough to the water so it can drink, run like hell deeper into the woods.
There was another blur of violence, but I'm pretty sure I didn't stab anyone. I stole the cop's radio. It was my old friend the AN/PRC-77 Army radio. He must have borrowed it from the National Guard or something. And then it hit me. Damn, the weekend warriors are getting in on the action too. I heard the helicopter again. Time to make myself scarce. Heading uphill was logical, as it would give me the high ground and tire them out if anyone else came in to chase after me. Plenty of cover and concealment too. I scored a lighter at the cabin and used to make a fire once it got real dark and I didn't hear the helicopter anymore. I was getting nice and toasty when the radio crackled to life.
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