Another Chance

I had been anticipating the visit by the VC guard. He would be coming by my bamboo cage shortly. I had been able to fashion a weapon -- a rigid slat of bamboo, about one-foot long, that I had carefully sharpened on a rock under my jail. I had been living in this tiny cage for weeks, withstanding torture and mistreatment. Every night, a VC guard came by every two hours and I had a plan when came again. I heard his footsteps. I curled up in the corner of the 4-foot cage, compressing myself into the smallest package possible. The guard poked his stick into my cage as usual. But this time, instead of poking me, his stick hit nothing. He squatted down to peer into my cage. With my left hand, I jerked on his stick, pulling him off balance. Then I shoved the sharpened stick through the bars into his neck, just below the Adam's apple. It only took a minute for him to die, although his blood had gone everywhere. The body fell close enough to the cage that I was able to retrieve his gun - a .38 caliber Chinese pistol. I fired a round into the wooden latch on the door, gave the door a kick and I was free. The other VC would have heard the shot and they would be coming fast. My legs were tight. I rarely had a chance to straighten them while I was in captivity. But I was charged on adrenalin and I knew if I couldn't run, I would die. After about 50 paces, I was flying fast. The jungle trail was just ahead. The other VC guards had found the body and they were looking for me. I heard gunfire and bullets whizzing through the vegetation around me. I hit the trail sprinting. The full moon helped me to see the way. The VC fired off more wild shots into the jungle. They would pursue me for a while and give up. I was too fast, too afraid, running like a wild man. And I was truly wild, probably crazy, too. After six weeks in a VC prison camp without any human contact, outside my torturers, I knew I was not in great mental health. So I ran.