Chapter 7: Making Friends and Enemies

Captain Joel Keller USMC awoke from the same nightmare he'd had for the past three months. Stationed at Corpus Christi's Naval Air Station, his official duties were that of instructor. Unofficially, he was being treated for liver flukes and shell shock. In just a couple of years, the diagnoses would be changed to Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and, along with it would come a lessening of the stigma attached to his condition. Captain Keller was a decorated Marine pilot and it would not do to have such a hero stigmatized by such an ignominious diagnosis that so many in the military have come to associate with plain cowardice.

He was anything but a coward. Time and again, in the air over Vietnam and Cambodia, he had proven that he wasn't. He'd flown his A-6 Intruder with skill completing his mission assignments with aircraft so damaged by enemy fire that it's return to base was attributed either to a miracle or to Capt. Keller's skill as a pilot. When his plane was taxiing out to the runway prior to a mission, the grounds crew would take bets ranging from how many holes would be in the plane when it returned or if it would return at all. One day, the grounds crew that bet against the return won. It was a bet that nobody felt like collecting on.

The A-6 carried a two man crew, the pilot and the bombardier/navigator. Keller had flown with four different bombardiers until he found one that was either brave enough or crazy enough to keep flying with him. Captain Carlos Ortiz was as taciturn as he was methodical. Others in the seat next to him had engaged in conversation, talked about family and girls back home, and, when the surface to air missiles flew, screamed at him to get them the hell out of there. Ortiz, on the other hand, just did his job quietly and efficiently, only communicating with Keller when his duties required him to. Keller liked him a lot.

In the early months of 1970, General Westmoreland had convinced President Nixon that they were at a decided disadvantage since the American forces in Viet Nam were respecting the proclaimed neutrality of the Cambodian government which did nothing to deter the presence of the North Vietnamese Army and the Viet Cong using the lands along their eastern border as a refuge and a staging area for raids into the south. With Nixon's new policy of Vietnamization, it was decided that the threat posed by having enemy forces enjoying a safe haven in Cambodia needed to be eliminated. A series of operations were planned for the middle part of the year.

Captains Keller and Ortiz were ordered to fly their A-6 across the border on a reconnaissance mission to ascertain enemy locations and strength. As they were going through their pre-flight check, Ortiz turned to Keller and said in a matter of fact way, "I'm going to die today." The unusual statement coupled with the unusual loquacity unsettled Keller.

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm not sure about you. But I'm sure about me.", answered the Bombardier

Keller sat there wondering if he should request another bombardier for the mission when Ortiz spoke up again, "It's just my time."

Nothing more was said about it for the rest of the mission. Shortly after crossing the Cambodian border, a surface to air missile hit them amidship and Keller had mere seconds to order the ejection of the two. They both made it safely to ground in the middle of a rice paddy. They were almost safely to the jungle when a rocket blast hit the tree in front of them. The concussion from the blast knocked Keller unconscious. He woke up when he felt someone tugging his pants off. When he looked to his right, he could see Ortiz being pulled up to a kneeling position as his throat was cut. Enraged, Keller tried to get to his feet to get at the bastards but was clubbed from behind and rendered unconscious yet again.

When he awakened again, he was naked and in a deep pit. He could hear activity above him.He surmised that he was in some sort of camp. There was occasional laughter and some staccato commands barked out in Vietnamese. Keller cursed himself for not having taken the trouble to try and learn the language better. From what he could make out, he was correct that this was a military camp. He was scared out of his wits wondering what they were going to do to him. The occasional screams of someone obviously being tortured and questioned immediately above him did nothing to calm him down. On the third day, a Viet Cong soldier peered over the edge and in pidgin English told him that he was to be transferred north the next day.

That night, Keller woke with a start, shuddering and flailing at his naked body, certain that a snake had made its way down into the pit and was slithering over him. What he thought was a snake, turned out to be a length of rope. Keller tested the rope and found that it was fastened tightly to something above. It took him three tries in his weakened condition but he was finally able to crawl out of the pit. When he got to the top, he saw the person who he had heard screaming from being tortured. It was a young Cambodian boy. Keller figured he couldn't be more than seventeen years old. He wondered what on earth a teenage boy knew that would warrant his being tortured. He could see that the boy had a steel collar around his neck that was attached by a chain to a nearby tree. Somehow, the boy had contrived to get hold of a rope, tie it to the tree, and throw it down into the pit. The boy was on his knees before Keller, his hands clasped in supplication, his eyes pleading to Keller to be freed and taken with him.

Keller tried for the better part of an hour to get the chain free from either the tree or the collar. Every passing second increased the likelihood that they would be discovered. When Keller was certain that there were no other options, he held the boy in his arms and thanked him for his freedom. That's the part of the nightmare where Keller always woke up; right before he broke the boy's neck.

On the way out of the camp, he was able to steal a bayonet and a cold pot of cooked rice. The pot was abandoned sometime the second day. For the next twelve days he ate grubs and insects and drank whatever water he could find. At one of those watering places, he got liver flukes. When night fell, he found refuge as high as he could up in a tree. He'd heard that they were rare but there was the occasional tiger in that area of the world.

After two weeks and one hundred and sixty kilometers, Keller stumbled out of the jungle near a forward base occupied by American forces. He was near starvation and completely naked except for the stolen sandals on his feet. Keller was showered, deloused, fed and clothed in fatigues that had been scrounged from the base's occupants. He was then was sent back to a hospital in Saigon to recover. While there, it was determined that it would be unsafe to send him on further combat missions. Shortly thereafter, Capt. Keller was assigned to the Naval Air Station in Corpus Christi as a classroom instructor. The restoration of his flying privileges, if they were to ever be restored, would be some time away.

Keller had no classes today and decided to spend the day taking advantage of the hospitality at the country club in Corpus Christi. The base had a golf course but the one at the country club had been designed by the famous Robert Trent Jones in 1924. It wasn't his best effort to be sure and, while Robert Trent Jones never bragged about having designed the course in Corpus Christi, the club made certain that every opportunity was taken to mention that the premier course designer of the century had laid his hand to the eighteen hole course at the club. The Corpus Christi Country Club gave honorary membership status to members of the clergy and officers in the military. Today would be Capt. Keller's first day to take them up on their hospitality.

Katherine pulled into her reserved parking space and she and Robert exited the Cabriolet.

"First", she said, "we must get to the pro shop and get you fitted for a set of clubs and some shoes and proper golfing attire."

Robert wondered if they were going to have to have a frank discussion as to what constituted 'proper' golfing attire. He'd seen Chou Fleur shortly before they left and noticed that the dog's nails and hair ribbons had been changed to match Katherine's green summer dress, complete with tiny polka dots. The Koch's hospitality aside, he wasn't about to allow Katherine to make him another accessory in her life. The need for it hadn't come up, but he was determined that, if and when it did, he would be ready to put his foot down. In the pro shop, Robert was relieved to discover that he was to be allowed to pick out his own clothes. Katherine left him there with instructions to the club's pro to fit Robert for a set of clubs and then allow him to sign for it all.