P. O. W. by Donald E. Zlotnik Page A

money to Woods. “Here, make out a money order and send this
     to those kids. Tell the colonel to buy them something nice and let them know that it’s from Tousaint Simpson….” He thought
     for a second and added, “Have him ask them if they still remember me from An Khe.”
    Woods took the money. “Thanks! I’ll do that!”
    Shaw looked over at Simpson with an expression on his face that said the soldier had just thrown two thousand dollars out
     of the truck.
    Colonel Sinclair left the hospital and drove back to the XXIV Corps Headquarters where he was staying while he was in Da Nang.
     He was sharing a room with one of his classmates.
    The colonel spoke to the driver. “Drop me off in front of my BOQ and you can turn the jeep in to the motor pool…. Thanks.”
     The soldier nodded his head and smiled. He had a trip ticket that was good for the rest of the day and he was going to use
     it. A steambath and a couple of cold Ba-Moui-Ba beers would hit the spot.
    Colonel Sinclair hurried over the cement sidewalk to the building, saluting a group of NCOs on the way. He entered through
     the rear door and nearly knocked his roommate down.
    “What’s the rush, Reggie?”
    “Sorry, Clyde…. I want to change jackets and find a secure voice radio. Do you know where I could use one?”
    “Sure… We’ve got a couple secure radios in the G-3 shop…. Who do you want to call?”
    “I need to talk to Jack Seacourt back at Pentagon East.”
    “
Brigadier General
Jack Seacourt?”
    “Yes… he’s been given the mission for POW recovery, and I need to talk to him.”
    “I can do one better for you.” The lieutenant colonel nodded his head toward the door. “Let’s go over to my shop; I have a
     direct secure voice land line to the J-3 in Saigon.”
    “That’s great, Clyde!” Sinclair pulled on his clean jacket and followed his classmate out of the building. The sidewalk was
     lined with banana plants and allowed for the officers to walk in the shade to the large, two-story Corps Headquarters building.
     The entire structure was made out of wood, screening, and cement-covered sandbags.
    Colonel Sinclair took a seat in the private office and placed his call to Brigadier General Seacourt. The general was the
     highest-ranking member of his graduating class and had been promoted below his promotion zone ever since he had been a second
     lieutenant. Sinclair had done extremely well and had received numerous accelerated promotions also, but Seacourt was the master
     politician.
    The land line crackled with a little static, and then Sea-court’s voice filled the wire. “Reggie! It’s good hearing from you
     again!”
    “Hi, Jack. Congratulations on your assignment.”
    “Well, I don’t know if congratulations or a sympathy card is in order. You know, we’ve never had a successful POW snatch,
     and there is a lot of pressure on this particular program right now.”
    Sinclair smiled to himself. He knew that Seacourt had too much political savvy to take on an assignment that would end up
     making him look bad, especially a combat one. “Well, I’m sure you’ll be able to work something out.”
    “Say, Reggie… I left an important meeting to take your call. Is there something I can do for you?” Seacourt waved his hand
     at the captain, who was signaling him that his staff was waiting.
    “Yes, Jack. I need some information on a missing soldier who we think has been captured by the NVA in the A Shau Valley.”
    Seacourt adjusted the receiver he was holding in his hand against his ear and became very interested. “You say he was captured
     in the A Shau?”
    “Yes… about a month ago…. His name is—”
    “Spencer Barnett.”
    Sinclair was shocked that the general knew the name of the soldier.
    “Or is it Mohammed James?” Seacourt’s voice dropped in question.
    “No, it’s Barnett.” Sinclair became very cautious. “He was one of my son’s teammates in the First Cavalry Division.”
    “How’s