Red Snow. Sean Ryan Stuart
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his body, and he visibly shrank into a tight ball. Grant didn’t really care about Major Dong’s sad experience with the French Foreign Legion. He only hoped that he could survive this new form of torture. Grant’s only wish was to get his hands around Dong’s throat and squeeze until all of his rotten beetle-juice-stained teeth popped out.
Jeremy was then paraded from camp to camp throughout Vietnam. However, Grant noted that the VC always seem to be heading in a northerly direction, and he had no intention of ending up a P.O.W. in North Vietnam.
After the strange episode, Major Dong took particular pleasure in torturing and abusing Grant. Dong felt as if he had shamed himself in front of his men and blamed Jeremy for his Faux-pas (mistake). He took singular delight in running a six-foot length of bamboo behind Grant’s back, and tying Grant’s hands in such a fashion that any downward movement would cause excruciating pain. Dong would then fasten another rope around his neck and ankles causing him to choke whenever he fell. Jeremy had endured this abuse for over three months; his mind was becoming a blur of green hell, pain and agony. Grant knew that if he allowed his mind to wander too much, he would never escape this inferno. At this point, Jeremy did not know which part of his dream he was in. The violent thoughts rolled into each other in his hapless brain. His torment continued as he relived his capture by Major Dong.
One remote VC camp after another became a nightmare of renewed hell and abuse. Grant tried in vain to maintain his sanity by using every trick in the book. Focusing on one subject, he had found, helped his concentration. He repeatedly recited poetry or verses, and found that a poignant verse he had written during his first tour caused him to temporarily forget the pain.
Grant’s mind wandered. His thoughts drifted like a butterfly on LSD. His soul floated between the stark realism of Vietnam, and the pleasant thoughts of a long-lost past, and the current events in Afghanistan. His dreams switched between the reality of his existing situation, and events which occurred over twenty years ago. During this particularly troublesome situation, Jeremy had difficulty in sorting out his dreams. His restless spirit would stray between dreams, and he seemed to lose touch with reality.
Although he was asleep, he continuously tried to focus on events and occurrences that were of particular significance to him. His mind was being continually torn apart by conflicting emotions and feelings. Even in his sleep, he was so confused that he was usually unable to achieve a deep REM state. After many hours of troubling dreams, finally succumbing to mental exhaustion, he fell into a deep REM sleep. His mind drifted into a semi-hypnotic trance.
Jeremy gradually escaped his torturer, and began dreaming and focusing on a training class that he had taken at Ft. Bragg, years earlier as a young second lieutenant. For some unknown reason his entire mental capacity was now concentrated on this event which took place so many years ago. Pleasant experiences were replacing the traumatic ones with Major Dong.
His Escape and Evasion class (E&E) had started routinely enough, but one idea clearly stuck in Grant’s mind, “S.U.R.V.I.V.A.L. and Repetition.” Grant’s sole thought was now concentrated on his former instructor, and what he had taught him.
“One of the paramount experiences that hundreds of servicemen learned during WWII and Korea was that SURVIVAL was a matter of mental outlook. If you had the will to survive, you would do so! Another valuable tool was repetition and concentration. Be obstinate and more determined than the enemy and you will win the battle of wills!”
His instructor, Sergeant First Class (SFC) Donald Glenn Murchison, AKA “DG” (Dead Guy), a second-generation Scotsman from Dumfries, Scotland, had instructed his students to attempt and focus on one subject, and keep repeating this thought over and over and over. SFC Murchison had drummed into their heads that every soldier might experience emotional problems resulting from fear, anxiety, loneliness and boredom. Not only would they experience these mental problems, but they might also be subject to hunger, pain, severe wounds, and thirst. This combination of mental and physical torture could possibly overcome their strongest intentions. The words SURVIVAL and REPETITION kept appearing in Jeremy’s thoughts. Jeremy kept hearing SFC Murchison scream at them, “SURVIVAL is spelled:
S ize up the situation
U ndue haste makes waste
R emember where you are
V anquish fear and panic
I mprovise
V alue living
A ct like the natives
L earn basic skills
“You will forget the, “New Testament,” and memorize the Department of the Army Field Manual, FM 21-76, SURVIVAL. Is that understood, gentlemen?” Jeremy’s dreams were so realistic that he was transported back over and over again to Fort Bragg.
Grant’s memories of SFC Murchison were always full of great esteem and respect. His time spent there now appeared like stories in a DC Comic book, short stories full of action and adventure. Jeremy’s exhausted mind played tricks on him. Just when things were getting good or bad, the story line would shift. After a series of flashbacks his dream finally settled into an epic adventure.
“DG’s” war stories were almost like an act of contrition. A price had to be paid in time, beer and hangovers. Jeremy fondly remembered their last encounter in the Senior NCO Club at Ft. Bragg. Another senior NCO had also been present at their table, and he loudly proclaimed that “DG” had to be the greatest escape artist in the history of the United States Army.
“Hey, lieutenant, how in the hell were you allowed in this club? We don’t allow no Shavetails in here!” proclaimed Sergeant Major (SGM), Richard “Bunny” Howard, a close colleague of “DG’s.”
“Well, huhh, you know, I was invited by “DG” to come along, and I hope I am not offending anyone,” Grant said, hoping not to piss-off the drunken Sergeant Major.
“Naahh, that’s okay, lieutenant, any friend of “DG’s” is a friend of mine. Did you know why he was called “DG”? Huh?” stuttered “Bunny.”
“No, I didn’t, but I am sure if I buy you another beer you just might tell me! Right?” replied the young second lieutenant.
“Your damn right I will, but it’s going to take more than just a little beer to get me to talk about ‘DG.’ How much time do you have, LT.? All night I hope, because I feel like getting drunk!” SGM Howard proclaimed in a loud voice. With that last remark he started rattling off like an out of control M-60 machinegun.
“‘DG’ Murchison is a highly-decorated combat veteran of both W.W. II and Korea. ‘DG’ has the distinct fame of having been taken prisoner in both wars, and therefore is an expert on the subject of escape and evasion. ‘DG’ got his nickname during the Battle of the Bulge. His position was overrun by the hard-charging 5th SS Panzer Division of Oberst (Colonel/later General) Joachim Peiper. Peiper was the former commander of Hitler’s own 1st Leibstandarte Panzer Regiment and led the spearhead during the Battle of the Bulge. He was also responsible for the Malmedy massacre, in which unarmed American soldiers were shot down in cold blood.
‘DG’ was severely wounded and left for dead by his comrades. SGM Howard blurted out that last paragraph with hardly a breath between words. He continued after slowly taking a long swig of beer.
“Even his parents received a telegram from the Department of the Army, listing him as ‘Missing in Action’ (MIA). They were, of course, both surprised and elated when he turned up a few months later alive and kicking. His younger brother, Frank, had exclaimed, ‘Hey, you’re suppose to be a Dead-Guy.’
“Are you listening to me, LT?” “Bunny” barked!
“Yes,