A big cardboard box sitting in the bottom of the safe, took up most of that space. I hadn’t dug into it yet, but Pa was not home either, so I still had some time. I put all of Grandpa’s stuff back on his shelf and pulled the box out of the safe and onto the floor. Slowly I opened the lid, not knowing what to expect. Did Pa have the box booby-trapped? Oh, now I AM getting paranoid.
* * * * *
About the time I reached for the first cardboard flap that tell-tell creak of the upstairs floorboards clued me into the fact – Pa was home. Baba’s floors are hardwood and when stepped on in certain places a distinctive creaking sound can be heard downstairs. I recognized the creak. Yep, Pa was home! Phase II wasn’t finished yet but there would be no Phase III (whatever that was to be) if I did not find some clue, and find it pretty quick.
I slid the box back into the safety of its storehouse; slowly swung the massive doors shut, pulled the handle up and twisted the dial. All items were back appearing un-disturbed. I turned out the gunroom lights; the basement was well lit. I walked across the basement to the upstairs door, flipped off the lights and trudged up the stairs and sat down to eat.
Pa had arrived with our supper; I began eating a taco, covering it with hot sauce when I felt I needed to say something, “Hey Pa! What you been doing?”
I think I surprised him, for I am not usually this talkative. He turned to me, his mouth dripping red hot sauce, and said, “Hey... to you too, Forrest. What YOU been doing?”
“Nothing, I’ve been doing nothing, nothing at all, absolutely nothing! I think I’ll eat a taco."
Pa looked at me kinda weird and said, “Forrest you ARE eating a taco!!”
I was as nervous as a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs so my attempt at conversation didn’t even sound intelligent.
“Say Forrest, you and I haven’t shot any pool in a long-time, what say we go downstairs and find out if you can beat the old man! I bet you are getting pretty good.”
My mind kept racing… what to say… what to say…”Uh, Pa what about the day’s receipts? After we eat you have to finish those, don’t you?”
“Yeah, your right but what about when I get through?”
Immediately something like a bolt of lightning came down from the sky and popped me a good one, jarring my brain.
I remembered I had forgotten to put that yellowed 3x5 note card back into the file cabinet drawer where Pa had the combination safely hidden. It totally slipped my mind to return it. Now the card was lying there, totally exposed, on Pa's workbench.
I could almost sense it yelling 'here I am Pa come find me!
I had to make an excuse, any excuse to not go back down to the basement.
Pa probably wouldn’t go into the gunroom but what if he did? My brain continued to spin. I felt hot… real hot… and I thought I could feel sweat forming on my brow! Surely not sweat and the temperature below freezing outside! Pa saw it too, I could feel him staring - sweat... he knew something was wrong. Every time he took a crunchy bite of his taco he would look over at me with that ‘I know you are guilty of something’ look.
‘Get a hold of yourself Forrest,’ I said to myself. ‘You’re not sweating! Pa doesn’t know anything. Your mind is playing tricks on you - see Pa’s expression hasn’t changed, he isn’t aware of your actions. But I must figure a way to get out of this pool game somehow.’
I finally said, “Pa you have had a long day, and I have too, why don’t we shoot some pool tomorrow. I think I want to go into the den, lie on the couch, and turn to ‘Sportscenter’ on TV.”
“Oh okay, I’m a little tired myself. Tomorrow will be fine.”
I began to concoct the finish to Phase II.
I will go into the den, Baba would make me a bed on the couch, and I will pretend to fall asleep. When everyone is sound asleep I will slip back downstairs and finish Phase II. ‘Yeah, a good plan’, I thought.
Baba had gone to bed around 10:30 and Pa and I continued watching the ‘Sportscenter’.
I thought, ‘this is working out fine. Pa will go to bed in a little while, and I can get back to my ‘rat killing’. (Oh, this tidbit is an old saying that my Nanny Scarburg used to say.) Hummm… rat killing! Now that got me to wondering… reckon what that meant… before I had a chance to answer my own question, Pa suddenly exclaimed, “Forrest I almost forgot to tell you, I taped the ‘NBA All-Star Slam Dunk Championship’! You want to watch the program?”
Had Pa gone crazy… of course I wanted to watch… that contest was one of my favorites. The Slam Dunk contest was always during the NBA All Star weekend, and I never missed it. Forgetting for a moment about Phase II I glued my eye-balls to Pa’s 52” HD Sony so as not to miss a move or twist of Nate Robinson on all his ‘tremendous’ 5’9” frame pull off his magic again; also the star Dwight Howard of the Orlando Magic appearing to float through the air and the Man… Gerald Green from the Boston Celtics.
What’s with these guys!! They are great… well I guess with the money they make, they’re supposed to be. For a little while I let my mind rest and I forgot about the two dudes, the leather satchel, the Ford sedan, the awards, the military medals in the gunroom and Phase II.
Right now it was basketball all basketball.
Nothing finer than to be curled up on Baba’s couch watching her big screen TV. She had provided me with a huge down-filled pillow, a sheet to lie on, a warm comforter to cover up in and a cool soda on the end table. Before she went to bed she had even cooked me some cheese sausage balls to nibble on. Heaven? No, but close.
Before the Slam Dunk finished I nodded off to sleep, no longer than maybe for a minute, mind you. When I opened my eyes I looked over at Pa’s recliner and he was gone! How long… I did not know… had he gone to bed… I did not know… why didn’t I stay awake… I did not know… asleep! I went to sleep!!
Phase II depended on me sneaking back downstairs after everyone was asleep, Pa and Baba asleep… not ME!! My whole ‘The Plan ‘depended on this!!
My brain was screaming at me…‘Stupid...! Stupid...! Why did you go to sleep’!!!
I tiptoed down the hall toward Pa’s room… good Pa had turned his lights off. I turned and went into the bathroom (in case he had heard me). I waited, trying not to breath, straining my ears to detect whether Pa and Baba had fallen asleep or not. I pressed my ear to the wall hoping to hear Baba mumbling or Pa snoring in his sleep. What's wrong with me? Did I think I had microphones for ears? Enough of this… they are asleep, time to put my sleuth hat back on. Come on Phase II…
* * * * *
I ventured down the hall, trying not to step on the creaking hardwood boards. Descended the stairs and ever so slowly opened the basement door. Leaving the door ajar, for light, I walked very quietly across the floor to the gunroom, never turning on the basement lights. Silently I entered the room. I tried to snap the light switch on as quietly as I could (am I stupid… quietly - loudly! For goodness sake the things a light switch, okay).
I hurriedly retrieved the combination card, (thank you God) from the workbench and approached the hunk of steel again. I boosted my courage telling myself I had bested him once before and he will be mine once again.
Turn right to 25, left to 38, right to 16, left to 0, push the handle and turn to 68. Ah ha…that strong metallic click signaled I had triumphed again. I pulled the handle and the first door swung open. Next, I reached out and felt the cold hard steel of door number two. I pulled - the door swung wide open without effort.
Lying in the bottom, exactly where it had been left – the box.
I slid the big cardboard container out of the safe and onto the floor. My excitement was beginning to overwhelm me. I immediately wanted to tear into its hidden secrets; however, I said to myself, ‘slow down, be calm, you have plenty of time.’ And besides, I did not want to make any racket or noise.
I reached out, grasped the first cardboard flap, pulled it open and continued to unfold the next three. Now the brown lifeless box lay
before me totally exposed.
For some unknown reason my mind flashed to a body on an autopsy table, all opened up and waiting for the forensics expert to uncover what had caused its demise. I was the ‘expert’ now and the innermost secrets of my cardboard ‘body’ lay awaiting my ‘scalpel’ hands.
The box contained a number of folders belonging both to Grandpa and Pa Scarburg.
Most appeared to be a cream colored brown, and all military because the words U.S. Army, U.S. Government, Classified, Confidential, Secret and even Top Secret, or some military numbers were stamped all over the fronts. A two-pronged metal band stuck through the folder from the outside kept the papers attached, one on the front cover and one on the back. The papers themselves had two holes punched in the top and these mental strips held them in place. I also knew these were Army folders because one said:
MILITARY PERSONNEL
RECORDS JACKET
UNITED STATES ARMY
IF FOUND MAIL IN NEAREST U.S. POST OFFICE OR MAIL BOX. NOTE TO POSTMASTER-OFFICIAL. MAIL-RETURN TO COMMANDER, MILITARY PERSONNEL CENTER, 200 STOVALL STREET, ALEXANDER, VA 22332POSTAGE FOR RETURN IS GUARANTEED
DA FORM 201
A place for a photograph was provided (but devoid of any photo). Fingerprint cards, enlistment contracts, duty assignments, promotions, awards, medals, recommendations, training records, skills, Military Occupational Specialty (MOS), citations, marriage records, school transcripts, diplomas, and DD Form 214 Discharge Records all attached to the little metal prongs for me to read.
As I said these weren’t run-of-mill high school English class manila folders. Those documents were the real deal. United States of America official U.S. Army stuff, yes-sir-ree-sir! One huge one that stood out had a large red-bordered cover sheet with the words:
TOP SECRET
THIS A COVER SHEET
FOR CLASSIFIED INFORMATION
ALL INDIVIDUALS HANDLING THIS INFORMATION ARE REQUIRED TO
PROTECT IT FROM UNAUTHORIZED DISCLOSURE IN THE
INTEREST OF THE NATIONAL SECURITY OF THE UNITED STATES
HANDLING, STORAGE, REPRODUCTION AND DISPOSITION OF THE ATTACHED
DOCUMENT WILL BE IN ACCORDANCE WITH APPLICABLE EXECUTIVE
ORDERS, STATUTE(S) AND AGENCY IMPLEMENTING REGULATIONS
(THIS COVER SHEET IS UNCLASSIFIED)
TOP SECRET
Oh yeah I thought now this is what I’ve been talking about… I bet the answer to the “Secret” is in this folder. My hand trembled as I picked up this first folder and began flipping through the pages and pages.
The documents read like a history lesson.
The Central Intelligence Agency prepared this particular document. The CIA! Whoa! ‘Now I didn’t need Chris for this one I knew about the CIA. Spooks, spies, sleuths now we’re getting somewhere’, I thought. This is getting to the “Secret” of the two men, the satchel and the Ford sedan.
Inside the aged cover a record of Grandpa’s military exploits around the world, and especially while in Vietnam. Overwhelmed! To say the least! But I had to dig deeper to find out about the “Secret." And somewhere in this jumble of papers I believed I would find it.
I slowly forced my hand to move, willed my fingers to turn to the first page and let my eyes flow gently across the page. My eyes darted up and down, at first fast, but I forced myself to slow down and read the actual words written.
The documents had a musty kind of odor, a moldy aroma similar to the inside of the safe. The pages themselves, beginning to fade with age, were a reminder of a time long ago.
Sitting on the cold concrete floor my nose not only detected the scent on the documents that I was holding but I even had a hint of the ones still left for me to ponder, still within the box. Wait, I scented something else as I sniffed the air - a smattering of gun oil, hand cleaner and gun lubricating fluid drifted to my nostrils. Floating in the cool gunroom air was the tang of that odor. Pa created that smell and it wasn’t from the cardboard box. I was glad, because it was real, not my imagination tricking me. It was here and it was now, and that cardboard box of history I had sitting before me did not cause it.
I looked back to the floor and the beautiful clock was still lying where I had earlier placed it. I picked it up to return it to its place on the shelf but my curiosity got the best of me. Darn broken clock, I thought. I shook it! Shook it again, this time pretty hard, held it to my ear – no ticking. There was one red knob protruding from the top of the clock – this might be the ‘off’ and ‘on’ switch I pushed it.
Damn (I mean darn)! The lights on the front came on and the clock started making a funny humming noise – sounded kinda like the tuning fork that we used in Science class. It was still broken tho’ the red lights on the dial did not have the correct time or date. I looked at my watch just to make sure – mine read 12:15 am the ‘clock’ indicated 9:00 pm and the date showed ‘1967’. Gosh, this thing hasn’t worked in a long time!! I placed the ‘broken’ clock back on the shelf and continued to read the documents.
I don’t know how to explain what happened next. Some kind of weird phenomenon started. As I began to read the first few pages of this thick folder my body began to experience a strange sensation. My head grew light and I had the awareness things around me were becoming disoriented.
Whatever was happening to me had the hallucinatory qualities of a trance.
I slowly became aware that I wasn’t sitting on the cold gunroom floor; in fact, I do not believe I was in the gunroom at all!!
My body felt as if I were somehow in a dream but dreaming that I were awake - I saw things, but I couldn’t touch them - I wanted to speak but was unable to - I saw people but I was invisible to them - I felt like a ghost - being totally unperceivable to them. Was I having an out of body experience…? I floated about unnoticed…it was…I… where was… I...? I had left the gunroom…I was in the midst of a battle being described in the CIA documents… I… I… I… was in a…war…!! What war...? Now I recog… yes I do… now I recognize this from my video games… this…. this war… is... is...Vietnam...!!!
"Sarge!! Sarge"" Yelled the Lieutenant, "Incoming!! Incoming!! Get the men under cover!!"
"Roger that LT!! INCOMING!! Yelled Sergeant Scarburg, in his strong authoritative voice. A voice that always demanded attention. "Get your asses in them 'fraid holes NOW!!..................
CHAPTER NINE
HOW IT ALL BEGIN?'
The CIA classified papers in the moldy box in the basement indicated the battle at Polei Kleng described earlier originally had it’s beginning when Master Sergeant Scarburg was assigned Team Leader of a ‘Spike Team’ patrol from the I (Eye) Corps area, whose initiation point was in proximity of the Laotian border at Special Forces Forward Operating Base (FOB) Number 5 with the name Nah Trang.
Sarge would later find out, this was just the beginning of many US, CIA, SOG run operations that had as their goal the crossing of the borders into either Laos or Cambodia.
One of the very first, code named “Photo Shoot," was under the operational control of the ARVN government but the on-the-ground authority remained with the CIA. In reality it was totally managed courteous of the CIA, as all these SOG type operations are. This way the ARVN government thought they had a finger in the pie.
Any type of reconnaissance gathering or intelligence missions, such as Sarges, fell under the auspices of OPS-35. Along with missions such as this one, OPS-35 sometimes would try to find and rescue ARVN or US combatants who were captured or reported as MIA (Missing In Action). Missions also included the capture of enemy prisoners and the conduct of PsyOps (Physiological Operations) operations in or near Laos and Cambodia.
This operation OPS-35, was funded and overseen through our CIA covert operatives, but to remain clandestine they were attached for C&C (command and control) to the U.S. Army’s 5th Special Forces Group (Airborne) SFGA. In the event of capture or KIA (killed in action) their records would indicate that these personnel were on the rolls of 5th SFGA. br />
There were always men who wanted to constantly live with danger as a daily adrenaline high. They loved the excitement of having The Grim Reaper only a heart beat away. To these guys assignments with Mobile Strike Forces (MSF), sometimes referred to as Mike Forces, Special Ops or some of the very highly classified missions of SOG, gave them what they longed for - the rush from kicking death in the ass and surviving.
From the ‘60s SOG was reported to have had as many as 1500 to 2500 US combatants (both civilian and military). This did not include app 6000 to 7000 indigenous troops who lived in the areas. These local troops were battle-hardened soldiers such as some Cambodia’s Khmer Krom (Cambodians born in South Vietnam), the South Vietnam’s Montagnard mountain people, and the Nung (mercenaries) ethnic minorities.
The Department of Defense’s ‘A Study of Strategic Lessons Learned in Vietnam’ reported that intel (intelligence) information gained from SOG operations on NVA troop concentrations and their movements along those sectors of the Ho Chi Minh Trail provided valuable intel to Saigon and Washington.
Due to the SOG OPS mission the US had a fairly clear picture of the enemy units in their border sanctuaries and along the Trail. However, the US Ambassador in Laos, William B. Sheridan was viewed as a ‘field marshal’. The U.S. sometimes referred to the Ho Chi Minh Trail as Sheridan’s Highway. Sheridan, when asked for authority to insert SOG teams, he would deny the requests on grounds the CIA already had teams working in those areas.
Sheridan might have been concerned also about how the Soviets would look upon the US military actions since he was a good friend with the Soviet Ambassador to Laos, Boris Kerenski.
* * * * *
Sleep was still heavy in the team's eyes and a faint hint of sunrise could be seen far off to the east as Sarge called his SOG team, Code name: ‘Photo Shoot’, Call Sign: ‘Bravo Fox Trot’, together, for their early morning pre-deployment briefing.
Most SF teams would have consisted of a larger force but right now SOG was fielding missions with 12 men or less to include no more than 3 Americans. Most of the time two or three SF personnel led these teams, with team leaders mostly sergeants.