by: Marty Chrisman

The men had been marching through the jungle for 2 days. Six marines all that were left alive from their squad. Caught in a surprise ambush by the Viet Cong, the marines who had survived the attack had been taken prisoner. Their capturers had tied them together in one long line, forcing them to march down a long secluded trail to the prison camp hidden deep in the jungle. None of the surviving men tried to escape. A couple of others had tried earlier and had been shot and killed, their bodies dumped along the trail.

Sergeant Luke Duke forced himself to keep walking even though he was exhausted. He was also terrified. He knew that as a prisoner of war he had no rights, not to the Viet Cong, and that they were notorious for their torture and mistreatment of their prisoners. Luke had been in numerous battles, had men die in his arms, seen things no man should ever have to see, but being captured by the enemy frightened him more than anything else ever had. He knew it was unlikely that he would survive the ordeal that lay ahead of him. When the time came, he silently prayed for the courage to die like a man with honor and with pride.

The worst part of all was that he had been scheduled to go home in two days, his tour of Nam would have been over and he would have been safe back in the States. Now instead, he would probably die in this god forsaken place thousands of miles away from his home and his family. The physical torment had already began none of the prisoners had been given anything to eat or drink for the past two days and they’d had very little rest. But they had to keep moving. They had no choice.

Early on the morning of the third day, they finally reached the hidden camp. There were four large wooden cages inside the compound housing up to 100 men.

Luke and his fellow prisoners were untied and then ordered at gun point to remove their uniforms and redress in the rags that the other prisoners were forced to wear. Barefoot and dressed in a pair of loose fitting pants with a drawstring at the waist and a tattered shirt with no buttons, Luke was marched over to one of the cages. The door was unlocked and he was thrown roughly thrown inside.

Reeling with shock and exhaustion, Luke made his way over to a corner of the cage and sat down, drawing his legs up to his chest and wrapping his arms around his knees. He let his eyes close, partly to rest and partly to block out the horror around him. But he could still hear the sounds of the camp, the yelling of the guards, the screams of the prisoners, coughing and gagging, moaning, the sounds of men vomiting. And the smell inside the cage was atrocious. Unwashed bodies, urine, feces, blood and vomit all mixed together. Luke knew that he had arrived in hell. He was tired, he was hungry, he was thirsty, he was cold and he was scared out of his mind.

He must have dozed off because the next thing Luke knew he felt someone shaking his shoulder roughly. He opened his eyes to see a man about his age sitting beside him. Without a word, he handed Luke a wooden bowl filled with water and a few bites of rice. Luke tipped the bowl to his mouth and instantly started gagging on the rank taste. He sat the bowl down on the ground where it was instantly snatched up by another prisoner.

“Don’t worry” the other man told him in a flat voice “You’ll get used to it. It’s all they ever give us to eat.” The man looked at Luke intently, sizing him up. “My name’s Pete. Pete Riggs.”

“Luke Duke”

“Southern Boy, huh?” he said with a grin instantly picking up on the slow, soft drawl in Luke’s voice. “Where’s home?”

“Hazzard, Georgia.” Luke forced himself to say, swallowing hard to dislodge the sudden lump that rose in his throat as he thought about home.

“I’m from Newark, New Jersey myself.” Pete told him “Don’t reckon I’ve ever get back there except in a body bag.” He leaned back against the cage wall beside Luke and stretched out his legs. “What unit you with?”

“Marines. Division D.” Luke told him, fighting to keep his eyes open and to concentrate on what Pete was saying.

“Too bad….you’re really in for it….these guys don’t like the marines.” Pete informed him with a short bitter laugh. “And a lot of the guards like young guys like you…they like to see how long it takes to break you down…make you beg….”

“How long have you been here?” Luke asked, not really caring that much but trying to make conversation.

“Almost a year.” Pete told him with a sigh. “Figure I won’t last much longer….most of us don’t…”

Luke glanced at the other man, really noticing him for the first time and seeing his emancipated body, the open festering wounds and the flat dead look in his eyes. Luke found himself wondering how long it would take before he looked like that himself.

“Take care, Georgia boy.” Pete said as he shoved himself to his feet “And watch your back….nobody else here will….” Luke watched as he walked away to mingle with another group of men on the other side of the cage.

Luke leaned his head back against the cage and closed his eyes, trying to block out everything around him. He let his mind drift free, back to memories of home and the farm where he grew up with his Uncle and his two cousins.

Hazzard County, Georgia wasn’t much to most people but to Luke it was the only home he’d ever known and the only home he ever wanted. He came from a close loving family that consisted of his Uncle Jesse, his cousin, Daisy and his cousin, Bo. Luke was the oldest of the three cousins. He had come to live on the farm with Uncle Jesse and Aunt Martha after his parents were killed in a car accident. He had only been four years old at the time. He remembered being so scared and so alone. But with Martha and Jesse’s love and attention, he had slowly come around. When he was five, his cousin Bo, who was only a year old at the time had come to live on the farm too. His parents had also been killed in a car accident. And the family circle had been completed when he was eight and the final cousin, Daisy, had come to live them after her father had been killed in a mining accident. Her mother had died when she was born. She had been six at the time. The three cousins had become as close as natural brothers and sisters. And Luke and Bo had become so close, in spite of the difference in their ages, that they were seldom seen apart. The bond between them was so strong that they seemed to have almost a psychic connection between them.

Bo had only been 14 when Luke turned 18 and had enlisted in the Marines. He was devastated and had cried for days begging Luke not to go. The day that Luke left for basic training, Bo refused to even come out of his room to say goodbye. Luke had been gone for three years with just a short visit back home before shipping out for Viet Nam. Bo wrote Luke almost everyday and he looked forward to his younger cousins letters more than he cared to admit. When Luke wrote home, he always wrote two letters. One to Jesse and Daisy and a separate letter to Bo. The bond between them was as strong as ever and they shared almost everything (although Luke was careful not to tell any of his family about the horrors he had seen or experienced during his combat in Nam)

The farm had been a good place to grow up as a child and Luke couldn’t have asked for a better childhood. They didn’t have much in the way of material possessions but they had more than enough love to go around. The boys had to work hard to help Jesse with the farm but he made sure they had time to do things they enjoyed too like fishing, hunting, camping and when Luke got older, sports and girls.

To supplement the meager income from the farm, Jesse also made moonshine. Jesse’s shine was considered the best around and he had regular customers in three counties who wouldn’t buy their shine from anyone but Jesse. Moonshining had been a Duke Family tradition for almost 200 years with a secret recipe that had been passed down from generation to generation. When he got out of the service and went home for good, Luke planned to help Jesse in the family business.

Luke’s thoughts of home were rudely interrupted by a guard suddenly spraying a blast of icy cold water through the walls of the cage. He kept spraying the water until all of the prisoners inside the cage were soaked and shivering from the cold. One of the other prisoners took the time to tell Luke that the guards did that frequently. It was one of their favorite pastimes when it came to tormenting the prisoners. Luke huddled in his corner, soaked to the skin and miserable. And he knew that this was only the beginning.