by: Marty Chrisman

Luke was sitting in the corner with Billy Jo sitting beside him. Luke hadn’t spoken since the last round of torture by the guards and Billy Jo was starting to get worried. Billy noticed the various wounds on Luke’s body, bruises and cuts, lacerations and abrasions. There was also a wicked looking eight inch gash on his left leg that looked like it was badly infected. When their food bowls came, Billy tried to hand Luke his bowl but he brushed it aside. “Come on, Sarge….ya gotta eat.” Billy said coaxing Luke to at least try.

Luke could hear Billy Jo, he just refused to respond. He was convinced that he was going to die here in this place and that there was nothing he could do about that. He knew that his battered body couldn’t take much more abuse and that the next round of torture could be all it took to kill him. Luke didn’t think that it would matter much if he ate or not under the circumstances. He didn’t want to die but it wasn’t up to him, it was up to God and if God chose to let him die here in this place then there had to a reason. He closed his eyes and let himself go home again.

Everyone was crying but sixteen year old Luke refused to let his teardrops fall. His eyes remained dry and his face impassive. Two days ago, Jesse and the boys had come home from the fields to find Jesse’s wife, Martha, lying on the kitchen floor, dead from a massive stroke, at the age of fifty-four. Luke and Bo had stood there watching helplessly as Jesse fell to his knees and gathered his wife into his arms, gently calling her name even as the tears fell freely from his eyes. But Martha was gone, called home to Glory.

She was the only mother that Luke could remember. She had made this house a home and her spirit dominated every room of the old farmhouse. Luke felt as if his heart was torn out of his chest but he refused to cry. He hadn’t shed a tear, not that day and not today as she was laid to rest in the family cemetery on the hill behind the barn. Daisy, Bo, and Uncle Jesse had all cried for days but not Luke.

Luke had never been one for showing his feelings much. He had always kept things hidden away inside of himself. Bo on the other hand was the emotional one who cried and got his feelings hurt so easily. Bo was also the more affection of the two boys, hugging and kissing without any encouragement and wearing his heart on his sleeve. Bo was the only Luke truly trusted and the only one that he even came close to sharing everything with. But even with Bo there some things Luke couldn’t or wouldn’t share and his own grief was one of them.

Luke could remember the preacher saying at Martha’s service that God must have had a reason for calling her home so soon and taking her away from the family that still loved and needed her so much. But to Luke, those just sounded like empty words. Martha was still gone and nothing could bring her back or ease the pain of her leaving.

Luke slipped out to the barn and climbed the ladder to the hayloft. This was his secret place. The place he came when he needed to be alone, the place he came when he hurt, sad, lonely or unhappy. And it was here in this place away from prying eyes that he finally let himself cry for the only mother he had every known.

Suddenly Luke became aware of loud angry voices, yelling and cussing. And then screams and gunfire. Gunfire that Luke’s trained ear recognized as military issue M16’s. Instantly the other men in the cage who were still able to starting yelling and crowding around the bars. Billy Jo looked at Luke and grinned. In an excited voice, he said, “Hang in there, Sarge….do ya hear me? Hang in there! Our guys are here! We’re gonna get outta here!” He was so excited, he grabbed Luke’s shoulders and shook him until Luke turned his head and looked at him “Our guys are here!” he repeated loudly “We’re getting rescued!”

Luke understood what Billy Jo was saying and he felt a surge of relief but he was too weak and hurt to respond by doing anything more than simply nodding his head to show Billy that he understood. Suddenly, the door to their cage was thrown open and uniformed troops seemed to be all over the compound. As some of the uniformed men came inside the cage to start removing prisoners, Billy Jo stood up and started yelling “Over here….he’s hurt bad…he needs a medic right away!”

Suddenly there were two uniformed men kneeling beside Luke. One of them smiled warmly and said “Its okay now, son…we’re gonna get ya outta here.” One of them grabbed Luke under the arms and the second man grabbed his legs and they started carrying him out of the cage. Billy tagged along behind them as they carried Luke towards a waiting medi-vac chopper. “He’s my sergeant.” Billy told them “United States Marines. Division D.”

“What’s his name, son?” the man carrying Luke under his arms asked.

“Luke…Luke Duke.”

“Don’t worry, son. We’ll take good care of him.”

Billy watched as Luke was gently laid on a stretcher inside the chopper along with several other seriously injured prisoners. He didn’t even notice the tears that were streaming down his face as the armed forces continued their rescue of the prisoners in the camp.

On the chopper, a pretty blonde nurse knelt beside the stretcher where Luke was lying and quickly began assessing his injuries and taking his vital signs. “Hi, Blue eyes…” she said with a smile noticing that Luke’s eyes were open “Can you hear me?” Luke nodded his head slowly but didn’t speak. “Good….just hang in there, okay? We’re taking you to a mash unit in Saigon. Understand?” Luke nodded again “Great….now, I’m gonna start an IV so I get some fluids into you and some medicine that’s gonna make you sleep.”

Luke flinched when he felt her insert the IV needle in the back of his left hand. Almost immediately he felt his eyes growing heavy as the IV drip started seeping into his bloodstream. He tried fighting it at first, afraid to go to sleep, afraid that he’d wake up and find out that this was all a dream and that he was still back in the camp being tortured but he lost the battle and his eyes finally closed as the medicine took effect.

As the chopper took off, the nurse smiled down at the young man in her charge. She had seen so many young men like him since this crazy war began but he was going to be one of the lucky ones. He was getting out alive. Mentally, she assessed his injuries. Severe dehydration, severe weight loss, numerous bruises, cuts, abrasions, lacerations, numerous welts, some burns and too many insect bites to even count. And a nasty wound on his leg that was severely infected, a wound that could cost him his leg. In spite of the dirt and grime embedded in his skin, the foul odor of his body, and the dark beard that covered his face, she could see that he was undoubtedly a handsome young man who until this happened had been in the prime of his life.