File 871

We headed down the path towards the temple. My heart was racing and my adrenaline was something else. The line from Riders on the Storm by Jim Morrison kept repeating itself in my mind. Killers on the road, killers on the road. I imagined them being everywhere. Behind the next bush - around the next corner - hiding up in the trees overhead. Yes, killers all around like dogs without a bone. Gus stopped. I told Tom to stay put as I inched forward to Gus. I whispered, "Gus, what's going on?" He just sat there motionless staring straight ahead of him into the jungle. What the fuck is going on Gus? I was trying real hard not to panic. I looked around. I started to feel trapped. Life was a double-edged sword. It would cut me if I went forward or if I retreated. "Gus, what the hell is going on up there?" Still no answer, so I crawled up to his position. When I got to him, I could see his face was blank. Again I asked him what the problem was and all he could do is point to his left. "Is it a tiger, Gus?" He just shook his head no and kept on pointing. "Gus I can't see. What the hell is going on over there?" "It's them" is all he could say. I slowly peeked around the clump of bushes and there they were. My heart leaped into my throat. I could neither breathe nor swallow. My mouth dried up and my eyes bulged in their sockets. "Oh Jesus H. Christ!" I wanted to take my eyes off of them, but I couldn't. The horror was attracting me to them like a moth towards a light. I closed my eyes for a second hoping it was all a dream. But when I opened them again, I saw the same macabre scene as before. "Gus! Gus! You get Fish up here pronto. Then tell Doc and Tom what you know and set up a line of defense about fifty meters back." The VC had killed the LRRP team. No, let me rephrase that. They had crucified them in a number of ways. All five, including the village chief, looked like hideous, twisted corpses. As I walked up to them, all I could hear is the buzzing of flies around the bodies of the dead men. The chief had been hung. The skin of one of the men had been peeled back all the way down to the middle of his chest from an entry point where his throat had been slashed. And one of the two black men had been tied to a tree, and "oh my God, no!" Fish asked, "What's the matter, Ian?" "Look up there Fish, that black guy with the stake through his mouth. That's Jim Biggs, isn't it?" Fish glared speechlessly at our old friend Jim Biggs. We hadn't seen him since we all left Fort Polk. Somehow he had found his way to this country…to his death. I could only conclude by the look on Jim's face and the broken teeth that surrounded the entry point that he had been alive when they did this to him. "Let's get out of here, Fish. We can't help these guys. The VC left them here for someone to find, so I'm not worried that they are waiting in ambush. I've got to call battalion and get them out here." "Ian, what's that note say that's pinned on his chest?" "I think it says…All GI GO HOME IN BOXES."