Litttle ‘S’ looking at the Captain shrugged his shoulders, forcing Spook to say, “Sarge it a 180 mega watt power plant! That’s means 180 million watts!”
“Hell, I read those numbers from that little aluminum plate on the side right here,” Sarge said motioning to the generator, “What the hell does that tell me in English?”
“Pop," what Spook is trying to tell you this is a hell of a large power plant. In plain English, as you say, one million watts of power equates to about the amount of energy consumed by 600 to 900 homes in a year. Multiply those homes by 180 and you will see how big this sucker really is! So, do the math!”
“Damn”, said Sarge, “180 times... lets say 650 houses that would be…uh, let’s see…uh…
“Forget the math Pop, the answer is close to 90,000 houses! This sucker is putting out enough power to light a small city!”
Spook, Son, do you think this generator is running, right? I can pick up the whining inside, but did you two notice before we came into this building another faint almost inaudible buzzing sound? However, this generator is not producing that buzz. It reminds me of a transformer on a power pole. Listen, there’s something foreboding in that low jet like resonance and we haven’t found its source yet.”
“Your right the generator is working fine and putting out plenty of juice, and now that you mention it Pop, yeah, I did hear the humming sound you mentioned but I thought is was coming from this building. But this generator is making the normal whining sounds a generator makes, what I heard reminded me of a very high-pitched note in music,” spoke the Captain.
“Well come on guys lets go get Scout and Teach and find out what’s in this place. We’ve come a long way and I for one would like to see what all the commotion was about,” said Sarge
* * * * *
Leaving the generator building Spook, glancing off to his right, noticed something a few hundred meters farther up the river hidden under a huge piece of camouflage netting. “Sarge! Captain! Take a look at that,” he said pointing his finger in the objects direction.
“Let’s go take a gander (look) at that thing,” Sarge said as he turned and walked in its direction.
Neared the covered object the high-pitched whine got a little louder, or stronger. Seeing it up close they estimated the height to be approximately twenty feet and appeared to be something circular tilted sideways at an angle. All three grasped the camouflage netting and pulled. The netting slid easily off the slick plastic-like object exposing the most gorgeous white ‘dish’ thing they had ever seen. Painted in the center of the ‘disk’ was an approximate three-foot blue oval with three yellow pyramids on one side, a face, a lion, a cow and an eagle on the other side both sides divided by a white bolt of lightning.
The Captain spoke first, “Spook, you’ve got more education that I, what in the hell is this thing? And what does that symbol mean in the center?"
Spook, started walking around the ‘thing’ and simultaneously ran his hand along its smooth edge mumbling to himself, “Spook!” said the Captain. “Spook!”
Spook, as if dreaming, startled awake suddenly and responded, “Sorry…. sorry, this is what is humming! Standing up close, as we are, we cannot hear it as well but touch the slick white surface and you can “feel” the sound, and Sarge using your vernacular: I have no 'idee' (idea) what to make of the design."
Sarge grinned at Spooks use of the southern word for 'idea' as both he and the Captain reached out and cautiously, as if the object might shock, touched the ‘dish’ looking phenomenon. Both nodded their heads in agreement with Spook’s assessment, their hands ‘told’ them the ‘thing’ was humming all right. From what kind of material was it made? This they could not agree on. Sarge said maybe metal, Spook thought plastic. Little 'S' even threw some kind of polymer substance into the fray. Final analysis – they really didn’t know.
“Big ‘S’ I believe this humming is the cause of the lack of animals and birds in this vicinity, what do you think,” asked Spook’?
“Probably right Spook, well one things for damn sure, this ‘dish’ thing, covered with this camouflage netting, would never have been seen on any aerial photographs!” Sarge commented as he turned and started walking back toward the house. “Come on guys let’s go find out what’s in the ‘big’ house.”
* * * * *
Turning the corner of the house, at the now defused Ma Deuce machine gun emplacement, the ground they walked on suddenly rocked and undulated up and down mimicking a minor earthquake. Before the three had time to gather their thoughts to rationalize what was happening they were bombarded with an explosive roar and the awfulness of a tremendous blast of heat smashing into their bare faces.
The fierce force of the explosion knocked them flat upon the ground. Dust and debris rained down on them from the sky. Sarge and the Captain looked at each other, in total disbelief, they… they… were still alive – unbelievable! Spook, however, lay motionless where he fell, exhibiting no indication that he was still among the living.
Sarge managed to struggle to his knees first, rubbing the dust and dirt from his eyes he crawled over to where Spook lay prostrate. Sarge sighed with relief when he realized Spook was alive. He just had the wind knocked out of him. Sarge began checking his own body for injuries. He seemed in one piece and uninjured too. He checked Spook for the second time; he still seemed unharmed, likewise with Captain Scarburg. It was a miracle they were all unhurt.
Regaining their footing the three surveyed the immediate vicinity; a blue/black smoke with a familiar bituminous smell tinged with a soft pink color darkened the air in front of the two-storied house. This worried Sarge – he had seen the pink colored vapor earlier – it was a bad sign.
He inhaled its fumes – a slight hint of the smell of almonds. Sarge’s nose told him what the explosion was – Composition C4. He had smelled its deadly almond smell and experienced its astringent taste many times before. Now that he knew what caused the explosion, he had to find out its origin and to whom the atomized blood belonged that was now drifting aimlessly around the area at the beckon of the wind.
* * * * *
Earlier when they climbed over the dirt berm into the yard of the Pac Toul enclosure Sarge had noticed a small dug well centrally located in the midst of the ‘village’. He easily identified the well due to its wooden frame structure, roof and rope wound windless.
The area around the well took on the appearance of a bomb crater – bits of wood from the windless and pieces of rope lay burning, all strewn around and about the entire area. The well had been disintegrated into oblivion. Nothing remained but a huge smoke filled crater giving Sarge and the others the appearance that a small volcano had erupted in the yard.
Teach and the Scout were noticeably absent; both were curiously AWOL (Absent Without Leave).
The tremendous explosive noise was so loud people in Thailand probably glanced toward the South to ascertain the source of the sonic boom. Sarge scanned the moonscape like scene and feared the worse for his two friends.
The three walking toward the smoldering ruins of the water well began seeing scraps of green cloth (Army fatigues they reasoned), still smoldering. Flesh, bone and other gruesome blood soaked pieces of human anatomy that needs no further description lay everywhere. The clincher was the smoldering remnant of A Tree Grows in Brooklyn... the Betty Smith paperback that Teach had been reading. They now realized this debris was all that was left of Teach and Scout.
Sarge now understood the ‘source’ of the explosion, but he had to guess its cause. Wanting a cool drink of water brought Teach and the Scout over to the well. Knowing the well of water would be cool and refreshing… one started cranking the windless to lower the bucket down into the well.
To avoid easy detectability a charge of C4 was hidden underneath the inside edge of the well probably containing a tripwire connected to the windless. Obviously it wasn’t detected… and just as obvious the person that set the charge used considerably more
C4 than necessary based upon the size of the crater it created. "Damn," said Sarge, “they must have used three or four sticks!!"
The rain, almost as hard as before, began blowing the smoke away from what used to be the well. It ceased being a well and was now nothing but a huge hole in the wet earth with no signs of Sarge’s missing men. Rain soaked, the three, stood on its rim looking down into the crater. Each, in their own way, offered a silent prayer to their fallen comrades.
Taking a closer look at the grief stricken individuals standing at the edge of the smoking abyss one would be able to recognize a simple tear swelling in the eye’s corner. It has been said there is veneration in tears; they are not the sign of weakness, but of fortitude. They are the external expression of overwhelming sorrow and of angelic devotion…and…
Sarge thought, ’now we are down to Three!’…
CHAPTER TWENTY- SEVEN
THE HOUSE
After months of preparation, hours of flying time, daring night parachute jumps, trudges down muddy trails, mosquitoes infested swamps, fighting snakes, Russians and avoiding croc’s the gallant men of SF OPS ODA-113 Code Name: ‘Photo Search’ had begun its mission with all its high hopes, great expectations and 13 brave dedicated men. The time had finally arrived!!
Now only three remained to enter the house at Pac Toul to solve the riddle of The P.H.O.T.O.
Men such as: Staff Sergeant William ‘Jesse’ James; Sergeant First Class Charles 'Doc Mayo' Hellmans; Sergeant First Class Thomas “Bonnie” Clyde; Sergeant First Class Thaddeus 'Teach' Collins; Sergeant First Class Jim Bo 'Tex' De Luca; and Five Daniel Boone ARVN scouts – now only three: Sergeant First Class Robert Scarburg, Sr, Captain Robert Scarburg, Jr and Dr. Spurgeon Loo Kim remained alive to complete the mission.
* * * * *
Big ‘S’, Little ‘S’ and Spook walked confidently toward the doors to the two-storied wood, stone and brick constructed French colonial plantation house. Painted in brilliant white it reminded Little ‘S’ of the majestic old antebellum houses of the American south.
Side by side the three marched, defiantly, silently, resolutely up the five brick and stone steps leading to the huge Mahogany double doors. The front porch extended the entire length of the front and extended upwards two stories. It was supported by massive carved columns reminiscence of elegant days long ago.
Without a touch or even a glance at the doors handle Sarge took the entrance doors key - in the form of his big size twelve Corcoran jump boot and separated the doors from their hinges with one swift kick.
The fixation on the doors was so vivid in their minds the fear of booby traps or hidden explosives meant little at this moment in time. The three had been through so much, got involved in practically every adventure and stared death in the face so many times, kicking in that door at this moment was anti-climactic; it bothered them not in the least.
They were hoping some type of armed resistance would be on the other side of these huge doors. All they could think about was discovering the secret of The P.H.O.T.O. ... and now, most of all... payback... payback... for their ten companions lying, or parts of them lying, stone cold dead over a large portion of this wretched country. Payback!! That’s what they wanted… PAYBACK...!!! PAYBACK...!!!
Drenched soaking wet to the bone all three stepped through the open hole into the first floor of the ‘house’. They stood staring at one huge room, totally empty and encompassing the entire first floor. The air inside was cool but more importantly, at the moment, dry.
The ceiling ornately plastered in the French Renaissance style looked down on the uninvited guests from a height of two stories.
The second floor contained a beautiful white-railed mezzanine, which bounded three sides of the expansive room; the back and both sides. Ornately carved escutcheons that conspicuously decorated each supporting column around the entire upper floor walkway enhanced the beauty.
The cool inside air announced the building was air-conditioned but empty as a tomb – not one piece of furniture - no tables, no chairs, no rugs – nothing. Nothing... included the lack of decorations such as painting or shelving on the walls. Before being stripped the house’s ostentatiousness implied the ‘main’ house probably belonged to a wealthy French plantation owner.
The opulent floor, constructed of beautiful Mahogany wood planking, highly glossed and sporting a spit-polished shine announced in its glistening reflection a luxurious white marble staircase at the far end of the room. The stairs began at the gorgeous floor level and graciously curved to the luxuriant upper mezzanine. The gracefulness of its design only broken by a single landing, which divided the stairs into two sets; one ascending right and the other left, both culminating on the second story mezzanine. Along the mezzanine walkway could be seen a number of closed doors.
* * * * *
Something in this reflection caught Sarge and the Captain’s eye - a sign painted on the wall at the head of the stairs, directly above the landing.
The sign printed in French with bold black letters on a pure white-stuccoed wall read:
PHOTOGRAPHIQUES TELEMETRIQUE HISTOIRES DE PERSOnneL
The three stood mesmerized… they seemed unable to move their transfixed eyes from the sign…. at last Sergeant Scarburg – leader of the remainder of OPS 113 “Photo Search” team spoke up, “Okay you two LINGUISTIC EXPERTS tell me what that sign says!”
Captain Scarburg and Dr. Spurgeon Loo Kim conferred with each other for a couple of moments, turned and one of them said softly (as if someone might hear), which one actually related the words to MSG Scarburg is unknown but he said the best translation of the French sign into English was:
PHOTOGRAPHIC HISTORIES OF TELEMETRIC OCCURRENCES
Both agreed the translation might not be totally accurate since some of the French words used are archaic and not in common usage today. “Sorry," said the Captain, “that’s about as good as we can get it.”
“That’s fine guys,” Sarge stepped back and stared at the wall. “Spook, would you do me a favor, go back out into the yard and find me a stick with plenty of burnt charcoal on it, would your please?”
Quizzically Spook answered, "Okay Serge, right away.” Spook’s jungle boots made wet sloshing sounds as he hurried to the hole masquerading as the front doors. In the bat of an eye he returned with the requested item. “Here’s the stick Big ‘S’,” presenting the burnt object to Sarge.
“Spook’ would you do me one more favor?”
“Of course, tell me what you want,” said Spook
Sarge said, “Please take the piece of wood and write as you would with a piece of chalk your English translation beneath that French sign?”
Spook without question, doing as Sarge asked, proceeded up the staircase to the center landing. He reached high with his blacken ‘piece of chalk’ and wrote the English translation underneath the French text. Returning to stand with Sarge and the Captain they all gazed at the writings on the wall. “Thanks Spook you did good.”
* * * * *
Sarge hollered out loud, yes hollered, “Damn, I know the answer! You discovered the answer Spook, just now!!”
“Me… Me… Sarge I didn’t say anything…”
“No… No… Spook, your nickname, Spook, the one the guys gave you the first day at camp Polei Kleng, remember? Spook – SP from Spurgeon, the OO from Loo and the K from Kim, remember? Spook you are an expert in deciphering code look at those words you wrote on the wall: “P for Photographic - H from Histories - O from Of - T from Telemetric and lastly the O from Occurrences. See...! See...! Damn… don’t you see it…!!!
P.H.O.T.O.
We found the answer...! Hell yes that’s it… P.H.O.T.O… Now we have to find out what “Photographic Histories of Telemetric Occurrences” mean. I believe, since this floor is empty, our answers will be upstairs in the ‘workroom’ as ‘Sam’ confessed back in the cave.
“Pop, take a look at the individual words – Photographic: that has to be something do wi
th photographs; Histories: must be something in the past; Telemetric: transmitting of radio signals; Occurrences: something that occurred or happened. Put it all together I get: Transmitting by radio photographs something that happened in the past. Does that make any sense to you two?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
THE EQUIPMENT ROOM
“Gentlemen, the reason we came here, I believe, is up those stairs,” Sarge said pointing his finger toward the marble staircase. “We came to do a job and I’ll be damned if we ain’t going to do it or die trying. Come on!”
Turning he started up the stairs… the other two seemingly mesmerized stood looking at the sign and did not move. “Get you’re asses in gear! The worst that can happen is we get killed, but what’s new! Come on mount up!”
The word ‘kill’ shook them out of their momentary trance and they fell in behind Sarge and cautiously began working their way up the stairs. When the landing was reached, Sarge said to the Captain and Spook, “You two go up those stairs," pointing to the left staircase, "and I’ll go up this side. Check all the rooms. Find out what’s here, holler out if you discover anything.” With these instructions the three began their exploration of the upper floor of the Pac Toul ‘mansion’.
The only noise Sarge could hear as he guardedly walked from the top of the stairs was the creaking... squeaking... sound of the hard leather soles of his big number 12s on the gorgeous wooden floored mezzanine.
The first door he approached, he opened cautiously - remembering the experience with the Ma Deuce and the drinking well downstairs. He turned, before stepping into the room, and glanced across the wide expanse of nothingness to the mezzanine on the other side of the wide room.
He could see Little ‘S’ and Spook gently opening the door they first approached with as much, if not more, caution as Sarge had just done. Sarge thought with a slight grin, ‘funny how the almond smell of C4 will put a little caution back into your step’.