Our hero knows he’s in serious trouble.
The problem is, there are familiar faces and a question of who is a friend and who is foe made all the more difficult because of the enemy, if it was the enemy, simply because it didn’t look or sound or act like the enemy.
But, it seems our hero has ‘escaped’ and had found his way back home.
Except not quite how he expected it would be.
Rest was impossible while so many thoughts about my recent experiences were swirling around in the back of my head. Now, when thinking it through, it made sense that they make sure I was found alive, but in very bad shape.
Two reasons, one, to remind me that they could do whatever they liked to me, and the second, to appease Breeman, who, no doubt realizing a helicopter was missing, would send out search teams, a no-fly zone or not.
But it was a calculated risk assuming I would not tell Breeman, or someone else, about what had happened to me, whether they believed it or not.
That led to the next thought, why was I still alive. It would be just as easy to kill me and be discovered after dying from injuries received in the crash. Supposition, they still needed me, or, and this was a hail Mary at best, they needed access to the base, and Breeman.
Did that mean either of the two men I’d seen at the other camp would suddenly turn up? My money was on Colonel Bamfield. He was my first Commanding Officer, he had a keen interest in me from the get-go, and he was the one who facilitated my transfer to my current base before I knew he was working for ‘other interests’.
I still didn’t want to think it was the enemy.
Another question popped into my head, what was his, or their, interest in Breeman because the line of questioning centered on her.
My best guess was that it was no accident I was on that helicopter, that she had directed the pilot to make a flyover, and wasn’t expected that we would be shot down and that she had assumed there would be no repercussions on either myself or the pilot.
It was also clear that if she had to explain how I came to be where they found me, and the fact no one had launched a similar attack of the rescue team, that what happened was simply a breach of orders, and a court-martial offense.
It would solve Bamfield and his new friend’s problem. Whatever the outcome of the court-martial she would be sent home, relieved of her command.
It seemed the military, as always, had a mind of its own, and not always have the best interests of its personnel at heart.
I’d soon find out.
© Charles Heath 2019