Maria de Tounens-excerpt of “On the run”, by Mario Salazar

Maria de Tounens

In 1641 the Spanish monarchy signed a peace treaty with the Mapuche Nation that inhabited territory of what today is Chile and Argentina. Almost continuous conflict between the Spanish and the Mapuche had drained the coffers of the European nation with no positive results. After this treaty, the Mapuche became the first independent nation in the Western Hemisphere. An uneasy peace followed, with frequent violations of the treaty by both parties.

In 1860 the Mapuche nation headed by the troika of Lonkos Kilapan of Gulumapu, Kalfucura of Puelmapu, and Orélie-Antoine de Tounens (French born naturalized Mapuche), established a constitutional monarchy on their lands in the Southern Cone of South America. The response by Chile and Argentina was to declare war on the newly created monarchy that resulted in the defeat of the Mapuche, the destruction of the monarchy and the annexation of the land by these two nations.

Ahead of the persecution that would follow, all functionaries of the monarchy fled. Maria’s family relocated in Cochabamba, Bolivia.

Maria had been raised in a middle-class family, as her father was a dentist and her mother a teacher. Upon learning of her ancestry, she became a firebrand for Native American rights. As part of these process she changed her name from Maria Bravo to Maria de Tounens. Eventually she moved to Uruguay and answered a job offering for the Company in which Francisco Gallo worked.

She would always remember the job interview with Francisco. She had dressed rather exotically. She wore a long flowing blouse that she had gotten from a trip to Otavalo, Ecuador, brushed leather pants with fringes and moccasins. The attire was a combination of pieces that she had picked up in her travels while a good will ambassador for Native Americans. The moccasins had been given to her by the San Carlos Apache tribe of New Mexico.

Francisco had been intrigued with Maria’s application and did not bat an eye when he gave her access at the lobby of the building. He did notice her long slim body and her chiseled facial features. Notwithstanding her attire, she could have been a light-skin Ethiopian model.

When they arrived at the conference room where the interview had been scheduled, Francisco inquired, “What would you like to drink?”

Sitting down Maria chose, “I would like water with gas, I mean ‘club soda’, please.”

Francisco opened a refrigerator in the back of the room and served Maria the water. He then sat down, reviewed her credentials and asked some questions related to Maria’s work with causes. He then unexpectedly reverted to English and asked her, “What of value can you offer us if we hire you?”

Without hesitation Maria responded in clear and slightly accented English, “I am a self-starter, work independently and I am stubborn as hell, I always get the work done.”

Francisco then asked her, “I see that while you appear to have some knowledge of computers, you don’t have any formal training for the position that you are interviewing for. Why should we hire you?”

Maria looked him in the eyes and responded, “I have a logical mind and have found any challenges I had regarding informational technology easy to overcome. I can guarantee that I will be your best assistant in less than six months”.

Her prediction was too conservative. In three months she had become indispensable in the office.

No light at the end of the tunnel

No light at the end of the tunnel

He ran down the cylindrical tunnel, there were doors alternating each side every 20 yards or so. As he reached the doors, discovered that they were painted on the side of the tunnel, he could not find a way out. Miguel woke up sweating and with his left arm and shoulder dumb, from the posture of his sleep.

The attack on Dionisio the day before had been a wakeup call. There were too many unanswered questions with the incident. His subconscious was telling him that there were dangerous days ahead. He decided to confront Dionisio that same day. It was only six in the morning, he would get ready, have a cup of coffee and wait for Dionisio to wake up.

Miguel was pleasantly surprised when he entered the kitchen and found Dionisio there already having a cup of coffee. He had gotten out of bed, made coffee and was waiting for him, maybe. He appeared to be wearing his night clothes and had a resolute look in his face.

As Miguel made his presence obvious with a – “Good morning Dio, kind of early for you?”

Dionisio lifted his face and without even a smile said, — “Good morning (he still has not figured out how to address Miguel), I have something to tell you.”

As Miguel looked expectantly, Dio continued, — “The mugging is not a single case, I have been having problems with this gang for a while. Seems that this time they were ready to kill me.”

As Miguel got a cup of coffee and sat down, Dio added more.

“Some months ago, I was asked a favor by Vanesa, a person I knew. I didn’t know her well enough, so I didn’t know she was heavily involved with the MS13 gang. I knew her casually from high school, she was the kind of girl that was above my league, so I had admired her from a distance.”

“I was at the Roy Rogers and I had just noticed her and had waived, when two policemen, probably in their lunch break came in the door. She immediately approached me, sat at my table and while she slipped a small package into my backpack, deposited her food bag on the table. She started talking as if we had been together all along. I had to admire her skills, but at the same time should have realized the kind of deceit in her.”

“After the cops got their order and left to sit outside, she finished her food and waited for the cop cars to drive off. She told me that she owed me one and would put in a good word for me. She then retrieved the package from my backpack and with a radiant smile and a bat of her long eyelashes, she left.”

Dio then stopped and looked at Miguel expecting questions, when none came he continued, “About one week later, a guy that looked like he was the poster child for Central American gangs, approached while I was sitting on the sideline of a pickup soccer game at the Centerway Park. He told me that he had gotten really good recommendations about me, and that I could be made very happy in his outfit.”

“I must have looked at him as if he was speaking Greek to me, because he clarified his words. He told me that he was in the MS13, gang ‘the only and the original’ and that he could get me in the gang. He said Vanesa had spoken well about me and that I could be a person to be trusted.”

“He then told me that since I looked like a “good American boy”, the MS13 could use me for some jobs were stealth was necessary. Yea, I was surprised he used stealth, I had to look it up.”

On the run by Mario Salazar, read at the last two meetings.

Please note: This is a first, stream of consciousness draft. Please comment on content, not grammar. I will have this edited later.

Dio gets carless 

            Dio woke up that morning with new hope. His talk with Miguel had revamped his decision to turn a new leaf and maybe restart his college plans. He decided to walk to the county library to do some research on classes at the local community college.

He decided to take the short cut to the library. It would take him through the park that surrounded the artificial lake that was the crown jewel of the neighborhood. He used this short cut often, even when it was not a true shorter way.

As he crowned the top of a hill and started to descent into the lake shore, he noticed a young man leaning against a fence that separated the trail from the lake and was probably built to prevent bike riders from going into the lake.

As he approached the young man he noticed him to be slight and probably Latino. Knowing that as a more corpulent person he could hold his own, he approached.

The young man, in a casual way addressed him, – “Hey man, do you have some change?”.

Dio stopped and as he started looking in his pockets for some lose change, he looked away for a second. He felt the thud of the punch on the left side of his face just above the eye. The pain was followed by starts and he lost consciousness.


Miguel was wondering why Dio had not been at the house when he woke up. Dio had shown gratitude at being able to stay, and had listened to Miguel’s remarks about the need to think of his future.

When his portable phone buzzed late in the afternoon, he was tempted to ignore it. However, he answered cautiously – “What can I do for you?”

“This is nurse Neela from the Holy Cross Hospital in Germantown. Mr. Dionisio Serga asked me to contact you regarding a crime he was a victim of this morning. First let me tell you that he is OK, he needed some stitches and we have given him a prescription for pain pills. He is a little groggy as he has already been medicated.”

Miguel thought about what he has just learned and after a few seconds asked, – “If you don’t’ mind telling me, why are you calling me?’

A little taken by surprised the nurse responded, – “He has given us your name and phone number as the person to contact. While he appears to be fine, the hospital would rather he goes home. Apparently, he doesn’t have insurance and we have to exhaust all avenues to have him discharged, as we need the beds.”

For paying patients. Thought Miguel.

“Sure, I will pick him up. Were the police informed?”

“Yes, they were also here and talked to him, but he didn’t have much to say about the incident. They asked him where he lived and he said he was homeless.”

“Can you tell me anything else?”

“He was assaulted at Lake Whetstone by two men. Fortunately, a neighbor walking his dog came upon the scene and the muggers took off running. He called an ambulance and he was bought here.”

Miguel appreciated the presence of mind of Dio not revealing where he was staying and made arrangements to pick him up.

More than a mugging?

It was starting to get dark when Miguel got in his car to pick up Dio at the hospital. He was using a ten-year-old Toyota Celica that gave him the profile he wanted, minimal.

As he drove the five miles to the hospital he tried to organize his thoughts. It wasn’t like him to be caught off guard with a situation like this. But again, how can one plan for the unexpected? Maybe setting up levels of awareness would help, what does that really mean? He thought.

As agreed Dio was waiting at the emergency entrance sitting on a wheel chair. A bored orderly smiled when he saw Miguel’s plain vanilla car and mentally kissed a good tip goodbye.

Miguel stopped, got out of the car and approached the duo and said to Dio as he helped him get into the passenger seat, “Wow, that is some bandage, you look like you had major brain surgery”.

Dio looked at him with a dazed stare and did not appear to understand the attempted humor by Miguel. Then smiled and said, “You should see the other guy.”

Defying stereotypes, Miguel produced a five-dollar bill and gave it to the orderly who tried not very strongly to not accept it. Upon the former’s insistence, the orderly pocketed the fin and decided that he would follow his father’s advice to be more optimistic about human nature.

As Miguel pulled away from the curb he asked Dio, “So, how bad is it? It is difficult to tell with all that gauze on it.”

Dio took out his phone and after some swiping he waited for a light to show the selfie he had taken just before they had glued the wound.

“That doesn’t look like a normal punch to me, I bet the guy was using brass knuckles.” Remarked Miguel as he drove off.

Dio thought for a while and responded, “All I know is that I felt like someone had scrambled my brains with a baseball bat, I was out cold and remembered only when I was being put into the ambulance.”

Miguel thought, this I not a mugging, they wanted to harm badly or kill him. I have to find out what is behind this.

Dio was starting to wrestle on whether he should come clean. This M13 shit is not going away, he thought.

Except from “On the run”, by Mario Salazar

In a Maryland suburb of Washington, DC

Miguel’s home in Maryland was in a planned community about 30 miles from the DC line and had been built in the late 1960s. He chose it for its anonymity and privacy. It was a small one floor detached house with a zero-lot line on one side. It had an eight-foot wall that surrounded the building and yard and it was almost impossible to be viewed from outside. A mail slot on the door hid the fact that mail could be accumulating inside and Miguel’s frequent visits kept the house clean and anonymous.

This development was favored by transient people that rented or retired people that were away for months during the year. The fact that he was seldom there was not unusual.

He also paid a young man to keep the outside trim and anonymous. In the three years that he had owned the house, everything had gone well and there wasn’t anything to make the house unusual.

When Miguel arrived unexpectedly at around 2:00 AM, he set in motion a series of events that threatened his secret existence.

Miguel used his remote garage opener and rode his vehicle in. He entered the house proper through a common door. As he deactivated his security system and turned around, he was confronted by a young man holding a baseball bat in a defensive posture. Apparently, the young man that he had paid to keep the outside of the house in good shape had figured out that Miguel was seldom in it and had moved in, expecting to time his exit to sync with Miguel’s next regular trip.

As Miguel calmly assessed the situation he recognized Dionisio Serga, the young man that had been maintaining the outside of his house and made a guess of why he was there.  Dionisio had also recognized him and was probably also thinking how to explain his trespasses, as he lowered the bat.

Miguel waited until both he and Dionisio had taken a deep breath and then he asked: “How would you like a cup of coffee?”

“Uh…, no thanks”

Miguel proceeded to the kitchen and remarked:

“Well, I definitely could use one”

Dionisio followed Miguel into the kitchen and sat at the breakfast table and quietly observed coffee been made.

While waiting for the brew, Miguel joined Dionisio at the dinette and asked him: – “How do you think we should resolve this situation?”

Surprised, Dionisio took a few minutes to formulate an answer – “First let me tell you why I was crashing in your house. My mom remarried about one year ago and I don’t like my stepfather and he doesn’t like me either. He finally gave my mom and ultimatum that it was either him or me.”

“I didn’t give my mom a chance to choose and told her that I would leave. She seemed relieved by my decision. I went to live with a friend, but his girlfriend just moved in also and the place is very small. I had figured out that you only come about every six weeks and decided to move in instead of living on the street or a shelter. The money I earn is not enough for me to get a half way decent room. As you can see, I have kept the place extremely clean and no one knows I am staying here. I come in late at night and leave through the back gate after most people have left for work.”

Miguel had hoped for this type of answer from the boy. He liked the fact that he hadn’t tried to deny fault and that he appeared sincere. He also noticed that the home was impeccable, as if no one lived in it.

He got up and asked Dionisio to go back to sleep and promised that they would come up with a solution the next morning. The boy appeared grateful that he wasn’t going to spend the night outside. Miguel was also thankful that Dionisio had used the extra bedroom and not his. It kind of told him that he was not intent of just taking advantage of him.

Trip to the Middle by Mario Salazar

The trip to the Middle

On the morning of the trip Jon A again questioned himself whether his trip to the Middle was such a good idea. The last few days spent with Fernanda A had a lot to do with his reluctance. While she knew and she had promised that she would be waiting for him. Leaving was still very hard.

With thoughts of “this is a small sacrifice….” He got himself ready and walked to the “footer” that would transport him to the mag station. Besides the clothes on his back, he carried a small book size bag with his papers, communicator and an energy dehi in case he got hungry. He had been told that his luggage and equipment would be waiting for him at the transition area.

The abrupt notification that he had reached his destination almost made him lose hold of the footer handles. Of course, there was very little to worry about since the safety net would have caught him, with probably a little laughter and good intended ridicule from his fellow riders.

At his arrival, he followed the crowd to the terminal. A syn-Porter at the door eyed each person and pointed to the door for each passenger to go. His completely natural voice reinforced his directive, “Jon A, good morning professor, door three please.” Three appeared to be his lucky number. He knew that as an approved visitor of the middle, he would be placed in the first train to depart. Reminding travelers of the benefits of his current place residence was another way of trying to improve the chances that he would return.

After making himself comfortable in his seat he looked around. He saw several other persons that would probably be travelling with him to the Middle. They all looked excited and a little apprehensive. The nearest person to him, a middle-aged woman, smiled and inquired, “What is it that you wish to find in the Middle?”. Jon A liked the direct approach and the smiley face and bright intelligent eyes of his travel companion.

“I am Jon A, I am interested in the past and believe that my trip will improve my teaching. I think seeing the past as the present will also be very interesting and an experience of a life time. By the way, I throw the same question to you.”

“I am Bella TA and I am coming back to the Middle. I was fascinated by some of the people and way of life in the Middle. I am an Anthropologist by profession and work for the government.” The two initials after her name indicated that she had been born on land and had moved to one of the sea colonies. This was unusual as most people wanted to stay and/or live on land.

After a few seconds, Jon A asked, “Is this a work trip then?”

She shook her head and remarked, “No I am doing this as part of a personal project, I want to write a book comparing our form of life and the life in the Middle. I know that this is a very challenging task, but I don’t think my approach has been used before.”

Putting his academic hat on Jon A asked, “What do you think is the most blaring difference between the two modes of life?”.

Bella TA thought for a few seconds and responded, “To me the fact that a significant number of people rather live a life of variable potential is fascinating. We in the World know what our lives are and will be, and find that very comforting, they reject that premise. What makes a person like that?”

This simple statement made Jon A think. What were his real reasons for his trip?

Before the trip to the Middle

The thought of absence makes the heart fonder

Jon A received a very fast authorization to travel to the Middle. Included were instructions on how to update his self-chip to receive new and more protective features. He was also guided to the relocation center where the work would be done.

The relocation center was only a few minutes away from his place of work. After teaching his classes that some time ended with spontaneous applause, alas not this time, he walked to the nearest “footer” station. He made a smooth transition into the continuous travel belt, inserting his foot easily into the stirrup. He remembered how when he was young he overthought this process and was always afraid of falling. He arrived at the relocation center in less than 10 minutes. While walking had been an option, he had done an extra 30 minutes of exercise that morning and after standing on his feet for three hours teaching he was a little tired.

As he entered the center he saw that additional finger stations had been put into operation. There were now five as well as a “manual” booth at the end for those that needed special assistance. For symmetry, he chose the middle one and inserted his index finger in the reader. This action coupled with the simultaneous reading of his self-chip by surrounding sensors prompted a response, “Jon A. Frisco, please proceed to door number three (again the middle door), please take your token”. A small disk the size of a dollar coin was ejected from a rectangular opening just below the reader and Jon A took it. The disk contained hash information that would key the type of process and materials that Jon A would need for his trip and stay in the Middle.

Upon opening the assigned door, Jon A inserted the disk in the front of the Human Services Combine or “hiss” as was commonly referred. A feminine voice instructed, “Please disrobe and place your feet in the marks on the floor”. Jon A looked down and saw a projected image of feet and stood on it. Jon A complied and removed his one piece garment.

He was also advised, “Please lower the harness and locate it on your shoulders, be sure to insert your head in the loop, your arms must hang loosely and straight down your torso.” After a few seconds, he was admonished “Please rotate your pelvis forward, so that your arms hang more naturally”. After this final instruction, the machine appeared to be satisfied and asked Jon A to breath normally.

What followed was a choreographed performance worthy of a ballet. He was given three air injections, a sensor searched and found his self-chip and updated it and several images to be used for his travelling and identifying documents were taken. With a very soft touch an instrument prodded his body, obtained and recorded his vital signs: temperature, blood pressure, height, weight and body mass index. The government was always collecting data, but especially from people travelling to the Middle. The data collected now would be compared with that collected upon his return.

Not giving Jon a chance to feel uncomfortable, the whole process ended in less than three minutes. Jon A was further asked, “Please get dressed and place your communicator in the spot marked by the blue light, we will update your data bases, add others and upload your travel authorization documents, transportation tickets and schedules. You will find other physical needs in the basket near the exit door, make sure you compare the inventory with the actual objects to make sure you have everything. If there is a discrepancy, we will resolve it immediately. Please make sure to retrieve your communicator and to gather the rest of the items before you leave the room.” After a few seconds the voice returned, “your communicator is now ready, please fetch it. Thank you for your patience.”

With a smile of satisfaction for having completed all his pre-trip tasks, Jon A started to think how he was going to approach the most enjoyable part of his days before the trip.

He was scheduled to take the mag to Terra only two weeks after the Reply. Time flew as it does when a trip is eminent.  Jon A decided to spend as much time as possible with his pair. They have selected to pair with each other through a very long process and as was the norm, she was everything he would have wished. He had been given assurances by her that he was also what she ever wished for.

As he entered the manifold to the podhive she lived in, he started thinking of the little time that he would have with her and how to best use it.

He inserted his finger in the finder and his image appeared in her communicator. She immediately activated the access button for him to be able to enter her pod.

She was at the door to greet him, “Hello love, I really want to give you a send off that you will not forget.” She held him tight and presented her lips for him to kiss.

“Fernanda A, it has been so long or seemed so long”. They had actually seen each other less than two days before.

She was dressed in his favorite attire. Al low cut blouse tied pirate style just below hear firm bust, courtesan pants and no shoes. The outfit really framed her strong athletic body and her voluptuous derriere. Her hair was up showing off her picaresque profile.

As he entered the public part of the pod he noticed that she had been busy setting up a feast. He first saw the oysters on the half shell and the salty lemonade that he liked so much. Small bowls with minced ginger, finely cut onions, Siracha sauce, lemon quarters and everything else that a raw oyster eater would have dreamed.  He knew that after the sumptuous appetizer, there would be a very blue piece of prime rib to enjoy with horse radish sauce. She had gone all out and probably had made a dent in her exotic food budget, especially considering the delicacies that she had and intended to serve.

He hugged again and expressed his joy, “Wow, this is out of this world, and a prelude to what I think one of the most wonderful nights of my life.”

She blushed and her eyes sparkled with anticipation. Reminded him of the lyrics of the old Bob Dylan song,

She wears an Egyptian ring that sparkles before she speaks.

Fernanda A did not need a ring. This scenario was to be repeated in the days before his trip.

Excerpt from Terra-Aqua, a novel by Mario Salazar

The Reply

Jon A. Frisco woke up unaware that his living pod colony had been submerged during the night to protect against gusty winds and high waves. He did notice that some of the barely noticeable grime on his clear top was gone, but didn’t think twice. Not that being aware would have made any difference. Aqua colonies were superbly automated and many mechanical actions were not noticed or in fact consciously affected residents.

His normal routine of exercise and grooming had been impacted by the Reply that he had been summoned at precisely 10:00 AM. He took special care with his grooming, more to give himself more assurance than to impress his Listeners that had scheduled the Reply.

After a short period of checking his communicator and Self-Chip, in which he found out about the immersion, he had his normal breakfast of Herring flavored protein, eggs, bread and multi-juice he went to the Reunion space in his pod to get ready for the transmission of the Reply.

At the stroke of 10 three holograms zoomed into the Reunion space. Two females and one male. As it was typical for the last couple of decades, the three appeared very like each other. The only difference was the hairdo that tried to point to each one’s ethnicity. The old prediction made by José de Vasconcelos that we would all become one race, the cosmic race, was more evident each decade.

Without any preamble, the spokesperson identified herself – “I am Chloe T. and these are Chamorro A.T. and Sue A.”. As required, all geographic sectors were represented.

“We recommend that you keep your Self-Chip active during the Reply. If you don’t be aware that we three will keep ours active.”

Jon A. informed them – “I will keep it on”

Chloe T. continued – “To summarize, we are here to consider your request for a Reply for you to travel to the Center, for an indefinite time but no more than two years. We will make a statement, may ask you questions, will answer yours and will use this whole meeting to determine the merits of your request.” There was some irony in this statement as neither Jon A. nor the other two persons represented by the holograms new where the others were. Laws demanded anonymity when addressing the type of Reply being considered.

Jon A. gave a brief reply indicating agreement and understanding.

Chloe T. then engaged in a long admonishment of what the granting of the request would mean and how it would impact Jon A.

“Requests of this type are usually made by people that have transitioned to land. We consider that this gradual set of events bode well for the success of the trip into the Center. Your request is a little out of the ordinary and the Council only considered your request because you have demonstrated an unusual degree of commitment to community. We think that your maturity will be a safeguard to protect you in the Center and to retain you. The outcome will depend greatly on the answers to our questions. Do you understand?”

“I do, I would not have made the request if I had not been sure of my goals and my intentions to return to Aqua upon the completion of my sabbatical.”

Jon A. continued – “I have obtained assurances from Leonides A. that he will undertake all my academic responsibilities. I will pay him back by taking his classes when he goes on sabbatical in two years.”

Chloe T. appeared annoyed when she confirmed – “Yes, Jon A. we are fully aware of that”

She continued – “While we are sure that as a past-vision academic you know much about the Center, its origin, people and governments, we are required by law to remind you of some salient points.”

“The Center was agreed upon after extremely hard negotiations. We came to the realization that the majority’s idea of the ideal way of life was not for all. A segment of the population chose to live in a more open and hazardous way, even if it meant that they would not have all the technological advances that we enjoy. While we have strived for more globalization, people from the Center want to remain “unique” as they describe it. This means that many of the rules that we live by are not applicable there and that they have some rules that to us don’t make sense. While you are visiting, you must abide by their rules. To complicate things, the Center that you intend to visit, as you know, is comprised of seven different governments and a number of Native American Lands that also have their own authorities and rules.”

Chloe T. paused and took a drink. Jon A. thought to himself that she wasn’t a robot or a computer-generated image as some had suggested.

She continued – “Religion is very much a presence there. While our religious organizations have almost disappeared after they became subject to the same ethical, financial and political laws as all other organizations, many of the same laws that applied in the 21st Century are in effect there, mainly they are not taxed. Please stay away from polemic about religion.”

“Fire arms, fortunately as modified to minimize human death, are openly carried in most of the jurisdictions. Your Self-Chip will be modified to provide you with a degree of protection when confronted with deadly force. Upon your activation or as increased analysis of your Self-Chip data that clearly suggest danger, you may be extracted and your visit will end, to great expense in the part of your government, I may add.”

“You will be provided with a breathing enhancer until you can assimilate the atmospheric conditions. Fossil fuel is widely used there and some of our visitors have problem assimilating. For this reason and not to make you an obvious target, you will be given time to get used to it in the transition zone. We suggest that you discontinue the use of the enhancer before you enter the Center proper.”

“You will be able to terminate your visit prematurely at any time. It may take several days to provide you with safe transportation out. My only question is a general one the you already answered, why do you want to spend so much time in the Center?”

Jon A. figured that they wanted to gauge his commitment to his already given answer – “I am really interested in the way the Center operates as a window into the past. I also want to write a book about it.”

Jon A.’s answer appeared to satisfy the three and Chloe T. asked – “Do you have any question from me or one of the others?”

Jon A. thought for a few seconds and inquired – “How do I pay for services and objects while there? I understand that I am not allowed to carry what they call legal tender.”

Chamorro A.T. chose to answer the question – “Your credits chip can be used in 95% of venues. You will also be provided with a complementary sum of script that can be used in most of the other venues. We will replenish the amount as it becomes necessary. We will give you a data base with the places where you can use your credits chip, where script is necessary and where you can replenish script. Before you incur any expense, please make sure to check the data base. The data base will also provide details if your become ill and need health services.”

After a few minutes of silence, Sue A. provided closing by an appeal to his emotions and sense of civility. – “Our government has spent a lot of effort and resources to provide you with a life that is both satisfactory to you and that contributes to the planet’s improvement. You are also near the front of a long cue to be considered for transfer to Terra Firma”, she used the archaic term with gusto to emphasize the importance of her words.

Sue A. closed the encounter by suggesting a two-week target for a final answer. As her words echoed in the pod the hologram disappeared.

The Battle of Soui Tre


Montgomery Village, March 21, 2011 – On March 21, 1967, the battle of Suoi Tre was fought in War Zone C, north west of Saigon.  This battle yielded the highest body count of the enemy in a one day battle in Vietnam.  By noon of the 21st, 647 enemy bodies were collected and placed in two huge common graves dug by tanks with optional bulldozer blades.  I remember eating my lunch, of cold C rations, with my legs dangling over the edge of one the graves.  Had to leave before I finished as the smell got overwhelming and because as the result of a discarded cigarette, a corpse’s clothing caught fire, and the smoke was not pleasant.

First let me introduce you to a mechanized Battalion.  It consisted of about 80 Armored Personnel Carriers (APC or tracks).  These were propelled by tracks like a tank, and while not possessing the same armor as a tank, it was an awesome vehicle.  Could go about 45 miles per hour and had amphibious capabilities.  Its weapons were three machine guns, one 50 caliber and 2, 7.62 M60 machine guns.  This is in addition to the individual weapons carried by each member of the squad that they transported.  It was made of aluminum and protective of small arms fire and fragments from a grenade.  Many armies throughout the world still use these vehicles.

The beginning of the operation was marked by missed assignments and “snafus”.  After a saturating artillery fire mission to soften the original landing zone, it couldn’t be used.  The original airlifting of the troops to man the new Fire Support Base Gold, was supposed to take place on March 18.  Because my unit, 2nd Battalion, 22nd Infantry (Mechanized) and an attached armored unit, the 2nd of the 34th Armor, could not secure the assigned clearing in the jungle, the operation was delayed to the next day.  On the 19th, we still couldn’t make it to the assigned location to defend the landing of an artillery unit, 2nd Battalion 77th Artillery Regiment and a protective infantry battalion the 3rd Battalion 22nd Infantry Regiment (part of the Third Brigade, 4th Infantry Division), so the commanding coronel selected a different landing zone and started the operation without the prior securing of the landing zone.

As the second wave of helicopters started to land near the village of Suoi Tre, a remote controlled 155 mm. artillery round improvised explosive device went off and destroyed 2 helicopters and damaged 5 more.  The rest of the landing was contested and several more helicopters were destroyed, notwithstanding the protection of several gunships that had been called to assist in the insertion.

While the helicopter units were fighting to land in the clearing near the abandoned village of Suoi Tre, the other two units of the Third Brigade, 4th Infantry Division, the 2nd Battalion, 22nd Infantry Regiment (us) and the 2nd Battalion, 12th Infantry Regiment and the attached 2nd of the 34th Armor Company, were not making much headway.  While the terrain was dry, almost continuous harassment by the enemy and rough topography had us advance very slowly.

On the 20th, while our tracks came through an opening in a ridge, the leading units were ambushed, and as we watched we saw a rocket propelled grenade (RPG) hit one of the tracks, penetrate the inside of the vehicle, go through a friend of mine and explode, causing several casualties inside.  My friend Frances Smith, from England, died immediately.

That night we laagered on top of a small hill.  It was almost denuded of vegetation, except for a few saplings and termite mounds.  We all knew that the Viet Cong gunners had this hill zeroed in and we would be mortared that night.  To our surprise, we had an uneventful night, except for a rather strange thing that happened to me.  While I sat under one of the trees, eating dinner, a grenade went off by mistake and a fragment of it hit the tree and landed on top of my helmet liner (hard plastic helmet that fits under the steel helmet that we wore then).

After a good night sleep we were aroused to the unusual command of “Pick up and mount up!”  As we “mounted” our tracks, we were further informed that “this is the real thing”.  We were also alerted that if our track became disabled, to abandon it and hitch a ride with the following vehicles.  As we progressed through the jungle, we learned that our sister battalion, the 3rd of the 22nd and the 2nd of the 77th Artillery, were under heavy attack by a large enemy force.  The battle had started early in the morning and some positions had been overran and a “quad fifty” had been captured by the enemy.  A quad fifty is a defensive weapon that was used by artillery units.  It consisted of 4 50 caliber machine guns mounted on a pivoting turret.  It was an awesome weapon.  The message was that unless we reached the assailed units, over 300 of our fellow soldiers would be killed or worse.

The enemy had amassed over 2,500 soldiers in the attack (later information seemed to bring the total number of attacking Viet Cong and NVA to 9,000).  They were composed of 272nd VC Main Force Regiment and the 9th Division.  They had gambled that such and overwhelming superiority would easily turn the battle to their advantage.  Our troops were outnumbered at least 10 to 1.

The race to Fire Support Base Gold at Suoi Tre seemed to take forever, while we were scared to death, we wanted to reach the clearing before too late.  I can’t remember how long it took and as we talked about it much later, there are conflicting versions of the time.

As we reached the clearing the scene that we witnessed was worth the most outrageous Hollywood set.  There was gun and artillery fire everywhere.  The middle of the compromised perimeter was on one edge of the clearing and appeared to be a lights show.  Artillery rounds including white phosphorous and flares, grenades, smoke signal grenades and of all things beer cans, were exploding all around because of the concentrated enemy fire.  Like a good red blooded American unit, they had placed the beer in the best protected place in the perimeter, right along the ammunitions.

The scene reminded me of an old cow boy movie in which the Indians had a wagon train surrounded and the cavalry comes to the rescue.  I can still see the image of about 20 APC’s busting into the clearing with machine guns blasting.

We were immediately approached by soldiers from the 2nd of the 12th, asking for ammunition and water.  As we progressed into the perimeter, our buddies from the 3rd of the 22nd hugged our tracks and told us we had saved their lives.

There were dead and dying enemy everywhere.  Our leading tanks and tracks had caught them by surprise and many had died under the tracks of our vehicles.  We could see some trying to reach the protection of the jungle and not making it.  Those that we couldn’t catch up with, fell to our 50 caliber and M60 machine guns and our M-16 rifles.

I remember getting to our assigned position and getting out to set poles for our mortar gun sites.  As I walked away from the track, I found several of the enemy that were in their last breath.  Some of our troops were coming around making sure it was their last breath.  Active combat was over by around 10:00 AM.  The inventory of the enemy weapons found in the battle field included several hundred RPGs that they intended to use on our unit’s vehicles.  They never got the chance, there was some talk that only one of these RPGs found a target, but did not cause significant damage, and our unit did not suffer casualties of any kind.  It was an almost absolute victory.  Unfortunately the units at the defensive perimeter had lost 33 dead and one missing.  Some of the defensive fox holes on the perimeter held layers of dead bodies, one of our soldiers in the bottom a VC on top, and a live American soldier above with barely enough room to lie down.

During the worst part of the attack, the artillery units fired their guns point blank (in a horizontal position), using what is called canister rounds.  These rounds are full of thousands of small flechettes and are the equivalent of a very large shot gun blast.

After the tanks opened the huge common graves, that were filled with the enemy dead and covered, General Westmoreland’s helicopter landed.  Our unit received the “Presidential Unit Citation” in the following months, the highest award given to a unit in time of war. Only a few of them were awarded during the Vietnam conflict.

The final scene of the movie “Platoon” is a composite of the battles of FSB Gold (Suoi Tre) and FSB Burt that took place in 1968.  Oliver Stone was also in the third brigade about a year later.  We also have an NBA team owner and a very good movie actor, Troy Evans, among the Vietnam 2nd of the 22nd alumni.  The unit uses the moniker “Vietnam Triple Deuce” for its current organization.  We have had a web site and I was the webmaster for several years. Please visit  The site’s purpose is to serve as a historic repository of our experience in Vietnam, and our lives since then.

Mario Salazar, the 21st Century Pacifist, became one after only one year in Vietnam. He is in Twitter (@chibcharus), Google+, LinkedIn and Facebook (Mario Salazar).


The desecration

[NOTE: I make no claim to the veracity of the narration below. This was conveyed to us during our visit.]

Our destination that day was the small village of Chámeza. This was the biggest of the small caserios (no more than a cross roads) that comprise the urban portion of the municipality of Chámeza.  At one time this hamlet had had a population of a couple of thousand people and included a church, a Telecom[1] a municipal building and a hotel.  It had served as the congregation center on Sundays for the dirt farmers and cattlemen of the Region.

While guerrilla activity had occurred for some time, both the government forces and the guerrilla had held an informal truce at the hamlet. Both sides had realized that terra franca in such isolated place would be of benefit to both sides. The local farmers that did not have a cause with either side had welcomed this agreement as beneficial to the social, civic and economic life of the area. The leftist guerrillas tolerated a church and the government offices and the government did not arrest the circumspect opponents that would arrive from the bush to buy food and other supplies. In short, it was an oasis of peace in a desert of discord and violence.

No one can really explain what happened but on a cruel Saturday, a drunken soldier had shot the son of a guerrilla cadre in a personal confrontation, and the young man had died in the street while the population in the hamlet hid in inaction. The garrison commander arrested the soldier and made a big production of condemning the action publicly, to no avail….

The next day while most residents were in church, a guerrilla force assaulted the government garrison. In quick succession they executed the soldier that had killed the son of the guerrilla cadre. They offered the enlisted men the option of joining their group and summarily executed the ones that didn’t.

Upon hearing of these acts, the hamlet residents that were not in the church building quickly retreated there. Probably believing in the “law of sanctuary” so prevalent in catholic countries, they assumed that the guerrillas would leave them be after exacting their revenge from the government troops.  The doors of the church were locked and the people decided to wait it out.

The guerrilla leader arrived at the church and when not able to enter went into a fit or rage.  He demanded access to the church, but the people inside, believing that allowing access would relinquish any leverage they had, refused to open the doors. He went into a fit of rage and gathered those from the garrison that had joined his ranks. He asked them to influence their friends inside to open the door and leave the building. After a short time, half a dozen people were allowed to leave the building, but the doors were again locked. For the next 45 minutes, while their leader was having some liquid refreshment and pondering what to do next, the crowd outside continued in an effort to get those inside to allow access to the guerrillas.

Losing patience, the guerrilla leader finally ordered his men to break down the door.  His men while imbibing large amounts of home made liquor (chicha and guarapo), finally brought back a team of mules that were promptly attached to ropes that were in turn tied to eye brackets that had been threaded to the outside of the door.  After a couple of tries one of the doors splintered enough to provide some leverage for the crow bars that had been liberated from one of the retail establishments. As one of the doors finally gave way, the semi drunk mob started to push through it, while cursing and whooping.

As the first group got to the church goers, some of them took a defensive stance covering their loved ones.  This was the wrong thing to do in front of the invaders that in the push and shove of trying to fit through the door, had lost any semblance of common purpose and organization.  Soon a few machetes made their presence felt and a free for all ensue, with the advantage going to the invaders, since many of the church goers had left their working/self defense utensils home.

There is no official recollection of the episode and it is impossible to determine how many persons may have died and whether a massacre took place. The goriest tales claim that all those present in the church seeking asylum were killed, men, women and children. These tales also indicate that people were literally taken apart by the machete yielding mob, and that some of the limbs of those killed ended up adorning some of the religious statues in the church.  The legend goes on to say that after a few more hours of celebration the guerrilla force left the town, and that only a few persons remained in it.

[1]At the time of this narration, the Colombian government owned all communications media.  An effort had been made to give all populated areas of the country at least the basic form of communications, which in most cases was a telegraph station.