Skalkaho

Skalkaho had an unexpected surprise when he reaches the Mekong River in central Laos. A CIA operative contacted him on the river banks as he had a small camouflaged hut back from the river bank on a higher piece of the berm. His name is Charles Woodson and he worked for a CIA networking scheme called "Air America". Chuck was young at this time and was relegated as a cargo pusher. He had been pre-dropped at this location for his new assignment. He was to move into Northern Laos about 250 miles away and organize the Hmong people for its defense against the NVA. The CIA was very keen to make things worse for its enemies. This story has some legs as Skalkaho remained resolute in his goal of making it to Bangkok. Chuck had Bangkok connections and could help him find a business anchor basing his US return in the next year. As Skalkaho read the local newspaper on November 25, 2017, he read more about Chuck disclosing troubles that may also follow his own journey living in Montana

Barely moving, Skalkaho rolled on his floor mat. A cloud occupying his brain brought immense pain, it felt as if he had been bludgeoned almost to his death. The only thought he had was just hanging tight to the floor mat. His mind was a whirl and a putrid convulsion was about to begin in his stomach. Skalkaho was about to find out how fast he would dehydrate from whatever Red juice he had just drunk earlier.  Moaning is not disrespectful in his current condition and moaning seemed to help. A brief moment of conscientious turned into a delirious dreamlike state. Everything he had ever learned or had experienced flashed before in his thoughts. In fact, some thoughts came forward without any reference or origin of its nature. It's almost as if he were being recreated by every ounce of his being.  The delirious stage lasted for many hours perhaps days, if possible. The villagers came in from time to time and left a jug of spring water from somewhere nearby. He also remembered they

Mauli knew a way to the secluded mountain and plateau region. His new best friend, Frank, seemed impatient to start the trek. Little did Mauli know Frank had a void in his heart for Maria's attention. Months had passed since he last saw her in a fleeting moment losing a chance for any kind of farewell. The two Marine escorts showed "Frank" the way to Pendleton tore his heart wide open. He loved Marias and now he was tortured by the thought of John Charbonneau manipulating her in spite of Skalkaho. This motivation would push him far into the jungle abyss. He needed sanctuary, he needed to live in order to save Marias from danger and for his own love of her.  Mauli was in it for the adventure and possible profit. He had nothing going on until Frank showed up the day before. This Prescott person had big potential, Mauli thought. He saw a weakness in him but didn't understand that his weakness lived on the other side of the world. The way ahead was through Frank Pres

Skalkaho was having a miserable night in the mangrove's root holes. The mud pit was wet from the waist down and it stank of rotting foliage or possibly dead animals nearby. Maybe the stench came from his run over firebase where all his companions were in the first phase of high humidity and temperature decomposition. It was just miserable and waiting for morning light was an invitation to being spotted and instantly dispatched.  At about 3:00 AM he began a slow scramble away from the bog. The night was clear and the stars were out. He found the Big Dipper. Knowing some orienteering from his basic training, he could track where the upper right-hand corner of the Big Dipper "Scoop" would line up with the "North Start.  He found the North Star. Standing up and pointing at the star with his right hand with his finger, he extended his left outstretched hand pointing due south. Forming a big plus sign with his body, his nose looked due East. That is the direction of his

The journey lunges forward to 1970 before that can happen it is important to catch up on family matters with a short version starting with Running Eagle and Skalkaho. The journey from Blackleaf rendezvous to Skalkaho's secret place at the Mud Creek drainage made sense but it also changed history in little bits. A true love blossomed at the creek's edge. It was safe to say all caution was buried when left alone and making blind leaps of love around the splashing sounds the creek rolling over its rocks. Skalkaho had no intention going north or south. He only wanted to be left alone with Running Eagle. His story didn't end at this camp but it changed remarkably with Running Eagle at his side. By next spring it would show all over Running Eagles stature. There would be a baby before mid-summer. No one had found them and all disruptions were several days away in any direction. There was no trail to their camp or tracking towards the lodge that he had been built last fall. T

The brief camp at Mud Creek has run its course and the couple had to move towards its objective, the Blackleaf rendezvous. A story had to be told and its lie had to be convincing. Running Eagle's life would be in jeopardy if Skalkaho was called out on his story.  The fear level rose in the early morning of the second day on the trail. They would pack the best of the bear onto the two horses as a key part of the story. Skalkaho had about five hours before arriving at Blackleaf. Last night was an unexpected conundrum. It didn't go well as he had wanted. Running Eagle was a far more complex native woman than the white women he had occasioned to impress. The usual boyhood suave did not make a dent in her attitude. No smiles came early as they prepared to leave. It was the only sign from Running Eagle he could interpret as a positive message. She measured a man’s actions over anything he could contrive. The more he tried demonstrating his trapper skills at camp, around the ho