Skalkaho Chapter 7: Ecc. 3:6 A Time To Search

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 escape. He could travel late in the afternoon and go East with the sun at his back. In fact, he could put the sundown each day finding East. Food gathering and sleep were for the mornings. Marking a spot at night signaled where the morning start would line up. He put a rock at his feet and a mark on a tree. He would go that way when morning arrives.

He could reach the Mekong river in about 10 days following trails and stay away from people. He would need some people if he were going to find enough food along the way. The thought of Thailand was never far from his thinking. Skalkaho had to find the Xe Khong River the main artery southwestward in this region going to the Mekong River and beyond.  It would be about fifty miles and a week in hopes of finding a way out. Back towards the southeast is Pleiku where the war was exploding in South Vietnam. There was no way he could make it out alive without some serious firepower on his side

There were miles of endless trails ending before a forest just past the Xe Khong River, In fact, some circles, they say war is being managed from this vast jungle area beyond the Xe Khong River. It was a good thing Skalkaho paid attention to those endless debriefings staring at the maps on the wall to pass time. He was only in the country about a month, and had only a short opportunity for studying where he was getting answers for the why's was useless. No one talked, just orders.

It was known there was a vast empty area going northwest of his current position. He had to do several things protecting his presence. People wanted him dead and it wasn't just the NVA (PAVN) commonly referred to by the press. The third day from firebase Sophia was particularly rough. The food situation had run its course and finding insects to eat was particularly distasteful. He started to starve in his misery. No weapons and no survival pack made him destitute. Crawling out from under the tree days ago stripped him of everything he would need when going cross country. 

Skalkaho had to find someone. His day came on day four out from firebase Sophia. Near the Laotian Xe Khong River, there was a fisherman going to work. A contact was made with the fisherman.  Skalkaho signed with a gesture his encompassing fingers and shoved towards his lips. Everybody knew what hunger looked like. The fisherman smiled and pointed in the direction of his hut. It was the dry season so no worries about everything crawling during this time, it’s all found down at the river. Skalkaho had to find heavy cover and higher ground taking him off the "grid".  Now, his only options remaining was for this fisherman's fishing nets, hooks, and homemade line.

The fisherman pointed to the west towards heavy Jungle along the western edges of the Sekong Province. This would be his home in the foreseeable future. He just needed a survival grub stake when dropping into the high ground jungle. Skalkaho managed to get a name from his new friend. His name was, Mauli Keomany, a common name found in the province. Mauli was starving for human companionship. His family had moved down the river, the Mekong River, at the end of the last monsoon. Mauli was lonely and made an attempt at making Skalkaho his best friend.

The first words came out in French spoken when speaking to Mauli. After all, it was once French Indo China. When all else fails to speak French. That was the only advice his Drill Instructor gave him at Camp Pendleton when he went "in theatre".

Skalkaho spoke basic French,

"Où est-ce que je peux trouver un plan de la ville?

(English translation) Do you have a map of a village?"

Skalkaho's shock came back in the form of a French-speaking Laotian, named Mauli.

He promptly and proudly spoke in French;

"Oui, j'ai travaillé pour le français pendant vingt ans."

(Translated) Yes, I worked for the French for twenty years.

This fisherman spoke better French than Skalkaho. Their great partnership began on that January day in 1971. Skalkaho insisted on going to Mauli's hut for mapping copies for what he kept in his storage trunk. The situation became stable for Skalkaho since the Ho Chi Minh trail system was about 35 miles to the East. Now he needed a name change for his new friend. Any Skalkaho name reference would end in death. He knew there was a price on his head and having little money was a prime mover of making bad things happen in this part of the world. It then came to him in a symbolic rush. 

Pulling Mauli close he whispered, "call me Frank Prescott". The name was a near miss for a Benjamin Skalkaho's real name but on the other side of the world, it would not connect any points of reference. The Benjamin to Franklin connection and a Skalkaho to Prescott would not connect with the person of Frank Prescott. Only his most trusted friends would know this secret. The word "trusted" indicates, an into to the death promise. No one outside his inner circle must ever know this connection. Mauli would not know his true identity until he proved his trustworthy-ness. Every life around Skalkaho depended on it. Mauli treated it as part of his normal life keeping any secret. He had been living like that on his own since the French left Indo China in the 1950s.

The trip to Mauli's hut was anti-climatic only the maps laid out from his trunk brought the whole plan to life. Frank and Mauli experienced a bonding while pouring over the sketching of trail and terrain. One trail was of mutual interests. Mauli knew it as the forbidden zone. Any person going in isn't heard from again. It is about forty miles to the Northwest from Mauli's river hut in the midst of a Jungle plateau. The only talk about this area was a well-known idea about the villages that the government wants to make it into a Biodiversity zone, in other words, leave it alone and let nature have its way. A good way to keep people safe is by keeping them all out. Mauli just laughed at the notion. He would take Frank into the jungle plateau area.