Ακίνδυνο Déjà Vu

I’d estimated that they were 15 to 17 years old, both looking incredibly young, fragile, and deceptively spindly. Their curiosity was unveiled and unashamed. I was intrigued by their deep interest. It reminded me of the way Japanese school children had stared at me 15 years before during the Korean War. I doubted that either of them had ever seen a Caucasian in the flesh.

...

It burned like a hot fire and I bolted up and thrashed around violently, frightening the medic.

...

Giving up, he disappeared again and came back with a morphine syrette which he stabbed into my leg. Once more, he started probing.

...

Shortly, Red Face came back and asked me if I wanted something to drink.

Ας είμαι ειλικρινής. Αν κάποιος μου ζητούσε να μαντέψω, χωρίς δεύτερη σκέψη θα στοιχημάτιζα όλα τα άκρα μου πως πρόκειται για Μπάροουζ. Και μάλλον για τις Πόλεις Της Κόκκινη Νύχτας.

Σχεδόν εντελώς αλλά όχι ακριβώς έτσι.

(καλά, από φωτογένεια δέκα με τόνο)

Είναι ο Bud Day, και τα αποσπάσματα από το βιβλίο Duty, Honor, Country στο Vietnam Veterans Legacy Foundation. Συγκλονιστική περιγραφή. Όχι απλά του να είσαι δραπέτης. Αλλά και η εμπειρία της μετατροπής από κυνηγό σε θήραμα. Χαρακτηριστικό σημείο:
I heard a whistling, high-pitched, almost shrieking noise--an aerodynamic sound, something moving through the air. Even with sixteen years as a pilot, I had never heard anything quite like it. Then a long string of bombs began exploding along the left side of the lake . . . . exactly down the path I had selected.

Κατά τα άλλα, καμία σχέση με τον Ron Kovic.