Surreal. That was the only way Lieutenant Busby could think of to describe the recent past. First was the day he had gone from a Staff Sargent, to a First Lieutenant in one day. O.K. that was different, but not unknown in a battlefield situation. Then he and another team member had been given fifteen civilians and told to turn them into soldiers, A.S.A.P. He thanked God that most of them had been in the service at some point, and already knew a lot of the things he was supposed to teach them. Things like how to move forward while under fire. How to make a camp that won't be seen, and break camp so that nobody would ever suspect that they had been there. How to follow a road without actually walking on it, by moving parallel to it, and avoid being seen. These men in turn helped to teach the ones who had never served a day in their lives. Things went quickly and well, and his two squads were ready by the end of the third week.

While going on a long range patrol was something he knew well, normally the team would be dropped off, and picked up by helicopter. Right now, his thighs were telling him that he had a long way to go before he could consider himself any kind of horseman. He was sure that his men felt the same way. But to their credit, none complained. On the day they had left town, he'd looked back at the men following him, and couldn't help but think they looked like they were in an old John Wayne movie. Sixteen men, on horseback, riding off into the brush, looking of hostiles. He had questioned the Major about bringing one of the microwave weapons, and it's generator, but the Major had insisted.

"Busby, lets' hope it isn't needed. But if you run into more than what you are expecting, that thing can be used against people. It won't fire them the way it does electronics, but after a few seconds of it, they'll want to be someplace else. Just set it up in an overwatch position before you engage the enemy."

Busby shook his head, and grinned at the thought. Horse soldiers with Chinese made automatic and microwave weapons. John Wayne would be proud.

Then there was what happened yesterday. They had been out for four days, without seeing anything except wild animals, and birds. On the second day they had taken a deer to supplement the rations they were carrying. They got up on the third morning, donned their gillie suits, and began again to parallel the road once again, about forty yards from it. The suits were hot, but by leaving the front of the shirt open, and being on horseback, it was at least tolerable.

Once again they came to a ridge-line. It had already become almost a habit by now that when they came to one, the main force would stop under cover, while he and, what was that mans' name? Foster! That was it. He and Foster would ride out to just below the crest of the ridge, dismount, and slowly walk up to it, to peek over to see what might be on the other side.

This time they saw, alright. They saw a group of ten to twelve men moving down the road, towards them. Busby knew they were almost certainly civilians by their lack of discipline, not to mention the way they were dressed. They were moving slowly because some of them were on foot, while some rode horses, and some rode in an mule drawn wagon. Suddenly one of the men in the lead called a halt.

"Alright. You guys in the wagon, the ride is over. You guys on foot, you're turn to sit for awhile."

Busby was impressed. As he signaled Foster to move back to the rest, He thought about it. Whoever this guy was, he was looking after his men. Making sure they all arrived at the Colorado Springs/Fort Carson area in good shape. He would bare watching.

The men gathered around Busby, at his signal. "Alright. It looks like we have twelve men coming this way. Who has First Squad?"

"I do, Sir. Chaplin is the name."

"O.K. Chaplin, look here." He drew a line on the ground, and then a 'V' intersecting it. "I want you to take both A and B teams of fist squad. Cross the road, and spread your men out in a line on the other side, like this." He indicated one side of the 'V'. "I want no less than five yards between men. Take whatever cover you can find, get down, and don't move. Murphy." He called to his S.F. team member.

"Here, Sir."

"You take both teams of second squad and do the same on the other side. Put yourself in the middle of the line. Now, you men, this is the first time you've done anything like this. I know you are nervous. Just Murphy and myself. Don't do anything we don't. If the shooting starts, just make sure of your targets before you pull the trigger. Any questions?"

"What about us, Sir?"

Busby looked at the two men assigned to the microwave.

"Position yourselves here." He made a dot in the dirt map just about Murphy's' squad. "Make sure if you have to use that thing, you don't cook any of us. And for heavens' sake, DO NOT start that generator unless the shooting starts. Any more questions?"

There were none.

"Move out."

---

Terry Buckley was proud of himself. His group had been on the move for a little over a week, and he hadn't lost anybody, and they were all in good shape, and spirits. They knew that their goal was only a few days ahead, and they had enough food and water to reach it with a little to spare. Then they would finally have a crack at those Chinese. Teach them who not to invade. Shame they hadn't been able to locate any Christian though. Still, things were going well, and looked to continue that way. But when they came over the last ridge, they saw the two men sitting on horses in the middle of the road. As they got closer, Buckley could clearly see the two were in uniform, and showed no signs of getting out of his way. He waited until they were within five yards of them before he called a halt.

"What are you men doing on this road?" Busby demanded.

"We're on our way to Fort Carson to join up, and fight the Chinese."

"SIR!"

"Excuse me?"

"You're on your way to join up and fight the Chinese, SIR! Or are you so blind you can't recognize an officer when you see one?"

"Hey we're civilians. I don't have to salute you yet."

"We are, and have been for some time now, under martial law. That makes a buck private your superior. Do I make myself clear Mr.?"

"Don't give me that crap. Like I said, we're civilians. Besides, there's twelve of us and two of you, out in the middle of nowhere. What do you think you're going to do about it?"

Busby sneered at Buckley, then said, "I'll show you. A team, First squad, B team, Second squad, on your feet, take aim."

Buckley knew real fear for the first time as the bushes on both side of the road stood up and aimed their weapons at him. He thought quickly and said, "Buckley. Names' Buckley, uh Sir."

"Mr. Buckley, let me inform you of something. From this time on, you will obey any order given to you at any time, by anyone wearing a uniform. Understood?"

"Yes Sir."

"Good. My men and I are looking for Christians, so get those men out of the wagon. I want them lined up on the side of the road, with five yards between them."

"Yes, Sir. Alright. You heard him. Out of the wagon, line up."

The men hurriedly did as they were told, while looking into the brush, wondering how many more rifles were trained on them.

"Alright Buckley, I'll start with you." He sternly looked Buckley in the eye, and asked softly, "Are you a Christian?"

"Oh hell no, Sir. I always thought there was something strange about them."

Busby grunted, and started to turn away.

"Is that all you're going to ask, Sir?"

"Buckley, you better get your head on straight, before some Chinese takes it off. Christians can't deny their God. If you ask them, they have to tell you, because they can't lie about it. It would send them to hell."

"Sir, everyone here has been asked about that."

"Buckley, do you plan on making a career of questioning orders from your superior officers? If so, I want to tell you that is a good way to get yourself in heaps of trouble real quick. Now, SHUT UP and get back in line."

Busby turned to his left. "First Squad, team B, assemble on me."

More bushes stood up and moved to the Lieutenant.

"Follow me." Was all he said. Busby, moved down the line of men, stopping briefly in front each one and asked them. "Are you a Christian?"

Most of the men immediately denied it. However he found four men who's' answers were evasive. He signaled men from the team, two at a time, and they escorted these four out of the area. Having finished his questioning, Busby returned to the front of the line.

"Mr. Murphy, I've taken four of your men that I want to question further. If they aren't Christians, they will be freed to return to you. If they are, you won't have to worry about it any more. Now listen carefully to what I'm going to tell you. There is a pass up ahead that has been completely blocked by a landslide. Unless you want to abandon this wagon, and anything you can't carry, turn that thing around. Go back about ten miles, and there is a fork in the road. Take the east road. It is clear. It will take you a longer time to get to Carson, but the way is clear. Now get moving."

"Yes Sir." Murphy turned and ordered his men to either remount or get back in the wagon. Then they turned around and started back the way they came.

Busby waited until the wagon had disappeared over the rise, and then waited some more. Finally a bush stood up and waved at him. He waved the man to come back. Then he turned and walked into the brush towards the waiting frightened men. Since there were four of them, they had been put together, two together, in separate places, and held under guard. He went to the nearest two.

"The reason you are here, is because I didn't like your answer when I asked if you were Christians. Understand me gentlemen. We can't afford having the wrong men set free. You will give me a straight answer to a straight question, or I will shoot you where you are sitting. You." He pointed to the man on his left. "Are you or are you not a Christian?"

"He is. I heard him praying last night." The man on the right said. "Shoot him."

"If that is true, why didn't you turn him in?"

"Turn him in where? We've been on the road for over a week. I was going to turn him in as soon as we got to Colorado."

"So how do I know you're not one of them? That you're not trying to throw me off the scent?"

"Sir, I always believed what I believe is my business, not anyone else has a right to know. I just didn't realize how serious you were, or I would have told you."

Busby turned back to the left hand man. He was sitting quietly, holding his head. He seemed to be praying.

"Well, how about it? Are you a Christian?"

"I believe in The Father, Son, and The Holy Spirit. If that is a crime, I plead guilty. Shoot me if you must."

"You see, you see, he admits it. You have to take care of him Sir."

"Don't worry, I will." Busby pulled his pistol and shot the man on the right in the head. The Christian looked stunned, and started to speak. Busby covered his mouth with his hand and said, "Not a sound. Understand me?"

He nodded his head. Busby stood up, and made his way to the other two men. They had had a chance to talk to each other, and come to an agreement. When Busby entered the small clearing where they were being held, they stood together.

"Sir, I am a Christian. If I have to die for that, I am ready."

The second man simply said, "Blessed be the name of The Father, Son and Holy Ghost."

Busby looked at their guards and said, "Bring them."

---

It had taken the most of the rest of that day for the men to realize that they weren't prisoners. That they were in fact free men once more. Free to worship God as they had always done. Not in secret, but in a gathering of brothers and sisters in The Lord. They happily joined in when grace was said around the fire at supper that night.

When Busby had left town, he had been at the head of a column of sixteen men. But the time he returned two weeks later, there were twenty three men and seventeen women and girls, and of all things, a cat. A pet of one of the younger girls. How she had managed to keep it hidden and feed, Busby couldn't guess. He spied the Major as he rode in, and rode over to him after giving orders to his men to see to their guests.

"Lieutenant, what on earth is all of this?"

Sir, with your permission, I'd like to take care of my horse, and clean up a little. Then I'll give my report."

"Take your time Busby. Tomorrow is soon enough."

"Yes Sir. Thank you Sir."

He turned and rode towards the stable. Wondering just how different things could get.


BW, Vietnam Vet