Then he recalled how the Greek philosopher, Salon, once said, 'You can never judge a life 'til it is over,' and though Tran-Do was only one step away from death, as of this moment, he was still quite alive. If he could not return the Lieutenant to his family alive, he could still leave this army of evil and with some luck, perhaps make it to America and let the Lieutenant's wife and child know that though he was dead, he had died saving others. He was a hero, who had died bringing hope to the hopeless and letting those who thought the world had forgotten them know that they were not forgotten.
It was still dark as he slipped back into the prison cell to get the knapsack of supplies. Before he left, he arranged the Lieutenant's body and noticed that a small area of the ground underneath where he had been sleeping looked slightly different. The earth in one corner was looser, as if something had been buried there. Digging into the ground, he discovered a small wooden box containing a hand-wound music box.
Bach Lullaby
(Instrumental)
Placing the box in his knapsack, he finished laying out the body and then left, bolting the door behind him. Calling out for the Khmer Rouge captain of the guard, he berated him for allowing the American officer to die before getting more information out of him. He then showed him the wooden box he had discovered in the cell demanding to know how such a large piece of contraband could have gone undiscovered. As the guard started to stutter an answer, the General cut him off asking, 'How do you know that he did not also have a small handheld radio? How do you know that he has not radioed our location?' Once again before the guard could answer, Tran-Do cut him off and sternly ordered, 'Captain, we cannot afford to take any chances. Tomorrow, we move camp further up river but tonight you carefully bury that officer outside this compound. I do not want his body accidentally discovered by the Cambodian Army. And Captain, it is only because of your long service that you are not being buried with him.'
Knowing that fear of punishment would cause his commands to be unquestionably obeyed, the General, then turned and walked back into the camp headquarters' hut. There he retrieved the Lieutenant's dog tags, wallet and a well-worn baseball. Then he slipped out of the camp determined to somehow get to America, find the Lieutenant's wife and ask her forgiveness. He did not know how he would get there and, once there, how he would find her. But he was determined to do it.
He slipped out of the camp, following the river towards the coastline. The river constantly morphed its appearance on its way to the sea. Sometimes it was wide and meandering and at other times it narrowed into fast flowing rapids. But it was while following this river on his journey that he received his first piece of good fortune. Tran-Do reached a spot where the river turned wide and more importantly extremely shallow. There, stranded in the sandy river bottom of those shallows were the fifty Coca-Cola bottles containing the Lieutenant's fairytales to his child and at the bottom of each story was the Lieutenant's wife's address in New Jersey, U.S.A. Running about like an excited child, he collected all fifty bottles, removed all the pages and wrapped them in a watertight, canvas poncho before resuming his quest.
It took him many years, but eventually he arrived in America, only to be disappointed when the people who were living at the address he found in the bottles, said that the family had moved out quite a while ago and they had no idea where they were. In desperation, he went to Times Square in New York City to search for the drug dealer that the Lieutenant had told him about. He was lucky enough to find that the dealer still resided at the address the Lieutenant had placed in his wallet. The dealer immediately remembered the young officer and offered his a**istance in finding out where the Lieutenant's family might have moved. The dealer enlisted the aid of a sympathetic policeman who helped him discover the wife's new location. Tran-Do now felt he had a real chance of completing his quest by asking the Lieutenant's wife's forgiveness for the death of her husband, a soldier who had gone to a far away land to protect the lives of others.
At this point in the story, the little girl looked at the stranger's black t-shirt with the initials for New York City printed boldly on the front. Slowly standing up, she said in soft but nervous voice, "Sir, you are the drug dealer."
"Why would you think such a thing?" he replied while also rising.
"Because, only he would know so much of the story."
"No, my child, I wish that I could say that I was that dealer, but I am Tran-Do. And you my dear, are the Lieutenant's child."
"But that's impossible," she answered in a shocked and confused voice. "The man's child was a boy. You said that he could not wait to teach him how to play baseball."
The man then reached into his satchel and took out something which he gently tossed to the little girl. She instinctively caught it and saw it was a worn leather baseball. "That is what your father wanted to do with you." He then reached once more into his satchel and took out a stack of pages neatly encased in a manila folder along with a small music box and handed it to the child. "These are the fairytales he wrote for you and the music box that holds the melody he listened to the night you were born."
"No! No, you've made a mistake. You have the wrong child," she insisted. "My mom told me that my father is in heaven but his name is Bill. Bill Cozier."
"Bill, little one, is short for William. He was Lieutenant William Cozier. I've been down here outside your home for nearly a week trying to gather the courage to ask for your mother's and your forgiveness but was unable to do so. This night, I built a fire and by its light a sandcastle modeled on the one your father described to me from when he met Erasmus. Then, by some miracle, you appeared. Child, many brave and great men over the centuries have fought for the safety and freedom of themselves, their families or their fellow citizens. But, men who risk all to save strangers, people that they have never met, to save men that would have killed them in a second if they had the chance... where do such individuals come from? God knows I don't think many of us deserve them. But they do exist and one of them was your father. To give up all to save your brother is a noble thing to do but to give up all to save your enemy... well that is something I cannot explain. Child, can you forgive me for your father's death? Could you... not hate me?"
A tear started to well up in the child's eye as she tried to take in all she had just learned. As the tear fell, it landed in the moat surrounding the sand castle just as a wave from the incoming tide reached the outer ends of the moat, pouring water in before temporarily retreating back to the ocean. The little girl looked at Tran-Do's eyes and she could see the pain of regret for an act that cannot be undone. "I don't hate you sir. I forgive you, and I think my mother will too. Come back with me and you can ask her yourself."
"I don't think I have that kind of courage. I would like to ask, if as a final kindness, you could ask her for me."
"But you do have the courage! You asked me."
"It's hard to explain, but sometimes it is easier to ask forgiveness from a child than a grown-up. And besides I have to be leaving now."
"Where do you have to go?"
"Somewhere there is a castle out there that I have to find." And after a gentle bow, Tran-Do turned and started walking away along the beach. As the child watched him fade away into the darkness, she suddenly realized that she was outside the house in the middle of the night and her mother was going to be incredibly angry when she discovered that she had snuck down to the beach.
Clutching the box, the baseball and her father's papers she started running up the sand dune stairs. She was running so hard, that she nearly fell when she collided with a beautiful young lady in a white gauze summer dress, on one of the landings. Helping the child to steady herself, the lady asked, "Where, my little one, are you running to in such a hurry?"
"I'm sorry I b**ped into you, miss. I have to get back home! I shouldn't be out this late. I'm in big trouble!" the girl answered as she continued scrambling up the stairs towards the house.
"Don't worry," the lady answered, "you won't be in any trouble at all."
"You don't know my mom!" the girl shouted over her shoulder. Moments later she walked into her living room where her mother was watching television. When she saw her daughter coming in from the outside in her nightgown, her feet all covered with sand, holding a bevy of objects, her mother leapt to her feet and demanded to know where she had been. The child then explained all that had transpired that night and at the end handed her the folder of hand-written fairytales. The mother looked at the pages immediately recognizing her late husband's handwriting. Dropping the papers to the floor, she told her daughter to stay inside before running down to the beach to find this man that her daughter had told her about.
When she reached the area around the bonfire and sandcastle she could see footprints in the sand heading out into the darkness. Just as she was about to follow his trail, another wave from the incoming tide swept the footprints away. Realizing that to search for him aimlessly in the dark was useless, she looked back at the sandcastle being steadily eroded by the incoming waves. But the back tower still stood with a small chain hung around it. She picked it up, and by the bonfire's light, saw that it held her husband's dog tags.
The man was who he said he was. She had known that her husband had died in combat, but had always hoped that it was quick and painless. Now that she knew the entire story, she found herself talking to her late husband. There was a tenderness in her voice that would cause anyone who heard her, to know she was certain that the Lieutenant could hear every word.
It was still dark as he slipped back into the prison cell to get the knapsack of supplies. Before he left, he arranged the Lieutenant's body and noticed that a small area of the ground underneath where he had been sleeping looked slightly different. The earth in one corner was looser, as if something had been buried there. Digging into the ground, he discovered a small wooden box containing a hand-wound music box.
Bach Lullaby
(Instrumental)
Placing the box in his knapsack, he finished laying out the body and then left, bolting the door behind him. Calling out for the Khmer Rouge captain of the guard, he berated him for allowing the American officer to die before getting more information out of him. He then showed him the wooden box he had discovered in the cell demanding to know how such a large piece of contraband could have gone undiscovered. As the guard started to stutter an answer, the General cut him off asking, 'How do you know that he did not also have a small handheld radio? How do you know that he has not radioed our location?' Once again before the guard could answer, Tran-Do cut him off and sternly ordered, 'Captain, we cannot afford to take any chances. Tomorrow, we move camp further up river but tonight you carefully bury that officer outside this compound. I do not want his body accidentally discovered by the Cambodian Army. And Captain, it is only because of your long service that you are not being buried with him.'
Knowing that fear of punishment would cause his commands to be unquestionably obeyed, the General, then turned and walked back into the camp headquarters' hut. There he retrieved the Lieutenant's dog tags, wallet and a well-worn baseball. Then he slipped out of the camp determined to somehow get to America, find the Lieutenant's wife and ask her forgiveness. He did not know how he would get there and, once there, how he would find her. But he was determined to do it.
He slipped out of the camp, following the river towards the coastline. The river constantly morphed its appearance on its way to the sea. Sometimes it was wide and meandering and at other times it narrowed into fast flowing rapids. But it was while following this river on his journey that he received his first piece of good fortune. Tran-Do reached a spot where the river turned wide and more importantly extremely shallow. There, stranded in the sandy river bottom of those shallows were the fifty Coca-Cola bottles containing the Lieutenant's fairytales to his child and at the bottom of each story was the Lieutenant's wife's address in New Jersey, U.S.A. Running about like an excited child, he collected all fifty bottles, removed all the pages and wrapped them in a watertight, canvas poncho before resuming his quest.
It took him many years, but eventually he arrived in America, only to be disappointed when the people who were living at the address he found in the bottles, said that the family had moved out quite a while ago and they had no idea where they were. In desperation, he went to Times Square in New York City to search for the drug dealer that the Lieutenant had told him about. He was lucky enough to find that the dealer still resided at the address the Lieutenant had placed in his wallet. The dealer immediately remembered the young officer and offered his a**istance in finding out where the Lieutenant's family might have moved. The dealer enlisted the aid of a sympathetic policeman who helped him discover the wife's new location. Tran-Do now felt he had a real chance of completing his quest by asking the Lieutenant's wife's forgiveness for the death of her husband, a soldier who had gone to a far away land to protect the lives of others.
At this point in the story, the little girl looked at the stranger's black t-shirt with the initials for New York City printed boldly on the front. Slowly standing up, she said in soft but nervous voice, "Sir, you are the drug dealer."
"Why would you think such a thing?" he replied while also rising.
"Because, only he would know so much of the story."
"No, my child, I wish that I could say that I was that dealer, but I am Tran-Do. And you my dear, are the Lieutenant's child."
"But that's impossible," she answered in a shocked and confused voice. "The man's child was a boy. You said that he could not wait to teach him how to play baseball."
The man then reached into his satchel and took out something which he gently tossed to the little girl. She instinctively caught it and saw it was a worn leather baseball. "That is what your father wanted to do with you." He then reached once more into his satchel and took out a stack of pages neatly encased in a manila folder along with a small music box and handed it to the child. "These are the fairytales he wrote for you and the music box that holds the melody he listened to the night you were born."
"No! No, you've made a mistake. You have the wrong child," she insisted. "My mom told me that my father is in heaven but his name is Bill. Bill Cozier."
"Bill, little one, is short for William. He was Lieutenant William Cozier. I've been down here outside your home for nearly a week trying to gather the courage to ask for your mother's and your forgiveness but was unable to do so. This night, I built a fire and by its light a sandcastle modeled on the one your father described to me from when he met Erasmus. Then, by some miracle, you appeared. Child, many brave and great men over the centuries have fought for the safety and freedom of themselves, their families or their fellow citizens. But, men who risk all to save strangers, people that they have never met, to save men that would have killed them in a second if they had the chance... where do such individuals come from? God knows I don't think many of us deserve them. But they do exist and one of them was your father. To give up all to save your brother is a noble thing to do but to give up all to save your enemy... well that is something I cannot explain. Child, can you forgive me for your father's death? Could you... not hate me?"
A tear started to well up in the child's eye as she tried to take in all she had just learned. As the tear fell, it landed in the moat surrounding the sand castle just as a wave from the incoming tide reached the outer ends of the moat, pouring water in before temporarily retreating back to the ocean. The little girl looked at Tran-Do's eyes and she could see the pain of regret for an act that cannot be undone. "I don't hate you sir. I forgive you, and I think my mother will too. Come back with me and you can ask her yourself."
"I don't think I have that kind of courage. I would like to ask, if as a final kindness, you could ask her for me."
"But you do have the courage! You asked me."
"It's hard to explain, but sometimes it is easier to ask forgiveness from a child than a grown-up. And besides I have to be leaving now."
"Where do you have to go?"
"Somewhere there is a castle out there that I have to find." And after a gentle bow, Tran-Do turned and started walking away along the beach. As the child watched him fade away into the darkness, she suddenly realized that she was outside the house in the middle of the night and her mother was going to be incredibly angry when she discovered that she had snuck down to the beach.
Clutching the box, the baseball and her father's papers she started running up the sand dune stairs. She was running so hard, that she nearly fell when she collided with a beautiful young lady in a white gauze summer dress, on one of the landings. Helping the child to steady herself, the lady asked, "Where, my little one, are you running to in such a hurry?"
"I'm sorry I b**ped into you, miss. I have to get back home! I shouldn't be out this late. I'm in big trouble!" the girl answered as she continued scrambling up the stairs towards the house.
"Don't worry," the lady answered, "you won't be in any trouble at all."
"You don't know my mom!" the girl shouted over her shoulder. Moments later she walked into her living room where her mother was watching television. When she saw her daughter coming in from the outside in her nightgown, her feet all covered with sand, holding a bevy of objects, her mother leapt to her feet and demanded to know where she had been. The child then explained all that had transpired that night and at the end handed her the folder of hand-written fairytales. The mother looked at the pages immediately recognizing her late husband's handwriting. Dropping the papers to the floor, she told her daughter to stay inside before running down to the beach to find this man that her daughter had told her about.
When she reached the area around the bonfire and sandcastle she could see footprints in the sand heading out into the darkness. Just as she was about to follow his trail, another wave from the incoming tide swept the footprints away. Realizing that to search for him aimlessly in the dark was useless, she looked back at the sandcastle being steadily eroded by the incoming waves. But the back tower still stood with a small chain hung around it. She picked it up, and by the bonfire's light, saw that it held her husband's dog tags.
The man was who he said he was. She had known that her husband had died in combat, but had always hoped that it was quick and painless. Now that she knew the entire story, she found herself talking to her late husband. There was a tenderness in her voice that would cause anyone who heard her, to know she was certain that the Lieutenant could hear every word.