The Storm

UP AND YOU BOTH GET ON YOUR KNEES WITH YOUR HANDS ON YOUR HEAD AND LOOK TO THE FLOOR BOARDS!” Henry now knew that we were both in big trouble. He slightly turned my way and said loudly, “I TOLD YOU, BOY!” The voice continued, “SHUT UP OR I’LL SHUT YOU UP MYSELF. NOWKNEEL. BOTHOF YOU!” The voice continued, but now directed his total attention to Henry and demanded, “WHAT’S YOUR NAME, OLD MAN?” “Whose asking,” Henry replied. I didn’t think that it was a smart response, but I wasn’t about to question anyth ing. I already felt dumb as a box of rocks and more scared than I ever had been. “WHAT IS YOUR NAME, OR THE BOTH OF YOU DIE NOW,” came the stern reply. “HENRY FORESTER!” Henry shouted back in a perturbed manner. There was a pause, and I felt that I was about to hear a gunshot for a nanosecond, and then see angels. Silence. Nothing but a deafening silence. The man didn’t answer, and then the silence broke, and now another command, “STAND UP, MISTER FORESTER, AND FACE ME. AND YOU, KID, KEEP YOURHEAD DOWN.” Henry stood up and turned. I could see the heels of his boots now as I peered sideways. Henry was now facing our captor. And now, with a quieter but vigorous voice, the man said, "Well I’ll be! Henry James Forester. You are Captain Henry Forester of the S pecial Forces group Coronado 65. I’d know that scar anywhere, 'cause I’m the one that gave it to you!” Now Henry was quiet, and I thought, "Captain? Special Forces? What?"

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