A Green Beret's True Story of His Jack Lawson with Sully de Fontaine

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Tmbwfs’’’’’’’’’ (t!Xiffm
Wheel, not dancing in celebration but their bodies in pieces surrounding
it in grotesque lifeless poses, lying where they were brutally
killed in the village streets.
Breaking from a trance, Sully laid his submachine gun on the
pedestal of the Slaver’s Wheel. He cupped his mouth with both
hands to amplify his voice as he yelled in all directions alternately in
English and French, “I am French-Canadian and here to evacuate
you. Show yourselves!”
After another fifteen minutes of his pleas going unanswered, he
radioed Jake One to land the Beaver and pick him up. Frenchy had
been given the wrong village name or those who had radioed for
help had their radio destroyed, had fled or had been killed.
Within a few minutes, the Beaver landed. As they took off, Sully
radioed Frenchy.
“Robert Four, this is Robert One, come in.”
“Go ahead, Robert One.”
“Just left Inkisi and found no one there. Radio them again to
confirm their location.”
“Roger that. I’ll call you back.”
“Jake, circle around at tree top level moving out from the center
of the village. Maybe we can spot them from the air.” Sully told the
pilot.
“Got it, Robert.” Jake One answered over the headset and for the
next twenty minutes they flew in an increasing spiral trying to spot
the refugees from the air.
Soon, Frenchy radioed Sully back.
“Robert One, come in.”
“Go ahead Robert Four,” Sully answered.
“I can’t raise them on the radio. They definitely told me Inkisi,
Robert.”
“Roger. Call me if you hear from them again.”
“Roger that,” Frenchy said as he signed off.
“Jake, head back to Brazzaville.”