The Surge

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This novel is going out to all my brothers and sisters in every branch of the military. All those that answered the call to serve without ever asking, “What’s in it for me?” Especially to the families of those that never made it back. Gone but never forgotten!

To my endlessly patient wife: I really do love you more than my computer!

“Hey you! Get over here on the double!”

Prisoner of War number 8611, a.k.a John Brown, pretended not to hear. With his back turned to the voice, he calmly dumped a bag of dirt into the latrine’s cesspit below. If the rebel camp guards suspected he was hiding evidence of an escape tunnel, they wouldn’t have called out. No, his first and last warning would have been a bullet to the back.

Someone yanked on his shoulder. Brown shoved the empty bag into his pants and spun around, managing to whizz on the intruder’s boots in the process.

“What the hell!” The rebel guard jumped as if bitten.

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