You'll Never Save Your Husband From That POW Camp Day!
It's been over 30 years now since your husband's plane went down over Danang, and it looks like there aren't going to be any more rescue missions heading into those POW camps. It's time to take matters into your own hands.
It's true, you're a 57 year old woman and your work as a seamstress has not kept you in the best of shape. So you'll have to get back into jogging. And you'll have to acquire numerous anti-tank weapons. You have a week.
Once in the POW camp, you'll stay low to the ground, spotting one or two middle-aged to elderly Americans huddled in their bamboo cages and eating their lunch of live bugs and human feces. When you find your husband, the VC will be torturing him to get him to denounce the United States. He'll say no dice, and then he'll feel 100 volts of electricity course up his spine and into the part of his brain that's just behind his eyes. The men torturing him will have a world-weary look on their faces, but they won't skip any steps in the torture. This camp is a well-oiled machine, you'll think.
Before you blow up the watchtower, let the guard up there see you and gasp. Then shoot a rocket at his face. The rest of the guards will lope out to shoot you. Shoot back. This'll never work.
Happy You'll Never Save Your Husband From That POW Camp Day!
