The standing order from central command with regard to captured prisoners of war was to send them on to Vietnam via established prison camps, eventually to end up in the Hanoi prison network—known by foreigners as the Hanoi Hilton. But Henry never left the rebel camp. The commander of the group, a battered warrior of many campaigns named Yiw, was proud of his pet airman. He invited friends over to see him and poke sticks at him through the bars of his cage. He humiliated the American and starved and punished him when he thought his prisoner was showing disrespect. He was clearly certifiable.

But when Commander Yiw was off in the mountains, Henry befriended his captors, mostly young boys charged with preventing his escape. He learned Lao from them. They brought him herbal medicines and natural poultices and tended his wounds until the next assault. They were every bit as afraid of their leader as Henry was, but they felt sorry for the man in the cage. Perhaps the most remarkable thing about this story was that Henry wrote a book during his years in captivity. The guards found him paper and pencils and he documented his experiences. When Yiw was in the camp, the manuscript lived in a plastic bag buried in the dirt beneath Henry’s cage.

Yiw was killed in battle, probably no less than he deserved, and his second-in-command adhered to the protocol of the Pathet Lao and sent Henry to Hanoi. His only possessions were his dog tags, a shirt and shorts, a bamboo flute and reading glasses, all in one cloth shoulder bag. And sewn into the lining of that bag was his completed manuscript. The only reason I knew all this was that Hung Lan, my interpreter, had read it.

During his four months at the Hanoi Hilton, Henry had visitors. Some were priests who had refused to join the Catholic exodus south. Some were fellow American servicemen who had repented for their sins and apologized for their actions against the Viet Minh. But some were tourists. Visiting incarcerated POWs was on the itinerary. Curious foreigners were escorted to the jails where they could ask questions and take photographs. And it was to one of these visitors that Henry entrusted his manuscript. The tourist, afraid she might be arrested, owned up to the collusion and handed the script to the tour guide. Hung Lan was asked to read and summarize the text. He told me the highlights. It would have made a splendid movie.