Chapter Twenty Three
Chapter Twenty Three
The army prison camp resembled something from a h*******t movie. Barbed wire stretched tight between telephone poles enclosed the yard with what was essentially a taller and meaner version of Joel’s simple property line fence. Escape would be as easy as bending and twisting enough to squeeze oneself between the wires while avoiding as many barbs as possible, paying special attention to keep them away from the more tender areas of the body.
That is, if it wasn’t for the thirty military combat rifles guarding the perimeter, both night and day.
“Dusk is the time to run,” a desperate character said to Joel the second day. “That’s when most of them eat together, like us, when the shift changes. There’s half as many guards out then, and the ones goi
