Byrnes said to the guard, Ngo Ty, who unlocked the bamboo cage. The guard had asked him how long he had been a prisoner after telling Byrnes the date, February 2, 1973. The smile on the North Vietnamese soldier’s face made Byrnes apprehensive. In the past, anything that made an NVA soldier happy usually meant trouble for him. “Why do you ask?” Byrnes’s spoke Vietnamese like a native, a native with a northerner’s accent after six years as prisoner of the North Vietnamese Army in South Vietnam. “The war is over for you Americans, Con co,” the guard said. “Tet will be a grand celebration this year.” “What do you mean?” Byrnes asked. Only recently had the beatings stopped. NVA soldiers had poked him with sticks through the cage, thrown burning cigarettes at him, and punched him at every opportunity. Eventually, they had tired of abusing him when they realized he was no threat and could not strike back. “In the Paris peace discussions, your country has agreed to leave Vietnam to its people,”
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