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said to the prisoner, who was anything but his friend. “The rules of my game are quite simple. You must answer my questions and do as I say . . . but only if I say
please
. That’s all. A simple courtesy. I believe that even under the most difficult circumstances we should always do our best to maintain civility. This game helps us remember that. Agreed?”
    The prisoner wet his parched lips. He needed water, badly.
    “Agreed!” Bova announced for him.
    He strode to the jeep and grabbed a canteen from the passenger seat and walked back to the prisoner. He held the canteen out close to his face and said, “Take a drink.”
    The prisoner reached out for the canteen . . . and Bova kicked his hand away. Violently. So violently that it made most of the other prisoners jump with surprise. It threw the guy off balance and he fell down onto his elbows.
    Bova shook his head and chuckled. “You’ve forgotten already? I didn’t say
please
.”
    He motioned to one of his soldiers, who ran over quickly. I thought he was going to help the prisoner back up to his knees, but instead he wiped Bova’s boots with his sleeve, taking away any offending grime that may have come off of the prisoner.
    “Very good, let’s try this again,” Bova said, holding out the canteen. “Won’t you have a drink of water?”
    The prisoner pushed himself off the ground until he was back on his knees. One side of his sweat and blood-covered face was encrusted with dirt. It was gut-wrenching to see.
    He glared at Bova but didn’t move.
    “Very good!” Bova exclaimed with joy. “Now we’re on the same page. This is going to be fun.”
    There were a lot of words to describe what was going on. “Fun” wasn’t one of them.
    “Now.
Please
lift your right arm.”
    After a painfully long few seconds, the prisoner raised his right hand. Barely.
    “Wonderful!” Bova declared.
    He really was having fun.
    For the record, he was the only one, including the other Retro soldiers, who watched with no expression. “Now,” Bova continued. “Tell us all what you did that was so naughty.”
    I willed the guy not to answer.
    The prisoner didn’t say a word. His eyes seemed unfocused, as if he were about to pass out.
    “Very good!” Bova declared. “Tell us what you did that was so naughty . . .
please
.”
    All eyes were focused on the poor, tortured guy.
    His eyes flashed around, looking for some clue as to what he should do.
    “You have to tell me,” Bova said, wagging his finger. “I said
please
. Those are the rules of etiquette.”
    “I . . .” the man said, sounding as though his throat was on fire. “I tried to bring water to my unit.”
    “Precisely!” Bova exclaimed giddily. “You tried to bring water to your unit.
Extra
water. Now,
please
tell me, is this your unit?”
    Bova gestured to the group at the edge of the hole.
    Reluctantly, the prisoner nodded.
    “Of course it is.
Please
tell me, did anyone in this unit drink the water?”
    I felt the people in the group stiffen. What had been a sadistic torturing of a single prisoner now had the potential to include them.
    The prisoner shook his head.
    “No,” he whispered. “I never made it back.”
    Bova walked up to the unit supervisor, who looked ready to faint. He got right in her face and said, “Is this true? There were no extra water rations distributed to your unit?”
    The woman blinked a few times. She was terrified of this man.
    “No sir,” she said with a shaky voice. “No extra water was given to this unit today.”
    Bova stared directly into her eyes. Into her brain.
    I was standing ten feet away, but I saw a bead of sweat grow on her temple that slowly trickled down her cheek.
    He kept his eyes locked on hers for a solid ten seconds, then grinned.
    “I know it wasn’t,” he said with happy lilt. “We discovered his treachery long before he had the chance to come back here.”
    Bova stepped away from her.
    The woman visibly relaxed.
    “Eight Six