THE SAME MAN

Vietnam, 1969. The same prisoner. The same wounds. Again and again.

Flight medic Robert Kendrick has treated thousands of casualties in the air over III Corps. He knows how to observe, catalogue, and move on. A chemistry student turned combat medic, he sees the world in patterns - molecular structures, scar tissue, the geometry of wounds.

So when he treats a Vietnamese prisoner with a distinctive tiger tattoo on a Tuesday, then treats the same man with a fresh wound the following month, then again three weeks after that, he doesn't panic. He documents.

What Kendrick uncovers isn't a coincidence or a hallucination. It is CONDUIT - a classified CIA program running intelligence assets through the American medevac system. Wounded on schedule. Evacuated on schedule. Interrogated. Healed. Wounded again. The prisoners aren't casualties of war. They are instruments of it.

Speaking means a psychiatric evaluation. A transfer. A career-ending label. He has watched it happen to others. Staying silent means he is complicit in something that has no name in any law he knows.

Kendrick carries the evidence for fifty-seven years.

Moving from the jungle heat of Vietnam to the quiet terror of being watched in a Sacramento bookstore to a dying man's confession in a care facility, The Same Man is a novel about what it costs to know the truth - and what it costs to finally tell it.

For readers of Graham Greene, Tim O'Brien, and Robert Stone. For anyone who has ever wondered what the files say.