Since interrogation has been a hot topic of late, here’s a story about the time I myself dabbled a bit in some “coercive questioning.” It was the summer of ’75 and my basic training outfit, Platoon 1076, was engaged in several days of infantry training along with our three sister platoons.
Roughly, we dragged the “unconscious” John to the shallow foxhole and rolled him in next to our prisoner. I pointed at the man now cowering, his chest heaving, and sneered at him, “You’re next pal.” We yanked him none-to-gently out of the three-foot deep depression and sat him down on the log, his hands still tightly secured behind his back. The man had none of his earlier bravado. He was trembling so hard with fear and from the chilly night that I almost felt sorry for him.