Benjamin De La Selva is a man of many stories.

He has the stories he wants to tell you. Those are the ones from the book that he recently finished writing – tales of hometown pride, of local legends like Manteca (the lard man), Camote (named for the color his face would turn after a few drinks: sweet potato), and El Zorro (read the book to crack that mystery).

He has stories he takes professional pride in – about his rise from student soldier to dean at The Defense Language Institute – but is reluctant to talk about because of genuine humility.

And then he has the stories he doesn’t want to share at all, about his time in Vietnam as a POW interrogator.

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Several months ago De La Selva became a self-published hombre. The Man With A Thousand Faces, his first book, is a collection of short stories in both Spanish and English. His cousin, Gina Sacasa-Ross De La Selva, gave him the needed push into the land of letters. An author herself, after reading one of his short stories she insisted he put together a book.

His story “Aurora” describes a surreal dream on an airplane, the earth shaking, and waking to the confusion of everyday life. But it’s about the search for love, and how the dream world sometimes can manifest things in the waking one.

“The dream was as real as anythingI had ever experienced in my life,” he writes. “I suddenly realized that of all the nightmaresI had suffered after Vietnam, this was the one that was the most symbolic and bizarre. Is it possible that I was obsessed with an unfinished relationship and my soul was seeking to close the loop? With ambivalent feelings,I hoped and feared that another dream would show me the conclusion of this psychological saga.”

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De La Selva grew up in a small town called Somoto, Nicaragua; he describes his childhood as a relatively happy one. He had artists in his family and his uncle was a famous poet, Salomon De La Selva.

Times were more trying when he went to a boarding school, which he recalls in Faces – but it precipitated his first dealings with finding strength, and learning to negotiate with hostile enemies.

He tells of toilet paper between the toes, a pack of bullies and a flame. The list of pranks goes on. Then comes the lesson: “In essence, what I got from those experiences,” he writes, “taught me that to become good at conflict resolution, one must experience and welcome conflict.”

In 1961 De La Selva came to the United States to attend college, and found his best opportunity would be to join the army – he could get his English down, and use the GI Bill to advance academically.

Before going to Vietnam he learned French at DLI. Then it was off across the globe to jump school in Okinawa, Japan. Next, De La Selva went to the Central Highlands of Vietnam.

He was there for more than a year, returning to the U.S. and joining DLI staff as a Spanish course writer.

Soon he became an instructor, and then rose to the position of dean, which he says is like being the mayor of a small city – dealing with homeless people trying to live under the buildings, feral cats prowling the base, and a multi-million dollar budget. He served until 2005 and now runs the private nonprofit DLI Alumni organization.

Rep. Sam Farr recognized De La Selva a few years ago for his effort, introducing his name into the Congressional Record.

“Mr. Speaker, Ben is an excellent example of the immigrant young man who arrives in the U.S.A. with a high school diploma, serves in the military, gets an education through the GI Bill, pursues and flourishes in a governmental career, and 40 years later retires with an impeccable and distinguished record,” Farr said. “Ben has achieved the American dream. He exemplifies the highest aspirations of this nation. I am proud to honor him today.”

The honors to celebrate and the stories to share stop when talk turns to his time as a POW interrogator: “Let’s talk about something else,” he says.

He goes on to say that it was a very stressful experience, that his memories aren’t clear on all the details, though he does add, “I interrogated over 100 people almost every day.

“At the time I wasn’t thinking about if it was right that we were there,” he says. “I was thinking about surviving.”

It seems that burying those memories have allowed the first-generation immigrant to move on. To stand on top of them, and forge new ones. And share the lessons of his life with others.

The Man With a Thousand Faces is available at www.bendls.com or by contacting ben.delaselva@pacbell.net