The Shadow of Arms (16 page)

Toi sat staring out at the beach, unaware of the ongoing conversation. Yong Kyu deliberately waited, letting the sergeant do all the talking.

“It was last month, I think. I went downtown with Sax Pak to have a little fun.”

“With who?”

“Mr. Pak, with the army band. There's a club called the Da Nang Sports Club. Incredible. That's where I saw her. Pak knew her pretty well. I asked him to introduce her and he called her over. But I could tell she thought soldiers were no good, know what I mean?”

“Bar girl?”

“No, but quite a looker, that one. I was told she wasn't an entertainer . . . but, hell. Hey, you, go tell Mr. Pak I want to see him.”

As soon as Sergeant Pak showed up, Yun called to him in a loud voice. “Mr. Pak, remember at that club, the Sports Club I think it was, when we went downtown, eh? That woman.”

Pak, a little puzzled, stared at Yong Kyu and at Toi in his mirrored sunglasses.

“Don't worry, it's all right. I mean that bitch with the big mole on her forehead.”

“Oh . . . you mean Hae Jong?”

Yong Kyu jumped in. “Where is she now?”

Pak smoothed back his hair. “I don't know. May have gone home, or back to Saigon.”

“Was she an entertainer?”

“No, she used to work at the PX, the navy PX.”

“What did she do there?”

“She's no ordinary woman. Back home she used to work at the base at Uijeongbu, chief accountant at the PX there. There's nothing she doesn't know about the American accounts. She was so good that they put her in charge of all the records when they did inventory.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, eh . . . while touring on performances, I eh . . . heard she was living with some American officer. She's about thirty years old now.”

Sergeant Yun broke in. “Hey, her looks are killer. Back home she'd make a first-rate actress.”

Yong Kyu didn't ask any more questions. Sergeant Yun kept on running his mouth. “I mean, you've got to speak their language to get it up. Can't understand a word they're chirping underneath.”

“Is that all?” asked Pak cautiously. Yong Kyu smiled as he replied. “We're through with that, but I understand you've had four performances over at Monkey Mountain.”

“What . . . ?”

“Thank you.”

Sergeant Yun interrupted again. “Hey, you're not a lifer. Soon enough you'll take off your uniform and go back to real life, huh? Just take it easy, kill some time here, and then get lost without ever looking back.”

“That's the same for everybody,” Yong Kyu said, “so hurry up and give me my lunch.”

“I spent four months crawling, too. I got my medal. Want to see it?” Sergeant Yun pulled up one pant leg. A large scar from a grenade wound.

“I was laid up in the hospital for two months. They could've sent me home, but didn't. So, out of spite, I extended my stay.”

They ate lunch. Leaving behind Yun, who tried to get them to stay for more drinking, Toi and Yong Kyu crossed the bridge and headed through the airbase. It was already after three. They passed Dong Dao and went into the navy PX. The manager was a middle-aged civilian, neatly dressed in a short-sleeve shirt and tie and wearing gold-rimmed glasses. Yong Kyu showed his ID card and described the woman he was looking for.

“Ah, you mean Mimi. We do have a personnel card on her.”

At the mention of the woman's distinguishing mark, the mole on her forehead, the manager had immediately recognized her and used her American name. He got on an intercom and asked for the personnel card to be brought to him.

“What's this all about?”

“We're conducting an investigation. When did she quit working here?”

“Two months ago. She was fired. Considering her experience and skills we tried to work it out but . . .”

“And the reason for her dismissal?”

“It's a bit delicate . . . let me get you the security officer.”

While he was on the phone, the personnel card came. There was even a photograph attached. Her weight, height, hair and eye color, and other details including her hobbies were recorded on the card.

“When you go out through the back, there's a Quonset hut directly facing you. The security officer will be waiting in there.”

“Can you lend this card to the joint investigation team for a few days?”

“Ask the security officer.”

Yong Kyu passed around the manager's desk and opened the back door. When he went into the Quonset hut, a tall American soldier with short-cropped hair turned around. Once more Yong Kyu presented his ID and told him the purpose of his visit. The American listened and then spoke briefly.

“When we fired her, we reported it to your embassy right away.”

“And the reason for her dismissal?”

“We found her inappropriate to serve as an employee for this organization.”

Judging from the frozen expression on his face, Yong Kyu could tell that this corporal was the one who had fired her. He was probably dispatched from the investigation division headquarters.

“Can we borrow her personnel card?”

“I'll make a copy for you.”

He gave the card to a clerk and a copy was soon brought back.

“Thank you.”

Yong Kyu came up close to him, and said in a tone mimicking the American's, “Mimi is the key to our investigation, so CID is sparing no efforts to locate her. What was the exact reason for her dismissal?”

The security officer seemed reluctant at first to open his mouth, but then shrugged his shoulders and said, “She was fired for possession of heroin.”

Back outside, the weather was stifling hot. Toi was perched on the Land Rover, sucking a cigarette. “Find anything out?”

Yong Kyu waved the card at him.

“Let me have a look.”

Yong Kyu thought twice and then handed it over. Toi glanced through it.

“A real beauty. Thirty, that's thirty-one the way we count age.”

“Read it later, let's just get out of here.”

“Where to?”

“Back to the office.”

Yong Kyu decided that he should get a pair of sunglasses, too. Normally, Madame Butterfly and heroin didn't go together. But in Vietnam, Madame Butterfly, heroin, and the black market—now those went together beautifully. A grand poetic connection. Nothing more to add.

 

 

11

The helicopter was in the air.

Pham Quyen had fastened his seat belt, but the bubble-like cockpit offered little sense of security. Below, the tributaries of the Thu Bon flowed through the plain like the tangled branches of a tropical plant, its swamps connected by a web of narrow waterways like raindrops, dispersing and flowing together as they ran down a windowpane. They were flying toward the dark and ominous jungle of the plateau. The helicopter began to descend as they approached the destination, passing over Chiang Hoa.

As the plains ended there appeared a narrow bottlenecked valley. The plain continued along the upper edges of this lush ravine like flesh clinging to a bony rib. The wide river flowed on peacefully at the bottom of its serpentine canyon. An Diem was situated at the point that looked like the base of the bottle. Even to those with no experience in military affairs, the strategic value of An Diem was obvious at a glance. The Vietnamese pilot sent a message over the radio. Pink smoke began ascending from a white circle below, as small as a coin.

“We're landing, sir.”

“Good. Tell the patrol leader to be ready.”

As they radioed back and forth, the helicopter hung suspended in the air. Then it slowly began a jerky descent. A cloud of red dust floated up. The helipad was large and paved with asphalt. The dust came from the area surrounding the landing strip. As soon as they touched down, Pham Quyen ran to the edge of the pad, bent over and leaning down away from the propeller. A Ranger lieutenant had been waiting for him and was saluting.

“First Lieutenant Kanh, in charge of the guard detail, sir.”

Pham Quyen looked around the heliport. Militiamen, enough for a squad, spread about on watch. They wore black Vietnamese clothing and Burmese jungle hats. Their carbines were in bad shape.

“Is that your patrol?”

“No, sir. We have the platoon stationed up on both sides of the high hill over there. From up there the site is within range of mortars and rockets.”

“And the front line on the other side?”

“The American special forces and our battalion. We've been dispatched from that unit to here, sir.”

“Do you have field glasses?”

The lieutenant barked a command to his staff and a pair of binoculars were immediately brought to Pham Quyen. Just as the lieutenant had said, the buffer detachments were visible. He could make out a high sandbag barricade, barbed wire fences, and a secure operations road. He also scanned both sides of the nearby hill. They had set up machine gun nests, a trench mortar and a 3.5-inch rocket launcher. The soldiers had dug out foxholes and were surveying the opposite sides of the hills. Pham Quyen looked at his watch.

“Fire warning shots.”

The lieutenant hurried to a waiting Jeep and picked up the radio transmitter. As Pham Quyen looked on through the field glasses, 81mm cannon started firing and a heavy machine gun began to sputter. Rockets and trench mortar shells flew up and rained down into the ravine. The valley seemed about to explode from the noise. Cannon smoke was visible from three directions.

“Good job.”

He got into the lieutenant's Jeep and they drove up along the barbed wire on the perimeter of the new hamlet. Outside the trail were two more layers of barbed wire encirclements, and beyond them, a deep trench had been dug for defensive emplacements. He could see the new houses standing there, ready for occupancy. They were made of cement and adobe. Each had been neatly painted white and the windows had bamboo shutters.

“What will be the inspection route?”

“The front row of houses, the community laundry, the public toilet, the school, the playground, and the village hall. The ceremonial ribbon is over there at the main gate of the village.”

They were heading toward the village hall where the dedication ceremony was to be staged. American and Vietnamese flags were hanging everywhere, and streamers with flags of the United Nations member countries were hanging stiffly, like fish from the Thu Bon strung up to dry. Waves of girls in
ahozais
came into view. The girls, bouquets and wreaths in their arms, must have been students from Hoi An.

Already seated on the raised platform were the police band, American and Vietnamese staff from the troop information and education section, a few domestic and foreign reporters, and some prominent local citizens. A pair of MPs were standing guard at either end of the platform. Overhead was a large banner with “Congratulations on the Opening of the Phoenix Hamlet” written in the center and the words “Peace” and “Freedom” in big letters on the two ends. A familiar-looking American major from the advisory council got out of a car and extended his hand to Pham Quyen, and said, “Congratulations.”

Pham Quyen looked at his watch again and added, “From now on An Diem will know peace.”

“The provincial government still has a lot work ahead of it before peace comes to the whole of Quang Nam Province.”

“And what gifts have you brought to commemorate the founding of this settlement?”

“We've supplied some sturdy American spades and other farming implements. It's not enough to go around, but they can be shared.”

“Good idea. Things were different back a few years ago with the strategic hamlets. At one dedication ceremony, there was an excess of several thousand toothbrushes. At another, they opened crates to find heaps of chocolate.”

“We're well aware of those incidents. Another extreme case occurred when somehow women's curlers for permanents were delivered by the bushel. A bureaucratic error.”

They heard the noisy whir of approaching helicopters in the distance. A formation of aircrafts—the governor's helicopter, a Cobra obtained from the US Marines; followed by a Chinook and two more gunships in the rear. Pham Quyen quickly got into the lieutenant's Jeep.

“All the houses have been checked?”

“Yes, sir. We went over all of them this morning with a mine detector. And the platform was double-checked again just a half hour ago.”

“Well done.”

The escort gunships hovered above while the Chinook descended first. The American advisory council emerged from inside. The welcoming party all saluted. They waited for the governor around the helipad perimeter. His Cobra landed and the general got off with a kind, smiling demeanor. Disembarking behind him was a tall American civilian, the only one there wearing a suit and tie, who waved. The two shook hands with each and every one of the American and Vietnamese officers who had arrived before them.

With the lieutenant's patrol Jeep in the lead, they approached the venue of the ceremony. The police band played “The Double-Headed Eagle.” As they mounted the platform, all of the prominent leaders of the An Diem community stood up and the future residents of the new hamlet who had been squatting in front of the platform also nervously got to their feet. Everyone applauded.

Pham Quyen stood before the platform. He waited until everyone took their seats and then said in Vietnamese,

“The official dedication ceremony will now begin.”

He then repeated it in English. A Vietnamese flag was raised over the empty hamlet commons, and the national anthem, composed in the time of the People's Party, was played. The old people kept their lips firmly sealed. The soprano voices of the girl students were at too high a pitch. The flag with its three red lines on a field of yellow fluttered.

Next, The Star-Spangled Banner was raised. Only the American officers saluted. The brass band played a clumsy rendition of “The Stars and Stripes Forever.” The flag was beautiful, its many white stars shining on the blue background in perfect harmony, recalling how the nation's new territories had been integrated as it expanded.

“There will be a congratulatory address by Mr. Butler, the representative of the AID Mission in Da Nang,” announced Pham Quyen.

The civilian who was the sole person in the crowd dressed in a suit kept wiping droplets of sweat from his neck and forehead with a handkerchief. His white suit, white shirt, and dark orange tie made him look like a hotel guest, the kind often seen in Southeast Asia. The winds blowing west from the sea had stopped and the steaming heat of the jungles lying to the east seemed to get trapped and stagnate in the bottle-shaped valley. Butler bowed to General Liam before taking the podium. He removed a prepared speech from the pocket inside his suit jacket and, holding it in his hand, read slowly and distinctly.

“Honorable Governor, prominent citizens and new residents who are gathered here together, I consider it a great honor to be able to stand before you today as the representative of the people of America. Ever since the United States of America came to this land to uphold freedom and peace for our ally, the Republic of Vietnam, the hopes of the Vietnamese people have been one and the same with our American people.”

Pham Quyen was acting as interpreter, so Butler paused in his speech and gave a quick glance down at Pham Quyen at the foot of the platform. Without even referring to any notes, Quyen interpreted the address for the villagers.

“General Liam, Governor of Quang Nam Province and Commander-in-Chief of the Armed Forces of Central Vietnam, Mayor of Hoi An, and villagers, I wish to convey the fact that our aid here has been the result of a request from General Liam himself. The American people are fully aware of the many difficulties facing the Vietnamese people, and we are prepared to leave this land of yours when it is possible for the Vietnamese people to live in peace and prosperity.”

Before turning around to Butler, Pham Quyen muttered in a low voice, “Applaud, applaud.”

The expressionless villagers clapped their palms together. In any event, their faces were half-hidden in the shadows of their big cone-shaped hats. Mr. Butler, a magnanimous smile on his face, waited for the applause to subside before he continued.

“Freedom from poverty, freedom from fear, freedom from suppression of free speech, and the right to defend oneself against foreign intrigues or attacks and to decide one's own future—all these are bestowed upon you. Communists today are indulging in provocations all over the free countries of Asia, trying to wipe out these hopes just mentioned. They started the war in Vietnam, their goal to infiltrate the Free World.

“The ravages of war in Vietnam cannot be blamed on anybody and the future of the Vietnamese people lies with you yourselves. Not only here in Vietnam but all over the world, the Communists are stirring up wars, and the Americans are fighting wherever necessary to save their brothers. Wherever there are Communists, there are American soldiers.

“If Vietnam is overrun by these violent terrorists, the Communists, then Thailand, Burma, Malaysia, Indonesia, and the Philippines will also fall one by one, and that would mean a state of slavery for all the peoples of Southeast Asia.

“America does not like wars. Early in her history, the United States, just like your country, struggled to obtain freedom and human rights, to escape from colonization and to achieve the level of prosperity that we enjoy today. It is a prosperity that America has a responsibility to share with other weaker and less fortunate countries around her. Therefore, the goal of the foreign aid given by the United States is to maintain her promise to help Vietnam free herself from the threat of Communism and regain peace throughout the nation once more. Vietnam is now a patient in critical condition and we, the Americans, are treating Vietnam in order to make her healthy once again.”

In interpreting, Pham Quyen was very sensitive to the differences in nuance between English and his own language. When the ceremony was over, the Americans would get into their helicopters and leave, but from now on the administration and maintenance of the An Diem phoenix hamlet would be the responsibility of the provincial government. So, rather than faithfully interpreting Butler's speech to the villagers, Pham Quyen found it necessary to convey with proper obscurity the position of the provincial administration. It was nothing more than the usual hollow rhetoric and ambiguous trickery. In fact, the harsh reality was that day in, day out, countless Vietnamese were being maimed and bloodied, losing their limbs and their lives. A speech by the American secretary of defense, published recently in Da Nang's English-language newspaper, came to his mind:

“About one hundred countries are engrossed in the difficult task of modernizing their societies. There are no uniform standards for progress across these countries. At one extreme, there are societies still primitively structured, divided into clans or tribes with a weakly unified political system. On the other extreme, there are relatively developed countries that, with various levels of success, have made strides toward agricultural abundance and industrial competitiveness.

“This storm-like surge of rapid development is prevalent throughout the southern hemisphere. In all of history it is difficult to find any precedent even roughly analogous. As a consequence, this traditionally lethargic part of the world has developed into a seething maelstrom of change. On the whole, the changes have not been smooth. If certain confluences of events bring economic stagnation or armed conflict, chaos and violence may rage for many years. This would be true even if there were no threat of Communist aggression. With or without Communist interloping, violence is evident in radical forms across the complex international relationships in a world full of tensions. And the national security of the United States of America is linked with the safety and security of developing countries in the far corners of the earth.”