The Shadow of Arms (40 page)

From then on, leading a peaceful life, we faced the task of constructing an independent, democratic, and unified Vietnam with all of our fellow countrymen. However, the American imperialists, who had lent support to the French in the past, once again are seeking to permanently divide our nation, and are scheming to enslave the people of the southern part of Vietnam by means of a restructured colonial system, making our southern region a military base for control of Southeast Asia in preparation for a war of conquest. They set up the facade of an independent state by planting their puppets in powerful posts, and use their economic policy advisory group to place all of the military, economic, political, and cultural structures of South Vietnam under their control. Conspiring with traitors to our people, the invaders established a system of merciless dictatorship without precedent in the long history of our nation. They deprive the people of all liberty and persecute all democratic and patriotic activity. They implement monopolies in the economy; suppress industry, agriculture, and trade; and extort farmland from all classes.

They have a baneful influence upon the mentality of the people, deploy tactics calculated to annihilate the national spirit of our fellow countrymen, and use all available means to attempt to befuddle our consciousness and make us into degenerates, even as they expand their military presence, build new bases, and exploit their military power as an instrument to persecute the people and to execute the belligerent preparations for war that are none other than the basic policies of imperialism. Their cruel policies and dictatorial politics have led to the commission of innumerable crimes. The sound of gunfire has never ceased throughout the South and thousands of our compatriots have been atrociously slaughtered. Hundreds of thousands of people are now being tortured and victimized, suffering in concentration camps and prisons. Countless abodes have been incinerated into ash; people have been driven from their homes and coerced into their armies. The tactic of concentrating the people in prosperous zones or on newly developed land has resulted in a great number of families being broken up and scattered to the winds. Heavy taxes, white terror, lost jobs, and impoverishment have become a great hardship to the general populace and constitute a threat to the very survival of the people.

Peace, independence, democracy, personal security, peaceful unification of the nation—these are the desperate desires in the depths of our hearts. These longings, having been turned into ironclad resolutions, are giving us singular strength and are overthrowing the cruel domination of the imperialists and their agents. We are appealing now to our countrymen to rise up for a full-scale struggle to protect our families and to save our nation. For the sake of the essential interests of our nation, and to lead a full-scale struggle that will meet the demands of the people for justice, following the progressive trend in global development, we hereby declare the establishment of the National Liberation Front of Vietnam.

“Brother, are you in there?”

Lei knocked at the door. Quickly concealing the leaflets behind him, Minh instinctively pressed the door with one hand. It was locked.

“Yes? What is it?”

“Let's have lunch together.”

“I don't feel like eating.”

Lei did not go away.

“Open up for me.”

“Leave me alone. I'm going to take a little nap.”

“There's something I need to talk over with you.”

“Later, all right?”

Lei left. As he read the pamphlet, Minh had been daydreaming that he was back in Atwat—the room had become his barracks. If he had been from the countryside, by now he would have been assigned combat duty in the jungle. For an urban guerilla, the primary object of his watchfulness was his own family, his own neighbors. Wasn't the whole city his battlefield? When the instructors said he would have to overcome the temptations of city life, they had meant he had to be on guard against the pleasures and the frivolity of the city, but on another level they could have meant that he has to defeat the vanity that urged him to reveal himself. Under his breath, Minh rehearsed the ten essential points of the NLF oath, followed by the final moving phrases: “Victory certainly shall be ours. For the combined strength of our people is not to be broken, justice is on our side, and colonialism has had its century in the sun and is now bound for extinction. Peace, democracy, and the national liberation movement are spreading far and wide like a storm, winning one victory after another.”

Pham Minh wrapped the leaflets back up and put them back inside the dictionary cover. He wondered how long he had been sleeping. He rose from the wicker bed and threw open the latticed shutters on the window. It was nearing evening and the twilight sky was beautiful. Monday had almost flown away. Feeling thirsty, he went out to the living room and found Mi there playing with her three-year-old daughter. His little niece came over into his arms and he put the girl into the hammock and rocked it jerkily. She screeched with laughter. Mi seemed uncomfortable and quietly went into the kitchen. Minh took his niece outside into the yard and played with her for a while. Then, with the little girl in his arms, he went through the reed screen into the kitchen where his sister Mi was washing rice. He spoke first to her back.

“I'm sorry for what I said earlier.”

She didn't stop what she was doing, but seemed to be waiting for him to continue. After a few seconds, he went on.

“Some people are strong, but there are weak ones in this world, too. There are strong plants like baobab trees and weak ones like violets. About the way I feel, I'm afraid you
...
I'm in despair now. You could try to understand.”

Mi stopped washing the rice and turned her head.

“Come here.”

Minh set the child down and approached his sister. She embraced him and seemed about to weep.

“I'm sorry,” she said, patting his back. “Minh, you're not like Quyen. Ever since you were a little boy, you were always my favorite.”

“I've got some ideas of my own.”

“I know, I know. I won't drive you into a corner anymore. I couldn't help thinking of my children's father, that was why.”

The next day the Pham brothers appeared at the air force battalion headquarters in Da Nang. Minh was wearing a uniform given him by his brother, a sergeant's chevron on the shoulder, and he carried transfer papers. They gave him a shiny set of dog tags with his new unit. His name must have been inserted into a space on the roster vacated by a deserter or an airman killed in action. Minh sat there in the outer office for about an hour leafing through newspapers as his brother chatted and chuckled with the commander. When Quyen emerged with a short lieutenant colonel, Minh saluted to the commander as his brother had taught him. The lieutenant colonel merely glanced at him.

Their next stop was the air base on the edge of downtown toward Dong Dao. The Vietnamese air force detachment was right across the street from the US base. A few patrol planes and two tired-looking squadrons of older fighters and helicopters were parked on the strip. Like the Vietnamese navy, the air force had no independent operational authority and only served as an adjunct to the US forces, so there were not many pilots around. Here, also, Minh was a ghost on the duty roster worth five thousand piasters a month to the commanding officer. He finished the formalities by shaking hands with the major who was in charge of the detachment. The major cautioned him not to go outside of Da Nang unless it was absolutely necessary.

“By April next year, you'll be the first one in our family to emigrate,” Pham Quyen said brightly as they left, looking as though a load had just been lifted from his shoulders.

Minh went back home and changed his clothes. Then he picked up the disguised bundle of leaflets and headed for Hoa teahouse, the rendezvous point for cell B. He drank some tea with the leader of cell B and exchanged a few words before leaving.

“Any other orders?”

“None.”

“The date is unchanged?”

“Changes, if any, will be handed down from above.”

On Wednesday morning Minh put on black Vietnamese clothing and went to Nguyen Cuong's store for his first day of work. Over his shoulder he slung a canvas bag containing two bananas, a shaving kit, and one of the dictionary covers. It was about seven thirty when he reached the warehouse in Le Loi market. Cuong was already in the office and the female clerk was making Tonkin-style coffee, boiling water over an alcohol burner.

“Ah, welcome. Let's have a cup of coffee together.”

Cuong and Minh sat down across from each other.

“Let me introduce the two of you, since you'll be working together. This is Miss Ran.”

Minh and the clerk nodded to each other. The coffee was strong and aromatic.

“We open the store at seven in the morning,” Cuong said, “like our competitors in Le Loi market. It's the early bird that catches the worm, you know. From seven till twelve we move merchandise in and settle payments for transactions closed the day before. Lunch and siesta go from twelve to three. From three to six we ship goods going out of town and continue with collections. At six o'clock you can head home. Of course, things vary occasionally, but that's more or less the routine. Now, Miss Ran, you have that detailed list of the incoming and outgoing merchandise for
today, don't you?”

Miss Ran handed the typed work orders over to Cuong, who passed it to Minh.

“Check the accuracy of the newly delivered stock as shown here and
let
me know. Same with the things being shipped. I'm doing the bargaining myself, but completing the deals will be your responsibility, Mr. Pham. I don't think you'll have any difficulty.”

“I'll do my best, sir.”

Cuong pulled the telephone closer. “I'd better inform your brother what we're up to,” Cuong said, looking over at Minh. He asked the switchboard at the provincial government office to connect him with the governor's office.

“Major Pham, please. Not in yet? This is Nguyen Cuong Trading Company. Yes, yes, please do.”

Cuong hung up the phone and said to Minh, “Now let's go to the warehouse.”

As they opened the back door leading to the warehouse, it was still dark inside but for a few beams of morning sunlight streaming through the cracks in the big door. Cuong turned on the light. He took out a set of keys and handed them to Minh.

“So, this one's the key to that door over there that opens from the side path. This one opens the warehouse from the office, the way we came. And this one is for the front gate. Hold onto these.”

Once Cuong had left, Minh did a count to confirm all the stock on hand in the warehouse. Three hundred bags of cement, twelve hundred galvanized iron sheets, two hundred fifty sacks of fertilizer, two hundred bags of food, and five hundred sheets of plywood. Then he checked the delivery orders and opened the main gate all the way up. Bright sunlight flooded in, bathing almost half the warehouse. He moved the desk and chair into the shadows to avoid the heat and sat down.

The door from the office opened and Nguyen Thach came in. “Ah, already in, I see,” Thach said. “Contacts with the cells on Monday and yesterday went fine, I hope?”

“Yes, I delivered the books.”

“Where do you meet C today?”

“An open cafe down by the pier. All the members will be there. Am I to be dropped from cell C, sir?”

“There's been a call up of reinforcements. I'm afraid only the leader will show up today. Now I'd like you to become friendly with some of the clerks and shop owners in the market. The sooner the better. Might not be a bad idea to treat them to lunch in a few days. As for the traders who bring trucks from outside Da Nang for pickups, you'll meet them through your work. One of the merchants on our side is coming up today, so I'll introduce him to you.”

“What're my orders for next week, sir?”

“Each cell in turn will change their contact days. By then you'll have new tasks. Reports will have to be made on the results of dissemination of the leaflets. The training period is four weeks. After that, the real missions will begin. But you, Comrade Pham, will have to help me with my responsibilities for procurement and finances. C-rations and arms are what you should have in mind. We have to keep the guerillas on the outskirts of Da Nang supplied with ammo and mortar shells as well as food and medicine. We'll also have to find weapons for the recent reinforcements.”

“Will each cell be supplied with weapons, sir?”

“Yes. Pistols and automatic rifles are the most useful arms in Da Nang. Then, too, there's a need for hand grenades, explosives, and blasting caps.”

“Are we stealing them?”

“No . . . there's plenty of such stuff floating around this city. Over across from the smokestack is the center of the black market for arms. We have to secure as many mortars, rocket launchers, artillery pieces, and shells for them as we can from the US forces. We also need a lot of antitank mines. And then . . .”

Nguyen Thach looked at the list of goods to be delivered that Minh had set down on the desk and said, “Didn't your brother tell you about the phoenix hamlets project?”

“Yes, he also mentioned cinnamon up in the highlands.”

“Cinnamon?”

“Yes, sir. Looks like he plans to mobilize troops to harvest cinnamon.”

Nguyen Thach gently laughed. “He did come up with a brilliant idea. The two of them will soon recover the glory of the Bao Dai era. Cinnamon operations . . . probably more than half of all the AID-funded supplies for the phoenix hamlets project will be channeled through the provincial government here. Three hundred hamlets are to be built. Already relief food for the refugees is moving through here . . . there'll be a mountain of rice pouring in. But what we have our hearts set on are the new carbines, M1s and M2s, to be supplied to arm the militias in the new hamlets.”