The Sorrow of War (20 page)

But when they reached their street and were about to enter the building, the air-raid siren sounded. The driver, who was going to wait, panicked and ran off without being paid, in search of a bomb shelter. It was getting dark quickly and they felt the seconds ticking by.Yet every moment was to be treasured.

"Stay overnight," Phuong whispered to him. "The train will be gone long before the all-clear siren. Stay!"

Kien, in fear of a charge of desertion, shook his head sadly.

"No? Well, we can't wait here. We'll have to take the cyclo. The coward can find it later," she said.

Kien was reluctant.

"Pedal!" she ordered. "We'll teach this chicken-hearted driver a lesson. The posters tell us to direct all efforts to the front line, so let's do it!"

Kien laughed. Of course, she was right. Phuong jumped into the seat and he got onto the cyclo and started pedaling. It was dangerous, as they were the only ones in the empty streets and the guards might arrest them. But as they neared the station the all-clear sounded, a signal for them to burst into ecstatic laughter. Speeding down the final empty streets to the station, their laughter echoing from empty shop-fronts, catching a train to the war. Sensational!

"And what about the look on his face when he comes out from the shelter?" they shouted, and laughed again.

But the train had gone. The 36th Battalion was heading for the front.The entire force, except for one deserter.

The penalty for desertion was the firing squad.

Stunned and embarrassed, Kien stood on the now-empty station platform, staring into the distance along the empty lines.

An unperturbed stationmaster told them the train would stop at Dong Van or Phu Ly. "Can't really tell. It's a troop train," he said, looking at Kien.

Phuong tried to lighten his mood. "The score's one-one," she said. They'd both missed their trains.

"Look. All's not lost. Let's hitch a ride to the next station. This is wartime, there'll be plenty of ways to deal with this problem. Let's get something to eat first." She spoke quickly, to allay his fears.

"God, you look exhausted!" she added suddenly.

As they stood there, his war had started.

The 36th Battalion had traveled to Van Trai, in the southwest. While Kien was making tracks to catch up with the other new recruits, who were by then as far south as Cu Nam, B-52 bombers had struck, giving them a nasty welcome to the war.

The battalion commander, who had threatened the Hanoi boys with desertion charges if they missed the train, had been one of the first to be killed.The bombers had struck first at Van Trai station, the battalion taking heavy casualties. They had then been dispersed, some continuing south by road and the others ordered to sea to continue their move south. But the B-52S struck again, sinking all the sea transports, and by the time the 36th Battalion had been regrouped on land there were hardly any men left, and those few continued as supplementary units to others down Road 9 to the front.

A dozen recruits went to the front. Throwing a dozen untrained men into that battle would be as effective as throwing an ice cube into a blazing furnace.

Kien, unaware of the raids because of the wartime blackout on news, especially bad news, was still hours behind when the attack came. It was not until ten years later that he heard the details: strangely, it was on the peace train from Saigon in May 1975 that the story emerged.

One of the survivors of the attack had been his deputy commander, Huy. By chance, Huy was in the same compartment on the peace train. By then he had been blinded, but Kien recognized him at once and called his name. Huy, however, had forgotten Kien.

"The luck of the unlucky," he said to Kien on hearing how he'd missed the train. "If you hadn't missed the train you'd have probably been killed at Van Trai in the first air raid. I escaped only because I'd moved to another compartment. Pure luck.

"After the first bombing we continued with what was left of the train, thinking the B-52S wouldn't be back for a while. We were wrong, of course.

"Look, if you'd deserted then no one would have noticed. What did happen, anyway?" he asked.

Kien and Phuong had hurried from the station, intending to hitchhike and get by road to the station just ahead of the troop train. They had no idea where the train would be but knew that like all trains in those times, it would be ponderously slow. Kien was urged on by an inner fear of being branded a deserter, a designation he of all people didn't deserve.

In his urgency he had ignored the perils of Phuong's presence—an attractive, smartly dressed teenage student traveling with him at night on roads ranked as strategic routes and on full war footing, with military checkpoints and road patrols at frequent intervals.

The first hints of their predicament came when drivers of passing vehicles deliberately turned their faces away from the young couple trying to hitchhike. Deserter? The penalties for helping deserters were heavy.

"I'll stop them," said Phuong, stepping forward."There's a wartime traffic priority on helping women. But I'll make a deal: I'll try cars going in either direction. If we get a ride north towards Hanoi, let's go home and stay the night together. If we get a car going south, we'll catch your troop train."

Kien was caught off balance. "But . . ."

"Always a 'but' with you! Going back to Hanoi with me makes you uneasy?You've got nothing to worry about.You can blame it on the Americans, and on me. Now, agreed?" She didn't wait for an answer but stepped out onto the road.

From a distance they saw two cone-shaped headlights with blackout hoods covering them, restricting the light to a small area ahead. It was a truck, grinding along noisily, going south.

The driver could hardly believe his eyes. A beautiful girl had stepped from the edge of the road just ahead of him. She was waving a ribboned conical hat which she'd just removed, revealing lovely long hair.

He jammed on the brakes and the truck screeched to a halt, burning rubber.

He flung the passenger door open, shouting, "Where are you going? Don't tell me you're out for a stroll in the cool air!"

"No. I'm going to the front line.The air's not cool there at all," she quipped back.

"The front? The war? Are you kidding?" said the driver.

"Please," she said, "we need to get to Phu Ly. It's important."

The driver then saw a young soldier, in full uniform, appear beside her. It was the first time the driver had noticed him. "I'm not going to Phu Ly. Dong Van, kid."

Phuong turned to Kien and pulled him forward. Then she turned to the driver, offering her hand. He leaned over and lifted her in, flattered to be close to her. "Careful, now. The step's broken," he said warmly.

Kien reluctantly followed. He slammed the truck door, but remained silent.

"You're really kind," said Phuong, looking at the driver for the first time. He was a rough-looking character.

"Such nice manners!" he answered.

"Indeed," she said.

"Are you really going to the front line?" he asked warily.

"Hope so."

"Pity."

"Why?"

"Well, a classy little lady like you. If you're only going as far as Dong Van, even Phu Ly, you've still got a long way to go," the driver said. He spoke only to her, ignoring Kien.

"We're chasing a troop train. Once we're on the train we'll really be moving. Think you can beat the train? It left Van Dien at seven."

"Shit, I can beat those train drivers any time," he boasted. "I'll be at your station before them."

They rode on in silence for a few miles. He sneaked a few appreciative glances at her. His ponderous brain had problems keeping up a lively conversation.

"Any train'll stop if you stand in front of it waving your hat for a brake," he said, flirting clumsily.

"You're funny," she said. "Heading into war, yet you seem lighthearted about it."

The driver took it as a compliment."Sure.We're drivers for the State.We do everything better than the bourgeois boys like your little friend here.You'll soon find out who the real men are.The front's very amusing, oh very amusing. A fucking riot."

The driver had switched the cab lights off and it was now pitch-dark inside. He drove at high speeds along the empty road, occasionally using the hooded lights which he operated by foot pedal. Kien was pleased he was nearing his unit, but the happiness was tinged by an undefined fear. He had ignored the crude driver; getting to the unit was more important than how he got there.With Phuong beside him it felt even better, although he had no idea of what she would do when he rejoined his unit.

He was kidding himself. He knew she was speeding headlong to the front into certain peril.

In the background the driver, now relaxed and feeling no need to impress Phuong, swore roughly as he crashed through the gears and went about his job of getting to Dong Van on time.

Phuong was dreamily calm, rocking between the two men. When the truck hit rough patches she rested alternately on Kien's, then the driver's shoulder. Finally the sky brightened. A full moon emerged from behind a cloud-bank and moonlight filtered through into the cabin.

"There it is!" shouted the driver, pointing to a slow-moving engine and several railcars dimly visible in the moonlight across the fields.

"Your train. We'll beat it into Dong Van by five minutes," he said confidently. He seemed to forget about flirting with Phuong and got back to his beloved driving. Beating the train into Dong Van was an important goal.

"Shit! That locomotive sticks out like fire on a lake, any fucking bomber pilot could take it out without even using flares," the driver complained.

It was true. Red sparks flew from the engine with each powerful stroke of the pistons. Kien thought it looked like thousands of big fireflies escaping into the air, tracing an obvious, fiery line for others to see.

The driver murmured, half to himself, "I wouldn't be taking on the Americans by sending troops in a fucking slow train. That's a sure way of going straight to hell." But Phuong's response was to giggle and grasp Kien's hand excitedly.

Nearing the station the driver pulled the truck off the road, to keep it concealed."Go along the lines, that way you won't be seen getting to the platform," he advised. "If it looks like it's not stopping, just wave your hat, that'll work."

Kien got down. Phuong went to follow him but the driver had his strong arm around her waist, hugging her. "Listen," he whispered,"I'll be coming back in two hours to make the run back to Hanoi.Wait for me here." She tried to leave but he held on. "You're so sexy, so beautiful. I can't believe you're throwing yourself into the front line. What a waste!" He let her go. As she started down he said hopefully, "Two hours from now, I'll come back. Be here!"

Phuong and Kien, hand in hand, ran quietly along the edge of the rail tracks. Behind them a train whistle screeched in the night and below them the ground trembled as it got closer.

Nearing the end of the platform they stopped and faced each other. Another parting.They embraced and kissed desperately, both crying their farewells as the rumbling got louder until with a deafening roar the locomotive slowly moved past them, puffing noisily and spraying out steam as it creaked to a halt.

In their embrace they had not noticed the silence that followed. No voices. No sign of human activity in the railcars. They broke from their embrace and began walking along the platform, past a baggage car, then another, then a flatcar piled heavy with cargo covered by a tarpaulin. It was a freight train.

The stationmaster, carrying a lantern, approached them. Kien asked, "The military train, brother. Where is it? The troop train from Hanoi?"

The stationmaster lifted the lantern to get a closer look at them. "Are you mad? Want to go to prison, or swallow a few bullets? That's military information. Piss off, or I'll call the police."

The stationmaster moved on, leaving them standing. "Let me ask him," said Phuong and she broke away, running after the man. In a few minutes she returned, looking serious. "Your train went through twenty minutes ago. This is a freight train, but also heading forVinh, following the troop train. Your unit's ahead on the same line. Jump on! We'll only be twenty minutes behind them by the time it reaches Vinh."

It was a risk.Vinh, a big port city halfway between Hanoi and the DMZ border dividing North Vietnam from South Vietnam, was an obvious destination for both men and materials going south. He'd mingle with the others there.

They clambered up, pushing the door wider. Underfoot it felt mushy, like soil. "Shut the goddam door," came a rough voice from the dark. "They'll catch us with the door open. Quick, gimme yer hand."

"Just stand aside," said Phuong, swinging herself in easily.

"A fucking girl!" said a drunken voice.

"Get out of the way," commanded Phuong. "Let us through."

When they were both in, with Kien kneeling, she whispered, "Lie down. The train's moving."

"You shouldn't stay," Kien said.

"So, you want to leave me again?" she said, taking his hand. "I'm going to go a little farther with you, that's all."