The Sorrow of War (27 page)

As he approached he felt renewed hope that she had returned while he searched, but once inside the classroom he found no sign of her. Just swarms of mosquitoes.

He threw himself dejectedly back into the hammock, but almost in the same movement sprang out again, heading towards the soldiers' room.

Hammocks. Knapsacks. Pistols. They were all military officers. Some were lying down, others were playing cards. He hesitated a little before asking them about Phuong. A pockmarked cardplayer sitting on a tarpaulin looked up at Kien thoughtfully. "Your girlfriend? Yeah. Very nice little thing. Nicely spoken, very beautiful. Slim neck, pale skin, nice face, and what a charming walk. A feast for the eyes. That her?"

"Yes, commander, that's her."

"She was bathing over in the marsh when I saw her. Nice!" he said.

Kien was shocked.

"Why so shocked? Of course in the marsh, where else is there any water around here? But she finished long ago. Haven't you seen her since then?" he asked.

A loud voice from the other side of the room chimed in: "Now, how could he meet her? She's over screwing the driver at Company 8, right?"The voice belonged to a large bare-chested officer, built like a wrestler.

"Yes, but . . ." Kien stammered.

"But what? I can see you're a spoiled little bourgeois, but remember you're a soldier too. Don't get sentimental, forget that emotional garbage," he said gruffly

Kien was embarrassed and began to stammer.

"But what?" the wrestler said, standing up, showing he was quite tall." What kind of fucking soldier are you? Are you lovesick? Are you from the anti-aircraft unit over at Dragon Jaw Bridge? Or are you a deserter?" he said accusingly.

The commander interrupted. "Don't bully him, Phuc. As for you, soldier, there's nothing to worry about. If she's with the drivers it doesn't really matter. They're hidden in their trucks by the marsh over there. Those two GAZ-57S belonging to Company 8, by the old tree."

"That's odd, I just passed there and didn't see her," said Kien, recovering a bit.

The wrestler laughed. "If they were doing her over in the back of the truck you wouldn't have seen her. She's pretty game. Is she a city slicker?"

Kien hardly heard him. "But I called her. No answer."

"She didn't reply? Well, fuck me, fancy that!" he said with heavy irony. "If I were you I'd slap her wrist for not

replying. Shit, she looked good, pal. But that sort of whore, they're always running off. I wouldn't fuck her if it was free."

Kien, now at breaking point, moved in and punched the wrestler Phuc heavily on the jaw. In the same action he stepped back sharply and drew his pistol, cocked it, and fingered the trigger, aiming it directly into Phuc's big chest.

The cardplayers stopped playing, looking up in silence.

"You're an asshole as well as an idiot," Kien said to him. But he didn't fire. He simply turned and walked away, leaving them in silence. No one ran after him. No one called him. The gamblers continued their game as if nothing had happened.

Kien walked dizzily out of the schoolyard, his head bent, not caring where he was heading. Suddenly, in front of him, were the two black GAZ trucks. He hadn't wanted to see her in there, but his feet took him forward. Stealthily he crept up and looked into the cabin of the first one, then into the back. There was no one at all in the first truck.

He crept up on the second, lifting himself cautiously up to the cabin, but that was also empty. He looked at the covered trailer behind the cabin, drawing his pistol as he approached it. He pushed the canvas aside and was hit by a stink of alcohol, food, and sweat and the sound of snoring. Four men in shorts and T-shirts were asleep, snoring and mumbling, their legs intermingled.They had left their transistor radio on, playing softly. No Phuong.

Kien jumped down, wanting to vomit and wanting to put as much distance between himself and the trucks as possible. Did he believe that shithead wrestler? Had she really jumped in with those four? His head was buzzing, driving him to distraction.The droning grew louder and he realized something else was wrong. Across the sky went another

squadron of jet fighters, their presence drawing anti-aircraft fire, which was now going nonstop. Birds flew away noisily as the big iron birds above started swooping in for another round of bombing, flying in a hand-shaped formation over the anti-aircraft batteries, dropping their bombs. Though far from the area he was still able to imagine the terrible destruction, and he dropped to the ground in protective cover. As he did so two things happened: a ring of fire lifted on the horizon in front of him and the shock waves lit the night, turning dusk into day for a few seconds and revealing Phuong, bathing.

She was to his left and only ten paces from him, kneeling on a smooth rock at the water's edge. Phuong was totally naked, her pale body very clear. Behind her was a grassy plot and some bushes. She faced the clear water of the lake.

Slowly, she looked up at the rain of bombs, the fire from the explosions and the thick smoke billowing up. Then she delicately stepped in a little deeper and continued bathing.

Phuong showed no interest, and no fear. Kneeling again, she scooped water into a helmet, then poured it over her shoulders. She tipped her head back, raised both arms, and doused herself again.

Finally, she stood upright again to rinse and rearrange her long hair, while looking calmly at the retreating American aircraft.

She turned gracefully and walked to the bank, not troubling to see if anyone watched her. She picked up a dark green towel from the grass and began to dry herself. Her breasts shook a little as she dried her arms and shoulders. Her small waist and her pale flat stomach made the dark hair between her thighs look like a piece of velvet. She had beautiful long legs with unblemished milky skin.

Kien watched her every movement, looked over every inch of her skin, like a voyeur hypnotized by the scene.

Phuong set about dressing, wiggling into her bra and panties, then picking up her clothes. She seemed to be showing off to an unseen audience, displaying herself and her new attitudes with a boldness Kien found himself unable to come to terms with. She seemed to be welcoming her new lifestyle, embracing it with a calm, carefree approach. From being a pure, sweet and simple girl she was now a hardened experienced woman, indifferent to vulnerable emotions. To Kien she seemed to be walking away from his life, from herself, from her past and her country, without the slightest regret.

Perhaps it was all his fault. Perhaps one day she would forgive him for dragging her into this fiasco in which she had been gang-raped by thugs during an air raid, then held by force. And finally had to watch him beating a man's head in before her eyes. Perhaps she would forgive him.That was in her character.

But since the train? With the driver? Was all that true? Could he ever forgive her, that was the question. Probably not.

Kien lay there motionless. Far away he could see smoke rising from the bombing raid.The air was heavy and still and the smoke rose gently, signaling the end of the worst day of his life. He raised his pistol slowly, first looking down the barrel, then raising it slowly to his head, his finger on the trigger. Why did people claim that life was always better than death? It wasn't so. He pondered then why he was trembling now, about to take his own life, when he had not hesitated to take the life of another. He moved the pistol around to the point of his nose, his finger still on the trigger. He closed his eyes, but hesitated. He seemed to hear a distant voice calling his name, a voice from far, far away, a sad voice, as though it were calling across water. "Kiiieeennn?" it called.

Then he heard it again. Startled, he opened his eyes and lowered the pistol, letting it drop on the grass.

She was running towards him, calling for him. He kicked the pistol into the water as she approached and it splashed like a fish jumping for an insect.

But she had not seen him. She was still searching, making her own path running through the bushes around the lake. In the dark she missed him, running within a few steps of him, calling.

He waited until she was well past, then left, walking away from the school towards Highway i. It was getting dark by the time he reached the other side of the marsh; by then a deep mist had settled over it, reducing visibility. He groped his way over the last short distance to the road and headed for the hamlet to the north.

Even nearing town he could hear Phuong's faint voice calling his name. He imagined it was the same call he'd heard earlier, echoing somehow through the darkness.

That same evening Kien presented himself to the provincial military headquarters, telling them he'd survived the bombing raids on the station. On the following day he was placed in a newly formed platoon and marched into Nong Cong, to a liaison point. From then on he had no news at all of Phuong until the war ended nearly ten years later.

Well, that was not quite true. He had received one letter when he was stationed by the Dac Bo La river. He was with his scout platoon enjoying the relative quiet of the post—Paris Agreement. The letter didn't come from the North but from the 2nd Division, which was in the batde area Interzone 5. It read:

My name is Ky, but they call me "The Beehive," the one with a pockmarked face. I am now an assistant investigator to Mr. Chon. When the 2nd Division

attacked Kontum the scouts from your regiment came to help us. Perhaps you recall that well, but if you don't it doesn't matter. But I recognized you immediately, and if I had reminded you then, you would have recognized me immediately. But the few times I did come face to face with you during that campaign I kept silent because the fighting was so fierce that it commanded our whole attention. I also hesitated because I would have reminded you of something that happened so long ago. It was in the past and it would have made you unhappy and affected your fighting spirit. But the more I observed you the more I realized you are an experienced senior scout, and would easily have been able to cope.

Now it is quiet, we can take a moment to look back. So, when I got back to the Delta, I decided to immediately write to you. Kien, do you remember the ruined and abandoned school near Thanh Hoa?

Kien put the letter down in amazement. It was not from the bare-chested officer who'd called Phuong a whore, but from the officer with a pockmarked face who'd been in the school.

After the quarrel with you we were rather uneasy. Even though we were already officers, we were still young and innocent and didn't know how to behave properly. We felt terribly bad about what we'd said to you and wanted to run after you to console you, but you had a drawn pistol and we thought better of it.

Some time later, but not long after you had left, the young girl came to us looking for you and calling out your name, asking if we'd seen you. What we told her made her more anxious.

She kept on looking until she was exhausted. It was hard for me to persuade her to return to the classroom because you'd already gone.We had made a very big mistake in kidding you about what she did and we saw that hurt you. Contrary to what we'd told you, your girlfriend was not like that at all. She was charming and kind, and beautiful in appearance, she was very much in love with you.

We stayed in the school for another day. She was still there, waiting for you, when we left.We offered to take her as far as the Pine Forest where trustworthy drivers could give her a lift back to Hanoi, but she refused. She said she would continue south, perhaps to join the Volunteer Youth Brigade. She was so young, so brave, so beautiful, even when she was sad.

We couldn't delay. Our unit left the next evening, with her still in the empty school. So, after seven years of fierce fighting I still recall the incident, and easily recognized you. And that's why I am writing to you now. If you've seen her already, before receiving this letter, that is excellent. Otherwise, I hope my letter will have some good effect. When the war is over and hopes of meeting former friends are realized, find her, Kien, if you are still alive.

The letter warmed Kien's heart, consoling and cheering him. He began to hope for something like a miracle, for some strand from his past to follow into his new postwar life. He might have something wonderful to return to after all.

There would be a miracle, he had written. A miracle that would allow people to emerge unchanged from the war. So, despite the horrors of war, despite the cruelties, the humiliations, despite all the ridiculous prejudices and dogma which

pervaded everyone's life, his Phuong would remain young forever. She would be untainted by war. She would be forever beautiful. No one would ever come close to her beauty. She was like a green meadow after spring rains, as fragrant as the flowers in bloom waving against the horizon and waves of fresh grass rustling. She was passionate, untamed, magnetic, with that same miraculous and unfathomable beauty, a beauty that made the heart ache; a vulnerable, innocent beauty forever on the brink of the abyss of destruction.That would be his miracle: Phuong would be untouched, unchanged.

Several years later, on a night when he was deep in desperation, Kien dreamed that his life had been transformed into a river stretching before him. He saw himself floating towards his death. Then at the very last moment, when he was about to go over the edge, he heard Phuong's call echoing from that bitter dusk of the marsh near the school. It was the final call of his first love.Though they hadn't had a happy life together or moved towards a glowing future, their first love had not been in vain. They were back there in the past together, and nothing could change or rob them of that.