March 1974: Northeast Laos: Major Vong gave a quick set of orders: a man to stand outside the door to prevent anyone from entering; a man to prepare the hypodermic syringe; two men to undress Mana. He himself sat on the chair and thought out his next move. So far, so good. The element of surprise and bluff, along with superb confidence, had got them into the camp. Now they had to get out, with Mana, leaving Tâ behind. He had already considered several courses of action but the solution had to depend on the circumstances of the moment. One method was kill both the Commanding Officer and the Political Commissar, Commil and Compol as he thought of them; one was to overpower them and, gagged and bound, leave them to be found; one was to make them insensible with poison; and one was to walk out as they had walked in. He himself was ready for any one of them. Speed was essential but, for the sake of a clean break, he was prepared to sacrifice a couple of hours. The dose he had for Tâ should last twenty-four hours and find him slightly disorientated when he awoke. That was how Tâ had said he could cope with the situation so that’s how it had to be. He watched the others carry out their tasks. He made up his mind: he would take care of the two senior men by giving them some doped coffee and isolate the camp by burning down the communications centre: for both tasks he was fully prepared.
‘Listen: the man outside the door will stay until he sees the communication centre, the comcen, burning. You and you will find the comcen, you know roughly where it is already, and set it alight, at, say, as near 9 o’clock as possible. You,’ to the fourth, ‘will stay with Mana. Bind him and gag him but, with the guy outside, walk him to near the guardroom as soon as the blaze has caused the general alarm. That’s Plan A.’
By now Tâ and Mana were dressed in what the other had been wearing. ‘If anything goes wrong, Plan B will be to wait until I return from having disposed of the two boss men. The two who should have burnt the comcen will report here at 10 p.m. If we get separated outside the camp, the two bodyguards will make their own way with Mana to where we left the escort. That’s the first fall-back position. If that’s compromised, the second fall-back position will be the clump of trees where we crossed Route 61. Same recognition signals as before. Any questions? No? Good! So, get to it! Goodbye Tâ,’ he said as the needle was being inserted. Tâ didn’t reply. Vong left the room, having a word with the man guarding the door as he went. The whole business had taken five and a half long minutes.
He had a shrewd idea of the layout of Ban Ban camp from aerial photographs, debriefings and interrogations to update his own personal knowledge. As he walked down the road to where the senior officers and important visitors were housed, he patted his pockets and shrugged his shoulders to make his pack sit squarely. He whistled a revolutionary tune.
‘Over here. Over here,’ he thought it was Commil. ‘Come in and tell us what’s what.’
Vong entered and, with a cheery smile, took his pack off and put it in a corner. He took the chair he was offered and said, ‘My, my! What a business. First orders were for tomorrow and then we were needed for another investigation rather quicker than expected.’ His brow furrowed. ‘Don’t tell me you weren’t informed of the change.’ Both Commil and Compol shook their head. ‘You weren’t? Then I must apologise for what must seem infernal cheek.’
The other two men seemed mollified and visibly relaxed. ‘This new treatment that we have got from our colleagues in Moscow is most interesting and a radical departure from what is known as “western medicine”. Some of it is delicate, some of it relies on shock. The reason for our getting here in the afternoon – had we not been delayed – was to introduce ourselves and settle in before tonight’s session. As it is, nothing has been wasted by our late arrival. Dr. Tanh Bên Lòng explained why to you.’
As he was talking, he was taking in every detail of the room. ‘I haven’t been here for some time. I was last here, when was it now, soon after it became part of the Liberated Zone. You’ve had a lot done to it since. The hospital, for instance. We used to have the comcen there. Cooking was done centrally not far from the stream that circles this part of the camp.’
‘Yes, we have changed things around since then. The comcen is where the offices used to be – over there,’ and Commil automatically pointed the direction.
‘You may be interested in watching Dr. Tanh Bên Lòng treating Mana. We’ve given him a jab and the Doctor is sitting with him in the dark. Boring but essential. Nice man, the Doctor. Haven’t known him long. Terribly absent-minded. Apt to forget his own name at times! Gave me quite a turn at first. Would you care to participate later? We’d like you to. Be of help in filling in details of recent behavioural trends. In any case, I’ve got to stay awake. I’ll tell you what, I’ve got some fresh Bolovens coffee with me. Get some hot water could you and we’ll have a brew, shall we? I’m dying for a cup after my walk.’
‘Yes, we’d like to join you. Won’t take long to get some water heated up.’ Commil got up and went into another room. Vong heard him pottering about and, from the noises, presumed he was kindling a fire. Left alone with Compol, he tried to steer the conversation into topics that could confirm some of the rumours and speculations that General Etam had been making, but nothing much productive ensued.
‘Kettle’s boiling,’ came Commil’s voice. ‘Do you want to percolate the stuff or what? Percolating it takes time.’
‘No. I have had this prepared like the instant stuff you can buy,’ called back Vong, hoping that the two men had heard of instant coffee. ‘I suggest you bring cups and kettle in here while I get the coffee out of my pack.’
‘Good idea!’ Commil brought cups and kettle in and put them on the table. Vong went over to his pack and rummaged around for the coffee container. It was made of plastic and, from the outside, looked normal. Inside, however, it had been especially prepared, thanks to Mango. It was in two sections and the lid was attached to a lever that, depending on how much pressure was applied, could allow one or other section to be covered. In the container normal coffee had been put into one of the sections but, in the other, it had been doctored with the barbiturate Phenobarbitone. Vong, unscrewing the lid as he came back to the table, asked for a spoon. He was lucky in that the change over from one section to the other was masked to an extent as the two hurricane lamps only gave a subdued and slightly flickering light. He took the three cups and lined them up in front of him, then, looking at Compol, asked, ‘Weak or strong? One spoonful or two?’
‘Oh, so-so, thanks. One and a bit,’ and Vong carefully carried out his instructions, secure in the knowledge that the dope was strong enough to act for half a spoonful. ‘There you are, Comrade,’ he said, passing the cup over. ‘And you, Comrade?’ he asked Commil.
‘Much the same, please, but maybe a bit stronger.’ His was also doled out and the cup handed to him. As they were adding water to their brew, Vong switched the inner lid over. ‘I’ll have two spoonfuls to keep me awake after my walk,’ he said conversationally and ladled himself out a couple of them. ‘Be a kind fellow and put some water in for me. Thanks.’
Coffee in front of them, they continued to talk and sip. ‘The processing of the coffee beans not to need percolating makes just a tiny difference to the flavour. I rather like it myself.’
‘So that’s what it is,’ said Compol. ‘I thought for a moment that my palate had changed. Yes, the flavour is agreeable, isn’t it?’
Ten minutes later, they had emptied their cups. They chatted inconsequentially for a while then Vong asked them if they’d like any more before he put the coffee away? He could have saved himself the trouble. The two officials were already unconscious, as he knew they would be. He had only said it for form’s sake, just in case anybody was in earshot. He went into the other room and had a good look around. He fetched the kettle and the three cups, washed them and put one away. In both the other two he put a trace of unadulterated coffee powder and a spot of water. He swilled them both around, made them seem as though they had been drunk from by putting them to his lips and returned to the table. He put the coffee container back into his pack, withdrew a small bottle and, opening it, put it under the nose of each sleeping man for at least a minute, being careful not to inhale any himself. That really should fix them. He glanced at his watch. 8 p.m. Good timing. He quickly, yet thoroughly, searched the quarter for any papers, collecting what he found. He took a piece of paper from his own pocket, paper that was unattributable as it had no watermark, tore it in two and wrote something on both pieces. He put one piece into the pocket of each man, put his pack on, blew out the hurricane lanterns and stepped outside, having quietly shut the door. He listened intently. He made his way to the other quarter, Compol’s, searched it by torchlight for any documents, then made his way towards the comcen.
He made a noise like a frog croaking, three times. An answering three croaks came from the darkness. Vong made three more and two shadows emerged. ‘Ready?’ he whispered. ‘Yes,’ the answer was hissed. ‘Everything is set and ready.’
‘Good. I’ve fixed my targets. As soon as you’ve destroyed the comcen come to the isolation ward. Not heard anyone walking around? Most people in this camp go to bed early. I’m off to Mana now.’
Soundlessly, the three men parted. The two detailed to burn down the comcen went to the far side of the building and put the final touches to a sodium-filled device into which they put a primer and connected two leads therein. By then it was nearly 9 o’clock and, on the hour, they joined the leads to a positive and negative terminal on a small 1.5 volt battery to set the sodium alight. Using long forceps, they applied the blaze, like that of a blow lamp, to the wooden uprights. When satisfied that the uprights were burning, they did the same to the roof, in several places. They were, by then, confident that their handiwork would be successful so, going the twenty paces to the river, they threw away the device which sank with a loud hiss and a nasty smell. They then made their unhurried way to the hospital’s isolation ward.
At the isolation ward, Vong checked with the door sentry that no one had tried to enter and went inside. Tâ was in the bed that Mana had been in, breathing deeply. Vong felt his pulse and decided he was safe. He gently turned Tâ’s face to the wall, pulled the sheet up and tucked in the mosquito net. Mana, dressed in Tâ’s blue uniform, was bound and gagged, conscious, eyes wild and rolling, completely mystified. Vong said to Mana’s guard, ‘When I say so, untie his hands and feet. You and the man on the door will put yourselves one on each side of him and walk him to near the guardroom. I’ll be with you. Be ready to make a dash for it if we can’t get him or ourselves out of the camp peaceably.’
At 9.12 p.m. the two men arrived from the now-blazing comcen and reported what they had done. ‘On our way! Follow me,’ Vong ordered and they reached the central road, crossed it, skirted round the back of the central cookhouse and watched the guardroom, surprised that no alarm of the fire had yet been given. Almost directly they did hear shouting as the burning building showered sparks high into the air. There was a commotion at the guardroom.
‘Stay here for a moment,’ said Vong as he ran forward to the sentry in front of the building. ‘Every one of you to the scene of the fire. The whole lot, do you understand? Those are the orders the Commissar has given and sent me to tell you. Quick. Go and see if there’s any danger elsewhere. Grief but you’re slow. Hurry up!’ he ordered, infusing them with an urgency that eventually got them moving. ‘I’m going back to the fire. Follow me.’
In the confusion, he once more slipped into the shadows, rejoined his men and, unobserved by anyone, they left the camp.
One of the characteristics of the Communist-orientated armies is inflexibility. All orders and initiatives stem from the political bosses who reign supreme, so it seems, even to the extent of forcing decisions that override tactical requirements on the field of battle. Once a course of action was planned and embarked upon, it was sacrosanct. In matters of the purest routine, the well-worn ruts were slavishly followed. In emergencies everybody waited for the political Supremo. When, in this case, neither the Political Commissar nor the CO appeared, astoundingly no one reacted positively to try and put the fire out. Thus the comcen, which contained the radio sets and the land line terminal, was burnt to the ground.
Little bunches of men, attracted like moths to a bright light, stood around gawping, until eventually the next senior military man, the Deputy, announced in a loud voice that he would go and report to the officers’ quarters and tell the two superiors that the fire had burnt itself out, meanwhile the guardroom men were to return to their post and the in-lying picket was to patrol the camp to check any untoward discrepancy. The Deputy was an earnest, bespectacled man in his early thirties and, although on the military side, was a candidate for the political stewardship. He knew the Standing Orders for Alarms but none of these maestros had prepared him for what he saw by the light of his torch having repeatedly knocked on his superior’s door in vain. The two leaders sat at the table, their heads touching it, apparently fast asleep, with an empty coffee cup in front of each man. He coughed nervously. No reaction. He found some matches and lit one of the hurricane lanterns the better to have his hands free. He then shook first one man then the other. They both slumped farther forward. Something was horribly wrong. He had a modicum of first-aid training so he felt each man’s pulse. Both were sluggish though regular. His next thought was to get them to the hospital so he returned to the main part of the camp to find some fatigue men. He detailed the first four men he found to go and fetch two stretchers from the hospital and to report to him at the officers’ quarters. It took them nearly half an hour to bring them. The Deputy led the four soldiers to the CO’s quarter and told them to lift the stricken men, gently, ever so gently, one by one, and lay them on a stretcher. The soldiers, goggle-eyed at such an unexpected sight, were so careful in carrying out the Deputy’s instructions that they moved like men in a slow-motion film. Finally, the Deputy’s patience snapped. He scolded them for their slowness and, like soldiers everywhere, marvelling at an officer’s cussedness, completed the task in their own time. Once loaded, the cortege moved off towards the hospital, the Deputy following on behind, wondering how best to react to this totally unexpected situation. The camp doctor lived out but the senior medical orderly could tell if there was so grave an emergency that the medical officer would have to be sent for. If the two men were really seriously ill, the specialists coming from Hanoi in the morning would be of great, and possibly life-saving, value. What had happened to these two could, he fretted, also happen to him.
They reached the hospital complex. ‘Stretcher bearers, put your load down carefully and you,’ the Deputy detailed one of the soldiers, ‘go and fetch the duty medical orderly.’
‘What a time you’ve taken,’ remonstrated the Deputy when the duty medical orderly eventually appeared. ‘Listen to me. I found the two comrades unconscious and immediately had them brought in. You now take charge of them.’
No one had thought to start the generator so there was no electricity. Hurricane lamps and torches gave enough light to get the two unconscious men into bed, in separate rooms. The orderly checked the other patient and found him fast asleep, presumably not having been awoken either by the stretcher bearers or the commotion of the comcen burning.
The blaze was seen for many miles around, reddening the night sky spectacularly. Those units that saw it tried to find out where it was and by the process of elimination, presumed it was in or near Ban Ban camp. However, even then that was not certain as they could get no response from their land line. Duty men reasoned that, as nothing came from Ban Ban, the fire was not there so why report it higher?
Major Vong looked at his watch. Its luminous hands pointed to ten past ten. They were not far from where they had cached the stretcher. Mana was faltering and in distress. He had been able to walk reasonably quickly for the first short distance but, although his gag had been loosened, he was being too slow. He would have to be carried. Vong could not risk ungagging him completely until they were away from local, so sensitive, habitations. A hornets’ nest had been stirred and maybe long before daylight, despite the precautions he had taken, search parties would be out in force. Speed was vital. They reached the cache. The stretcher was there. Vong breathed a long sigh of relief. The group moved off the road, prepared the stretcher and put Mana on it, tying him securely. So far he had not spoken, nor had he tried to resist them. They continued on their way. Vong reckoned they should meet the escort within the hour, certainly well this side of where he had left them. Their orders had been explicit: no move if no blaze was seen. If a blaze was seen, move towards the camp, either until meeting up with Vong’s group or until the road junction was reached. If they got that far, to wait until 3 a.m. then return to their original hiding place if nobody turned up.
With four men taking it in turns to carry the stretcher, Vong moved ahead, keeping in earshot but sufficiently distant to take what evasive action might be needed, depending on whom he met. He felt elated. This is what he enjoyed: challenge, danger and the thrill of the illegal, especially when directed against his enemies.
There was a scuff in front of him. He stiffened momentarily, then made a noise like a young water buffalo heifer. It was answered in kind, twice. Two more similar grunts from Vong confirmed their recognition.
‘Anything to report? All well?’
‘Yes. Hell of a blaze but it didn’t last for long. No reaction from the locals but I didn’t expect any. What now?’
Vong quickly and quietly gave his orders. ‘Take Mana’s gag off. All of you take the sacking from your pack and tie it round your shoes. We will move on up the road until short of the first fall-back position. Get ready now.’ A few minutes later, he said, ‘Off we go, at best quiet speed.’
By midnight they had reached the place Vong had pre-selected. A small track led off west. This the escort group would take. Another, larger track, led off east, to a village. ‘Take the stretcher over there,’ said Vong, pointing west to a clump of tress visible in the moonlight. ‘Undo Mana and give him some water. Let him flex his muscles, have a pee, regain his circulation but no noise, no noise whatsoever.’
Once under the trees, with shielded torches, the next part of Vong’s plan was revealed. Turning to the escort commander, he said, ‘You are responsible for taking Mana to our next fall-back position. You should get there by first light. Once there, hide up, taking defensive precautions. You should be safe but be prepared to bug out in an emergency. If you have to leave in a hurry, try and move back to our second night camp. Personally, I don’t think it will come to that and anyway, I hope to join you before then. Don’t forget, he,’ pointing to Mana with his foot, ‘is your overriding priority and concern. Here’s a sleeping pill for him. Make him swallow it with some water. It’ll keep him quiet so there’ll be no need to put that gag back on but keep it handy just in case. You’ll obviously have to carry him but you’d have to with or without him sleeping.’ He continued his briefing. ‘I will stay behind for a bit longer with three of my squad to lay a false trail. My fourth man, my tame executioner, will stay with you and kill Mana rather than letting the Viets recapture him. I and the three men I am taking with me will take the sacking off our shoes. You others keep it on.’ Vong then inspected their shoes for wrapping and torches to see that they had either some of the green paper he had earlier issued or a thin leaf. He glanced at his watch again. ‘I’ll try and catch up with you as soon I can. Hopefully by dawn. Right. Any last questions? No? Then good luck to you. Move no later than in five minutes.’
As soon as they had gone, Vong said, ‘Now for our false trail. Follow me. Only talk when spoken to. Take the green paper out of your torches first.’
They crossed over the road and walked up the track towards the village, flashing their torches and making no attempt at walking silently. Dogs started barking. Vong raised his voice and cursed them loudly, shining his torch at the first house they saw. It obviously belonged to a poor man as it was not built on stilts. He led his men up to it and knocked loudly on the door. ‘Open up. Open up, in the name of the Party. We are on urgent business. Hurry and open up!’
There was a noise inside but no one opened the door. Vong knocked again, this time with a stick he had picked up. ‘Don’t worry. I am from Ban Ban camp. This is an emergency. Open up, open up, immediately.’
At last a tremulous voice answered from within. ‘How do I know you’re not bandits? You might be bandits. I’m afraid.’
‘Fools,’ spat Vong. ‘Look outside. I’ll show you who we are,’ and he shone his torch at the other men. The door then opened. An elderly man stood there, obviously terrified.
‘Don’t be afraid, Granddad. Just take me to the Chau Ban, the headman. Go and put some more clothes on. Quickly!’
The man disappeared and, a short while later, reappeared, dressed. ‘Follow me, please.’
They walked back down the path, reached the road and turned left, southwards, in the direction of Ban Ban. Some distance down the road, they again turned up a track and soon reached some more houses. The villager pointed out one larger than the rest that loomed up in front of them. ‘That is it. The Chao Ban lives here. May I go now? I’ve done enough for you, haven’t I?’
‘No! Wait.’ Vong then raised his voice and called loudly, ‘O-é, Chao Ban. Wake up and come down. I am a cadre from Ban Ban. I want help urgently.’
A torch shone from above and a voice demanded, ‘What’s the trouble? Who are you? What do you want at this time of night?’
In answer, Vong shone his torch on himself and his men. ‘Come down and I’ll tell you. Hurry please. This is an emergency.’
The Chao Ban quickly dressed and came down. He introduced himself and asked how he could help the Comrade Commissar.
‘Did you see the fire lighting up the sky earlier on tonight?’ The Chao Ban nodded. ‘It was in the camp and is the work, so far as we can tell, of a demented man who has probably run away. I have a search party up the road and I’m convinced that the man has not come as far as this. He is reputed to be heading for Sam Neua, not that anyone knows for certain, but that’s why I’m here so soon. I think he’ll be found near the camp when it’s light. What I’m going to do is to ask you to put out a roadblock, now, and keep it going till noon and then, if there hasn’t been any contact, raise it. After that come down to us at Ban Ban camp and report your negative result.’ Vong paused. ‘No, sorry. I think that’s probably unnecessary. They’ll be up here in their own good time. Now, there is one more point. Come over here, please. It’s confidential.’ He led the Headman out of earshot of the others and continued, most earnestly, ‘This man is a true Lao patriot and somehow he’s offended the “elder brothers”. You understand? I’m sure you do. I’m on his side. I want to save him and I don’t want the “elder brothers” to get their hands on him. To this end, please, when other comrades come, be circumspect. If the “elder brothers” know I’ve told you about this, it will go badly against me although,’ with a bitter laugh, ‘I’m as much as, if not more of, a Lao patriot than are many others, especially them. So, these aren’t orders, only a patriotic comrade’s request to a man of responsibility. You understand my dilemma? I now move east, see if the man’s in any of those villages I can get to in the next few hours. I want to get back to Ban Ban by dawn before “elder brother” discovers I’ve been on this mission. To this end, my request is twofold: one, the road block to be put out and maintained on your own initiative because you saw the fire; and second, please, please don’t mention my search party. Can you manage that?’
‘Yes, I can,’ said the Chao Ban, suitably impressed. ‘I understand entirely. I wish there were more like you. Don’t be afraid. I’d like to know you better. Can we meet again after this has died down?’
‘Yes, I’m sure we can. Let’s leave names out of this, shall we? What is not known cannot be divulged. In this day and age that’s a safe motto. Goodbye and a thousand thanks. I must hurry. For your information, I’m going back down the road, see that this man, my guide, gets back safely, move off east, then south from there.’ He put out his hand, shook the other’s and, together, joined the waiting man.
‘Goodbye,’ said the Chao Ban. ‘Go safely. I’ll keep this man here and give him orders for his part of the village. There’s no need for you to escort him back to his house. Thanks for the offer.’
‘Goodbye and again thank you,’ said Vong and, followed by his men, vanished into the night. A little later Vong said, ‘Put the green paper back into your torch and bind your feet. If we’re lucky we’ll pick up the others well before dawn.’
They moved swiftly and quietly westward.
The fire in the camp earlier on in the night scared many of the inmates. So suddenly had the comcen burnt down and so intense was the blaze that those who did gather at the spot could do nothing about it. The Guard Commander, suddenly realising that the guardroom was unmanned, cursed and sent two men back there. The Deputy eventually returned to the burnt shell of the comcen and sent the mawkish onlookers away. There was nothing that anyone could do.
Next morning, one of the first people to be about her duty was the Lao nurse who looked after Mana. She had been frightened stiff the previous night, not so much by the unexpected arrival of the inspecting doctors’ team but why then she could not fathom. but rather by that terrible blaze. She had seen it from her window. But the doctors obviously had not needed her. It had not been her turn for duty so when the Deputy had brought the CO and the Political Commissar along, overcome by the smoke of the fire, no doubt, and the Senior Medical Orderly, who was on duty, had looked after them. She had stayed in her room and as there had been no more activity, she had gone to sleep, though not very quickly.
Now, slightly guiltily, she went into the little annex to see how her man, as she referred to Mana privately, had survived the night. He had seemed, if anything, more withdrawn than normal when she had left him. Maybe he would have got out of bed the right side this morning. She knocked on the door. No response. She tried again and, getting no answer, went inside, calling him endearingly and softly. He lay in bed, face turned to the wall, not moving. Under the mosquito net, he had pulled the sheet almost over his face. She stared at him, fascinated, puzzled and a bit scared. She strained her ears and heard his regular breathing. Shall I wake him or let him sleep on? she mused. She decided to go and see the senior medic in the duty room.
The senior medic stood up as she entered and, before she could open her mouth, he said, ‘Come with me, Comrade. We’ve got to see the two men who came in last night, the Political Commissar and the CO. Brought in, I should say. Can’t think what hit them unless it was the smoke from that fire. Now, wasn’t that dreadful? Can’t think how it happened. Something to do with the batteries, I expect,’ he said vaguely. ‘Did you go and watch it, Comrade? I certainly didn’t see you there.’ She shook her head but he was in front of her so did not see her gesture. He took her silence as her answer that she had not gone to see the fire. ‘Quite right. Can’t have everybody rubbernecking, can we? Here we are. Wouldn’t be surprised if the two bosses hadn’t had a better night than either of us or in their own beds. Always did think how damp it was over there by the river. Bad for ageing bones.’
The garrulous man and silent woman went into the quarantine block. It was simply designed, two rooms left and two right of the entrance, with one toilet and shower.
They knocked on the first door and, having had no answer, pushed it open. They saw the CO, lying on his back, fast asleep. The senior medic cleared his throat noisily then, with no sign of the sleeping man stirring, coughed even louder. A puzzled look came over his usually bland face. He approached the bed, stared hard at the recumbent figure, leant over him and shook him, tentatively at first, then more vigorously. There was no reaction whatsoever. The CO was still just as limply unconscious as he had been when brought in.
‘I don’t like this one little bit,’ muttered the senior medic. ‘Not one little bit.’
He bent down and sniffed the sleeping man’s breath. He straightened up and made a grimace. ‘If I didn’t know how impossible it would be, I’d say he’s been drugged. No, I don’t like this one little bit.’ A cold fear gripped him as he realised that maybe he should have sent for the doctor straightaway or at least examined the CO during the night. ‘Come, Comrade,’ he said, trying to keep his voice steady, ‘Let us see how the other patient is.’
The other man was a carbon copy of the first. Little beads of sweat broke out on the senior medic’s forehead. The nurse looked at him apprehensively. He opened his mouth, closed it, cleared his throat. ‘Some terrible jinx is on us, Comrade, and I cannot understand it. Let us go and see if Mana is ready for his inspection.’
The two entered the third room, went up to the bed, pulled away the mosquito net, horrified at Mana’s inertness. They gently took the sheet from his face and stared down, unnerved at the sight of somebody neither of them recognised. He, too, was out cold. It was the nurse’s turn to open then close her mouth in silent agony.
‘Who is this?’ queried the senior medic in an odd, strangled tone of voice. ‘When did he come here? Why wasn’t I told? Did you put Mana in the next room?’ He turned on the nurse with a spurt of hope. ‘Maybe he went next door himself. Go and see how he is.’
The nurse made slowly for the door, as though her feet were made of lead. The senior medic watched her as she left the room and saw her turn the handle of the fourth and last door of the quarantine block. He saw her put her hand up to her mouth in horror, shut the door with a bang and almost totter back to him. A cold worm of fear turned in his belly.
‘No trouble is there?’ he called out, not believing his own optimistic tone of voice.
‘The room’s empty. No one has been in it. Oh, what can have happened?’ and she started to weep, covering her face in her hands as she stood there.
The senior medic sat down on a chair to steady himself. The three unconscious men were three problems, the stranger was an enigma, while no Mana was a disaster.
Early that Friday morning, the Deputy felt distinctly perturbed: the fire and his two bosses were playing on his conscious mind in the same way as they had plagued his dreams as he slept, shallowly and fitfully. He fervently hoped that they were now well on the way to recovery if not already completely better from whatever it was that had struck them. Food poisoning, he presumed, as he dressed. He had half convinced himself that matters would be back to normal by the time he was ready to leave his quarter. His bosses would want to know about the fire just as soon as possible. On his way to hospital he glumly reviewed the blackened remains of the comcen and whatever had been inside: the manual telephone exchange and every single bit of kit irrevocably damaged and completely unsalvageable. He shook his head at the thought of the reports and inquiries it would result in. The thought had worried him greatly for, although responsibility of the camp was not his, he was responsible to his bosses for it. While his future did not look so rosy, it could not be as black as that charred mess. Sunk in gloom, he moved over to the hospital, calling in at the duty room where he was told that the senior medic was visiting the patients. The Deputy felt he ought to go and see for himself how the others were and, on reaching the isolation ward, saw the senior medic sitting on a chair with his head in his hands, the nurse standing nearby with her head in her hands, weeping softly. It was a macabre scene and it filled him with alarm.
‘Good morning, Comrade Senior Medical Orderly and Comrade Nurse,’ he said with exaggerated politeness. ‘I hope I’m not intruding.’
The senior medic lifted his head, saw who was addressing him, and stood up. ‘Good morning, Comrade Deputy. I was on my way to report to you but, not being quite sure in which order my report should be given, I was considering the problem.’
‘Problem? Problem? I’m not a doctor so why come to me? Nurse, stop crying.’
‘It will concern you, be you a doctor or no. The CO and the Political Commissar are as unconscious as when they were brought in last night, there is an unconscious stranger in Mana’s bed and, apart from that, Comrade Mana has vanished. That is why it concerns you, Comrade Deputy.’
There was an arid silence while the Deputy assimilated this startling and totally unexpected news. The senior medic prepared himself the better to ward off the Deputy’s wrath, while the girl was too cowed to say anything coherent.
‘Well, what have you done about it and what will you do about it? Whatever else you do, you can’t do nothing,’ said the Deputy, peevishly, his mind already on the many departmental horrors now even more manifestly waiting for him. The two men looked at each other in veiled hostility, both wondering how they could shift as much blame as possible onto the other.
‘At least we will have our own doctor with us soon, not to mention the two specialists. I can go and warn our doctor. If you let me have use of a vehicle, I can get to his house probably before he goes to the airstrip to meet the plane,’ said the senior medic.
There were two vehicles in the camp. The Deputy felt he needed one to go and report the burnt-out comcen to the nearest unit with radio contact with higher formation. The PL units along Route 61 did not have radio and the NVA units, which did, were not on any of the recently constructed feeder roads. This meant sending out a couple of runners some of the way by vehicle and then their hoofing it.
‘Did the Comrade Doctor say he was coming here before the specialists arrived or that he’d meet them on the airstrip?’
‘He said he’d go to the airstrip and bring them in. I was to get the patient ready. That was meant to ensure he hadn’t gone walkabout.’
The Deputy mulled this over. ‘Right. You have a search of the camp and see where Mana has gone. One vehicle will go to the airstrip when confirmation of take-off is received. I’ll go and arrange for someone to go and report the loss of the communication centre in the other one. You’d better hurry as the plane will leave as soon as the mist clears. Mana can’t be far away.’
‘Fine, Comrade Deputy.’ The senior medic could see that the orders to go and fetch the doctors were in the process of becoming snarled up. ‘Please will you confirm exactly what has been done for the visitors’ transport.’
The Deputy tried to control his temper. ‘Go and do what I have told you, Comrade. I will do what needs to be done about the visitors being met.’
The senior medic shrugged his shoulders and the Deputy, wanting to ensure that Mana was in camp, went to the guardroom instead of going directly to the vehicle park. He called the Guard Commander who came running outside. ‘Comrade, have you seen Comrade Mana this morning?’
‘No, Comrade Deputy. He most certainly hasn’t been out of the camp since we’ve been on duty and that is since 4 o’clock last evening.’
Greatly relieved that at last there was a break in the run of bad luck, the Deputy relaxed a little. ‘Then, in that case, he must be in the camp somewhere. If he does happen to try and leave, turn him back. The doctors have got to look at him. They are due in any time after 9 o’clock.’
The Guard Commander looked blankly at his Deputy Commander. ‘The doctors due at 9 o’clock did you say, Comrade?’ he asked disbelievingly.
The brief ray of bonhomie disappeared as the Deputy’s temper snapped. ‘Yes, fool. Didn’t you hear what I said? I will repeat myself slowly so that there can be no mistake this time,’ he continued, exaggerating the syllable content of each word. ‘They, the doc-tors, are due an-y time af-ter 9 o’clock this morn-ing.’
The Guard Commander shuffled his feet uneasily. ‘Then there will be two sets of doctors in the camp, Comrade?’ he asked ingenuously.
The Deputy stared harshly as the Guard Commander, thinking, with a certain amount of relish, of what re-education this man needed. ‘If you’re trying to be funny and count our own doctor separately, the answer is “yes”. Does this answer your question?’ he asked sarcastically.
The Guard Commander was not to be deflated. ‘In that case, Comrade, there will be three sets of doctors.’
The Deputy lost control of himself and rudely upbraided the Guard Commander, using most intemperate language, for his stupidity, misplaced sense of humour and a general lack of discipline. Finishing his diatribe by calling the Guard Commander a lot of uncomradely names, the Deputy took a grip of himself and asked, with withering scorn, whether he had gone off his rocker, was trying to be funny or what? Would the Comrade Guard Commander explain himself exactly and fully?
The Guard Commander resolutely stood his ground, realising that, somehow or other, the Deputy had not been told of the doctors’ change of programme and that the visitors had been welcomed by the CO and the Political Commissar. However, he was not in the mood for long explanations so he stolidly said, ‘Since the doctors and their team arrived after dark last night, have not yet left the camp and so are still here, I am only trying to confirm whether this is, if fact, yet another lot of doctors coming this morning.’
He could have said a lot more but prudence forbade it.
The Deputy was completely taken aback by this bolt from the blue. ‘Wh … wh … what do you mean?’ he stammered, trying to collect his thoughts but with little success. ‘I d … d … don’t understand you. Ex … explain yourself.’
‘The group of six men whom we expected this morning showed up last night after dark. I had the CO and the Political Commissar fetched and they came here, welcomed the visitors and took them away.’
The Deputy, utterly deflated, stood there as he digested this shattering piece of news. His own sleeping accommodation was not in the senior officers’ compound, a bone of contention, but set back some distance away. It was most unlikely that he would have heard anything even had it been noisier than was the case. He turned and made his way to the visitors’ quarters. Finding no trace of anyone, he was at a complete loss to know who or what to believe. How could the Guard Commander say such a thing? At least he would find Mana who had, for some unknown reason, hidden himself. He’d find him, even if it took till dusk. With a single-mindedness only found in the most pig-headed, most zealous or most stupid of men, trusting no one but himself, off he went, unmindful of everything else. While he was in the underground air-raid shelter a member of the roving security picket pulled the open door shut and wedged it tight so it would not open of itself again, so trapping the hapless Deputy.
The radio operators in Sam Neua and attached to Office 95 were puzzled by Ban Ban camp’s radio silence. Communications were a problem, it was generally accepted, but normally contact by radio or land line was made at 0800 hours daily. The network was complicated by the NVA units having their own net conventionally linking units of lower formation with higher formation and on up to Army Command in Hanoi. It was therefore only later in the morning that units near Ban Ban, having reported a major fire the previous night and none having admitted to it being in their location, that a suspicious Duty Officer in Army HQ contacted Sam Neua on another net. Sam Neua contacted Office 95 and it was then presumed that the fire had taken place in Ban Ban camp. By that time, the visitors’ AN-2 on loan from Aeroflot had left the strip at Office 95. A high-ranking group that included Comrade Nga Sô Lựự, who was especially interested in the outcome of their mission, had seen the plane off.
The Ban Ban airstrip was an hour’s walk from the camp doctor’s house. It was a fine morning, Friday 15 March, and the doctor felt he would like some exercise. As he could also visit a case of his own on the way, he set off earlier than he would otherwise have done. His route took him over the road that had, unusually, a roadblock with unarmed villagers manning it. Intrigued, he asked why and received a garbled reply that there had been a fire somewhere in the direction of the camp and the Chao Ban had ordered it just in case it was arson and the Comrades wanted any local screening to be done. Rather far-fetched, thought the doctor who kept away from the political aspect of life as much as it was possible under normal circumstances. His remarks to that effect were echoed by the men on the roadblock. The doctor, a popular figure in the neighbourhood, got a cheery smile as he left and soon put the incident out of his mind and, in due course, having had a session with the patient, reached the airstrip.
He had faith that the senior medic would have Mana ready and he also felt that the visiting doctors would be favourably impressed by his role of ‘travelling doctor’. He had tried his best with Mana. The nurse was a good girl and her reports, although disappointing clinically, were based on astute observation and considerable personal involvement: shock, of love or the opposite, she had said. He himself merely had a watching brief, so to speak, on Mana. He found it hard to understand such high-level interest but he was wise enough not to poke his nose into non-medical business. He settled down to await the plane’s arrival.
The senior medic was having an argument with the Comrade in charge of the two vehicles. The Deputy’ orders were that one vehicle was to take a squad as close to the nearest “elder brother” unit to make a report of last night’s damage and the other was on stand-by to go to the airstrip to meet the Hanoi delegates. ‘How is it?’ demanded the harassed functionary, ‘that the Comrade Senior Medical Assistant needs yet a third and nonexistent vehicle to go and see the doctor? Hasn’t the Comrade got a bicycle like the doctor has?’
‘If there is no communication with the outside world,’ countered a nettled senior medic, ‘how do you think you can tell when your stand-by vehicle is needed?’
This blindingly obvious point had been overlooked by the transport functionary and the Deputy who was the only person who could resolve such a thorny problem. Before the man in charge of the vehicles could go and clear up this matter for the senior medic, he had to ensure that the squad going to report the fire and the driver had been briefed on where to go and how long they could stay away from camp. Once that was over and done with, the senior medic and the ‘transport administrator’, as he liked to be called when standing on his dignity, could go in search of the Deputy.
Once that vehicle was on its way, the two men went to the Deputy’s office, then his quarter, but met with no success in either place. They went round the camp, drawing a blank. ‘Let us go and ask the sentry on the gate and see if he has left the camp,’ one of them suggested, so off they went to the guardroom.
The sentry said, no, the Comrade Deputy had not left the camp during his stint but he’d call the Guard Commander, which he obligingly did. The Guard Commander shook his head. ‘I don’t know what’s happening around here. One mighty jinx! First the Deputy comes and questions me about Comrade Mana. Then he balls me out because I tell him the doctors arrived last night and now …’
The senior medic interrupted him. ‘Say that again. The doctors came last night, did you say? How many of them, what time and when did they leave?’
The Guard Commander patiently explained to the two unbelieving men exactly what he knew, finishing up with the statement that the doctors had not left the camp and if the two men did not believe him, why, for Lenin’s sake, didn’t they clear the matter with the CO and the Political Commissar instead of worrying him?
This information surprised the senior medic more than the other man who merely said that since the doctors had arrived, there was no need to send any transport to meet them and, certainly, until he was specifically ordered by the CO, the Political Commissar or the Deputy, he would not be able to allow the senior medic to take that one remaining vehicle.
There was nothing that the senior medic could do other than start a dreary trudge to the camp doctor’s house. He knew that there was no bicycle he could borrow.
The AN-2 circled the Ban Ban airstrip and made a perfect landing. The Cuban pilot cut the engine and a crew man opened the door and put the small steps ready for the group of six in blue uniform to clamber down. A strange bunch, the pilot thought to himself; two elderly doctors. Look out of place here – more at home in a hospital.. The other four look different–they had all looked the same when I first arrived in Hanoi from Havana – two of them strong-arm merchants if ever there were any and the other couple have that stamp associated with inquisitors. A strange bunch indeed. Ah well, not my job to bother who they are.
The camp doctor went forward to greet them. ‘Good morning, Comrades. Welcome to Ban Ban. I am the camp doctor and have walked across from my village clinic. The two senior comrades will be here to meet you directly. We will then go to the camp. My Senior Medical Assistant, a devoted comrade, has Comrade Mana Varamit happily waiting for your arrival.’
The men from Hanoi introduced themselves to the camp doctor and then collected their individual baggage from the grass where the crew man had put it, easing their cramped legs. The crew joined them. Cigarettes were offered and lit. Glances were shot at watches with that careless ease that is a busy man’s prerogative.
‘You think the camp got our message about a slightly earlier than forecast arrival? The quicker we get there, the quicker we can start work.’
‘I am sure they did, Comrade. Our communications centre is as efficient as any other. They’ll have been alerted and orders for the vehicle to pick you up will, doubtless, already have been given. As soon as we get to the camp, we’ll send a message telling higher formation of your safe arrival.’
‘The pilot will have already reported a safe landing,’ said the senior doctor, a trifle huffily, once more looking at his watch, rather more obviously this time.
The crew finished their cigarettes. The Cuban pilot looked at his watch and announced it was time he should be getting back for his next mission. ‘Tomorrow morning at about the same time, Comrades,’ he said in passable French. ‘Until then, farewell and good luck.’
The crew boarded the aircraft and the engine soon crackled into life. Ban Ban airstrip was just that and nothing else; no tower, no ground staff, no facilities. When the plane had taken off and the noise of its engine had disappeared, bird song and a dog barking made the emptiness of the place even more noticeable.
‘No transport. Can’t think what has happened. Don’t suppose there has been anything worse than a puncture on the way. I propose, Comrades, that not to waste any more of you valuable time than necessary, we start walking. I’m sure we’ll meet up with the camp vehicle in a minute or so,’ said a worried camp doctor, trying not to sound so. ‘It’s still quite cool.’
This suggestion was debated and reluctantly accepted. None of them wanted to risk leaving any of their baggage behind so, carrying it as best they could, they set off down the road towards Ban Ban. It was an angry and sweaty group of men who, two hours later, saw the camp entrance in front of them.
At the gate, the camp doctor, not for the first time, apologised profusely for the perplexing and embarrassing absence of any vehicle. The sentry, recognising the camp doctor, entered the newcomers’ name in the registry and let them into the camp. Since no one asked the Guard Commander about the lack of transport or the whereabouts of the senior staff, he said nothing. ‘Let us go straight away to the mess compound, find your accommodation, dump the kit and have some refreshment,’ suggested the camp doctor.
They were met by an orderly who took them and showed them their rooms. ‘While you are getting yourselves ready, I’ll go and tell them we’ve arrived,’ said the camp doctor, trying to sound happier than he felt. ‘If you would like to wait for us in that building over there,’ he pointed out the communal mess building, ‘I’ll be back with the Commanding Officer and the Political Commissar.’
He peeked into their sleeping quarters, not really expecting to find them there and went on to their offices. No one there, either. No one knew where they were. The camp doctor was dismayed. I’ll pop over and see if they’re with Mana, he thought, as he hurried over to the hospital. He reached the duty room and saw the nurse. One look at her face and his heart sank. Been crying, he saw. Moony about Mana? Outwardly he tried to appear calm but inwardly he was in turmoil. ‘Where is Comrade Senior Medical Assistant?’ he asked.
‘Comrade Doctor. I don’t know. I believe he went to fetch you but, since the fire last night, everything has gone wrong,’ and, unable to control herself any longer, she burst into floods of tears.
‘Fire? What fire?’ He then remembered the roadblock. ‘What was the fire to do with us? Really, Comrade, control yourself. It can’t be that bad.’
She tried to muffle her sobs but was only partially successful. Her words came flooding out like an uncontrollable torrent, each convulsive rush bringing worse and worse news: ‘The Comrade Commanding Officer and the Comrade Political Commissar … both in hospital … still unconscious …f ire burnt down the comcen … Deputy missing … Mana Varamit missing … stranger in his bed …’
A cold hand gripped the camp doctor’s heart. Indeed, something had gone terribly, terribly wrong. He felt he had to know the worst. He pushed past her, asking her where the two officials had been put. The first room held the CO. He leant over him. Regular breathing, lips slightly dry, one day’s growth of stubble on his chin. He felt his pulse: a touch slow. He lifted an eyelid. Nothing untoward. He sniffed his breath. Certainly garlic, a trace, perhaps, of coffee. Something else, but what? He went into the next room and performed the same routine on the Political Commissar. He then went into the last room and, on reaching the bed, stared hard and long at the sleeping figure before he examined him. He stood up and unconsciously shook his head. Yes, things were about as wrong as they ever could be – or ever had been. He turned to the nurse and posed a question.
‘Have you any idea who this man is, how and when he came here?’ His voice hardly sounded like his own.
‘He was not here last night.’ He had to strain to hear what she said. ‘Mana was here last night. This morning Mana was not here. He,’ indicating the sleeping man with her head, ‘was.’
Curtly he told her to stay around and returned to the mess compound by way of the burnt-down comcen. No wonder no message of an earlier arrival. What on earth had caused such chaos? He forced his unwilling footsteps back to the mess room and went inside. They had finished a light meal and had coffee cups in front of them. He had been longer than he had realised. They looked up as he came in, impatient and fretful, and saw, from his expression, that something was amiss, more amiss than no transport and no welcome. He stood in front of them, hanging his head slightly and, in a confessional monotone, told them what he had just found out.
‘Comrades, please heed what I have to say before deciding your next step. I can explain, but only in part, some of what seems to be an inexplicable disaster. First, the two senior comrades, the Commanding Officer and the Political Commissar, are both lying unconscious in hospital.’ There was a quick intake of breath from the visitors who were paying him every attention. ‘They have been, so it seems, there since last night. I was not called and that is why they were not at the airstrip to meet you. Second, a stranger, similarly unconscious, is lying in Mana’s bed. I deduced no specific reason for this state of affairs from my cursory inspection. Third, Mana is missing. Fourth, the communication centre has been burnt to the ground. Fifth, the Deputy is missing. He was last seen earlier on this morning.’
There was a horrified hush as the audience grappled with the enormity of the situation. In the silence a thin voice, far away and faint, was heard in hoarse ululation. It was so faint that no one recognised it as human.
By dawn on the morning of 15 March, Major Vong caught up with the escort group. He came across them, as ordered, at RV 1, a short way from the road trace that would lead them north, if he decided to follow it, before reaching the comparative safety of the jungle area to the south of Bouam Long. Mana’s escorts were in the clump of trees they had rested under on the way down. They looked tired. Mana was asleep on the stretcher. Vong looked disdainfully at the escort and, saying nothing, went and sniffed their breath, one at a time. He yanked one man up to a standing position by his hair and slapped his face hard. The man screamed and glowered back, hurt and mystified. He could see that Vong was furious.
‘I could have found this hiding place by the smell of your cigarette smoke. It’s not the normal local stuff but the same as what the Viets smoke. You must have got a packet from when you visited your relatives. What I can smell, so can our enemies – and they can tell the difference so work out where the smoker came from. Only your breath stinks of tobacco. I had several whiffs of it on the way up.’ He let go of the man who sat down, rubbing his head, muttering. He was wrong, and he knew it. So did the others.
The scream had woken Mana. Vong saw him lick his lips and, taking his water bottle, went to him and gave him a drink.
‘How are you? Not too sore-footed, I hope. We could never have saved you any other way. You’ll be completely safe soon. We still have a long way to go but we’ll look after you. We had to bug out in a hurry. That’s why your clothes are strange. There’s no need to be scared of any of us.’
The kind, reassuring words soothed Mana who answered in a tone of voice that, to the listening men, sounded perfectly normal. ‘Tell me what has happened.’ He waved his hand at the group and his clothes. ‘I can’t remember much. I had a dreadful nightmare. I tried to wake up and thought I had. You know that sort of dream, don’t you? Think you’re awake from a dream but really you’ve gone into another dream. I’m awake now,’ and he smiled.
‘Can you remember any of your dream?’ Vong asked casually, sitting down beside him.
Mana rucked his brow and looked speculatively at Vong. ‘If I didn’t know you were real and sitting beside me, I’d swear I saw you.’ He laughed apologetically. ‘I saw someone else who funnily enough is familiar. Not here, by any chance, is he?’ He looked around, grinning slightly shamefacedly as though he had made a bad joke. ‘Gosh, but my mouth feels like the proverbial sawdust. No, he’s not here. Shame. I’d like to have met him in real life. Wait.’ Again he puckered his brow. ‘I saw, wait … I saw … I’ve got it,’ and he almost shouted with relief. ‘Tâ Tran Quán. It was Tâ, wasn’t it? Do say “yes”,’ he implored. He had got up from the stretcher, a rapturous look on his face. ‘I’ve got it at last,’ he said to their surprise. ‘I’ve got it at last. I’m Mana Varamit and there were four others.’ He beamed expansively, looking at his escort. ‘Now I’ve reached you, it’s come back to me. You have come to take me to Sam Neua, haven’t you? Sent me to Skyline Ridge as I’ve got to give my report about the Four Rings.’
They searched for some water to cook their meal. The river running along the other side of the trace and the jungle fringe beyond it made them move over the trace into the shade where they would have kindling as well as shielding any smoke their fire made. Rice, the sticky kind so beloved of all Lao and Thai, and some dried meat heavily impregnated with curry powder, was what they cooked. As they washed up, they heard the sound of an aeroplane flying from north to south. Vong listened attentively and moved to a spot where he could see it. An AN-2, he saw, but was unable to pick out whether it carried USSR or LPF markings as the sun was in his eyes. He did notice, however, that it was descending. As far as he remembered, Ban Ban was the only strip in the area that comfortably took the AN-2. He rejoined the group and asked the two men who knew the area well whether an AN-2 was a common occurrence. Only one man bothered to answer. No, they didn’t often fly this way but when they did they normally carried important people. The other man did not answer as he was still upset by having his hair pulled and his face slapped, both publicly. One answer was good enough as Vong had, by this time, presumed that the passengers were the doctors mentioned by the two scouts, but he kept his counsel. He wondered what range and speed of flight he could expect from the hornets whose nest he had so recently stirred up.
He turned back to Mana. ‘Comrade Mana. I owe you an apology for the rough handling you have received.’ He looked most grave. ‘You have been the target of a filthy imperialist kidnap plot. I cannot explain now, much as I’d like to, and as indeed I will, because your presence is urgently needed in Sam Neua. We had to bring you out this way otherwise I can’t think what would have happened to you. As it is, we are well on the way to finding out who is responsible for the frantic act of sabotage. The reason why Sam Neua has ordered us to do things in this fashion is not fully understood but, on the way, we are going to meet the traitorous lackeys who wanted to stop our report from reaching Sam Neua and the Politburo. They will in turn, be ambushed and, being caught red-handed, they will not fail to divulge who the other traitors are.’ Mana Varamit nodded understandingly. ‘For that reason we must press on, quickly, cautiously and cleverly. Are you ready?’
The six visitors were dumbfounded. The magnitude and suddenness of such a situation utterly shocked them. The senior doctor recovered first.
‘Take me to the hospital now.’ He got up and made for the door. One of the inquisitors interrupted him.
‘Comrade Doctor. I doubt you want me and my fellow comrades to accompany you under these circumstances. I suggest that I try, we try that is, and find out as best we can just what has been happening. We will most certainly talk to the hospital staff when you let us. It is now a little after 2 o’clock. We have just over four hours of daylight left. Do you agree? Shall we try and meet here at, say, 6 p.m.?’
There was no dissent. They went about their separate ways, the camp doctor taking the two specialist doctors to the hospital. The inquisitors were perfectly capable of finding their own way about – that is why they were inquisitors.
At the hospital, the two specialists took one look at the CO and, as indeed the camp doctor had thought to himself, declared him drugged and in no immediate harm. One asked the camp doctor if there was any Phenobarbitone in the dangerous drugs store and looked serious when the reply was that none had ever yet been issued to the hospital.
They made the same judgement on the Political Commissar. They then came to the unknown man.
‘You say you don’t know who this man is?’
‘No, Comrade, I don’t. I have no idea who he is, who brought him here, how he was found or anything about him. Neither have I any theories.’
A thorough examination was made of the two camp inmates before the third man was looked at in detail and it was during this last examination that they were joined by a dishevelled and tired senior medical orderly. He looked despairingly at the camp doctor, who put his finger to his lips. Only when the two specialists had finished was he invited to explain his case. His audience listened attentively.
‘You say that the Guard Commander reported that the medical team came last night? That their vehicle broke down somewhere up the road and they walked in? What is this nonsense?’ Before the senior medic had time to answer, the senior doctor continued. ‘We’ll have to keep a strict watch on these three and hope they come to before much longer. There’ll be quite a load of us going back tomorrow. If they are still unconscious by, say, last light, we’ll fix up a saline drip in each case.’
He made as to leave the isolation ward, the camp doctor wondering if the allusion to the plane load referred to the patients being evacuated or to his going back under arrest. Halfway to the door, the neurologist turned back, re-entered the CO’s room and turned out the unconscious man’s pockets. A note fluttered out and was seized upon. It was written in Vietnamese on cheap paper. He read it through and whistled. ‘Grief! Listen to this! ‘This man, because of his evil nature, his devotion to a Cause that is also evil, his repression of those who are not evil, is being punished. We, the people of Laos, do not want to be ruled by and ruined by the Vietnamese bully-boys. We, the punishers, are many. You, the tainted, are, regrettably, even more: be warned – “The pitcher goes so often to the well that at last it breaks”.’ It is signed by “A devotee of the rain drop”. What fool’s nonsense it this? Go, Comrade, and see what the Political Commissar has on him.’
There was a replica of that which had already been found. ‘And now, let us even more thoroughly examine the third man, his clothes and his body. We may be able to establish his identity or, at least, see if there are any clues.’
But there was nothing either as spectacular or as vitriolic in this case. Under the pillow were his papers. They showed that his name was Tanh Bên Lòng. ‘Don’t know the name, do you?’
‘No,’ answered his companion, shaking his head. ‘Doesn’t look to be a strong person. Been walking hard. Look at his feet.’
They opened up his clothes. ‘Been wounded, too. Quite badly. Close range. Healed up well. Must have knocked the stuffing out of him. And in the leg!’
They continued their examination. ‘See this? Surely not a mosquito bite? Pajamas too thick for that, and a net. Who jabbed him, I wonder? Blasted body snatchers.’
At the end, they put his arms and legs back into normal positions. ‘That’s a strange tattoo mark,’ one of them observed, looking at the inside of the little finger of the man’s right hand. ‘Looks like the roman numeral 9.’
After his meal halt, Vong debated whether to lie up there and then or continue with daylight movement. He had, in any case, ordered them to relax for half an hour after the meal and to freshen up in the river. As they were relaxing, he again heard the engine of the returning AN-2. That cleared his mind: he calculated that, given luck, he had slightly more than a head start on the inevitable search parties but he could not count on more than four hours of daylight walking in safety up the road trace, immeasurably quicker than walking through secondary or primary jungle. Were they to meet anybody or even a unit patrolling, he could explain his presence by saying that he was on an extended patrol from Ban Ban, checking on any movement of suspicious people in connection with the mysterious fire. They might get away with such a story for a short while yet but even that was a risk. Much could depend on how effective his false trail and careful movement would prove and how soon ‘the opposition’ took the initiative – both imponderables. He looked at his men and saw they were more tired then he was. He decided, even so, to take the risk, for at least another four hours. ‘On your feet,’ he ordered. ‘Straight up the road trace. Keep alert and leave the talking to me.’
It was just as well for his peace of mind that he did not know the resentment the aggrieved man was feeling.
The AN-2 had to refuel in Sam Neua before proceeding to Office 95 on another mission. Before take off from Ban Ban, the Cuban pilot and his Vietnamese co-pilot briefly chatted about the poor arrangements. Speaking in French, they both agreed how strange it was that nobody had met the delegation. Once they had climbed to their cruising height and levelled off, control was contacted and told that the plane was airborne once more and was in-bound for Sam Neua. A voice crackled back at them, asking if they had either seen any trace of or been told about a fire in the district? Negative. Had Ban Ban contacted them? Not by radio. Control relapsed into momentary silence. ‘There’s something wrong somewhere,’ observed the Cuban but as the man on the strip who had been introduced as the camp doctor had not seemed unduly worried nor said anything, the pilot did not consider it worth his while to return and circle Ban Ban, although he did have enough fuel.
During the afternoon, the inquisitors had solved some of the mysteries but had found new ones. They had examined, with the greatest care, the wreckage of the comcen but had found nothing in the rubble to show any evidence of arson however strong the suspicion; they had cross-examined the guard and had established that a party of six had indeed entered the camp after nightfall and that they were not expected, that the sentry had challenged them, the Guard Commander had made them wait at the gate, an off-duty man had been sent to inform the CO and the Political Commissar with the doctor’s name – and they also understood from the messenger that the two commanders were equally nonplussed – at the doctor’s insistence and that the two leaders had come personally to the guardroom and allowed them in, the doctor wanting to go directly to the hospital; that none of the six nor Mana – everybody knew him – nor the Deputy had been seen to leave the camp; that the living quarters of the Deputy and the Commissar were untampered with and, to corroborate the story of the soldier sent to the mess compound, two unwashed cups of coffee were on the table but nothing else. The coffee would have to be examined to see if it had been doctored. Some coffee beans were found in the back room but they were reckoned as safe. The four men, two inquisitors and two thugs, had made a thorough inspection of the wire surrounding the camp and had found nothing amiss. They had spoken to many people, most of whom had no idea of anything wrong except the previous night’s fire. The man in charge of the vehicles told them what little he knew, which was not much. Before they foregathered in the mess, there was just time to get hold of the Guard Commander for one last point to be clarified. ‘Come with us to the hospital and see if you can recognise the stranger,’ one of the inquisitors had commanded.
‘Stranger?’ queried the Guard Commander, by now thoroughly bemused.
‘Yes, stranger,’ was the rough reply.
The Guard Commander, recognising the stranger as Dr. Tanh Bên Lòng, was really the only positive clue.
That had taken them to early evening. They went over to the mess compound and joined the two specialists who were already there. They held a council of war and agreed that one of the four should stand guard inside the hospital and look at the three men inside every so often. The senior medic would act as runner in the event of consciousness being regained. The news that the third man had come in with the group the previous evening had not been greeted with much joy. His name meant nothing to them. It was further felt that superior authority could well have news of the fire by then but it were better that the camp was sealed off, as best it could be, until either outside help arrived or the AN-2 returned. This disappearance of eight people was a complete mystery.
They contemplated, in silence, the gravity of the situation. A faint noise again assailed their ears. ‘That’s the second or third time I’ve heard that noise,’ remarked one of the inquisitors. ‘I don’t like it. It’s not far off.’
He got up and went outside. He cocked his head. He heard it again, this time a hoarse moan. ‘I’m off to have a look,’ he called and moved off in the direction of the noise and soon saw the old air-raid shelter. He saw steps leading down to a door and, forcing it open, a half-demented man rushed out. The Deputy, crazed by incarceration, maddened by thirst, tortured by fear of punishment for the shambles in the camp, not knowing who had shut him in nor who was trying to plague him yet more and not knowing about the search party, made a terrific lunge at the shadowy figure he saw in the doorway. He took one enormous swipe at his imaginary oppressor, missed, tripped, hit his head a resounding whack and passed out cold as he fell to the ground.
‘Careful,’ called one of the doctors from above. ‘Even this light may damage his eyes.’ The inquisitor fumbled around in the gloom, found the unconscious, limp body and, with it over his shoulder, emerged in the open.
‘Who on earth is this?’ chorused the astonished onlookers.
‘Doesn’t matter who he is. Get him to the hospital immediately,’ ordered the doctor, then, with no trace of irony, said ‘How lucky we’ve still got an empty bed’
Vong was a successful soldier because, although he did not believe in luck, he recognised its existence. To date, they had been lucky and, as far as he could tell, their quick getaway from the camp had been unobserved but the rest of his measures were unknown qualities. He had made no outward sign that Mana’s announcement meant anything to him. Certainly he in no way associated any ring with Tâ Tran Quán. He did remember when Rance came in to see Tâ the first time that the Englishman was wearing some ring or other. Or was he? He normally noticed such things and he was sure there was no ring on his finger when they shook hands – or was there? Not that it mattered here and now, however intriguing the problem was. Men had lost their life for not noticing such details. He was wandering. He jerked his mind back to the present. They needed a rest. It would be unnecessarily rash to bank on a continued avoidance of trouble, certainly after today. The trace they had been following led, eventually, to not far from Bouam Long, on a northwesterly axis. Any troops that were ferried from anywhere else by road would have to go to Ban Ban as there was no other road junction. It was, therefore, still a safe gamble to use the trace that night. He further reckoned that, when his watch showed 4 o’clock, they would find a place to have a rest until after dark. He decided he would get the signaller to open the set and see if he could pick up an NVA frequency. He would then move slightly off net and send a spoof message. He would talk in Vietnamese, pretend he was sender and receiver, and, as his rescue team had not made contact with him yet, he would go south until he met a river junction and wait there. He would add, plaintively, radio silence until tomorrow 1600 hours. It might buy more time. After that, they would prepare a meal, rest and move up the trail all night. But they would have to rest up the next day, Saturday the 16th. ‘4 o’clock. Time for a halt.’ His men sank wearily to the ground, delighted to be able to rest.
Late that Friday afternoon a message reached Office 95 saying that a report had at last been received from Ban Ban, by runner, to a neighbouring battalion to the effect that there had been a fire the night before and that the comcen had been destroyed. There were no other reports of further damage or any casualties. Nga Sô Lựự, eyes sultry and inscrutable, mobilised a team to go down to Ban Ban in the AN-2 on the morrow, Saturday, to investigate. So, until their report was received or until the other party returned, he had to bide his time and rest content.
Content was not a word that could be used about anybody in Ban Ban just then. Not really knowing where to turn, the inquisitors had again interrogated the guard who steadfastly maintained that they had seen no one leave the camp during their spell of duty. They described the six men who came in as best they could but it was after dark and a Lao peasant was not renowned for his powers of description. Afraid to say that there was a period when the gate was unmanned, they were correct in their assertion that they had seen no one leave. Doubtless, when the inquisitors got round to recording individual statements, a discrepancy would be found but they might get away with it. The nurse’s statement was so incoherent as to be virtually useless and the senior medic had not deviated from his original statement, which did not make happy reading. The search party that had been sent out to see if there were any signs of the missing men having left the camp by the river had reported no trace of any untoward movement. It was the consensus that until contact was made with the outside world – the AN-2 on the morrow or the sleeping men awoke – there was not a lot else that could be done.
At 8 o’clock that evening, their patience was rewarded. News was brought that the CO had come round but was still groggy. He had been given water and indicated he wanted a meal. Would the doctors please go and have a look at him. Would they? Whilst looking at the CO, the Political Commissar groaned and stirred. He, too, was groggy and demanded water. And then the third man awoke but his awakening was not immediately noticed. He heard voices next door and he kept his eyes tight shut as he recalled where, Ban Ban camp hospital, and who he was. I am Tâ Tran Quán inside but, until I feel the time ripe, I am Dr. Tanh Bên Lòng. He felt lethargic and opened one eye slightly and saw that he was in a ward with the door open and a blue-uniformed man standing with his back towards him. He twitched his legs. Stiff. Yes, that had been a long walk and I turned myself into Dr. Tanh Bên Lòng on the way. Vong. Dear Vong. Mana. Had they got away safely or had they been caught and were even now being held just to trap him? He would have to be cautious but he had a raging thirst. Ready? Why not? He composed himself, counting ten. He then let out a long sigh, stretched himself and raised himself onto his elbows. The effect was gratifyingly instantaneous. The man on the door wheeled round and came over to him. Tâ was glad to see no hostility in his face, only concern. ‘Comrade, how do you feel? Are you hurt or not?’
The sound of his voice brought the neurologist into the room. Tâ slipped his legs over the side of the bed and tried to stand up. He sat down abruptly. ‘Where the hell am I?’ he asked crossly, ‘and who would you lot be?’
The neurologist eyed him keenly. ‘Comrade Tanh Bên Lòng. I am glad to see you have regained consciousness. You are in Ban Ban camp. I am a doctor from Hanoi and my colleague is next door. Don’t get up for a few minutes. You have been asleep for a long time. Do you hurt or ache anywhere?
‘I am stiff. I must go and have a pee. I am also very thirsty.’
The neurologist directed one of the staff to help him and, while that was being done, a hoarse cry came from another room. The Deputy had also regained consciousness. It was his turn for solicitous attention. Tâ came back from the toilet and lay on his bed, still wobbly in the legs. He was left alone for a while, to his relief. On his way to the toilet he had noticed the activity in the place and wanted to clear his thoughts which were more sluggish than usual.
The neurologist and his fellow doctor decided that the three camp inmates should spend the rest of that night in the hospital, having first been given a light meal. It had not been forgotten that, had it not been for those who had come into the camp with this mysterious Tanh Bên Lòng, things would not have reached this parlous state they had, though the recovery of four out of four was, as one of the inquisitors who had service with the French put it, ‘a full house in more than one way’. A guard was detailed with the strictest instructions not to let anybody other than the hospital staff in and, at the same time, the camp security was trebled in case the unknown tried either to get in, always presuming they had got out, or get out, always presuming they were still inside.
But however frustrated, afraid, angry or bemused people were, none could have guessed that the fortunes of little Laos had, by the efforts of men with other matters on their mind, been changed for longer than a generation, maybe even for longer, as a result of the previous twenty-four hours’ events.