29

Waiting for the general to emerge from the office, Major Pham Quyen and Lieutenant Kiem stood at attention. In one hand Kiem was holding the general’s military cap with its three stars and in the other his baton decorated with ivory and snakeskin. The general walked out looking at his watch.

“Major, why don’t you accompany me today?”

“Sir?”

“Well, there’s going to be a small party at Bai Bang. I invited Mr. Butler, the consultant at the provincial office, a few American officers, and some civilians from the US-Vietnamese Joint Committee.”

“The mayor of Hoi An and the Second Division commander aren’t coming, sir?”

“Too much trouble for them to commute by helicopter. I need you to act as my interpreter and also advise me on the proper line in the discussions.”

“Yes, sir. I understand, sir.”

Taking his hat from Lieutenant Kiem, the general put it on and then snatched the baton and stuck it under his arm. As they left, Pham Quyen said to Kiem, “Stop by the warehouse and check the outgoing goods, and see to the invoices and receipts.”

“Yes, sir.”

After the two men left the office, Kiem peered out of the window to watch the raucous and flashy procession as the general departed. Pham Quyen was sitting beside the driver in the lead vehicle, a camouflaged Jeep, and directly behind him there was a soldier in ranger uniform holding a pivoting M60 machine gun. When the Jeep began to roll, its headlights and siren were switched on. Following was the general’s khaki-colored sedan, with a convoy truck following that and an armored personnel carrier bringing up the rear. The parade made its way to the smokestack bridge. As the sound of the siren died out in the distance, Kiem lounged deep in Pham Quyen’s revolving leather chair, put his feet up on the desk, and leaned all the way back.

Lieutenant Kiem had more than a few grievances lately. The office had been abuzz with whispering between Major Pham and the general, and memos had been flying back and forth between the two of them, but not even once had his opinion been solicited. They never informed him of the contents of their consultations. The commodities for the phoenix hamlets project had been streaming in from the pier to the provincial office warehouses, and from there to the settlement sites, but all he was asked to do was to keep a nominal ledger recording the flow of goods in and out of the warehouse.

The only variation was that every now and then Major Pham would call him out to the Sports Club or to a bar and hand him some extra pocket money. For a while on each payday he had been getting an extra envelope containing thirty thousand piasters. The first time he received one of those envelopes, it had made his heart pound. The sum was nearly three times his regular salary, and he almost wept. It had enabled Kiem to move his family from Dong Dao to a rented house in a safer and more pleasant neighborhood on Puohung Street.

Still, it was not a question of money. What he could not bear was that he, the chief assistant to Major Pham, knew almost nothing about the phoenix hamlets resettlement program, the most important mission being undertaken by the aide-de-camp’s office. Kiem was not a graduate from the military academy; he had just taken the officer appointment exam when they drafted him in Quang Ngai, where he had been working as a kindergarten teacher. He was an ordinary conscript officer. But he was no idiot; he knew better than to assume that Pham Quyen was walking all over him and failing to delegate him any tasks because he was single-mindedly absorbed in his mission. When he had received his promotion to the provincial government office from his prior duty as platoon leader of a supply company on the outskirts of Hoi An, his fellow officers had agreed that, “In three years, you’ll be out of this hell for good.” And some civilians had told him, “When you get there, save up some money and find a way to move into a police detachment.”

Such had been the conventional wisdom among his fellow officers. A certain colonel was said to have refused a promotion to general and instead went daily to visit a powerbroker he knew, begging the man to appoint him as a police superintendent. That Kiem had been chosen for the provincial office duty was due to his outstanding record in the administrative training course at officer school. Kiem slowly took his feet off the desk. He poured some coffee that had been brought in from the Grand Hotel, the quality of which Major Pham was always complaining about, and drank it cold.

There was no need for him to hurry over to the warehouse just because some transports were on the way. Besides, there was nothing for him to supervise over there, either. All he had to do was mechanically collect the invoices and receipts. The engines of the trucks were noisy enough for him to hear as they rolled in and he could then leisurely stroll downstairs to the warehouse. Just then the telephone rang. Instinctively, Kiem sprang up from the chair, snapped to attention like a good soldier, and picked up the receiver.

“Office of the aide-de-camp!”

“Is Major Pham in?” asked the voice on the line.

“Ah, he’s out of the office for the day. Who’s calling, please?”

“This is his younger brother. You’re Lieutenant Kiem, aren’t you?”

“That’s right. The chief has accompanied His Excellency, the Provincial Governor, to an important conference. Would you like to leave a message?”

“No, thank you. Are you, Lieutenant, by any chance free after work today?”

“I’m afraid I’ll have an hour’s extra duty this afternoon. Why?”

“Well, I was just wondering if I could ask you a favor.”

“What is it?”

“At seven o’clock, you know the Guangzhou Restaurant next to the Hotel Thanh Thanh, don’t you?”

“The Chinese place?”

“Yes. I’ll be waiting there.”

Kiem was about to say something more when the phone clicked off. What could it be about? Kiem didn’t have the faintest idea. As for Major Pham’s younger brother, he had once had tea with him when he took the Land Rover to deliver a month’s worth of rice to the major’s family, but they had not had a real chance to talk. The major always exuded pride when he mentioned how his younger brother had studied medicine at Hue University and was now carrying out his military service obligation. But Kiem had sensed that this brother had bought his way out of military duty and had been idling around the house and occasionally playing the role of agent for his brother in conducting business deals. Upon further thought, however, it occurred to Kiem that it could not do him any harm to be on better terms with the younger brother of his immediate superior. In fact, he was the one Kiem ought to have gone out of his way to contact in order to make a favorable impression.

At seven twenty that evening, Kiem strolled into Guangzhou Restaurant. Through the picture window across from the door he could see the beach and the narrow sea running to meet the Thu Bon River. The glow of the setting sun fell on the far side of the harbor, and the masts of a junk sailing by shone a pale red in the fading light. The window was open and a glass wind chime was clinking. Each table was enclosed by a wicker screen. A waiter approached.

“How many people, sir?”

“I’m here to meet someone. I’m Lieutenant Kiem.”

“I see, this way please, Lieutenant.”

Pham Minh was waiting in a corner room off of a crescent-shaped corridor. He had been drinking jasmine tea and rose from his seat as Kiem entered.

“Some things came up, so I’m a little late.”

Kiem spoke in a formal, polite tone. Minh smiled and answered, “I just arrived myself a few minutes ago.” He added, “Now, what would you like?” just as Kiem asked, “What would you like to have?”

The two men awkwardly laughed. They ordered a set dinner and some bamboo shoot wine.

“I’ve heard a lot about you from my brother. I understand you’re from Quang Ngai?”

“Yes, but I moved my parents and younger brothers and sisters to Da Nang.”

“Sounds like you have a big family to support. Married?”

“No, not yet.”

While eating, they went on exchanging small talk. Kiem was anxious to find out what sort of favor the major’s brother was going to ask, and why he was the one who had been approached, but Pham Minh had not yet come to the heart of the matter.

“What do you say, Lieutenant? Do you suppose we’ll be winning this war?”

Kiem was momentarily at a loss. “Well, isn’t the world’s greatest power helping us now? The combat strength of the North and the NLF has almost been used up. The bombing of the North will go on. Perhaps the communists will try to negotiate.”

Kiem talked about the war in the stereotypical terms commonly used in pro-government newspapers or propaganda reports from the ARVN. Pham Minh nodded. “I wouldn’t know for sure. Do you think this war is simply between the North Vietnamese Army and the government in Saigon? At the beginning the war was against the French colonialists, and now isn’t America taking over the place of the French?”

“The reality today no longer permits us to argue about nationalism or colonialism. For we now have a government with undeniable sovereignty over South Vietnam.”

As Kiem once again assumed the tone of a government spokesman, Pham Minh abruptly changed both the topic of conversation and the expression on his face.

“Let’s not talk about silly politics. I hate both Saigon and Hanoi. Most of all, I hate America.”

“I don’t like America, either,” Kiem replied.

As he poured more wine into Kiem’s glass, Minh said, as if half-joking, “But dollars I like. Those pretty pieces of paper can turn hell into paradise, anywhere in the world.”

“My sentiment exactly.” Kiem chuckled.

Minh raised his glass. “Now, a toast, to dollars!”

They drank a toast to the one and only point upon which their opinions coincided.

“My brother is an extraordinary man,” Minh said. “He’s a solid pillar in our family and the protector of our household.”

“I too respect the major. He’s a man of great ability. All enterprises in Quang Nam Province are now in his hands.”

Minh pretended to be drunk and went on in slightly slurred speech, “But I say this, you know, too much ability can mean too many arbitrary decisions, that’s what I say.”

He chuckled and continued. “What’s this ability of his all about, anyway? The talent of making money . . . with the governor behind him, is that what it is? Making me idle like this, and allowing you to lay hands on a little extra income, I’m sure. But when you think of it, what we see is merely a grain of rice stuck under a child’s nose compared to what my brother and General Liam are wolfing down, if you know what I mean.”

Kiem also almost blurted out something he had been choking back, but he managed to maintain his composure, and with a sense of decorum he said, “I can’t believe you’re saying this. The major is trying his best to work out many different things.”

“Ah, no doubt he is trying hard. But come now, let’s stop beating around the bush and see if we can come to an agreement on one thing.”

Minh held up one finger. Kiem felt his heart pounding. He avoided Minh’s bloodshot eyes.

“What sort of agreement?”

“Ah, well, nothing so special. You and I, let’s stop being burdens to Major Pham Quyen anymore, that’s all I’m saying.”

“Burdens?”

“Don’t play the fool. If you and I work together, we can do much better than Liam and my brother. My point is, why can’t we be independent, too?”

“You have some kind of plan in mind?” Kiem asked quietly.

“What do you know about the phoenix hamlets project, Lieutenant?”

“Well, its, uh . . .” Kiem hesitantly replied, “It’s under the jurisdiction of the Developmental Revolution Committee. General Liam is the chairman of the committee, and Major Pham is one of the key members and should know all about it.”

“As I understand it, the Autonomous Residents Councils have been formed, is that not right?”

“Yes, and the major and I will be in charge of that program.”

“What about militia training and control?”

“I’m handling the job of liaison officer, but the training and command of the militia are under the Second Division military commander. The superintendent of the Da Nang police is to give support.”

“Isn’t the Second Division supposed to be providing perimeter defense for the stations?”

Gradually, Kiem began to grasp the intention of Pham Minh’s string of questions. Kiem explained the situation point by point.

“Officially, the Second Division is in charge of establishing and training as well as combat operations of the militias. However, they are supposed to set up a corps of training instructors who will be put under the command of the provincial office. A captain will be dispatched to our office as a liaison for the instructors. Since the militias are made up of civilians from each hamlet, the background investigations and other problems concerning conscription into the militia are under the jurisdiction of the police superintendent.”

“Aren’t you the one holding the key to the important matters?”

“In the end, yes, depending upon my effort . . . but then, what I actually do will depend on what orders my superior, Major Pham, gives me to carry out.”

“There’s a famous saying: ‘In the military, duty means more than rank,’” said Pham Minh. “As far as the militia goes, I think your role is extremely important. Administering the militia is your duty.”

Kiem nodded. “In principle, it is.”

Having said this, Kiem stretched out his torso, still avoiding Minh’s gaze. Then, glancing up at the colorful patterns on the ceiling, he asked, “What is the favor that you said you wanted to ask?”

“To think over the matter we agreed upon, that’s all.”

“Did we agree on something?”

“That you and I should have an independent business together.”

“We haven’t yet reached any agreement, have we?” Kiem said, with great composure.

“I am Major Pham’s brother. Presently I’m in charge of all the traffic in goods at the Nguyen Cuong Company, one of the business contacts of the provincial office. Just like my brother, I have a full grasp of the content of the dealings being made by the office. You have no idea whether the outgoing goods are reaching the actual hamlet sites or are being siphoned away en route. That is no business of yours, but if you knew about it in advance, you’d know all the vital parts of the general’s and the aide-de-camp’s operations. Of course, it’ll only be possible if you cooperate with me. That is one of the main reasons why you and I need to cooperate.

“What’s more, you can have some independence in supervising the affairs of establishing the militias. You can make safer deals by doing business with the same dealers your superiors are already dealing with. But it’ll be bad if your superiors also have a grasp of your dealings. I’m confident I can cut off Nguyen Cuong. In a way, you and I are in the same kind of positions here in Da Nang, don’t you think? That’s another important reason. And as for the third important reason, I’ll tell you that when you’ve decided to be my partner.”

Pham Minh refilled both of their glasses. Then he held his up to eye level. “What do you say? To our partnership!”

Kiem raised his glass as well. “Fine. To our partnership!”

They clinked their glasses together and simultaneously drained them in a single gulp. Kiem spoke. “To set up the militias, they will be supplied with training allowances, rice, salaries, and an large amount of military equipment. But I’ll have to get the cooperation of Colonel Cao, the police superintendent, and the training corps liaison officer.”

“We only need to get a monopoly on certain items and distribute the rest.”

“Which items? What do you mean?”

“Weapons and ammunition,” Pham Minh said.

“Why, then . . .” Lieutenant Kiem looked behind him to see if anyone could overhear them, then he leaned over the table and said in a whisper, “Isn’t that stuff traded with the NLF?”

“So? What’s wrong with that?” Pham Minh didn’t let the lieutenant answer and continued. “Do you mean to tell me you thought those construction materials, that rice and the rest of the supplies would go straight to the hamlets under strict control of Saigon? From the beginning of this war, the materiel brought in from France and America has been used by the North as well as the South. Those who profited from the trade are long gone from this hell. Even if you and I don’t do this, someone else will. Within two or three years, you and my brother will be transferred to another post. If you don’t boost your strength now, you’ll end up as a platoon commander in some small village or as a chief of militia back in the jungle somewhere, eating rations of fish and rice and eking out each day wondering when you’ll be struck down from behind. Or, perhaps you’ll dig out a channel and slip down to Saigon or escape to another foreign country. If we can drum up a ghost population of about two thousand, the things supplied to those souls—weapons, salaries, training allowances, death payments, rice, ammunition, and so on—will keep us fully supplied for our business dealings. And that’s not all. Nothing changes as drastically as military manpower. Nobody will bother to travel to those remote hamlets to do head counts to confirm the requisition quantities you record.”

It seemed unlikely Kiem would be surprised again. He busied himself for a while calculating in his mind the level of padding of manpower rosters he could get away with. “We’ll discuss this further as we go along,” he said.

“I thought you’d see it my way.”

They looked at one another and laughed.

“What are the terms of the partnership?” Kiem asked.

“Half the profits are yours. And we divide up the profits at the close of each deal. What do you say?”

“No argument.”

“I’ve already clarified the two necessary and sufficient reasons for you and I to cooperate, haven’t I?”

“Yes. If I’m not mistaken, the first was, when you and I cooperate, each with detailed information on the dealings of the provincial office, I’ll have a good grip on my superiors’ vitals. The second was that I, as Major Pham’s man, and you as his brother, are in identical key positions in Da Nang and so are natural allies. As for the third, you said you’d tell me only after I agreed to be your partner. So, tell me now, what is it?”

“I have connections . . . with the NLF.” Pham Minh spoke in a barely audible whisper.

Kiem calmly asked, “Have you joined the NLF?”

“No ... I’m a deserter from that side. And as for this side, I bought my way out of duty. In a sense, I’ve been separated from both the Saigon and Hanoi sides. But I still have connections with the NLF in Da Nang. So, you can safely turn your goods into cash through this partner. That’s the third reason that makes our partnership most desirable.”

“I see that now.”

The waiter came up and said gravely, “Here’s the check. Sorry, but it’s closing time.”

“Ah, we should leave.”

Pham Minh paid the bill and said to the waiter, “Give us five more minutes, will you?”

“As you wish, sir.”

Minh took a sealed envelope out of his back pocket and placed it on the table.

“Here’s a hundred thousand piasters,” Minh said, pushing the envelope toward Lieutenant Kiem. “You can consider it as an advance against profits from our coming deals. I just wanted you to have it as a token to seal our partnership.”

“Well, it makes me a little uncomfortable—”

Pham Minh didn’t let Kiem finish. “If you insist . . . we can set the prices for various items and commence our deals from next week.”

“On what basis will we decide the prices?”

“Naturally, we’ll observe the going rates in Saigon.”

“Good.”

Minh did not remove his eyes from Kiem as the latter picked up the envelope and stuck it in the upper pocket of his uniform, then got up from his seat. When they parted at the front door of Guangzhou Restaurant, Pham Minh held out his hand and said, “I’m counting on you.”

“Glad to have met you.”

The lieutenant drove away in a Jeep with official license plates. Minh stood for a while in front of the Chinese restaurant. Nguyen Thach approached him from behind.

“Looks like you worked it out. Well done.”

“Can we trust him?”

“He took the money, didn’t he?”

“Yes. He was quite calm about it.”

“A hundred thousand is his salary for a whole year, even if such a sum means nothing to the American soldiers.”

“Mentioning the NLF was the moment of truth,” Pham Minh said.

“He’s already cast his lot. Now, let’s get back to Le Loi Boulevard”

Starting the engine, Thach added, “If Kiem had refused the money, I would’ve had no choice but to shoot him.”

On the outskirts of the city, with the fall of night, as always, came the sound of gunfire and heavy artillery. Formations of helicopters flitted through the sky. Along Doc Lap Boulevard, Puohung Street, and White Ivory Street, lined with government offices and large buildings, there were a few vehicles but no trace of pedestrians. Even so, the small tearooms and bars exclusively for the local Vietnamese population were sometimes packed until late with young men and women who had nowhere else to go. For a few months after the Tet Offensive, there had been a lull in attacks in the city, apart from the usual assaults mounted by the guerrillas native to the environs.

The American side could not mount any major offensives, either. The general impression that the war was under the control of the US military and the ARVN had been completely shattered since the previous spring. Now, the US presidential election was set for November, and Johnson had just announced that he would not be seeking re-election. It seemed that for the time being the US forces preferred to maintain the status quo and preferred not to mount any vigorous new initiatives.

The entertainment districts of Da Nang began to blossom like the old days. The newspapers even began to talk optimistically about the biggest boom since the beginning of the war.

Lei was sitting at Café Hoitim. The entire place—interior, curtains, and tablecloths—was done up in a violet color scheme, perhaps reflecting the café’s name. It was a drinking establishment where all refreshments, from American canned beer to Vietnamese flower wine, were sold by the glass. Coffee, tea, and lemonade were also available, of course. The patrons, high school seniors, students from the technical college, young teachers, office workers, and a smattering of soldiers, were thronging in small scattered groups, talking loudly and laughing. The unwritten code of the place was that anyone who brought up the subject of the war or politics could, at the request of any other customer, be asked to make a graceful exit.

Sitting across from Lei were Chan Te Shoan and Tran Van Phuoc. Lei and Phuoc were drinking coffee, but Shoan was already having her third glass of flower wine over ice.

“Shoan, what if you get drunk?” Lei asked, concerned.

“She’ll be all right,” Phuoc said. “I might have some myself. If it gets too late, you two can sleep at my house. It’s only a block away.”

“No, I couldn’t. My family would worry.”

“I’ll call and explain it to them for you later.”

Lei and Phuoc ceased their exchange when they noticed that Shoan was quietly crying, her head leaning against the wall.

“Shoan . . .”

“What’s wrong, Shoan?”

Shoan took a handkerchief from her bag and quickly wiped her cheeks. “Why ask what you already know?”

Phuoc whispered in Lei’s ear, “We’re seniors. After graduation exams, we’ll be through with school. Those qualified for college will go to Hue or Saigon, but I wonder how many of us will go? Technical colleges and commercial schools are only for boys. In Da Nang most families arrange for daughters to be engaged when they are seniors, and marriage comes as soon as you graduate.”

Lei asked Shoan, “Sister, is your family pressuring you to get engaged?”

“No, not really,” Shoan replied, smiling bitterly.

“Yes, really,” Phuoc said. “I’m so sick and tired of it. I’ve already had to see men found by a matchmaker. I was embarrassed to death. I’m pestering my father to let me slip away to Hue.”

“Is Minh at home?” Shoan asked Lei.

She nodded feebly. “Yes, but he’s changed.”

Phuoc snorted. “Phew, that coward!”

“Are you done?” Outraged, Lei pushed her chair back and got up to leave. Phuoc grabbed her hand.

“Dear, dear, sit down please. My mistake. I’m sorry.”

“Sit down, Lei.”

At Shoan’s entreaty Lei sat back down, her lips in a pout.

“I apologize,” Phuoc went on. “But remember how proud you were when you told us that Mr. Pham Minh had gone off into the jungle? I mean, our seniors in high school . . . have you thought about them? Boys who left to fight for the Liberation Front, and those girls . . . I was only saying what I honestly felt.”

“I understand how you feel, Sister, I do.” Lei suppressed an urge to burst into tears and instead blew her nose fiercely.

“Stop it, you two. Let’s go to my house. I’ll call your families.”

Phuoc urged Lei and Shoan to get moving. The three of them left the cafe and walked toward the beach. From a club somewhere they could hear the roar of American soldiers yelling and singing. Phuoc led the way, followed by Lei and Shoan, whose gait was a bit unsteady from the drinks.

“Are you all right?” Lei asked, supporting Shoan.

“Yes, the cool breeze makes me feel much better.”

They were walking along the tree-lined road heading toward the customs house.

“Sister, would you like to see my brother?”

“I don’t know . . .” Shoan turned to face the dark ocean, as if she was afraid she might cry again.

“He showed no sign of it, but I think he’s hoping that you’ll come first to see him.”

“The truth is . . . I may get engaged to someone else.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“My father does keep pushing me,” Shoan said, with her head down. “Mother knows how I feel, but Father is different.”

“But it’s something that happens to everyone in the graduating class.”

“I’ve already refused many times, but this time my father is very firm.”

Lei held Shoan’s hand tightly. “Sister, let me talk to my brother. I think he feels so ashamed for having left the NLF. That’s why he avoids talking to anyone in the family.”

The three girls reached Phuoc’s house. The German shepherd barked loudly. Phuoc pushed open the iron gate, muttering, “All that stupid dog does is bark, day and night. Gene, it’s me, me! Stop barking!”

A light came on in the front hall and Phuoc’s younger brother stuck his head through the open door.

“Is that you, Sister?”

“Yeah, and Shoan and Lei are with me.”

They traded hellos and entered the house, where Mrs. Hue greeted them. “Come on in, we have a guest.”

Under the gaze of the girls, a foreigner with a dark complexion stood up and bowed.

“Nice to meet you.”

Phuoc recognized him to be the Korean soldier who had been visiting her family now and then, and the corners of her eyes grew taught.

“Why is that man coming to our house so often?”

“Don’t say that, dear. He’s Huan’s friend and has been very nice to your little brother. I invited him to dinner. His own family is back home in his country, so I figured it’d be nice for him to know something about Vietnamese families, don’t you think?”

“They’re beasts who kill children.”

The boy, Huan, shouted, “Ahn is not like that! He’s my friend. Daddy said he’s a decent man.”

“He’s right. You should apologize to your brother. And since he’s a young man not so much older than you, why don’t you girls have a talk with him?”

“No, thanks. If he wasn’t a soldier we might.”

Phuoc led Shoan and Lei upstairs.

“I hate foreign soldiers. Especially the Koreans,” Phuoc said, glaring back down the stairs.

When the glass door to the veranda was open, a cool, salty wind blew in from outside. Phuoc took out a bottle of wine and some glasses.

“Today is Shoan’s day. Help yourself.”

Lei put the glasses away. “No more of this nonsense, please, Phuoc.”

“Leave it. I’ll drink,” Shoan murmured.

Phuoc and Shoan started drinking the wine. Lei pulled a chair over by the window and sat down.

“Don’t you go to Uncle Trinh’s in Dong Dao anymore?”

Shoan shook her head. “No, the members of the study circle are all scattered now.”

“Could they all have gone into the jungle?”

“Probably. Otherwise, to the universities.”

“Pham Minh is the only one who returned.”

As Phuoc kept up her insinuations, Shoan grabbed her head with both hands and said, “Please . . . enough talk about Pham Minh!”

Curfew hour had come and gone, so all the fishing boats in Da Nang Bay had been pulled up on the beach. The only light visible was from the US Navy patrol boat cruising up and down the harbor. A flare went off in the distant sky. The three girls gradually quieted down. Sitting in the dark, her head propped against the wall, Shoan started reciting softly in French:

Rappelle-toi Barbara.

Il pleuvait sans cesse sur Brest ce jour-la. . . .10

Pham Minh and the foreman finished counting the sacks of cement and fertilizer that had been delivered and wrote out a receipt. After all of the workers had gone, Minh buried himself in the sofa, out of reach of the sunlight pouring through the window, and propped his feet up on the desk. The provisioning of weapons for the Fourth Company had now been done without a hitch. A new mission would be coming down for the reinforcements.

Minh was waiting for Nguyen Thach. The sun cast a long bright rectangular patch that reached from the desk to the center of the warehouse. A shadow appeared on one edge, and gradually lengthened. Minh quickly took his legs down from the desk and craned his neck around to look toward the entrance.

“Who’s . . .”

The bottom of a white ahozai came into view, and as his eyes moved upwards they met Shoan’s. Her head was hanging, and her face was partly concealed by her long hair, but those eyes of hers were trained directly upon him.

“What are you . . . what are you doing here . . .?”

He was halfway to his feet. She lifted her foot, and tapping the floor with the toe of her sandal, said, “Lei told me where you were. I’ve known for a while that you were working in Le Loi market, though. Yesterday Lei mentioned the name of the company, so . . .”

Like hers, Minh’s eyes were downcast. “Why have you been avoiding me?” she asked.

“Here, sit down.”

Minh pulled his chair out from behind the desk and pushed it toward her.

“Let’s go outside and talk.”

Pham Minh looked at his watch. “I still have things to take care of. If you go straight down the alley, there’s a pub called ‘Chrysanthemum’ by the bus terminal. Will you go there and wait for me?”

Shoan walked out and headed down the alley, staring down at the hem of her ahozai, in the same way as when she had come.

“Who was she?”

Minh was watching her walk away when he heard Nguyen Thach’s voice from behind. He looked back.

“Good morning, sir.”

Thach was dressed rather neatly today, like his brother, which was unusual for him.

“I asked you who she was.”

Minh walked to the warehouse door and looked outside. “She’s a friend of my younger sister, sir.”

“Is that a fact?”

Thach waited. Minh remained silent for a while, then, as Thach sat in his chair looking calmly about the warehouse, he took a deep breath and spoke again. “To tell the truth, she’s a girl I was in love with before. She stopped by to see me.”

“What do you mean ‘before’? Before you went to Atwat?”

“Yes, sir. Since then I haven’t seen her at all.”

“Why not?”

“Because I kept thinking about what my friend Thanh told me. Besides, I was afraid.”

“Ah, Thanh is a fine fighter. He’s now a company commander in Hue district. Did he tell you not to see her?”

Minh stared at Thach with an air of resentment. Nguyen Thach held up both hands.

“Oh, all right. I don’t doubt that Thanh said something, like that a love affair is tragic in your generation, or that love should be sublimated into love for the Vietnamese people, well, something along those lines. You see, I know him pretty well, too.”

“The reason I’m not seeing Shoan is . . .” Minh paused for a moment, and then he said in a clear voice, “. . . because I’m not confident I can make her into a comrade.”

Thach just nodded. He picked up a ballpoint pen and kept tapping the desk with it, as if absorbed in thought. He seemed far away, his eyes focused in midair. Minh spoke again.

“What I find most tormenting is that I have to conceal the truth even from her. I’ve caused her and my younger sister to lose their faith and pride in me.”

“I can understand that.” Thach stopped tapping. “Everyone is bound to have some remorse about the days of their youth. I wonder if Thanh wasn’t scared himself.”

Thach stood up. “Among the NLF fighters, there are some who are waging war alongside their loved ones. They’re the happiest men and women in Vietnam. Our cases are different, however. You and I are intellectuals, Comrade. And we’re underground agents. The most important thing for you now is to keep your exposure to a minimum and maintain the security of the organization. Our foes are not only the visible power of the imperialists and their followers but also ourselves. I happened to hear that you made a date to meet her at the pub. Why don’t you go ahead there now and then come back? Meanwhile, I’ll have lunch with Dr. Tran and come back here.”

“Dr. Tran?”

“Director of the Da Nang Red Cross Hospital. It’s possible he might sell antibiotics and painkillers to us. Why, do you know him?”

“No . . . I mean, his daughter goes to Lycée de Pascal with my younger sister.”

Thach laughed loudly. “We certainly will win. In South Vietnam, the NLF is the only group that has any sense of responsibility for this war. Did you know? The grenade in my possession helped me.”

“Grenade?”

“You know, don’t you? That Korean investigation agent. He’s the one who’s introducing me to Dr. Tran.”

“Well, I’ll see you during the siesta hour, then.”

The two went their separate ways. Thach went out through the inside door leading from the warehouse into the front corridor. Minh walked out the main door and then pulled the iron gate shut and locked it.

At Chrysanthemum Pub, Pham Minh and Chan Te Shoan found themselves once again seated face-to-face. It was lunchtime, and the place was crowded.

“Let’s have lunch. The Puo noodles here are great,” Minh said.

“I don’t feel like it.”

“Then I’ll eat alone.”

“Go ahead.”

Minh ordered noodles. They were served with minced meatballs and a garnish of fragrant herbs. He began to eat.

“Have you been back to Uncle Trinh’s?” Shoan asked.

Shoan was gently reminding him of the night they had spent together in the air-raid shelter before he departed for Atwat.

“No, I haven’t,” Minh answered curtly.

“What is it with you? I’m the same as I used to be. I don’t care whether you went into the jungle or came out of it.”

Minh quietly emptied his bowl.

“Phuoc says you’re a coward, but, my dear, I don’t think so.”

She used the words, “my dear,” but Minh responded with measured coldness.

“Shoan, I’m no longer the same man as before. I’ve changed.”

“How? You no longer care for me as you did before?”

“I see now how thoughtless I used to be. Now I’m a soldier in the Air Force of the Republic of Vietnam. I plan to help my brother make a lot of money. And then I’ll go abroad to study. I’ve no time for marriage now or for flirting with women. When I become famous and powerful I’ll have many opportunities to meet wonderful women, and . . .”

“I see you really have changed, just as Lei said.” Shoan gritted her teeth to hold back the tears. But there was still a thread of hope she was clutching. She managed to speak again in a weak, quivering voice.

“I’ll probably be engaged. My family is urging me to.”

“En . . . gaged?”

“Yes, I’m a graduating senior now. Once the dry season is over, we’ll have graduation exams.”

Minh averted his eyes from Shoan’s gaze. He felt his throat growing tight. “That’s good.”

“Do you really mean it?”

Minh just stared into his teacup, with both arms stretched out on the table. Shoan abruptly stood up. Then, without a word, she rushed out of the door of the pub. Minh went after her, murmuring passionately to himself: “No, I don’t want any woman but her. She has to be my wife.” He saw the white trail of her skirt disappear into the crowd.

“Shoan, wait!”

But his cry was lost in the loud rumble of engines at the bus terminal and in the shouts of peddlers trying to beckon for customers. Minh stopped in his tracks, his fists clenched, and tried to convince himself that his feet were glued to the ground. When he looked up again, Shoan was nowhere to be seen.

“Shoan . . .”

All the people in the crowd, all the buildings, and everything in old Le Loi market grew blurry. Minh hurriedly wiped his eyes with his palms.

Down on White Ivory Road along the shore, Nguyen Thach arrived at the restaurant that occupied an old wooden vessel. He came upon Ahn Yong Kyu and Dr. Tran sitting on the aft end of the upper deck. Ahn introduced the two men to each other.

“This is the Mr. Nguyen Thach I’ve been telling you about. And this is Dr. Tran.”

From behind his glasses, Dr. Tran carefully scrutinized Thach. They shook hands, then Ahn said, “Dr. Tran tells me his request was granted by the public welfare section of the US headquarters, so he’ll be receiving medical supplies on a regular basis.”

“Very good. In Vietnam, there are patients dying everywhere without receiving any medical treatment,” Thach said.

Dr. Tran maintained a prudent silence.

“I’ve given Dr. Tran a bit of advice about the military hierarchy,” Yong Kyu said. “And so he sent an official letter in the name of the Red Cross Hospital to the supply command, including the official approval from US headquarters. He received an immediate approval for his requisitions. Yesterday, the first deliveries of medical supplies were made.”

“What is being supplied?”

Dr. Tran answered in Vietnamese, “Mostly antibiotics like streptomycin and Terramycin. Painkillers in plastic syringes for field use, topical disinfectants for external wounds and burns, ointments, and so on, but most of them are for use on the battlefield. We won’t need it all, only a portion will be sufficient for hospital use. We’re struggling though great financial hardship.”

“Of course. I understand,” Nguyen Thach remarked. Then he asked, “What’s the approximate quantity available?”

“Two crates of antibiotics and one of painkillers, roughly.”

“A crate means ten small boxes, with each box containing a dozen bottles and each bottle a hundred pills, right?”

“I think so.”

“That’s really a lot if they supply it regularly. The current market price for a single capsule of Terramycin has been fluctuating between three hundred and five hundred piasters, which means a bottle would run between thirty thousand and fifty thousand.”

“A crate would then be about three or four hundred thousand piasters,” Dr. Tran said, smiling contentedly.

“Can you request more medicines?”

“We only have a limited number of beds in our hospital. But, there’s another way. Every city in Quang Nam Province has a public hospital. And out in the hamlets, most people don’t have the benefit of medical care.”

“Let’s suppose that a legal channel is arranged to make a request, then can you get the medical supplies from the supply corps?” Thach asked.

Yong Kyu interrupted. “I don’t understand Vietnamese. You seem to have lost your manners—how about using English?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot about your presence. I just asked Dr. Tran if he could increase the quantities of medicines being supplied.”

“He’s opened a proper channel, so I don’t see why the hospital can’t make direct purchases,” Yong Kyu said.

With Yong Kyu taking part, Thach resigned himself to speaking English “That’s only a temporary measure. The most important thing is that the supplies should be regular.”

Dr. Tran spoke in Vietnamese to Thach, “You and I are compatriots. Is there any need for a foreigner to be a middleman?”

“Don’t worry. He’s just here this once to introduce us to each other. He’ll be returning to Korea in a few months.”

Dr. Tran pushed up the rim of his glasses and, switching to English, said to Yong Kyu, “Due to budget cuts, our hospital is encountering serious financial difficulties. With the money from disposal of leftover medical supplies, we’re planning to make some new appropriations. We’ll have to follow the formal procedures on paper, however.”

“Of course, you should.”

Having decided not to intervene any further, Yong Kyu left the table for a while. Dr. Tran continued his discussion with Nguyen Thach. “If we organize mobile clinics to make rounds out in the villages, then there’ll be a good reason to expand the supply volume further.”

“Mobile clinics ... an excellent idea, doctor.”

“It’ll also be good for the people.”

Thach thought to himself that connecting the mobile clinic teams with the phoenix hamlets project would be very auspicious. Ahn Yong Kyu returned to his seat and as he sat down said, “I’m famished. Mr. Nguyen, hurry and buy us lunch, if you would. Since I don’t know your language, I should have brought Toi for an occasion like this.”

Thach clasped his hands together and said, “I’m truly sorry. There’s an old Tonkinese saying: ‘A marriage arranged by the Chinese.’”

“That sounds like an old proverb about invaders. In Korea we also have a tendency to regard our good customs as legacies derived from invaders from the continent.”

They ordered fried fish and rice. As they ate, the two Vietnamese asked Yong Kyu about Korea, about the family structures and customs back home.

“I’ll send a car to the hospital tonight,” Thach said.

“Before you do, we have one more thing to discuss,” Dr. Tran said, and Thach readily grasped his meaning.

“Later when I return to the office, I’ll give you a call,” Thach said. “If you have some free time this evening, I’d like to meet you in a quiet location.”

Dr. Tran took out a business card and handed it to Thach. “I’ll be resting at home during the siesta. Call me there, please.”

Dr. Tran left first in his chauffeured car from the hospital.

“Are you headed back to the office?” Thach asked Yong Kyu as he got into the van.

“No, I have to drop by the investigation office to take care of a few things. I’ll see you in the market tomorrow morning. And you’ll have to introduce me to one of the clerks at Puohung Company as promised.”

“Of course. And that’s not all. I’ve decided to reciprocate the favor you’ve done for me.”

“Wow, I’m so grateful I almost feel like crying,” Yong Kyu said with a grin.

“No, really, I mean it. Tell your superior I can change your military notes as much as you like into greenbacks without any commission. That’ll put you in a much better position than now.”

“You mean mainland US dollars?”

“Yes, dollars. Just say the word. Bring me military currency and I’ll change it on the spot.”

“Is that all?” Yong Kyu said casually. “We can always find a few Indian moneychangers downtown, you know.”

“Yes, but they take a big bite with their commissions.”

“Well, I’m not interested, but my captain might appreciate the offer. Thanks, anyway.”

They parted. Yong Kyu headed off on foot, intending to walk all the way to the investigation headquarters at the top of Puohung Street. Thach went straight back to the office in Le Loi market. It was siesta time, so the streets were deserted. The surface of the street was a blinding white in the midday heat.

Nguyen Thach was thinking about the orders handed down to him the night before from the district committee. They were operations orders for the 434th Special Action Group of the Third Special District. With tax collection season ahead, the instructions concerned reinforcement of urban guerrilla units in Da Nang and attacks in several enemy facilities and individual targets. The first task was to blow up an oil reservoir tank near China Beach, and then to demolish the main MAC gate near Somdomeh.

The second mission was to set off a bomb over the weekend in the parking lot of the Grand Hotel, or to attack the ARVN barracks over near the smokestack. The last mission was to assassinate Vietnamese government officials or military officers who were objects of popular scorn.

These would be the first combat operations in the city in a long time, breaking the lull since the Tet Offensive. In the Da Nang region there had been the usual fighting by local guerrillas, but peace had been more or less maintained within the city limits. The Fourth Company, recently undergoing training, was due to be mobilized. The military strength of the 434th Special Action Group included one battalion from the outskirts and one from Da Nang city proper, however the companies were actually formed with only fifteen members and each platoon consisted of a five-member cell. Thach used his own discretion as the chief agent for the district and put the black mark of a target under the name of Colonel Cao, the police superintendent.

Thach reached his brother’s warehouse and walked inside. Pham Minh had buried his face on the desk, but he quickly lifted his head when he heard someone entering. As always, Thach sat astride the desk, facing the entrance and keeping an eye on the outside through the window.

“Today is the day to make contact with the company lines, eh?”

“Yes, sir.”

“This month will end the first half of the year. So this is when we’ll implement the first periodic quota for tax collection and for levy of new recruits in the city. The operations orders have been received. This time, only the First Battalion will be carrying out combat missions in Da Nang. Of course, they’re still undergoing training, so they’ve been given relatively simple targets. Next weekend they will set up a high-explosive charge in the parking lot of the Grand Hotel. And they will eliminate the police superintendent, Colonel Cao. These tasks must be completed within five to ten days from the start of next week.”

“Colonel Cao, you say?” Minh asked, puzzled.

“That’s correct. He’s to be the real man in charge of organizing the militias for the phoenix hamlets project. No harm would be done if he cooperates with Kiem, but if he interferes, he’ll become an obstacle to our mission.”

“Judging from the way Kiem talked, he didn’t seem to worry much about Cao or about the liaison officer from the Second Division. As our investigations already revealed, Cao is a paragon of a corrupt officer. He’s deeply involved in all the vice concessions from heroin to cigarettes and beer as well as the brothels, Turkish baths, night clubs, bars, and other operations in the pleasure districts of Da Nang. Aren’t the decadent officials and corrupt military officers usually exempted from being NLF targets? Of course, he’s been an object of complaints, but the more complaints he generates, we were taught, the more the Saigon government itself becomes unpopular. A vicious village mayor should be eliminated instantly, but someone like Cao, wouldn’t he make himself useful to us in our trading operations?”

“Well . . . what you say makes sense in a case like your brother,” Thach said. “But there’s a great danger that Cao might openly act on his own plans regarding establishment of the phoenix hamlet militias. We must support Lieutenant Kiem and see to it that he assumes even greater responsibility. What we want is a restructuring of the dealing channels. If a new police superintendent has to take over Cao’s role, he’ll need time to learn the ropes and then he’ll have to reclaim Cao’s concessions one by one. Meanwhile, we can use Kiem to systematically reorganize all of the dealing in war materiel connected with the setting up of the militias.

“It won’t be easy for the new superintendent to interfere with Kiem, since the new system will already be in place from top to bottom in tight order, and the new man will have to focus on his own duties. For instance, he may be content if we offer him a portion of the revenues from draft exemptions or diverted training expenses, and make that into his steady income. As you know, we’re looking now for a way we can develop a steady source of weapons, ammunition, and medical supplies. In addition, if we can solve the problem of procuring C-rations, then the NLF in central Vietnam will be able to find its feet, and that will mean the supply routes along the Ho Chi Minh Trail farther south will also be able to carry larger flows. The elimination of Cao will bring about a big change in the underground economy of Da Nang, wait and see. There’ll be an upheaval in the supply of luxury items from the PXs, and the black market will be up for grabs, since all the dealers, not to mention the Americans and the Koreans, will heatedly compete with one another.”

“Now I understand, sir.”

“Cell A of the reinforcement company is most efficient, so I’m planning to entrust the elimination of Cao to them. Cell B will be assigned to assist cell A, and cell C can take care of the Grand Hotel mission. I’ll be furnishing cell C with time-delay detonators and disassembled mines. First, tell them to put together their basic plans this week and then report on that to a higher authority. After their plans are reviewed and accepted, they can execute them. Cell B should conduct investigations into Cao’s house, his relatives and friends, his daily routine and patterns of movement, the strength and characteristics of his bodyguards, the places he most often frequents, and so on. Based on that information, cell A will select the most opportune time and location for the attack, then conduct a field survey and a dry run before eliminating Cao. What’s the contact hour?”

“About the time the office closes.”

“You now have a complete understanding of the orders for operations and the duties of each cell, right?”

Pham Minh nodded. Thach was about to leave the office when he paused and asked, “Did you see the girl?”

“Yes, just for a short time.”

“So, what’s to be done about it?”

“Seems her family is pressing her to enter into an engagement. I told her to do as she pleased.”

“Was that truly necessary? In my opinion, your judgment wasn’t very good. The same thing once happened to me. And forget about what Comrade Thanh said.”

“The truth is, I lacked confidence, sir.”

Lifting his gloomy face up toward the ceiling of the warehouse, Thach was lost in thought about something, and then murmured, as if to himself, “Now that I think of it, the road to love and the road to revolution are one and the same.”

Footnote:

10 From the poem “Rappelle-toi Barbara” by Jacques Prévert