35

By the time the storm passed, business in Da Nang had shriveled. The stores that had closed down began to reopen one by one, but quite a few still had their shutters shut tight.

Pham Minh emerged from his house, hopped on his motorbike and drove toward the customs house across from the air force PX. Lately, this trip had become part of his daily routine. The public pier was down below the customs house, and to the left from there all the way to the barge docks was the inner port exclusively for military use. Down to the right of the customs house was a cluster of civilian wharves and warehouses as well as the main fish market for Da Nang. The fish market area was surrounded by restaurants, bars, wholesale fish stores, marine tackle shops, dried seafood processors, and so on.

Nguyen Thach had succeeded in obtaining a license from the Da Nang district office to open a nuoc mam factory in that neighborhood. There were two more of the same kind of factories nearby, so the area reeked with an unbearably foul odor. American soldiers referred to the awful smell as the stench of hell, or as corpse perfume. Often they cracked dirty jokes by saying that gook girls had their crotches pickled with nuoc mam. A salty sauce made from boiled and fermented fish, nuoc mam was used in just about all Vietnamese food.

Nguyen Thach’s establishment bore the outward appearance of a nuoc mam factory, but in fact it was a major collection and distribution center for weapons and ammunition diverted by the NLF from the supplies flowing to the militias of the new phoenix hamlets. These weapons and ammo, plus some construction materials, were moved down from the provincial office and dropped in conex boxes in the military pier area, and from there things were moved at night in small quantities by three-quarter ton truck through the side alley into the fish market area and to the nuoc mam factory. Once there, the crates were piled up inside among the real crates of fish to be sent out later all over the region. In the factory, the disassembled guns and ammunitions were hidden inside the bottom of large earthenware urns used to ship nuoc mam, then these urns were padded with straw and packed in wooden crates. Since nuoc mam was in universal use throughout Vietnam these packages could easily be sent anywhere by truck or coastal vessel.

Pham Minh entered the factory from a back alley of the fish market. Inside, three rank-and-file cell members were at work as laborers. They called the place a nuoc mam factory, but the process required not machinery, but rather a big gas burner on which two big cauldrons were sitting, plus about a dozen large fermentation casks and a cement tank always brimming with water. The work proceeded by first skimming the fermented fish juice, then scooping it into one of the cauldrons where it was boiled and the foam removed. After boiling, the concentrated fish sauce was poured into the earthenware urs, and after cooling, those were moved into storage further inside before being packed and shipped out. Upon opening the door of the place, there were always boxes of small fish stacked around amid bushels of salt. Pham Minh checked around and then walked on inside. The foreman followed him. Some familiar looking crates were stacked in one corner. One of the workers opened the door to a storeroom.

“This is the stuff brought in yesterday. Check it, please.”

Pham Minh used a crowbar to lift the lids off the boxes, one at a time. There were brand new carbines still coated with dark grease from their original packing, pistols, M1 rifles, bullets, and hand grenades. The two of them sweated profusely as they sorted out the ordnance and loaded them into sets of nuoc mam urns. After they finished, Pham Minh wrote down the quantities for each item: 80 carbines, 30 Ml rifles, 20 .45 caliber pistols, 50 cartons of bullets, 70 hand grenades. Not bad, he thought. This meant that they were siphoning off nearly one-third of all the weapons and ammo being supplied to the hamlet militia. At the same time that new supplies of weapons were being lifted off the ships in the pier area, a few feet away the same items that had landed shortly before were heading for the nuoc mam factory, and from there being delivered to local guerrillas.

“The requisition to be shipped to the Hoi An and Tan Binh districts, is it ready?”

“Yes. We’ve already moved them to the backyard.”

“They needed two heavy machine guns. I suppose those have been included?”

“Yes, the stuff we received last week is now being shipped out, too.”

Pham Minh went to the backyard and made a quick count of the neatly arranged nuoc mam pots, then sat down on a wooden bench. The yard was more of a vacant lot stretching between their factory and a neighboring one, and was used by both as a kind of parking lot and loading area. It was unfenced, but they had nailed some wire mesh to some low wooden poles around the urns to keep passersby out of the fish market. No foreigner would ever voluntarily come to a spot dense with nuoc mam factories, and even if they did, the air was sure to give them such a headache that they would not be able to stay for long. Indeed, the neighborhood was known to the American soldiers as “fish sauce ground zero,” and it may have been that joke which gave Nguyen Thach his idea.

Once the three-quarter ton truck arrived, the workmen carefully loaded up the urns. The driver was a cell member who worked at Banh Hao’s store. As usual, Pham Minh got into the truck first and sat in the front beside the driver. When the loading was done, they drove slowly through the crowded marketplace and turned up the thoroughfare leading to the smokestack bridge. Banh Hao’s store on the other side of the Thu Bon River had been performing the function of supply warehouse for the local units up and down the coast. Pham Minh delivered daily supplies to the store and passed along updated information from Da Nang to send out to the provincial villages. Sometimes he also distributed pamphlets for the People’s Revolutionary Party.

“That’s the truck,” said the staff sergeant in the sentry post.

Toi and Yong Kyu peered out through the wire-reinforced window. A three-quarter ton truck rumbled up to the checkpoint gate and stopped. A policemen and a military guard took a quick look at the cargo in the back and then waved.

“See that fellow sitting next to the driver?” Toi asked.

Yong Kyu immediately recognized the wiry Vietnamese youth with sunken cheeks and a tense posture. It was the younger brother of Major Pham Quyen, who had been hired as a clerk at the Nguyen Cuong Company.

“Well, isn’t this getting interesting? Let’s tail him.”

As Yong Kyu walked out of the sentry station, Toi slowly followed. “No need to follow them,” he said. “They’re headed for Banh Hao’s store.”

Toi asked a few more questions of the QC instead. As they got back in the Jeep parked below the bridge, Toi remarked, “Goods in the back were nuoc mam. Now they’re really making us laugh. No doubt Nguyen Thach and that young fellow are in the same group. Listen, Ahn, I know where that nuoc mam is manufactured.”

“Where?”

“The factories are all jammed together down by the fish market.”

“You mean by the inner port terminals?”

“That’s right. Right next to the military pier. Remember when that dog bit you?”

“At Dr. Tran’s house?”

Toi’s white teeth shone beneath his mercury sunglasses. “Remember how they had mountains of fertilizer and construction materials piled up there? Remind you of something?”

“A warehouse in the fish market not far from that terminal. Am I right?”

“To be more precise, a nuoc mam factory. I’ll bet you anything there are guns in those nuoc mam pots. Wow, we’ve found it. We’ve just hooked a whale. All we have to do now is pull.”

“I’m off-duty from here on out.”

“What does it matter?” Toi was driving skittishly, jerking the wheel recklessly. “I’ll let you have a grand sum when you leave for home.”

“I don’t need it. I’m just thinking about passing a tip to the captain before I get on board to ship out.”

Pham Minh walked inside the Banh Hao store. Gunnery sergeant Le Muong Panh, who had been sitting there, raised a hand in greeting. Pham Minh reported the types and quantities of goods, then added, “There are some pamphlets, too.”

“What kind?”

“A speech to be delivered at headquarters and also at Nguyen Ai Quoc School. For educational use of the members of local organizations.”

“Let’s go in.”

They gave the workers orders on how to handle the cargo and then passed across the yard to the office. Banh Hao, who was leafing through some papers, gave them a cheerful welcome.

“So, you’ve just arrived?”

“Yes, sir. The two machine guns are included. They’re light machine guns, sir.”

“The urgent thing now is for us to expedite supplies of rockets and mortar shells.”

“I’m aware of that, sir.”

“Soon with the rainy season there’ll be an offensive all over the country. We must fill those requisitions by then, without fail.”

“Comrade Nguyen is doing his best, sir. As you know, the supplies to the militias only include small arms. Heavier weapons are only released to the regular ARVN forces.”

“They come in every now and then,” said Le Muong Panh, “but it’s too irregular. We’ve got to open a supply source in the regular army.”

They had some tea together, then, out of the blue, Banh Hao asked, “The fourth company across the river will mount the attack on the air base, right?”

“I beg your pardon, sir?”

Because Pham Minh seemed puzzled, Le intervened, “Uncle, Comrade Pham is an undercover administrative agent, so he has not been participating in combat operations.”

“Oh, is that right?”

There was a brief silence. Pham Minh got to his feet. “I’d better be going now.”

“Say hello to Comrade Nguyen Thach for me.”

Pham Minh went over to the Hoitim Cafe in order to work up his daily calculations. He spotted Lieutenant Kiem sitting back in one corner.

As soon as Pham Minh sat down, Kiem lowered his voice and quickly said, “We’ve got to suspend things for the time being.” He peered around nervously and then continued, “A security officer and an unfamiliar civilian came in to the adjutant’s office. They said they wanted to see Major Pham and the governor. When I told them that both were away, they said they wanted to have a look around the warehouses, so I showed them the storage at the provincial office. Then they left, saying they would be coming back.”

“Maybe they were conducting an audit?”

“This is not the time of year for audits, you know that. They didn’t say a lot, but they sure acted high and mighty.”

“Where’s my brother?”

“He’s gone back up to Ha Thanh.”

“The cinnamon harvest is not done yet?”

“It’ll soon be finished, I heard.”

“What about the general?”

“He’s gone to Hue. He’ll probably be back tomorrow.”

Pham Minh thought for a while before speaking.

“Very well. We’ll stop everything for a few days. But I don’t think it’s anything so big. You know, the general is a direct relative of the president himself. Nobody can challenge his authority.”

He handed over a fat envelope to Lieutenant Kiem. “This is for yesterday’s.”

Kiem snatched the envelope and left the café in a rush. Without touching his coffee, no longer hot by this time, Minh was absorbed in thought for a while. He needed to put some distance between himself and Kiem. It was then that he heard the rustle of silk, and a white ahozai dress approached his table and then stopped. He looked up.

“Ah . . . you’re . . .”

“You don’t recognize me?”

The girl in the ahozai was Tran Van Phuoc. Pham Minh had met her a few times in the company of Chan Te Shoan.

“Mind if I sit down with you for a little while?”

Pham Minh straightened his posture and gestured with an open palm to the chair facing him.

“Mr. Pham Minh, what on earth happened to you, anyway? Do you know what the students behind you in school are calling you? A coward, a government army dog. Things like that.”

Pham Minh quietly said, “Did you sit down here just to say that?”

Phuoc smiled and then shook her head. “No, there’s more. Is it true that your leaving the NLF has something to do with your change of heart toward Shoan?”

“Nothing at all. You’ll have to excuse me.”

As he indignantly got up to leave, she quickly continued, “Shoan’s getting engaged today. I’m going to the ceremony right now. Any message for her?”

Pham Minh paused for a second, then just walked past the counter and out the front door of the café. From the violet interior, he had walked out into streets that seemed all grey. The humidity was getting worse and worse. The monsoon season with its daily downpours and hot, humid blasts of jungle air was just around the corner.

Pham Minh revved the accelerator of his motorbike all the way up and for a long time just flew down the school road with trees racing past on both sides. The loud whine of his engine bounced from muffler to the surface of the road, echoing far and wide. Recklessly, he whizzed around a last corner and skidded into Nguyen Thach’s maintenance shop. All the vehicles in the yard were gone, and in their place cement, fertilizer, slate, and other materials from the provincial office were stacked everywhere. The warehouse where Pham Minh had his office was now filled to the rafters with cinnamon, and they had just rented another additional warehouse over by the bus terminal. The current situation offered a ready excuse for Pham Minh to share office space with Nguyen Thach.

Thach was sitting inside with a puzzled expression on his face. Without speaking, he watched closely as Minh came in the office and plopped down on the sofa. Then Thach said, “Everyone in Da Nang must have been notified by now that Mr. Pham Minh is in a bad mood, eh?”

Pham Minh said nothing in reply. Thach picked up a newspaper and moved over to the armchair in the middle of the office. As he sat down, he asked, “Anything new?”

Pham Minh mentioned the meeting with Kiem. Then, unable to restrain himself any longer, he spat out more. “Sir, do you not trust me?”

Nguyen Thach was wide-eyed and at a loss.

“What do you mean, do I distrust you? You and I make a good team. We are one and the same.”

“Then why didn’t you let me know about the offensive to commence with the rainy season, or the assault on the air base in Da Nang by the reinforcement troops. The members across the river had the information before I did.”

A cold look returned to Thach’s face. “Ah, that was because Comrade Pham has a crucial mission to carry out.”

“I, too, will join the offensive. I cannot loiter in the markets any longer.”

“That mission is in fact to take part in the operation.”

“Sir?”

“It will not be the Fourth Reinforcement Company which will attack the air base. The main force is a regular army commando unit coming down out of the mountains. Our fourth company will be conducting a diversionary operation elsewhere near the air base. Comrade Pham, you will have to guide the commando unit as it infiltrates through Dong Dao to an advantageous spot for the attack. You should know that area better than anybody else, since you, Comrade, are in the air force, are you not?”

“I am to guide them, sir?”

“The route and point of attack will soon be fixed. This is an important mission. We may suffer annihilation.”

“The target?”

“Enemy Phantom jets. While the Paris talks drag on, we must keep up military pressure on the enemy. And now you, a cell member, are angry because you had no explanation from above?”

“Ah ... I was wrong, sir.”

Pham Minh hung his head very low, then suddenly, as if he had just remembered something, he looked up and said, “I know a safe house very close to the air base, sir. We can make it inside the house without anybody noticing and wait there for nightfall.”

“Good idea. What’s its location, roughly?”

“In Son Dinh village.”

“That’s . . .”

“Right. It’s the residence of our teacher, Trinh.”

Nguyen Thach evaded Pham Minh’s glance.

“No, not there.”

“Do you know him, sir?”

“He was the principal of our grammar school in the old days. I was a member of his Buddhist Students Association.”

“But, why not? Don’t you trust him?”

“It’s not that. Many of the senior officers in the NLF also greatly respect him.”

“Then, let’s drop it.”

“Who said anything about dropping it?” Thach shouted. “If you had not brought it up, I might not have remembered. I don’t know “

Thach stopped himself. Then he sat silently with his eyes trained on the newspaper. Minh spoke.

“Correct me, please.”

“What’s wrong with you today, anyway?” Thach asked, his face concealed behind the paper.

“I got rather agitated over a personal matter, sir.”

“What sort of personal matter?”

Minh tried his best to speak in a calm voice. “I ran into a student from school who said the other students are saying that I’m a coward who deserted the NLF. And then she told me that Shoan is getting engaged to somebody else.”

Thach put down the newspaper. His eyes were bloodshot. “It can’t be helped, really. I, too, had a similar experience. Your mention of Shoan made me recall a certain girl I knew when I was in the Buddhist Students Association. Congratulate them from the bottom of your heart, that’ll make you feel better. After that, promise yourself that the children they bear will inherit a proud and free country, and with that, go out and fight bravely. That is what I meant when I said that love and revolution share the same path.”

“I’d better go back to the fish market, sir,” Minh said, heaving a long sigh.

“I appreciate your telling me,” said Thach. “Neither of us seems to have the time for marriage. Go and speak with Mr. Trinh. And also check out the situation in Son Dinh village.”

All day long the clouds had been heavy and low, and that night the rain began to pour down. From the mountains in the distance came the sound of thunder, a sound not at all like that of bombs. When the lightning flashed, it was more beautiful than the light from a flare rocket. The monsoon season had begun. Along the coast, the weather was cooling off and the fog was getting heavier.

In accordance with orders, at 2200 hours Pham Minh went outside to get an emergency communication line ready. As a precaution, he was wearing an air force work uniform. The infiltration route for the commandos had been planned to begin from Phu Hoa, passing from there through the forest between Dong Dao and Ap Dai La, and then they would rendezvous on the hillside just west of Son Dinh. The meeting signal was to be made by striking a wood block: two sets of three beats with an interval in between, followed by many rapid beats in a row. The response would be a single beat followed by a pause followed by many rapid beats.

It was raining hard and in the pitch darkness you could not see your own hand in front of your face. The cold rain seemed to soak through your entire body, making you feel numb. Pham Minh scaled the hill from the village and crawled through the bamboo. Lizards could be heard scurrying about nearby. He stretched his legs out between some bamboo stalks and lay there on the mushy ground. The place reminded him of Atwat, up by the Ho Chi Minh Trail. He thought of the young men who had died namelessly in the jungle, their bones left there to rot.

Ah, and he thought of Shoan, engaged to an elderly merchant. Her parents must have felt greatly relieved. Like his own father, who died of a heart attack in a bathtub in the midst of the struggle against France, would they also lead happy existences disconnected from larger history? No, what Nguyen Thach said had been right, he should congratulate them, and fight so their children can grow up in a better nation. No, that was nonsense. What he ought to have done is tell Shoan his true feelings and persuade her to take the same path he had taken. But that was an ideal only for those with that destiny. Shoan—her name, recalling the jasmine of old Tonkin, was most fitting—had been to Trinh’s house just the day before he came. Hadn’t the doctor’s daughter made a joke of it? “Shoan was here just yesterday, so did you two make a date to come separately?” That was it, Shoan had wanted to go there the day before her engagement.

That night before Minh left for Atwat, that gorgeous night with its beautiful stream of shooting stars one after another, would never come again. When he had gone out to the backyard with a desolate heart, he had found a white ramie handkerchief lying inside the air raid shelter, filling it with the fragrance of canna. From ancient days, the women of Turen have been renowned for loving only one man in their lives. When their beloved set out; on a journey to a distant place, they would make a kerchief from their torn slip and give it to him as a memento.

Pham Minh was suddenly startled. Through the shish of the rain pouring down through the bamboo he heard the sharp, clear sound of a wood block being struck. In the jungle, a bamboo stick and wood block took the place of wireless sets as the main means of communication. Pham Minh became all ears. The signal was repeated. Quickly he sat up and struck his own wood block. Again there was silence. Minh stared into the darkness to try to make out something moving through the bamboo. Then there was a click and something jutted into his back.

As he turned around to look, a man lifted his gun up and growled, “Don’t move. Your name and unit?”

“Pham Minh, assistant agent with Third Company, 434th Special Action Group.”

“Any changes?”

“None.”

“The safe house?”

“Son Dinh, just down there.”

“Well done, Comrade.”

The soldier fumbled to grab Pham Minh’s hand and helped him up. He blew a short whistle, and the commando squad appeared from out of the darkness. There were ten in all. A man appearing to be the leader came forward and shook hands with Pham Minh. They were fully equipped with AK47 rifles, rocket launchers, and light machine guns. Some were bareheaded; others wore peasant hats with round brims. All were clad in black Vietnamese clothing and, instead of raincoats, they wore vinyl capes of various colors over their shoulders, as Pham Minh had in Atwat.

The advance guard and Pham Minh led the way and the others followed noiselessly in dispersion. Like water, they seeped silently into Trinh’s house. Two of the soldiers remained posted as guards at the front and back doors of the house. The moment they went inside, they heard a match strike and there appeared the white hair and beard of old Trinh. Very calmly, he lit a candle.

Pham Minh bowed to him politely, and said, “Forgive me, Uncle. I should have told you in advance.”

“You did mention that some friends of yours might come by. These are them? Come in, please. It’s been a long time since I’ve had young people in the house.”

Under the light, the commando leader looked to be a middle-aged man. His short hair made him look even more strong-willed and full of confidence.

“Pardon us, sir, for causing you inconvenience. Members of the army of the Democratic Republic of Vietnam, we fight today as a liberation force under the command of the People’s Revolutionary Party in the south. Would it be all right if we stay in your place until we can safely leave to accomplish our mission?”

“Have you eaten yet?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then please sit down and rest yourselves.”

“Thank you, sir.”

The soldiers, following the leader’s gesture, quietly sat down with their backs against the wall. Nobody opened their mouth. The leader sat beside Pham Minh.

“Based on our reconnaissance from the mountaintop, we have made our own rough estimate of the situation. Tell us about the infiltration route.”

“Heading up north from Son Dinh along the rice paddies, you’ll run into a stream. It runs south to the Thu Bon River, but if you go north upstream for about two kilometers you’ll reach Ap Dai La. From there to the perimeter fence around the air base is less than a mile. Of course, there’s some danger of ambush. We’ll have to identify any guards along the path in advance and take them out. Once that’s done, it’ll be no problem.”

When they heard the sound of heavy gunfire and cannons, the soldiers picked up their weapons and headed outside before any order was given. The diversion operations had begun at various points around Da Nang.

They stooped low and fanned out as they made their way across the rice paddies. Thinking to himself that the farmers would forgive them for trampling the rice shoots, Pham Minh hurried to keep up with the point man. At last they reached the stream. Normally, the water level was down around ankle-high, but with the recent heavy rains it had risen to chest level. In case anything went wrong with the operation, they all agreed to jump in the water and float back to this point. Then they crossed and raced up north along the levee on the far side of the stream. The rain was still pouring down. After about an hour, they all reached the hill overlooking the air base from which they would mount the attack.

The advance soldier mounted first to check on any ambush. When he returned and reported the way was clear, they all headed up onto the hill. The air base was brightly lit with searchlights and landing lights. Each of the soldiers took two rocket shells out of his patched vinyl knapsack and these were gathered together. With small field shovels, they hurriedly began to dig a trench in the wet earth. An hour passed as they completed the digging, the trench was shallow and a man of ordinary height standing in the bottom would find the ground level at his stomach, but it was large enough that everyone’s entire body could fit down inside. There were twenty rockets to be launched, but it was very unlikely that enemy artillery would remain quiet that whole time. Their plan was to retreat in the lull after the initial round of the counterattack.

Two rocket launchers were set up at either end of the trench. These launchers were simple, nothing more than a gadget resembling a tube as long as your arm. They could even be fired while the shooter and loader were on the move. The preparations had been completed. The leader gave the order “Fire!” in a quiet voice. With a sound of Ka-wump the first rocket was away, whistling as it went with flames shooting behind. The first was immediately followed by a second. A pillar of flames could be seen rising from the middle of the air base. Then, an emergency siren went off. They continued firing. Within two minutes, enemy artillery was beginning to target them.

“All have been fired, sir!”

“Stay down!”

Shells were hitting all over the hill. It was Pham Minh’s first experience under heavy explosive fire. The shock from the blasts made his face swell up and he thought his skin might burst. He buried his face in the dirt, his mouth gaping open and his hands cupped over his ears to shield them.

As soon as the barrage stopped, the leader shouted, “Retreat, now!”

They leapt and practically rolled down the hill, then jumped into the stream and drifted down on the rapid current. By the time they made it back to the path through the rice fields, helicopters could be heard overhead, but they were not afraid. On such a night, there was no way for the helicopters to locate them as they lay down among the rice plants. If they attempted to fly in low they would respond with light machine guns. Whenever a helicopter fired a flare, they hit the ground, waited it out, and then got up and ran on. Finally they reached the forest near Son Dinh and paused for a rest. Four men were missing. They must have been lost during the bombardment up on the hill. One man, apparently wounded in the leg, was being carried by two comrades. The leader came up to Pham Minh and grabbed him by the shoulders.

“We made it. From here, we’ll head straight to our base. Good-bye. Long live Vietnamese Liberation!”

With the break of the new day, a state of emergency was declared for the entire city of Da Nang and its environs. The questioning at checkpoints became more intense and barricades were set up at every corner in the city. American soldiers were not allowed to leave their bases unless they were armed. The American headquarters belatedly realized that the enemy had commenced its usual rainy season offensive. The attack on the air base had destroyed two Phantom jets and burned up the conex box. The operation had been a major success. Pham Minh purposely went in to his air force unit the next morning and took part in the repair work on the runway. Later, when he returned to the office, Nguyen Thach told him to take a few days off and get some rest at home. Thach was clearing off his desk before heading out to make a detailed report to the district committee.

“How are you?” said a familiar voice.

Thach saw a pair of silver mirrored sunglasses as Toi stepped in through the door. Outside it was still raining. Toi removed his glasses, put them in the case hanging on his belt, and plopped down on the couch across from Thach’s desk. Wearing a look of displeasure, Thach gazed at him.

“What business brought you here?”

“Ah, I was just passing by and stopped in to see how your business is going.”

Thach frowned. “As you can see, my brother is getting so prosperous that I’m washing my hands of my old business,” said Thach, looking around his own office as if it were a strange place. “What can I do for you? I was about to leave.”

Toi glared back at him, squinting his one good eye.

“I’ve come to talk something over with you. Because I can’t make up my mind.”

Nguyen Thach looked over at Toi with a blank expression.

“I’ve come across certain information recently.” Toi continued. “That young man, Major Pham’s younger brother, has he already gone home?”

“Get to the point.”

“All right. I discovered that you and he are the ones in charge of NLF supplies in Da Nang.”

“Is that all? I suppose you’ll want a list of all the merchants dealing with the NLF? I advise you to go out into the market and ask around. Everybody will cooperate with you, I’m sure.”

Toi sneered. “You won’t get away with such a predictable answer. They’re just merchants, but you two are NLF cell members. I know you’re constantly siphoning war supplies intended for the militias. What are you up to at the nuoc mam factory down in the fish market? What do you have inside those urns?”

Thach raised his hand to cut Toi off. “That’s enough. What is it you’re after?”

“Fifty thousand dollars. In mainland cash.”

“You don’t expect me to have that kind of money here now? Besides, that work is my brother’s. I had no choice but to help him. He’s been a member of the revolutionary party from way back.”

“Really? Even better. He can easily cough up ten truckloads of cinnamon. And I suppose Major Pham is his partner for these deals?”

“I can have the money ready by this time tomorrow, what do you say?”

Toi snickered. “You think you can fool me with such childish gibberish? Then you could clean up all the evidence overnight. Don’t worry, I know very well. I can’t arrest you yet. Why not write me a promissory note? Then I’ll give you until tomorrow.”

Nguyen Thach stared at him for a long while and then reached to open a drawer in the desk.

“Don’t do anything rash.”

In a flash Toi pulled out his .38 and leveled it at him. Calmly, Thach took out a paper and wrote on it. Then he signed and even sealed the note before handing it over to Toi.

“Will this do?”

Toi scrutinized the note and then stepped backward.

“If you fail to pay, I’ll use this to open an investigation on you. The Vietnamese secret police can make even a stone spill its guts.”

Nguyen Thach remained seated at his desk even after he heard Toi’s Jeep pull away. He lit a cigarette and smoked it all the way down to the filter. Then he picked up the telephone. On the other end was Pham Minh.

“Minh? It’s me, Nguyen Thach. We’ve had a mishap. Yes, rather serious. Keep out of sight today. No time for that. Don’t hang around the fish market, and report back to me by phone later. I’m sure we’ll solve the problem soon. If not, your duty can continue under someone else. Anyway, nothing to be too alarmed about. I’ll contact you soon.”

Suddenly his motions became very swift. He dumped everything out of his desk, and sorted out the papers from the small memos to the receipts. Then he checked the time. It was seven. On a clear day it would have been twilight, but outside it was already dark.

Toi arrived at his home, located off Le Loi Boulevard near the new market, around nine o’clock. He’d had a few drinks at the Bamboo Club and was in an exuberant mood. The lights were all out except in the living room. There was no answer when he rang the doorbell. Had everyone gone to sleep? Grumbling, he gave a light kick to the wooden gate on the side of the house. It swung open without a sound. Still grumbling, he unlatched the door and went into the house. The moment he entered, he found the muzzle of a gun pressed right against his forehead.

“So, in the habit of coming home drunk? Nice leisurely life you have here.”

Meeting these jeers, Toi quickly peered about. A man was sitting in the chair right in front of him, another stood in the doorway to the interior, and the third was holding the gun on him. All three were armed.

“Who are you people?”

“Shut up! Get down on your knees!”

The man next to Toi forced him to kneel in front of the seated figure.

“My family . . .” Toi stammered.

“Don’t worry. They’re all in the back room. Who do you suppose we are?”

“NLF.”

“Not bad. And what do you do for a living? You’re a traitor. We’re here to hold a summary court-martial. First, after finishing your military duty as a conscript, you volunteered to work for enemy intelligence headquarters. Worse, that enemy is a foreign power. Second, ignoring the struggle of all the people of Vietnam today, you’ve been spying on and disrupting the historical mission of the NLF. Finally, you used the fruits of your treachery to try to extort money from a patriot and you threatened his life. Therefore, in the name of the People of Vietnam, the Quang Nam District Committee of the National Liberation Front hereby sentences you to death.”

Having spoken thus, the man turned and looked in turn at the two others. Both repeated the word “death,” as if to underscore it. Toi had no time even to attempt any excuses. The man in front of him spoke again.

“We shall make no compromises with a shameless scoundrel like you. Because ours is the righteous path.”

The man standing beside Toi swung his arm, and Toi’s mouth fell all the way open. Then he looked down at his own belly and fell sideways. A sharpened bamboo stick was jammed deep into his stomach. They had followed the method of execution used by the guerrillas out in the villages. After searching Toi’s fallen body and retrieving the note, they quickly fled from the house. Across the street, a van turned on its headlights and they got inside. Nguyen Thach drove away. One of the men handed him the piece of paper.

“Tear it up,” said Thach.

“What next, sir?”

“I guess it’s time to go underground,” Nguyen Thach answered brightly.

It was nine forty-five when the Korean investigation office received a call from the police. The recently arrived new chief sergeant took the call and then shouted, “I think they’re looking for you, sir.”

“All right, I’ll take it in my office,” the captain replied.

A few moments later the captain came back out, searching for Ahn Yong Kyu.

“Get dressed and get your weapon. And you, Sergeant, better come with us.”

“Sir? What about the boys . . . ?”

“The three of us will do. Toi’s been murdered.”

“What?!”

“That was the police, calling from the scene.”

Yong Kyu picked up a semi-automatic carbine with a folding aluminum stock that had belonged to the old chief sergeant. He also grabbed two clips, each holding thirty rounds.

“Where?”

“His house.”

There were three Vietnamese police cars parked in front of Toi’s house. When they rushed inside, a familiar police chief saluted the captain. Toi’s wife, his children and his old mother were all huddled together crying. Yong Kyu stayed in the hall, looking down at Toi’s corpse. It was the first time he saw Toi’s face up close without those mirrored mercury sunglasses. His mouth was gaping widely as though he were howling with laughter. His blind eye stared into space. The bamboo spear had been pulled from his body and lay beside him, drenched in blood like some living thing.

“It was guerrillas, sir. According to the wife, they broke into the house at around 2000, vaulting the fences from three sides. Then, she said, they held a summary court-martial. The crime they charged him with was helping you people. They also said the victim had tried to blackmail them.”

After listening to the report, Yong Kyu said to the captain, “I know who killed him. Let’s go and get him.”

“What in the hell are you talking about?”

In a fury, Yong Kyu pointed out through the gate with his carbine and shouted, “I say we go and get those VC!”

As Yong Kyu ran outside, the police chief asked the captain, “What’s that all about?”

“He told me he knows where the guerrillas are who did this.”

The chief gave orders to two of his policemen and they then hurried outside followed by four others. Yong Kyu got in the Jeep, and sat there without a word.

“Where are we headed?” the captain asked Yong Kyu.

“To the fish market, down by the pier.”

The Vietnamese police followed right behind them. When they reached the customs house, Yong Kyu turned and parked the Jeep at the square before the fish market. Empty wooden crates were stacked up everywhere, but there was no sign of people in the rainy streets.

“See that vacant lot down that alley?” Yong Kyu asked. “By that white wall? They’re two entrances, a big door out front and a side door from that vacant lot.”

As the captain repeated Yong Kyu’s words to the Vietnamese police chief, Yong Kyu dashed ahead into the alley, calling back, “Cover me, Sergeant!”

Yong Kyu crept up next to the door of the factory with the sergeant close behind him. The door opened a little. One at a time they ran inside. Then two policemen followed them in, jumped over some baskets of salt and crates of fish, heading for the middle of the building. Another policeman hit the lights. Two lamps hanging from the ceiling came on. Yong Kyu kicked the door on the side leading to the storeroom. The lamps were pouring light that way, but nothing could be seen except a row of nuoc mam urns. From the other side of the storeroom, a policeman opened the door and entered. The captain was looking on from behind them.

“Nobody around?”

“We’re too late. Toi and I knew about this place.”

Yong Kyu cracked one of the urns with the butt of his gun. The nuoc mam poured out, revealing gun stocks inside. The police chief and his men started breaking the other pots.

“All of them have guns inside,” said Yong Kyu as he walked outside.

“Why hadn’t you reported this yet?” asked the captain.

“We were conducting a secret investigation, sir. Call in some reinforcement, please.”

“Call the Americans?”

“Never mind. I’ll speak to him.” Yong Kyu went over to talk to the police chief who was enthusiastically smashing a row of urns.

“There’s another houseful of guerrillas across from Bai Bang. Call in some reinforcement.”

“Right. We’ll go together.”

They went back out to the parked vehicles. The police chief radioed to his headquarters. A short while later, two trucks arrived with backup police power.

“Divide up the forces and send some to Nguyen Cuong Company in old Le Loi market,” said Yong Kyu. “Have them also search the car repair shop behind the store. Now, follow us with the rest of your men.”

After crossing the smokestack bridge, they sped toward Bai Bang. The rain was pouring down on the windshields.

“You should have filled me in before you went off duty,” said the captain to Yong Kyu, looking straight ahead.

His hands locked on the steering wheel, Yong Kyu was peering at the shafts of rain frozen in mid-air by the Jeep’s headlights.

“I didn’t want to take the responsibility . . .”

“But now, have you changed your mind?”

“Toi was my partner, sir.”

What Yong Kyu was feeling then was entirely different from what he had felt at Stapley’s death. He had no way to identify with Stapley’s behavior. There had been no choice for him. Toi’s death, however, was a disgrace, like the ends of Korean soldiers whose limbs had been lopped off, or whose remains were carried off as heaps of ashes. Yong Kyu seemed angry with himself for feeling self-pity. Something hot was running down his face. I’m exhausted, Yong Kyu murmured to himself. His throat was throbbing.

Yong Kyu had only been to that alley once, but he remembered it well. He parked the car on the edge of the market on a street lined by small shops. As he got out the Jeep, the police chief came up to him.

“Their base is in the Banh Hao store.”

“Where is it?”

“In the middle of these shops. In back of the store there’s a warehouse and a residence.”

They crept up stealthily. The police chief led his men around to the house in the rear, and Yong Kyu and the captain, with a few policemen, gathered out front by the shuttered windows of the store. There was a wooden door in front, reinforced with tin sheets. Realizing there was no other way inside, they began to crack the shutters with their boots and rifle butts. The wood splintered noisily and the glass behind the shutters broke into pieces.

When they started trying to climb through, a spray of bullets came from automatic weapons on the inside. One of the policemen was hit and went down. Yong Kyu and the captain dashed inside and took cover behind some rice bushels, then returned fire towards the interior. Judging from the shooting noises, a fight was also raging at the house out back. As in the jungle, Yong Kyu kept on firing as he rushed over to the warehouse door. A policeman came up beside him, stuck his gun into the warehouse and fired. Another policeman meanwhile had pulled the ring on a grenade and lobbed it inside the storage area. There was an explosion and from inside, flames and smoke rushed out.

The first to enter the warehouse was a police lieutenant. Yong Kyu rushed right behind him, instinctively firing a burst of rounds at a spot from which he heard something. A mountain of flour sacks piled almost to the ceiling tumbled down, a man’s dark figure falling with it. A shaded light hanging from the ceiling was swaying back and forth. Yong Kyu’s shadow stretched onto the wall and then shrank again. Quickly he took aim at the form of the fallen man. The air was full of white dust raised by the torn flour sacks. The man stared up at Yong Kyu, who saw that it was the younger brother of Major Pham. An AK47 was lying on the floor near his bent arm. He stretched out his arm to try to grasp the rifle. Yong Kyu fired again. The man’s body twitched from the shock of taking close fire, and soon stopped moving. The flour bags beside him gradually turned red.

“Sergeant Ahn, are you all right?” came the captain’s voice behind him.

The police lieutenant was down by the door, gasping desperately. Another policeman who had followed Yong Kyu in was lying at the side door and firing into the inner quarters of the house. The captain and Yong Kyu carried the moaning lieutenant outside. After a while the gunfire ceased.

Two visitors arrived at the general’s villa in Bai Bang. They came in a khaki sedan for VIP use, dispatched from the American forces. It being early in the morning, the general was still in his bedroom. A staff sergeant with the security detail stopped them to check if they were armed. One of the two men wore a uniform without any rank insignia, and the other was in a white half-sleeve shirt and a pair of black pants. The man in uniform was holding up a black umbrella for the civilian and himself.

“I have to confirm your identities, sir,” said the staff sergeant.

The uniform took out a badge of the security forces from his back pocket and showed it to the staff sergeant. But the latter would not step back.

“The general is commander-in-chief of Quang Nam Province, sir. Whatever your unit affiliation may be, you should observe the proper security protocol, sir.”

“This gentleman is from Independence Palace. Get out of the way.”

As the uniform spoke thus, the civilian intervened in a gentlemanly tone, “Ah, leave him be. I’m from the military council.”

He took out an ID and handed it over to the staff sergeant. Freezing at attention, the staff sergeant still managed to salute with propriety. The civilian put his ID away and asked in a gentle voice, “May I see General Liam now, please?”

“Yes, sir, let me show you the way, sir.”

The staff sergeant walked like a robot to the front hall and pulled the rope. There came a low and heavy sound of a bell, and a butler dressed in a traditional cotton shirt opened the door.

“These gentlemen just came from Saigon,” said the staff sergeant. “They are here to see the general.”

The butler bowed politely and stepped aside. The civilian took a long look at the luxurious interior decor, then walked over to a sofa and sat down. The uniform stood in one corner in a posture of parade rest. The general came down the stairs in his bathrobe. The civilian got up slowly and spoke with a smile on his face.

“It’s been a long time since we last met, sir.”

They shook hands.

“And what brings you here?”

At the general’s question, the civilian scanned the living room once more. “A very nice place you’re living in, sir.”

Noticing that the general’s glance was riveted on the uniformed man standing in the corner, the civilian spoke to the uniform.

“Why don’t you come over here and have a seat?”

Only then did the uniform salute the general.

“As I understand it, Colonel, your unit is in Hoi An, isn’t it?”

“Yes, sir. But I’ve been assigned to escort the Cabinet member here.”

The butler brought in morning coffee.

“Has some emergency arisen?” asked the general, raising his cup.

“We have a big problem. Recently the National Liberation Front issued a statement, and its content appeared in a few newspapers in Saigon. The statement, issued in the name of Immi Allero, chairman of the People’s Autonomy Movement in the highlands of Quang Nam Province, criticizes the recent operations in the districts of Ha Thanh and An Hoa.”

The general began to raise his voice. “That’s no more than typical enemy propaganda, isn’t it?”

“The problem is, sir, that the commanding officers in the area gave out arbitrary orders to massacre the Katu, one of the highland tribes.”

At those words from the civilian, the general finally got to his feet and started pacing about the room.

“You mean to tell me you’ve come here with a local problem like that? Does the military council have a shortage of work to do?”

“Sir, no need to get excited, please. The military council had discussed this problem in the presence of His Excellency, the President, as well as the vice-president. We’ve reached the conclusion that this is something that must be handled quietly within the council. The reason I came here is to take care of that problem, sir. Independence Palace had received several different kinds of grievances concerning the enterprises conducted by the government office of Quang Nam Province. His Excellency the President himself understands you, sir.

“It’s been several days since I arrived here. I’ve investigated the points raised in the complaint letters and also checked the validity of the enemy propaganda concerning the operations in An Hoa. As for the deployment of materials for the phoenix hamlets project and the cinnamon operations . . . they can be settled within the council, but we have determined that the massacre of the Katu tribe must be handled publicly. Of course, you, sir, will not bear responsibility for anything. Your successor will have to deal with all the aftermath.”

The general seemed somewhat relieved, and he lit his pipe and sat down on a chair again.

“What do you mean successor ... are you telling me I should resign from the provincial governorship?”

“You’ve been requested to join the Cabinet, sir. Except, just until the situation is quietly settled down, take a six-month trip abroad, please.”

“When am I to leave?”

“Leave for Saigon today, sir. Until the successor arrives, I’ll stay at the provincial office and try to take care of things there. And . . .”

He signaled with his eyes to the uniform sitting next to him. “A man named Pham Quyen is your chief adjutant, isn’t he, sir? It’s inevitable that he be punished.”

As he spoke he took out several documents. “This is an indictment filed by Lieutenant Colonel Quia, a battalion commander who previously was in charge of Second Division operations in Ha Thanh. He sent this to the military council and to Independence Palace. And this other document is a report on the phoenix hamlets project submitted by the late Colonel Cao, the former police superintendent in Da Nang. Based on these documents we’ll be able to sort out the persons to be punished. We were hoping that you’d give us a little of your time and cooperate with the colonel, sir.”

The general agreed wholeheartedly. “I understand. Shall we to go to my study together?”

“On this visit, I’ve become deeply interested in cinnamon, sir,” said the civilian.

“Central Vietnam has been famous for its cinnamon crop from the old days,” said the general quite nonchalantly as he headed up the stairs. “That’s something His Excellency, the President himself, is very much aware of.”

When the Governor entered into the office of the chief adjutant a little later than his usual office hours, Major Pham and a private were the only ones on duty in the office. Lieutenant Kiem’s desk was vacant. As the two men stood to attention and saluted, the general walked quietly into the governor’s office. Of the two men who’d followed him in, the one in civilian dress spoke bluntly to Pham Quyen in a low form of speech. “You, are you Major Pham Quyen?”

“That’s right, but . . .”

Abruptly, the uniformed man standing next to the civilian slapped Pham Quyen in the face. “Speak like a soldier.”

Pham Quyen knew very well who the man without any rank insignia was. In spite of himself, Pham Quyen stretched up into an erect posture.

“Take this bastard in at once,” said the civilian.

“Where’s Kiem?” asked the uniform as he snapped handcuffs on Major Pham’s wrists.

“He’s not in yet, sir,” answered the private on duty.

“Arrest everyone involved and search their houses thoroughly,” said the civilian.

As soon as he was pushed out into the corridor, Pham Quyen saw the officers from the security department of Da Nang district standing there. They thrust Pham Quyen into a covered Jeep. He still knew nothing of Pham Minh’s death, neither was there any way for him to know that Lieutenant Kiem had set out for Atwat and was long gone.

The forklifts were lifting up boxes and piling them neatly on the crane cradle. When the limited space was filled, the naval crane lifted the loads of cargo up high and then lowered them down into the open hold beneath the ship’s deck. One load of cargo that had been lifted up to the level of the vessel’s deck suddenly tilted to one side, dropping a few crates onto the ground. There was the deafening sound of a whistle. The stevedores stopped their work. The boxes of coarse plywood had broken apart when they fell, and the contents were strewn all over on the concrete.

Several owners of the boxes rushed forward in a fluster. Without uttering a complaint, they ran here and there after their scattered articles and gathered them up. Left over C-ration tins, saved-up paper sacks of powdered milk, cartons of cigarettes, American military uniforms and jungle boots, and occasional electrical appliances with labels like Sony, Akai, National, Sanyo, Sharp, or Hitachi.

Meanwhile, on the square out in front of the pier, the soldiers about to depart for home were receiving an inspection of their equipment in preparation for the departure ceremony. There were prominent officials from the city administration of Da Nang, military officers. A big contingent of middle school girls wearing white ahozai and broad-brimmed hats, waving bouquets of flowers and the national flags of the two countries was sure to appear on the scene. The military band would strike up the national anthems of both countries as well as of the other allies, and innumerable photos would be snapped from every conceivable angle.

With the boarding and the freight loading yet to be finished, the ship would not be ready to sail until dawn the next morning. Ahn Yong Kyu left the square and walked down toward the open cafe near the customs house. Having ordered a drink, he sat on a chair watching this unfamiliar city with a detached mind.

Out of the sea of camouflage uniforms worn by the departing soldiers, a white dress fluttering in the wind was gradually approaching. The woman was wearing sunglasses, but one still could tell she was a beauty. Yong Kyu almost waved his hand and called out to her, but turned around instead. The woman stepped in between the sidewalk tables and walked about peeking in here and there along the line of sunshade umbrellas. Yong Kyu heard her voice from behind.

“So you’ve been sitting here?”

“How have you been?”

Hae Jong removed her sunglasses. “You know, I’ve been looking for you for quite a while.”

“Looking for me?” Yong Kyu replied absentmindedly.

“You’re too much. I tried to contact you several times, but you didn’t call me back.”

“Your house is . . .”

“I’m at the Thanh Thanh. It’s not the same room as before, though. I came out here to send some baggage back home, and as long as I’m here I thought I would ask a favor of you.”

“Baggage? But you don’t have a transit allowance, do you?”

“Ah, I got an allowance from the captain,” Hae Jong said lightheartedly. Then she took out a small gift-wrapped box from her handbag and placed it on the table.

“Here’s a souvenir.”

“What is it?”

“A watch. A cheap one.”

Yong Kyu took it quietly. Then, in an indifferent tone, he said, “Aren’t you going home?”

Hae Jong shook her head. “No, not me. But I am planning to leave here in a few days.”

“Where to?”

“I’ll go to Hong Kong. Sister Lin asked me to.”

“You made a lot of money, didn’t you?”

“A wee bit, only enough to open a small pub.”

“How’s Major Pham?”

She hung her head. Then without looking up, she said, “I was a little shocked. I’m all right now, though. The investigation is still underway, but since they’re all in the same boat, I suppose there’ll be a demotion and transfer, something along those lines.”

Hae Jong dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief and then held up her hand again.

“His younger brother . . . was a very gentle young man . . .”

Yong Kyu looked back in the direction of the pier, where the military band had struck up another tune. The flags in the hands of the schoolgirls were fluttering in the breeze. Hae Jong spoke.

“The favor I have to ask is this. You see, I’ve already shipped the baggage. This is the consignment number and that is the bill of lading. When you land in Pusan, I’d like you to have a forwarding company deliver the things to this address. Here’s the money. That’s all.”

“Sure, I’ll do that.”

Yong Kyu took from her a piece of paper on which was written some address in Uijeongbu where Hae Jong’s mother and younger siblings were living.

“Good-bye.”

Hae Jong got up. Yong Kyu nodded. The review ceremony seemed to have begun, for the anthems of the allies had changed to a march. Yong Kyu put money on the table and got to his feet. Across the street, he saw the fluttering train of a white skirt vanishing into the crowd. He walked back toward the ship. The thought of going somewhere and drinking until dawn no longer seemed attractive. He did not want to run into any of the faces he had known in Vietnam.