Back at camp that evening, Tâm and the three men waited in line at the side of a makeshift table in the clearing. The rest of the recruits occupied the hammocks. Nam was behind the table, on which lay certificates and medals. Tâm, somewhat embarrassed at the attention, looked down, but Chinh, who by some miracle was uninjured, stood proudly, his chest puffed out. Trai and Hiền, whose arm had been broken and was now encased in a cast and sling, stood behind Chinh, both with wide grins. They’d been jubilant since the return trip to camp, practically glowing from the praise and admiration of their fellow recruits.
Tâm and Chinh were more sober. While Tâm was grateful they were all still alive, the weight of what she’d done brought back the horror of the village massacre. Informants among the villagers near the camp told Nam the vehicle they’d destroyed was American. It was carrying four soldiers to the provincial capital for a meeting with their South Vietnamese counterparts. Tâm didn’t regret the explosion. The Americans who annihilated her village had done far worse, taking the lives of not four, but ten times as many, including her family. And their bombing campaign was killing thousands of innocent Vietnamese who only wanted to be left alone to live their lives. No, she didn’t regret killing the four men in the truck. But with the success of the mission, she could no longer accept that she was more principled than the enemy. She had descended to the same level of violence, bloodshed, and killing. She, too, was now complicit in murder. Which made her no better than the enemy. And yet she was being honored.
Nam cut into her thoughts. “We honor these fighters. For their bravery, ingenuity, and loyalty beyond the call of duty.” He recounted their mission and plan, how they’d come up with the diversion of the oxcart. He emphasized how they had all worked together—equally—as a team. How the spirit of belonging to a group that was bigger than each individual, the essence of Communism, had guided them. Tâm wished he’d stop. “For all those reasons we honor all four of you.” He called each of them in turn.
“Biên, please step forward.”
Tâm shuffled forward. Nam draped a medal on a ribbon around her neck and handed her a rolled-up certificate tied with string. “We rarely give out medals to our recruits. But I knew you were special. Your work proves it.” Then he called Chinh and gave him the same medal and certificate. Boisterous cheers and applause rang out. Tâm and Chinh exchanged a glance. Tâm was surprised to see he looked as embarrassed as she. Nam repeated the ritual with the boys, whose unfettered pride and joy in being recognized made Tâm smile. When all four stood in front of the table, Nam said, “Please show your appreciation, comrades.”
Most of the recruits were younger, like Trai and Hiền, and responded with cheers, whistles, and shouts. Nam had to signal them to quiet down.
“Tomorrow morning you will receive your assignments. I want you to know the NLF appreciates you and welcomes you into our family. We will survive the atrocities of imperialist America and its allies.” He paused. “Now, go take the night off. We meet back here tomorrow at six am.”
The group dispersed. Tâm took off the medal around her neck and headed to her tent. Packing would take about thirty seconds. Except for her AK-47, knife, and sandals, which she now wore all the time, she had very few possessions—just one change of clothes.
She was exhausted. They’d returned at midday and between reporting in, debriefing Nam, and the ceremony, she’d had no sleep. Now she arranged the mosquito netting above her mat, looking forward to a long rest. Her tent mate, Chi, snored lightly. Tâm lay down, still in her clothes, and for the first time in more than twenty-four hours, she felt her body finally relax. She was dozing, on the edge of sleep, when she heard a scratching outside.
By instinct she grabbed her rifle. Nam had told them wild animals attracted by leftover food sometimes prowled the area.
She sat up, unzipped the tent’s flap, and chambered a round. She pushed the barrel of the AK-47 out first.
“Biên. Don’t shoot! It’s only me,” a male voice whispered.
Chinh. She cautiously stuck her head out. “What are you doing here?”
He stepped forward unsteadily and squatted at the opening of the tent. “Nam gave me a pint of Jim Beam. We only drank a little and there is much left. I want to share it with you.”
She frowned.
As if he knew her thoughts, he said, “Come with me. It is only fitting. We may hate the Americans, but they do make a fine whiskey.”
Tâm wasn’t sure this was a good idea, and she desperately needed sleep, but she didn’t want to disappoint Chinh—or so she told herself. Without a sound she scrambled out of the tent. As they walked past the six tents she’d seen when she arrived at camp, she saw six more. Again they were the same colors as the surrounding leaves, bushes, and jungle foliage.
“I didn’t know these were here. They are so well camouflaged,” she whispered.
He pointed. “And there are six more behind those.”
“Very clever.” They approached the third tent. “What about your tent mate?
“I have no tent mate. I would raise hell if I did. The tents are hardly big enough for one person.”
“I have a tent mate. Another woman,” she said. Because they know the women won’t complain. Vaguely irritated, she pointed to the bottle. “Give that to me. He looked surprised but handed it over. She took a swig and nearly spit it out. It was hot. Brazen. Almost spicy. She let it slide down her throat. She downed another slug. She felt suddenly warm.
“Hey, save some for me. Let’s go inside.”
“I thought you said it wasn’t big enough.”
“We will make it work.”
She knew what he wanted. She looked him in the eye. “This will be my first time.”
He stroked her hair. “Then I am glad it will be me.”
Afterward, Tâm was too. It wasn’t love; she knew that. It was the release from having lived through life-threatening danger. Not knowing from minute to minute if she’d be blown to bits. It was a celebration of survival. Of life. For the first time in weeks she let herself relax, his arm across her chest. She soon dropped into a deep sleep.