Tâm deserted her unit and left her truck for another Communist driver. She spent the next two months trapped between the elation of love and the despair of war. The American carpet-bombing campaign intensified, killing and wounding many fighters on the Hồ Chí Minh Trail. Fighters in the Cu Chi tunnels were forced to take cover underground for days. This time the continuous bomb attacks succeeded well beyond earlier efforts to destroy the tunnels, and couriers reported significant cave-ins and exposure throughout the tunnel network.
Still, the Long Hairs squad led by Bảo pushed south, covering a few miles a day underground. Tâm went with them. She carried her AK-47 and her utility knife with her gear, and Bảo promised to teach her how to fire an antiaircraft gun. They were headed to the Iron Triangle. The area would be a launching pad for further antiaircraft activity. Along the way they emerged from the tunnels at night to shoot down what they could.
Which left plenty of hours when they weren’t sleeping, fighting, or heading south. Tâm and Bảo took advantage of that time, hiding in recessed alcoves and tunnel dead ends to make love. Tâm couldn’t get enough of Bảo, and Bảo seemed to feel the same way. Tâm became accustomed to Bảo’s warm body beside, beneath, or on top of her and felt bereft when they were separated. Her passion exploded when she touched Bảo. Running her hands down Bảo’s body, inhaling her scent, tasting her skin, filled her with a desire she’d never felt, not even with Chinh. Her first efforts were shy and tentative, but Bảo, who clearly had more experience, taught her what to do, and their lovemaking quickly became fiery and wanton.
After their trysts, they talked. About their wonder at finding each other during a time when death and destruction reigned. About their progress over the South and the U.S. About their plans for their lives after the war.
Bảo turned on her flashlight and shot Tâm a smile that was both sad and joyous. “I want to spend my life with you, Tâm.”
“I do, as well. But why do you seem sad?”
“There is much to do before we can lay down our arms.”
Tâm snuggled closer to Bảo. “What about your family? What will they say if you bring home a woman as your partner?”
Bảo paused for a moment. “They will not be happy. But I hope they will accept that I’ve found someone to cherish.” She stroked Tâm’s cheek. “What about your sister?”
“I do not talk to my sister. I told you we are estranged.”
“Because she is a Saigon bar girl.”
“Because she is a whore. And a traitor.”
“Do not think harshly of her. War makes people take unfamiliar actions.” Bảo paused. “Look at us. Do you think we would have found each other if not for this war?”
“That is unfair. We did.”
“But would we have become lovers?”
“Bảo, how can I answer that? I did meet you. For the first time in my life, I know how it feels to be loved. Wholeheartedly. Completely.”
“Your parents loved you. And your sister.”
Tâm shrugged. “There were always conditions.”
“Have you ever been with a woman before?”
“No.”
“What about a man?”
“Once.”
“And?”
“It happened during training camp. We had just finished a dangerous mission. We were ecstatic to be alive. He was a good man.”
“So, tell me. What is the difference between the man and me?” Bảo asked.
“You,” Tâm kissed Bảo.
“No, really,” Bảo persisted. “Do you think you are đồng tính nữ? A lesbian?”
“I think I am in love. And, yes, I’m afraid of being labeled. Perhaps even ostracized. But the person I am in love with happens to be a woman.” Tâm propped herself up on an elbow. “What about you? You have been with other women.”
“Yes.”
“Am I different?”
“Oh, Tâm. Of course you are. I fell in love with you, too.”
“But how can we trust this love? It happened so quickly. And I have nothing to compare it to.”
Bảo traced a finger down Tâm’s nose. “Yes. It was fast. But I am of the opinion that Buddha’s love is everywhere, and we must honor it in all its forms around us.”
Tâm rolled on top of Bảo. “Then promise me we will stay together. We can live in Saigon or Hanoi after the war. I do not care which. As long as you are with me.”
“You do not want to live in the mountains?”
“Herding goats. Working all day. Planting. Harvesting. Reading.” Tâm smiled. “Perhaps. Is there a library? Or a university nearby?”
Bảo giggled. “If not, I will build one for you.”
“Then the mountains it is.”
Other times their pillow talk was about the war. One night, or morning—Tâm wasn’t sure what time it was since her schedule was now upside-down—Bảo brought up the Iron Triangle. “You know it.”
“I’ve driven through. It is controlled by the Communists.”
“Yes. And did you know that the U.S. built an airbase right there on top of the tunnels?”
“What?” Tâm said.
“When the U.S. came to Vietnam, one of their first tasks was to build a base in the Cu Chi District. What they didn’t know was that they built part of it over the tunnels.”
“No! That could not happen,” Tâm said in disbelief.
“It did,” Bảo went on. “It is said that it took months before the American Twenty-fifth Division realized it. They could not understand why their men were shot in their tents at night.”
Tâm’s mouth dropped open.
“Perhaps that is why they work so hard to destroy us now,” Bảo said.
That night, a bomb attack struck the tunnels hard. The NVA antiaircraft soldiers were exposed outside the tunnels, their guns and even their surface-to-air missiles no match for the B-52s. A harsh slapping sound, a whistle, then explosion after explosion rained down. Tâm saw soldiers in a panic, rushing back to the tunnels, and she felt the ground shake beneath her. But the deafening blasts obliterated all sound. Tâm couldn’t hear, which might have been a blessing, since she saw bodies falling and shrapnel flying. There must have been ear-splitting screams too, but the scene played out like a silent movie she once saw as a child.
In the ensuing chaos, Tâm couldn’t find Bảo. She wanted to look for her outside, but she had to get back to the tunnels if she wanted to survive. Tâm’s breath came in tiny bursts of air, and she raced for the entrance. Slithering down faster than she thought possible, she tripped and fell when she climbed to a lower level. She picked herself up and hurried to the group living quarters. There! Bảo and her troops had gathered. Tâm said a silent prayer. Bảo beamed her flashlight on each face in turn, assessing who was still missing.
“I am here,” Tâm shouted, still breathless.
Bảo’s face lit up with relief when she aimed her flashlight at Tâm. Her lips moved, but Tâm still couldn’t hear what she was saying. She cupped her ear in response. Bảo nodded to indicate she understood. Suddenly the walls and ground under their feet shook and vibrated. Another blast. Possibly a direct hit.
Dirt and loose stones dribbled down from the ceiling. Some of the Long Hairs gazed at one another in panic. Others raced for the one exit in that passageway. Others squeezed their eyes shut and folded their hands in prayer. Bảo wrapped herself around Tâm, who hugged her close as if she was a warm blanket. Another blast split their ears, again far too close. The ground shook. More pebbles and dirt fell. The women cried out in terror. But it wasn’t their time. The ceiling held.