Hwang Sok-Yong - The Shadow of Arms

One bed right under the window, an empty bucket and a basin next to the door, two wooden chairs, a small desk like you would find in a schoolroom — those were the furnishings.

Yong Kyu took out his notebook and a pen. “Tell me what you need,” he said to Stapley.

“A coffee pot and a kettle, a few cups, a plate, silverware, also a fan if I’m to be cooped up here all day long, and a little refrigerator. .” Then Stapley paused and waved both hands as if suddenly struck by some revelation. “Forget it. I’m on the run. What the hell do I need those things for?”

Toi exchanged a few words with the landlord and then said, “He will lend you a hotplate. You can warm up C-rations for meals. He said he’s also got a coffee pot, cups, and plates from the kitchen that you can use.”

“Thank you,” Stapley said as he flopped down on the iron bed with metal springs. “Now I can dream about Saigon.”

Yong Kyu and Toi left him there with a simple good-bye and followed the owner down the steps. They heard Stapley shout from upstairs, “Tell Leon he’s going to win that bet!”

At around two o’clock, the usual hour for siesta at Nguyen Cuong Trading Company, Thach came by the warehouse as promised to see Pham Minh.

“Everything all right?”

He grinned at Minh as he sat on top of the desk across from him. Heat was pouring in through the open window. Thach gazed outside as he spoke.

“On my way over I submitted a report on the successful outcome of the training exercise by the reinforcement contingents of the 434th Special Action Group. Confirmation of the operation results came through the administrative agent in Somdomeh district, and I then passed the report up the chain of command. Cells A, B, and C each executed their missions superbly. In particular, the initiative of cell A in distributing leaflets among day laborers working on the American base was commendable. Since that was not specifically called for in their orders, the administrative agent criticized cell A, but the district committee’s opinion was different. They had conducted sufficient advance surveys and dry runs, and the cell members waited until the workers had been searched and were milling outside the gates of the base before covering the streets and alleys along their path with leaflets. Even more impressive is that they tried to use the young cigarette peddlers and shoeshine boys from the nearby refugee camps to hand out the leaflets.”

“The administrative agent’s criticism was warranted, perhaps? Seems very risky.”

“No, not necessarily,” Thach said, shaking his finger. “Urban guerrillas conducting small-scale operations at the cell level can’t carry out effective missions if they limit themselves to only following orders handed down by the higher command. The daring and imaginative steps taken by cell A deserve high praise. First of all, the group they brilliantly singled out was the best available to target in Somdomeh. Tell me, as you learned in Atwat, what are our targets?”

“The imperialist forces and their facilities.”

“You see? That cell A selected Vietnamese laborers working on the American base as their target for leafleting was a very well calculated decision. We know only too well that those workers, in order to survive, go to the US military barracks every day and do all sorts of menial work from cleaning garbage to washing clothes and so on. It may be that some of these men reduced to servitude are given petty gifts by the American soldiers like a bit of cash or a lump of meat, and so they might momentarily forget who’s the enemy and who’s responsible for the miserable state of their motherland.

“On the other hand, there may be others who, though they are reduced to such lowly work for the sake of their families, carry a deep-seeded hatred of the US Imprinting on their minds the existence of the NLF is one of our key goals. Even if we don’t succeed in recruiting them, if we can just convince them to believe in our cause, it is as much a victory as if we had overrun and occupied an enemy base. And, after getting the young boys around the base gate to hand out the leaflets, they dissolved into the crowd and monitored their performance, which was even more remarkable.

“Mass provocation is most successful when it involves spontaneity of the masses themselves. Those young boys were not in any danger, of course, even if they had gotten arrested by the police or by ARVN forces. It has happened before, in fact. The boys have no idea about the contents of the leaflets — they just say that a grown-up had given them some money to distribute them. The police have no choice but to let them go. In this case, the crowd stood behind a boy who was apprehended just as he was finishing handing out leaflets. According to cell A, it took about thirty minutes for the police to appear on the scene. You see, most local people would not think of reporting such things to the police.

“Ultimately, the purpose of the training exercise lies in nurturing one’s ability to cope with unexpected contingencies. Urban guerrillas always have to make snap decisions.”

After listening to Nguyen Thach’s quiet but impassioned voice, Minh felt a burning sensation surging up in his throat. He let out a long deep breath. Thach frowned slightly. “Do you, Comrade Pham Minh, disagree with what I’ve said?”

“Oh, no, sir. I just feel so frustrated.”

“Frustrated?”

“Because I’m playing no useful role in operations, just acting as a warehouse keeper.”

Thach’s face grew stern as he peered straight into Minh’s eyes.

“This mission is important. Today we have two assignments to carry out. We have to receive the firearms for the reinforcement contingent in the Third Special District and see that they’re delivered without the slightest hitch. And then you need to make contact with Kiem.”

“But I don’t know him, sir.”

“Kiem works in the same office as your brother, right? I’m sure you can find a way to be introduced to him.”

“I’ll try.”

Thach stood up. “You had lunch?”

“Yes, I ate in the office.”

“Then let’s call the foreman in here. I’ll go ahead and wait for you at the Chrysanthemum Pub.”

As the siesta period ended, activity was resuming at the intercity bus terminal. Passengers were loading their luggage and boxes onto the roof racks of the thirty-seat buses. Three-wheeler motorized carts were zipping through the crowd in the old market and ferrying all sorts of goods here and there. The big freight trucks bound for distant destinations had long since pulled out in the coolness of dawn. Afternoon was the time for the trucks headed for Hue, Hoi An, and Tam Ky to depart. Inbound vehicles from the highlands wouldn’t be arriving at the terminal until evening.

Nguyen Thach entered the pub through the back door, strode through the kitchen and, as always, took a seat in the very back of the place. Lunchtime was over and there were no customers. Only tea was served until dinner. After he sat down in the compartment and pulled the bead curtains, a young waiter brought him a pot of green tea.

“Welcome, Uncle.”

Thach casually nodded to the youth and asked, “Has he come?”

“Yes, sir. He’s outside, over there.”

“Show him in.”

Thach poured out a little tea into a cup and stirred it a few times to warm the cup before filling it. As he carefully poured out the tea, he heard a low voice.

“Comrade Nguyen, it’s been a long time.”

A youth in ARVN uniform with a sergeant’s insignia on his shoulder greeted him, awkwardly touching the brim of his hat with his right hand.

“Have a seat. Everything’s in order across the river, I hope?”

“We’re in a hell of a fix, sir.”