Hwang Sok-Yong - The Shadow of Arms

“Hurry up. Comrade Pham, bring the goods back and wait for me before leaving the office for the day.”

Minh and Le squeezed themselves into the back of the three-wheeler. It rumbled down along the shore. The driver mumbled something to Le, food still in his mouth.

“I’ve seen him only from a distance, and today was the first time I met him.”

“Ah, is that right?” muttered Le.

Pham exchanged a nod with the driver as the latter turned to take a quick look at him.

“He’s been in charge of transportation, aiding Comrade Nguyen for a long time,” Le said to Pham Minh. “I was over in Pleiku last week, and things have quieted down a bit.”

The three-wheeler crossed the bridge, turned left toward the US forces headquarters, and then drove on for some time on the wide highway to Bai Bang. Then they passed by the ARVN barracks and turned up into a working class residential area. On either side of the alleys stood small houses of similar sizes, and little shops were lining the main street. They pulled midway up a long block of shops and stopped in front of a large rice dealership.

Le entered the store first. Sacks of American AID grain and bushels of government grain stamped with official seals were stacked up to the ceiling. On the floor was a huge wicker basket full of rice, a squarish gourd used as a measure, and containers of barley, wheat flour, and other assorted grain. A couple of workmen moved aside to allow them to pass.

Minh followed Le inside the store. As they pushed open a side door, they came to a bigger warehouse, passed through it, then emerged into a yard. The yard was small, but it had palm trees, a few evergreens, and a line of flowerpots. Facing them was a house, with a door in the center and two wide glass windows on either side. A man was standing behind one of the windows with his arms behind his back, watching the two young men as they crossed the yard. The room inside the house was the office for the store. It had two desks, a sofa and a chair, and a steel cabinet upon which was pasted a map of downtown Da Nang.

“Sir, this is Mr. Pham Minh from the Nguyen Cuong Company.”

Banh’s hair was grayish, but the deep wrinkles on his cheeks and forehead gave more of an impression of strong will than of the feebleness of age. He was clad in Mack pants and a white cotton shirt.

“Welcome.”

He scanned Minh with gentle but sharp eyes.

“Supply operations are of the greatest importance for reinforcing our combat power on the front lines and for sustaining our struggle. The smokestack area and the Le Loi area should complement each other’s strengths and through cooperation fill the requisitions of the district council without any exceptions. Drop by here often in the future.”

Le and Minh returned to the warehouse. Le brought out a bundle wrapped up in an army poncho. When they cut the nylon cord and opened it, they saw cold black gun barrels.

“We’ll have to disassemble the submachine guns and carbines. Let’s get to work,” Le said.

The two of them skillfully took apart the guns. Removing empty clips and loose ammunition from another bundle, Le said, “Bring me those rice sacks over there.”

Minh realized what he was planning to do. They poured out just the right amount of rice and put the knocked-down guns, clips, and cartridges in with the rice, then resealed the bags with a stapler. The pistols were easier to bury. After finishing the packing, they sat on the rice bags and rested for a while. Le offered a cigarette and Minh lit Le’s for him. Le removed his army uniform and changed into light Vietnamese-style pants.

“If you’re a sergeant, you could’ve been discharged before now, couldn’t you?” Minh asked and Le nodded.

“Yes, but active duty is more convenient for my work. I can walk onto ARVN facilities at any time, and can also drop in at the army PX to talk a little business.”

“What’s your unit?”

“Veteran’s affairs office. Costs me three thousand piasters a month.”

“Cheaper than mine, I pay five thousand a month for duty expense.”

“Well, that’s. .” Le let out a self-derisive laugh. “I’m a higher rank than you, aren’t I?”

Minh looked around the warehouse, which was much smaller than Nguyen Cuong’s. “Is this the whole place?”

Minh’s question implied that the warehouse was far too small to be a major node of the NLF supply network for the entire central region of Vietnam. Le also looked around the place. “This place? Well, it’s a midpoint. We always go through three points. Regardless of time and place, the NLF always receives voluntary support from the people. There are lots of small traders from the smokestack down through Somdomeh to the Thu Bon River. Many of them are collecting guns and war supplies to be handed over to us. Of course, there are also many connections with the ARVN forces, which we handle directly. From now on you, Comrade Pham, will gradually learn about how our work proceeds. On our side, we already have great expectations for your innovative new enterprise across the river.”

Le stepped on the cigarette butt and got to his feet.

“Now, let’s get this stuff loaded.”

The two men hoisted the rice sacks on their shoulders and loaded them in the back of the three-wheeler. The six sacks filled up the backseat, causing the springs to hit bottom.

“Is this load going to cause problems?” Le asked the driver.

“Don’t worry, sir. Once I even had five people crammed in the backseat there.”

Pham Minh barely managed to squeeze himself in the front beside the driver’s seat.

“So long,” Le said.

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.