Hwang Sok-Yong - The Shadow of Arms

Thach stood up. “Among the NLF fighters, there are some who are waging war alongside their loved ones. They’re the happiest men and women in Vietnam. Our cases are different, however. You and I are intellectuals, Comrade. And we’re underground agents. The most important thing for you now is to keep your exposure to a minimum and maintain the security of the organization. Our foes are not only the visible power of the imperialists and their followers but also ourselves. I happened to hear that you made a date to meet her at the pub. Why don’t you go ahead there now and then come back? Meanwhile, I’ll have lunch with Dr. Tran and come back here.”

“Dr. Tran?”

“Director of the Da Nang Red Cross Hospital. It’s possible he might sell antibiotics and painkillers to us. Why, do you know him?”

“No… I mean, his daughter goes to Lycée de Pascal with my younger sister.”

Thach laughed loudly. “We certainly will win. In South Vietnam, the NLF is the only group that has any sense of responsibility for this war. Did you know? The grenade in my possession helped me.”

“Grenade?”

“You know, don’t you? That Korean investigation agent. He’s the one who’s introducing me to Dr. Tran.”

“Well, I’ll see you during the siesta hour, then.”

The two went their separate ways. Thach went out through the inside door leading from the warehouse into the front corridor. Minh walked out the main door and then pulled the iron gate shut and locked it.

At Chrysanthemum Pub, Pham Minh and Chan Te Shoan found themselves once again seated face-to-face. It was lunchtime, and the place was crowded.

“Let’s have lunch. The Puo noodles here are great,” Minh said.

“I don’t feel like it.”

“Then I’ll eat alone.”

“Go ahead.”

Minh ordered noodles. They were served with minced meatballs and a garnish of fragrant herbs. He began to eat.

“Have you been back to Uncle Trinh’s?” Shoan asked.

Shoan was gently reminding him of the night they had spent together in the air-raid shelter before he departed for Atwat.

“No, I haven’t,” Minh answered curtly.

“What is it with you? I’m the same as I used to be. I don’t care whether you went into the jungle or came out of it.”

Minh quietly emptied his bowl.

“Phuoc says you’re a coward, but, my dear, I don’t think so.”

She used the words, “my dear,” but Minh responded with measured coldness.

“Shoan, I’m no longer the same man as before. I’ve changed.”

“How? You no longer care for me as you did before?”

“I see now how thoughtless I used to be. Now I’m a soldier in the Air Force of the Republic of Vietnam. I plan to help my brother make a lot of money. And then I’ll go abroad to study. I’ve no time for marriage now or for flirting with women. When I become famous and powerful I’ll have many opportunities to meet wonderful women, and. .”

“I see you really have changed, just as Lei said.” Shoan gritted her teeth to hold back the tears. But there was still a thread of hope she was clutching. She managed to speak again in a weak, quivering voice.

“I’ll probably be engaged. My family is urging me to.”

“En. . gaged?”

“Yes, I’m a graduating senior now. Once the dry season is over, we’ll have graduation exams.”

Minh averted his eyes from Shoan’s gaze. He felt his throat growing tight. “That’s good.”

“Do you really mean it?”

Minh just stared into his teacup, with both arms stretched out on the table. Shoan abruptly stood up. Then, without a word, she rushed out of the door of the pub. Minh went after her, murmuring passionately to himself: “No, I don’t want any woman but her. She has to be my wife.” He saw the white trail of her skirt disappear into the crowd.

“Shoan, wait!”

But his cry was lost in the loud rumble of engines at the bus terminal and in the shouts of peddlers trying to beckon for customers. Minh stopped in his tracks, his fists clenched, and tried to convince himself that his feet were glued to the ground. When he looked up again, Shoan was nowhere to be seen.

“Shoan. .”

All the people in the crowd, all the buildings, and everything in old Le Loi market grew blurry. Minh hurriedly wiped his eyes with his palms.

Down on White Ivory Road along the shore, Nguyen Thach arrived at the restaurant that occupied an old wooden vessel. He came upon Ahn Yong Kyu and Dr. Tran sitting on the aft end of the upper deck. Ahn introduced the two men to each other.

“This is the Mr. Nguyen Thach I’ve been telling you about. And this is Dr. Tran.”

From behind his glasses, Dr. Tran carefully scrutinized Thach. They shook hands, then Ahn said, “Dr. Tran tells me his request was granted by the public welfare section of the US headquarters, so he’ll be receiving medical supplies on a regular basis.”

“Very good. In Vietnam, there are patients dying everywhere without receiving any medical treatment,” Thach said.

Dr. Tran maintained a prudent silence.

“I’ve given Dr. Tran a bit of advice about the military hierarchy,” Yong Kyu said. “And so he sent an official letter in the name of the Red Cross Hospital to the supply command, including the official approval from US headquarters. He received an immediate approval for his requisitions. Yesterday, the first deliveries of medical supplies were made.”

“What is being supplied?”

Dr. Tran answered in Vietnamese, “Mostly antibiotics like streptomycin and Terramycin. Painkillers in plastic syringes for field use, topical disinfectants for external wounds and burns, ointments, and so on, but most of them are for use on the battlefield. We won’t need it all, only a portion will be sufficient for hospital use. We’re struggling though great financial hardship.”

“Of course. I understand,” Nguyen Thach remarked. Then he asked, “What’s the approximate quantity available?”

“Two crates of antibiotics and one of painkillers, roughly.”

“A crate means ten small boxes, with each box containing a dozen bottles and each bottle a hundred pills, right?”

“I think so.”

“That’s really a lot if they supply it regularly. The current market price for a single capsule of Terramycin has been fluctuating between three hundred and five hundred piasters, which means a bottle would run between thirty thousand and fifty thousand.”

“A crate would then be about three or four hundred thousand piasters,” Dr. Tran said, smiling contentedly.

“Can you request more medicines?”

“We only have a limited number of beds in our hospital. But, there’s another way. Every city in Quang Nam Province has a public hospital. And out in the hamlets, most people don’t have the benefit of medical care.”

“Let’s suppose that a legal channel is arranged to make a request, then can you get the medical supplies from the supply corps?” Thach asked.

Yong Kyu interrupted. “I don’t understand Vietnamese. You seem to have lost your manners — how about using English?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot about your presence. I just asked Dr. Tran if he could increase the quantities of medicines being supplied.”

“He’s opened a proper channel, so I don’t see why the hospital can’t make direct purchases,” Yong Kyu said.

With Yong Kyu taking part, Thach resigned himself to speaking English “That’s only a temporary measure. The most important thing is that the supplies should be regular.”

Dr. Tran spoke in Vietnamese to Thach, “You and I are compatriots. Is there any need for a foreigner to be a middleman?”

“Don’t worry. He’s just here this once to introduce us to each other. He’ll be returning to Korea in a few months.”