Hwang Sok-Yong - The Shadow of Arms

Pham Quyen straightened himself up and said, “I understand, sir. I’ll serve you the best that I can.”

“We’d better have enough cash ready. Jewelry’s not bad, either.”

“Before your trip to Saigon, let me have a list of your supporters. I’ll make detailed investigations into their families, relations with friends and relatives, and work out some contingency plans.”

“I suppose you ought to. You may go now.”

Pham Quyen got up and saluted the governor. Then he bowed to the French-Vietnamese woman. As soon as he was gone, the woman, who had been quietly listening to the conversation, asked, “Can you trust that man?”

“What do you think?”

“Looks extremely ambitious. Also very meticulous.”

The governor lightly pulled her ear. “Is that your way of saying you find him to your liking?”

“The longer you use a thing the better it suits you, but I don’t think it’s true with people,” was the woman’s witty reply.

The governor’s smile was gone and with dignity he said, “We’ll just have to wait and see.”

Pham Quyen went straight to the heliport at corps headquarters and got aboard the general’s private helicopter, a Cobra. They took off and headed on their way alone, without any escort of gunships. It was ten after nine. The helicopter climbed into the skies over Da Nang and was cruising over the long expanse of rice paddies beyond Dong Dao when a formation of US gunships came into view ahead.

“They’re going the same direction, sir,” the pilot remarked.

“The offensive begins at nine, that’s why.”

At the order of the operations headquarters, the gunships were going to bomb several suspected strongholds. It would only be intimidation fire, but it would benefit the US as much as the NLF. The NLF would read it as the opening of a large-scale operation and retreat deep into the jungle and far from the operations zone. And the US forces would see it as confirmation of the progress of the pacification operations by the ARVN Second Division.

“That’s Ha Thanh, sir,” said the pilot, pointing down at a valley where the river narrowed.

The formation of helicopter gunships flew on toward the west. Below, the yellow smoke of a signal flare marking the landing zone was floating up from the makeshift heliport. From above, the entrance of Ha Thanh valley seemed congested with transport vehicles and combat forces. Three Chinook helicopters had already landed. As the Cobra descended, there was an ear-splitting din of rockets and machine gun fire. The attack by the gunships must have started.

The command post had been set up in the old district office building at the edge of the river in Ha Thanh. In the old days the same building had been used as a base for the French army garrison. It was a solid structure and fairly well fortified with cement walls and sand bags. The magistrates in both Ha Thanh and An Hoa were field-grade military officers. As Pham Quyen got out of the Jeep, the Ha Thanh magistrate, another major, greeted him. The two men shook hands without ceremony and did not bother to salute.

“The general has already arrived and is waiting for you.”

He led the way. Although they were of the same rank, Pham Quyen was in a way his superior since he was the head of an administrative unit under the control of the Quang Nam provincial government. Indeed, as the chief secretary to the governor as well as aide-de-camp to the chief commander for the ARVN in central Vietnam, Major Pham had in his hands virtually total power over personnel administration. Pham Quyen made a solemn salute to General Van Toan.

“It’s late. You should’ve been here at least a half-hour before the start of operations.”

Van Toan was wearing a metal helmet reminiscent of the Ngo Dinh Diem days and sunglasses. He was attended by three field officers and a sergeant who appeared to be his bodyguard.

“I apologize,” said Pham Quyen. “I’m a bit late because I made a report to His Excellency the Governor before coming here.”

“Did the corps commander stay in Doc Lap, or across the river last night?”

“He’s now at the villa in Bai Bang, sir.”

“What a life.”

Pham Quyen said nothing. Instead he turned to look at the map stuck on the wall with thumbtacks. “The operation is already underway, isn’t it?”

The operations officer from Division looked inquiringly at General Van Toan.

“What the hell are you waiting for?” the general said. “This is Major Pham from the Corps. Brief him.”

The operations officer, a lieutenant colonel, began to explain, using his baton as a pointer. “At 1700 hours yesterday, the reconnaissance company left Ha Thanh and seized the bridge passage leading to the Tung Duk area. In An Hoa, also, the reconnaissance group that set out from Phuoc Binh penetrated into Quang Lung and Bien Daio and set up a blocking line. The US helicopters have just bombarded the Bien Jiang and Tabik areas located at the far west of the zone. Starting now, one battalion will be sweeping down southwest from Ha Thanh, and another will sweep all the way from An Hoa to Tabik. When the cast net is drawn in, each battalion will dispatch a company of commandos to establish an independent buffer in Bien Jiang and Quang Lung. We estimate it will take approximately ten days from the commencement of these operations for us to complete seizure of all the strongholds.”

“That’s too long,” said Pham Quyen. “Move it up to one week.”

“As you can see on this map, the jungle in this area has two peaks lined up here. Hill 3383 and Hill 3750. The ravines lying between these two hills are woven crisscross like a maze. There are at least half a dozen rivulets winding through there, too. It will be very simple to pass through this area and secure Hill 3750 to the south. But, even though it takes time, unless we thoroughly comb those ravines, the enemy will use that zone to pass freely and we will be facing counterattacks from the front as well as the rear. The problem is these two little highland hamlets west of Lin Hiep and these four on the river south of Quang Lung. We know for certain that they are so-called ‘liberated areas’ under enemy control.”

At that moment they heard a loud whistling sound outside, followed by an explosion somewhere not far off.

“That’s an M114 howitzer. We’re getting artillery support from the division in An Hoa.”

“They can’t fire even one shell into the forest.”

The general laughed. “Don’t worry. They’re just hitting those ravines. Our aerial reconnaissance already fixed and passed along some precise coordinates.”

“Then those six hamlets are the only problem. The enemy will safely hole up there until the bombing and air raids are over, then make a surprise counterattack at night.”

The general smacked his lips. “Well, that’s what we’re afraid of, too. We can’t just leave them alone and we’re not in a position to bomb the places, either. I wish the corps commander would give us an order. .”

“Let’s try the methods the Americans use.”

“We, ourselves?”

“No, sir. I mean we’ll get air support.”

The idea of establishing free-fire zones by strictly distinguishing the phoenix hamlets from the enemy’s liberated areas was initially developed in connection with General Westmoreland’s orders for search-and-destroy operations. Now the locals had to stake their lives on a choice between the government and the NLF. It was no longer possible for Vietnamese in operations zones to adopt a neutral position. It was a key part of the Americans’ strategy.

Once operations began, helicopters brought Vietnamese officers in to wage psychological warfare over liberated areas by broadcasting and dropping leaflets to disseminate the message: “This is an area of combat operations; all civilians must evacuate this area and move to new hamlets which have been prepared where everyone will be able to settle down peacefully and safely; land, food, and seeds will be provided free. Evacuation must be completed by such-and-such day, following which this area will be bombed and those captured thereafter shall be treated as suspected enemy forces.”