Hwang Sok-Yong - The Shadow of Arms

“Yes, sir.” The master sergeant was completely broken.

“Good,” said Pham Quyen. “If you lose this position or if the enemy infiltrates it, then you’ll be considered Viet Cong agents and you and your entire family will be shot. This is something I want you other soldiers also to bear in mind. Get into your uniforms and stay properly armed like real soldiers. Keep to your posts and be prepared to fight. Sergeant, carry on.”

Pham Quyen slowly got back into his Jeep. The militiamen started moving about energetically and looked more like soldiers. The battalion commander glanced quickly at Pham Quyen and then drove off in front. The road stretched ahead with jungle on the right and rice paddies on the left sloping down to the riverbank. The peaks of the highlands, looking like a camel’s humps, were visible up ahead. The mountains were densely covered with trees from the bottom all the way to the top.

The Jeeps hurried along to avoid snipers, raising red dust behind them. Every now and then the guards fired a few shots into the jungle. The thatched palm roofs and white plaster walls of the Tung Duk hamlets came into sight. Company soldiers who had already set up communications and fortified trenches waved to them. The battalion commander seemed to feel they had reached a secure position and ordered the driver to stop. He got out and slowly walked back to the second Jeep, taking a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. He put one in his mouth and offered the pack to Pham Quyen, who raised his hand in a declining gesture. After watching the men on guard duty across the river for a while, he turned to Pham Quyen and said, “This doesn’t feel right to me.”

Still sitting in the Jeep, Pham Quyen looked at the battalion commander with a blank face. “What are you talking about?”

“Who is behind this operation, and what is their objective?”

In a low voice, Pham Quyen replied, “Major, are you asking me?”

“Yes, I am.”

“The objective of this operation is to pacify the North Vietnamese support bases for infiltration down the Ho Chi Minh Trail, as well as the local guerrillas who are operating in the environs of Da Nang and Hoi An. In other words, in order to revitalize the phoenix hamlets project, the Second Division is now operating under the orders of the Quang Nam Province command and the Second Army of the government forces. Are you now asking me that question as a subordinate field commander of a battalion of those forces?”

The major tossed his cigarette on the ground and pointed his finger straight at Pham Quyen. “Cut the bullshit. You think I don’t know? The rumor has already spread among the soldiers. You think we’re a bunch of idiots? We know we’re being mobilized to harvest cinnamon.”

Pham Quyen remained sitting in the Jeep said, “Watch your mouth — you don’t deserve to be a battalion commander. You’re at the bottom of the chain of command in the Second Division. Cinnamon collection is only a by-product of this operation. If we leave it as is in an uninhabited area, the NLF will harvest it and use the money they earn to buy guns and ammunition to kill us. We are utilizing a national resource in order to support the local residents’ self-sustainability. Are you a major of the Vietnamese army, or a spy from Hanoi?”

Though visibly intimidated, the major protested again in a loud voice. “You saw for yourself the lack of discipline from those reserves. Do you know why they treat their commander like that? Because they’ve heard about the cinnamon.”

Slowly Pham Quyen got down from the Jeep. Thrusting his face right in front of the major’s nose, he shouted, “Major, I’m warning you. As liaison officer from corps headquarters, I am your superior. You must obey all orders that come down through me to you. If you go on repeating that misinformation about cinnamon, I will have you arrested.”

“Suit yourself. . but it won’t be that easy.”

Pham Quyen turned to the guards in the back of the Jeep and said, “The major will ride with you. We’re returning to the administrative office.”

With a wave of his hand, Pham Quyen indicated for the major to get aboard the Jeep. Stiffly, the battalion commander did so. Major Pham ordered the driver, “Turn around and go back to the office.”

Pham Quyen got into the lead Jeep. They drove back along the river and when they reached the An Diem junction Major Pham told the driver to stop. Compared to the listlessness encountered at their earlier visit, this time there was a semblance of military discipline. Everyone was in full uniform and wearing helmets, and the soldier manning the turret of the armored personnel carrier was attentive at his post with the machine gun at the ready.

“Where’s Master Sergeant Tam?”

The middle-aged sergeant scrambled out and stood at attention in front of the vehicle.

“Get in the Jeep!” Major Pham ordered.

“Sir? Who will command the guard post?”

“Who’s next in rank?”

A man wearing the insignia of a staff sergeant stepped forward.

“From now on you are in charge of this guard post,” Pham Quyen said. “And you, Master Sergeant, hurry up and let’s go.”

Looking around with frightened eyes, the master sergeant climbed in the back of the Jeep and knelt down at the base of the machine gun stand. They passed the checkpoint barrier and entered the village of Ha Thanh. From above the jungle came the booming sound of warning broadcasts:

“All residents, this area has been designated as an operations zone. The Vietnamese government has prepared land, housing, and food for your resettlement in a protected area. Do not stay in the jungle living through the horror of daily communist atrocities, leave the villages now. Evacuate your villages by nine o’clock tomorrow morning. Our government cannot be responsible for any misfortunes that happen to you if you remain here. After the stated hour, there will be full-scale bombing in the operations zone followed by an assault of ground forces. Avoid the misfortune of being mistaken for an enemy. Do not loiter. Evacuate the villages as soon as possible. All residents, attention: this area has been designated as an operations zone. .”

As soon as the Jeep pulled up in front of the district administrative office, Major Pham got down and said to the battalion commander, “You are relieved of your command and suspended from duty as of today.”

The major glared back at Major Pham without speaking.

“Follow me.”

Pham Quyen marched into the magistrate’s office, which had been converted into the battalion command post. He gave an order to the communications officer.

“Get General Van Toan on the phone. Say it’s Major Pham.”

After several attempts to get through to An Hoa, the radioman held the receiver out to Pham Quyen. The division commander’s adjutant came on the phone first.

“Ah, Major Pham Quyen here. I need to speak to General Van Toan.”

“It’s me, what’s going on?”

“I’m sending the battalion commander, Major Quia, over to you now. Dispatch somebody else as operations commander.”

“Why? What’s the problem?”

“I’ll send you a detailed memo. Or I’ll come to An Hoa myself tomorrow morning to explain.”

“All right.”

Everyone was nervously watching Major Pham and the battalion commander. After the call was completed, Major Pham spoke to the communications officer, a staff sergeant.

“Escort the battalion commander to headquarters at An Hoa.” Then he turned to the other major and said, “Leave.”

“I’ll be seeing you again,” the major said bitterly.

“Major Quia, if I were you I would watch my tongue. That we share the same rank is the only thing that kept me from sending you down to corps headquarters.”