Hwang Sok-Yong - The Shadow of Arms

“I made a report on it to the captain, too. It won’t affect us too seriously. But we were given an order to dig out a dealing connection with the NLF, you think it’s possible?”

Toi raised his voice, “What’s this? Has the principle changed?”

“My principles are same as ever. All we want to do is to prove the independence of our detachment.”

Toi tsk-tsked. “The captain is mistaken this time. You guys are part of the command structure of the joint investigation headquarters.”

“But the captain says Krapensky is to be replaced. And now that we’re separated, the new man will want a fresh evaluation of the Korean team, so he wants to set a precedent for independent operations. Naturally, after we give them the information, it’ll be the Americans who undertake the final investigation to confirm the accuracy of our leads.”

“It’ll soon be clearer who’s who, but I’ve been trying to see that the information is not wasted in an undiscriminating way.”

“I got the impression the captain is intending to use our memo reporting on the dealings by Major Pham and Nguyen. I didn’t tell him of our suspicions about Nguyen Thach.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know. I guess it’s easier to aim and shoot when the enemy’s a little farther away from you.”

“That’s far from what I think, but anyway it’s a good thing you didn’t talk about it. Today I’m going to comb through the whole area from Somdomeh over to the smokestack markets. If you’ll join me, that is. But I’ll keep my hands clean of the matters that require reports to the captain.”

Yong Kyu was dismayed by Toi’s reproachful tone. “Listen, Toi, I’m a soldier. Don’t be angry with me.”

“You know, I get thirty or forty dollars a month from you people for feeding you some stupid information and my interpretations. And then I take a few morsels of goods from Turen and sell them on the market. Because it’s your business. But now I’m talking about business deals among the Vietnamese. Big scale operations, and very big risks. This may well be the last opportunity for me. I already lost an eye in this war. And I’m not getting any disabled veteran’s pension.”

Yong Kyu hung his head and stayed silent for a time. Toi again urged him.

“Ahn, I don’t want to cheat behind your back. You have no obligation to follow the captain’s request. You’ll be off-duty in a month, and then all you need to do is a little shopping and then off you go on your way out of here.”

“Anyway, it’s agreed we’ll work together to gather the information, right?”

Reluctantly, Toi nodded. Then, glancing down at his watch, he pounded on the table. “God, I’ve got to go see Stapley. The landlord called me. His son made it back home.”

“When’s the departure time?”

Toi finished the rest of his drink and patted Yong Kyu on the shoulder. “Tonight. You should come along, too. No sleep for us tonight.”

The two men walked over to the back alley of the old market where Stapley was holed up. As usual, they pulled the bellrope and the landlord came out to the front hall, looking half-asleep. This time, however, he swung the door swiftly open and waved to Toi. The two of them followed the old man into the kitchen, where wicker chairs had been set up around a long meal table. When the landlord said something in a loud voice, the door opposite opened and a uniformed Vietnamese naval officer appeared. The insignia on his sleeve were a lieutenant’s. At the sight of the two visitors, he bowed.

Toi spoke. “This is the landlord’s son who I told you about.”

“Let’s call Stapley.”

Toi went thumping up the steps. The landlord muttered, “Beaucoup sleep, beaucoup sleep,” putting both hands on his cheeks.

“He means your friend sleeps a lot,” the naval officer explained.

As he walked in, Stapley grabbed Yong Kyu’s hair and gave it a tug.

“We’ve already made a deal with your father,” Yong Kyu said, opening the business discussion.

“So I heard. I understand the destination is Saigon. That’s possible. And I’ve already been introduced to this gentleman.”

“He told me,” Stapley said, “that in Saigon there are many organizations helping AWOLs to slip out of the country. The European missionaries and civilians are doing that, he said.”

“That’s true. I know a Frenchman and a German who have been doing that. One is a priest and the other a doctor.”

“What ship are you on?” Yong Kyu asked.

“It’s an LST.”

“Then he can board right from the pier. We’ve discussed it with your father: ten thousand piasters to Nha Trangh, and then another five thousand payable in Saigon on the condition that you see that he get’s onto a boat from Nha Trangh to Saigon.”

The Vietnamese officer listened with his eyes blinking and then tilted his head. “I’m not the only officer on board, you know. I’m not sure about the others, but I cannot ignore the captain of the vessel. Let’s make it twenty thousand piasters here and another ten thousand later, and I’ll need half of the first part right now. You see, I have to get back on board my ship before nightfall. That way I can get everything prepared.”

“Twenty-five thousand, what do you say?”

Toi started talking hurriedly in Vietnamese. Then in English he said to Yong Kyu, “I told the lieutenant to keep the agreement we made with his father. I also told him about all the things we brought to his father since Stapley has been here.”

“Oh, all right, twenty-five thousand.”

With this assent from the lieutenant, Yong Kyu made a signal to Toi with his eyes, whereupon Toi took out a bundle of bills and started to count out the initial payment.

Stapley stood up and said, “Look, this is my business. Don’t be spending your money.”

“Hey, hippie,” Yong Kyu said, pointing at Stapley, “you just sit tight. What little cash you have you’ll be needing to open that pottery shop in Tibet.”

Once Toi had handed over the money to the lieutenant, the latter quickly handed it to his father, who began slowly counting it out one bill at a time.

“Now, let me go over the tricks to get you on board,” the officer said.

“What are you talking about?” Yong Kyu asked, his voice showing irritation. “You mean you won’t be taking him aboard yourself?”

“Let’s hear him out,” Stapley said.

“You know where we dock, don’t you? The outer port, what you people call Monkey Mountain, but the real name is Bai Bang. Have you been to that cargo terminal?”

“Yes, I know it.”

It was the landing where Yong Kyu had first set foot on Vietnamese soil. But when he shipped out they would arrange for a launch to pick him up at a pier downtown and take him out to the middle of Da Nang Bay.

“There’s a barricade in the navy cargo yard. The American forces, Vietnamese forces, and foreign ships each have their separate and exclusive areas. Boarding will have to be done after eleven tonight. After lights out, everyone will be in their cabins except the petty officer on deck duty and one guard team. At the entrance to the pier there’s a sentry post. The American shore patrol is on guard at another checkpoint inside, but they usually are watching their own separate gate. I’ll wait at our sentry post. Then he’ll walk with me toward the ship and climb up on the deck with me. That’ll be it. I’ll arrange a place for him to sleep on board.”

“Hey, that sounds simple enough!” Stapley shouted in excitement.

Toi and Yong Kyu asked simultaneously, “What about his clothes? Will he be all right as is?”

“What’s the matter with this outfit?”

Stapley, his hair and beard now long, slowly looked down at the T-shirt and blue jeans he had on. “I’ll just take this off,” he said, touching the pendant around his neck.