Hwang Sok-Yong - The Shadow of Arms

Nguyen Thach’s establishment bore the outward appearance of a nuoc mam factory, but in fact it was a major collection and distribution center for weapons and ammunition diverted by the NLF from the supplies flowing to the militias of the new phoenix hamlets. These weapons and ammo, plus some construction materials, were moved down from the provincial office and dropped in conex boxes in the military pier area, and from there things were moved at night in small quantities by three-quarter ton truck through the side alley into the fish market area and to the nuoc mam factory. Once there, the crates were piled up inside among the real crates of fish to be sent out later all over the region. In the factory, the disassembled guns and ammunitions were hidden inside the bottom of large earthenware urns used to ship nuoc mam , then these urns were padded with straw and packed in wooden crates. Since nuoc mam was in universal use throughout Vietnam these packages could easily be sent anywhere by truck or coastal vessel.

Pham Minh entered the factory from a back alley of the fish market. Inside, three rank-and-file cell members were at work as laborers. They called the place a nuoc mam factory, but the process required not machinery, but rather a big gas burner on which two big cauldrons were sitting, plus about a dozen large fermentation casks and a cement tank always brimming with water. The work proceeded by first skimming the fermented fish juice, then scooping it into one of the cauldrons where it was boiled and the foam removed. After boiling, the concentrated fish sauce was poured into the earthenware urs, and after cooling, those were moved into storage further inside before being packed and shipped out. Upon opening the door of the place, there were always boxes of small fish stacked around amid bushels of salt. Pham Minh checked around and then walked on inside. The foreman followed him. Some familiar looking crates were stacked in one corner. One of the workers opened the door to a storeroom.

“This is the stuff brought in yesterday. Check it, please.”

Pham Minh used a crowbar to lift the lids off the boxes, one at a time. There were brand new carbines still coated with dark grease from their original packing, pistols, M1 rifles, bullets, and hand grenades. The two of them sweated profusely as they sorted out the ordnance and loaded them into sets of nuoc mam urns. After they finished, Pham Minh wrote down the quantities for each item: 80 carbines, 30 Ml rifles, 20.45 caliber pistols, 50 cartons of bullets, 70 hand grenades. Not bad, he thought. This meant that they were siphoning off nearly one-third of all the weapons and ammo being supplied to the hamlet militia. At the same time that new supplies of weapons were being lifted off the ships in the pier area, a few feet away the same items that had landed shortly before were heading for the nuoc mam factory, and from there being delivered to local guerrillas.

“The requisition to be shipped to the Hoi An and Tan Binh districts, is it ready?”

“Yes. We’ve already moved them to the backyard.”

“They needed two heavy machine guns. I suppose those have been included?”

“Yes, the stuff we received last week is now being shipped out, too.”

Pham Minh went to the backyard and made a quick count of the neatly arranged nuoc mam pots, then sat down on a wooden bench. The yard was more of a vacant lot stretching between their factory and a neighboring one, and was used by both as a kind of parking lot and loading area. It was unfenced, but they had nailed some wire mesh to some low wooden poles around the urns to keep passersby out of the fish market. No foreigner would ever voluntarily come to a spot dense with nuoc mam factories, and even if they did, the air was sure to give them such a headache that they would not be able to stay for long. Indeed, the neighborhood was known to the American soldiers as “fish sauce ground zero,” and it may have been that joke which gave Nguyen Thach his idea.

Once the three-quarter ton truck arrived, the workmen carefully loaded up the urns. The driver was a cell member who worked at Banh Hao’s store. As usual, Pham Minh got into the truck first and sat in the front beside the driver. When the loading was done, they drove slowly through the crowded marketplace and turned up the thoroughfare leading to the smokestack bridge. Banh Hao’s store on the other side of the Thu Bon River had been performing the function of supply warehouse for the local units up and down the coast. Pham Minh delivered daily supplies to the store and passed along updated information from Da Nang to send out to the provincial villages. Sometimes he also distributed pamphlets for the People’s Revolutionary Party.

“That’s the truck,” said the staff sergeant in the sentry post.

Toi and Yong Kyu peered out through the wire-reinforced window. A three-quarter ton truck rumbled up to the checkpoint gate and stopped. A policemen and a military guard took a quick look at the cargo in the back and then waved.

“See that fellow sitting next to the driver?” Toi asked.

Yong Kyu immediately recognized the wiry Vietnamese youth with sunken cheeks and a tense posture. It was the younger brother of Major Pham Quyen, who had been hired as a clerk at the Nguyen Cuong Company.

“Well, isn’t this getting interesting? Let’s tail him.”

As Yong Kyu walked out of the sentry station, Toi slowly followed. “No need to follow them,” he said. “They’re headed for Banh Hao’s store.”

Toi asked a few more questions of the QC instead. As they got back in the Jeep parked below the bridge, Toi remarked, “Goods in the back were nuoc mam . Now they’re really making us laugh. No doubt Nguyen Thach and that young fellow are in the same group. Listen, Ahn, I know where that nuoc mam is manufactured.”

“Where?”

“The factories are all jammed together down by the fish market.”

“You mean by the inner port terminals?”

“That’s right. Right next to the military pier. Remember when that dog bit you?”

“At Dr. Tran’s house?”

Toi’s white teeth shone beneath his mercury sunglasses. “Remember how they had mountains of fertilizer and construction materials piled up there? Remind you of something?”

“A warehouse in the fish market not far from that terminal. Am I right?”

“To be more precise, a nuoc mam factory. I’ll bet you anything there are guns in those nuoc mam pots. Wow, we’ve found it. We’ve just hooked a whale. All we have to do now is pull.”

“I’m off-duty from here on out.”

“What does it matter?” Toi was driving skittishly, jerking the wheel recklessly. “I’ll let you have a grand sum when you leave for home.”

“I don’t need it. I’m just thinking about passing a tip to the captain before I get on board to ship out.”

Pham Minh walked inside the Banh Hao store. Gunnery sergeant Le Muong Panh, who had been sitting there, raised a hand in greeting. Pham Minh reported the types and quantities of goods, then added, “There are some pamphlets, too.”

“What kind?”

“A speech to be delivered at headquarters and also at Nguyen Ai Quoc School. For educational use of the members of local organizations.”

“Let’s go in.”

They gave the workers orders on how to handle the cargo and then passed across the yard to the office. Banh Hao, who was leafing through some papers, gave them a cheerful welcome.

“So, you’ve just arrived?”

“Yes, sir. The two machine guns are included. They’re light machine guns, sir.”

“The urgent thing now is for us to expedite supplies of rockets and mortar shells.”