Hwang Sok-Yong - The Shadow of Arms

“Pham Minh is the last comrade, sir,” answered Thanh. “Everything is set for departure?”

Thach nodded.

“We’re leaving by cargo truck. Is there anyone whose government ID is not in order?”

The two AWOL soldiers raised their hands.

“No one else except these two?” Thanh looked about. “We’ve got to get your pictures taken first. We can easily buy the IDs in the market, and it takes less than half an hour to forge them.”

Nguyen Thach pointed toward a bedroom behind the curtains. “In a wooden basket back there you’ll find outfits for eight. There’s also some canteens and bread. You two, come with me.”

Thanh spoke to Nguyen Thach as he was about to leave. “I need your signature here, please.”

“Oh, yes, sure.”

Tapping his finger on his forehead, Thach turned back and signed the document Thanh held out.

“It’s region eight, third city. What day is it today, and the date?”

Nguyen Thach told him.

“I can’t even say what year this is,” Thanh said.

“It happens when you live in the jungle.”

After Nguyen Thach left with the two men to have their photos taken, Thanh said, “That guy. . he was a graduate at the university. Now he’s in charge of this district.”

Pham Minh thought of the young men who had thrown grenades into the American officers’ club not long before.

“Is he the one in charge of combat?” Minh asked.

“Nguyen Thach is not someone who takes part in firefights. He is… well, he is an underground organizer.”

“Does headquarters know we’ve volunteered?” one of the teachers asked.

“I’m not sure. But once you depart your names will go on the roster of the district committee. You’re not the only ones who want to fight imperialism.”

Pham Minh sat on the windowsill and watched the crowded shops on the street below. The cool breeze from the pier billowed the cheap material of the curtains like sails. Thanh offered him a Trong cigarette. The two men took a deep puff, exhaled the smoke that smelled of grass, and looked out the window.

“You’re the only one from Da Nang.”

“And the other guys?”

“Not from Da Nang. .”

“Where are they taking us?”

Thanh hesitated for a moment, then said, “I’m only taking you as far as Tungdik.”

“Do you have a government issue pass? I mean from there, it’s a liberated district.”

“You really don’t know?” Thanh said with a sigh as he looked at Minh. “Even on the outskirts of Da Nang, it’s all our zone of occupation. The enemy is no more than tiny specks floating in our ocean. At night we even occupy the few checkpoints and control posts that they have. From Tungdik, you’ll enter the Atwat Mountains. I trained at Dong Hoi training camp, but you’ll be sent to the Atwat Mountains.”

“I could always see the Atwat Mountains in the distance when I went out into the fields. But how come we’re going there?”

“That’s where guerrillas are being trained,” Thanh replied. Realizing he’d said too much, he hastily added, “Whether it’ll be Atwat or the Ho Chi Minh Trail, I can’t say for sure.”

“Think I’ll be stationed in a city?”

“I don’t know,” Thanh tried to evade Minh’s question. “I suppose those from the city will be assigned to cities and those from the country to the country.”

“And you’ll be. .”

Thanh crushed the cigarette butt with his foot and said, “The first unwritten law of the NLF5 is never ask the mission or unit of your comrades. Each individual is like a single cell of his own small unit. Besides that, all you need to know is that you’re a member of the special operations corps receiving your orders directly from the district committee and central headquarters.”

Feeling his words were too harshly formal, Thanh put his arm on Minh’s shoulder and said, “Sorry, you’ll learn it in time. Have you been home?”

Minh shook his head and said, “I saw Shoan.”

“Shoan… oh, you mean, Chan Te Shoan. Listless girl, always reminds me of a sick canary. Her entire family is Catholic, aren’t they?”

“Don’t talk about her like that.”

Minh blushed and Thanh stopped talking. Then Minh spoke, fumbling with the words.

“Shoan is. . a poor Vietnamese woman. . like those you can see in Saigon, in Hue, here in Da Nang, everywhere.”

“True. I’m sorry. But women are not the only ones poor. The whole nation is poor. Go anywhere around a foreign army base. The houses there are like little whorehouse boxes. Little brother is drumming up customers, father is standing lookout, mother is taking the money, and sister is selling her body.”

Thanh’s voice gradually got louder and his eyes reddened as he went on.

“Generally, the living will survive. But some children will die setting booby traps, some girls will accidentally be killed by guerrilla bombs. And then there’re those who must be executed because they happen to have taken the side of the enemy. It’s all because this is a struggle for the people.”

An aroma of bananas frying in oil floated through the window from outside.

“What time do we leave tomorrow?’ Minh asked.

“Around seven. . maybe a little earlier or later.”

“I have to go somewhere first,” Minh said, getting to his feet.

“You can’t. You’ve already made yourself a member of the organization.”

One of the teachers who had been eavesdropping with the others came over to Minh and said aggressively, “We can’t trust you. Nobody should leave this room.”

Minh looked around at them. Then he plopped back down on a chair beside the window. After a long while Thanh came near him and said in a low voice, “All right. Go. But you have to be back here before dawn breaks tomorrow.”

Walking Pham Minh to the door, Thanh added in a loud voice meant to be heard by everyone, “It’s urgent, so hurry to make the contact. And try to be back in time to get some sleep.”

Thanh stopped at the top of the stairs and quickly whispered to Minh, “I get it. Say hi to Shoan for me.”

Minh left in a hurry out the back door of the herb shop and turned down Le Loi Boulevard. He meant to go to Dong Dao. He didn’t know if Shoan would be there or not, but he thought a quick visit to Uncle Trinh would help calm his restless and troubled heart.

Footnotes:

4 Post exchange

5 National Liberation Front

As soon as the helicopter landed at the base, the MAC6 ambulances began streaming in. The corpses were stacked neatly in the multi-shelved compartments. The wounded were grouped into pairs, each with a medic tending to them as they climbed in. Sirens roared. Pilots who had finished for the day strolled by, chewing gum. Yong Kyu and Sergeant Yun made their way off the runway with the government property boxes on their shoulders.

“Now,” Yun said. “I’m going to hitch a ride from the Americans and drive out to China Beach. . and you’ll have to head downtown.”

“I don’t know the city at all.”

Yong Kyu was lugging the box as if it were his own and Sergeant Yun looked over his pathetic appearance again. A miserable getup — the graffiti-covered helmet, the automatic rifle and ammo belt, the ragged jungle uniform and the sun-scorched face. The sergeant was quick to make up his mind.

“Fine. As you’re moving into such a high post. . ’’

Sergeant Yun put his box down, walked over to the sentry box, and made a phone call. “I called the Bamboo Club,” he said to Yong Kyu when he came back. “They’ll come get you.”

“What kind of club is it?”

“It’s an off-duty hangout for investigation division personnel.”

After setting the two boxes on the ground in front of him Sergeant Yun and waved his thumb at every Jeep and truck that passed by. A three-quarter ton stopped. Yong Kyu handed the boxes up to the sergeant who yelled down from the truck, “We’ll see each other again soon enough. We both have a lot to gain from a friendship.”