Saigon (36 page)

Just as he finished encoding the message with a one-time pad, Joseph heard a footfall outside his hut and looked up to find Kim smiling uncertainly and gesticulating across the clearing. When he stepped outside he saw two slender Annamese girls bending over the dying embers of the fire, stirring a cooking pot. 

“We want you to be comfortable here, captain,” said Kim awkwardly. “In case you should have difficulty sleeping in the jungle, I’ve arranged for you to try an ancient soothing drink of the hill tribes.” 

In the firelight Joseph could see that the girls were young, scarcely out of their teens. Both were dressed in the dark, high- necked ao dai of the north and wore their glossy black hair loose about their shoulders, 

“They’re entertainers in Hanoi,” said Kim quietly. “We had them brought through the Japanese lines yesterday in time for your arrival.” 

On hearing Kim’s voice, Lieutenant, Hawke came out of the adjoining hut, grinning from ear to ear. “I don’t believe it,” he whispered incredulously, staring towards the fire, then began firing rapid questions at Kim in Annamese. When he turned to look at Joseph again his grin was broader than ever. “They’re brewing up a potent jungle aphrodisiac made from cassava root and all kinds of things — maybe even dried tiger’s penis. How about that?” 

“Remember, lieutenant, we’re here on U.S. Army business, fighting a war,” grinned Joseph, taking Hawke firmly by the shoulders and propelling him towards the darkness of his bamboo shelter, “For that you need a clear head and lots of sleep — on your own.” Turning back to Kim, he smiled apologetically. “Thanks for the kind thought — and please thank the girls too. But tell them we’re all very tired.” 

After Kim had gone and he had dispatched the coded radio message to Kunming, Joseph lay awake listening to the night noises of the bamboo forest. Seeing the two young Annamese girls in the firelight had brought disturbing bittersweet memories of Lan flooding back into his mind; he remembered suddenly the silky feel of her long hair and saw again the soft, bright color of her golden body as she lay naked in his arms during that enchanted hour on the River of Perfumes. As the night wore on, he grew more restless, and twice he rose and crossed the silent clearing to Ho Chi Minh’s hut; hut each time he found him sleeping peacefully and stayed only long enough to supervise further injections of sulfur and quinine. Just before dawn he fell into an exhausted sleep and dreamed of Lan, more vividly than he had ever done before, and when the discordant cries of jungle birds broke this brief slumber, he felt strangely comforted and consoled by these fresh images of her lovely face. As he came fully awake, an indefinable sense of pleasure and contentment began to grow in him at the mere thought that he was back once more in the country where he had briefly known such intense happiness with her. 

Every day during the first week of August 1945 Joseph and other team members of the Deer Mission rose at dawn and marched two hundred of the best Viet Minh guerrillas to a nearby jungle firing range. From five-thirty AM. until five o’clock in the afternoon, without letup, they taught the ragged Annamese how to assemble and fire the carbines, light machine guns, antitank bazookas and grenade launchers they had brought from Kunming. The OSS men in their badgeless bush shirts, knee-length shorts, jungle boots and forage caps towered above the diminutive Asian guerrilla fighters, but without exception all the Americans quickly developed a strong, almost paternal affection for their charges. 

As the training progressed, Joseph began to send out joint patrols to reconnoiter Japanese targets. From places of concealment they watched supply convoys roll down the nearby Colonial Route 3 and the major Hanoi—Lang Son highway farther to the east which led into China, and plans eventually were laid to make the first attacks the following week. In that remote and mountainous jungle terrain behind the Japanese lines, where they shared a common danger and a common diet of rice and bean sprouts, the high-spirited OSS men and their energetic Annamese allies soon developed a sense of close camaraderie rooted in a mutual respect. The Annamese were in awe of the big, good-natured Americans and their fine weapons, and in their turn the OSS soldiers found the guerrillas eager, unflagging pupils. At the end of the first week the chief OSS weapons instructor told Joseph that more progress had been made than he’d dared hope. 

“The capacity of these little guys for learning is amazing,” he said, shaking his head. “You’ve only got to show them once and they’ve got it. They’re making the change from homemade knives and old muskets to antitank bazookas and grenade launchers without turning a hair.” 

During the first two days of training Joseph slipped back to camp from time to time to check on the condition of the sick leader of the Viet Minh, but these visits soon became unnecessary; with a speed that astonished the Americans and the Annamese alike, Ho threw off the fever and, only three days after receiving the first injections of American drugs, emerged unsteadily from his hut to walk around the camp. Although he was gaunt and hollow cheeked, his eyes quickly regained their former brightness, and when he smiled, the warmth of the expression still transformed his ravaged face, By the end of the week he was back at work, and Joseph became aware that endless streams of Annamese strangers were slipping furtively into the camp day and night to talk with him in his hut. 

During breaks in the training, however, Ho went out of his way to chat good-humoredly with each of the OSS men in turn, mixing polite inquiries about their families with earnest political discussion, as though he believed that each of them personally might carry his message to the White House. “All I ask is that you give news of Indochina to the rest of the world” was his most frequent smiling plea, and in the conversation he never failed to flatter and praise America for its “high political ideals.” On the last day of the week, when he was obviously growing stronger, he invited Joseph to walk with him to the edge of the bamboo forest above the valley of terraced paddy fields onto which the Deer team’s parachutes had floated a few days earlier. The sun was beginning to set behind the hills, bathing the spectacular landscape with golden light, and Ho sank down onto a tree stump, staring thoughtfully into the valley where peasants in wide straw hats were straggling home from fields, their hoes and plows slung across their shoulders. 

“Life is strange, Captain Sherman, isn’t it?” he said at last, turning a wistfully smiling face to Joseph. “Eight months ago I was able by chance to help save you from the Japanese and now you’ve come back here to drag me out of death’s jaws.” His smile broadened and he held up a hand as Joseph made to protest. “Don’t be modest, captain. My comrades told me how it was. They were sure I was dying until you gave me that first injection.” 

“Yours powers of recovery are remarkable,” said Joseph. “You’ve obviously got a great determination to complete the task you’ve set yourself.” 

Ho smiled. “Perhaps. But I know I owe you and the United States of America a real debt of gratitude.” 

“The finest thing a man can do for another is give hint his unselfish help,” said Joseph quietly. “I’m glad I’ve been able to help someone with your remarkable gifts. I know something of what your country’s suffered at the hands of France, and I admire you for what you’re trying to do.” 

The Annamese sat staring down into the valley without turning his head. “Have you got a family, captain?” he asked at last in a quiet voice. 

“I have two young Sons.” 

“And what do you hope for them when this war’s over?” 

Joseph frowned, feeling a faint stab of remorse at the fact he had given so little thought to his family or the future for so long. “Only, I suppose, that they should be able to grow up in peace and freedom.” 

Ho Chi Minh nodded slowly in agreement. “1 think in different ways we share the same hopes, captain.” 

“Have you any family?” 

Flo continued gazing at the little knots of peasants wending their way homeward through the evening haze. “I’ve always devoted my life to my country,” he said in an unemotional voice “To me, all those men and women toiling down there are my family. I want the same peace and liberty for them as you want for your sons.” He looked up at Joseph and smiled suddenly. “Can you by any chance recite those lines about liberty from your country’s Declaration of Independence, captain?” 

The American grinned affably. “I might be able to give you the essentials. We had to learn it by heart at my grade school.” He closed his eyes to concentrate. “‘We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness 

“Excellent! Please repeat that again slowly so that I can write it down.” 

Joseph opened his eyes to find the Annamese pulling a little sheaf of green rice paper from his tunic pocket, and he repeated the phrases again more slowly. “May I inquire why you’re interested in the Declaration?” he asked when the older man had finished writing. 

Ho smiled mysteriously as he tucked his pen and paper away. “I hope you won’t have to wait very long, captain, to find out.” 

The sun was dipping behind the mountains, sending lengthening shadows creeping across the valley, and for a minute or two they watched the day fade, together in silence. Then the Annamese drew a long breath. “Whenever I think about it, cap. tam, I fear there’s more chance of you getting your wish than there is of me getting mine.” 

“Why do you say that?” 

“Because I’m. sure France will try to return in force to rule us again. I know how the French mind works. They’re proud people, the French, but insecure. There’s only a small hope that they’ll respect our rights and settle peacefully. And if they try to re-impose their rule by force, there will be great bloodshed.” He nodded towards the valley. “Those people down there, like your sons, don’t want revolution. That is why I’m determined to do everything in my power to negotiate peacefully with the French. But if this proves impossible, the people will fight — if necessary for ten or twenty years — for their own freedom and the freedom of future generations.” 

“Why are you worrying about this now?” 

“Because we need the moral support of the freedom-loving American people. We know that they believe all nations should be free to choose their own form of government. They should be made aware of the true facts about the former French regime here. If Americans had this knowledge, I feel certain we would get their support. Couldn’t you help us?” 

Joseph shrugged apologetically. “Remember we’re only soldiers, not diplomats. I can report what you say to my headquarters, but that’s all 

Hearing the sound of running footsteps behind him, Joseph swung around to find one of his sergeant radio operators rushing towards them out of the forest. 

“Captain Sherman, we’ve done it,” he gasped as he skidded to a halt in front of them, his face flushed with excitement. “The Japs look like they’re licked at last.” 

“What are you talking about, sergeant?” asked Joseph, mystified. 

“We’ve hit them with a new secret weapon — something called an ‘atom’ bomb! We’ve just had a message from headquarters in Kunming. A whole damned city’s been flattened. Place called Hiroshima....” The sergeant stumbled over the unfamiliar name. “They think it killed at least eighty thousand people. Eighty thousand, can you believe that? Kunming says a total Japanese surrender can only be a few days away.” 

When they had recovered from their initial Surprise and the sergeant had gone, Joseph smiled ruefully at Ho. “If that message turns out to be true; I guess there won’t be any Japanese lines to operate behind here much longer — and that makes the Deer Mission redundant.” 

“No, no, captain! You and your men must finish the training and march with us to Hanoi.” Ho beamed and offered his hand. “And anyway, Hanoi is much nearer for you now.’ than Kunming.” 

Ten days after Hiroshima was destroyed, Vo Nguyen Giap led the first excited detachment of Viet Minh guerillas out of the camp to march on Hanoi. They carried their brand-new American carbines, bazookas and grenade launchers proudly on their shoulders, and beside them marched Captain Joseph Sherman and the other men of the OSS Deer Mission as they descended through the forested valleys, they were greeted everywhere by crowds waving makeshift red flags emblazoned with the gold Viet Minh star. In the settlements of the hill tribes, native women in traditional blue costumes decked with silver thrust flowers into the arms of the tall Americans, and in the poor villages lower down the slopes, local guards clutching long knives and rusty rifles turned out to line their route. Modest gifts of eggs and bananas were pressed on them, and in some hamlets, groups of children gathered to sing songs about freedom and liberty as they passed. In this heady, festive atmosphere the guerrilla bands were feted like a conquering army, and Joseph and the other Americans, relieved above all else that at last the long war was over, whistled and sang their own marching songs as they swung dong. 

Sometimes the roads over which they passed were pitted with craters, and most of the bridges had been torn down; great tree trunks also blocked some vital road junctions, and Tran Van Kim, who marched beside Joseph, pointed out the obstructions with obvious pride. ‘All this is the work of our own sabotage teams,” he explained. “We dug these pits and smashed the bridges with our own hands to prevent the Japanese using the road.” 

Radio messages from undercover Viet Minh agents already in Hanoi reported that the Japanese forces there seemed stunned by the sudden surrender of their leaders. They had adopted a stance of passive neutrality, and as a result the capital was very quiet, the agents reported. No Japanese patrols were sighted by the guerrilla column during the first day, and it moved on openly at a crisp pace, crossing great flat expanses of flooded paddy fields where gold- starred Viet Minh flags fluttered from the roadside telegraph poles. 

Occasionally the marchers passed through deserted, burned- Out villages where the ruins still smoldered, but to Joseph’s surprise, no order was ever given by Giap to stop and investigate. “What’s happening to these places?’ he asked at last as the column was led on yet another detour to avoid a devastated settlement where several bodies were visible lying among the smoking debris. “They look as if they’ve been attacked very recently.” 

“The Japanese razed them to the ground as they retreated,” replied Tran Van Kim curtly, then hurried on ahead. 

Lieutenant Hawke, who was marching beside Joseph, raised an inquiring eyebrow at him and jerked his head towards the village; when Joseph nodded, he chose a suitable moment to fall out of the line unnoticed and doubled quickly back to the jumble of smoldering huts. When he caught up to Joseph half an hour later, his face was grim. 

“The Japanese haven’t been near here for weeks, captain,” he said in an undertone. “I found an old Annamese wandering in the ruins back there. An advance guard of our guerrilla friends came this way yesterday — and that village refused to cooperate. The old man told me it was burned and sacked to terrorize the rest of the region into supporting them. All his family were killed.” Hawke paused and took a deep breath. “What’s more, he didn’t talk about the Viet Minh League. When I asked him who’d done it, he just cursed over and over again and said, ‘Cong San Dang! Cong San Dang! ‘— the Communists!” 

The information shocked Joseph, and when the guerrilla column halted outside the provincial capital of Thai Nguyen, he sought out Tran Van Kim and asked him where he could find Ho. 

“I’m afraid he’s very busy now, captain,” said Kim apologetically. “He’s got a great many things to organize — but I’ll pass on your message that you wish to speak with him.” 

When Joseph hinted at his misgivings in a radio report to Kunming, OSS headquarters immediately ordered him to halt the Deer Mission in Thai Nguyen and go no further. Because of the uncertain political situation in what was a relative backwater of the war, he was told, a new OSS team, code-named “Quail,” was being sent to Hanoi from Kunming, headed by Colonel John Trench himself. Its primary mission was to locate and liberate Allied prisoners of war in Japanese hands and prepare for the arrival of the Allied Surrender Commission, but it would also gather intelligence; a similar OSS mission, Kunming said, was being sent to Saigon from Calcutta. Joseph asked if the Deer team could take the surrender of local Japanese forces but was told curtly: “Take no surrenders and stay where you are. The war’s over as far as the Deer team’s concerned.” 

After a brief rest, the guerrilla force split into two, and Joseph watched Giap lead a little spearhead force out of the town towards Hanoi, with their gleaming American weapons on their shoulders. The rest of the column laid a siege around the fortified barracks into which the local Japanese garrison had retreated, occasionally bombarding the defenders to test their new armaments. Joseph commandeered a big house on the outskirts of the town for himself and the OSS team, and while his men sunbathed in the garden he fumed with impatience as several days passed without any word from Ho Chi Minh. 

At dusk on their third evening there, Tran Van Kim arrived at the house unexpectedly, his face alight with pleasure. “Today will certainly go down in our history as a great day for the people, Captain Sherman,” he said excitedly. “We’ve just had a message from Vo Nguyen Giap saying that our advance party has seized control of the public buildings in Hanoi. The Japanese were astonished to see them arrive in the city with their powerful new weapons. They offered almost no resistance. We had to fire only a few volleys over their heads. Now the capital is ours, and the people are flooding into the streets waving Viet Minh banners!” 

Joseph received the news in silence, the nagging suspicion that he and the Deer Mission had been exploited and misled growing into a certainty. 

“The people of Hanoi are beside themselves with excitement,” said Kim, still grinning. “They’ve been delivered from the Japanese and the French at one stroke. They’ve seen our fighters carrying American arms and are overjoyed that the might of America is on the side of their liberators.” 

“It’s truly a great day for the Annamese people,” said Joseph slowly, torn between the sympathy he felt for Ho and his followers and his anger at being deceived. 

“You’re right, captain,” said Kim in a gently chiding voice, “except for one small important detail — it’s a great day for the ‘Vietnamese’ people. We’re not ‘Annamese’ or ‘Annamites’ anymore, and our country isn’t divided into ‘protectorates’ any longer. Before the French came our land was called ‘Viet Nam.’ Now it will be ‘Viet Nam’ again. Eighty years of tyranny have ended at last! Our forces have already been renamed the ‘Viet Nam Army of Liberation.’” 

“I’m truly glad for you and all your people,” said Joseph in a controlled voice, “but I would still like to talk with Ho Chi Minh as soon as possible.” 

“But of course, captain.” Kim took the American’s arm and led him towards the door. “That’s why I’ve come — to take you to him. He’s set up his secret headquarters in a jungle village not far away 

— he’s always happiest in humble surroundings.” 

Half an hour later Kim showed Joseph into a bamboo and thatch hut in a village outside the town, and Ho rose from a paper-strewn table to greet him with a glowing smile. “I’m delighted to see you again, Captain Sherman,” he said, gripping Joseph’s arm in an affectionate gesture. “I expect you’ve already heard the good news from Hanoi?” 

“You’ve pulled a very neat trick on us,” said Joseph, his face unsmiling. “You’ve used our weapons and our presence with you behind the Japanese lines to make it look as though the United States backed your coup — that’s abusing our goodwill in my book.” 

Ho’s genial smile didn’t falter. “Have some yellow tea, will you, captain? it’s a soothing drink.” Turning his back he kneeled and picked up a blackened kettle sizzling on an improvised hob of stones. “I’ve always had a strong admiration for your country, and getting to know you and your men has turned that admiration to affection. I would be saddened if you didn’t understand that.” 

“Is that why you felt obliged to deceive us? My men and I couldn’t help noticing that you entertained many strangers in the jungle camp during the last few days of training. Were you plotting this stratagem behind our backs all along?” 

“I had no way of knowing Japan would surrender so quickly, captain. Like you, I knew nothing of the atom bomb. We were prepared to fight the .Japanese with you for one year, two years 

as long as was necessary.” He stood up, holding two little beakers of tea, handed one to Joseph and sipped his own reflectively. “I once told you, didn’t 1, Captain Sherman, that my party is my country? Well, that was no deception. I came to admire Lenin when I went to live in Paris because I discovered he was a great patriot who liberated his countrymen. When I first read his ‘Thesis on National and Colonial Questions,’ I was so overjoyed I burst into tears. Although I read it alone in my attic in the Rue Bonaparte, I jumped up and shouted aloud, ‘Dear martyrs, dear compatriots of Viet Nam! This is what we need, this is our path to liberation.’ “He paused and smiled at the recollection. “I was one of the first members of the French Communist Party, and some years later I helped to found the Indochina Communist Party — but always my action were motivated by the certainty that my weak country needed help from outside if we were ever to throw off the powerful rule of France. Your own George Washington accepted aid from the French to beat the British, didn’t he? What you call ‘Communism’ teaches the oppressed to organize and discipline themselves against their oppressors — and those are valuable lessons. But in the end, the support of the United States has proved to be of the greatest importance to us. We appreciate the generous spirit in which it’s been given, but during that time, captain, I haven’t betrayed my cause — my party, you see, is truly my country.” 

“And what about the photographs of General Chennault and the side arms I gave you? What were they used for?” 

The Annamese chuckled and hugged himself like a schoolboy caught out in a prank. “At the time, captain, there were others challenging for the leadership of the Viet Minh League. When I returned with the signed photograph and handed out the revolvers to my rivals, I did nothing to disturb the impression that I enjoyed the closest support of your famous general and that the guns were his personal favors. That little subterfuge allowed me to assume full unchallenged control of the Viet Minh movement at a crucial time.” 

His face lit up again so impishly that Joseph smiled despite himself. 

“But I’m sorry that you feel your goodwill has been abused, captain.” Ho tugged at his whispy goatee, his expression pained. “Things like this are perhaps difficult to say, but don’t all of us use those we’re fond of in one way or another? And does knowing that we do it prevent us from continuing to feel strong affection? I sense that you’re drawn to my country and its people, and I hope nothing I’ve done will alter that. I want there to be lasting friendship between our two countries — but I also hope the friendship between the two of us will continue to grow.” 

“For friendship to grow, there must be mutual trust,” said Joseph firmly. “You could have taken me into your confidence earlier.” 

The Annamese leader gazed intently at Joseph for a moment; despite the ravages of his recent illness, which had left him pitifully thin, his face remained set in lines of cairn determination, and Joseph saw more clearly than he’d ever done before the rare strength of character that sustained him. “There isn’t always time to do all the things one would like, captain,” said Ho quietly. “But because I value your .friendship highly I will tell you exactly what happened in the jungle camp in those last few frantic days — we were very busy organizing our nation’s future. The Viet Minh League is as yet little known among our people. We have only a few thousand trained activists. That means we have to work very quickly and not waste a second. The sudden surrender of the Japanese has created a vacuum, because our French masters are all still in prison. The Allies at Potsdam have decided that Indochina shall be jointly occupied by China and Britain — but their troops will not arrive for several weeks. In that time our tiny organization must perform a gigantic conjuring trick. The Viet Minh League must be made to appear to our own people and to the Allies as a vast and powerful organization of patriots capable of governing our country. It will be soon, but until that day comes we must create an illusion. Our few cadres have been dispatched to the four corners of our land to arouse the people, print banners, organize marches. It might have been difficult to explain all this to you before we began—but now you’ve already seen some results in the villages through which you’ve passed, haven’t you?” 

Joseph nodded. “So that was all faked up by your propaganda boys, was it?” 

Ho smiled and shook his head slowly. “No, captain, not ‘faked up.’ Our people are responding spontaneously now to our leadership everywhere. There’s nothing false about any of the demonstrations of support for the Viet Minh. To popularize a cause requires careful organization and much hard work — but it will come to nothing if the mass of the people don’t respond from the heart.” 

“Weren’t the people in those devastated villages we passed responding from the heart?” said Joseph stiffly. “My men discovered that you burned them down because the people refused to join you.” 

“Such instances are, fortunately, rare, captain,” said Ho brusquely. “There’s no profit in dwelling on them. If your countrymen had been slaves to a foreign tyranny for a hundred years and you were suddenly presented with the opportunity to make them free, how would you have responded? Would you have let a few doubters stand in your way? Would you have announced that you were weak and had no powerful friends? Would you have sat back and said, ‘Our organization isn’t yet big enough’? Or would you have acted as we did?”