The Shadow of Arms (46 page)

“Hurry up. Comrade Pham, bring the goods back and wait for me before leaving the office for the day.”

Minh and Le squeezed themselves into the back of the three-wheeler. It rumbled down along the shore. The driver mumbled something to Le, food still in his mouth.

“I've seen him only from a distance, and today was the first time I met him.”

“Ah, is that right?” muttered Le.

Pham exchanged a nod with the driver as the latter turned to take a quick look at him.

“He's been in charge of transportation, aiding Comrade Nguyen for a long time,” Le said to Pham Minh. “I was over in Pleiku last week, and things have quieted down a bit.”

The three-wheeler crossed the bridge, turned left toward the US forces headquarters, and then drove on for some time on the wide highway to Bai Bang. Then they passed by the ARVN barracks and turned up into a working class residential area. On either side of the alleys stood small houses of similar sizes, and little shops were lining the main street. They pulled midway up a long block of shops and stopped in front of a large rice dealership.

Le entered the store first. Sacks of American AID grain and bushels of government grain stamped with official seals were stacked up to the ceiling. On the floor was a huge wicker basket full of rice, a squarish gourd used as a measure, and containers of barley, wheat flour, and other assorted grain. A couple of workmen moved aside to allow them to pass.

Minh followed Le inside the store. As they pushed open a side door, they came to a bigger warehouse, passed through it, then emerged into a yard. The yard was small, but it had palm trees, a few evergreens, and a line of flowerpots. Facing them was a house, with a door in the center and two wide glass windows on either side. A man was standing behind one of the windows with his arms behind his back, watching the two young men as they crossed the yard. The room inside the house was the office for the store. It had two desks, a sofa and a chair, and a steel cabinet upon which was pasted a map of downtown Da Nang.

“Sir, this is Mr. Pham Minh from the Nguyen Cuong Company.”

Banh's hair was grayish, but the deep wrinkles on his cheeks and forehead gave more of an impression of strong will than of the feebleness of age. He was clad in Mack pants and a white cotton shirt.

“Welcome.”

He scanned Minh with gentle but sharp eyes.

“Supply operations are of the greatest importance for reinforcing our combat power on the front lines and for sustaining our struggle. The smokestack area and the Le Loi area should complement each other's strengths and through cooperation fill the requisitions of the district council without any exceptions. Drop by here often in the future.”

Le and Minh returned to the warehouse. Le brought out a bundle wrapped up in an army poncho. When they cut the nylon cord and opened it, they saw cold black gun barrels.

“We'll have to disassemble the submachine guns and carbines. Let's get to work,” Le said.

The two of them skillfully took apart the guns. Removing empty clips and loose ammunition from another bundle, Le said, “Bring me those rice sacks over there.”

Minh realized what he was planning to do. They poured out just the right amount of rice and put the knocked-down guns, clips, and cartridges in with the rice, then resealed the bags with a stapler. The pistols were easier to bury. After finishing the packing, they sat on the rice bags and rested for a while. Le offered a cigarette and Minh lit Le's for him. Le removed his army uniform and changed into light Vietnamese-style pants.

“If you're a sergeant, you could've been discharged before now, couldn't you?” Minh asked and Le nodded.

“Yes, but active duty is more convenient for my work. I can walk onto ARVN facilities at any time, and can also drop in at the army PX to talk a little business.”

“What's your unit?”

“Veteran's affairs office. Costs me three thousand piasters a month.”

“Cheaper than mine, I pay five thousand a month for duty expense.”

“Well, that's . . .” Le let out a self-derisive laugh. “I'm a higher rank than you, aren't I?”

Minh looked around the warehouse, which was much smaller than Nguyen Cuong's. “Is this the whole place?”

Minh's question implied that the warehouse was far too small to be a major node of the NLF supply network for the entire central region of Vietnam. Le also looked around the place. “This place? Well, it's a midpoint. We always go through three points. Regardless of time and place, the NLF always receives voluntary support from the people. There are lots of small traders from the smokestack down through Somdomeh to the Thu Bon River. Many of them are collecting guns and war supplies to be handed over to us. Of course, there are also many connections with the ARVN forces, which we handle directly. From now on you, Comrade Pham, will gradually learn about how our work proceeds. On our side, we already have great expectations for your innovative new enterprise across the river.”

Le stepped on the cigarette butt and got to his feet.

“Now, let's get this stuff loaded.”

The two men hoisted the rice sacks on their shoulders and loaded them in the back of the three-wheeler. The six sacks filled up the backseat, causing the springs to hit bottom.

“Is this load going to cause problems?” Le asked the driver.

“Don't worry, sir. Once I even had five people crammed in the backseat there.”

Pham Minh barely managed to squeeze himself in the front beside the driver's seat.

“So long,” Le said.

 

 

29

Waiting for the general to emerge from the office, Major Pham Quyen and Lieutenant Kiem stood at attention. In one hand Kiem was holding the general's military cap with its three stars and in the other his baton decorated with ivory and snakeskin. The general walked out looking at his watch.

“Major, why don't you accompany me today?”

“Sir?”

“Well, there's going to be a small party at Bai Bang. I invited Mr. Butler, the consultant at the provincial office, a few American officers, and some civilians from the US-Vietnamese Joint Committee.”

“The mayor of Hoi An and the Second Division commander aren't coming, sir?”

“Too much trouble for them to commute by helicopter. I need you to act as my interpreter and also advise me on the proper line in the discussions.”

“Yes, sir. I understand, sir.”

Taking his hat from Lieutenant Kiem, the general put it on and then snatched the baton and stuck it under his arm. As they left, Pham Quyen said to Kiem, “Stop by the warehouse and check the outgoing goods, and see to the invoices and receipts.”

“Yes, sir.”

After the two men left the office, Kiem peered out of the window to watch the raucous and flashy procession as the general departed. Pham Quyen was sitting beside the driver in the lead vehicle, a camouflaged Jeep, and directly behind him there was a soldier in ranger uniform holding a pivoting M60 machine gun. When the Jeep began to roll, its headlights and siren were switched on. Following was the general's khaki-colored sedan, with a convoy truck following that and an armored personnel carrier bringing up the rear. The parade made its way to the smokestack bridge. As the sound of the siren died out in the distance, Kiem lounged deep in Pham Quyen's revolving leather chair, put his feet up on the desk, and leaned all the way back.

Lieutenant Kiem had more than a few grievances lately. The office had been abuzz with whispering between Major Pham and the general, and memos had been flying back and forth between the two of them, but not even once had his opinion been solicited. They never informed him of the contents of their consultations. The commodities for the phoenix hamlets project had been streaming in from the pier to the provincial office warehouses, and from there to the settlement sites, but all he was asked to do was to keep a nominal ledger recording the flow of goods in and out of the warehouse.

The only variation was that every now and then Major Pham would call him out to the Sports Club or to a bar and hand him some extra pocket money. For a while on each payday he had been getting an extra envelope containing thirty thousand piasters. The first time he received one of those envelopes, it had made his heart pound. The sum was nearly three times his regular salary, and he almost wept. It had enabled Kiem to move his family from Dong Dao to a rented house in a safer and more pleasant neighborhood on Puohung Street.

Still, it was not a question of money. What he could not bear was that he, the chief assistant to Major Pham, knew almost nothing about the phoenix hamlets resettlement program, the most important mission being undertaken by the aide-de-camp's office. Kiem was not a graduate from the military academy; he had just taken the officer appointment exam when they drafted him in Quang Ngai, where he had been working as a kindergarten teacher. He was an ordinary conscript officer. But he was no idiot; he knew better than to assume that Pham Quyen was walking all over him and failing to delegate him any tasks because he was single-mindedly absorbed in his mission. When he had received his promotion to the provincial government office from his prior duty as platoon leader of a supply company on the outskirts of Hoi An, his fellow officers had agreed that, “In three years, you'll be out of this hell for good.” And some civilians had told him, “When you get there, save up some money and find a way to move into a police detachment.”

Such had been the conventional wisdom among his fellow officers. A certain colonel was said to have refused a promotion to general and instead went daily to visit a powerbroker he knew, begging the man to appoint him as a police superintendent. That Kiem had been chosen for the provincial office duty was due to his outstanding record in the administrative training course at officer school. Kiem slowly took his feet off the desk. He poured some coffee that had been brought in from the Grand Hotel, the quality of which Major Pham was always complaining about, and drank it cold.

There was no need for him to hurry over to the warehouse just because some transports were on the way. Besides, there was nothing for him to supervise over there, either. All he had to do was mechanically collect the invoices and receipts. The engines of the trucks were noisy enough for him to hear as they rolled in and he could then leisurely stroll downstairs to the warehouse. Just then the telephone rang. Instinctively, Kiem sprang up from the chair, snapped to attention like a good soldier, and picked up the receiver.

“Office of the aide-de-camp!”

“Is Major Pham in?” asked the voice on the line.

“Ah, he's out of the office for the day. Who's calling, please?”

“This is his younger brother. You're Lieutenant Kiem, aren't you?”

“That's right. The chief has accompanied His Excellency, the Provincial Governor, to an important conference. Would you like to leave a message?”

“No, thank you. Are you, Lieutenant, by any chance free after work today?”

“I'm afraid I'll have an hour's extra duty this afternoon. Why?”

“Well, I was just wondering if I could ask you a favor.”

“What is it?”

“At seven o'clock, you know the Guangzhou Restaurant next to the Hotel Thanh Thanh, don't you?”

“The Chinese place?”

“Yes. I'll be waiting there.”

Kiem was about to say something more when the phone clicked off. What could it be about? Kiem didn't have the faintest idea. As for Major Pham's younger brother, he had once had tea with him when he took the Land Rover to deliver a month's worth of rice to the major's family, but they had not had a real chance to talk. The major always exuded pride when he mentioned how his younger brother had studied medicine at Hue University and was now carrying out his military service obligation. But Kiem had sensed that this brother had bought his way out of military duty and had been idling around the house and occasionally playing the role of agent for his brother in conducting business deals. Upon further thought, however, it occurred to Kiem that it could not do him any harm to be on better terms with the younger brother of his immediate superior. In fact, he was the one Kiem ought to have gone out of his way to contact in order to make a favorable impression.

At seven twenty that evening, Kiem strolled into Guangzhou Restaurant. Through the picture window across from the door he could see the beach and the narrow sea running to meet the Thu Bon River. The glow of the setting sun fell on the far side of the harbor, and the masts of a junk sailing by shone a pale red in the fading light. The window was open and a glass wind chime was clinking. Each table was enclosed by a wicker screen. A waiter approached.

“How many people, sir?”

“I'm here to meet someone. I'm Lieutenant Kiem.”

“I see, this way please, Lieutenant.”

Pham Minh was waiting in a corner room off of a crescent-shaped corridor.
He had been drinking jasmine tea and rose from his seat as Kiem entered.

“Some things came up, so I'm a little late.”

Kiem spoke in a formal, polite tone. Minh smiled and answered, “I just arrived myself a few minutes ago.” He added, “Now, what would you like?” just as Kiem asked, “What would you like to have?”

The two men awkwardly laughed. They ordered a set dinner and some bamboo shoot wine.

“I've heard a lot about you from my brother. I understand you're from
Quang Ngai?”

“Yes, but I moved my parents and younger brothers and sisters to Da Nang.”

“Sounds like you have a big family to support. Married?”

“No, not yet.”

While eating, they went on exchanging small talk. Kiem was anxious to find out what sort of favor the major's brother was going to ask, and why he was the one who had been approached, but Pham Minh had not yet come to the heart of the matter.

“What do you say, Lieutenant? Do you suppose we'll be winning this war?”

Kiem was momentarily at a loss. “Well, isn't the world's greatest power helping us now? The combat strength of the North and the NLF has almost been used up. The bombing of the North will go on. Perhaps the communists will try to negotiate.”

Kiem talked about the war in the stereotypical terms commonly used in pro-government newspapers or propaganda reports from the ARVN. Pham Minh nodded. “I wouldn't know for sure. Do you think this war is simply between the North Vietnamese Army and the government in Saigon? At the beginning the war was against the French colonialists, and now isn't America taking over the place of the French?”

“The reality today no longer permits us to argue about nationalism or colonialism. For we now have a government with undeniable sovereignty over South Vietnam.”

As Kiem once again assumed the tone of a government spokesman, Pham Minh abruptly changed both the topic of conversation and the expression on his face.

“Let's not talk about silly politics. I hate both Saigon and Hanoi. Most of all, I hate America.”

“I don't like America, either,” Kiem replied.

As he poured more wine into Kiem's glass, Minh said, as if half-joking, “But dollars I like. Those pretty pieces of paper can turn hell into paradise, anywhere in the world.”

“My sentiment exactly.” Kiem chuckled.

Minh raised his glass. “Now, a toast, to dollars!”

They drank a toast to the one and only point upon which their opinions coincided.

“My brother is an extraordinary man,” Minh said. “He's a solid pillar in our family and the protector of our household.”

“I too respect the major. He's a man of great ability. All enterprises in Quang Nam Province are now in his hands.”

Minh pretended to be drunk and went on in slightly slurred speech, “But I say this, you know, too much ability can mean too many arbitrary decisions, that's what I say.”

He chuckled and continued. “What's this ability of his all about, anyway? The talent of making money . . . with the governor behind him, is that what it is? Making me idle like this, and allowing you to lay hands on a little extra income, I'm sure. But when you think of it, what we see is merely a grain of rice stuck under a child's nose compared to what my brother and General Liam are wolfing down, if you know what I mean.”

Kiem also almost blurted out something he had been choking back, but he managed to maintain his composure, and with a sense of decorum he said, “I can't believe you're saying this. The major is trying his best to work out many different things.”

“Ah, no doubt he is trying hard. But come now, let's stop beating around the bush and see if we can come to an agreement on one thing.”

Minh held up one finger. Kiem felt his heart pounding. He avoided Minh's bloodshot eyes.

“What sort of agreement?”

“Ah, well, nothing so special. You and I, let's stop being burdens to Major Pham Quyen anymore, that's all I'm saying.”

“Burdens?”

“Don't play the fool. If you and I work together, we can do much better than Liam and my brother. My point is, why can't we be independent, too?”

“You have some kind of plan in mind?” Kiem asked quietly.

“What do you know about the phoenix hamlets project, Lieutenant?”

“Well, its, uh . . .” Kiem hesitantly replied, “It's under the jurisdiction of the Developmental Revolution Committee. General Liam is the chairman of the committee, and Major Pham is one of the key members and should know all about it.”

“As I understand it, the Autonomous Residents Councils have been formed, is that not right?”

“Yes, and the major and I will be in charge of that program.”

“What about militia training and control?”

“I'm handling the job of liaison officer, but the training and command of the militia are under the Second Division military commander. The superintendent of the Da Nang police is to give support.”

“Isn't the Second Division supposed to be providing perimeter defense for the stations?”

Gradually, Kiem began to grasp the intention of Pham Minh's string of questions. Kiem explained the situation point by point.

“Officially, the Second Division is in charge of establishing and training as well as combat operations of the militias. However, they are supposed to set up a corps of training instructors who will be put under the command of the provincial office. A captain will be dispatched to our office as a liaison for the instructors. Since the militias are made up of civilians from each hamlet, the background investigations and other problems concerning conscription into the militia are under the jurisdiction of the police superintendent.”

“Aren't you the one holding the key to the important matters?”

“In the end, yes, depending upon my effort . . . but then, what I actually do will depend on what orders my superior, Major Pham, gives me to carry out.”

“There's a famous saying: ‘In the military, duty means more than rank,'” said Pham Minh. “As far as the militia goes, I think your role is extremely important. Administering the militia is your duty.”

Kiem nodded. “In principle, it is.”

Having said this, Kiem stretched out his torso, still avoiding Minh's gaze. Then, glancing up at the colorful patterns on the ceiling, he asked, “What is the favor that you said you wanted to ask?”

“To think over the matter we agreed upon, that's all.”

“Did we agree on something?”

“That you and I should have an independent business together.”