The Shadow of Arms (51 page)

Cole: At that moment Lieutenant Sloat abruptly awoke from sleep. He may have sensed something suspicious from our whispering in Vietnamese. He asked Sergeant Nguyen why the interrogation had stopped.

Nguyen
: I responded that the suspect no longer seemed to feel any pain. But when the boy made some moaning sounds, the lieutenant asked me to hurry and interpret. I said it meant, “dear Buddha, I want to rest.” The lieutenant told me not to lie, and said he'd use the knife again unless I told the truth. That was when the guard brought breakfast in.

Brown: It was strong coffee and bacon. They ate breakfast, sitting their cups and plates on the desk right beside the bloodied boy.

Cole: After the meal was over, Lieutenant Sloat took me outside and, putting his hand on my shoulder, said in a soothing tone: once you get the necessary information you can have your rank reinstated and head back to your duty. Who knows, he said, your major might even arrange for an honorable discharge. He said that Nguyen had been playing games from the start. The boy must have revealed something important. I said he was mistaken and that the boy had been saying the same thing over and over. Sloat suddenly turned around and opened the Quonset door, summoning the guard. Drag that Vietnamese bastard out of here, he ordered. Then, half-hysterical, he said Nguyen should be locked up until someone came from his unit to collect him. Nguyen bowed to Howard and me and then left with the guard. Sloat said to McCoy, let's you and I do it together. He looked completely insane. As soon as he picked up the knife, he started yelling at the boy in English to tell him where the guerrillas were, and then he stabbed the boy in the knee.

Brown: I'll never forget his eyes and face at that moment as long as I live. The boy suddenly opened his eyes and glared at the lieutenant, biting his terribly swollen lips and grinding his teeth with his whole face shaking. Lieutenant Sloat dropped the knife and took a step back. I screamed that I was getting out, I'm going back to my cell. I kicked the Quonset door open and staggered out. From behind, the lieutenant shouted for me to stop, but I kept on walking. The guard ran after me and ordered me to stop, but I didn't. I heard a gun fire. Sand splashed up at my feet. Two more shots were fired. I fell on the spot with my face hitting the sand.

Interrogator: After that, did you receive medical treatment in the hospital?

Brown: Yes, it was a through shot.

Cole: Once Howard had been carried away, Lieutenant Sloat looked down at the boy for a while and then in a unnerved voice shouted, You better not die, you little bastard! He slapped the boy's face. Then he called the medic. The lieutenant told McCoy to call a helicopter and take the boy to the hospital. He murmured, We've got to keep him alive at all costs and get the information out of him. We can start over from the beginning. Hearing those words, I made up my mind.

Interrogator: About what?

Cole: I decided it was time to give the boy his freedom to die. I spoke to Sloat, telling him I'd overheard the boy talking to Sergeant Nguyen. I said the boy had confessed that he was taking the stuff to his uncle in the swamp near Dien Banh. Sloat took Sergeant McCoy and me and hurried us to the staff headquarters. A helicopter assault force was already lifting off, having been alerted by wireless. There in the air-conditioned office of the headquarters, I watched as an outsider and secretly laughed at their hectic rushing about. For the helicopters would find nothing at that place. I just wanted to give the boy some time to die in peace even if it meant lying. As I sat in the chair drinking ice water, the medic came in and reported that the boy was dead. Lieutenant Sloat kept making phone calls, and I heard him give an order to pick out any bastard they wanted from among the prisoners and bury the boy. McCoy went out.

Interrogator: Private Taylor, I believe the time has come for you to testify.

Taylor: That sergeant brought a guard with him to our work site and asked who among us knew Marvin Cole. I'd been worrying about Marvin and Howard because they had not returned since lunchtime the day before. The three of us had become good pals while living together the past year in that prison. I said I was their close friend and asked whether something had happened to them. McCoy said they were enjoying a poker game in an air-conditioned room. I felt a bit uneasy, but not knowing what was going on, I followed him over to the Quonset hut. Inside was so dark that at first I couldn't see anything. The sergeant who was behind me threw a vinyl bag to me and told me to put the bastard on the desk inside of it. It was a heavy, waterproof body bag used for soldiers killed in action. I opened the zipper and started to load the corpse in legs first.

Interrogator: Just describe the location and condition of the wounds, please.

Taylor: Both knees were deeply punctured and the thighs were flapping, sliced in a half-moon shape. His face was swollen and the desk was soaked with blood from cuts on his back. His eyes were open. Because of the pitiful expression of the dead little boy, his slanted eyes wide open under that pale forehead, I somehow felt he was on our side. I only learned later that he was a suspected Viet Cong. I decided to shut his eyes, and the paper-thin eyelids slid closed under my palm. Then I carried the vinyl body bag out to a place behind the garbage incinerator.

Interrogator: Did you go with the sergeant?

Taylor: Yes, he led the way. He walked in front with a shovel and I followed, dragging the vinyl bag by one end. I guess I was pulling the ankles, and the head and torso were dragging in the sand.

Interrogator: Did you bury the corpse?

Taylor: The sergeant threw the shovel down at my feet. I dug a hole as deep as my waist . . . and then he gave me a hand. We each held one end of the bag and tossed it down into the hole.

Interrogator
: Can you remember the place?

Taylor: Well, I'm not so sure since it was sandy in all directions.

Interrogator: Lieutenant Sloat and Sergeant McCoy, is there anything else you want to state for the record?

M
c
Coy: General Westmoreland's search-and-destroy operations will judge a mishap of this kind as something inevitable under the exceptional circumstances of battle in Vietnam. As a professional soldier, I've done my duty faithfully.

Interrogator: How about you Lieutenant Sloat?

Sloat: Nothing, sir.

Interrogator: Just a while ago, Private Marvin Cole testified that he had lied about the confession. So did you not end up wasting combat resources?

Sloat: No, sir. We annihilated an entire company of the enemy in the swamp near Dien Banh. The information proved to be most valuable.

Footnote:

 

 

31

The pleasant sound of balls hitting rackets came from the tennis courts. The maid brought in some coffee and bread. Pham Quyen set the English newspaper down, and buttering a piece of baguette, said, “Those Americans, playing tennis! What idiots!”

Hae Jong misunderstood what he meant. “Do you find it noisy? I kind of like the sound.”

From the direction of the tree line, laughter was audible. High-ranking American officers played tennis religiously every morning. Before, Pham Quyen and Hae Jong had joined in the games from time to time. The Americans had welcomed Hae Jong with open arms but cold-shouldered the Vietnamese officer. It was one of those old customs observed by white people toward the natives of their colonies. Strictly speaking, the US military's rule barring the locals from entering the bars and restaurants was just another remnant of the old white colonialist customs. There was no real difference between the French in Indochina and the British in India.

“This is my country. A few miles from here people are dying, dropping like flies, but here . . . a tennis match every morning. It isn't right.”

“Please, stop talking about death. We're eating breakfast.”

Hae Jong took a sip of her coffee. She sensed Pham Quyen's sour mood and said to him, “They're like that wherever they go. You should get some exercise, too.”

“I don't want to play tennis. If I go down there in shorts and with a racket, they'll all stop and stare at me.”

“It's because they're fighting against your own countrymen. But what about the general's villa in Bai Bang? It has a wonderful pool, why not take me there once in a while?”

“I get too much exercise, that's my problem. Do you have any idea how busy I've been lately? My belly has even melted away. At this rate, I'll become an alpinist.”

“Are you headed up into the mountains again today?”

“What do you mean ‘again today'? We have to finish everything in one month. I don't think it can be done. We should set up a headquarters in Ha Thanh and just stay there.”

Pham Quyen wiped his fingers with a napkin and got to his feet. “My uniform.”

Hae Jong called the maid and in awkward Vietnamese told her to bring the major's clothes. Standing behind him after he had changed into his crisply starched uniform, she said, “So you mean you'll be staying in the jungle?”

“The harvesting starts today.”

“I don't like it. This place is not like in the city, and I'm scared to stay out here in the middle of nowhere all alone.”

“You have nothing to worry about.”

After putting on his hat, Quyen went out into the living room and sat down on the couch. A minute later he was ready to leave.

“What's there to be afraid of? You're not a child. We'll have workers from Nyugen Cuong's side as well as from ours, but the soldiers are all under the Second Division commander and I'll have to keep a close eye on them. We have to protect our cinnamon.”

Hae Jong gave in. “You're right, the work is important.”

The cinnamon collection operation up in the highlands, which Pham Quyen had planned a month earlier, was going ahead without a hitch. One of the branches of the Thu Bon River ran through Da Nang but the main flow spread through the Hoi An region where half a dozen branches had formed a delta. From the delta the river wound back and ran parallel to Route 1 up to East Tuanh Bay north of Chu Lai. Upstream there are two main tributaries of the Thu Bon: the northern stream has its source in the highlands near the settlements of An Diem and Lien Hiep, while the southern stream gathers at a junction near Tabik, from which a branch also runs down southeast into the Chang River, irrigating the fields of Tam Ky.

Pham Quyen and Nguyen Cuong had gone up in General Liam's Cobra and surveyed from the air the entire region southeast of Da Nang and on up into the highlands. Starting from An Diem, they had made a round of the Quoi River, which runs through Bien Jiang, passed the Hiep bank up the Chang River toward Tabik, then across the Jiang Hoa fields to Ha Thanh and back to An Diem. At last Nguyen Cuong spotted a large stand of cinnamon trees and cried out. Pham Quyen's heart leapt as he peered down through his binoculars. It was indeed a sight: the cinnamon forest went on and on, most of the trees too large for a man to clasp his arms around the trunks. An entire section of the jungle covered with cinnamon trees.

After passing over a few times, Cuong gave his opinion. They needed to make a ground survey for a closer look, but that it appeared to him there was another stand of cinnamon trees across the Quoi River, too. The produce from the cinnamon harvest in the region running from An Diem past Ha Thanh toward Tabik, Phuoc Binh and An Hoa ought, he said, to sell for over one hundred million piasters.

“Before this dry season is over we should be able to manage a couple of harvesting operations. The monsoon comes in September, so we have no time to loose. Once the rains come, nothing will be possible until next March.”

“You can have them go on working, can't you?”

“We can't keep the soldiers in the field for that long. We'll have to try to salvage a crop worth fifty million piasters from a shorter intensive operation.”

The corners of Hae Jong's eyes narrowed as she asked, “And what will be our share?”

“Well . . . about ten million, I suppose.”

“Why so little?”

“The area is under the jurisdiction of the Second Division commander, General Van Toan. And from his share something will have to go to the mayor of Hoi An. General Liam will take at least three-fifths, which doesn't leave much for Cuong and me.”

“But the jungle is so vast, you say. Why not divide the area up?”

“It's not easy to get workers.”

Hae Jong lit a cigarette, took a long drag, and after thinking for a moment said, “Aren't the residents of the resettlement villages under your jurisdiction? You can use them.”

“Not a bad idea. Well, I'll be back. I'll let you know if we decide to stay up in Ha Thanh.”

Pham Quyen knelt down in the front hall to tie up the laces on his combat boots.

“If I'm not at home,” Hae Jong said from behind him, “come find me at the Sports Club.”

“You mean you're going back to Madame Lin's?” Quyen asked in a sullen tone. “What do you do there, anyway? Play cards and flirt with junior American officers?”

“I guess so,” she said, nodding. “The piasters you'll be bringing in will need to be converted into dollars, and when that accumulates we'll want to convert it all into a check redeemable abroad. You know we can't leave the country with cash.”

Pham Quyen sighed. “It seems like you're in too much of a hurry.”

“Wait and see. We only have a year left. Maybe even not that long.”

“Don't worry. General Liam will be asked to join the Cabinet.”

Hae Jong pushed him softly. “If he joins the government of Saigon, he'll change his mount. He doesn't trust you, never has. You're his horse in Da Nang, but he'll have a fresh one waiting in Saigon. I know how things work in high society.”

Pham Quyen got into the Land Rover and was soon driving along Son Tinh beach. It was early in the morning, but already the mist was lifting and lingered visibly only at the distant edge of the forest. He had left home so early not to go to the office, but to pay a visit to the governor of Bai Bang. He passed through downtown, crossed the smokestack bridge, and in high spirits headed toward Monkey Mountain, north of the bay of Da Nang. The Land Rover clung firmly to the road as it crept forward like a scarab. After entering through the main gate to the headquarters compound he took the road to the left, spooking a flock of birds that raucously lifted into the air. The sea seemed rather calm. He passed under the watchtower and pulled into the parking lot. The leader of the sentry detachment, a staff sergeant, saluted him. As usual, Major Pham took out his revolver and handed it over.

“Is the old man here?”

“He is, over there.” Smiling slightly, the sergeant pointed the way. Pham Quyen heard splashing coming from the swimming pool behind the house. The dew on the grass reflected the morning sunlight and the water looked crystal clear against the white tile lining the bottom of the pool. The general's favorite concubine, half-French, half-Vietnamese, clad in a scarlet bikini, was doing a backstroke across the pool, showing of her smooth, long legs. The general was stretched on a folding chair on the right side of the pool in the shade of some wisteria vines. Pham Quyen stopped a few feet away and saluted.

“Welcome. Come over and sit down,” the general said, taking his sunglasses off and placing them on the table he'd been using as an armrest.

When Quyen looked back, the woman held up one arm and shouted, “Good morning, Major! Come swim with me!”

Pham Quyen answered with a stiff salute and stood next to the general.

“So, the operation starts today?”

“Yes, sir,” replied Pham Quyen, taking a map out of his pocket and unfolding it on the table. “MAC will provide helicopter support and the Second Division will supply combat forces, using Ha Thanh and An Hoa as base camps. We'll mobilize trucks, bulldozers, and tanks. The areas with concentrations of cinnamon are here, and here.” He pointed to the highlands area where the Thu Bon River forked into two tributaries.

“I called Major General Van Toan myself.”

“Yes sir, I'm aware. I'm supposed to meet him at An Hoa. The official reason for this operation will be the pacification of the refugee settlements at An Diem and An Hoa. An Diem is to be a test zone for the phoenix hamlets projects, and the Developmental Revolution Committee has planned to establish a large-scale industrial complex at An Hoa by resettling rural farmers. Deforestation is a necessary step to make the jungle farmable.”

“We should have a security battalion set up a base for defending and controlling An Diem and An Hoa districts.”

“I am sure we can mobilize troops from elsewhere in Quang Nam Province, sir.”

The Chinese cook brought out a tray heaping with fruit and cookies. The woman got out of the pool dripping with water. Pham Quyen picked up a towel from the back of a chair and wrapped it around her.

“
Merci.
” She dried her wet hair with the towel. “What are you two plotting?”

“Take my helicopter. And next time you should accompany us on our trip to Saigon.”

“I would be honored to, sir.”

General Liam picked up a cold slice of melon and mumbled, “At least now we're spending our time on a worthwhile enterprise. In Saigon, everything's in a chaos. That's what worries the president. He had announced that the military government should step aside as soon as possible, but it's only been a few months since the election and he's already complaining about the corruption.”

“When things are rushed, there's bound to be collateral damage,” Pham Quyen said gravely.

“Which is why I'm counting on you,” the general readily agreed. “Both General Nguyen Phu Quoc and Dang Van Quang, who fell out of the prime minister's favor last year, were dismissed because they ignored the general consensus. Quoc has twelve children and always seemed to have a new girlfriend. Those close to him knew about the real estate swindles for a long time. Now he's in Taiwan.”

“So he slipped away. What's he doing there?”

“He's arranging overseas business for some of the politicians and active-duty generals with whom he was connected here. Quang is back in the government, acting as a commercial deputy for the president.” General Liam scrutinized Pham Quyen with a piercing stare. “After all, that's what it's like in Saigon. We're too far away here. You should also quit active duty. And work for me abroad.”

“Are you preparing to join the Cabinet, sir?”

“I'm preparing for many different things. The key is to choose the right line. There has not as yet been any conflict between His Excellency and the vice-president, but the balance of power is tense. To lose the favor of either side would not be good. You can't ignore the young generals on the side of the reformers, but neither can you slight practical power. I'm afraid it'll cost a lot.”

Pham Quyen straightened himself up and said, “I understand, sir. I'll serve you the best that I can.”

“We'd better have enough cash ready. Jewelry's not bad, either.”

“Before your trip to Saigon, let me have a list of your supporters. I'll make detailed investigations into their families, relations with friends and relatives, and work out some contingency plans.”

“I suppose you ought to. You may go now.”

Pham Quyen got up and saluted the governor. Then he bowed to the French-Vietnamese woman. As soon as he was gone, the woman, who had been quietly listening to the conversation, asked, “Can you trust that man?”

“What do you think?”

“Looks extremely ambitious. Also very meticulous.”

The governor lightly pulled her ear. “Is that your way of saying you find him to your liking?”

“The longer you use a thing the better it suits you, but I don't think it's true with people,” was the woman's witty reply.

The governor's smile was gone and with dignity he said, “We'll just have to wait and see.”

Pham Quyen went straight to the heliport at corps headquarters and got aboard the general's private helicopter, a Cobra. They took off and headed on their way alone, without any escort of gunships. It was ten after nine. The helicopter climbed into the skies over Da Nang and was cruising over the long expanse of rice paddies beyond Dong Dao when a formation of US gunships came into view ahead.

“They're going the same direction, sir,” the pilot remarked.

“The offensive begins at nine, that's why.”

At the order of the operations headquarters, the gunships were going to bomb several suspected strongholds. It would only be intimidation fire, but it would benefit the US as much as the NLF. The NLF would read it as the opening of a large-scale operation and retreat deep into the jungle and far from the operations zone. And the US forces would see it as confirmation of the progress of the pacification operations by the ARVN Second Division.