Saigon (38 page)

Joseph and the other OSS men on the balcony shook their heads in horror. 

“One of his aides told me they’ve had a succession of bad harvests down there — but the Japs and the French still kept demanding their full quotas of rice,” whispered Hawke grimly. 

But the truth is, citizens of Vietnam, we’ve wrested our independence finally not from France but from the Japanese,” said Ho, raising his voice again to a shout. “The French have fled, the Japanese have capitulated, and the Emperor Bao Dai has abdicated! At long last we’ve broken the chains which have bound us for nearly a century, and we declare here and now that as from today all contacts of a colonial nature with France are at an end!” 

Once again the dense throng of people acclaimed their new president’s rousing words, and pandemonium reigned for a minute or two. When the square finally quietened again the faint drone of aircraft engines could be heard in the distance, and glancing up, Joseph spotted the familiar outlines of a squadron of reconnaissance P-38s of the Fourteenth U.S. Army Air Force winging north towards Kunming across the bright afternoon sky. As he watched, he saw the squadron wheel suddenly and begin dipping down to take a closer look at the massive crowd that was obviously visible to the pilots from a high altitude. 

“We’re confident now,” continued Ho, glancing up at the approaching planes, “that the Allied nations will keep faith with their principles of self-determination and equality and will acknowledge the independence of Vietnam. We’re sure they’ll agree that people who have fought side by side with them against the Japanese must be free and independent He stopped and looked up again; the blue roundels and silver stars on the wings and fuselages of the P-38s identified them beyond any doubt as American as they drew nearer, and the OSS men realized —probably simultaneously with Ho — that yet another stroke of good fortune had delivered a U.S. reconnaissance patrol into his hands at the most opportune moment; for all the world the planes appeared to be staging an Allied fly-past in support of the new Viet Minh regime, and Ho raised his voice again to make it heard above the roar of their engines. 

“So at this historic hour, fellow citizens, the Provisional Government of the Democratic Republic of Vietnam solemnly declares to the world that Vietnam has the right to be free and independent country — and that it is indeed already free! We further declare that we are determined never to yield again to France! Our people will fight with all their strength and spirit, and if necessary they will lay down their lives and sacrifice all their property to safeguard this precious newfound liberty!” 

As the cheering began Ho Chi Minh stepped back from the microphone and raised his clenched fist above his head in a dramatic salute; a moment later the fighter squadron swept in low over the city. To the surprise of the OSS men, a band struck up “The Star-Spangled Banner,” and contingents of guerrillas began marching past in the square below with their new weapons, Seeing this, a smiling Colonel Trench threw up a Smart salute and held it as cameras clicked to record the historic moment. Joseph and the other OSS soldiers followed suit, and the crowd applauded rapturously as President Ho Chi Minh smiled warmly in the direction of his powerful American benefactors who had unwittingly played a vital role in bringing him and his supporters to power. 

Although the rest of Saigon was unrecognizable as the tranquil colonial capital he’d once known, the circular, red-lacquered moon gate in the wall surrounding the Imperial Delegate’s residence looked just the same to Joseph as it had in 1936. The same bronze temple bell hung from the curved eaves of its little roof, and even from the driver’s seat of his OSS jeep parked at the curb, he could smell the damp, heady fragrances of the fleshy-leaved tropical trees and flowers growing inside the walled garden. It was beginning to grow dark, and when he cut the jeep’s engine, silence descended suddenly on the tree-lined street north of the cathedral square. For a moment the quiet unnerved him, then the stutter of distant gunfire broke the stillness again and curiously made him breathe more easily; the sounds of disorder and conflict, he realized, somehow helped him feel less guilty about making the 

Ever since accepting assignment to Saigon two weeks before, he had known he wouldn’t be able to resist the temptation to try to see Lan again. Although he knew she had almost certainly married Paul Devraux and although he fully realized it was foolish and fruitless to try to turn back the clock, he’d been unable to stay away. He knew that the rational, sensible course would have been to forget the past — but that intense, all-engulfing sense of regret that had seized him when he thought he must die in his blazing Warhawk without ever seeing her again had overridden all his reasoned arguments. Countless times while waiting impatiently for the Chinese occupation forces to arrive in Hanoi and while undergoing the ritual of formal briefings for the new Saigon post back in Kunming, he had savored in his mind the moment when he would step up the red gate and ring the tiny bell. He had even sought out Kim before leaving Hanoi and asked him if he had any messages for his family so as to give himself a valid excuse to visit the Tran household. Kim had flushed and tried to hide his embarrassment, then, avoiding Joseph’s eyes, had said gruffly he had no message for his parents except that he was in good health and glad to be fighting at the side of President Ho Chi Minh for the cause of his country’s freedom. 

But as he made to climb out of his seat, Joseph hesitated, filled suddenly with doubt and apprehension. Although the red gates remained closed, he felt he could see the neat clusters of palms framing the curved roofs just as they’d done on his last visit; he saw again too, in his mind’s eye, the shadowy room with its dark teak furniture and its hanging scrolls where he had been shocked to learn almost in the same moment of Jacques Devraux’s death and Lan’s rejection. Something of the youthful despair he had felt then surged back, and he remembered with renewed force just how greatly time had changed both their lives; now he had a wife and two young sons in Virginia, and Lan was also probably married. 

But although these thoughts seethed inside his head, still he didn’t restart the jeep. As he sat staring indecisively at the red gate, he knew that no matter what embarrassment and disappointment lay beyond it, he couldn’t go away without trying to see her again, if only for a moment; he knew he couldn’t live the rest of his life without attempting to find out whether it had all been a foolish dream, whether the restless sense of discontent from which he had never been able to free himself since losing Lan was real or imagined. 

For a minute or two after he jangled the bell there was no response; there appeared to be no movement in the house, and Joseph wondered suddenly why he had expected to find the Tran family still living there when so much else had changed in Saigon. The. previous day he and Lieutenant Hawke had driven into the city from the airport, beneath banners proclaiming “Welcome to the British and the Americans — but we have no room for the French.” Along the roadsides, sullen, narrow-eyed Japanese soldiers of the Imperial Nipponese Army stood guard dressed in their distinctive crumpled forage caps and puttees; on the pavements behind them jubilant crowds of Vietnamese cheered the small advance contingents of the British Army’s Twentieth Indian Division who were arriving daily from Rangoon by air to disarm and repatriate the defeated forces. Until a sufficiently large Allied force was assembled to take over from them, the forty thousand Japanese soldiers were having to help patrol the uneasy city, but they were performing their duties listlessly and without enthusiasm. 

Among the flags of Britain, America, China and Russia draped across the streets, there was no sign of the French tricolor, and outside the Hotel de Ville at the top of the Boulevard Charner where the Viet Minh Committee for the South had set up its headquarters, Joseph had seen armed Vietnamese guerrillas standing defiantly on guard. The French colonial troops were still prisoners behind the wires of the concentration camps into which the Japanese had forced them at gunpoint in March, and on the Rue Catinat, which had been renamed the “Street of the Paris Commune,” the once-fashionable French shops were shuttered and begrimed. Looting of isolated French properties had begun, and few of the twenty thousand French civilians who remained at liberty were visible in streets where there were no white troops to protect them. The small number of Indians and Gurkhas who had already arrived were fully occupied guarding the airfield, the power station, banks and police stations, and the main bulk of the British force was not expected to arrive by sea until early October. When Joseph and Lieutenant Hawke drove through the city on their first patrol after reporting to the OSS unit commander, they found the central markets standing silent and deserted because the Viet Minh had ordered a strike to protest against the British commanding officer’s refusal to hold talks with them. A dawn-to dusk curfew had been ordered, but there were not enough British troops to enforce it properly, and skirmishes between the various Vietnamese armed groups had become commonplace. 

A prolonged exchange of fire from the direction of the cathedral made Joseph turn his head to listen, and he didn’t notice when one semicircular segment of the moon gate swung open silently behind him, When he turned back he found himself looking into the unsmiling face of Lan’s brother Tam, and for a moment they stared at one another in surprise; then Joseph tore off his forage cap. 

“Tam! C’est moi, Joseph Sherman! Vous vous souvenez?” 

Tam gazed quizzically at the American’s grinning face and his captain’s shoulder bars, but made no attempt to widen the gap in the gate. “Yes, Captain Sherman, I remember you,” replied the Vietnamese uncertainly in French. “But why have you come back to Saigon?” 

“I’ve been assigned here with the American mission. I flew in yesterday. I’ve been in Hanoi and I met your brother Kim up there. I thought you and your parents might like to know that he’s in good health.” 

Tam’s eyes narrowed at the mention of his brother’s name, but otherwise his face remained expressionless and he made no reply. 

“Your mother arid father are well I hope, Tam,” said Joseph haltingly. “And your sister, Lan?” 

“Nobody is very well in Saigon today,” said Tam in a dull voice. “As you must know already, it’s a city filled with fear.” 

“Forgive me, Tarn, if I’m intruding, but I thought perhaps your mother would be glad to have some news of Kim. He told me he’d had no contact with you for many years.” 

After another moment’s hesitation Tam swung the gate open. “Come and wait inside. I will ask my mother if she wishes to speak with you.” 

The Vietnamese closed and barred the gate carefully, then walked ahead of Joseph towards the house, in the twilight the American saw that the garden had become wild and overgrown and the lotus pool was choked with weeds. By the time he reached the house Tam had disappeared inside, and he waited uncertainly on the steps. 

Several minutes passed before Lan’s mother appeared in the doorway with her son at her shoulder. “I’m surprised you have the audacity to return here, Captain Sherman, after what happened between you and my daughter,” she said quietly in French without looking at him directly. “I’ve come out to talk with you only because Tam tells me you have news of my son Kim.” 

To Joseph’s eyes, in the fading light the slender Vietnamese woman bore a striking resemblance to her daughter. Still beautiful in middle age, she was dressed in a dark, high-necked embroidered tunic and trousers, and she stood with her eyes downcast, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. Behind her, through the open door, Joseph could see candles flickering on the family’s ancestral altar as if he had disturbed her at prayer. “I’m sorry, Madame Hieu,” he began hesitantly. “I don’t understand.. 

She raised her head to look directly into his eyes, and he saw than that her face was stiff with unconcealed hostility. “What news have you, please, of my son Kim?” 

“I spent a week working with him in northern Tongking,” said Joseph quickly. “He’s a leading aide of Ho Chi Minh and he’s very highly thought of. Now he’s working with the new government in Hanoi.” 

A pained expression came into the eyes of the Vietnamese woman, and she turned her head away without responding. 

“I hope Monsieur Tran Van Hieu is well,” said Joseph, an edge of desperation creeping into his voice. “And Lan, how is she? Did she marry my good friend Paul Devraux?” 

When she turned to look at Joseph again, she was fighting to control the tears that had started to her eyes. “Yes, captain, she did. And they have a young son.” 

Joseph forced himself to smile. “That’s wonderful news. And did they stay in Saigon?” 

Madame Hieu lost her struggle to hold back her tears and she turned away again to bury her face in her son’s shoulder. “We’ve all been living under great strain, captain,” said Tam, putting a protective arm around his mother. “After their marriage Lan and her husband remained in Saigon, but Major Devraux, along with all the other French soldiers, was imprisoned by the Japanese six months ago. He’s still a prisoner. After he was taken away, Lan and her son came to live here with my parents and my own family for safety.” 

“May I see her, please?” asked Joseph, fighting down the agitation inside him. 

“She’s not here anymore captain. She and my father got caught tip in the violence of the independence day riots.” 

Joseph stared at the Vietnamese in alarm. “What happened?” 

“The Viet Minh organized a great parade to celebrate the declaration of independence in Hanoi, and my father and Lan went to watch. But trouble broke out around the cathedral. A French priest was shot on the front steps, and my father and Lan were knocked to the ground and trampled on when the crowd stampeded.” 

“And where are they now?” 

“My father is resting here at home, but Lan is still in hospital. She suffered concussion and was unconscious for a time.” 

“Which hospital is she in?” asked Joseph anxiously. 

“I forbid you to try and see her!” Madame 1-lieu raised her tear-stained face from her son’s shoulder. “She wouldn’t wish it. You’ve caused her enough unhappiness already. She’s to be released from the hospital soon, and we’ll all be leaving the city then.” 

Joseph, taken aback by the vehemence of her words, stared at the Vietnamese woman helplessly. “I don’t know what you mean, madam 

“My sister doesn’t wish to see you, captain,” said Tam firmly. “I think that must be clear to you.” 

“I’m very sorry,” stammered Joseph. “If there’s anything I can do to help His voice trailed off and he turned away in bafflement. He was halfway down the steps when he heard Madame Hieu call his name again. 

“Did my son Kim send any message, captain?” she asked tearfully. Joseph hesitated. “He asked me to tell you that he was happy to be helping bring freedom and independence to your country,” he said slowly. 

“Nothing else?” She searched Joseph’s face anxiously as she waited for his response. 

“He said he was very sad that he had not seen you all for so long,” said Joseph, lying without knowing why. “He said he thinks of you often.” 

Madame Hieu lifted both hands to her face and turned away into the house, weeping uncontrollably. 

“You had better. leave now, captain,” said Tam, motioning Joseph towards the gate. “And please, for my mother’s sake, don’t ever come here again.”