The Shadow of Arms (36 page)

“I understand, sir.”

“Hurry up, follow me.”

Yong Kyu looked around again and then hurried over to the old Jeep. The private ran behind. They drove back to Dong Dao junction. On the way Yong Kyu asked, “Hurt much?”

“Skin's broken.”

“Can't be helped. I've had it done to me, too. It's a soldier's life. Were you in combat?”

“I got out after five months, sir.”

“If you drop dead over here, you've got nobody but yourself to blame. Don't ever forget that. You and I, we both signed up as volunteers. And to make some money.”

“Like I said, that wasn't—”

“I know all about it. You see, here we are smack in the middle of an international marketplace. Are you armed?”

“Empty-handed, sir.”

Yong Kyu took a revolver out of his belt. “Take this. Loaded with six cartridges. You may end up on watch all night.”

“All night? Where?”

“Puohung Street. You'll see when we get there.”

“Spend the whole night on the street?”

“We'll find you some cover for a stakeout.”

“It's like going out on a one-man ambush! For that I need an automatic weapon.”

“It's the safest residential district in Da Nang.”

They passed the air force PX once more and turned left on Doc Lap Boulevard, crossed Le Loi Boulevard and came onto Puohung Street. From a distance they could see a wire barricade blocking half the street at a checkpoint. Yong Kyu pulled to a stop. Wearing his mercury-mirrored sunglasses, Toi came out of the sentry post with a Vietnamese QC officer.

“When did you get here?” Yong Kyu asked.

“About twenty minutes ago,” said Toi, glancing at his watch. “No sign of them yet.”

“I know. They haven't left the air force PX yet. Camera?”

“Here it is,” Toi said, pulling a long thin instamatic from his top pocket. “I got it from Hoa.”

“Let's go together.”

“Where to?”

“We need to find a hiding place near their house. I need your help.”

Toi got in the back of the Jeep. They drove up the street and stopped when they were within sight of the white cast-iron gate on the house occupied by Lieutenant Colonel Pak and his men. The sidewalk was lined with palm trees and Vietnamese were riding by on bicycles. Yong Kyu pointed to the white gate.

“That's the house. Keep an eye on that house and the moment you spot them taking the goods in there, notify us. The command post is the Dragon Palace Restaurant. Now, where'll be a good place for you?”

Yong Kyu looked around but there was not a single store or bar nearby, only residences with hedge fences or cinder-block walls. They walked down the street, looking for a suitable spot. They came upon a house with a low fence fashioned from reeds bound to wooden slats. Behind the fence on the porch there was a cot and a few chairs in one of which an old grandmother was cradling a baby in her arms. Toi told them to wait and went inside. After talking for some time with the old lady, he came out.

“Done. I promised to give them a few boxes of C-rations.”

“What did you tell her is going on?”

“The whole neighborhood knows about the Koreans living in that house. They told me two others live in another rented house on the next block. I told her that the Korean and Vietnamese QC units are checking on a minor offense. Until tomorrow morning we can use the chair in her yard as a lookout, that's the deal.”

“Follow him.”

The private went with Toi inside the house. A minute later, Toi, the private, and the old woman all came out. The grandmother stared suspiciously at the three men.

“Am I to stand duty with no dinner?” the private asked.

“Ah, I forgot. There are some beef ribs.”

Yong Kyu went back to the Jeep and brought a grease-stained brown bag.

“There's plenty, share it with the granny. As for the report, go to the checkpoint back there and make your call.”

“I understand.”

Toi said something else to the old woman and then made a polite bow. Yong Kyu and Toi went back to the checkpoint on Puohung Street.

“Why this sudden check on them?” Toi asked.

“When the yarn is tangled, you can't pull out a strand. This is to straighten the channels.”

“I don't get it.”

“The US side is hot and bothered. The Hong Kong Group's been meddling all around and so the channels are messed up, that's the story.”

“What are they dealing?”

“Cigarettes and beer.”

“If that's all, isn't it pretty easy?”

“Korean beer is moving in volume.”

“Ah, so it's swapping favors.”

“Get it now?”

“Cao must be pissed off, it's like snatching his customers.”

“We're trying to make the Hong Kong Group keep their hands off the beer.”

“Are you going to dry up the supply of Korean beer to the market?”

“Not exactly. We like having more of our beer out on the streets here. It's not military policy, though. Just a bright idea of some of the individuals among us who want a better cut.”

“What's that like for us, though? Get killed, maimed, and buy other people's beer?”

“It's the same money, after all. The money used to buy our beer comes from the US forces anyway.”

“Then who's going to handle marketing of Korean beer?”

“Well, it's not decided yet. I'd like the chief sergeant and Colonel Cao to be in charge, though.”

“Cao has his own channels.”

“He can always change.”

Toi chuckled. “This is not something I should meddle with, but don't you think the Americans will be upset?”

“To even things up, we'll be upset, too. Toi, do you think we're out in the Le Loi market only to spring a leak from the Turen supply warehouse? That's just a side job. First, we have to have inside details on the US activities, and then get information on the suppliers of the NLF as well as your own government forces.”

“A large quantity of weapons is being traded.”

“I know. But that's for later. First, we must find out who's dealing in A-rations.”

“How come?”

“Those who eat that stuff are the same ones who sell arms.”

Chuckling again, Toi said, “Hey, wake up, you passed the checkpoint, this is Doc Lap.”

“Right, let's turn around.” Yong Kyu made a U-turn at the intersection.

Toi said, “The economic section on the US side is moving their fresh fruits and vegetables out into the market before they go bad. With traffic out of the city cut off, the people of Da Nang have no choice but to buy California onions for twice or three times the price of those grown nearby. Same with potatoes and cabbage. The money is then used to pay wages for Vietnamese laborers or for military services. And here you are, selling beer . . .”

“There's not a single Japanese soldier here, but the PX warehouses are bursting with their appliances. And what we're trying to sell is some beer our privates are too poor to buy.”

“Very well. I'm your assistant, after all. When you arrest the Hong Kong Group, are you planning to chase them out of the country?”

“No. We're just going to limit their dealing to PX luxury goods. They can buy refrigerators, TVs, electric fans, cameras, and the like and resell them in the black market.”

“I see your plan is to dump them on us.”

“Right. Whether I get lost from here or just forgotten, in the end that's a problem for you to solve.”

“Here we are.”

“Listen, they'll present the ID of the chief sergeant. Don't give it back, just hang on to it.”

“Won't they be suspicious,” Toi asked as he got down from the Jeep.

“Tell them it'll take time to check it out and they can pick it up next time they go out.”

“I photograph them, confiscate their ID, let them pass through, and then I head back to the main office?”

“No, drop by the Dragon Palace and see Pointer before you return. If you've got nothing better to do, come down to the pier. I'll be on stakeout there tonight.”

Toi waved to Yong Kyu with a knowing gesture, and the latter drove on back to the Dragon Palace Restaurant.

At 17:10 a phone call came from the air force PX with the message that the vehicle had left. The man on duty asked what he should do next and the captain ordered him to return to the Grand Hotel. In the truck were the man called Pig and a driver, and the cargo was Salem cigarettes. At 17:25, they got a call from Toi. The captain handed the receiver to Yong Kyu.

“Sergeant Ahn speaking.”

“The vehicle's just come through. I took the picture. The ID is in my possession.”

“Well done. You're done for the day.”

“When does your duty on
the pier start?”

Fifteen minutes later there was a third call. It was from the private.

“They've gone into the house. The number of the brigade vehicle was confirmed, too.”

“Good work, keep it up. When the truck leaves the house, call me again from the checkpoint and then go back to your lookout post. Everything going all right there?”

“Yes, sir. The family offered me dinner. The man of the house came home, and it looks like he's a schoolteacher. They gave me a poncho to use. Am I to stay there all night and keep reporting to the Dragon Palace?”

“Yes. The sergeant will be there until morning.”

“The phone calls make it inconvenient.”

“Don't worry. Once the truck's gone, we know the destination, a bit of a delay won't matter. Tomorrow morning we'll all be coming to that house.”

“I understand, sir.”

Yong Kyu reported to the captain.

“Now, we've got that operation under control,” the captain said to the sergeant. “I'm heading out, so call me at the hotel when the job's done. Give Sergeant Ahn a lift to the pier and then take the guy from the marine PX over to the supply warehouse.”

“If the evidence is solid down at the pier I'll make an immediate arrest, sir,” said Yong Kyu. The captain nodded.

“Right. A Vietnamese worker, if not the Pig himself, will show up. Take them straight to the police station and lock them up. Tomorrow morning at six, we'll go and wake up the so-called chairman, Pak.”

 

 

24

The ship had already arrived and was berthed alongside the dock in the inner harbor reserved for navy vessels. The whale-like mouth of the landing ship was gaping wide. Beneath it, waves rhythmically beat and broke on the iron hull. After unloading, the navy transport would remain at berth for a day of rest and then return to Vung Tau harbor.

A double wire barricade had been erected at the pier to demarcate the military from the civilian sector. After 1800 hours only vehicle traffic was permitted in and out. Here and there Vietnamese sailors armed with carbines were posted as sentries. Searchlights constantly licked over the waters of the bay that was strictly off-limits to civilian watercraft. Anyone approaching the shore without advance clearance would be met with a burst of fire from the machine gun nests up and down the coast.

Vehicles with access passes were moving cargo from the stockpiles rising along the docks. The sound of cranes was deafening and constant. Sitting on the grass at the rotary overlooking the guarded gate above the pier, Yong Kyu was scanning the activity at Da Nang harbor as darkness began to fall. Toi eventually showed up.

“Hey, buddy, this spot is no good. If they use a military truck and sneak out through the far side you won't be able to see them from here. Besides, if you hang around here in civilian clothes for too long, you'll attract suspicion not only from the guards but also from lookouts on the ships. Have they come?”

“The master sergeant from the supply corps detachment is down there. No sign of the Hong Kong Group yet.”

“Eaten?”

“No, I'm in between—not hungry, not full. It was the ribs, I guess.”

“Cough up some cash, let's get some
bánh mì
.”

Yong Kyu handed Toi a one-dollar military note. “Get me some, too. I like lots of red pepper on mine, you know.”

Toi crossed the main road for the
bánh mì
. After hearing Toi's opinion, Yong Kyu felt uncomfortable staying where he was. Dressed in a baggy shirt and work pants with long and unkempt hair, he feared someone might take him for a guerilla slinking around the pier. Also, there was a chance that the Pig or the staff sergeant might recognize him somehow and abort the deal.

Yong Kyu had come packing a .45 automatic, on loan from the chief sergeant, holstered inside his shirt under his armpit. The leather shoulder holster was so heavy and bulky he felt like his ribs were in a plaster cast. Slowly Yong Kyu got to his feet and walked down to the right toward the white wall of the Da Nang customs house. A cement lattice was reinforced with a thick barbed wire fence and he plopped down at the foot of the wall with his back to it. Toi came back and started looking around for him.

“Over here,” Yong Kyu called out.

“You moved to an even worse place,” Toi said, holding out a can of beer and the
bánh mì
, a long loaf of French bread stuffed with vegetables. “Might as well come in full uniform and mount a lookout tower. I see a good spot over there.”

Toi pointed to a dark place around the corner from the customs house. The lampposts cast a bright light on the white customs house and on the pier area just below, but there were two enormous sycamore trees nearby and through their foliage another white building was visible in the shadows. It was a two-story residence with an elevated terrace jutting out toward the pier, overlooking the bay.

“If we sit up there we'll have an overview of the whole area, what do you say?”

“It's a private home. We'll be taken for burglars.”

“Let's go on up first. If the owner comes out we can quietly ask for his cooperation.”

“It's a very nice house. If it belongs to somebody of high rank, it'll be a problem. He'll complain to headquarters later.”

Yong Kyu was reluctant, but Toi took the lead and moved down along the wall toward the residence. “Just follow me.”

They reached the corner of the customs house. By grasping the wire strands, they climbed up the wall and reached overhead to the railings of the overhanging veranda of the house. Toi confidently grabbed a railing, and with a single motion pulled himself up onto the veranda. Yong Kyu, too, despite his doubts, clambered up the wall and grabbed Toi's extended hand.

“Come on up, hold on.”

Yong Kyu was being pulled up by Toi when, from out of the darkness, there came the ferocious barking of a dog. It was loud enough to wake the entire house.

“That's a German shepherd. Don't worry, it's leashed.”

Yong Kyu flopped over onto the veranda next to Toi. The dog was barking more furiously than before. The front yard down below was suddenly brightly illuminated. Someone must have turned on the porch light. A man's voice shouted something.

“What's he saying?”

“Asking who's there.”

“You handle this.”

The room opening onto the veranda was unlit and seemed empty. Yong Kyu tried to open the sliding glass door but it would not budge. A man's quaking voice came up from directly below the veranda. Toi stepped forward and replied in Vietnamese. The man below was silent for a moment, then the sound of metal clinking was heard.

“It's a submachine gun,” Toi said. “You should put your hands up like me.”

As a bright flashlight showered their faces, Toi and Yong Kyu half-stood from their squatting positions with both hands in the air. There seemed to be two people on the ground below.

“Take out your ID and throw it down to them,” Toi said.

Yong Kyu did as told. There was brief whispering and then one of the men spoke in English.

“You invaded a civilian residence without permission. We can't trust your identification. Come down here. The Korean first.”

The flashlight moved to a narrow passage between the roof and the veranda.

“Walk straight over there and you'll find a metal staircase. Come down. And no unnecessary movements.”

Yong Kyu fumbled his way down the metal steps. He had no choice but to assume a position with his back to them. The staircase was steep like a ladder and very wobbly. He reached the ground and then Toi followed after. Two men were standing there. The lankier of the two had a submachine gun aimed at them while the heavier one was holding the flashlight.

“Turn around and put your hands on the wall.”

“You've seen the ID,” Yong Kyu said without moving. “Isn't that good enough? We're on duty assigned for joint investigation with the national police. You're interfering with our duty.”

“Sergeant, we understand that you're here as an allied force to help us, but, say what you will, this clearly was a house break-in. I'm going to report you to a department I know. Let's go inside.”

Toi said something in return, but the older man responded sharply in a reproachful tone. They turned to enter the interior of the house. Without warning, a black form rushed up and jumped at Yong Kyu. It was the German shepherd, a dog about half Yong Kyu's size. It bit him on the arm and held on. Yong Kyu pulled out his .45 and started to aim it at the dog's head.

“Don't shoot,” a feeble voice shouted.

The man holding the submachine gun struck the dog with the barrel and the dog emitted a squeal of pain and ran off. Yong Kyu could feel blood saturating his torn sleeve. The feeble voice turned out to belong to a boy with a blocked crew cut. The boy helped Yong Kyu to his feet and then led him quickly into the front hall.

“Go in, please.”

Behind them Toi had raised his voice and was protesting about something in Vietnamese. The boy yelled at them. Yong Kyu followed the boy into the living room and sat down on a wicker chair. Then the boy brought a first-aid kit and skillfully tore off the bottom of Yong Kyu's shirtsleeve. Not yet fully conscious of the pain, Yong Kyu gazed at the others in the room with a blank stare. The heavy-set middle-aged man was wearing glasses, sharply creased suit pants and a short-sleeved shirt. His hair was nearly white. The other man who had aimed the gun at them was in full ARVN uniform.

“I'm the director of the Da Nang Red Cross Hospital and this man is my chauffeur.”

Having said this, the older man gave some instructions to the boy and looked after Yong Kyu's wound himself. Blood was flowing from two deep punctures. It did not seem very serious, but the dog's teeth were so sharp the skin was lacerated as if sliced with a knife. After applying some Mercurochrome and antibiotic powder, the man wrapped a bandage around Yong Kyu's arm and said, “I'm sorry. We didn't mean to harm you. But you scared us. We thought you were guerillas.”

“But I showed you my ID.”

“Well, there you are. Only problem now is we can't be sure whether or not the dog has rabies.”

“Has what?”

“A disease that makes dogs go crazy.”

“Ah, I see. But to find out the dog will have to be killed.”

“No! He doesn't have rabies!” the boy yelled at Yong Kyu in a shrill voice.

Yong Kyu turned around and found that the armed chauffeur was gone. Toi was sitting across the room, still wearing his mercury-mirrored sunglasses and smoking a cigarette. The boy was standing beside a woman who had brought in drinks of some kind.

“Let us use your veranda for tonight and the dog won't be taken away,” Yong Kyu said.

“Just what were you doing up there anyway?”

The owner of the house asked and once more Toi began talking in an excited tone. The man nodded and then conferred with his wife.

“Very well,” the man said to Yong Kyu, “you'll be needing an inoculation.”

“A what?”

“A shot.”

“Fine. Toi, go on up and stay there. I'll take a short break.”

“Will you be all right?”

“Look, it's not like I stepped on a mine.”

Toi spoke with the boy, who then led him upstairs through the inside steps. The woman placed a glass of juice on the table, saying something in Vietnamese. Yong Kyu took off his bloodstained shirt and dropped it on the floor by his chair.

“If that's what it was you would've done better to request my cooperation through the police. Come to the hospital tomorrow and I'll have them give you a shot.”

“It's all right. And I'm sorry. Your veranda just happens to be a perfect lookout spot. We made a mistake.”

The boy came back down. Then another person walked in from the front hall facing the living room. It was a Vietnamese girl wearing a black
ahozai
. She was very slender and barefoot, with her long hair combed back.

“This is the first time a foreigner's been in my house,” said the hospital director. “This is my family. That is my wife, this little boy is my son, and the girl who just walked in is my daughter.”

Yong Kyu bowed to each of them in turn. The boy held out his hand with a smile but the girl just fixed her eyes on Yong Kyu with a stern glare. The mother spoke to her daughter, seemingly explaining what had happened. The boy spoke in English.

“I'm Huan, and I attend the Catholic Middle School. My father is Dr. Tran Van Thieu. My sister Phuoc, a senior at Pascal High School. My mother is Mrs. Hue.”

“I'm Sergeant Ann.”

“In our family, Father and I can communicate with you. In the old days, we had an American staying with us.”

“A medical officer, a surgeon, once worked at the Red Cross Hospital to help us. Thanks to him Huan speaks English pretty well. Where do you stay?”

“At the Grand Hotel.”

“Aren't you a soldier?”

“Yes, as I said I'm a sergeant.”

Huan's sister, Phuoc, sharply spat something out and walked out of the room.

“What is it?” Yong Kyu asked the boy. “Your sister seems to be in a bad mood.”

“The Da Nang students don't care much for foreign soldiers. For you people kill children, that's why.”

“Ah, don't mind that,” Dr. Tran said, “Viet Cong propaganda . . . Well, I'm sure mistakes of that kind happen on the battlefield often enough.”

Yong Kyu made no response to that remark. Instead, he said, “Thank you for the use of your veranda. Please lock the upstairs door after we go out. When we finish our mission we'll leave quietly the way we came.”

“As you like.”

Dr. Tran and his wife exchanged bows with Yong Kyu and then Huan showed him the way upstairs. As he walked up the steps, the boy said, “Thank you for letting Gene stay.”

“Who's Gene?”

“The dog that bit you.”

“Ah, it's all right. It just slipped my mind to bring something tasty he'd like.”

“He's big but he's not even one year old.”

Huan turned on the upstairs light. The upper floor was less spacious than the downstairs. There were two rooms and an old fan hung from the ceiling. They opened the sliding glass door and saw Toi sitting out on the veranda.

“Thanks. You can shut the door now.”

“Come and visit us again later. I'm always home after siesta.”

“I will.”

Huan closed the glass door.

“Unloading has started,” Toi said. “Two pallets of beer were just moved into storage over there.”

“Has the Hong Kong Group showed up?”

“No, not yet. And no supply corps truck either. Look over there. See the full pallets of beer lined up? A different truck came by and carried away two of them.”

Yong Kyu sat down beside Toi. Just then, a forklift made a U-turn in front of the guard station and then rushed over. Two other forklifts were busily going in and out of the wide mouth of the landing ship and another one was moving pallets from the unloading line over to another spot down on the civilian side of the pier.

“You mean that one?”

“Yes, that's the third trip completed.”

“One truck can hold four pallets.”

The forklift came back and carried off another pallet, but it did not come back again to the military sector.