He put up his hand, and the driver stopped.
I didn’t get out, and I sat there waiting for Nguyen Qui Mang, Colonel, Section A of the Ministry of Public Security. He wore his sidearm, which didn’t bother me; it was mine if I wanted it. But he also carried his attaché case, which always makes me more nervous than a gun.
Behind the approaching Colonel Mang was my Air France 747 with the stairs still in place, and I could see that the last passengers were boarding. A gate agent stood nearby looking at his watch.
Colonel Mang stopped beside the cart and asked me, “Where are you going, Mr. Brenner?”
“I’m going home, Colonel. You should do the same.”
“Yes? And how was your diplomatic reception? Did you meet your Vice President?”
“I did.”
“And was he delighted to make your acquaintance?”
“He was. We swapped war stories.”
I could see that the ground crew was about to roll away the stairs. I said, “I’d love to chat awhile, but I’m going to miss my flight. So if you’ll excuse me.”
“I have instructed them to wait for you.”
“It doesn’t look that way.”
“Where is Miss Weber?”
“She’s staying awhile. She likes it here.”
“Yes? And you? Do you like it here?”
“I have mixed emotions.”
“Ah. And was your parting with Miss Weber a sad one?”
“It was not as happy as our parting is going to be. And by the way, the lady would like her film back.”
“Perhaps. I first need to see the photographs you took.”
“Speaking of which, if you send those photographs of Pyramide Island to one more person, you will be sorry you did.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“I’m telling you.”
“Did Mr. Stanley not enjoy the photographs?”
I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of a response, and I said, “Okay, thanks for seeing me off. Gotta go.”
“In a moment. So, do you think this man Blake will be your new president?”
I answered his question with a question. “What do you think?”
“I had an interesting conversation with Tran Van Vinh last night. I must think about this.”
“You do that.” I could see the ground crew looking my way.
Mang said to me, “You have a diplomatic pass, and you have not even mentioned it.”
“I don’t need anything but a ticket to get on that plane.”
“Perhaps you enjoy my company.”
“No, I don’t. But I find you interesting.”
We looked at each other, and for the first time since I’d had the misfortune of making his acquaintance, I saw no malice in his eyes. He said, “I have something for you.” He reached into his attaché case and handed me the snow globe. I took it and looked at the snow falling on the Wall.
He said, “Your other personal effects will be returned through your embassy. I do not take what is not mine.”
I didn’t reply.
He said to me, “You and I, Mr. Brenner, will never be friends, but I will tell you that I respect your courage. So, for that reason only, I wish you a safe trip home.”
I handed the globe back to him and said, “Something to remember me by.”
“That is very thoughtful. And will I see you again?”
“You should hope not.”
“And you as well.”
“Go easy on this country, Colonel. The people have suffered enough.”
He didn’t reply and said something to the driver, who accelerated off toward the aircraft.
As we reached the stairs, I glanced back over my shoulder, but Colonel Mang was gone.
I looked off into the distance at the white door of the diplomatic lounge and saw Susan in the jade green dress watching me. She waved, and I waved in return.
Vietnam, third tour, had ended, and once again, I was going home sitting up.
I climbed the stairs to the aircraft and at the top, a flight attendant took my ticket, looked at it, and said in a nice French accent, “Ah, Mr. Brenner, we have been waiting for you.”
“I’m here.” I turned around, and as I’d done so many years ago, I surveyed the expanse of rice paddies and villages that now, as then, appeared misty through my eyes.
I looked again at the door where I’d last seen Susan, and she was still standing there.
We waved again. I took a final look at her, turned, and boarded the aircraft.
The journey home is never a direct route; it is, in fact, always circuitous, and somewhere along the way, we discover that the journey is more significant than the destination, and that the people we meet along the way will be the traveling companions of our memories forever.
Acknowledgments
And Other Matters
When I returned to Vietnam in January 1997, I went with two good friends: One was Dan Barbiero, a childhood friend, and former marine lieutenant with the Third Marine Division. Dan served in Vietnam at almost the same time and place I did—Quang Tri Province, November 1967 to December 1968. We tried to get together when we were there, but the war put time-consuming demands on our calendars.
The other friend who accompanied me in 1997 was Cal Kleinman. Cal served as a medic with the Eleventh Armored Cavalry, also in that memorable year of 1968. Cal is a fellow Long Islander, and we grew up in adjoining towns with rival high school football teams, but we’re both on the same team now.
Cal and Dan knew I was contemplating a novel set in contemporary Vietnam, and they lent extra eyes and ears to my research, and also took good notes and interesting photographs. More important, we were able to discuss and digest what we’d seen and felt each night over a few drinks after sometimes emotionally draining days in places we thought we’d never see again. Thanks, guys, and welcome home.
Special thanks go to a fellow Long Islander, Al DeMatteis, Director of Operations, DeMatteis Vietnam, and President of DeMatteis International Group. Al has lived and worked in Vietnam for many years, and was kind enough to show me the real Hanoi, for which I am indebted to him. He’s a great host, and a wonderful unofficial ambassador of goodwill to Vietnam. It’s American men and women like Al DeMatteis, living and working in Vietnam, who will ultimately bring the two countries together in a way that the politicians can only begin to do.
Also in Hanoi, Dan, Cal, and I were fortunate to be introduced to an American resident of that city, Mattie Genovese, and I thank her for all her insights into the life of an American businesswoman in Vietnam. My fictional character of Susan Weber would not have been possible without the real Mattie Genovese.
I’d like to thank Lieutenant John Kennedy, Deputy Police Commissioner of Nassau County, for his close readings and suggestions, especially regarding the army Criminal Investigation Division. John has worked with CID men and women and has shared with me some astute observations and facts. John was a big help on Plum Island and The Lion’s Game and has an astounding amount of knowledge about criminal justice.
This is a good time and place to thank an old friend, Patricia Burke, who has a unique job. Patricia is Vice President of Literary Affairs for Paramount Pictures and was instrumental in bringing my novel The General’s Daughter to the attention of Paramount, which led to the motion picture of the same name. Patricia is one of the best read people in the universe, so when I was contemplating this sequel to The General’s Daughter, I took the unusual step of pulling her into the editorial process. I never knew if she was flattered or annoyed, but she produced a cogent and coherent memo that served as a good guide for this story. Patricia also recommended Up Country to Paramount, which is now in development as a motion picture.
An author should always thank his or her editor, and I’ve been blessed by many editors. First, my editor and publisher, Jamie Raab of Warner Books, and also my editor, friend, and Chairman of AOL Time Warner Book Group, Larry Kirshbaum, and, of course, my longtime editor
and wife, Ginny DeMille, who’s still trying to teach me the parts of speech. And last but not least, my assistants, Dianne Francis and Patricia Chichester, who are the first to read, type, correct, and comment on the manuscript. These two ladies are my frontline editors, and if it’s true that no gentleman is a hero to his valet, then certainly no writer is a genius to his typists.
Rather than thank my agent, Nick Ellison, again, I’ll thank his excellent staff. First, his assistant, Megan Rickman, a California girl with a New York attitude. Also, Alicka Pistek, who is Director of Foreign Rights, a talented, multilingual lady who has done a wonderful job of introducing my novels to the rest of the world.
I’d like to thank, once again, Martin Bowe and Laura Flanagan of the Garden City Public Library, and Dan Starer of Research for Writers, New York City. Research becomes the reality around which all good fiction is built.
Last, but really first, I want to thank the early readers of the manuscript. Someone once said that an author who shows early drafts of his manuscript is like someone passing around samples of his sputum. True enough, but someone’s got to look at the stuff that’s coughed up first. Aside from my wife and my two assistants, I’ve shown my early drafts to Tom Block, childhood friend, novelist, retired US Airways pilot, and co-author with me of Mayday, and his wife, Sharon Block, retired US Airways flight attendant and excellent reader.
Finally, I gave the manuscript to Rolf Zettersten, Vice President, Warner Books, who has a reputation of being tough, honest, and thorough—an author’s dream, or nightmare. I thank Rolf for his very close reading and excellent suggestions.
The germ of the idea for this novel came from my association with Vietnam Veterans of America. VVA has a program called the Veterans Initiative, whose purpose it is to assist the Vietnamese government in locating their missing soldiers. VVA was most helpful in bringing this program to my attention, and I especially want to thank Marc Leepson, Arts Editor and columnist for The VVA Veteran, for providing me specifics on this program.
Regarding the Veterans Initiative program, if anyone reading this has any sort of hard information regarding the fate of a former enemy soldier in Vietnam—letters, identification cards, maps, or similar documents with a name on it—please send it to Vietnam Veterans of America, Inc., Suite 400, 8605 Cameron Street, Silver Spring, MD 20910. Include a brief description of when, where, and how the item was found, and the fate of the individual, i.e., POW, MIA, KIA. VVA will forward this information to Hanoi to assist them in their efforts to locate their 300,000 missing ser-vicemen and women; this will, in turn, encourage Vietnam to continue assisting us in locating the remains of our 2,000 missing in action.
I did, in fact, find a letter on the body of a North Vietnamese soldier in the A Shau Valley in May 1968, and turned it over to VVA some years ago for forwarding to Hanoi. Hopefully, a family in Vietnam has learned the fate of a missing son, husband, or brother.
Several people have made generous contributions to charities in return for having their names used as characters in this novel. They are: Rita Chang (contributor to the Boys and Girls Club of East Norwich”Oyster Bay), John Eagan Jr. (Great South Bay YMCA), Earl E. Ellis (Tilles Center for the Performing Arts), Marc Goodman (Diabetes Research Institute Foundation), Lisa Klose (C. W. Post/Long Island University), Victor Ort (Boys and Girls Club of East Norwich”Oyster Bay), and Janice Stanton (Muscular Dystrophy Association). I hope these men and women enjoy their fictitious alter egos and that they continue their good work for worthy causes.
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