The Eaves of Heaven

by Andrew X. Pham

  “Good idea, sir. Anything else?”

  “No, that’s all.”

  “Roger that, sir.”

  “Over and out.”

  Putting down the radio, I chuckled. Why should I bother worrying about what that arrogant fool will do to me? Before Trieu could take his revenge on me, I would have to survive tonight first.

  The hamlet had become eerily silent and deserted, the streets empty, ghostlike with bluish-gray shadows, the corners and crannies filled with night. Cooking fires had been extinguished. Even the dogs had gone into hiding. Houses darkened, their doors locked, windows shuttered. The entire populace cringed, coiling tightly into itself. People knew they couldn’t leave the hamlet. The VC would not bother distinguishing them from RD cadres trying to escape. They did what trapped peasants had done through the ages: They barricaded themselves inside their homes and waited out the night, whatever the outcome.

  A déjà vu. I had been here, in a place like this. I remembered those long nights hiding in bushes, hay bales, field shacks, waiting for dawn as the legionnaires swept through the village and scoured our ancestral home like malevolent demons. That was fifteen years ago. It made me immensely sad.

  THE NORTH

  JULY 1945

  18. THE LAST MAGISTRATE

  The raven came to see him for the third and final time, the day before his death. It alighted in the brazen afternoon, dropping like a blot of ink onto the broiling courtyard. It peered into the audience hall and, spreading dark wings, cawed at him. He accepted the harbinger with equanimity. Six years he had been waiting.

  Pham Van Thuan was the last magistrate of his line to preside in Tong Xuyen Domain. Forty-five years old, he had few regrets. He had fathered four sons and four daughters among his three wives. His accomplishments and social status were adequate for a man who knew what he wanted from life. Two things mattered to him: the prosperity of his domain and the impeccable quality of his service as magistrate. He took pride in executing his office faithfully and wisely. Of the hundreds of cases he had judged during his two-decade tenure, only a handful of his rulings had been overturned by the district court. This was a well-known fact, as his name had been mentioned in the upper halls for promotions. If he so wished, he could have risen all the way to the Senate, but like his father and his grandfather, he was a simple man who cherished the country life. Hunting birds in his orchards, strolling in his gardens, and raising pigeons were his passions. For him, the greatest pleasure was seeing Heaven reward the peasants for their hard labor with righteous rain for the planting season and sultry sun for the harvesting days.

  When he told his wife about the raven, she begged him not to go to the council meeting the next day in the district town. The Three Temple Lunar Calendar listed the day’s base-nature as Fire. His was Metal. Incompatible, as one melted the other. It would be a bad day for travel. Terrified, she rushed to the Ancestral Temple and lit three incense sticks for the Lady Buddha. She knelt at the altar and prayed as she had never prayed before, making desperate pledges for her husband’s safety.

  She knew it was a time of great political upheaval. World War II was ending, and the various factions were maneuvering against one another. Vietnamese were killing Vietnamese to gain advantage. Days before, their nephew Quyen, an active Nationalist, had been kidnapped and murdered by the Viet Minh. Quyen was among the first victims in the Viet Minh’s drive to eliminate key members of the wealthy class that formed the core of the Nationalists.

  That evening, a pensive spell descended on the magistrate, and he asked for the traditional mat nha service. His wife protested that the Lunar New Year was months away; there were no blossoming narcissus available for the centerpiece. He smiled and said any bloom from his garden would do. So she cut roses from his prized bushes and put them in a bowl of water. She placed the arrangement on a platter full of white riverbed pebbles coated with mat nha —a honey-like extract made from the tiny sprouts of sweet rice grains. She served it to him with a pot of black tea. They sat in the gazebo, looking out on the carp pond. He held a pebble in his mouth, the essence of rice slowly dissolving on his tongue. A mild sweetness, the flavor of freshly steamed jasmine rice. Above the darkening bamboo hedge, the sky turned coral pink. Shoals of finches danced, racing over the fields. He was deeply in love with the land.

  She would later recall that he was not himself when he woke the next morning. He seemed distracted. Moreover, he was in a good mood, which in itself was very unusual. Even the servants who helped him dress noted that he seemed happy, almost carefree. He put on his trousers and dark blue silk robe without much fuss about the quality of the ironing or the proper starchiness in the fabric. He pinned the magistrate ivory emblem on his chest and donned the ceremonial headdress of coiled cloth. A servant polished his leather boots while he talked to his wife about the dinner he wanted that night.

  He ate his usual breakfast of glutinous rice patties with slices of meat cake and hot tea on the veranda, where he could watch his pigeons stirring in their roosts. His wife sat and pleaded with him to take the car, but he refused. Various political factions were inciting riots and there were demonstrations daily at the district town. Driving his luxurious automobile—there were only two in the entire province—through crowds of famine-stricken peasants would bring only trouble. He knew people instinctively feared and respected an official mounted on a horse.

  He rode out the gates with Canh and Khi, his two most trusted guards, jogging at his side. He was in high spirit, full of plans for improving the security of the district and his own domain. He told his men that he would buy horses for them so they could travel faster. It would help them catch highway bandits. He also told them that he would seek permission from the district chief to arm his bodyguards with guns. Heaven knew all the political factions had access to plenty of firearms.

  They traveled comfortably, the men at a jog to match the horse’s slow canter. It was an easy pace for the dawn hours, the air still cool and pleasant, the sky whitish and overcast. Tendrils of mist hugged the newly sown paddies.

  They rounded a bend in the road where a tall ancient tree brooded by the river. There was a moment of stillness. A gunshot rang out, startling birds from the bushes.

  The bullet slammed into his chest and pitched him backward off his horse. Canh and Khi closed around the magistrate, sheltering him with their bodies, but no more shots came. Blood gushed from his mouth. He shook briefly, eyes fixated at the sky. There was a hole in his chest the size of a sour berry. His ivory badge gleamed red with blood.

  His life—the important parts—was blessed with peace and prosperity. He would be survived by many loved ones. He had sired eight children: three with his first wife, one with his second wife, and four with his third wife. He had fulfilled his filial obligations, cherished his wives, and left his children a greater estate than the one he had inherited. He had lived his own life and had been privileged to judge the deeds of others. He had presided over more than his share of hearings on robberies, rapes, domestic violence, land disputes, drunken brawls, smugglings, and sundries of minor crimes. It was enough humanity to last a lifetime twice as long as what he had been given. He had been fortunate to guide his domain through the Great Famine and to savor the imminent fall of the Japanese, who had brought so much death and suffering. It was as much as a man of his era could hope for. And so ended the feudal age for the line of Pham of Tong Xuyen.

  1945–1946

  19. THE DEMOCRATIC REPUBLIC OF VIETNAM

  In the closing months of World War II, Vietnam saw its first significant opportunity for independence in eight decades. The French, beleaguered in Europe, had not returned, and the ruling Japanese faced defeat on several fronts. In March of 1945, the Japanese foresaw the end of their empire and abruptly disarmed the entire French governing force in Vietnam. They dismantled the Vichy French colonial administration and imprisoned French troops and civilians, and then coerced Emperor Bao Dai to declare Vietnam’s independence from France and i
ts membership in Japan’s “Greater East Asia Co-prosperity Sphere.”

  The country quickly plunged into a period of lawlessness and turmoil. The Vietnamese Nationalists, the Communists, and several other religious and political factions vied for power. Throughout the country, these parties engaged in attacks, ambushes, and assassinations against one another. Widespread unrest, riots, demonstrations, and sabotage disrupted the country. Governmental services fell into disarray. The Japanese army continued to commandeer transportation channels for military purposes, depriving the famine-stricken North of the rice surplus in the South. More than a million starved to death; millions more suffered from hunger and disease.

  On August 6, 1945, the U.S. annihilated Hiroshima with an atomic bomb. Nagasaki suffered the same fate on August 9. On August 14, Japan surrendered. Ho Chi Minh immediately gathered more than sixty delegates from numerous ethnic minorities and political groups to form the People’s National Congress. Despite earlier conflicts, on August 16, they formed the National Liberation Committee of Viet Nam and selected Ho as the president. This was the provisional government of the Democratic Republic of Viet Nam. Ho declared a general insurrection to establish control before the French returned from Europe.

  Mobs swelled the streets of Hanoi as demonstrations shook the city for three days. On August 19, the Viet Minh took over Hanoi without a fight. The historic string of events came to be known as the August Revolution.

  On September 2, half a million people, impassioned with patriotism, swarmed into Hanoi’s Ba Dinh Square to witness the provisional government of the Democratic Republic of Viet Nam formally assume office. General Vo Nguyen Giap thanked the U.S. for its help and acknowledged America as a friend of Vietnam. Flanked by American military officers from the Office of Strategic Services, Ho Chi Minh read the Vietnamese Declaration of Independence: “All men are created equal. They are endowed by their Creator with certain inalienable rights; among these are Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness…”

  IN accordance with the Allied agreements in Potsdam, the Chinese army moved into Vietnam to disarm the Japanese in the North and to serve as a temporary occupying force. General Luu Han led a rabble of 200,000 Chinese troops, many barefoot, with wives and children in tow. Underpaid, undernourished, and undisciplined, they came without provisions and plundered villages in their path, dragging a caravan of stolen goods, produce, and livestock all the way into Hanoi. Once inside the city, they seized the luxuries that once belonged to the Japanese and the French. Soldiers ransacked warehouses, mansions, and public buildings, carrying off furniture, chandeliers, and clothes, and robbed merchants at the open markets in broad daylight. The officers behaved no better, forcing themselves into local business deals, confiscating property, and legalizing their theft by paying with worthless Chinese currency. The Chinese occupation lasted six months.

  The responsibility for disarming the Japanese in the South belonged to the British, who, like the French, also had vested interests in colonialism. After news of Ho Chi Minh’s declaration of independence reached Saigon, British General Gracey quickly released and armed French troops who had been, until then, confined to their barracks by the Japanese for six months. A day later, French soldiers seized control of Saigon City Hall. French soldiers and French civilians went on a rampage, breaking into shops and homes, indiscriminately beating Vietnamese men, women, and children. The last week in September of 1945, Saigon was wrought with hysteria and mayhem between the French and the Vietnamese. Hundreds were killed. In mid-October, French reinforcements arrived, and General LeClerc reasserted colonial rule by force. Saigon was reestablished as a French city, but the vast Mekong Delta became a battlefield.

  While the U.S. was hesitant to get involved in Indochina and did not favor colonialism, the Americans yielded to pressure from the British and the French and stepped back to allow their Allies to maneuver in Vietnam. The Americans did not protest when the British gave the French their American equipment and transported French troops back to Vietnam. This action pushed the founders of the Democratic Republic of Vietnam further toward the Soviet Bloc. Many Vietnamese saw this American complacency as the seed for the thirty years of war.

  From late 1945 to mid- 1946, the French, Ho Chi Minh, various Vietnamese Nationalist factions, religious groups, and the Chinese occupational forces continued to maneuver against one another through both political and military means. In an attempt to make his provisional power permanent, Ho Chi Minh hastily held general elections on January 6, 1946, against vehement protests from the Nationalists. Although a National Assembly was formed, the infighting continued unabated. While the Vietnamese bickered bitterly among themselves, the Chinese, who until then claimed to be an ally of Vietnam, switched loyalty and struck a profitable bargain with the French. In March 1946, the Chinese traded the control of the North to the French for huge economic and political concessions. Well-armed French troops shipped in from Saigon replaced the Chinese occupation force. In the same month, the British left the South to the French. Once again, Vietnam fell neatly into the hands of the French.

  After its defeats in World War II, France was eager to reassert colonial control and regain some of its former prestige. Having briefly tasted freedom, the Vietnamese refused to relinquish their Democratic Republic without a struggle, and yet they were unable to unify under a single banner. The French formed an alliance with the Viet Minh to eradicate the other factions. In June 1946, with French assistance, General Giap began a bloody campaign to crush all opposition groups, one by one. In July, Giap’s troops attacked the Nationalists’ headquarters in Hanoi while the French blocked the surrounding streets to prevent Nationalists’ escape or reinforcement. The Viet Minh killed and arrested more than a hundred Nationalists. In a single stroke, the Viet Minh eliminated nearly every key Nationalist leader and pushed the remnants of the Nationalist forces into the mountain forests.

  At the time, many Vietnamese, Nationalists included, did not know this was the work of Ho Chi Minh’s organization and continued to support him. Those who did regarded the collaboration of the French and Viet Minh as an unholy alliance. Later, some would portray the event as a hunt with the masters encircling their prey and then unleashing the hounds to do the dirty work. Others would cite it as the most successful example of the French colonial divide-and-conquer tactic. For the Nationalist sympathizers, it was an unforgivable betrayal between brothers.

  With the other opposition groups decimated, the alliance of convenience ended. For months, the two forces controlled the country in an uneasy coexistence. Tension escalated through the fall of 1946. A misunderstanding in Hai Phong resulted in the Viet Minh militiamen slaughtering twenty-three French soldiers. North of Hanoi, six French troops were killed days later. On November 23,1946, French commanders decided to teach the natives a lesson and butchered more than six thousand Vietnamese men, women, and children in a single day. The French bathed the streets of Hai Phong in Vietnamese blood.

  On the night of December 19, the Viet Minh militia retaliated by destroying the power station in Hanoi and attacking French installations. Fighting quickly spread throughout the country. The war began, and all the Vietnamese factions set aside their political differences to join the Resistance headed by Ho Chi Minh’s government.

  THE SOUTH

  DECEMBER 26, 1963

  20. THE TRAP

  By 9:30 P.M., Viet, Nhan, and I had finished touring the hamlet’s defenses. We returned to the community center, excited by the preparation for battle. I was feeling rather positive. My show of confidence for the men lifted my own spirit as well, but as I stepped inside the common house, moans of the injured sobered me instantly.

  Nurse Nhi reported that the two seriously wounded men had taken turns for the worse. Nurse Nhung and Thoi had cooked and sent food to the whole team guarding the perimeter. Our meal was set in the classroom.

  Viet, Nhan, and I stood around the teacher’s desk with the three women. They had cooked a meal of brown rice, green
onion omelets, and watery tomato soup flavored with dried shrimp. It was all that was available in the hamlet. None of us had eaten since lunch, and we dug into the food without decorum. I was so hungry I thought it was the best dinner I’d ever had in all the times I spent with my RD teams. I doubted what people said about fear spoiling one’s appetite. I had a great meal, even though I was definitely afraid.

  After dinner, Viet, Nhan, and I went out to sit on the porch steps with our tea. I wondered aloud why the VC hadn’t attacked yet.

  “Maybe they left already,” Nhan ventured as he rolled a cigarette.

  Viet grinned and shook his head. “They’re out there. This is their Regional Force; they don’t hit and run like the local guerrillas.”

  “Yes, but their Regionals are professionals. Why would they give us time to get dug in and rested?” Nhan said.

  Viet deadpanned, “I guess they have to eat too.”

  Nhan and I chuckled at the image of our attackers having dinner around a campfire. Somehow it struck me as tragic.

  A chilly breeze made the stars seem icy. The moonlight gave shadow to everything but revealed nothing. It was strange not to hear a single dog bark all evening. The silence was unnerving, infectious.

  I thought of my wife at home alone with our child. Whatever surprises she’d prepared were long cold now. I marveled at this young woman who hadn’t asked me for a single thing in the years we’d been together. She saved everything, spent only for our bare necessities, and wanted nothing for herself. She never complained or showed her displeasure with our poverty in any of the many ways a woman could. I wished I could have worked harder for her somehow. I felt sorry I did not earn more money to make her life easier.

  Lieutenant Lan came over the radio and reported the good news that we would have artillery support. Viet and Nhan dashed off to update the men while I worked out the details with Lan. Since our outdated radio didn’t have the army’s frequency, all requests and instructions had to be relayed through Lan at headquarters, who would radio the coordinates to the artillery batteries out near the runway.