When Saigon Surrendered

by James Aura

  Imagination is a very powerful thing and mine was blowing the doors off. How easy would it be to live with Elaine all the time? It took awhile but I finally drifted off to sleep, into dreams of manicures, milk cows and a big dog named Wonju chasing two cats in slow motion. Like they were floating in space.

  Next morning Elaine woke me up with a kiss and brought me a cup of coffee in bed. That was pretty easy to take. I laid there and watched her get ready to go off to the law office.

  “Last night was nice, Russell. Be nice to have you around here all the time.”

  She flashed me a smile and headed for the door.

  I was petrified. I turned to stone right there in the bed. This thing with Elaine could get serious. Damn. Did I want this? I decided I needed to get back to the farm and think things over.

  First I got dressed and walked a mile to ‘Alabama Feed, Weed and Seed.’ The place looked the same. I went around back and there was George, loading the morning truck.

  He was friendly but I could tell he was a little too busy for the likes of me. I did get him to say that yes, they would take me back if I returned to school in the fall.

  Loading bags of seed and fertilizer on trucks for $2.20 an hour, 15 hours a week: About a hundred bucks a month, after taxes. I was sure I wouldn’t be able to afford Elaine’s place at that rate.

  I looked around for a pay phone, figured I would call collect back to the farm. But there were no pay phones to be had, and the lady in the front office of ‘Alabama Feed, Weed and Seed’ didn’t know me. She brushed me off when I asked to use their phone.

  So I walked all the way back to Toomer’s and tried calling home from the phone booth there. It rang and rang. No answer. Soo Jin would be done with all the morning chores by now. Where were they? Suddenly I felt homesick. Crazy, I know. I had this pretty girl who I liked a lot, wanting me around. But I felt like I could maybe sort things out, bounce ideas off Tommy and come to a decision better if I was back home.

  So I called Elaine at the law office and asked her to meet me for lunch at Toomer’s. She said she could get away for maybe 40 minutes, and would see me in a little while.

  When she came in, she still had a twinkle in her eye and we hugged. We ordered some ice cream and a root beer. I told her I needed to get back home because they weren’t answering the phone at the farm and I was worried. She looked disappointed.

  “What about school this fall, Russell? Are you coming back? Do you want to share the apartment? I think Sherri would move in with her boyfriend if I give her a few weeks notice.”

  I stared at her legs. They looked nice in nylons.

  “And we haven’t talked any more about the Vietnam refugees. Do you have more ideas about that?”

  I realized I’d told her hardly anything about the recent developments. Nothing about finding the letters to Dad, or how some refugees were apparently finding work in nail salons. Of course that information had come from Roxanne. I decided to leave it alone, for now.

  “Elaine, last night was wonderful. You are wonderful. I love it down here in Auburn. But I have a bunch of loose ends, mostly financial. I just can’t tell you whether I am coming back this fall, or not. I lost the scholarship, so I’d have to pay full freight.”

  “Well, your share of the rent would be $60 a month, Russell. And that includes the waterbed, and me. So put that in with all your other calculations.” Her eyes searched mine. I met her gaze and we both knew it was probably not going to work.

  She got up to go back to work. She looked sad. “I’ve got to go. Are you going back today?”

  “Yes, honey, I am going to catch the afternoon bus.”

  I got up and gave her a kiss. We stood and embraced. Then she turned and walked out. I noticed she hadn’t paid for lunch either. I put down three dollars on the table and left.

  I made it to the bus station and nine hours later got off about two blocks from Tommy’s garage. Two days in Auburn. A lot had happened. This town sure looked like Podunk after that.

  The radio was playing in the garage. Linda Ronstadt was singing “You’re No Good.”

  Tommy rolled out from under a big Pontiac LeMans. He was grinning. “Russell, you hear that radio? That is your solution to the mystery of the dog!”

  It turned out Tommy’s sister, Evelena had a boyfriend who was the night time DJ at the local radio station. We didn’t listen to it much with all the big city radio stations that played rock and roll all the time. This station only played our kind of music at night. The rest of the time it was country music, hospital reports, births and deaths, community news type programs.

  But at night, it was all rock and roll.

  “Evelena says the station owner never even listens to it after 9pm. We can put out the word about your missing dog and see what we find out.”

  It was a creative idea, but what if the Feltons were responsible for our missing dog and were listening? Would they come back to the farm and cause trouble? Tommy claimed there was little chance of that. By now he had worked on several Felton vehicles at their compound and it was nothing but country music, all the time.

  I told Tom I’d like to run it past Uncle Wallace, just to be sure there weren’t any more undiscovered secrets waiting to bite us in the ass. He drove me out to the farm in a great big Mercury he had tuned up. We listened to the station on the way.

  ‘Rikki Don’t Lose that Number- Rock Your Baby- Radar Love- Band on the Run.’ Definitely not what country music fans would be listening to. Then the announcer came on.

  “From Kentuckiana to Clarksville - You’re listening to BOSS RADIO – The ROCK! Here’s a brand new one from the Eagles.”

  It certainly sounded different from the daytime programs when they were running shows like ‘Ask Your Neighbor’ and ‘The Stork Report’. The voice was strangely familiar.

  “Tommy, that’s not Mr. Hudson, is it?”

  Mr. Hudson was our Spanish and political science teacher in high school. He was young, probably late 20’s and a pretty cool guy. I always thought he was a lot like me, only older. He seemed destined for greater things than teaching at our high school.

  Tommy grinned and nodded, tapped the steering wheel to ‘One of these nights.’

  “The one and the same. Evelena said he signed on over there a couple months ago. Just for the summer to make some extra money.”

  “Your sister is dating Mr. Hudson?”

  “He recorded a commercial for her cosmetics business and one thing led to another. She thinks he’s hot stuff. Apparently he feels the same about her.”

  Evelena and Mr. Hudson! Podunk wasn’t so boring after all.

  When I got home, it was good news. Uncle Wallace and Soo Jin had been at the doctor’s office when I called. They took his cast off and said his arm should be good as new in a couple more weeks. I was glad to hear that. We needed an extra hand on the farm.

  Soo Jin said milking the cows was no problem. She was getting better at it and stronger every day. The hardest part for her had been hauling the heavy milk cans down to the main road. She’d gotten Uncle Wallace to help her do that, using his one good arm.

  They sat on the sofa together. Uncle Wallace had his arm around Soo Jin. They were in good spirits. It was the first time I had seen Uncle Wallace crack a smile in weeks.

  I told them about the trip to Auburn, not all the details. But when I mentioned that some Vietnamese women were finding jobs at nail salons out in California, Soo Jin sat up and became very interested.

  “Those were good business in Korea, too” she said.

  I figured Soo Jin would happily trade milking two cows for a steady job at a nail salon, but it seemed to me that kind of work could be boring. Farm life did have its daily surprises and some variety.

  Uncle Wallace wanted to know what I had decided about going back to school.

  “I’m going to look at some other schools Uncle Wallace. I’m afraid Auburn is just going to be too expensive.” Even as I said the words I realized I might never se
e Elaine again.

  “Russell, we’re doing just fine here on the farm. I think you should look around at some colleges closer to home. At least you don’t have the draft to worry about any more.”

  It was a relief to hear him say that, but there was a lot of unfinished business here.

  We decided to call it a night. I was going to ask Uncle Wallace to come clean with the real story on Soo Jin, but decided not to get into it. They seemed happy. Why throw cold water on it tonight. I walked out and sat on the front porch. Wind was in the west, it had cooled off some. Clara the cat hopped up on the porch rail, watching for moths.

  I wondered how Elaine would like the farm. She was no stranger to the rural life, but having a Daddy who was a big duck in a small pond in South Georgia was a lot different from being a dirt farmer.

  I couldn’t even imagine Roxanne on a farm. She had surprised me though, showing up in blue jeans. I would have guessed the woman didn’t even own a pair of jeans. If I went back to Auburn there’d be more Spanish tutoring with Roxanne who was extra friendly this trip. High maintenance and high dollar. Forget it. Still, I had her phone numbers in my wallet.

  Out in the woods something let out a howl, like a coyote. That reminded me of the radio station project. Maybe we could turn up the whereabouts of Wonju, if he was dognapped, instead of killed. Then the hoot owls, crickets and tree frogs started up. You didn’t hear night time symphonies like that in Auburn. Then the wind shifted. It brought the dull roar of a giant strip mining shovel, an unwelcome undercurrent to nature’s music.

  Next morning I headed for the barn with the milk buckets bright and early. No signs of life from either Soo Jin or my uncle. Everything looked shipshape. Soo Jin obviously was not afraid of a pitchfork. The cows were anxious to come in and I finished milking them quickly. The cats got their portion and I brought the rest in to the cream separator.

  Soo Jin was at the kitchen counter, sorting eggs from the henhouse. She smiled at me.

  “Everything OK in the barn Russell? Daisy and Cherry happy to see you?”

  “The barn was just fine Soo Jin, maybe even neater than usual. You did great!”

  “Russell, I have a favor to ask. We do not go to church and I feel bad about that. I am living with your uncle but not married to him. We are in sin. There is going to be a tent revival over near Bowling Green and I want us all to go.”

  A tent revival! I hadn’t been to one of those since one of the neighbors took a bunch of us kids to see one when I was about twelve. It was exciting. There was a huge bonfire, flames reaching skyward in the night air. Lots of singing of old time hymns and the preacher was a big hulk of a man, Bible in one hand, handkerchief to wipe the sweat off his face in the other. It was a spectacle, a memorable thing.

  I hadn’t been to church since Grandma’s funeral and I hadn’t been walking the straight and narrow either. If this woman thought she would feel better going to a tent revival, I thought, what’s the harm in that? I wondered out loud what Uncle Wallace would think.

  A voice came from behind me. “Uncle Wallace would think it was just fine, Russell. Soo Jin has saved our bacon and I think we ought to take her if she wants to go. Maybe you could bring Tommy along, too.”

  He was standing in the doorway smiling at Soo Jin. At that moment there was no doubt about the feelings they had for one another.

  I chuckled. “I don’t think we could get Tommy to a tent revival if we hog-tied him and threw him in the trunk.” Uncle Wallace winced at that comment.

  During breakfast I brought up the idea of getting the radio station announcer to put out a ‘missing dog’ announcement and see what kind of calls we would get from around town.

  Uncle Wallace tentatively tried out his healing arm and sliced up his ham and eggs, knife in one hand, fork in the other.

  “You boys come up with some creative ideas, I’ll say that. Russell, I am pretty sure that Wonju is dead. They must have come back to get the dog’s body when we went to the hospital. Maybe they needed it as proof they had done the deed. But if you want to give it a try, go ahead. I’ll just make sure the .410 is close at hand at all times. Maybe I’ll retrieve the .12 gauge from my trailer too, just in case. Then bring ‘em on!”

  Uncle Wallace was back in fine form, I could tell.

  Tommy called Evelena to make the arrangements and we headed for the radio station that night. We pulled up to the place at 9:00 p.m. This was exciting. I had been in the radio station only once before, on a field trip in 8th grade. The station was a sprawling brick building on a hill outside town. Behind it sat the transmitter tower, lit up by floodlights. The tower must have been a thousand feet tall.

  There were only two cars in the parking lot, and one of them was Evelena’s Blazer. The other one, a Volkswagen was apparently Mr. Hudson’s. The front door of the station was open and we walked right in. Apparently this set off some kind of signal, because the control room door opened and Evelena came bounding out.

  “Come on in guys, Eric has everything set up.” She sounded as excited about this as I was. She locked the front door behind us.

  Rock and roll bounced off the walls, from the speakers playing the AM station. As we approached back of the building we could hear stereo easy listening music seeping through a sliding glass door.

  Evelena gestured towards a large room full of machines playing audio tape.

  “That’s the FM station, it is fully automated, but Eric has to change the tapes at the end of his shift. It plays all night. Eric says FM is going to be big one day.”

  The pickup didn’t have FM on the radio. The crisp clear music was an interesting contrast to the bassy boom coming from the rock and roll AM side.

  She put her finger to her lips, an indication to be quiet, and opened the control room door. There sat ‘Eric’ or Mr. Hudson, as we knew him, at the control board, wearing big thick headsets. To his left were tape cartridges and turntables. On his right was a desk with two telephones and notepads. He was tall and his long arms hovered over the control board flipping switches and turning dials. He leaned into the microphone, a big oval thing suspended from the ceiling.

  “From Kentuckiana to Clarksville- You’re listening to BOSS RADIO – The ROCK! This is your musical magic man, ‘Rockin’ John.”

  Then he pushed a button and the Rolling Stones’ ‘Tumbling Dice’ came tumbling out of the control room speakers. We stood for a minute, tapping our feet. I thought to myself that this would be a much better part time job than unloading bags of feed off a two ton truck.

  Then Mr. Hudson pushed another button and the sound went mute. He stood up, took his headsets off and shook our hands.

  “Russell Teague and Tommy Gabbert! How’ve you guys been?”

  He was a whole lot more relaxed than he’d been in Spanish class.

  Evelena jumped in. “We’ve got the suggested announcement right here. You two can sit at the desk and answer the phones, if we get any responses.”

  She handed me a typewritten piece of paper. It looked pretty basic.

  “Looks fine to me, let’s give it a whirl.”

  So Tommy and I sat at the desk, pen in hand, waiting for him to make the missing dog announcement. ‘Tumbling Dice’ came to an end and he played a commercial.

  Then he threw open the microphone.

  “Attention Kentuckiana and all points south. We’ve got a report of a missing dog. This is a great big dog, black and white with some orange on its face. If you have seen this dog, call the station now. You’ll be glad you did. Call 502-555-ROCK That’s 502-555-ROCK.

  He cut the microphone and ‘Fox on the Run’ started up.

  We waited for the calls. There were none. So, half an hour later, he made the announcement again.

  “We’ve got a MISSING DOG alert, everybody. This dog is a big one, black and white with some orange spots on his face. Again, the dog is black and white with orange on his face. If you have seen this very important missing dog call us now. You’ll get a 50-dollar reward
if your call returns the dog to its owners. Call 502-555-ROCK That’s 502-555-ROCK and collect your 50-dollar reward.”

  Ray Stevens’ ‘The Streak’ came blaring out of the control room speaker.

  “Mr. Hudson, I didn’t see anything about a 50-dollar reward. That’s a lot!”

  He grinned. “Well, I thought we needed to sweeten the pot a little. The thing is, no one ever need know who won the 50-dollars.”

  That seemed a little crooked to me, but I knew nothing about the radio business. We had two calls. One from a kid, who sounded like he just wanted to talk to Mr. Hudson, said he knew where the dog was but he’d have to tell ‘Rockin’ John’ personally. I handed the phone to Mr. Hudson, who hung up quickly.

  Tommy took the second call, from a guy who thought he’d seen a dog like that a few weeks ago, out along Paradise Road, which was near our farm. Tommy wrote down the guy’s phone number and thanked him.