The Shadow of Arms

by Hwang Sok-Yong

  “You must be hungry, eh? Lei will be home any minute. You can eat with her.”

  “Sister, by any chance do you know where Big Brother lives?”

  “Why should I trouble myself about such a thing? Lei may know, though. Once when Mother fainted she went there with Lieutenant Kiem to show the way.”

  “Mother fainted?”

  “Yes, on the day Big Brother packed up and moved out. You know, like she did with Father in the old days.”

  The two of them went back out to the living room. Seeing the flowers in the front yard getting limp from the blazing sun, Mi headed outside with a sprinkling can to water the plants. Minh was stalking and swatting flies that had slipped inside the house.

  “Are you really back home for good?”

  “I said I am . . .”

  “I thought you’d never return, like my husband.”

  “You’re not pleased to see me back, are you?”

  “No, it’s not that. It’s just you seem changed somehow.”

  “I’m still the same old me.”

  Mi gave Minh a searching look and whispered, “I’m proud of my husband. When the children grow up I’ll tell them about their father. He was on the district committee in Quang Nai Province. He came back from the jungle from time to time. That’s how she was born,” Mi said, pointing over at the three-year-old girl sleeping in a hammock. “Most Vietnamese women think the way I do—they’d rather see their husbands off in the jungle instead of staying home living in disgrace. I hate Quyen.”

  Minh understood how his older sister felt, but he went on killing flies without revealing his own feelings.

  “Quyen has contempt for me because my husband was on the other side.”

  “That’s not true, Mi.”

  “Then what is it? Mother’s asking for him every day and he goes and shacks up with a Korean bar girl. He thinks he owes us nothing because he throws us thirty thousand piasters a month. I thought you’d never come back.”

  Minh felt an urge welling up inside to grab his sister and shake her, to scream that he was working in a cell of the Liberation Front. But he had to stifle such arrogance. Had he not been taught that at times one has to wear a disguise that brings snickers and scorn from one’s own countrymen? Minh tossed the fly swatter aside.

  “Sister, I barely made it back alive. I suppose you wouldn’t be satisfied unless one of those yellow slips arrived notifying the family I’d been killed in action out in the jungle?”

  “No, dear. I’m glad you’re back. You shouldn’t die. I just can’t stomach Quyen, that’s all.”

  Mi rushed over to Minh with tears streaming down her face and grabbed his hands. She was feeling dejected at the fate that left her no choice but to live off her family. From outside could be heard the bell of a bicycle and the rattle of its chain.

  “Lei’s back.”

  Mi wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and hurried off to the kitchen. Lei pushed her bicycle into the yard, then took off her big hat and fanned her face with it. The heat had cooked a tinge of red onto her face.

  “I called Big Brother earlier, did he show up?”

  “Yes, thanks.”

  “So, what did he say?”

  “He said he’d take care of things.”

  “Ah, I’m starving. You haven’t eaten yet, have you?”

  “No, I was waiting for you.”

  Mi hurried out. “Lei’s home. Hungry? I’ll make some fried rice, it’ll only take a minute.”

  “No need to hurry, Sister. No more class after siesta today. It’s a Red Cross service day.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Well, the senior girls go to the hospitals on Friday afternoons to look after the patients, refugees mostly.”

  “Why didn’t you go, then?”

  “I decided to skip.”

  Lei went around to the backyard to take a bath and soon the sound of the pump was heard. After a while she reappeared in shorts and a T-shirt, looking cooler with her hair wet. Mi brought out lunch. The three of them sat down together in the living room and ate fried rice.

  “A friend of mine told me that front line units penetrated deep into Dong Dao yesterday. They planted their flag, too. Six were killed and the bodies were displayed along the road. Everybody is talking about it.”

  “Lei, just eat your rice,” Mi warned.

  Lei dropped her spoon and haltingly said, “Brother, well, eh, . . . I made one mistake . . .”

  Minh and Mi both stopped eating and looked at Lei.

  “I’ll tell you if you promise to forgive me.”

  Minh nodded. Lei went on, her eyes downcast.

  “On the way from school I bumped into Shoan. She said she was going to Dong Dao to check . . . she was in tears because she thought you might be among the dead fighters laid out there.”

  “So you told her I came back home.”

  “Yes, I told her you came home last night. She was really planning to go to Dong Dao, you know. I had no choice. So, she might come by here.”

  “You weren’t thinking,” Mi said reproachfully. “You were told not to tell anyone until Minh gets everything settled. What if word gets out? Then not even Quyen can do much and Minh would be bound to be sent to the prison camp.”

  Sometimes when deserters from the NLF came home they were denounced by neighborhood informants and sent straight to prison camps. In such cases they were treated differently from defectors. There was a six-month investigation period. If you came up with enough money you could be released and find a way to enlist in the ARVN, otherwise you might disappear without a trace. The same was true of civilians caught in the combat zones, and there was no way out at all for those confirmed to be NLF volunteers. But Minh was not too concerned about it. It was just too painful and too intimidating for him to have to put on an act to persuade Shoan of the change in his situation. He finished his meal in a rush and gulped down the cold green tea. Then he asked Lei, “You know where the house in Son Tinh is, don’t you? Where Big Brother lives with that woman?”

  “Why . . . you said he was already here.”

  “I have to see that Dai Han woman.”

  “No, Mi and I don’t like to be harassed by Big Brother.”

  “He said it was all right with him. Where in Son Tinh is it? Here, draw a map.”

  “Shoan said she’d be coming by.”

  “I have no time to see her. That sour face . . . really, I don’t care to see it.”

  Lei peered over at Mi. “Sister . . .”

  “Go ahead, show him how to get there,” Mi spat out, lifting her chin as if uninterested. As she gathered up the dishes she added, “Minh is getting to be just like Quyen.”

  Lei picked up a pencil and began sketching a map. “Well, at this tennis court turn right and then it’s the fourth house as you go up the hill. The steps are steep. It’s cement, painted white. Got it?”

  “Yeah, thanks.”

  Minh took the map and got to his feet.

  “Why do you want to see her?” Lei asked.

  “To get a job, all right? She should be able to persuade Big Brother, that’s why.”

  “To get a job?”

  “Yes, a job. I’ve got to make money. I mean to get out of this country. I’m planning to go abroad and become a surgeon.”

  The two sisters exchanged looks.

  “Brother . . . do you really mean it?”

  “I’m borrowing your bike for a little while.”

  Minh hurried off. Lei looked at Mi with a vacant face. “Brother Minh is like a different person.”

  “Yes, and he’s not on our side anymore.”

  “Well, I think I can understand. I’ve seen many boys go through a change just like this.”

  “He’s much meaner than before he went off to the jungle. Minh in the
end will turn out even viler than Quyen, that’s what saddens me the most. The kind of man a Vietnamese woman can love has either lost his life or is off somewhere far away.”

  Lei shook her head. “Little Brother isn’t like that. There must be some reason.”

  “You’ve seen him for yourself. I heard him arguing with Quyen, I heard every word he said. He was begging Quyen, saying he didn’t want to die. In spite of myself I couldn’t help crying . . . and I never felt so lonely.”

  “Sister . . . it’s all right to think your husband is the finest man alive. I still like Minh the most of any man in the world. I’m going to comfort him.”

  Nevertheless, Lei, too, could not help but feel an emptiness in the heart that had overflowed with pride in the midst of hushed whisperings back on the night of Minh’s departure. From then on, when the nights were punctuated by gunfire and flames, Lei would feel humiliated just as Minh himself could only feel self-reproach. Her own brother had turned out to be a deserter from the Liberation Front.

  As he rode slowly up toward Doc Lap Boulevard, Pham Minh caught sight of Shoan coming from the far side of the street. She wore a white ahozai with her long hair pulled neatly back and was walking with her head down as if peering at her own sandals as they popped out in turn from under her long skirt. Minh almost called out to her, but then quickly turned the handlebar, slipped into an alley, and pedaled off at top speed. Then he slowed down and looked back, but Shoan already had crossed the intersection. He pushed the pedals at a leisurely pace and headed down toward the shore. Barely three days had passed, but he found the silence and the city routine insufferable and felt a terrible temptation to run from all responsibility.

  Back in psychological warfare training he remembered reading a poem that a defector to the NLF had passed around. Back then it had seemed silly enough to toss in the trash, but now it kept coming back into his mind:

  Mother, since leaving your side I’ve been marching with my comrades. I trudged over the mountains and crossed through Laos to come to the heart of Vietnam. My courage didn’t fail as I marched through the rain. Now, I am here in a strange place, yet my own country just the same. I’m looking around me and thinking: What is it that I must liberate? The marketplace is crowded and noisy, the rice shoots in the field are billowing before the breeze, there is the sound of a temple gong in the distance, children are playing in the schoolyard and the singing of a choir can be heard. Butterflies are busy flying over the flowers in the bok choy field, and I don’t know what it is I’m supposed to liberate.

  It’s true: anybody who’s worn out or who gives up self-discipline for a while is bound to become conservative. City guerrillas especially, he had been taught, must battle against the temptations of city life. Fight against time, fight against self, and most of all, fight against the loneliness of being separated from the organization. Minh passed trees lining the road and turned right past the tennis courts. The wind off the ocean blew his shirt and his hair. He took out the map and looked it over, then stopped by the bottom of the stairs below the fourth house.

  The scent of the flowers was overwhelming—the strong fragrance of iris almost made him dizzy. He slowly climbed up the steps. Beside the white wooden gate there was a doorbell. He looked through the wooden lattice into the front yard of the house. This place was not Vietnam. From the dewy freshness of the palm leaves it seemed the garden had just been watered. He rang the doorbell. No answer. He tried again several times but there was still no response. As he turned to head back down the steps, from inside he could hear the sound of a glass door sliding open. Minh turned back once more and stood waiting at the gate. The hall door opened and a woman in a yellow beach robe craned her neck out and asked in English, “Who is it?”

  “Is this the residence of Major Pham Quyen?”

  “Yes, but he’s now at the provincial government office. You should contact him there.”

  “I’ve come to see you.”

  “Me? Who are you?”

  “I’m Pham Minh, the major’s younger brother.”

  “Ah, I think I’ve heard about you.”

  The woman came outside in slippers, treading on the stepping stones, and opened the side door. She smelled of shampoo. So she was taking a bath, Minh thought as he looked straight into her eyes. More beautiful than he had expected. Her skin was lighter than that of a Vietnamese woman and her full breasts billowed inside the beach robe. The sight was blinding. Quyen had already accomplished his first goal—he had created a neutral country right here, surrounded by the war-torn city of Da Nang.

  “Come in, come in, please.”

  She gestured with her chin for him to follow her inside. They sat down facing each other, he on the couch and she on a chair.

  “Have you had lunch?”

  “Yes, at home.”

  “Something to drink? Coffee?”

  “Thank you.”

  “Hot or iced?”

  “Either is fine.”

  Mimi looked back at him with a broad warm smile. Somehow Minh could not bring himself to feel any ill will toward her. She seemed not all that different from his sister Mi. The window to the veranda was open and a cool sea breeze was blowing in. The room was quite cheerful. The woman had the television turned on to the American Forces channel. Again the inside of her robe was billowing.

  “Everyone is fine at home? Lei, Mi and your mother?”

  “Yes.”

  After plugging in the coffeepot, Mimi returned and sat with her legs crossed on a wicker chair across from him. The beach robe fastened only from the neck down to the waist, and its lower flaps naturally parted to reveal the thighs of her long legs. Minh shifted his glance here and there somewhat awkwardly. She offered him a cigarette from a pack of Kents. He welcomed the distraction and took one.

  “I’ve heard about a younger brother who was in medical school up in Hue. It was Minh, I think?”

  “Yes, that’s my name.”

  “You don’t look much like Major Pham. But wait a minute, yes, I see the resemblance between you and Lei.”

  “Lei and I take after our mother, and Big Brother after our father.”

  “What about your big sister?”

  “I don’t know, maybe half and half.”

  “I’m sorry, I should visit your home often, but I haven’t been there even once yet. What can I do? I’m so scared. I think you can understand. I’m a foreigner, and our lifestyle being what it is . . .”

  Mimi stopped mid-sentence and rushed over to the steaming coffeepot.

  “Your mother doesn’t like me, right? Or, rather, the whole family doesn’t.”

  “I didn’t either.”

  “Ah, then I’d better make a good impression on you.”

  “Are you getting married?”

  “We already did. Legally, I’m his wife.”

  “Do you believe he’ll actually take you abroad?”

  She set the coffee down in front of him, then picked up the cigarette she’d placed in the ashtray and took a deep puff.

  “Yes, as long as his plans and mine don’t conflict. I extended the time I’m willing to wait from three months to a year. Quyen is always talking about it: either we go out or we send you first, but in any event the whole family has to leave this country, that’s what he says. Then we won’t have to worry about having a child.”

  She was some woman, direct and uninhibited. Minh didn’t know how to respond.

  “How did you find the house? Did your brother tell you the way?”

  “No. Lei said she was here once and drew me a map.”

  “Lei is naughty. She knows where I am and never paid a visit.”

  “Are you always at home?”

  “I go downtown now and then.”

  “Da Nang must be boring for you.”

  “Living is more or less the same wherever you are. Have y
ou left school for good?”

  “I’m going to enlist.”

  “Well I’m sure your brother will find a way to help you out.”

  “He probably will. I’ve come to ask a favor.”

  Mimi looked at him with widened eyes but said nothing.

  “I want to earn some money until I’m ready to go abroad to study.”

  “Money? It’s filthy stuff, true, but look at those Americans. With it there’s not a thing in the world they can’t do. Money’s not just a piece of paper or gold.”

  “What is it, then?”

  “Money is freedom itself. The more you have, the freer you’ll be. No money, no freedom.”

  “Madame is not a housewife, but is running some kind of business, I suppose?”

  “Both,” said Mimi with a wink.

  What little hatred Minh had felt for her by this time was gone. She was different from Quyen. A woman who had pulled herself up from the very bottom, she was frank and generous both to herself and others.

  “We’re partners and we love each other. I’m not just wasting time, either. To settle abroad there’s something more convenient than gold.”

  “Dollars?”

  “No. Money orders—military remittance checks. Occasionally I go to the Sports Club with the finance office staff to play cards and be their friend. We need it. And you will, too, when you take off. Wait, you said you wanted to ask a favor . . . to make money, is that what you said?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Business, that’s what you should do.”

  “What kind?”

  “In a place like this, the most profitable business, after all, is to buy and sell the goods of those American bastards.”

  “That’s why I came here, to ask you to talk my brother into finding a job for me.”

  “I’ve got an idea. There’s a merchant named Cuong. He has dealings with Quyen, and maybe you can go there and help with your brother’s trading, right?”

  “Is it Nguyen Cuong?”

  “You know him?”

  “Ah, no. He’s one of the richest merchants in Da Nang. My father used to be one, too.”

  “I heard he was in the medicinal herb business. Anyway, don’t worry. Major Pham listens attentively to my advice. You’ll have no problem working for Cuong. What do you say, does that kind of work suit you?”