“Better keep the shutters closed,” Stapley murmured.
“After we’re gone, that’s fine, but for now you should familiarize yourself with the layout.”
One bed right under the window, an empty bucket and a basin next to the door, two wooden chairs, a small desk like you would find in a schoolroom—those were the furnishings.
Yong Kyu took out his notebook and a pen. “Tell me what you need,” he said to Stapley.
“A coffee pot and a kettle, a few cups, a plate, silverware, also a fan if I’m to be cooped up here all day long, and a little refrigerator . . .” Then Stapley paused and waved both hands as if suddenly struck by some revelation. “Forget it. I’m on the run. What the hell do I need those things for?”
Toi exchanged a few words with the landlord and then said, “He will lend you a hotplate. You can warm up C-rations for meals. He said he’s also got a coffee pot, cups, and plates from the kitchen that you can use.”
“Thank you,” Stapley said as he flopped down on the iron bed with metal springs. “Now I can dream about Saigon.”
Yong Kyu and Toi left him there with a simple good-bye and followed the owner down the steps. They heard Stapley shout from upstairs, “Tell Leon he’s going to win that bet!”
At around two o’clock, the usual hour for siesta at Nguyen Cuong Trading Company, Thach came by the warehouse as promised to see Pham Minh.
“Everything all right?”
He grinned at Minh as he sat on top of the desk across from him. Heat was pouring in through the open window. Thach gazed outside as he spoke.
“On my way over I submitted a report on the successful outcome of the training exercise by the reinforcement contingents of the 434th Special Action Group. Confirmation of the operation results came through the administrative agent in Somdomeh district, and I then passed the report up the chain of command. Cells A, B, and C each executed their missions superbly. In particular, the initiative of cell A in distributing leaflets among day laborers working on the American base was commendable. Since that was not specifically called for in their orders, the administrative agent criticized cell A, but the district committee’s opinion was different. They had conducted sufficient advance surveys and dry runs, and the cell members waited until the workers had been searched and were milling outside the gates of the base before covering the streets and alleys along their path with leaflets. Even more impressive is that they tried to use the young cigarette peddlers and shoeshine boys from the nearby refugee camps to hand out the leaflets.”
“The administrative agent’s criticism was warranted, perhaps? Seems very risky.”
“No, not necessarily,” Thach said, shaking his finger. “Urban guerrillas conducting small-scale operations at the cell level can’t carry out effective missions if they limit themselves to only following orders handed down by the higher command. The daring and imaginative steps taken by cell A deserve high praise. First of all, the group they brilliantly singled out was the best available to target in Somdomeh. Tell me, as you learned in Atwat, what are our targets?”
“The imperialist forces and their facilities.”
“You see? That cell A selected Vietnamese laborers working on the American base as their target for leafleting was a very well calculated decision. We know only too well that those workers, in order to survive, go to the US military barracks every day and do all sorts of menial work from cleaning garbage to washing clothes and so on. It may be that some of these men reduced to servitude are given petty gifts by the American soldiers like a bit of cash or a lump of meat, and so they might momentarily forget who’s the enemy and who’s responsible for the miserable state of their motherland.
“On the other hand, there may be others who, though they are reduced to such lowly work for the sake of their families, carry a deep-seeded hatred of the US Imprinting on their minds the existence of the NLF is one of our key goals. Even if we don’t succeed in recruiting them, if we can just convince them to believe in our cause, it is as much a victory as if we had overrun and occupied an enemy base. And, after getting the young boys around the base gate to hand out the leaflets, they dissolved into the crowd and monitored their performance, which was even more remarkable.
“Mass provocation is most successful when it involves spontaneity of the masses themselves. Those young boys were not in any danger, of course, even if they had gotten arrested by the police or by ARVN forces. It has happened before, in fact. The boys have no idea about the contents of the leaflets—they just say that a grown-up had given them some money to distribute them. The police have no choice but to let them go. In this case, the crowd stood behind a boy who was apprehended just as he was finishing handing out leaflets. According to cell A, it took about thirty minutes for the police to appear on the scene. You see, most local people would not think of reporting such things to the police.
“Ultimately, the purpose of the training exercise lies in nurturing one’s ability to cope with unexpected contingencies. Urban guerrillas always have to make snap decisions.”
After listening to Nguyen Thach’s quiet but impassioned voice, Minh felt a burning sensation surging up in his throat. He let out a long deep breath. Thach frowned slightly. “Do you, Comrade Pham Minh, disagree with what I’ve said?”
“Oh, no, sir. I just feel so frustrated.”
“Frustrated?”
“Because I’m playing no useful role in operations, just acting as a warehouse keeper.”
Thach’s face grew stern as he peered straight into Minh’s eyes.
“This mission is important. Today we have two assignments to carry out. We have to receive the firearms for the reinforcement contingent in the Third Special District and see that they’re delivered without the slightest hitch. And then you need to make contact with Kiem.”
“But I don’t know him, sir.”
“Kiem works in the same office as your brother, right? I’m sure you can find a way to be introduced to him.”
“I’ll try.”
Thach stood up. “You had lunch?”
“Yes, I ate in the office.”
“Then let’s call the foreman in here. I’ll go ahead and wait for you at the Chrysanthemum Pub.”
As the siesta period ended, activity was resuming at the intercity bus terminal. Passengers were loading their luggage and boxes onto the roof racks of the thirty-seat buses. Three-wheeler motorized carts were zipping through the crowd in the old market and ferrying all sorts of goods here and there. The big freight trucks bound for distant destinations had long since pulled out in the coolness of dawn. Afternoon was the time for the trucks headed for Hue, Hoi An, and Tam Ky to depart. Inbound vehicles from the highlands wouldn’t be arriving at the terminal until evening.
Nguyen Thach entered the pub through the back door, strode through the kitchen and, as always, took a seat in the very back of the place. Lunchtime was over and there were no customers. Only tea was served until dinner. After he sat down in the compartment and pulled the bead curtains, a young waiter brought him a pot of green tea.
“Welcome, Uncle.”
Thach casually nodded to the youth and asked, “Has he come?”
“Yes, sir. He’s outside, over there.”
“Show him in.”
Thach poured out a little tea into a cup and stirred it a few times to warm the cup before filling it. As he carefully poured out the tea, he heard a low voice.
“Comrade Nguyen, it’s been a long time.”
A youth in ARVN uniform with a sergeant’s insignia on his shoulder greeted him, awkwardly touching the brim of his hat with his right hand.
“Have a seat. Everything’s in order across the river, I hope?”
“We’re in a hell of a fix, sir.”
“That same old story still? How’s Comrade Banh Hao?”
The young man removed his hat and waved it l
ike a fan in front of his chest to generate a little breeze.
“Same as ever. Buying goods is getting more and more difficult, sir.”
“I understand tax collection is going fairly well.”
“Money’s not the problem. Lately, even the government army is steering clear of dangerous dealings. Firearms are coming in steadily, but the problem is the ammunition and bombs. There are some bombs still coming down the Ho Chi Minh Trail, but the quantities are still not enough. With the shortage, we must supply without fail the bombs to be used in Quang Nam Province.”
Nguyen Thach was well aware that the operations conducted in Da Nang were crucial. The .61 caliber mortar rounds of the US forces could readily be used in larger bore mortars, and 3.5 inch rockets could also be used as is in Chinese launchers. Anyway, most of the weapons used by the local guerrillas were American-made, and the NLF’s fundamental principle was to make use of enemy hardware and ammunition as much as possible.
“There’s one thing I don’t understand, though. Supplies of C-rations and small arms ammo keep falling off.”
“There’s a reason for that. A strong wind is now whirling in the Da Nang black market. Prospects aren’t at all gloomy for us, either.”
“What is it?”
“The phoenix hamlets project. Rice, seed, fertilizer, cattle and all sorts of construction materials have begun to pour out. They’re already flowing into cities all over Quang Nam and I’m sure they’re heading to other provinces, too. It’s only natural that business in the market tends to focus upon those transactions.”
“We’re dealing with units of the government forces,” said the agent from the market across the river in the shadow of the smokestack, cocking his head.
“Maybe the problem is with the middlemen. I bet they are getting their share of this new unlimited flow of materials and are selling it in the markets. No need now for them to expose themselves to risky dealings.”
“Probably a passing phenomenon. Don’t people still say that you can even buy disassembled tanks and helicopters in the Da Nang black market?”
Nguyen Thach beamed and said playfully, “Business has already entered a new phase. We’re talking enormous quantities now.”
“How much?”
“I’m told about three hundred hamlets are to be created. New settlements with from fifty to one hundred houses each are already under construction. In Quang Nam Province alone, there will be three hundred such new settlements.”
“Three, three hundred?” The agent seemed shocked.
“Doesn’t it mean that NLF-controlled zones will be diminished and local fighters will lose their cover?”
“No . . . just the opposite. Within three months we’ll be controlling all the phoenix hamlets, just as we did with the strategic hamlets before. The peasants will learn to think of the hamlets as encampments on the American or Saigon side. The people will never be pried away from us. What’s more, we should keep in mind the fact that each hamlet is to have an armed militia. The enemy is helping us by giving the local people military training as well as guns and ammunition.”
The sergeant swallowed his tea. “It’s an immense, rich lode of ore to mine!”
“It is. Still, mines and detonators, mortar shells and rifle cartridges, the latest model US automatic weapons, those are problems we’ll have to solve for ourselves.”
“By then we’ll have secured heavier firepower. I expect ammunition supplies will increase to reflect the new manpower.”
“Yes, so don’t be moaning and groaning too loudly. From now on we won’t have time to blink. First things first, right? I’ve received orders to supply armaments for the reinforcements. I hope you’re ready.”
The agent took out a piece of paper from his pocket and read it. “Subject: Weapon requisition for Fourth Company of 434th Special Action Group in the Third Special District. Five submachine guns, three M2 carbines, four .45 pistols, and three .38 revolvers. That’s all, sir. Hand grenades, plastics and detonators will be supplied later, when required for planned missions.”
“Those items should be furnished by them on their own. Any luck with a C79 rocket launcher?”
“We managed to buy a couple, but we sent them to the Quang Ngai District first.”
“We’ve got to try harder to get hold of the newer model American equipment.”
“The crucial thing,” the agent said, “is to centralize the supply channel. We’ll be looking forward to help from the new cell member operating in the old Le Loi market. As for current supplies, we’ve been able to keep a flow along the Thu Bon River. By the way, how is the new man? Is he reliable?”
“Not only is he reliable, he’s got all kinds of excellent connections. Best of all, he’s out on active duty, just like you, not a barracks man. He’s enlisted in the air force, assigned to the American air base in Da Nang. His background is as solid as they come. His older brother is none other than the adjutant to General Liam.”
“You mean Major Pham Quyen? Comrade Banh Hao will be surprised. Is the district council also aware of this?”
“Yes, they have the details. When he volunteered to join the NLF, the recruiting officer at Hue University included the details on his recommendation and submitted the report to higher authorities.”
The waiter stuck his face inside the bead curtain. “Mr. Pham Minh has arrived, sir.”
“Send him back here.”
As he walked inside, Minh shot a wary glance at the sergeant in ARVN uniform.
“Say hello,” Thach said. “This here is the army and you, Comrade, are the air force, aren’t you? So that puts the two of you on the same side.”
The sergeant held out his hand to Pham Minh.
“Comrade Pham Minh, pleased to meet you. My name is Le Muong Panh, I work down in the smokestack market.”
Minh felt shy as he grasped the tip of the hand of the sergeant who looked to be five or six years his senior.
“I am Pham Minh.”
“Graduate of the military training course at Atwat?”
“Yes, I am.”
“You’re from the North, I think?” said Nguyen Thach.
“That’s right, from Dong Hoi training camp.”
Le Muong Panh nodded slowly as if it were only natural. Dong Hoi was in operation even before the American intervention, which would make him a veteran among the guerrillas. He must have spent at least five years walking the thin line between life and death in the jungle and the city. Minh remembered that his friend Tanh, who had recruited him and was now fighting in the Second Special District up in Hue, also was from Dong Hoi.
“I need your guidance in many ways, sir,” Minh said earnestly.
Thach picked up Le’s things and handed them to Minh. “Let’s get this job done quickly. Comrade Pham, cross the river with Comrade Le and bring the goods over here. You can leave them in the warehouse.”
“Now, sir?”
“Yes. You’ll be going to the store run by Comrade Banh Hao often. Be a good partner for Comrade Le.”
The three men exited the pub through the front door. Nguyen Thach j scanned the street and soon a man in a collarless shirt and khaki shorts ran toward him. He was chewing on a sweet rice cake wrapped in a banana leaf.
“You have a car?”
“Didn’t you bring your van, sir?”
“A three-wheeler is probably better.”
Considering the nature of the goods to be transported, Thach thought it would be advisable to be inconspicuous. A van would be expected for moving a refrigerator or electric appliances, but grain and vegetables would be more likely to be carried on a three-wheeler. Thach signaled with his eyes to Le and Minh.
“Hurry up. Comrade Pham, bring the goods back and wait for me before leaving the office for the day.”
Minh and Le squeezed themselves into the back of the three-wheele
r. It rumbled down along the shore. The driver mumbled something to Le, food still in his mouth.
“I’ve seen him only from a distance, and today was the first time I met him.”
“Ah, is that right?” muttered Le.
Pham exchanged a nod with the driver as the latter turned to take a quick look at him.
“He’s been in charge of transportation, aiding Comrade Nguyen for a long time,” Le said to Pham Minh. “I was over in Pleiku last week, and things have quieted down a bit.”
The three-wheeler crossed the bridge, turned left toward the US forces headquarters, and then drove on for some time on the wide highway to Bai Bang. Then they passed by the ARVN barracks and turned up into a working class residential area. On either side of the alleys stood small houses of similar sizes, and little shops were lining the main street. They pulled midway up a long block of shops and stopped in front of a large rice dealership.
Le entered the store first. Sacks of American AID grain and bushels of government grain stamped with official seals were stacked up to the ceiling. On the floor was a huge wicker basket full of rice, a squarish gourd used as a measure, and containers of barley, wheat flour, and other assorted grain. A couple of workmen moved aside to allow them to pass.
Minh followed Le inside the store. As they pushed open a side door, they came to a bigger warehouse, passed through it, then emerged into a yard. The yard was small, but it had palm trees, a few evergreens, and a line of flowerpots. Facing them was a house, with a door in the center and two wide glass windows on either side. A man was standing behind one of the windows with his arms behind his back, watching the two young men as they crossed the yard. The room inside the house was the office for the store. It had two desks, a sofa and a chair, and a steel cabinet upon which was pasted a map of downtown Da Nang.
“Sir, this is Mr. Pham Minh from the Nguyen Cuong Company.”
Banh’s hair was grayish, but the deep wrinkles on his cheeks and forehead gave more of an impression of strong will than of the feebleness of age. He was clad in Mack pants and a white cotton shirt.
The Shadow of Arms Page 46
