The Shadow of Arms

by Hwang Sok-Yong

  “I don’t want to play tennis. If I go down there in shorts and with a racket, they’ll all stop and stare at me.”

  “It’s because they’re fighting against your own countrymen. But what about the general’s villa in Bai Bang? It has a wonderful pool, why not take me there once in a while?”

  “I get too much exercise, that’s my problem. Do you have any idea how busy I’ve been lately? My belly has even melted away. At this rate, I’ll become an alpinist.”

  “Are you headed up into the mountains again today?”

  “What do you mean ‘again today’? We have to finish everything in one month. I don’t think it can be done. We should set up a headquarters in Ha Thanh and just stay there.”

  Pham Quyen wiped his fingers with a napkin and got to his feet. “My uniform.”

  Hae Jong called the maid and in awkward Vietnamese told her to bring the major’s clothes. Standing behind him after he had changed into his crisply starched uniform, she said, “So you mean you’ll be staying in the jungle?”

  “The harvesting starts today.”

  “I don’t like it. This place is not like in the city, and I’m scared to stay out here in the middle of nowhere all alone.”

  “You have nothing to worry about.”

  After putting on his hat, Quyen went out into the living room and sat down on the couch. A minute later he was ready to leave.

  “What’s there to be afraid of? You’re not a child. We’ll have workers from Nyugen Cuong’s side as well as from ours, but the soldiers are all under the Second Division commander and I’ll have to keep a close eye on them. We have to protect our cinnamon.”

  Hae Jong gave in. “You’re right, the work is important.”

  The cinnamon collection operation up in the highlands, which Pham Quyen had planned a month earlier, was going ahead without a hitch. One of the branches of the Thu Bon River ran through Da Nang but the main flow spread through the Hoi An region where half a dozen branches had formed a delta. From the delta the river wound back and ran parallel to Route 1 up to East Tuanh Bay north of Chu Lai. Upstream there are two main tributaries of the Thu Bon: the northern stream has its source in the highlands near the settlements of An Diem and Lien Hiep, while the southern stream gathers at a junction near Tabik, from which a branch also runs down southeast into the Chang River, irrigating the fields of Tam Ky.

  Pham Quyen and Nguyen Cuong had gone up in General Liam’s Cobra and surveyed from the air the entire region southeast of Da Nang and on up into the highlands. Starting from An Diem, they had made a round of the Quoi River, which runs through Bien Jiang, passed the Hiep bank up the Chang River toward Tabik, then across the Jiang Hoa fields to Ha Thanh and back to An Diem. At last Nguyen Cuong spotted a large stand of cinnamon trees and cried out. Pham Quyen’s heart leapt as he peered down through his binoculars. It was indeed a sight: the cinnamon forest went on and on, most of the trees too large for a man to clasp his arms around the trunks. An entire section of the jungle covered with cinnamon trees.

  After passing over a few times, Cuong gave his opinion. They needed to make a ground survey for a closer look, but that it appeared to him there was another stand of cinnamon trees across the Quoi River, too. The produce from the cinnamon harvest in the region running from An Diem past Ha Thanh toward Tabik, Phuoc Binh and An Hoa ought, he said, to sell for over one hundred million piasters.

  “Before this dry season is over we should be able to manage a couple of harvesting operations. The monsoon comes in September, so we have no time to loose. Once the rains come, nothing will be possible until next March.”

  “You can have them go on working, can’t you?”

  “We can’t keep the soldiers in the field for that long. We’ll have to try to salvage a crop worth fifty million piasters from a shorter intensive operation.”

  The corners of Hae Jong’s eyes narrowed as she asked, “And what will be our share?”

  “Well . . . about ten million, I suppose.”

  “Why so little?”

  “The area is under the jurisdiction of the Second Division commander, General Van Toan. And from his share something will have to go to the mayor of Hoi An. General Liam will take at least three-fifths, which doesn’t leave much for Cuong and me.”

  “But the jungle is so vast, you say. Why not divide the area up?”

  “It’s not easy to get workers.”

  Hae Jong lit a cigarette, took a long drag, and after thinking for a moment said, “Aren’t the residents of the resettlement villages under your jurisdiction? You can use them.”

  “Not a bad idea. Well, I’ll be back. I’ll let you know if we decide to stay up in Ha Thanh.”

  Pham Quyen knelt down in the front hall to tie up the laces on his combat boots.

  “If I’m not at home,” Hae Jong said from behind him, “come find me at the Sports Club.”

  “You mean you’re going back to Madame Lin’s?” Quyen asked in a sullen tone. “What do you do there, anyway? Play cards and flirt with junior American officers?”

  “I guess so,” she said, nodding. “The piasters you’ll be bringing in will need to be converted into dollars, and when that accumulates we’ll want to convert it all into a check redeemable abroad. You know we can’t leave the country with cash.”

  Pham Quyen sighed. “It seems like you’re in too much of a hurry.”

  “Wait and see. We only have a year left. Maybe even not that long.”

  “Don’t worry. General Liam will be asked to join the Cabinet.”

  Hae Jong pushed him softly. “If he joins the government of Saigon, he’ll change his mount. He doesn’t trust you, never has. You’re his horse in Da Nang, but he’ll have a fresh one waiting in Saigon. I know how things work in high society.”

  Pham Quyen got into the Land Rover and was soon driving along Son Tinh beach. It was early in the morning, but already the mist was lifting and lingered visibly only at the distant edge of the forest. He had left home so early not to go to the office, but to pay a visit to the governor of Bai Bang. He passed through downtown, crossed the smokestack bridge, and in high spirits headed toward Monkey Mountain, north of the bay of Da Nang. The Land Rover clung firmly to the road as it crept forward like a scarab. After entering through the main gate to the headquarters compound he took the road to the left, spooking a flock of birds that raucously lifted into the air. The sea seemed rather calm. He passed under the watchtower and pulled into the parking lot. The leader of the sentry detachment, a staff sergeant, saluted him. As usual, Major Pham took out his revolver and handed it over.

  “Is the old man here?”

  “He is, over there.” Smiling slightly, the sergeant pointed the way. Pham Quyen heard splashing coming from the swimming pool behind the house. The dew on the grass reflected the morning sunlight and the water looked crystal clear against the white tile lining the bottom of the pool. The general’s favorite concubine, half-French, half-Vietnamese, clad in a scarlet bikini, was doing a backstroke across the pool, showing of her smooth, long legs. The general was stretched on a folding chair on the right side of the pool in the shade of some wisteria vines. Pham Quyen stopped a few feet away and saluted.

  “Welcome. Come over and sit down,” the general said, taking his sunglasses off and placing them on the table he’d been using as an armrest.

  When Quyen looked back, the woman held up one arm and shouted, “Good morning, Major! Come swim with me!”

  Pham Quyen answered with a stiff salute and stood next to the general.

  “So, the operation starts today?”

  “Yes, sir,” replied Pham Quyen, taking a map out of his pocket and unfolding it on the table. “MAC will provide helicopter support and the Second Division will supply combat forces, using Ha Thanh and An Hoa as base camps. We’ll mobilize trucks, bulldozers, and tanks. The areas with concentrations of cinnam
on are here, and here.” He pointed to the highlands area where the Thu Bon River forked into two tributaries.

  “I called Major General Van Toan myself.”

  “Yes sir, I’m aware. I’m supposed to meet him at An Hoa. The official reason for this operation will be the pacification of the refugee settlements at An Diem and An Hoa. An Diem is to be a test zone for the phoenix hamlets projects, and the Developmental Revolution Committee has planned to establish a large-scale industrial complex at An Hoa by resettling rural farmers. Deforestation is a necessary step to make the jungle farmable.”

  “We should have a security battalion set up a base for defending and controlling An Diem and An Hoa districts.”

  “I am sure we can mobilize troops from elsewhere in Quang Nam Province, sir.”

  The Chinese cook brought out a tray heaping with fruit and cookies. The woman got out of the pool dripping with water. Pham Quyen picked up a towel from the back of a chair and wrapped it around her.

  “Merci.” She dried her wet hair with the towel. “What are you two plotting?”

  “Take my helicopter. And next time you should accompany us on our trip to Saigon.”

  “I would be honored to, sir.”

  General Liam picked up a cold slice of melon and mumbled, “At least now we’re spending our time on a worthwhile enterprise. In Saigon, everything’s in a chaos. That’s what worries the president. He had announced that the military government should step aside as soon as possible, but it’s only been a few months since the election and he’s already complaining about the corruption.”

  “When things are rushed, there’s bound to be collateral damage,” Pham Quyen said gravely.

  “Which is why I’m counting on you,” the general readily agreed. “Both General Nguyen Phu Quoc and Dang Van Quang, who fell out of the prime minister’s favor last year, were dismissed because they ignored the general consensus. Quoc has twelve children and always seemed to have a new girlfriend. Those close to him knew about the real estate swindles for a long time. Now he’s in Taiwan.”

  “So he slipped away. What’s he doing there?”

  “He’s arranging overseas business for some of the politicians and active-duty generals with whom he was connected here. Quang is back in the government, acting as a commercial deputy for the president.” General Liam scrutinized Pham Quyen with a piercing stare. “After all, that’s what it’s like in Saigon. We’re too far away here. You should also quit active duty. And work for me abroad.”

  “Are you preparing to join the Cabinet, sir?”

  “I’m preparing for many different things. The key is to choose the right line. There has not as yet been any conflict between His Excellency and the vice-president, but the balance of power is tense. To lose the favor of either side would not be good. You can’t ignore the young generals on the side of the reformers, but neither can you slight practical power. I’m afraid it’ll cost a lot.”

  Pham Quyen straightened himself up and said, “I understand, sir. I’ll serve you the best that I can.”

  “We’d better have enough cash ready. Jewelry’s not bad, either.”

  “Before your trip to Saigon, let me have a list of your supporters. I’ll make detailed investigations into their families, relations with friends and relatives, and work out some contingency plans.”

  “I suppose you ought to. You may go now.”

  Pham Quyen got up and saluted the governor. Then he bowed to the French-Vietnamese woman. As soon as he was gone, the woman, who had been quietly listening to the conversation, asked, “Can you trust that man?”

  “What do you think?”

  “Looks extremely ambitious. Also very meticulous.”

  The governor lightly pulled her ear. “Is that your way of saying you find him to your liking?”

  “The longer you use a thing the better it suits you, but I don’t think it’s true with people,” was the woman’s witty reply.

  The governor’s smile was gone and with dignity he said, “We’ll just have to wait and see.”

  Pham Quyen went straight to the heliport at corps headquarters and got aboard the general’s private helicopter, a Cobra. They took off and headed on their way alone, without any escort of gunships. It was ten after nine. The helicopter climbed into the skies over Da Nang and was cruising over the long expanse of rice paddies beyond Dong Dao when a formation of US gunships came into view ahead.

  “They’re going the same direction, sir,” the pilot remarked.

  “The offensive begins at nine, that’s why.”

  At the order of the operations headquarters, the gunships were going to bomb several suspected strongholds. It would only be intimidation fire, but it would benefit the US as much as the NLF. The NLF would read it as the opening of a large-scale operation and retreat deep into the jungle and far from the operations zone. And the US forces would see it as confirmation of the progress of the pacification operations by the ARVN Second Division.

  “That’s Ha Thanh, sir,” said the pilot, pointing down at a valley where the river narrowed.

  The formation of helicopter gunships flew on toward the west. Below, the yellow smoke of a signal flare marking the landing zone was floating up from the makeshift heliport. From above, the entrance of Ha Thanh valley seemed congested with transport vehicles and combat forces. Three Chinook helicopters had already landed. As the Cobra descended, there was an ear-splitting din of rockets and machine gun fire. The attack by the gunships must have started.

  The command post had been set up in the old district office building at the edge of the river in Ha Thanh. In the old days the same building had been used as a base for the French army garrison. It was a solid structure and fairly well fortified with cement walls and sand bags. The magistrates in both Ha Thanh and An Hoa were field-grade military officers. As Pham Quyen got out of the Jeep, the Ha Thanh magistrate, another major, greeted him. The two men shook hands without ceremony and did not bother to salute.

  “The general has already arrived and is waiting for you.”

  He led the way. Although they were of the same rank, Pham Quyen was in a way his superior since he was the head of an administrative unit under the control of the Quang Nam provincial government. Indeed, as the chief secretary to the governor as well as aide-de-camp to the chief commander for the ARVN in central Vietnam, Major Pham had in his hands virtually total power over personnel administration. Pham Quyen made a solemn salute to General Van Toan.

  “It’s late. You should’ve been here at least a half-hour before the start of operations.”

  Van Toan was wearing a metal helmet reminiscent of the Ngo Dinh Diem days and sunglasses. He was attended by three field officers and a sergeant who appeared to be his bodyguard.

  “I apologize,” said Pham Quyen. “I’m a bit late because I made a report to His Excellency the Governor before coming here.”

  “Did the corps commander stay in Doc Lap, or across the river last night?”

  “He’s now at the villa in Bai Bang, sir.”

  “What a life.”

  Pham Quyen said nothing. Instead he turned to look at the map stuck on the wall with thumbtacks. “The operation is already underway, isn’t it?”

  The operations officer from Division looked inquiringly at General Van Toan.

  “What the hell are you waiting for?” the general said. “This is Major Pham from the Corps. Brief him.”

  The operations officer, a lieutenant colonel, began to explain, using his baton as a pointer. “At 1700 hours yesterday, the reconnaissance company left Ha Thanh and seized the bridge passage leading to the Tung Duk area. In An Hoa, also, the reconnaissance group that set out from Phuoc Binh penetrated into Quang Lung and Bien Daio and set up a blocking line. The US helicopters have just bombarded the Bien Jiang and Tabik areas located at the far west of the zone. Starting now, one battalion will be sw
eeping down southwest from Ha Thanh, and another will sweep all the way from An Hoa to Tabik. When the cast net is drawn in, each battalion will dispatch a company of commandos to establish an independent buffer in Bien Jiang and Quang Lung. We estimate it will take approximately ten days from the commencement of these operations for us to complete seizure of all the strongholds.”

  “That’s too long,” said Pham Quyen. “Move it up to one week.”

  “As you can see on this map, the jungle in this area has two peaks lined up here. Hill 3383 and Hill 3750. The ravines lying between these two hills are woven crisscross like a maze. There are at least half a dozen rivulets winding through there, too. It will be very simple to pass through this area and secure Hill 3750 to the south. But, even though it takes time, unless we thoroughly comb those ravines, the enemy will use that zone to pass freely and we will be facing counterattacks from the front as well as the rear. The problem is these two little highland hamlets west of Lin Hiep and these four on the river south of Quang Lung. We know for certain that they are so-called ‘liberated areas’ under enemy control.”

  At that moment they heard a loud whistling sound outside, followed by an explosion somewhere not far off.

  “That’s an M114 howitzer. We’re getting artillery support from the division in An Hoa.”

  “They can’t fire even one shell into the forest.”

  The general laughed. “Don’t worry. They’re just hitting those ravines. Our aerial reconnaissance already fixed and passed along some precise coordinates.”

  “Then those six hamlets are the only problem. The enemy will safely hole up there until the bombing and air raids are over, then make a surprise counterattack at night.”

  The general smacked his lips. “Well, that’s what we’re afraid of, too. We can’t just leave them alone and we’re not in a position to bomb the places, either. I wish the corps commander would give us an order . . .”

  “Let’s try the methods the Americans use.”

  “We, ourselves?”