The Shadow of Arms

by Hwang Sok-Yong

  Toi looked at his open notebook and slowly murmured, “Hasn’t been much fruit, has there?”

  “Vietnam has too much local fruit—bananas, mangos, coconuts, papayas, big tangerines.”

  “The fruit I mean is the kind they use at drinking places, like king-sized cherries, lemons, oranges, grapes, and most of all, apples from Washington. The apples are the big item.”

  Yong Kyu nodded. “Right. Apples don’t grow here.”

  “Let’s give a call to our Smarty. Make him earn his piasters.”

  Toi got up and went over to make the telephone call. He was going to talk to the bookkeeper at Puohung Company to try and get some further information out of him. The waiter brought over a pot of green tea on a tray. Ahn Yong Kyu asked him something in Vietnamese, and after receiving the reply, held up three fingers.

  Toi returned. “He said he’d be here soon.”

  “I ordered duck for three. In Vietnamese.”

  Toi chuckled. “Not bad. Your Vietnamese is getting much better.”

  Ahn Yong Kyu asked, “Is Stapley doing all right?”

  “Not really, no. The landlord says he’s been sleeping all day. And at night they can hear him pacing around.”

  “Have you spoken with him?”

  “He’s a real hippie now. He begged me so much I had to buy a handful of marijuana for him. If this were Saigon, he could come out and wander around with no problem. There’s not a trace of military left in him.”

  “His beard must be getting long by now. The day’s fast approaching.”

  “We don’t know the exact date yet.”

  “Don’t say another word about it,” said Yong Kyu, pointing his finger at Toi. “We promised Leon so we have to send him off safely to Nha Trang. You’re concerned about the business, aren’t you?”

  Toi jumped up, upset. “What the hell do you take me for? It’s not that, it’s that the landlord’s son is on a boat that has to stop at many ports before returning here. He said he received a letter from his son saying he’d be arriving home a little later.”

  “Let’s go see him today.”

  As he looked out through the screen on the window, Yong Kyu spotted Nguyen Thach in a white cotton shirt over at the truck terminal area. Toi grumbled that the way he wore that shirt buttoned all the way up made Thach look like he was trying to imitate an aristocrat of the old Hue Dynasty. If he had a robe as well, he’d pass for a scholar of the old days. Yong Kyu watched him shaking hands and chatting with the truck drivers.

  “Don’t you find him rather mysterious?”

  “Who? Nguyen Thach?”

  “Yes. You’re the one who said that even if he’s not NLF himself, he’ll be profiting from that side.”

  Toi nodded. “That was my feeling in the beginning. Now, it’s just a matter of time. We’ll find out the contents of the US transactions and also who the big NLF dealer is. I’ve got lots of old friends working with the QCs at the guard posts by the smokestack bridge. I can smell something in the air.”

  “Smell? What do you smell?”

  “Too early to say. But the NLF’s local supply lines are sure as hell linked to the market across the bridge.”

  “What’s Major Pham up to today?”

  Toi laughed. “He’s out of Da Nang. Joined some operation.”

  “Combat operation? You mean they kicked him out of the provincial office?”

  “Pham Quyen is busy exploring the jungle. He’s obsessed with cinnamon. Rumor has it he’s issued an order to exterminate all the highland tribes up there. He’s quite a character. You haven’t seen Nguyen Cuong around either, have you? Maybe he’s also up in the jungle with Major Pham.”

  “What about the supplies for the phoenix hamlets project?”

  “They keep on coming out. It’s a first-rate enterprise for the office. But the reason I’m interested in the smokestack market is because the atmosphere’s a little strange.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Look, this is my country. I haven’t missed a single word. Go down to the pier and see for yourself. Rice keeps on being shipped out, but the cement and slate are staying put. What that means is that some other commodity is now popular.”

  “It’s because Nguyen Thach has latched on to the channel for medical supplies, I’m sure.”

  Toi listened without saying anything and then looked in his notebook. “Listen, Ahn, the construction material like cement and slate are mostly bought by little villages and farmers in non-occupied zones. That the first period of the NLF tax year has just started may be the reason for a shortage of money to buy such things, but in my opinion the reason is that the other items being purchased are war matériel. Guns and ammunition, to be exact. The merchants on the NLF side receive requisition orders from their district committees. What kind of items might those committees be most eager to lay their hands on? Money would flow to that direction. After a certain time passes, the money flow will be replenished. The taxes they are collecting will pour into the black market.”

  “Here comes our Smarty.”

  Upon catching sight of the clerk from Puohung Company, Yong Kyu cautioned Toi. A tall, lean man in his thirties entered. Toi spoke to him first. Even after he had taken a seat he kept glancing around uncomfortably.

  “I don’t like this place,” he said.

  “No need to worry,” Yong Kyu said, “we dine here with all the merchants in the market. This is only your second time here.”

  Toi deliberately kept his mouth shut so that Yong Kyu could extract information for himself.

  “Today was the navy cold storage again?” Yong Kyu asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Which American unit are they from?”

  “Headquarters. Civic support unit.”

  “Rank?”

  “Gunnery sergeant.”

  “What did he deliver and how much?”

  “Vegetables again. Potatoes and onions.”

  Toi spoke to Yong Kyu. “That’s strange. There haven’t been any big operations around Da Nang. I wonder why the Americans are still only bringing out vegetables.”

  Yong Kyu waited for the clerk to reply.

  “Well, that’s not really the case,” the clerk said. “No vegetables have been coming in to Da Nang from Dien Banh or the area around Jiang Hoa.”

  “That’s Major Pham’s doing,” Toi said with a knowing air, then directly asked, “And why is there no fruit coming?”

  “There is.”

  Both men were greatly surprised.

  “We’ve got a hundred boxes of apples ready to go,” the clerk went on, “but it’s been over a month since we shipped out any apples.”

  “And why is that?”

  “I don’t know. The US civic support unit is the one controlling the goods.”

  “Anything else?”

  “The bars and clubs downtown are complaining a lot lately.”

  “Why?”

  “They say Americans aren’t coming in anymore.”

  “Is that all?”

  “That’s all for today.”

  The clerk was about to get up to go.

  “Let’s have lunch together.”

  The clerk looked uneasy at the prospect of lingering at the Chrysanthemum Pub.

  “I’ve got a box lunch. I’ll return to the office.”

  “Wait a minute,” Yong Kyu said. “We told you we’d give you three thousand piasters a month, plus an extra five hundred on any day when you bring us good information. Today’s news wasn’t exactly good, but we’ll give you another five hundred today as a token of our good will.”

  “Thank you.”

  The clerk quickly snatched the cash and then left without even looking back. Yong Kyu sliced up the duck.

  “That wasn’t anything special.”

&
nbsp; “Well, I’m not so sure.” His lips pursed and protruding, Toi was deeply absorbed in thought.

  “That fruit, I just can’t get it off my mind. The vegetables are what they normally use to control prices, but this time it’s the opposite. That’s it: they’re trying to gauge the real demand in the market. What are apples?”

  “A fruit greatly enjoyed by the rich and powerful of Da Nang. You don’t die when they’re unavailable.”

  “Right. It’s been over a month since the Vietnamese military officers and government officials tasted apples. If you start slowly releasing them into the market, they’ll sell very well. And when you check the volume of sales, you can estimate how much black money is circulating these days among the upper class of Da Nang. I’m sure there’ll be some choice grade meats, too.”

  “But what do you make of the restriction on passes for the American soldiers?”

  “Probably no military significance. We’ll have to dig around a little more to know, but some sort of change is in the air, don’t you think?”

  Toi was holding up the long Chinese-style chopsticks and tapping the table with their bottoms.

  “When they restrict evening passes for the GIs, there’s bound to be some change on the way.”

  “They did it before the Vietnamese elections.”

  “Right. They may do it when a political change is coming, for instance, when a coup d’état is expected, or when demonstrations heat up. They also might restrict passes before a full-scale offensive. But I don’t think either of those cases applies now,” Toi said rather firmly.

  “Why not?” Yong Kyu asked.

  “The election is over and the new government is in place. Instead, there’ll be a presidential election in America, but not until fall. As for combat operations . . . I don’t think anything like that is on the way right now. The NLF is completely absorbed in reconstructing the combat power and the war material they lost during the Tet Offensive. The Americans are seeking to enter into ceasefire negotiations while maintaining the present breathing spell. Since the battle at Khesanh, neither side has been too eager to mount major operations.”

  “If that’s so,” Yong Kyu said, revealing his own opinion, “what’s left is a basic change in the American operational strategy, or some political change in America.”

  “I don’t know. It’s not inconceivable that the Americans will make some changes in their operations. Well, it’s already been changing, you know. The high command has passed from crazy Westmoreland to stubborn Abrams. And Johnson has announced he won’t run for re-election. But you know, I think the reason for restricting American passes is much simpler and also tentative, based on domestic conditions in Vietnam. Or it may be only a local order limited to areas under the jurisdiction of the US headquarters and the MAC in Danang. As I said before, I don’t see it as a measure of military significance.”

  “Do you think there’ll be any changes in Le Roi market?”

  “Change is already here. NLF money is flowing in, and American forces have been restricted from the city. Wait!”

  Toi dropped onto his plate a chunk of duck he had picked up with his chopsticks.

  “When was it that the Americans changed their commanding general?”

  Tracing time back to the Tet Offensive, Yong Kyu counted on his fingers. Back in those days he had been haunting the PXs, absorbed in feeling the pulse of the trading in luxury goods.

  “Was it the end of March? It’s more than two months ago, almost three months.”

  “The Paris Conference had begun. Sergeant Ahn, I’ll be back in a little while, so you wait here.”

  Toi rubbed his greasy fingers on his fatigue trousers and got up. As he went out, his silver sunglasses reflected the scene of the terminal lot outside the pub.

  “Why leave so suddenly in the middle of a meal?”

  “It won’t take long.”

  After Toi rushed out, Yong Kyu did not feel like eating alone, so he ordered some beer. He quickly drained one can and was about to open another. As always, whenever he pulled the ring on a can it reminded him of his combat duty in the jungle. For a fleeting moment he would imagine he was pulling the safety pin out of a grenade, and that he had to grasp the can with a firm grip and lob it far off over his head, Then he would take some time to calm himself.

  For a long, long time the giggling of a young veteran lingered in his ears, a young veteran showing a picture he was sneaking back home as a souvenir. “The new model grenade is nice. Unlike a fragmentation grenade, it’s smooth as an egg. Playing hens is fun. Push it in with a kick, watch it slip in beautifully. Before the egg can be laid, it’ll explode and fly in all directions.” What would that kid be doing back home now? Yong Kyu wondered. He would have become a civilian by this time and would probably be working himself to death just to make a living. And no doubt he had outlived those who died faceless to him. Would he still recall the game of playing hens? Those few short months in the jungle would be etched in his soul even after he died . . . imprinted indelibly in his heart like some snapshot kept as a memento.

  “It’s sure a fancy lunch.”

  A white cotton shirt loomed in front of Yong Kyu. Above the top button the face of Nguyen Thach was smiling, with tiny wrinkles gathered at the corners of his eyes.

  “Have a seat,” Yong Kyu said, pointing with his chin. “Food for three is too much for me to handle alone . . .”

  Without hesitation Nguyen Thach plopped down across from Yong Kyu. Then he unfastened the upper buttons of his traditional shirt, and pulled over toward him the plate and chopsticks that had been set for the clerk from Puohung Company.

  “Has Mr. Toi got indigestion? Looks like the third member of the party has failed to show up.”

  “Ah, both of them have stomachaches.”

  Nguyen Thach picked up a piece of duck meat, dipped it in a spicy sauce and devoured it with evident relish.

  “That’s a shame, to have missed such a delicious lunch.”

  “Do you see Dr. Tran often?”

  “I thought you knew. The goods are already being supplied. For starters, antibiotics and painkillers. Quinine and various antiseptics will be next.”

  “I suppose they’ll all end up being used in the field.”

  Despite this sarcastic remark from Yong Kyu, Thach kept on smiling. “Among the American goods circulating in Vietnam, is there anything that isn’t for military use?”

  “Yes, a lot.”

  Thach winked at Yong Kyu. “Of course, chocolates, candy, razor blades, everything down to condoms, but it’s the American soldiers under Pentagon command who eat and consume the duty-free products supplied by the various entrepreneurs in America. I no longer wish to argue with Sergeant Ahn. Our relationship is like . . . how shall I put it, like that between teeth and lips. We’re inseparable.”

  “Those are the wrong Chinese characters. How about the relationship between spear and shield?”

  “Anyway, you do not seem to trust me.”

  When Thach finished replying, Yong Kyu dropped the joking tone and said in an icy voice, “I’ve introduced you to Dr. Tran, and you’ve become the only dealer in Le Loi market with access to medical supplies. But you did not keep the promise you made to me.”

  Nguyen Thach put down his chopsticks. “What are you talking about? I certainly did introduce you to a clerk at Puohung Company.”

  “I didn’t mean that,” said Yong Kyu. “You promised you’d give me daily information on the content of dealings by the NLF.”

  Thach, fully composed, nodded and then raised both hands with thumbs extended. “Look. First you introduced me to Dr. Tran, and I introduced one of old man Hien’s clerks to you.”

  Then he lifted up his index fingers. “Next, on the condition that you give me information on the dealings of Puohung Company, I was supposed to furnish you with information on NLF dea
lings, right? You have daily contacts with the clerk, but you have given me no information, and so neither have I. Don’t you think it’s only fair?”

  Yong Kyu looked Nhuyen Thach straight in the eye. “Do you really want to know about the deals of Puohung Company? You seem to have known of their business in great detail for a long time. So Toi and I, we’re now trying to find out the information we need on our own.”

  “Being independent is the first and foremost priority for any merchant, whether you run a big enterprise or a tiny hole-in-the-wall store. You and I had a relationship requiring mutual dependence. Those B-rations you brought out of Turen were a great help for both of us. And now, what exactly is it that you want to know?”

  Thach began chewing duck meat again. Yong Kyu remained silent as he finished up a wing and a breast.

  “Ah, so you no longer trust this Nguyen. Fine. What about this? The NLF have completed their tax collections for the first half of the year, so the black market will see a surge of activity from next month.”

  “That I already know,” Ahn Yong Kyu answered curtly and fell silent again.

  Thach spoke. “I hear you’ve been coming to the truck warehouse at lunchtime and again at night to check the freight vehicles and the smaller transports. I can tell you now that won’t be of much help to you.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Isn’t it obvious? It’s like checking every single household in order to search for guerrillas who’ve infiltrated the city. It leads nowhere.”

  In spite of himself, Yong Kyu lost his temper and blurted out words that had been simmering inside his heart.

  “We’ve uncovered information on most of the NLF’s dealing connections in Da Nang.”

  Nguyen Thach laughed softly.

  You’re being too hasty. You know, most of the merchants in the Vietnamese markets make it their business to deal with the Americans, Vietnamese soldiers, people from third countries, and always with the NLF. That’s fate. In a war like this there’s no other way.”

  Thach gathered his hands together and stared with a serious look at Yong Kyu, then continued. “I liked you from the start. Because, unlike the Americans or the Vietnamese soldiers, you showed no prejudices. When you told me this war was not your responsibility and that you’d soon be heading home, taking off your uniform in a few months, I decided to discard my dislike for foreign soldiers and be fair with you. I did make a promise, but I did not want to see you get into any trouble while you remain here. Here is a little token to show you that I mean to keep the promise I made to you.”