The Shadow of Arms

by Hwang Sok-Yong

  This dictatorship has aroused severe outrage among our people irrespective of class. Even their merciless oppression could not submerge our fellow countrymen in despair. On the contrary, our people are resolutely determined to struggle against the American invasion and the dictatorial rule of their servants. What our people desperately long for now is an end to the merciless dictatorship in power and to win national independence, to secure democracy and to peacefully unify our nation. Grounded in this ardent hope of our fellow countrymen, the National Liberation Front of Vietnam came into being.

  Our pre-modern agricultural nation of thirty million people is wailing aloud, for it has been turned by the invaders into a laboratory in which they test their technologies of death—cluster bombs, dinitrophenol chemical shells, Agent Orange defoliant, chloroacetate phenol tear gas, and many other weapons. The power of America in Vietnam is nothing more than that of a technology of homicide. Just as monopoly capitalism has destroyed all possibilities of paradise remaining within its own society, we cry out loudly and solemnly that in the end it will be defeated by humanity and nature.

  Our race is a remarkable one. We have an ancient tradition of solidarity and invincibility. No matter what may happen, we will not allow our nation to stay submerged in darkness and suffering. We are firmly determined to eradicate the oppression of slavery and to win independence and liberation.

  33

  In the outer room several Americans, Chinese, and Filipinos were quietly drinking, attended by waitresses in red Chinese-style dresses. When Madame Lin had special customers, she usually led them to one of the secluded rooms located through the arched hall and adjacent to the garden. The best of these private rooms had walls of glass. On two facing sides were large aquariums, and palms, banana trees and rosebushes that seemed to press in right through the picture windows making up the other walls.

  This special room had a back door opening onto a terrace from which a path led through a tunnel of wisteria vines. At the far end of that curved tunnel stood Madame Lin’s private residence, a white house with a red-tiled roof in the style of the French Riviera. She kept a half dozen rooms with double beds and private baths prepared at all times for use by her guests. The Da Nang Sports Club was frequented by American officers and civilians, and by foreigners visiting to do trade or working in local branches, but as a rule Vietnamese civilians were not allowed in. Once in a while the customers included high-ranking ARVN officers or Vietnamese government officials, but those were exceptional cases.

  The waiters were all Vietnamese, hired only after a thorough background check. The hostesses, on the other hand, for the most part were Filipinas, Thais, and Chinese who had migrated from their homes to the battle zone. Occasionally a white woman, a dancer or singer, stranded from one of the touring show companies, would work at the Sports Club for a few weeks or months before heading on to Okinawa, Hong Kong, or wherever. These white women inevitably attracted Vietnamese brass and bureaucrats. Directing this traffic of customers and maintaining the female staff was the vital key to such a business, and Madame Lin managed it as skillfully as a veteran casino dealer shuffling cards.

  Oh Hae Jong was in the glass room along with four others, five in all. Present were an American captain named Mike, a finance officer at the US Army Headquarters; Colonel Cao, the Da Nang police superintendent; Frank, chief clerk at the American navy PX; and Beck, an Englishman who was Madame Lin’s husband. Madame Lin herself peeked inside the room every so often and made sure that a steady flow of drinks and food was served to them.

  The group was seated around a glass-topped wicker table, playing poker. Beck, who spoke Chinese fluently, was wearing a fancy ivory-colored suit, a pipe in his mouth, and was betting to the bitter end in every game. Even when he lost, he chuckled and exhibited the equanimity of a good-natured fellow. Frank, the PX clerk, was an excellent poker player. Constantly cracking jokes, he had a way of controlling the pace of wagers, cagily raising, passing, or folding to enlarge or diminish the pot in his favor. The player most seriously absorbed in the game was Colonel Cao, but he lost almost every hand to Frank.

  Mike was sitting beside Hae Jong, sipping whiskey. He often folded early and seldom stuck in a game to the end. In one round Hae Jong, who was out after the draw, gave this captain a tip that led him to win big with a full house. Mike, along with the other finance officers of the division, was a regular patron and long-standing friend of Madame Lin and Mimi.

  “How about some more ice, Mimi?” Mike said, extending his empty glass.

  “Aren’t you overdoing it?” she replied distractedly, staring at her hand. “My luck is changing now.”

  “Let me have a look. Trying for four of a kind?”

  “Hush.”

  “Afraid you won’t make it,” said Frank with a loud laugh. “I’m holding a royal flush here. Now, how many do you want?”

  “I’m out.” Hae Jong folded and poured two shots of whiskey, one for herself and one for Mike.

  “Mike, you cost me a big hand.”

  “Well, even if you play until daybreak tomorrow, you’ll never make even a thousand dollars from these peanut stakes, huh?”

  “Wow, Mike must have a good thing going,” Frank said, then raised his bet.

  “You, you’re winning from Colonel Cao alone,” Mike said. “Colonel, have you decided to let Frank win today?”

  “Well, I better make a habit of humoring Frank here. If he ever locks up that cold storage, that’d be the end of the drinking business in Da Nang, no?” said Colonel Cao, winking.

  “Mimi, whatever happened with your major?” asked Frank.

  “He’s out on an operation in the jungle.”

  “So, your husband is out risking his life on the battlefield while you’re in here enjoying a game of poker?”

  “That’s right.”

  “The reason Madame is playing poker is that it’s hard for her to think of ways to spend the money Major Pham brings home,” Cao said with a cynical air.

  “Making money in the jungle?” said Frank. “Is our government now paying a bounty for every VC head?”

  “The jungle in the Central Highlands is one enormous cinnamon plantation, and General Liam and Major Pham are harvesting.”

  At this remark from Cao, Frank shook his head. “My, my, you must have been excluded from that enterprise.”

  “Unfortunately, yes, I was. After all, the jungle is under military jurisdiction, they tell me.”

  “Pham Quyen is a patriot,” Hae Jong said. “He’s trying to establish an autonomous enterprise for the phoenix hamlets project by using domestic resources that would otherwise be wasted. Colonel, aren’t you involved in that project, too?”

  “Yes, but only in the establishment of the militias.”

  “How are the cigarettes and liquor these days? I guess you still have Coca-Cola coming in from Laos?”

  At these biting comments from Hae Jong, Colonel Cao was reduced to mumbling and Beck jumped in. “Hey now, the mood is getting a little too grim, enough of that. What do you say we take a break from the cards and have a few drinks instead?”

  “Do they make Coca-Cola in Laos?” Mike asked.

  “I saw it in the market. Don’t they pack refined heroin into Coco-Cola cans and ship them down across the border? I thought Colonel Cao was in charge of that.”

  Cao responded to Hae Jong’s icy query without animosity. “Madame, forgive me for making jokes at Major Pham’s expense. He and I are very close friends, like brothers. The Coca-Cola can problem is something we’re trying to get under control, but as it is, the scale is just too big.”

  “If you please, my own feeling is that a dream flower after a bath is much better than alcohol. I was only wondering if I could ask you as a favor to get one of those cans for me.”

  “Now, now, that’s enough, already.” Beck refilled everyone’s glass and held up his own. “
A toast. To peace.”

  Madame Lin came into the room with a waiter in tow. “Ah, it’s already begun. Let me join you.”

  The waiter placed a Chinese-style salad garnished with caviar on the table, then left. When he was gone, Lin asked, “Who won?”

  “Needless to say, Frank, the old pro, wiped the table clean,” said her husband.

  Madame Lin sat down next to Frank, locking her arm around his. “Then you are the hero of the hour. How about a little rendezvous tonight?”

  Frank kissed Madame Lin on the cheek to reward her frivolity.

  “You and Lin, at last you seem to have recognized that I’ve had my mind set on her for ages. Let’s fly to Australia and live there together.”

  “No thanks. But a maiden has just arrived who you can sweep off of her feet and carry away to your sheep ranch.”

  “Sounds like an old stripper, a refugee from one of the show troupes, has dropped in. I don’t care much for the white girls.”

  “On the contrary, she’s a precious ebony pearl. A dark nineteen-year-old from Ceylon.”

  “Shall I have a look at her?” Mike said, and then Cao intervened.

  “What if we decide it by a hand of poker?”

  “I’m not interested in competing with the colonel over a woman,” Frank said sullenly.

  “I’ll buy her,” Mike murmured.

  “Mike, you’re drunk,” Hae Jong said.

  “Madame Mimi is jealous,” remarked Frank, looking over at the two of them.

  Madame Lin pressed the bell and a waiter instantly appeared. “Tell Losa to come in here.”

  A few minutes later, a Sri Lankan dancer entered the room. Instead of the red dress that was the house uniform for hostesses, she was wearing a long dress embroidered in yellow and red over a white silk shift. Her black hair, long and lustrous, was hanging down loose over one shoulder. Her skin was dark, but closer to an ash brown color than to black. She was a striking beauty. Frank gazed at her as if oblivious to the world. Madame Lin got up from her place beside Frank and gestured for the girl to sit down. Holding her hands together in the Buddhist way, the dancer bowed ceremoniously and introduced herself.

  “Unbelievable!” Mike sighed.

  “Unfair, isn’t it?” Colonel Cao murmured.

  “The colonel made a good suggestion earlier, I mean, why not play a hand of poker to decide,” Mike stammered.

  “This is rude. Gentlemen, let’s be sensible,” Madame Lin said.

  “Listen,” Mike went on, “I have an important announcement to make.”

  “Captain, civilians have nothing to do with an ordinance from headquarters,” Frank said with a sneer. “Unlike those ancient Greeks, I don’t make war over a woman.”

  “If you heard what I have to say, you’d probably get right up and walk out that door.”

  “He’s drunk,” Madame Lin said with a frown, and grabbing him under his arms, she pulled him up from his chair. “This won’t do at all. You should go inside to lie down and rest.”

  “Wait, don’t do this to me. Don’t throw me out!”

  Madame Lin propped him up by the arm and signaled with her eyes to Hae Jong. “Help me, will you? And you, Mike, don’t be such a baby.”

  As Madame Lin and Hae Jong led him out, everyone left in the glass room burst into laughter. Even outside on the terrace, Mike kept on mumbling to himself, “The end is coming next week. You’ll all be ruined, I mean it. Even if you beg me on your hands and knees, I won’t do you no favors, I’m telling you.”

  “Shut up,” Madame Lin said.

  The two women led him through the tunnel and into a luxurious suite in the house. They dumped him down on a sofa, and Hae Jong brought him a bottle of soda from the refrigerator.

  “Drink this.”

  “Get a good night’s rest here. Mimi will look after you.”

  “No, I have to get back before dawn. No overnight pass, so can’t stay here.”

  Madame Lin threw Hae Jong a look, and then asked him, “What’s happened?”

  “Something big is on the way. We’re changing the military currency,” Mike mumbled.

  Madame Lin’s faced showed no surprise. “We’ve got to get his shoes off first,” she said to Hae Jong.

  As Hae Jong knelt down and took off his boots, Madame Lin wiped Mike’s forehead with a damp towel. “Did you say you’re changing the currency?” she asked.

  As if shocked to hear it from somebody else’s mouth, Mike suddenly lifted his head and whispered, “That’s top secret.”

  Mike downed the soda in one gulp and then started coughing.

  “When?” Hae Jong asked.

  “We’re asking you when,” Madame Lin impatiently repeated.

  “The announcement’ll be next week,” Mike replied. “We’re still preparing it.”

  “All over the country?”

  “Everywhere there’s an American military base.”

  Madame Lin looked up and then clicked her tongue. “That will get complicated.”

  Around a quarter past nine, a van rolled down Doc Lap Boulevard toward the Grand Hotel. There were two men inside, both wearing grey coveralls of the kind worn by Philco technicians. A small refrigerator crate was in the back. As Doc Lap passes in front of the Grand Hotel there is a left turn onto a quiet driveway, sheltered by trees, that loops behind the hotel, while the busy street veers off the other way. Beyond the curved driveway was the shore, and between it and the beach stood a guardhouse. A patrol boat and a small launch were tethered nearby and the searchlight at the rear of the hotel was brightly lit. On the right side of the hotel, past the spot where Doc Lap turns off to the right, was a green lawn lined with palm trees, leading down toward Da Nang Bay.

  A sidewalk ran from this lawn straight across in front of the hotel, and there were sentry posts on either end of this walkway. Cars entered the hotel’s front parking lot after circling from the rear of the hotel and the exit then passed by the other sentry post at the left corner of the front and then back out to the main street. Two Vietnamese police were on guard duty at that post, which had been fortified with sandbags. The van, after slowly circling around, came up to the sentry post at the entrance to the parking lot. As the policeman stepped forward, the van dimmed its lights and waited with the interior lamps switched on.

  “What’s this?”

  “Sir, we’re making a delivery for the Philco manager on the third floor.”

  The policeman looked inside the van. “Is that a refrigerator?

  “I guess it is.”

  As if he didn’t want to be bothered, the policeman waved them on with his flashlight. The car passed the checkpoint and drove straight by the front door of the hotel and into the parking lot. A guard on duty in the parking lot came over to the van.

  “What is this? Are you Vietnamese?”

  “Yes.”

  “You can’t park here.”

  “We’re not parking. This is a Philco vehicle. We have to make a delivery.”

  “A refrigerator?”

  “That’s right.”

  The guard took a peek inside, and then said in an annoyed voice, “Leave the car here and take it on over.”

  The two men lifted the refrigerator crate and walked around toward the corner leading to the beach guardhouse. The searchlight shone brightly. A barricade had been erected with an iron grating. The freight entrance was at the rear corner of the parking lot, and an elevator had been set up on the outside of the hotel. A hotel clerk waved to them.

  “Leave it over there.” Then he picked up the telephone and asked, “What’s the room number?”

  “It’s for a Philco manager on the third floor.”

  “You don’t know the room number?”

  The two men looked at each other and one said, scratching his head, “Well, how are we supposed to k
now? You know, the gentleman just told us to bring it here, so here we are. He’s now at the company office. He’s an American, you want to check with him on the phone?”

  “Ah, don’t bother. Just leave it there.”

  The two men set the crate down against the wall where other boxes were heaped up. Then they walked slowly back to the parking lot and got into the van. Upon leaving they followed a different route than that by which they had come, and turned right from the looping drive and then into an alley. They made a U-turn and then halted back near the mouth of the walled alley next to a private house. They switched off the headlights but left the engine running. It was late and the neighborhood was still.

  “Time allowed?”

  “Five minutes.”

  The cell leader, seated next to the driver, reached behind the back seat and pulled out a submachine gun. Then he got into the back seat and opened the window on the left side. He put a clip in and readied the gun to fire. He picked up a hand grenade and handed it to the driver.

  “Take this. Roll it on the street later.”

  “And you?”

  “I’ve got three.”

  They closed all the windows. All of a sudden there was an explosion, so loud and heavy that the ground kept shaking for seconds after. There was a flash of light, and shards of glass could be seen flying through the air like tracers.

  “Let’s go!”

  The van sped out and into the hotel driveway. A pillar of flames was rising from the building and they could see off-duty troops pouring out of the hotel’s front entrance. The van rushed around toward the front hotel, firing the submachine gun. The sentries were hit and a hand grenade tossed into the parking lot blew up in a dense cluster of vehicles. Over on the green, tree-lined lawn, three guerrillas were on the ground, shooting toward the entrance. As it drove away, the van let loose more grenades and blew up the sentry box near the exit. Then, its brakes screeched as it stopped to pick up the three team members who had been providing covering fire from the grassy promenade. They all got safely inside and the van sped away down Doc Lap Boulevard then turned over through a back alley to Puohung Street and a little way on stopped behind a row of parked cars. All five of them got out of the car and disappeared into the darkness.