Pool and its Role in Asian Communism

by Colin Cotterill

  The boys thought about it.

  "I would."

  "Me too."

  "And me."

  "Then we need to rethink. You guys been getting much publicity?"

  "It's all over the news. Radio. TV. Here and overseas. It's been huge ever since you died."

  "OK. Then if the Thai soldiers rescue us, you'll be the bad guys. What say you let us go? Before they mess your boy up too bad."

  "But, what about the money?"

  "You could pretend the money wasn't never what you was doing this for. You'd score more points. Make a lot of friends. And you already got money for the interview, right?"

  They yakked about it in Thai. Waldo helped himself to a cup of tea.

  "What happens to our friend after you get back?"

  "Leave it to me. I got an idea."

  See what I mean? Waldo was at his best when he was lining up plans like he was racking up balls. He was a natural organizer. The commy boys let him and Demetria go just as soon as he'd finished his tea. They put 'em in the truck and drove 'em back into town.

  -o-

  "You're a very brave man, Waldo." Waldo blushed. Even in the dark shadows at the back of the car, he could tell his cheeks was purple.

  "No, I ain't."

  "Yes, you are. I understand exactly what you've been doing here."

  "You do?"

  "Course I do."

  "Shoot."

  "I know you must be every bit as concerned as me, but you've been putting on this brave face to protect me. To stop me worrying. I think that's so noble, Waldo."

  They was sitting side by side and he could feel her warm hip against his. She leaned in towards him. "You know what these bastard commies are capable of just as well as I do. We've all heard of the atrocities. And you know that you and I are being driven into the valley of death this very minute."

  "Demetria. We ain't …"

  She put a finger up to his big lips.

  "No. Enough. Waldo, I love what you've done. I admire you. I know my dear husband would've done the same."

  "I "

  "I'm going to kiss you, Waldo."

  "That ain't necessary, De …"

  "Don't say any more. I know." She sobbed a pair of well-spaced sobs. "I know this is the end. I want the last memory I have to be the taste, the warmth, the strength of a man I respect."

  Now, Waldo knew this was kind of the over-sixties version of the, 'What would you do if you knew the end of the world was coming in half an hour?' scenario. He should of told her the truth right then, but for some reason, he kept his trap shut. Well, no that ain't exactly true.

  She threw her mouth at his. It weren't one of them platonic, cheek kisses neither. It was a tonguie. Waldo hadn't had no one else's tongue in his mouth for fifteen years. It felt kinda crowded in there. Thing was, he didn't exactly fight her off. Thing was, he kinda liked it.

  The guys in the front seats witnessed what was going on in the back. It turned their stomachs some. In their culture, old folks didn't do that kinda thing in public. Hell, in their culture even young folks didn't.

  They was rescued from further embarrassment 'cause the dim lights of Mukdahan city limits appeared up ahead and they both shouted,

  "Look at the dim lights of Mukdahan." But whatever was going on in the back seat didn't stop right away.

  -o-

  Demetria believed she was on her way to purgatory right up to the moment they dropped her and Waldo out back of the hotel. The first thing she saw when they took off her blindfold, was a stack of beer crates and she knew they sure as hell wouldn’t be serving no beer in purgatory.

  "Oh, Lord. We're safe." She sank to her knees and thanked each and every department in heaven.

  Waldo said goodbye to the boys and they told him they'd miss him. They give him a souvenir frog on a stick. The stick went up through the frog's rear end and out its mouth. If you spinned it round the frog made croaking noises. Course it was wood, not a real frog. That would'a been cruel.

  -o-

  For a day, Waldo and Demetria was bigger than Nixon and Kissenger. They got interviewed a billion times. There wasn't no explaining how Waldo managed to claw his way back into the world of the living after his gory and well publicized death. A lot of folks kind of admired the kidnappers for being able to fake it without him knowing.

  Waldo come out of it all looking pretty damned good in the world press and the commies didn't do too bad either. It was only in Thailand they suffered. One paper even said Waldo was interfered with, but I bet that would'a pushed the reader's imagination just too far.

  -o-

  Waldo still had one lose end to tie up. Sisamon called him in to identify the captured commie. He was already pretty beat up. Demetria only ever saw the kidnappers in masks so Waldo was the only eyewitness.

  Agent Sisamon made the mistake of inviting a gallery of press to come and view the identification. He had one of them photo opportunities in mind where Waldo's standing pointing at the bad guy and Sisamon looks all modest and handsome in the background. That's what he had in mind.

  But naturally, Waldo said he hadn't never seen the kid before. Sisamon's insides dropped.

  "But you can't be sure."

  "Yeah, I'm sure."

  "Take another look."

  "Son, I could look at him till my eyes drop out but it still wouldn't turn him into a kidnapper."

  "Maybe you didn't see all of them."

  "Oh, I saw 'em all right. I et with 'em. I played cards with 'em. I sang patriotic songs with 'em. Just to save my life, mind. Less he went out and got a new face, this ain't one of the guys that kidnapped me. I may be dumb but I ain't blind."

  Now you probably realize, that was a hell of a big deal for Waldo. He hadn't never lied before. Not deliberate. He shifted across to his left cause he figured if the Lord was gonna strike him down, he didn't wanna give Him a sitting target. But there weren't no bolt from the blue and to tell the truth, he kinda liked the feeling that come with a bare-faced lie. He figured he might even try it again sometime.

  All the press guys in the room suddenly had another story for tomorrow's front page. They took pictures of the bruises all over the guy and made sure they got Sisamon's name right. They even got close-ups of him with what looked like tears in his eyes. It was touching really.

  The cops didn't have no choice but to let the non-kidnapper go. He kindly refused to make a complaint against 'em. In fact he just wanted to get his ass out of there. There was a look between him and Waldo when he walked out the door of the police station. No one else saw it, but Waldo knew he'd just saved a life. He wondered, up in the Lord's account book, if it made up for the life he'd took. Soul math.

  And you're probably wondering about what happened in the hotel that night between Waldo and Demetria. And I guess you're gonna have to keep on wondering, cause I sure ain't gonna write about that kinda thing.

  62

  Wilbur hadn't slept in a bed for a week. He was aching real bad, but he had a lot of fence-mending to do. His Hmong fighters was mighty disappointed. They'd been expecting a big push from the south for quite some time.

  There was this movie you might of seen. It was about what was left of a British army unit in Africa. They knew one more Zulu attack and they was buzzard food. Just then they hear the sound of reinforcements coming round the mountain. The bugle's sounding the charge. They're so relieved they eat up the last of their rations, and they're so happy they fire the last of their ammunition up in the air. And round the corner comes the bugler - only the bugler.

  That's how the Hmong felt when their reinforcements give up and went on home. It was Wilbur's job to convince 'em it weren't the end of the world, even though, deep down, he believed it was. He could see the edge.

  So when he got back to Savannakhet, he felt lower than he'd been since he started his second tour. There weren't no other yanks around cause the Air America guys was told to lay low for a while. Local people looked at him different around town. He thought
they was maybe seeing him human for the first time.

  Even the RLA that was living off the food he put on their plates seemed to be wondering whether they was on the right side. He didn't know what to say to the RLA command 'cause he didn't yet know what excuse his fart-ass government was going to make for screwing up an unlawful invasion. He had to wait for an announcement.

  So, as he couldn't do nothing about the big picture, he decided he should work on a little one; something he could do right. With his two best Hmong pals and a bottle of Bourbon, he drove on down to the boarded-up office of the ex-mayor. They blasted open all the cabinets with a quiet jelly and loaded the files into the 4WD. They replaced 'em with PL propaganda leaflets just for effect, and stood back till the flames took hold. Unseen, they rung the town bell to warn people there was a fire, and when they was sure all the neighbors was out of bed and safe, they left.

  By the time they'd put out the fire, the old wood office was a heap of ash and the fire had been so hot, even the metal cabinets was molten.

  That night, the old couple in the auberge was woke up by the rattling of the gate and the griping of the dogs. They come out to find out what all the fuss was about, and on the front stoop they found three piles of official and unofficial Savannakhet documents.

  They didn't read 'em all that night, but they saw enough to know what they had their hands on. It suddenly weren't no surprise they'd shut down the provincial prison. All the criminals was running the town.

  Over the next month, the files went by truck to the Ho Chi Mihn Trail, and from there by donkey and bicycle to the north. When they arrived at Vien Xai, a team of PL clerical ladies went through 'em and started the paperwork for criminal proceedings against most of the Savannakhet administration for when they took over.

  But Wilbur weren't of a mind to wait that long. And he weren't convinced the ex-mayor was gonna sit around and wait for the PL to come gunnin' for him. So he planned a little ceremony in advance. He had three kids of his own. Two of 'em was girls. Every time he thought about the trading going on through Savannakhet, he recalled his girls at the same age and his blood boiled.

  Captain mayor was alone in the mess tent slurping on a bowl of beans. The chubby little fella looked up and saw Wilbur come in through the mesh door. He slowly pushed his plate away from him, stood without no, what you'd call 'enthusiasm', and give a sloppy salute. Them was the rules.

  "Sit down, captain." The captain sat. "Now, let's see that again."

  "See what?" He didn't bother with a 'sir'.

  "Let's see you stand to attention and salute, politely." The captain laughed and took up his spoon again. These American 'advisors' got a bit too big for their boots sometimes. He might of been a soldier somewhere back along the trail, but here he weren't diddly-squat. Now he even wished he hadn't saluted the first time.

  When the beans was just about to leave the spoon and slide down his gullet, he heard a click. He turned his head to see Wilbur with his service revolver in his hand with the barrel pointed directly at his beans. He was about to laugh again till Wilbur shot that goddamned bean bowl and made a hell of a mess of the captain's uniform.

  Being as he was from 'stores' and hadn't been shot at before, the captain thought the bean sauce was blood. It was as close to death as he'd ever gotten and he fell into some kinda shock.

  "Now, I said I'd like you to stand at attention and salute, politely."

  When the MPs and a couple of cooks come running in, they found the captain bolt upright saluting stiff as a train signal. Wilbur had his gun back in it's holster and he was just standing there. One of the guards asked him what happened.

  "Must of been the beans," Wilbur told 'em. "The plate was mined. It just exploded. Ain't that right, captain?"

  Captain mayor nodded and when Wilbur beckoned him to follow, he went along like a baby duck. "You, men. I want all the other plates checked. This shouldn't have happened. You understand me?"

  "Yes, sir."

  Him and the captain walked out to Wilbur's 4WD, and drove off. The soldiers started going through the stack of tin plates real careful. They hadn't never seen mined bean plates before. Them communists. They was as sneaky as you could get.

  The 4WD drove out the gate without stopping, and off down the lane. Wilbur noticed there was tears in the captains eyes.

  "Now, quit that. It riles me to see a man in uniform cry."

  "You … you aren't going to kill me?

  "Oh, I'm gonna do much worse than that."

  Old captain mayor balled his eyes out at that. He really was a damn wimp when you got down to it. He was begging and pleading and sobbing so bad, Wilbur had to take his gun out again. He fired out the window but the captain could feel the bullet whoosh past his nose. That sure as hell shut him up.

  Once Wilbur'd got his attention, he started to tell him all about the rednecks back home and all the stuff they did to old guys that messed around with little girls. He made it real graphic; didn’t leave nothing out. And unfortunately for the captain, his English was so good he understood every darn word.

  When he couldn't take no more, he stuck his head out the window and threw up. Most of it decorated the side of Wilbur's car and that really got him pissed. When you're trying to stop a guy from castrating you, the last thing you wanna do is throw up over his 4WD. Wilbur slammed on the brakes and got him to clean it up - with his uniform - then put it back on.

  They drove northeast on an unpaved road they wasn't supposed to be on. After about ten miles, they come to a clearing. Wilbur stopped. Way up ahead there was a bridge. After the crossing the road got narrow and there was tight brush crowding in on it from both sides. The track seemed to veer round to the right then disappear behind the vegetation. This was the spot Waldo had told him about.

  "Stay there." The captain sat quaking and stinking. Keeping the bullet-proof truck between himself and the far side of the clearing, Wilbur went to the rear of the car and took out a sniper rifle he used for hunting. He come alongside captain mayor's door and opened it.

  "You see this? I got four gold medals for shooting one of these. You know what that means? That means I could shoot a bean off a button from four hundred yards."

  The captain trembled and looked down at his tunic. Wilbur went on, "I'm gonna give you a chance you don't deserve. It's kind of like sport, you see? You ever run before in your life?"

  "Y ..yes." But it was clear from the shape of him, that must of been a hell of a long time ago.

  "OK. You're gonna run. You're gonna run along this road. Acr…" The reflection of a rifle sight glinted for a second from across the clearing so Wilbur knew they was being watched. "Across that little bridge and along the track. I don't think it would be a good idea to run off the road and into the bushes because this is one of the heaviest mined roads in the province.

  You're gonna run, and your goal is to get to that bend in the road up ahead before I shoot you. If you run straight I've got a better chance. So you have to zig and zag all the way so it ain't easy for me. You know what I'm saying?"

  The captain mayor was sweating like a dog and smelling even worse. "All right. Get going. I won't shoot till you're over that bridge. You can't say I'm not a fair man, now can you?"

  The captain got out of the car and jogged towards the bridge slower than most people walk. Halfway across, he stopped to look back and saw Wilbur with the rifle to his shoulder ready to shoot. So he kept on jogging like some wingless old chicken in boots. And he zigged and he zagged and the first bullet whistled just over his head, and his speed somehow doubled till he was kicking up clouds of dust from the clay road. And he didn't dare look back once a second shot clipped his ear.

  The bend in the road was up ahead and he tensed waiting for a third shot. He knew once he was around that there bend, and if his heart didn't give out, he was gonna make it. That third shot didn't never come. He stuck close to the inside of the bend and ran and ran till he was sure he was outa sight.

  And there was hope. U
p ahead round that bend, there was a barricade, and through the salty sweat that was stinging his eyes, he could see that there was men in uniform.

  But them men in uniform was just boys fresh from PL orientation. They hadn't seen a lot of action. The only enemy they'd encountered in their week at the barricade was an American in a yella Citroen. They'd thought about that a lot since they let him go. They decided they should of arrested the guy and let the commander sort it out. They sure would next time it happened.

  Captain mayor could see the soldiers up ahead but they was blurry seeing as he was just about to pass out. They was pointing their guns at him, so he waved his arms over his head and shouted that he was unarmed, and a captain in the Royal Lao Army. He knew he was saved, but he fainted anyway.

  63

  "You didn't tell me your father was kidnapped."

  Saifon got a sick feeling in her chest. She'd been crying like a baby all frigging night again. Her pillow was so wet she nearly drowned. She couldn't stop thinking about the kindness the old guy had showed her. All the love. She remembered his simple common sense and his smile that made her feel warm and safe. She remembered his joy at every day things that made her notice stuff, too. It didn't seem fair that he was dead.

  "I couldn't."

  "Why on earth not? I could have helped."

  "Helped what, Mrs. Porn? Raise the dead?"

  "Don't be so morbid."

  "It ain't called 'morbid' if it's real death."

  "Real death? Are you mad?"

  "He's dead. Waldo's dead, Mrs. Porn."

  "Don't be ridiculous."

  Saifon was getting irritated with the old girl.

  "I seen the body, ain't I?"

  "Really?" She laughed and it made Saifon mad as hell.

  "Yeah. Really. In the goddam newspaper."

  "I must admit I don't believe I saw that particular newspaper. We don't get them delivered every day. But I did see today's. And I assume you didn't." She called the maid and told her to bring the paper. She come running in with it like it was alive.