by CW Ullman
Cin listened to the men and said he would think about it. He needed a few days to consider the idea and talk with My Ling. Cin and My Ling took a walk in the meadow behind the orphanage carrying Little My Ling with Elvis in tow.
“We won’t have Elvis, we won’t have these mountains, we won’t have the orphanage, and we won’t have this country,” Cin mused.
My Ling countered, “We won’t have to hide, we won’t have to run, we won’t have to be afraid, and we won’t have to fight half the planet.”
They strolled on, not talking, but she sensed he was ready to leave Vietnam. She had been watching him the last year and a half and felt he was tortured living here. He was becoming increasingly irritated with life. The country pulled on him to be a warrior, yet he now had a family. He wanted to right the wrongs toward his people and strike fear in the hearts of the oppressors, but he also understood he would die doing it. What would his death accomplish? He realized his status and what his name signified; he would be a folk hero and tales would be told of things he did and did not do. But he was already a folk hero and what had it achieved?
All of his thoughts fell silent when he held his daughter. She stole his heart every time he cradled her. She lay on his shoulder calmly and turned her face outward so she could look at the world from this safe perch. What brought him the most joy was when she would turn her face to push into the crook of his neck; something she only did with him. Nothing affected him as deeply as his little Tiger Cub. All the debate was quelled because he could not live without her and he did not want her to live without him. My Ling observed their bond and loved how it brought out the tender side of Cin. As much as Cin and My Ling loved each other, Little My Ling completed him. She was his purpose for living.
They talked more about going to America that evening. He told her one of the things he admired about America was its love of competition. Cin believed a nation based on competition, in sports, business and invention was a nation where the best eventually rose to the top.
The next morning he met with his men and announced he and his family would join them on their journey to America. He told My Ling he was going down the hill to get some supplies and would be back in a few hours. After he left, My Ling, with a heavy heart, told Tuyen they were leaving the next day and once they settled in America she would send for Dao, Di.u, and Huyen to join them. She could hardly speak through her tears. My Ling would have given up on life had she not found sanctuary in the Lotus Blossom, following the disclosure of her parent’s death. If it were not for Tuyen Mam, she would not have had the strength to carry on. Tuyen advised My Ling that the most difficult part, informing the girls was ahead.
My Ling went to the girls’ hut and found Dao with her arm around a crying Di.u.
“How did you find out?” My Ling asked.
Dao did not understand the question and stated, “Huyen ran away last night.”
“Where did she go?” My Ling asked frantically.
“I don’t know,” Dao offered.
“What happened?” My Ling inquired.
“She was upset. I’m not sure about what,” Dao was distraught. “You know Huyen.”
My Ling went back to Tuyen to inform her of Huyen’s departure. Tuyen exhaled, dropped her head exasperated, “That girl... We’ll look for her in a bit.”
Dao and Di.u had followed My Ling into Tuyen’s hut. Tuyen said, “I’ll get some girls together to look around here; maybe she’s just hiding. I’ll leave you three alone.”
My Ling sat Dao and Di.u down and spoke, “I am going to America with Colonel Cin and when we get settled there we are going to have you come join us.”
Dao sat expressionless and Di.u grabbed My Ling’s arm and held onto it. Neither one of them cried.
“Are you sad,” Di.u asked of My Ling.
“Yes, I’m sad to leave you two. You are my little sisters,” My Ling replied.
“I mean are you sad you have to go to America and leave Lotus Blossom,” Di.u meekly asked.
My Ling hugged her and smiled, “I am going to miss Lotus Blossom and getting used to another country will be difficult.”
Di.u continued, “Do we have to go to America?”
A bit confused, she replied, “Well, I thought you would want to go. America has a lot of Vietnamese people living there. It will be an adventure.”
“Are you taking Elvis?” Dao asked.
“No, I think Elvis will stay here,” My Ling answered.
“Who else is going?” Di.u inquired.
“Well, it will be me, Colonel Cin, My Ling, Trieu, and Tu,” she counted.
“Is Tuyen Mam going?” Di.u wondered.
“No, she will never leave Lotus Blossom,” My Ling affirmed.
“I don’t want you to get mad at me, but I really like Tuyen,” Di.u said hesitantly.
My Ling sat up, looked at both girls, and wondered if she understood what she was hearing.
“Do you want to stay here? Stay with Tuyen?” She asked.
They both nodded. Once My Ling got over her shock, she relaxed and realized the girls thought of the Lotus Blossom as home. They had spent the last six years here and knew the environs, the routine, Tuyen, and the rest of the girls. The Lotus Blossom was their haven, their home.
“And you’re all right with Huyen…and her…” She did not know how to characterize all of her quirks and foibles.
They both nodded.
Their reaction was bittersweet for My Ling. She felt it would be easier to make new life in America with just her immediate family, but she would miss the sisters with whom she had grown so close. While she was digesting all this, Dao spoke.
“Should we look for Huyen, now,” Dao timidly asked.
“Yes, yes, go. I’ll join you in a minute,” My Ling said. The girls hugged her and ran outside. She realized that the girls were home and that My Ling had found her family with Cin, Little My Ling, her sister, and nephew. She imagined they felt she had distanced herself from them for a while, especially when she traveled to Ho Chi Minh City. They must have thought that My Ling’s search for her family and her independence meant they needed to become more dependent upon themselves, and Tuyen. As she got used to the idea, she felt better about it. Now her immediate concern was to find Huyen.
My Ling found the grounds empty when she went outside. All the orphanage girls and Cin’s comrades had scattered to look for Huyen. My Ling wanted to go down to the meadow to meet Cin when he returned from the town. As she stepped into the flat area, she saw banteng in the tall grass and looked across to see Cin come over the rise.
He was carrying a large canvas bag and stopped when he saw My Ling holding little My Ling. Off to his side he saw Huyen standing on the meadow’s edge. He pointed at her and waved at My Ling so she would see Huyen. My Ling looked at Huyen, who had a smile on her face. At first My Ling thought she was happy to be found and had gotten over whatever slight that had incited her to run off. My Ling took a few steps while she watched Huyen and the banteng in the tall grass. She wanted to ask Huyen where she had gone, then a chill came over her. Huyen did not have a smile of joy, but a grin that she had seen on Huyen’s face only once before. It was the same grin My Ling witnessed at Pok’s compound when My Ling waited for Huyen to bring Dao and Di.u so they could make their escape in the boat.
Cin stopped to redo the gunny sack on his back and walked toward My Ling. He did not know about Huyen’s disappearance. Cin looked across the field at My Ling wearing her non la, carrying little My Ling in a sling, and for a frozen moment in time thought he was gazing at a painting of a mother and child, drenched in the mid-morning sun, framed by the meadow, the trees, and the tall grass. He stopped because he also sensed something. Whatever it was pressed in on his chest and made the hair on his neck stand up. Then he heard the sound of a metal click, a sound with which he was quite familiar. He and his men had made the same sound many times. It was the sound of a gun safety switch. The first click was quickly followed by two others and th
e sound was only feet from him.
The banteng My Ling thought she saw in the tall grass were actually bounty hunters tipped off by Huyen. They had come to bag the most prized catch in all of Vietnam. Cin stopped, held his breath, and knew he had walked into the middle of an ambush, the kind he had executed for years. He knew there were two on one side and one on his other side, and he knew it was too late to do anything. He stared at My Ling and his child and whispered so only he could hear, “I’m sorry, Tiger Girl.”
They opened fire on Colonel Cin striking him four times in the arms and legs. As he was collapsing to the ground, a second volley tore into his torso. From the other side of the meadow, tearing through the grass was a yellow blur. Elvis had run over one gunman, clawing the shooter’s throat open. The other two shooters got off four rounds into Elvis, just as Cin’s men came out of the jungle and shot them both dead. Cin’s men sprinted the hundred yards to Cin as My Ling charged over the two hundred yards that separated her from her man.
She watched as Elvis stood, wobbling on his four legs, one of which had taken a round. He staggered over to the colonel lying on the ground. Elvis, the first to reach Cin, stood over the colonel, with Cin directly under his belly, protecting him from any further shots. When Cin’s men got there, Elvis would not let them near his wounded friend. They tried to talk to him but he roared at them as blood ran down his legs and torso. Elvis coughed up blood from a punctured lung, but held his ground guarding his fallen comrade. My Ling came through the brush and stopped feet from the worst sight she could imagine. Cin was bleeding into the matted grass and Elvis’s legs trembled to keep him upright. My Ling crying, tried to call Elvis, but could not get out the words. One of Cin’s men raised a weapon to put the tiger down so they could get to their colonel, but My Ling yelled for them to stop.
She leaned from the waist and whispered to Elvis, “Come here, boy.”
My Ling could hear the labored breathing from her constant companion of the last six years as his head was beginning to droop. He came to My Ling and she reached out and touched his muzzle. As he had done since he was a cub, he rolled his head down so she could rub between his ears. When finally the struggle to stand became too much, he exhaled loudly and collapsed to the ground. My Ling’s hand remained poised in the air over her deceased Elvis, and then her eyes drifted to her stricken husband.
The men encircled Cin whose half-opened eyes fixed on My Ling as she knelt next to him, fighting her tears.
“We’ll take you to the house,” motioning to the men to pick him up.
He waved them off and he beckoned for My Ling to come nearer.
“Let me kiss little My Ling,” he whispered, barely audible.
Her hands shook as she held the baby girl so he could see her, and then she brought My Ling to his lips so he could kiss the child’s cheek. After he reached up and touched his child’s beloved mother, his hand fell to the ground with his final breath.
Stunned and trembling, unable to absorb what just happened, My Ling, full-throated, wailed with pain. On her knees next to her Cin, she rocked back and forth holding My Ling to her chest. She cried and did not want to open her eyes. Her daughter was crying and My Ling wanted to soothe her, but could not find the strength. She called for Cin to come back and screamed to let out the pain. She cried so loudly that Tuyen and the children came to the meadow to see what was wrong. They slowly approached the group, and when they saw the colonel and Elvis, they knelt, surrounding them.
Tuyen had known Cin for years and thought he had been touched by the gods because he was so lucky in war. She believed he would live to an old age and father many children. It was he who interceded with the Americans when the orphanage desperately needed help. He was never too proud to ask the local villagers if they could spare something for the orphanage. To her, Cin was a saint.
The children grieved the loss of Colonel Cin. They saw him infrequently, but appreciated what he brought them. They viewed him as Tuyen Mam’s brother, My Ling’s boyfriend, and the silly uncle who liked to play with them.
But it was the loss of Elvis, their enchanted cat and their dearest friend that broke their hearts. He was there every day and night and was the compassionate pet who would listen to their frustrations and problems. Elvis had grown accustomed to the sound of the girls’ voices and though he had no idea what they were saying, he liked the feeling their voices made in his ears.
Into this circle of grief came Elvis’s oldest four-legged friend, Long. She walked around and sniffed the wounds on his torso. She went around to his face and licked at his whiskers to make him get up. She sat on her haunches and twisted her head, confused that Elvis would not stand. Eventually, she realized something was gone, even though the big cat was still here. Long, who had tormented Elvis as a cub, who growled at him when he annoyed her, and ate his food when he was younger, began to whimper in Elvis’s ear. This had always roused him from any sleep, so Long waited for him to respond. But the tiger remained still. One of the children brought Long to her lap and stroked the dog’s back to soothe her, but Long wiggled out of the child’s grasp, and returned to Elvis so she could be enveloped in the tiger’s scent.
This group of mourners did not leave the fallen two for hours. As the sun lowered in the sky, it fell to Tuyen to organize the men to carry Colonel Cin up to the mission and move Elvis to a proper site to be buried. After they lifted Cin and carted the cat to his final resting place, they burned the bodies of the bounty hunters on a pyre of dried grass, bamboo, and banteng dung.
One of Cin’s men said that there would be a few of the colonel’s men still in country that would want to pay their respects, and asked if his burial could wait two days so those men could attend. They took Cin to a nearby cave, while Tuyen contacted an undertaker to prepare the colonel for burial.
<>
After traveling all night, a few men showed up at the orphanage the next day. They went down to the cave and held vigil until his burial. As they were waiting, a few local Montagnards had heard about Cin’s passing and wanted to pay their respects. They were the first.
Over the next two days people came. They arrived on foot, by rickety vans, and small cars. They came two or more on scooters. On the second day buses, filled with mourners appeared, while a slow stream of people descended out of the mountains. Many came through the jungles, while others took the roads. Entire villages of people made the trek to honor Colonel Cin. They had heard the stories of his exploits and knew he fought for them. He was a warrior, a champion, and now a martyr, and they wanted to pay homage to Colonel Cin, their royalty.
There had been a few hundred from the local village that stayed in the meadow on the night Cin was killed. By the next morning there was five thousand, and by the middle of the second day, there was over a seventy-five thousand people.
Most of the people were not Montagnard, but Asian Vietnamese. Stories of his daring, and his feats had grown in lore, and his legend appealed to a country in desperate need of heroes. Within the throng were veterans of the Vietnam War who fought under Cin’s command. Those military units were largely decimated in the postwar purges executed by the north, but the few still living made the pilgrimage to give their final salute.
Tuyen Mam marveled at the mass of humanity and My Ling became aware of the magnitude of the man she loved. She walked into the crowd to thank them for coming and was surprised to find they knew of her as well. Her story had become part of Colonel Cin’s mystique: that he had fathered a child with a mysterious woman named Tiger Girl. As she moved about the throng, some fell to their knees and others just wanted to touch her. She could hear the gasps and whispers from the crowd as she walked further into the people. Then she distinguished the words, “It’s the Tiger Girl.”
Her discomfort with the attention and adoration was balanced against her desire to thank these people honoring Colonel Cin. She wished Cin could be here to receive their appreciation and to know what he had meant to so many. By habit she dropped her hand dow
n to pet Elvis, but then remembered he was gone. Trieu and Tuyen Mam walked behind My Ling, astonished by the multitude of small offerings and the crowd’s reaction to seeing Colonel Cin’s widow and child. It would have been suffocating for My Ling, but the assembly parted, making room for her wherever she walked.
Perhaps the most profound encounter occurred when she reached the edge of the crowd where stood a group of older men. When she approached them, they took off their hats and whispered who they were, veterans of the 320A Peoples’ Army of Vietnam, the former North Vietnamese Army. They quit the military because they could not support the brutal purges that had beset the South after the fall of Saigon. Each of them had been in a skirmish against Colonel Cin prior to the end of the war.
The oldest of them expressed with somber deference, “He was the most honorable adversary. The respect we had for his command was second to none. We came down from Hanoi because we hold him in the highest regard and want to pay our respect.”
What touched My Ling the most, was when the soldier finished speaking, he stood straight, then snapped a command. Once the other men came to attention, he called out, “Order arms.” They all brought their hands above their eyebrows and saluted My Ling. Her eyes filled with tears as she watched them. Just as she realized she did not know what to do, Trieu, who had watched her father return salutes, leaned toward My Ling and whispered, “Salute them back.”
She returned their salute and said, “He would have been honored to have you here.”
My Ling was overwhelmed by the scope of the teaming mass of humanity. They were rich and poor, young and old, ethnically diverse, friends, and old enemies. While these people were here to honor and praise Cin, their hero and champion, only a few knew him as a tease, jokester, and scamp, and only one knew him as a lover and romantic. It was difficult to reconcile the person who loved to pull pranks and deliver the unexpected pun, with the warrior who inspired awe and led many of his people to safety in Thailand. Cin had the ability to strategize and execute military attacks with precision, seldom losing a man in battle. He was a charismatic figure who had inspired his troops to fight against significantly larger forces, a ruthless warrior when need be, but also a docile lamb when his daughter lay her head on his shoulder.
