Saigon: A Novel Part 20

9.

Lieutenant David Hawke watched intently through one of the side windows of the little single-engined "gra.s.shopper" as eight other OSS men tumbled from the open door of the C-46 transport up ahead and plummeted down towards the terraced mountainside rice fields of Tongking seventy-five miles northwest of Hanoi. He held his breath until all their chutes had opened, then turned to peer out through the winds.h.i.+eld over the pilot's shoulder as the L-5 went into a banked turn. Ahead lay another stretch of jagged karst hills and valleys smothered with jungle, and he scrutinized the wild landscape anxiously for signs of a level clearing.

"They told me when they lured me into this outfit, captain, that they wanted guys who were 'calculatingly reckless,'" he said, turning to grin wryly at Joseph Sherman. "But if you want my view, I think there's too much recklessness involved here and not enough calculation. Unless I see it with my own eyes I won't believe this flying matchbox can actually get down there in one G.o.dd.a.m.ned piece and take off again."

Joseph smiled as he watched the crates of bazookas, machine guns, carbines and grenades launchers tumble earthwards from the door of a second C-46 behind them, "Don't worry, Dave, any man in the Fourteenth could stroll in and out of here with his eyes closed."

The young American pilot at the controls grinned at the compliment as he eased the little plane towards the treetops, searching intently ahead for the first sight of the unmarked clearing hacked out of the jungle by the Viet Minh guerrillas. It was the Last day of July 1945, and behind them the sun was already touching the western peaks of the mountains; somewhere in the dense rain forest below was the new secret headquarters of the Viet Minh League, the target of a ten-man OSS Special Operations team which Joseph was leading. Code-named the "Deer Mission," its task was to train and arm the Viet Minh for sabotage attacks against roads and railways linking Hanoi with j.a.panese bases in southern China. Since March the Allies had gradually forced the Imperial Army onto the defensive, but it had so far shown no signs of collapsing as. .h.i.tler's forces had finally done in Europe in early May. Consequently a long, hard Allied fight to subdue j.a.pan was still in prospect, and a top-level order had gone out from the White House to "help anybody who will help us shoot at the j.a.panese."

Unexpectedly a little natural clearing that had been enlarged to a length of a hundred and fifty yards, opened up below the plane, and Lieutenant Hawke let out an exclamation of disbelief when he spotted a little group of guerrillas gathered at one end. "It's not much bigger than a G.o.dd.a.m.ned football field," he gasped as the pilot waggled his wings and began turning to make a final approach. "I think I'd rather jump, captain - is there a chute on board?" The boyish features of the twenty-three-year-old Bostonian law graduate were flushed with excitement, and his easy grin belied his exaggerated expressions of alarm. He had completed a crash course in Annamese at the University of California only six months before and had been recruited into the OSS as an interpreter while still at Berkeley. "Did you spot 'Lucius' among the welcoming party, captain?" he asked, turning eagerly to Joseph again. "I'm sure looking forward to clapping eyes on him."

"I didn't see him. The last radio message said he's down with fever again. He drives himself hard and his health is poor."

"He's a real Chinese puzzle, that old guy, isn't he? Every American who's dropped in to work with him in the last few months raves about his 'gentleness' and his 'sweet nature.' But there wasn't anything gentle about the way he closed off Tongking to the Free French agents, was there? Marching the one Frenchman we sent in back to the border and threatening to snipe at any others who came in or starve them out didn't seem like the actions of a gentle old guy to me."

"The Annamese have good reason to hate the French, David," said Joseph quietly. "I don't think you'll find it too hard to sympathize with them when you've talked to Lucius' and some of the others."

As the L-5 pa.s.sed over the treetops at the edge of the clearing, the pilot let it drop like an elevator, and it touched down and humped to a standstill with twenty yards to spare. When Joseph climbed out, he recognized instantly the dapper little Annamese with the shock of dark hair who stepped smartly forward to greet him at the head of the small welcoming party of guerrillas.

"We're glad to welcome you back again, Captain Sherman," said Vo Nguyen Giap, speaking French, and smiling as he extended his hand. "1 trust you've recovered from your injuries."

"I'm fine now, thank you, 'Monsieur Van,' replied Joseph using Giap's OSS code-name. "My leg's still a little stiff, but it's nice to be back with you standing on my own two feet. How's everything here?"

"All the Americans who parachuted in have landed safely. My men have gone down the valley to help them collect the supplies and guide them back to camp."

"And how is Monsieur Ho?"

Giap's face clouded with concern. "He's gravely ill, captain. Walking to and from Ching Hsi in the rains has badly sapped his strength. Have you brought a doctor with you?"

Joseph shook his head. "No but one of the men who jumped in is a medical orderly and he's carrying drugs and medicines with him."

"Perhaps he could make an examination the moment he arrives," replied the Annamese, then turned and led the way quickly Out of the clearing along a narrow jungle trail.

The guerrilla encampment, a huddle of crude stilted huts thatched with palm leaves, had been set up on the side of a hill in a dense bamboo forest close to the Kim Lung gorge, and as soon as the OSS parachutists arrived, Giap showed Joseph and the young medical orderly into one of them. They found Ho lying in a corner, trembling violently; he had become very thin, his skin had turned a sickly yellow color and he was moaning and crying aloud in a semiconscious state of delirium, obviously incapable of recognizing anyone.

"I spent all last night with him," whispered Giap to Joseph as the young OSS medic bent to examine the Annamese. "In between his comas he spoke with great urgency of what the Viet Minh League still must do. Every time he thought of something, he urged me not to forget it. I'm afraid that he believed they were his dying thoughts."

They watched grim-faced as the medic completed his examination. When he stood up his face was resigned.

"What's wrong with him, private?" asked Joseph tersely.

"Malaria and dysentery for sure. But he's probably suffering from half the tropical diseases in the book, I guess it's just a matter of time."

"Can't you do anything for him?"

"I can give him quinine and sulfur if he'll hold still long enough -but I don't promise any miracles."

"Okay," snapped Joseph, staring down at the skeletal figure. "Go ahead."

When the medic had prepared the syringe he knelt to inject the drugs into Ho's scrawny upper arm, but the Annamese suddenly began to struggle violently and the needle of the syringe snapped.

"Let me do it!" commanded Joseph impatiently, dropping to his knees. "Prepare a new syringe."

Taking the struggling Annamese by the shoulders, he leaned close to him. "Please listen carefully. I'm Joseph Sherman. I've brought American medicine from Kunming. You're not going to die." He spoke slowly in English, enunciating his words with great precision and keeping his own face in the center of the dying man's vision. "Please let me help you."

Almost immediately the rolling eyes grew still, and the Annamese ceased to writhe on the mat. Joseph signaled for the new syringe to be placed in his open hand, and he injected its contents into Ho's biceps at a spot indicated by the medic. For a minute or two he continued to kneel by the mat holding the clammy hands that gripped his own convulsively, then when they went limp, lie stood up.

"Stay with him right through the night," he told the medic. "I'll look in from time to time."

Outside the hut Giap searched Joseph's face with anxious eyes. "Do you think there's any possibility he'll recover, Captain Sherman?"

"We can only hope and pray he'll respond to the drugs," said Joseph. "But my medic thinks you must be prepared for the worst."

All around them the Annamese guerrillas were dragging into camp the heavy crates of armaments and explosives that had been scattered across the rice paddies in the wake of the OSS parachutists, and Giap excused himself to give orders for storing the weapons. One of his lieutenants showed the OSS men to a separate group of new bamboo-floored huts in front of which a fire had already been lit, and after was.h.i.+ng in a fast-flowing stream nearby, Joseph returned to his hut to find the appetizing smell of roasting meat wafting across the darkened clearing.

"We slaughtered a cow in honor of your arrival, Captain Sherman," said a friendly voice, speaking French, and Joseph looked up to find an Annamese standing in the doorway. "We thought our newly arrived American comrades-in-arms should enjoy their favorite dish - steak on their first night with us."

Joseph stared at the face of the man, transfixed. Although he was in his early thirties, his delicate features were still, like many of his race, childlike, almost feminine, and in the gentle orange glow of the camp fire a fleeting hint of the beauty which Lan and her brothers had inherited from their mother stirred Joseph's emotional memory. For an instant the image of Lan's modestly lowered eyelids and the curve of her cheek glowing like warmed honey in the light of the Nam Giao sacrificial pyres flashed into his mind's eye, and he stepped forward impulsively and shook Tran Van Kim's hand with unwarranted warmth.

It's been a long time, Kim, When I last saw you, you were whipping the French tennis champion in Saigon."

A wistful smile illuminated Kim's face. "That seems like part of another life now, captain. When my uncle, Dao Van Lat, told me he'd met you again at Pac Bo, I remembered with embarra.s.sment I had not been very courteous to you at the Cercle Sportif."

"Don't worry about that," Joseph laughed and patted him on the shoulder. "I asked Lat how your family were, but he said you hadn't had any contact with them for many years."

Kim nodded his confirmation, his expression sad. "That's right. Unfortunately I fell out with my father. He believed our future lay with France - perhaps he still does. I've had to sacrifice my family ties to the struggle for freedom."

"And you haven't heard how Lan is? Or whether she married?"

"Distant friends told me she married a Frenchman."

"Was it Captain Devraux?"

Kim shook his head a little impatiently. "I'm sorry, I don't really know. I expect she made the marriage to please my father.. . . But perhaps we should talk of more important things, captain." He took Joseph's arm, beckoned to the other Americans and led them to a rough bamboo table near to the fire where the food had been set out. He ordered the meat to be served to the Americans, but took only bean sprouts and rice himself. "In the seven months since you first visited us, Captain Sherman, our forces have expanded greatly," he said as they ate. "We've got three thousand guerrilla fighters under arms now, and since the French were imprisoned we've won control of the six northernmost provinces of Tongking. All this region is our 'liberated zone,' and Hanoi is only seventy miles away. We've got better armaments too from abandoned French stores, but we're very eager to learn how to use the wonderful new weapons you've brought us At that moment Vo Nguyen Giap joined the circle and, with Lieutenant Hawke acting as interpreter, began to discuss the training program with the OSS weapons instructors. Towards the end of the meal, some captured j.a.panese beer was produced, and light-hearted toasts were drunk to victory over the country where it was brewed. As the group broke up to go to their huts, Joseph took Tran Van Kim by the arm and drew him to one side. "When you won your tennis final in Saigon, Kim, you were a convinced Communist, weren't you? Are you still?"

The Annamese shook his head vigorously. "Only the French and the Chinese spread propaganda that the Viet Minh League is Communist - because the French still dream of ruling us again one day and the Chinese are trying to set up their own puppet nationalist party here. Uncle Ho has said many times he no longer favors revolution. Once he believed in Communism, but he will tell you himself he's realized now that such ideals are impractical for our country. I share his new beliefs. Now it will be up to the people to decide the form of government they want. You can call us republican nationalists, if you like. If the people want to keep the emperor as a const.i.tutional monarch without real power, we won't object."

"But what about the rest of the Viet Minh League? How many Communist members do you have?"

Kim grinned slowly. "How many different parties were there in America, captain, when you were fighting for independence from the British? Ninety percent of the people of Tongking support us, and most of them are uneducated peasants who understand nothing of politics. But they're all patriots who understand very well the words 'liberty' and 'independence' - and that's what all of us are fighting for."

Joseph nodded. "Sure, I can understand that. Thanks for killing the fatted calf for my men."

Inside his hut Joseph quickly wrote an arrival report for transmission to Kunming. It read: "Deer Mission down safely with all supplies. 'Lucius' found gravely ill but otherwise all is well. Weapons training begins tomorrow. Forget once and for all the Communist bogey. Viet Minh League stands for freedom and reforms from French harshness and is an amalgamation of all existing parties. It now claims three thousand men under its command and the support of ninety percent of Tongking's population. It is not - repeat not - Communist, or Communist- controlled or Communist-led, 'Lucius' is no rabid revolutionary but in my view a sincere, capable leader who wants autonomy for his people and speaks genuinely for them."

Just as he finished encoding the message with a one-time pad, Joseph heard a footfall outside his hut and looked up to find Kim smiling uncertainly and gesticulating across the clearing. When he stepped outside he saw two slender Annamese girls bending over the dying embers of the fire, stirring a cooking pot.

"We want you to be comfortable here, captain," said Kim awkwardly. "In case you should have difficulty sleeping in the jungle, I've arranged for you to try an ancient soothing drink of the hill tribes."

In the firelight Joseph could see that the girls were young, scarcely out of their teens. Both were dressed in the dark, high- necked ao dai of the north and wore their glossy black hair loose about their shoulders, "They're entertainers in Hanoi," said Kim quietly. "We had them brought through the j.a.panese lines yesterday in time for your arrival."

On hearing Kim's voice, Lieutenant, Hawke came out of the adjoining hut, grinning from ear to ear. "I don't believe it," he whispered incredulously, staring towards the fire, then began firing rapid questions at Kim in Annamese. When he turned to look at Joseph again his grin was broader than ever. "They're brewing up a potent jungle aphrodisiac made from ca.s.sava root and all kinds of things - maybe even dried tiger's p.e.n.i.s. How about that?"

"Remember, lieutenant, we're here on U.S. Army business, fighting a war," grinned Joseph, taking Hawke firmly by the shoulders and propelling him towards the darkness of his bamboo shelter, "For that you need a clear head and lots of sleep - on your own." Turning back to Kim, he smiled apologetically. "Thanks for the kind thought - and please thank the girls too. But tell them we're all very tired."

After Kim had gone and he had dispatched the coded radio message to Kunming, Joseph lay awake listening to the night noises of the bamboo forest. Seeing the two young Annamese girls in the firelight had brought disturbing bittersweet memories of Lan flooding back into his mind; he remembered suddenly the silky feel of her long hair and saw again the soft, bright color of her golden body as she lay naked in his arms during that enchanted hour on the River of Perfumes. As the night wore on, he grew more restless, and twice he rose and crossed the silent clearing to Ho Chi Minh's hut; hut each time he found him sleeping peacefully and stayed only long enough to supervise further injections of sulfur and quinine. Just before dawn he fell into an exhausted sleep and dreamed of Lan, more vividly than he had ever done before, and when the discordant cries of jungle birds broke this brief slumber, he felt strangely comforted and consoled by these fresh images of her lovely face. As he came fully awake, an indefinable sense of pleasure and contentment began to grow in him at the mere thought that he was back once more in the country where he had briefly known such intense happiness with her.

10.

Every day during the first week of August 1945 Joseph and other team members of the Deer Mission rose at dawn and marched two hundred of the best Viet Minh guerrillas to a nearby jungle firing range. From five-thirty AM. until five o'clock in the afternoon, without letup, they taught the ragged Annamese how to a.s.semble and fire the carbines, light machine guns, ant.i.tank bazookas and grenade launchers they had brought from Kunming. The OSS men in their badgeless bush s.h.i.+rts, knee-length shorts, jungle boots and forage caps towered above the diminutive Asian guerrilla fighters, but without exception all the Americans quickly developed a strong, almost paternal affection for their charges.

As the training progressed, Joseph began to send out joint patrols to reconnoiter j.a.panese targets. From places of concealment they watched supply convoys roll down the nearby Colonial Route 3 and the major Hanoi-Lang Son highway farther to the east which led into China, and plans eventually were laid to make the first attacks the following week. In that remote and mountainous jungle terrain behind the j.a.panese lines, where they shared a common danger and a common diet of rice and bean sprouts, the high-spirited OSS men and their energetic Annamese allies soon developed a sense of close camaraderie rooted in a mutual respect. The Annamese were in awe of the big, good-natured Americans and their fine weapons, and in their turn the OSS soldiers found the guerrillas eager, unflagging pupils. At the end of the first week the chief OSS weapons instructor told Joseph that more progress had been made than he'd dared hope.

"The capacity of these little guys for learning is amazing," he said, shaking his head. "You've only got to show them once and they've got it. They're making the change from homemade knives and old muskets to ant.i.tank bazookas and grenade launchers without turning a hair."

During the first two days of training Joseph slipped back to camp from time to time to check on the condition of the sick leader of the Viet Minh, but these visits soon became unnecessary; with a speed that astonished the Americans and the Annamese alike, Ho threw off the fever and, only three days after receiving the first injections of American drugs, emerged unsteadily from his hut to walk around the camp. Although he was gaunt and hollow cheeked, his eyes quickly regained their former brightness, and when he smiled, the warmth of the expression still transformed his ravaged face, By the end of the week he was back at work, and Joseph became aware that endless streams of Annamese strangers were slipping furtively into the camp day and night to talk with him in his hut.

During breaks in the training, however, Ho went out of his way to chat good-humoredly with each of the OSS men in turn, mixing polite inquiries about their families with earnest political discussion, as though he believed that each of them personally might carry his message to the White House. "All I ask is that you give news of Indochina to the rest of the world" was his most frequent smiling plea, and in the conversation he never failed to flatter and praise America for its "high political ideals." On the last day of the week, when he was obviously growing stronger, he invited Joseph to walk with him to the edge of the bamboo forest above the valley of terraced paddy fields onto which the Deer team's parachutes had floated a few days earlier. The sun was beginning to set behind the hills, bathing the spectacular landscape with golden light, and Ho sank down onto a tree stump, staring thoughtfully into the valley where peasants in wide straw hats were straggling home from fields, their hoes and plows slung across their shoulders.

"Life is strange, Captain Sherman, isn't it?" he said at last, turning a wistfully smiling face to Joseph. "Eight months ago I was able by chance to help save you from the j.a.panese and now you've come back here to drag me out of death's jaws." His smile broadened and he held up a hand as Joseph made to protest. "Don't be modest, captain. My comrades told me how it was. They were sure I was dying until you gave me that first injection."

"Yours powers of recovery are remarkable," said Joseph. "You've obviously got a great determination to complete the task you've set yourself."

Ho smiled. "Perhaps. But I know I owe you and the United States of America a real debt of grat.i.tude."

"The finest thing a man can do for another is give hint his unselfish help," said Joseph quietly. "I'm glad I've been able to help someone with your remarkable gifts. I know something of what your country's suffered at the hands of France, and I admire you for what you're trying to do."

The Annamese sat staring down into the valley without turning his head. "Have you got a family, captain?" he asked at last in a quiet voice.

"I have two young Sons."

"And what do you hope for them when this war's over?"

Joseph frowned, feeling a faint stab of remorse at the fact he had given so little thought to his family or the future for so long. "Only, I suppose, that they should be able to grow up in peace and freedom."

Ho Chi Minh nodded slowly in agreement. "1 think in different ways we share the same hopes, captain."

"Have you any family?"

Flo continued gazing at the little knots of peasants wending their way homeward through the evening haze. "I've always devoted my life to my country," he said in an unemotional voice "To me, all those men and women toiling down there are my family. I want the same peace and liberty for them as you want for your sons." He looked up at Joseph and smiled suddenly. "Can you by any chance recite those lines about liberty from your country's Declaration of Independence, captain?"

The American grinned affably. "I might be able to give you the essentials. We had to learn it by heart at my grade school." He closed his eyes to concentrate. "'We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness "Excellent! Please repeat that again slowly so that I can write it down."

Joseph opened his eyes to find the Annamese pulling a little sheaf of green rice paper from his tunic pocket, and he repeated the phrases again more slowly. "May I inquire why you're interested in the Declaration?" he asked when the older man had finished writing.

Ho smiled mysteriously as he tucked his pen and paper away. "I hope you won't have to wait very long, captain, to find out."

The sun was dipping behind the mountains, sending lengthening shadows creeping across the valley, and for a minute or two they watched the day fade, together in silence. Then the Annamese drew a long breath. "Whenever I think about it, cap. tam, I fear there's more chance of you getting your wish than there is of me getting mine."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because I'm. sure France will try to return in force to rule us again. I know how the French mind works. They're proud people, the French, but insecure. There's only a small hope that they'll respect our rights and settle peacefully. And if they try to re-impose their rule by force, there will be great bloodshed." He nodded towards the valley. "Those people down there, like your sons, don't want revolution. That is why I'm determined to do everything in my power to negotiate peacefully with the French. But if this proves impossible, the people will fight - if necessary for ten or twenty years - for their own freedom and the freedom of future generations."

"Why are you worrying about this now?"

"Because we need the moral support of the freedom-loving American people. We know that they believe all nations should be free to choose their own form of government. They should be made aware of the true facts about the former French regime here. If Americans had this knowledge, I feel certain we would get their support. Couldn't you help us?"

Joseph shrugged apologetically. "Remember we're only soldiers, not diplomats. I can report what you say to my headquarters, but that's all Hearing the sound of running footsteps behind him, Joseph swung around to find one of his sergeant radio operators rus.h.i.+ng towards them out of the forest.

"Captain Sherman, we've done it," he gasped as he skidded to a halt in front of them, his face flushed with excitement. "The j.a.ps look like they're licked at last."

"What are you talking about, sergeant?" asked Joseph, mystified.

"We've hit them with a new secret weapon - something called an 'atom' bomb! We've just had a message from headquarters in Kunming. A whole d.a.m.ned city's been flattened. Place called Hiros.h.i.+ma...." The sergeant stumbled over the unfamiliar name. "They think it killed at least eighty thousand people. Eighty thousand, can you believe that? Kunming says a total j.a.panese surrender can only be a few days away."

When they had recovered from their initial Surprise and the sergeant had gone, Joseph smiled ruefully at Ho. "If that message turns out to be true; I guess there won't be any j.a.panese lines to operate behind here much longer - and that makes the Deer Mission redundant."

"No, no, captain! You and your men must finish the training and march with us to Hanoi." Ho beamed and offered his hand. "And anyway, Hanoi is much nearer for you now.' than Kunming."

11.

Ten days after Hiros.h.i.+ma was destroyed, Vo Nguyen Giap led the first excited detachment of Viet Minh guerillas out of the camp to march on Hanoi. They carried their brand-new American carbines, bazookas and grenade launchers proudly on their shoulders, and beside them marched Captain Joseph Sherman and the other men of the OSS Deer Mission as they descended through the forested valleys, they were greeted everywhere by crowds waving makes.h.i.+ft red flags emblazoned with the gold Viet Minh star. In the settlements of the hill tribes, native women in traditional blue costumes decked with silver thrust flowers into the arms of the tall Americans, and in the poor villages lower down the slopes, local guards clutching long knives and rusty rifles turned out to line their route. Modest gifts of eggs and bananas were pressed on them, and in some hamlets, groups of children gathered to sing songs about freedom and liberty as they pa.s.sed. In this heady, festive atmosphere the guerrilla bands were feted like a conquering army, and Joseph and the other Americans, relieved above all else that at last the long war was over, whistled and sang their own marching songs as they swung dong.

Sometimes the roads over which they pa.s.sed were pitted with craters, and most of the bridges had been torn down; great tree trunks also blocked some vital road junctions, and Tran Van Kim, who marched beside Joseph, pointed out the obstructions with obvious pride. 'All this is the work of our own sabotage teams," he explained. "We dug these pits and smashed the bridges with our own hands to prevent the j.a.panese using the road."

Radio messages from undercover Viet Minh agents already in Hanoi reported that the j.a.panese forces there seemed stunned by the sudden surrender of their leaders. They had adopted a stance of pa.s.sive neutrality, and as a result the capital was very quiet, the agents reported. No j.a.panese patrols were sighted by the guerrilla column during the first day, and it moved on openly at a crisp pace, crossing great flat expanses of flooded paddy fields where gold- starred Viet Minh flags fluttered from the roadside telegraph poles.

Occasionally the marchers pa.s.sed through deserted, burned- Out villages where the ruins still smoldered, but to Joseph's surprise, no order was ever given by Giap to stop and investigate. "What's happening to these places?' he asked at last as the column was led on yet another detour to avoid a devastated settlement where several bodies were visible lying among the smoking debris. "They look as if they've been attacked very recently."