Saigon (77 page)

Joseph heard the little girl scuttle back into the cabin and settle down beside her brother, who was already asleep. Through the torn cabin wall he saw the other two North Vietnamese saunter away, laughing obscenely, and he lay down himself and pulled the blanket up over his chest. The battle downstream died away again as quickly as it had begun, and calm returned to the river once more. Joseph tried hard to close his ears, but he could not blot out the sounds coming from the adjoining sampan. He heard the North Vietnamese soldier grunting and breathing noisily and once he thought he heard Tuyet cry out. When an hour later she returned alone to their sampan, he heard her sobbing quietly on her mat for a long time before she fell asleep. 

The next morning Joseph woke late. Cold drizzle brought by the northeast monsoon was drifting down onto the embattled city from skies that seemed to press ever closer to the ground, and moisture was dripping steadily through the sampan’s canopy onto his blanket. Before he was properly awake he found himself wondering vaguely why the previously distant rattle of gunfire seemed suddenly amplified, and it was some moments before he realized that the fighting was moving in the direction of his hiding place. As he lay there he strained his ears, hoping above the noise of the battle to hear voices or the sounds of movement in the curtained-off rear section of the sampan, but gradually it dawned on him that Tuyet and her children were no longer there. When he pushed himself up on one elbow to peer out through a slit in the cocoa palm fiber, the infected wound in his chest throbbed suddenly; he could feel the dressing was sticky with suppuration, and he began wondering how much longer he could hope to survive without proper treatment. 

Through the slit he could see occasional puffs of white smoke from exploding rockets, and all along the waterfront, fires started by a heavy American artillery bombardment called in from eight miles outside the city the previous night were still smoldering and sending a pall of thick black smoke into the air. A corner tower of the Citadel was visible to him, its masonry shattered and scarred by American and South Vietnamese shells but still the ten-foot- thick walls were affording protection to North Vietnamese snipers who fired sporadically from high windows and parapets. 

It was with a start that Joseph realized that the drenched flag he could see hanging limp on its staff above the fortified main gate was the gold-starred red and blue standard of the National Liberation Front. Although Tuyet had told him that the Communists had controlled most of the city for a week from their command post in the throne room of the Nguyen emperors, this symbolic proof of America’s inability to dislodge them, hoisted above the historic ramparts, still came as a shock. He could see that the Communist forces had blown up the French-built Clemenceau Bridge, causing its massive steel arches to collapse into the river, but despite this obstacle he couldn’t understand why the superior weight of American arms was not able to retake Hue quickly now that the enemy for the first time ever had done what Americans had always wanted — come out of their jungle and mountain hiding places to fight in the open. 

As the day wore on, the pain in his chest grew more severe and he could only lie helplessly in the bottom of the dripping sampan, dozing during the lulls in the fighting. From time to time he caught a glimpse through the canopy of the distinctive palm-leaf helmets of the North Vietnamese troops; they seemed to be hurrying unheeding past the sampan, and he guessed they were retreating westward along the river in the face of the American advance. As the empty hours passed, a Conviction grew in him that Tuyet had taken the children and fled. He considered trying the leave the sampan but decided it would be more dangerous to get caught in the cross fire between the two armies than to remain where he was. The whole of his body seemed to throb with the pain of the wound, making him feel sick and dizzy, and he wondered through the muzziness if he might be dying. He felt desperately tired, and as the feeling that Tuyet had gone forever strengthened, a mood of deep despondency settled in his mind, and he found he hardly cared what happened to him. 

He fell asleep again as evening approached, and he imagined he was dreaming when he felt the boat rock and heard hushed whispers behind the mat curtain. The sounds of his daughter lighting the little stove and preparing a simple meal helped by the children seemed as real in his dream as they had done for seven nights past, but he continued dozing and only opened his eyes when Tuyet pulled the mat aside to bring in his usual dish of rice gruel and dried fish. After putting the bowl down in front of him, she retreated wordlessly, hut he reached out and caught her by the arm. 

“Tuyet, I thought you weren’t Corning back tonight.” She turned her head towards him unprotesting, and he saw then that she was pale and trembling. “But I’m very glad you did because I wanted to thank you for last night. I had no right to expect that 

He choked on his words and his voice died away altogether; gently she pulled her wrist free of his grasp and sat back on her haunches, twisting her hands in her lap and staring fixedly at the floor. Outside there was a sudden exchange of fire much nearer than before. 

“The fighting’s coming closer, isn’t it? Is that why you are worrying — because you are losing Hue?” 

“I no longer care who wins and who loses!” She uttered her words with great vehemence, but although her expression was fierce her eyes brimmed with tears. 

“Why, Tuyet?” 

“I’ve grown tired of slaughter and bloodshed! Today I saw a hundred people murdered in cold blood. Some were shot in the head, others were battered to death with clubs and rifle butts.” A shudder of horror shook her body at the memory. “Some of them were even buried alive.” 

Joseph stared at her aghast. “Who were these people? Who killed them?” 

“My comrades.” Her tone was suddenly bitter and contemptuous. “My comrades killed them because we were wrong.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“We were wrong about the uprising. A great ‘General Uprising’ of all the people of South Vietnam was predicted. All over the South people should have swarmed onto the streets to welcome the triumphal entry of our forces — but they didn’t; they’ve remained indifferent. So now the government leaders of Hue have been killed — along with a lot of minor functionaries.” 

There was a sudden loud explosion close to the sampan, and they both stopped and listened in alarm. The stutter of automatic rifle fire continued to grow louder, the low-pitched bark of the Russian-made AK-47 assault, rifles contrasting sharply with the higher trilling of the American M-16. 

“My job here was to help compile lists of government officials, army officers, religious leaders, teachers — people like that. We were told they would be taken away for reeducation. But they were really death lists all the time. Today, because the leadership can see we’re going to be pushed out of Hue, they’ve embarked on a mass campaign of cold-blooded assassination.” She stopped, and ‘her voice sank to a whisper. “The names of three thousand people are on those lists — and all of them are to be murdered!” 

She fell silent for a minute or two, then she looked up at him again. “There were foreigners among them — some German and French priests and several Americans. There was a tall young one, fair-haired like you. They tied .his hands behind him, made him kneel beside a shallow grave, then shot him in the back of the neck. They buried him even before he had stopped moving.” 

Tears began trickling down her cheeks and she closed her eyes; she sat like this for a long time, her fingers flexing and unflexing convulsively in her lap, and at last Joseph leaned towards her. “Please let me take you all away to America, Tuyet,” he pleaded. “You can put it all behind you there.” 

She shook her head quickly without opening her eyes. “It’s impossible” 

“Nothing is impossible, Tuyet, if you want it badly enough. If you believe in it enough, it can become possible. I want more than anything to take you away from Vietnam.” 

She shook her head again and a little sob escaped her lips.” I’ve done many terrible things too.” She opened her eyes to find him staring at her with an agonized expression her lower lip trembled but she fought to regain her control, “Yes, I threw the bombs in Saigon to kill my husband’s torturers, if that is the rumor you’ve heard. And I would do it again! By killing him they robbed me of the only happiness I had known in my whole life! And the desire for revenge didn’t leave me for a long time. I fought as a platoon leader of the Liberation Army in the delta for two years. I killed many times — Americans as well as government troops.” 

“I knew about that.” Joseph spoke very quietly, and she gazed at him open-mouthed in astonishment. 

“You knew all that — but still you wanted to come?” 

Joseph nodded silently. 

Her eyes widened as though she was horrified suddenly by everything she had been saying; then, with a little moan of anguish, she slipped her arms around his neck and bent towards him until her forehead rested against his bare chest. Sobbing wracked her body for several minutes and Joseph wept silently too, his arms tight about her. Outside along the devastated waterfront the battle advanced steadily towards them. 

While he was holding her, Joseph saw the frightened faces of little Trinh and her brother, Chuong, peer anxiously around the edge of the curtain and reluctantly he disengaged himself. ‘What will you do, Tuyet?” he asked softly. “This area will be in American hands within a few hours. Will you take a chance and stay with me? I’ll get us all to America, I promise you.” He glanced towards the frightened children and smiled. “All of us.” 

She drew back from him, clasping her arms tight around her own body as if to strengthen her resolve, and after a moment’s pause she shook her head decisively. “I must stay here. Vietnam has been my only real mother and father. We’ll all go to the North! My Uncle Kim has heard of me through my work for the Liberation Front.” She shot a quick glance at Joseph. “He holds a high position in the Politburo of the Lao Dong, and he’s a close confidant of Ho Chi Minh. He’s offered to help me find a home near him in Hanoi.” 

She- turned away hurriedly to usher the children back into the rear section, and he heard her banging about and giving whispered instructions as they packed their meager belongings. After a few minutes Trinh clambered through into his part of the sampan again and hurried to his side. She looked at him for a moment with sad eyes, then reached out and touched the dressing on his wound delicately with one linger. 

“I hope you get better,” she whispered, suddenly shy. She took a deep breath as if she was about to say something more, but the sound of her mother’s voice calling urgently from beyond the mat curtain brought a look of alarm to her round child’s face. After a quick glance over her shoulder to make sure her mother wasn’t watching, she bent towards him. “Thua, Ong ngoai con di,” she whispered close to his ear; “I must go now, Grandpapa.” She pressed her lips briefly against his bristly cheek, then scampered back t, her mother. 

Joseph lay waiting miserably for Tuyet to come and take her leave, and only when he felt the boat rock twice did he realize she had chosen deliberately to avoid an anguished farewell. Sick at heart, he yelled her name at the top of his voice and scrambled to his knees. He crawled frantically through the empty rear section and out onto time flat stern. The noise of mortar and small arms fire had become deafening and she was fifty yards away, moving fast in a westward direction along the riverbank. Already an anonymous figure in the gathering gloom, her loose black trousers ballooned around her legs as she ran balancing the pole on her left shoulder. The panniers were heavily laden with the cooking stove arid all the other modest possessions from the sampan, amid the two children clung desperately to her hands and clothing, half walking, half running beside her through the awful din of the battle that filled the night. 

Although his eyes never left them, neither Tuyet nor the boy looked back. Only Trinh turned her head once in his direction, and he waved his uninjured arm sadly in Farewell. The little girl raised her head to speak excitedly to her mother, pointing back towards him, but she stumbled in doing so and he saw Tuyet shake her angrily in admonition. Gradually the three frail figures were swallowed up in the misty half-darkness, and he sank slowly to his knees on the stern of the sampan, a cold knot of certainty that he would never see his daughter again tightening in the pit of his stomach. 

A platoon of Marines advancing behind a rank found Joseph crouched on the sampan’s stern half an hour later, He had crawled back into the interior to get his bloodstained shirt and he waved this slowly above to his head to dissuade them from bring on him. A black sergeant with the butt of a dead cigar clenched between his teeth advanced from the darkness holding his M-16 unwaveringly on Joseph until he was certain he was not armed or hostile. Only then (lid he allow his astonishment to show. 

“Jesus! You mean to say an American has been hiding out on one of these little fuckin’ sampans for a whole week with that wound?” The sergeant laughed incredulously as he helped Joseph ashore, then stepping down into the boat, he got down onto his hands and knees to inspect the interior. A moment later he was back on the bank, wrinkling his nose. 

“Guess you’re glad to get off that thing, Mister Sherman, ain’t yuh? Kinda stinks in there, don’t it?” 

Joseph looked at the sergeant but didn’t reply; there was enough light left for him to see for the first time that the sampan had been moored only a hundred yards or so from the spot where he had spent that first enchanted night with Lan on the River of Perfumes thirty-two years before.