Direct Conflict
By David Kent Layman
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and situations are the product of the author’s imagination and cannot be construed as any recollection of fact. Any semblance to real events is completely accidental, though the events in this book likely played out in a number of romantic situations as in any war scenario.
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Copyright © 2011 by David Kent Layman
All rights reserved.
Cover design by Kathy McKibbin
Smashwords Edition
License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.
Table of Contents
Chapter Two – The Teacher, the Mandarin, the Marxist
Chapter Four – Le’s Disappearance
Chapter Seven – Meeting the Commander
Chapter Nine – Rejuvenation of Life (The Miracle)
Chapter Twelve – The Awakening
Chapter Fourteen – Embellishing the Myth
Chapter Fifteen – An Unintended Admission
Chapter Sixteen – A Very Close Encounter
Chapter Seventeen – Lost in the Jungle
Chapter Eighteen – Seeking Out Le Phoung
Chapter Nineteen – The Will to Survive
Chapter Twenty – A Sudden Discovery
Chapter Twenty One – Satan Visits
Chapter Twenty Two – The Safe Return
Chapter Twenty Three – Direct Contact
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The mist arose from the floor of the rain forest, shrouding my view out from the entrance of the church. The fog and mist, the drizzle all seemed to offer a kind of surreal picture for me. It had been a wet, rather chilly night for us out here, much like we were at the very edge of the world, just me and my platoon, here, lying in ambush in the Western Central Highlands of South Vietnam.
We were out in the jungle with little protection except for our artillery bases that would give us some covering fire if we got caught up in some sizable assault by our enemy, the North Vietnamese. And, it had happened before, many times, I’d heard. I was so green, a new Infantry recruit, attached to the 1st Platoon, 2nd Battalion, 2nd Brigade, the 4th Infantry Division. I was one of the FNG’s, fucking new guys. And, they all said it was better to get offed as soon as an FNG got in-country, that way we didn’t put those vets who’d been here a while in harm’s way with our inevitable fucking up! Well, I was going to prove those bastards wrong about this cherry, this FNG. No way was I fucking up, not me, Denton Wunderlin, machine gunner in the United States Army!
So, I felt if we ran into a large force of any kind, well, we were dead meat. I’d heard how those little rat bastards would hit us with an assault, an ambush of their own and by the time we recovered and called in air strikes or an artillery barrage, well then those rat fuckers simply crawled their little rat asses right back in under the ground and escaped. Those little rodent bastards, they hid underground where we could not get at them. And, how could we ever beat them if that was how they were going to fight?
To me, it took me no time, really to figure it out. It seemed like we were a bunch of guys just walking around in the rain forest. We had no chance to win or rarely, I knew, would we ever even find the enemy. This was his turf, his homeland; he knew where to hide, where to lie out, and the best spots to set an ambush or a booby trap. And another thing, he was willing to die for it. And, he had one and only one purpose in his life; to kill us!
I clutched the handle of the 30 caliber machine gun. I had only been in-country now for a few weeks. I stared out into the mist and fog, the drizzle and couldn’t make out a thing. I lamented, sighing, “Fucking shit, they gave me some bullshit two day course once I arrived at Tan Son Nhut Air Base, and wham! What happened? Next thing, they choppered me and a few other grunts right out here into these fucking mountains! Hell, I nearly fainted when I got off the C-130 transport at the air base. The heat and the humidity nearly killed me. And, of course, I had the distinct privilege of seeing quite a few body bags being loaded right onto the plane I had just left! It made me really stop and think; it made me realize that just like that, troops de-barked in-country and some left early, in a manner not of their choosing!
There was no way I was even close to acclimated to this searing heat and humidity, no way! In the daytime, it felt like a thousand degrees. And me, I just had to volunteer for combat, 11 Bravo, Infantry, Vietnam! I mean, I loved hiking out in the woods back home in the mountains of Pennsylvania. I loved backpacking it out into the forest and using my compass to navigate by, go hunting, stalking my prey. Thing was, my prey was a poor, defenseless deer or pheasant. It wasn’t some crazy lunatic slant-eye who would delight in nothing more than slitting my throat!
So, yeah, I was 6’4’’ and 270 pounds. I was going to show all those people back home who said I was off my rocker to volunteer for Vietnam; I was going to show them that I could kick some serious ass. The only ass-kicking I’d done so far was my own! Between the rounds of dysentery, the malaria pills and the heat and humidity keeping me constantly de-hydrated, I was about worthless. And, on top of all that, we never got any sleep! We went out and patrolled or set up our firebase defenses all day and ambushes or listening posts at night! I was supposed to do this shit for the next thirteen months?
So, one of my first all-night ambushes, my platoon was ordered to take up a blocking position along what battalion command had determined was an infiltration route used by the enemy. Thing was, my gunnery partner, Mackintosh, who’d be in-country for over seven months, and knew how to get by, had informed me that the N.V.A. (North Vietnamese Army) and V.C. (South Vietnamese Communists, Charlie, or Viet Cong), had heard us when we choppered into the LZ (landing zone) four klicks (kilometers) out. They simply followed us and waited until we set up for our ambush, then they had our exact location vectored in and could either evade us altogether or set up their own ambush, booby traps or whatever to enliven our little party out there in the bush!
As we approached the infiltration route, our sergeant told us to set up the machine gun right inside the front door of the old, abandoned Catholic Church. That was so we could observe the infiltration route and have some cover.
As we got inside and set the 30 caliber machine gun up, I gazed upwards and saw the Crucifix, just above us. I hoped we wouldn’t have a run-in with the enemy tonight. I felt so fatigued and tired from the total lack of sleep we’d endured. I knew we couldn’t possibly stay awake the whole night. It was physically impossible to endure what the Army expected of you. No one could do it. I couldn’t!
So, here we were, lying prone on the ground, up in these Annamite mountains close to the Cambodian border. I kept wondering, why were we out here? Who cared about any of this? I volunteered for this, I knew, but now that I was here and got a first-hand look at the situation, I knew I’d fucked up. I suppose I should have listened to those back home who told me I was crazy to volunteer for Vietnam. I mean, was I supposed to be fighting for freedom, ten thousand miles from home? The only thing I was fighting was the overwhelming killer urge to lay my head down and get some sleep! I just didn’t know why I was here? Why?
I felt so tired, my eyes felt so heavy. If I could just close my eyes for a few seconds, just a second, my eyes, were feeling so darned heavy, if I could just close them a moment or so, I~~”
I jerked awake and quickly glanced over at Mackintosh. He was still sound asleep. I hadn’t been asleep too long, I didn’t think. I rubbed my eyes and pulled off my helmet. I was so parched and my throat felt tight. I felt tingly, ill-at-ease, a weird, strange feeling coming over me, a very weird sensation sending these odd signals to my brain, as if a kind of early warning system.
I wiped my eyes, attempting to gain a clearer vision. I felt that very different sensation that made my skin crawl and the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I had heard around that every once in a great while a grunt somehow quickly developed a kind of sixth sense and, somehow he knew when danger lurked close by. I had no way of knowing if I’d already developed this early warning sensory perception or not.
I quietly sipped some water from my canteen. I gasped and felt a shiver run up my spine. I still had that very strange, odd sensation and it made my skin begin to crawl more now. I lay very, very still. I didn’t hear anything. I waited and turned my head and I gripped the 30 caliber, waiting, my finger closing on the trigger. Something, I don’t know, something told me it was way too quiet Something was definitely going to happen and I was pretty sure it was going to be bad!.
I started to try to reach over and tap Mackintosh when I thought I saw something rise up in the fog and mist not ten or so feet in front of me. I squinted, l listened, and then, I saw something flying through the air. I yelled out, “Grenade!”
I turned quickly and yanked one of the big, old heavy pews Mackintosh had dragged up to us before we got situated. I yanked it down right on top of us and yelled out, “Get down!”
There was a loud, thunderous explosion behind us, and then another and all hell broke loose. I waited and pushed the pew back up and over. I yelled to Mackintosh, “Get your ass up and feed me! I need ammo!”
I opened up with the machine gun and sprayed the whole area out in front of the church. The sound of that weapon was unbelievable; loud, deep and deathly, a very loud, thunderous death machine! I kept at it and I yelled again, “Mackintosh, the weapon will jam up. Feed me! Get up! Up, up, up!”
I kept shooting and there was firing all around us. Someone blew the claymores out there, deafening roars, loud, crashing explosions more screaming, trip flares going off, deafening blasts, the fog and mist all illuminated, a very eerie scene to me. I couldn’t make anything out. My machine gun had jammed up. Then, I heard some high-pitched screaming out there; someone was hit.
As quickly as it started, it all stopped. After a few moments, I heard the artillery rounds begin to fall in to positions along the infiltration route that had been vectored in the night before. The artillery exploded and it continued to move away from our position.
I was nearly hyperventilating, gasping, and my mouth was so dry I could hardly speak. The sweat poured into my eyes, burning them and making it even that much harder to see. I reached up, wiping my eyes, trying to catch my breath when all I could smell was cordite and burning, smoke. I felt like I was suffocating!
I took a large draw of water from my canteen. I turned and said, “Hey, Mackintosh, we kicked some serious ass, fucker. Why didn’t you feed me? The gun jammed up. I think they’re all gone now. It was a good thing you dragged this pew up here, otherwise those grenades would have fucked us up! We’d be history, body bagged outa’ this shit for good!”
I took another drag off my canteen, and Mackintosh didn’t move. I slid over and shook him, “Hey, dude, I handled those slant-eyed little bastards. Next time though, you better wake your dead ass up and feed me, partner!”
I shook Mackintosh again and his helmet rolled away. His helmet was not on his head. Mackintosh had the habit of cradling it when he slept, for some strange reason. As his helmet rolled away I leaned down and gasped; his head was nearly split in half! I jumped back and gagged as I could not avert my eyes, staring at Macintosh’s head, it was, oh no, blood everywhere, as I began to vomit.
I lay back towards the machine gun and peered back out towards the path. I wiped my mouth, then took some water and rinsed out my mouth. I felt sick, my stomach churning, I could not believe it. I mumbled, staring straight out front, “You didn’t feed me, Mackintosh. The gun jammed and I couldn’t keep firing. You should’a got your shit together, my man. Why did you not wake up? Why? Why?”
I jerked awake from my dream, sweating profusely. Yeah, I was right back there in that old, dilapidated, abandoned Catholic Church! My very first test in combat and I really fucked up! I wiped the sweat from my forehead and eased my way up, trying my best not to disturb Le. I eased up as best I could, trying not to awaken her, my Vietnamese girlfriend. I was shaking uncontrollably, still after more than two years of re-living that terrible nightmare, over and over. I wondered, would it ever leave me?
I gasped, trying to get my bearings. I felt totally disoriented. And, it was still the same, it never changed for me. Mackintosh was still as dead as he was two years ago. He got home alright, with his skull split in two, thanks to me. He’d told me to wake him up, to wake him before I passed out. He had fallen asleep too, but I was the one responsible. Had I awakened him, well, he might have gotten home with his brain intact. But, he knew, see, he knew those gooks could somehow sense just when the time was right for their ambush. They’d been at this shit for hundreds of years. And, Mackintosh, poor guy, just like the rest of us, just trying to cop some Z’s out in the bush; just so tired and so physically exhausted, just a few restful, peaceful minutes, because you were nearly dead with fatigue. Well, he would never, ever wake up again! I totally fucked up, it was my fault! I killed Mackintosh. And now, he was to forever haunt me, I knew.
I sat up and set the pillow behind my head. I needed something to cool me off, but, here in the Mekong Delta, down in the southernmost part of Vietnam, there was no such thing as cooling off. I swore to myself, sick and tired of sweating all the time. It was too hot, too humid and it made me half insane, just like the effect this stinking, rotten country had on me.
I lay there, feeling detached from reality. I knew I was messed up. I hadn’t been home in nearly three years. Here I was, sleeping with this Vietnamese girl, Le Phoung. As a matter of fact, I had re-enlisted and volunteered for a third tour here. Me, Denton Wunderlin, all pumped up, staying in-country, in South Vietnam, to fight for freedom, liberty, and democracy! What a bunch of crap. Anyone who believed that was in serious need of some heavy-duty drugs. Instead, me, the man, I re-upped, only for one reason, only one, to remain here, with Le Phoung, a young, very pretty Vietnamese girl. She was all I knew to be real any more. Nothing else seemed the least bit relevant to me, no one else, I lived to see her, to sleep with her, to feel her gentle, soft caresses, to listen to her soft, gentle voice telling me she loved me. Just coming in out of the bush, feeling like some half-crazed animal, like a wild dog, just in from the hunt, just to see her, well, it was all that mattered to me. There was nothing else that I cared about, not any more.
I slid very quietly out of bed and walked over to the wash basin and rinsed off my face and neck. I grabbed one of Le’s nice, white terry cloth face towels and dabbed my face. I stared at the towel, so white and clean, just like Le. Oh, I knew she was Oriental, but there was no one more beautiful, more pure, more loving, and more caring than her. Did anything else really matter to me?
I dabbed at my face and stared into the old, cracked, stained mirror. I stared and thought to myself, “I think I’ve fallen in love with her. She is breathtaking, so fragile-looking, yet, her long dark hair, her thin, long fingers, her many features, she had so many beautiful features that I saw.”
I folded the towel and set it back by the wash basin. I turned and at the last second, I halted and held my reflection in the mirror. I knew, yes, I knew I was really in for it. No doubt, at some point the shit was really going to hit the fan. Yeah, here I was, hiding, tempting death to take me, almost wishing it would, tuning off my sixth sense just that one time and allowing those nasty bastards to shred my guts all over Vietnam! It would undoubtedly be the best solution for me, for everyone, yes, including Le.
I’d done the unthinkable, here I was sleeping with Le and I had that same strange tingly sensation that I had out there in the bush when the shit was going to go off and hit the fan.
Yeah, big fucking deal, so I had developed it, that sixth sense that a few here in the Nam had found. My squad relied on my nose, just like a dog when its fur goes on end up on its spine. Oh sure, I was wrong from time-to-time, but more often than not my squad immediately moved to cover and set their safeties on their rifles to rock-and-roll. And, a lot more often than not, the shit did hit the fan, an ambush, and maybe I did save a few guys. It would never make up for Mackintosh, but it helped me to cope when I felt like my brain was exploding outa’ my skull! I stared in the mirror and I had that same creeping, tingly sensation, my body tingling, my palms sweaty. This was an ambush of a totally different kind.
I’d been in so many firefights, I quit counting. I killed a lot of the enemy, many more than most because I was good at my trade, killing! And, we had not lost a man other than a slight wound or some other non-combat related injury. But, no KIA’s (killed in action), not one more when I was squad leader and my squad or platoon was out with me. None, not even a serious wound and many attributed that to my nose. No wonder they wanted me to stay here, to fight for the U.S. Sure, why not? I’d racked up quite a few citations and medals. Mackintosh never got shit but a trip home in the body bag I should have be in. But, I definitely exacted my fair share of retribution for my buddy. I often wondered if I hadn’t killed Mackintosh, would I have tempted fate so many times and run headlong into so many firefights. Or would I have smelled those slimy rats and laid my own ambush? Just maybe it was that I got into those slimy fuckers’ heads and got to figuring them a few steps ahead of even themselves.
I prided myself in my expertise. Yeah, all the medals and citations, fuck that! What did any of that mean? I’ll say it meant only one thing; that I was infused with Mackintosh’s spirit and he told me, he whispered to me, when to move, when to charge headlong, when to feint, and when to cover. I’d killed a lot and I felt no remorse whatsoever. I’m sure I would burn in hell because I’d lost control over here. I took particular delight in watching those slopes suffer and let them go wander off, so disfigured, their limbs akimbo, their skulls just like my buddy’s that night in the church. And, I’d whisper, “There you are buddy, I chalked up another one. You can have at him now!
And, all those firefights and I never even stubbed my toe; nothing, not even a nose bleed. Oh, I almost drowned one time crossing a flooded river, but that was my own dumb ass fault! It was the weight of everything, my pack, the 30 caliber, my slipping on the bottom of the swollen river that dragged me under the muddy river water. Luckily, my Commander and my First Sergeant got to me and pulled me up. They dragged me to the edge of the river and we immediately got hit by an ambush! Here we were in the middle of a firefight and I had no weapon; I’d lost the 30 caliber in the river! So, I tried to get as prone as possible, no weapon to defend myself, and of course I’d suffered not one scratch, not one. I survived it again without a scratch. Only thing was, I puked out that muddy, nasty, polluted river water for what seemed like days afterwards.
But now, now I sensed it, that same odd sensation, my skin crawling, and I felt that something lurking, something close by and I feared it more than any firefight, ever. I sensed it, and it was not going away. At least in a firefight I figured I had the edge. I knew their tricks, I had meticulously gotten inside their heads and I got them good! That smell of cordite, the smoke, the firing of our weapons, the grenades, that cordite smell, it made me go at like warp speed. It seemed to ignite me, just like the gunpowder ignited the bullets. I think I loved it all, and knowing I had mastered it, I challenged the enemy many times, and I remained always victorious.
No, this time it was much different. I had no edge now. I was out on an isolated rock, no one else but me. I knew I was in major trouble and no one could help me now. It was Le, my Le, and the Le I was so in love with. I tried to shake it, I tried to ignore it, but it was not working. It stuck with me, that sensation and I knew. Now, I had to find out, and soon. I feared she was a Communist agent.
I stood there for a while and felt like there was nothing for me to do but wait for Le to do something that would give me the proof I needed. Then, if it were irrefutable, I knew for sure she was working with the Communists here in South Vietnam, I would take some drastic measure. I decided to wait and watch, observe and calculate. But, I had to figure this thing out before too long. If I just let it go on and Le was uncovered by us, and the South Vietnamese, I would be tried as a traitor! Me, Denton Wunderlin, a turncoat, a double-crossing scum who cavorted with the enemy and then, I would have nowhere to turn. I would evolve into a man without a country!
I slid back into bed and sighed deeply. Le was still sound asleep. I had to figure this all out. Dad and mom and my sister, back there in Pennsylvania had called and written many times and expressed just how proud they were of me. They said that when I got back home the whole town was going to throw a whole week-end party in my honor!
Shit, dad was a highly decorated World War Two combat veteran. His brother, my uncle died on the Normandy beachhead. Dad’s cousins were also World War Two veterans. Other townsmen there, in Beaver Falls, Pennsylvania, were Korean and Vietnam Veterans, too. I could just envision them all down at the V.F.W. (Veterans of Foreign Wars), drinking and talking it up about their hometown hero, me, Denton Wunderlin, to my dad!
I laid back and envisioned the headlines, “Beaver Falls, Pa. soldier, Denton Wunderlin, highly decorated sergeant busted, arrested and jailed for treason: CHARGE: divulging classified information to a female Communist Agent in South Vietnam.”
Well, it would be curtains for me. It wouldn’t matter if I didn’t divulge anything or not. I knew this Army! They used any and everybody, everyone was totally expendable. If the shit hit the fan, then, they’d fabricate anything to make me the fall guy.
And, actually, I would be at fault, no matter what! I’ve had my suspicions; I’ve felt my skin crawling for a while now. Had I simply cleared out right away, then, I might have been okay! Maybe? But, Le was right there, that first night, right there, at the restaurant, eating dinner by herself. She was right at the next table, I noticed her immediately. And, thinking back on it, I suppose I should have been more suspicious about her then. Even that could very well have been a set-up. But, I think her beauty and her mannerisms overrode any sixth sense I might have normally felt then, masking for her and killing off my normally very suspicious nature. Instead, my animal instinct, that mating instinct, my overwhelming desire for her, well, she did it for me, and I mean everything! And, I fell right in there, for her, for my Venus flytrap, hook, line and sinker.
What could I do now? Confronting her would accomplish nothing. She’d deny it and I’d have her on the defensive. And, she was much too intelligent to allow any kind of gaffe, any kind of loose string that would expose her. I’d be better to get clear of all of this. I better clear out and never return. Get away now! I better; I’ll get some more sleep and clear out of here later!
I fell asleep and I slept fitfully. When I awoke, I jerked up, gasping. I glanced over and Le was not there. I gazed around the hooch and listened; all I heard were the normal sounds, a dog barking off in the distance, young kids playing outside, an occasional high-pitched shriek, a cart drawn by an Oxen clattering by.
I swung my feet off the bed. I brushed my teeth and rinsed my face off once again in the wash basin. Again, I stared into the old, cracked, stained mirror, and muttered, “You’ve come a long way, and now this mess? Is this going to be your enduring legacy? What do I do?”
I threw the face cloth down next to the wash basin and cursed myself. I grabbed my duffel bag and pondered, “So, do I simply leave? Do I just walk out the door and extinguish Le totally out of my life? If I found out she was an enemy agent, would I be capable of killing her? Would I be able to turn her in?”
I began to pack my duffel bag. I had to get out now. As I shoved more into my bag, I thought, “I have to do this. If I stay, I know I will inevitably bring shame and dishonor to myself and my family and my friends. I would be branded a traitor, a turncoat, despised by all. I’d be sent to prison for life! Me, in a cage, to suffer all the indignities of a caged animal, and knowing the whole time I was not guilty of any crime besides being hopelessly in love with Le.
I would gladly lay my life down for her. In a sense, I already had. I’d re-enlisted just so I’d have her for another year in my life. That meant many, many more firefights, many more brushes with the Grim Reaper. And, it only took one time when my nose for danger might dessert me and that would be the end, forever!”
I finished stuffing my duffle bag and slung it up on my shoulder. I exhaled deeply and gazed around. My stomach churned, my mind raced and I was sweating heavily. I turned and headed for the door. As I reached for the door, there was a note. I hesitated, thinking I should just continue on, play it smart, and not let these stupid, childish emotions stand in my way. After all I was a hardened combat veteran, steeled by fire and hell-bent on leading my men to victory. Why let this trifle cause me any kind of trouble?
I almost departed, almost. I tried, then, even though I felt like I was making a mistake, that feeling, uneasy and detached, feeling ill-at-ease, it seemed not to matter.
My hand, against my will, against my better judgment, almost reflexively reached for the note. I slowly opened it up, fearful of its contents, fearful of my own weaknesses, a draining feeling, I read, “Darling, I had to go teach in the village. I should be finished this afternoon early. I hoped we could go and ride the boat at our favorite place on the river. I am missing you already. You’re always with me, my love, in my dreams when I sleep you’re there, always, in my thoughts when I am awake, you’re there, you make me so very happy, always, you’re there every moment of my being. Love you, Le.”
P.S. “I’ve decided I’d like to write a novel. Could you help me please, love?”
I smiled to myself. I held the note and slowly turned my head, back and forth, feeling my throat constrict now. “This is a trap. She couldn’t have just gone on ahead and left without leaving me this. Who knows, maybe her sixth sense told her that I was contemplating a departure, never to return, that I had my suspicions about her being a Communist agent. She ambushed me and my sixth sense told me, it screamed out, “DO NOT READ THE NOTE!” Maybe I’ve outlived my nine lives. Maybe I’ve used up all my great fortune. Maybe it’s going to be my time. I’ve fallen into this trap, this ambush, and what can I possibly do? Leave, and carry this note with me through another year of combat? The note, sure, I could rely on that, her love note to me, to infuse me with her love, her tenderness, her gentle touch, how it soothes me.
And, what then? I’d leave to return home to Pennsylvania, whether in a body bag or alive, to that week-end party all my family and friends had planned for me. And, what of Le? What would ever happen to her? Would she survive here? Would she face being ostracized for her conduct with me? And, me, what did I do for her? I snuck off like a low reptile, a slithering snake, a coward who was so afraid! I was afraid for my own reputation; I was a coward who didn’t deserve to live. Should I go and allow the enemy to finally exact their vengeance, gain their handful of retribution against me? A stinking, low, snake of a coward, no better than a traitor, and to the only one I ever cared about, the only one who offered me unconditional love! I did not deserve her!
I walked back into the bedroom and threw my duffle bag down on the floor. I took my things back out. I decided it was time I talked to Le. I had to; I could not wait any longer. I had to, enough! As soon as she returned, we would talk, and if I still felt the same about her, I would decide what to do then. But, I had to see her one more time, just one, and then I would know!
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Chapter Two – The Teacher, the Mandarin, the Marxist
I walked along and breathed in deeply. The morning air hung heavily as I made my way to the small village just a little distance from mine. I was heading to this neighboring village to continue my efforts at teaching the local children. I taught the youngsters the very basics, of course. We started with our own language, Vietnamese. I also touched on our culture, our country and its relationship to the rest of the world.
I had to always remind myself that this was the very first exposure that any of these children had to any kind of formal education. They seemed to express their excitement when they saw me coming. They would run to me and begin to sing and chatter among themselves. The villagers rarely saw anyone other than their own; that is until the war started to heat up.
So, I took it upon myself, Le Phoung, me, the educated elite female, the rich Mandarin Vietnamese, to do my little, and miniscule part to help educate these poor, illiterate souls. Yes, I wanted to do my little part, even if I could touch just one of them; just one little boy or girl, to help them, to cultivate and nourish that light inside just one of their little minds, to want more. Just to turn it on, that one switch, me, Le Phoung, just maybe one, or two.
I thought back to my days as a young student. But, I had all the advantages because I was born into a kind of aristocracy, an elite status in my country, South Vietnam. I was born into the elite class; my father was a respected Mandarin and a government official, a judge. My mother was an engrained socialite who attended all the proper functions due her class rank. Her status as a member of the aristocracy, born like my father, and their parents before them; back many generations, and her status permitted her to attend every lavish, ostentatious, garish function that Saigon had to offer. And, she did attend, always, and she did make her mark as a lady of polish, grace and a kind of intellectual grasp that many ever failed to possess.
My mother and my father had both studied abroad, both at Cambridge University in London. Father mastered in political science and law. Mother mastered English Literature, the Classics, and seven different languages, including Mandarin, which prevailed as my family’s nationality.
We Mandarins were considered somewhat as outsiders in my homeland because our antecedents had fled the invasion of Genghis Khan and his Mongol hoards in the Thirteenth century. The Mandarins or Han Chinese migrated from an autonomous region in northwestern China, fleeing into various regions in Indochina, the Malaysian Peninsula, Indonesia and present-day Taiwan.
The Mandarins were not simple illiterate farmers or peasants. The Mandarin people, oh, we prided ourselves as the privileged that ran businesses, various enterprises and so forth, the cream of the crop! For example, my antecedents held quite an influence on the silk trade route that ran across Central Asia to Iran, dating from the second century B.C.
Of course, as I walked along I was sure I stuck out like some crystalline or porcelain figure, a very fragile doll, easy to break, as I walked along through this village. The village elders stared as I walked along; they knew I was no illiterate peasant. Little did they know how much I despised the class stratification, the persona, the ugly aura and of course, not knowing, they viewed me with great suspicion. Maybe they knew of my Mandarin background? I am quite sure my appearance bespoke of my heritage. I knew others said we Mandarins simply appeared of aristocratic stock.
I walked along, glancing about, thinking about my family and our friends, all of supposed aristocratic stock, highly educated and rich, in a land of poor peasants mired in total poverty and illiteracy. It hardened me; it made me all the more determined that I had to at least try to make some kind of effort. I could not understand how mother and father, my sister and her husband and the rest of us could just go on and on and never even concern themselves with their fellow humans, fellow countrymen. Did they have no conscience whatsoever? Were they truly that uncaring? It made me very angry towards them. It made me despise them, them and their supposed haughty aristocrats of such an elite class. They knew nothing.
I swore I would do my part to change things. I could not change who I was, my background, but I could attempt to correct my supposed character, my deportment. I would fight with every breath in my body against the inequities, what I considered the lawlessness and abuses of my very own! The Mandarins, the Catholics and others in our country, in any country, there was always stratification by class standard. And, they held absolute power over the rest, and all were corrupted by it. Absolute power, by its very nature was inherently corruptive. Any human who possessed such a force over others would naturally take every advantage they possibly could. And, another facet of absolute power was the standard brain-washing, the indoctrination and propaganda that controlled the masses, psychologically controlling them to remain in a constant state of subservience, enslaving the rest for the benefit of the elite. At the same time, those power mongers got richer, more powerful and had no interference from their poor, illiterate, brain-washed masses.
It was a nearly perfect system they had devised; just one problem, occasionally there was a malcontent who didn’t quite see it their way. I was considered a trouble-maker, a bad seed, one who wanted to break down the status quo. So, I was seen by my own people as disruptive and divisive. None of them could quite understand why I would embark on such a mission. And, the poor, illiterate peasant stock, the elders, they viewed me with a dark, distrustful taste, as if I carried some terrible disease, or that I reeked of some horrible stench. They stared and if I looked back, they demurred and hid, turned quickly away, afraid, unwilling to ever address their silly superstitions and their illiteracy, their horribly flawed, unyielding, unbending belief system. They were afraid, unknowing and unable to grasp such complexities as I’ve spoken, failing to grasp the totality of their enslavement. They only knew the dirt, the soil, and the natural elements that either allowed them to thrive and live, to have a family. But when those elements turned hostile, then they and all they knew perished into dust. It was a basic trust with nature, and many times nature exacted its awful final toll.
I stopped at a small creek running just next to the village. I stared at one of the small, swirling pools along the creek bank and saw my reflection in the water, staring back. I stared, neatly tucked my long-flowing jet-black hair behind each ear and I thought back and remembered, I remembered how I’d arrived here.
I had spent time in two of the largest, most modern cities anywhere; Paris and London. Yet, I returned here to this poverty-stricken little farming village in the Mekong Delta to have it my own way. I felt so strongly about my purpose, my being here, my being as a person. Having done well in my scholastics first at Paris and then at Cambridge University in London, I had decided to return home and address some of the glaring social inequities that had never left my conscience. But, there was more to me than my scholastics. There was quite a bit more.
I had also studied Marxism while abroad and had attended a number of meetings and functions. I read and I studied and I listened to some of the party functionaries and their speeches and their rhetoric. I could easily identify with the Marxist agenda. With my hatred of class stratification and an elite ruling class, that much was evident, that their brand of politics would fit me. I felt that I was in close alignment with their Marxist dogma. I had written a number of articles without identifying myself for the local newspaper in Paris condemning many of the very issues I’ve just addressed. I decided to become a Communist Party member and carry that brand of political affiliation of my choosing back to my homeland as well.
I did not divulge my new affiliation with the Communist Party to anyone when I arrived back in South Vietnam. I knew I would be branded a traitor and a double-crosser. Also, the party members both in Paris and in Moscow determined I would be of better use in a covert kind of status. Me, Le Phoung, I was a young, Vietnamese Mandarin girl, a spy; a covert spy, working for the Communist Internationale, the Comintern? It still sounded almost humorous to me. I never, ever believed I would be cast into such a role. Never! It sounded like a funny kind of a childish story, I thought.
The only catch to the funny story was that I could be imprisoned, tortured, held captive forever, then murdered! I could have been made to suffer the very worst kinds of physical and mental and emotional depravations imaginable. I had heard all the stories before. Solitary confinement, a very cold prison cell, a very hot prison cell, almost non-existent rations, usually feces and insect and maggot infested. They kept you awake for days at a time. They fed you any and all kinds of drugs to make you think you were insane. Rape, multiple times, over and over, sodomized, among any other kinds of devices the sadistic jailers could find. Electric shocks, electrodes attached to one’s genitals and anywhere else that produced the maximum pain. The water boards, the rack and being made to watch other Communist Cadre members being given all kinds of the very worst, most atrocious kinds of tortures. You had to watch and sometimes they forced you to inflict the torture, probe with the blazing red-hot iron, and the red-hot knives, possibly severing a penis or probing with some hideous device up a female’s vagina.
We were told about everything we’d face at the hands of our enemy, so that we knew what to expect, and to have the choice of swallowing the cyanide pill they supplied us, just in case we decided it was much simpler and easier than the other. I knew for me, I would bite down on the pill, a swift and rather painless way to go. I would go away to my next world and before I bit down, I would just hope that in my next world there would not be all the injustice and inequities I discovered in my first life.
I moved along and gathered up my pupils. We spent the morning going over our previous material. I had asked them to do some homework and they complied nicely. I was surprised that they would work so diligently and that there seemed to be little interference from their elders. They did seem so eager to learn.
I finished up with the children and assigned them some more homework. I told them we would meet again in two days.
I walked along on my way back to my village when I noticed behind me the noise of a motor scooter. It went by me and the driver had his hat down off his head. I paid no more notice to him.
I walked along and as I made my way out along the road, I quickly turned off onto a path. I walked along past several small gardens and turned up another path. I walked for some distance and I heard a series of three distinct clicks. I knew that was the signal to turn up the next path to the right.
I slowed and stopped several times to make sure I wasn’t being followed. And, I knew that there were several party members following from some distance off, to intercept any interlopers.
I walked along, and I picked up my pace. I moved rapidly and didn’t slow or stop myself now. After some time, a squad of Vietnamese soldiers suddenly appeared and surrounded me. They were armed and they had that hardened, grizzled, fearless look of combat veterans. One of the soldiers stepped forward, and with a very dry, very formal introduction, “Comrade, we will accompany you the rest of the way.”
Two of the soldiers remained at a distance behind and the other four spread out ahead of me. Now, we jogged at an even, quick pace. There was no room for slovenliness or laziness with the Communist Party members or the P.L.A. (People’s Liberation Army).
As we jogged for some distance, I began to wane and tire. They must have known I would lag back. Suddenly, I was afforded a bicyclist. He explained, “Sit on the seat. I will pedal. We have no time to waste.”
The soldier who had initially spoken to me spoke to his men to continue on ahead. He barked out, in a controlled tone, not too loud, “We move, double quick, five meter spread, absolutely no noise.”
The men headed out and the bicyclist started off, “Say nothing. We will be some time before we reach our destination.”
We finally made it to a small clearing. The bicyclist stopped and another soldier appeared. He bowed his head slightly, “Comrade, welcome. I will accompany you on ahead.”
Then, we walked a short distance and I saw District Commander Tu Than standing in a small clearing. I knew I’d reached the District Party’s mobile headquarters. Tu Than was a rather stoic, harsh, abrupt type. He’d fought against the French at Dien Bien Phu in 1954 as a young Communist Army Lieutenant. He had served with distinction and valor. He was highly decorated for his bravery and he had risen to become a high Party official. He was also a Colonel now in the N.V.A. (North Vietnamese Army). “Welcome Comrade Le, to my headquarters.”
I bowed my head, “Thank you Comrade Than. I hope things have gone well for you since we last met.”
Than offered a thin, nearly non-existent smile. “We have been very busy. Our sector has come under increased bombing by the imperialist Americans. Also, we have detected more activity by the American Army both here and to the south. Do you have any pertinent information for us?”
I answered, “I have nothing from the sergeant. He never divulges anything whatsoever about his unit, what he does, or any kind of upcoming mission. My other contacts have nothing new to report, either. Shall I push the sergeant?”
Than stared at me, his eyes steeled, a deep brown, “Comrade Le, you have sacrificed greatly for the Party. No, no, we want you to remain as if you have no interest in any information of a military nature. No, you continue your teaching. And remember, not a word to anyone about any of this. No one, do not trust anyone. If you divulge our meeting, it could compromise everything. We fear there is a traitor among us. Why else would we see increased bombing of our Headquarters Command at such obvious times such as these?”
I shook my head vigorously, “Not a word from me, never! I would die by my own hand first. I am totally committed to the Party, Comrade Than.”
Comrade Than held my stare, somewhat unnerving, making his point, his eyes so piercing; as if he’d notice any hint of deception, “Your sergeant, would you sacrifice him if necessary? We understand the rather difficult complexities of your situation. One might say you have fallen into a terrible trap, Comrade.”
“The sergeant means nothing to me Comrade Than.” I offered. “He is a pawn serving the Capitalist West. I can tell you that he intimated that he was offered an appointment to their officer’s college at West Point. But, he turned it down. He explained that he would have been required to return to America for five years training and schooling and doubted he’d ever see me again!”
My statement brought a nod from Than, nothing more. Then, he said, “Very well, he is their stooge then, yes. And, he has caught himself in his own inescapable trap, I would surmise. It would appear he has allowed himself to become your stooge, too! One day he may prove quite useful to us. You must maintain your ruse, Comrade Le, and allow the sergeant his deepest intimacies and fantasies. I would also advise seeking a permanent relationship with him. He has re-enlisted for another year here, we understand. And, our sources have been quick to point out that there are virtually no American soldiers who are permitted a fourth year to remain in Vietnam.”
I maintained a totally blank façade. “Might I inquire, Comrade Than, you mentioned a permanent relationship with the sergeant; I hoped it wouldn’t come to that. After all, I am a cadre member of the Party, and I have been targeted for promotion. I hope I am not out-of-line, but, pardon, I had hoped you’d choose me to possibly become your aide?”
I bowed my head in reverence. “Comrade Than hesitated, then, in a very stern tone, “Comrade Le, I must warn you against this type of self-aggrandizement. The Party must always come first, in all matters, no matter what else. You must follow orders without question at all times. Is that understood?”
I quickly bowed my head again, “Yes, Comrade Than, of course. I only mentioned it because I thought I would better serve the Party in such a capacity. It was only my thoughts of how I could best serve the Party, Comrade!”
Comrade Than again waited, “I have personally recommended your promotion, Comrade Le. And, there may come a time when you will be attached to Party Headquarters. We are not blind to your capabilities and your extended education. Your record is very impressive. And, if I may, there are many instances when we have need of someone of, let’s say, your physical stature and looks, Comrade.”
Comrade Than then let his façade diminish slightly, then fade and he actually offered a kind of half smile to me; his eyes now less lethal and daunting, changing from that determined, threatening, piercing appearance to a much more gentle, accepting look.
I offered a slight smile, and I leaned just a little forward, so very out-of-line, but it was my intention to send Than a distinct, unmistakable message. This message Than would understand immediately! I knew I had earned a very serious rebuke if the Commander decided to rebuff, an abrupt rejection of my tactic.
But now I knew; I had found out what I needed to know. Comrade Than was not quite the unyielding, unfeeling Party robot he purported to be. He desired me, I knew now, and his obvious betrayal of his feelings could have gotten him a quick dismissal from the Party. But, he undoubtedly felt that he could engage in some liberties with me. I was only a junior Party member, a no one, at least up to now. Commander Than, on the other hand, was a real hero for all our Party members to admire and revere. Commander Tu Than was a living legend to all Communists everywhere!
Comrade Than quickly returned his facial expression from that much softer, much more vulnerable look, allowing me to understand his passion for me, now steeled and most contrite, and abrupt, barking his command to inform me just who was in control here. Yet, we both knew that I had at least temporarily broken him, even for just a moment or two, and I felt I’d achieved a certain victory over my superior. He knew as well. But, of course, I demurred, submissively, as he exacted a small retribution to mask his weakness. “Comrade Le Phoung, do not trifle with me. I have neither the time nor the inclination for any kinds of intimacies, especially with one so young. You should be advised that this type of conduct is not fit for a Party member. Do you understand? I would not care to have to seek your sudden dismissal from the Party. There are rather stiff penalties for unacceptable conduct. I have a mind to send you to one of the distant provinces for re-education and reflection!”
I quickly bowed and my smile vanished and I leaned back away, “I am deeply sorry! I had no intentions of any other than in the best interests of the Party, Comrade Than. I am here to serve, that is my sworn duty. I hope to serve the Party in any manner that is needed. I meant no disrespect.”
There was a long, unbroken silence. Then, Than made me reflexively jerk my hand; then I recovered quickly as he grasped mine. I fought my quivering as I felt the warmth of his hardened, rather large hand, as the intonation of his voice remained somewhat rigid, “Comrade Le, we are in these very trying times at present. We must persevere and maintain our vigil and keep up our fight. There is much to be done, and we must not allow our personal feelings to engage us. But, I truly feel that one day the Americans will tire of this war. We know that the American public at home has lost their appetite to continue. They have grown tired of all the death and destruction, their soldiers dying and suffering for no apparent purpose to them. I feel the war will end one day, and it may be before we think.”
Now, I had to ensure that I did not miss this opportunity. I understood that Than was wavering, feeling that time just might have finally caught up with him. I was sure he had very little opportunity to engage with a young female that I now knew seemed to intrigue him. And, for an older battle-hardened, yet weary soldier, I saw that he was not lost on the fact that he may not ever get an opportunity like this one again. Here, now, just a brief interlude, just a moment he could always cherish, remember forever, to express his affection, which he had to bury for so many years. Tu Than may have actually been a romantic, an author, an artist, one of deep caring and love, except for a series of events in his life that changed him into a warrior. And now, he saw a chance to be more demonstrative, to seek out a slight pleasure for himself, just for a moment or two.
I decided I had to risk it all now. I might never have another chance. I struck, making my thrust as an opportunist. I wanted to rise up in the Party. I wanted more; I wanted to return to Paris one day and this time as a high-ranking member of the Party and as a member of the negotiating committee to sign the Armistice. In order to accomplish that, I needed much, much, much more influence within the Party itself. Then, I could affect real change in my country, and possibly even beyond!
I struck, making my very risky thrust as an opportunist, “Comrade Than, if you could, just as a gesture, I would be most appreciative and dedicated if you would recommend that I join your staff. I am not seeking my own aggrandizement now. No, it is for the Party, for the Headquarters Command. I feel that the Headquarters would benefit greatly from my expertise in certain areas. Would you allow me to explain further?”
Comrade Than said nothing, maintaining his steely stare, yet continuing to grasp my hand, thus allowing me to proceed. I explained, “I have contacts in the Saigon government, as you know. My father may be of great use to us as well. If I were attached to your Headquarters and sent on missions to compromise the Americans and their stooges in the South Vietnamese government, I may be able to infiltrate and garner very valuable information. It would be a much esteemed honor if the information that our government officials in Hanoi received had emanated from your Headquarters. Of course, you would receive the lion’s share of the credit.”
Comrade Than, I knew was no one to trifle with. He could have me shot with a mere order for any trivial matter. There would be no appeal. He operated with much impunity. He was one of the few Communist Party District Cadre members who were afforded some amount of autonomy. He was thought of with much reverence and trust by the higher-ups in Hanoi.
He studied me with his searching, deep-set eyes, and I knew Than had the impression that I was promoting my own self-interests. It was only a matter of how much he desired me. If he had his own hidden agenda, I would be here, with his Headquarters Command soon. If not, I would undoubtedly languish in the villages to teach my poor little children about Marxism.
Then, Than decided, as he let go of my hand and re-adjusted himself, straightening himself, as if to issue his decision, “Comrade Le Phoung, I will address all this in time. It will take some considerable activity on my part if I were to draft you into my District Headquarters. As of now, I demand that you re-focus your thoughts. You will follow the Party instructions to the letter. If I hear that you have deviated at all, I will enact the most severe penalties against you. You will proceed as I’ve instructed.”