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Chapter 3
The noise was deafening and the bright flashes of exploding grenades dazzled her. She could barely register what was happening, except that fast-moving GIs were running all over the place, sometimes pushing her aside if she somehow got in their way. How could that even be possible? One minute they had all been sitting there casually, finishing their lunches and telling stories to friends and now they were rushing to the combat zones, armed to the teeth and ready to kill. She guessed military training had that effect on them. It was as if they were not human anymore, only death machines that could be switched on and off. She tumbled to the ground when someone pushed her with unnecessary force.
"Just what the fuck are you doing? Go hide in a bunker or you're gonna get killed for sure, you idiot!" someone yelled above her.
She squinted and realised it was Tommy, the boy with freckles on his face. It was funny, how he could worry about her safety and still act like a jerk at the same time.
"What's happening?" she yelled above the noise.
She wasn't stupid, she knew the base was being attacked but she felt something was a bit.. off. She had noticed the soldiers were not rushing in a general direction, as if the danger was everywhere at once. But that couldn't be possible, right...?
"The NVA's crossed the north border of the base, we have to retain them and prevent them from overflanking the south border at the same time," he yelled before desappearing.
So she had been right after all. They were surrounded by soldiers of the North Vietnamese Army, which meant that no one was no longer safe. Hiding in a bunker wouldn't change a single thing if the enemy managed to take over the base. Except perhaps a slow and painful death at the hands of the Viet Cong once they found her, frightened and begging for her life. She'd rather die than experience something like that. She promply got up and broke into a run. She didn't care where she was going as long as it was away from General Hoa.
She had not moved two miles when she fell to the ground for the second time that day. A grenade had exploded next to her and the sudden shock had caused her to lose her balance. She glanced sideways and took a glimpse at the enormous crater generated by the explosion. It could have been her lying in the middle of it, her body reduced to a bloody pulp and impossible to identify.
"Aaaaah!"
Someone had screamed. Sick with fear and heart pounding in her chest, she tried to crawl in the direction of the sound. She was afraid of getting up. Perhaps the person who had thrown the grenade at her would not miss her this time, maybe there were snipers hidden somewhere. She didn't want to take the risk. She successfully managed to reach the injured person.
It was a boy of about her age, with mousy hair and bright blue eyes. His arm had been blown off by the explosion. She came to the cold realisation that he had been the one targetted, not her. So the operation had been successful after all. He had already lost so much blood that it would be no use for her to try and stop the haemorrhage.
"I-..I- why...?"
Why? There were a dozen things she could answer. Because it was almost impossible to dodge a grenade that had been lauched from such a distance. Because he had been drafted at a young age to fight a war he didn't begin to understand. Because in times like those no one could distinguish a kid wearing a uniform from a soldier willing to fight for his country. However, she answered nothing of that.
"Sshhh... close your eyes, it's going to be all right," she said soothingly.
She realised she didn't even know his name. It made her want to cry. He deserved much more than that for his last instants.
"Martha... oh Martha..."
Who was Martha? Perhaps his sister, maybe his lover. The second option seemed more likely. Again, her helplessness made her want to scream. How could she help him go through this traumatising experience when she didn't know anything about him? She find herself wishing for his imminent death. He was suffering too much and she wasn't helping him.
"Focus about something you love... focus on Martha... she will help you go through this."
"Martha... I... wish..."
The rest of his words were drowned in his own blood and moments after he was dead, eyes humid with tears. She closed his eyes. She took a shaky breath and got up, oblivious of her previous fears of being shot. She had seen many people dying in the hospital, but it was nothing compared to this. A soldier dying on duty was all alone and passed away in atrocious pain, whereas people in the hospital usually had their family to accompany them in their last moments.
She found herself wiping away tears. The young soldier's blue eyes reminded her of Matthew's. She hoped he was all right. And thinking about Matthew reminded her of her father. Oh god, what could he be doing now? He usually didn't fight but what if they needed him this time? Fear ungulfed her once again.
What was she supposed to do now? Find her father? Perhaps it was the best solution. She didn't care if it was dangerous, no place was safe anyway. She broke into a run, making her best not to step on the bloody corpses along the way. It was sickening, how the NVA managed to throw explosives inside the base from such a distance. Some of them had killed civilians who had happened to be there by sheer rotten luck. It was a miracle that she was still in one piece when she reached her father's office. The door was open but there was no one inside. She had a bad feeling about this.
"Ly! What are you doing here?" someone said behind her.
She turned around. The unfamiliar form of a soldier holding a rifle and holding a helmet faced her. She realised it was Matthew. He didn't look like himself when prepared for combat.
"I'm looking for my father! Have you seen him?"
She knew he probably didn't know what her father looked like but asking couldn't hurt.
"The point is that shouldn't be out there! Come with me, I'll escort you to safety."
"There's nowhere safe anyway!"
She stepped back. She had the feeling that Matthew was not going to give up so easily.
"Ly, please lis-"
He didn't finish his sentence. A bomb exploded in the vicinity, followed by the sound of bullets being shot their way. Before she could even process what was happening, Matthew pulled her by the arm and she found herself running along with him. It was hard to keep up but it was the price to pay if she didn't want to be slaughtered. He never let got of her arm, which allowed her to look sideways while she ran. There were injured people everywhere, those whose reflexes were not good enough. War was a little bit about that: smelling the danger before everyone else.
Then something attracted her attention. There was an injured man by the roadside. She coud not distinguish his features but judging from his uniform, chances were that it was her father. Ly felt her blood turning cold. She had to know. Breaking free from Matthew's grip on her arm, she ran towards the injured man.
"Ly, come back!"
But she wouldn't listen. Putting aside her sense of self-preservation, she crouched next to the man. There was no doubt possible now: it was her father. His eyes were closed and he was clutching a wound on his belly. She could see blood dripping through his hand. Big tears formed into Ly's eyes.
"Papa! Papa!"
Sau's eyelids twitched and he cracked his eyes open. The black eyes that once had been so full of love had a glossy appearance that scared her.
"Ly... my child..."
His voice came out as a breathless whisper.
"Papa, it's going to be all right. Let me see your wound papa, I'm sure I can do something!"
Sau smiled sadly at her. He knew she was deluding herself.
"There's nothing you can do for me, Ly. We were both prepared for this."
"No that's not true, I'm not ready Papa! Don't leave me!"
Her sobs were stifling her voice, which came out like a violent hiss. But she was sure he had got the point.
"Ly, I talked to General Hoa. He will take care of you, I promise. Now run to safety."
So it was true after all. Her father had placed her fate in General Hoa's hands. But could she really tell him how awful that man really was? She couldn't muster herself to do it. What use would it be, anyway?
"Papa... papa..." was all she could manage to say as she sobbed over her father's chest.
Matthew pulled her by the arm. She angrily snapped his hand away.
"Don't touch me! I'm not abandonning my father!"
"Look Ly, I know it's hard but it's not the best solution. He wants you to live."
"Don't talk about him as if he was dead! You don't even know him!"
Matthew pulled harder and this time she was forced to get up. She was no match when it came to strength.
"What are you doing? Let go of me! LET GO!"
She tried to punch him, to kick him, even to bite him but all her efforts had no other effect besides making her look completely hysterical. And then she saw it. The big, fat bomber hovering above them like a metallic prey bird. That was it. They were going to bomb the hell out of the base because no base at all was better than a base ruled by the NVA. The plane flew in the direction of the jungle, but it was still pretty damn close to them. She closed her eyes. She didn't want to see the impact. Suddenly, it was as if there was nothing but void under her feet. She opened her eyes. She guessed the bomb had finally made contact with the soil. She caught a glimpse of Matthew's blue eyes before passing out.
At first she didn't remember anything. Then the memories hit her like hot bullets piercing her skin. Her father was dead. An incontrollable sob escaped her throat.
"Miss Ly! Miss Ly you're awake!" someone said.
Ly tried to blink the tears away. They were making her vision blurry.
"Hai, is that you?"
The young girl held Ly's hand with hysterical relief.
"Yes Miss Ly, it's me."
"Where are we?"
"The military hospital, Miss."
Ly took a look around. She was surrounded by GIs lying on beds, but this time she was among them. How ironical.
"Hai, what happened?"
"I- I was visiting my native village, Ky La, when the attack happened. I took the first bus to the military base but when I arrived it was already over. The bomb had killed all the soldiers of the NVA, and many American GIs too. The ones who happened to be in the vicinity. And... and... when I saw you, you were lying on the ground. I think the force of the impact is responsible for your fainting fit. But overall you are okay."
"But why am I here? This hospital is supposed to be for the soliders only."
"It's General Hoa who took you here. That's very kind of him. Do you want me to call him? He looks forward to talking to you."
Ly felt her blood turning cold. Hoa's last words replayed in her head: "You are going to pay for this."
"No Hai, don't. We must leave at once."
"But why? It was your father's wish that General Hoa takes care of you. You can't do that to your father. Poor Phung Sau."
Hai started to cry. Ly shook her head, slightly annoyed. They didn't have time for this.
"No Hai, I'm sorry but it's very urgent. We can't stay here."
Taking Hai's hand, she headed for the exit of the hospital. She still felt shaky but she made her best not to show it. Hai would use any excuse to make her stay. As she had predicted, there were military trucks parked outside. It seemed like one of vehicles was about to go.
"Excuse me sir, are you going to Danang?" she said to the driver.
The driver looked startled by that strange girl's sudden apparition.
"Errr... yes,why?"
"Then do you mind taking both of us with you? I'm not familiar of the surroundings, I don't know where to catch a bus to the city."
He looked like he wanted to ask her what she was doing in the military hospital in the first place but he didn't. He shrugged. She didn't look like a threat.
"Okay then. Jump in."
"Thank you very much."
The trip to Danang was rather short. Once they arrived, they headed directly to their appartment. Ly started to franctically pack her things. Hai watched her with a startled expression.
"Miss Ly, what are you doing?"
"Packing. We have to leave Danang at once. We're going to Saigon. Otherwise General Hoa will find me. It's not that hard for him. And now that I have no father to protect me... god knows what he will do."
"But General Hoa is a good man, why don't you accept his offer? He promised to help both of us. Why are you doing this? I don't understand."
Big tears started to form in Hai's eyes.
"General Hoa is not a good man, Hai. Trust me."
"Good man or not he is our only chance of survival."
Hai was sniffing. She didn't understand why her mistress was turning down such an opportuniy. Ly didn't bother to answer.
"Hai, please go fetch our savings," she ordered.
The young girl was still crying but she obeyed nevertheless. She came back with a small purse. Ly opened it and started counting the money. There was just enough to pay for one plane ticket. She licked her lips. What now?
"Hai... there's not enough for both of us."
There was a silence. Ly's mind was spinning. She coudn't possibly abandon Hai, could she?
"Then... then go Miss Ly. If it's what you want."
Hai's voice was shaky. And there was something in her tone that she had never heard before. Was that... bitterness? No, she must have imagined it... Hai never was bitter.
"Thank you, Hai."
She didn't have the strenght to argue.
"I will send you money for your own ticket once I earn enough money. I promise."
The following day, Ly was flying back to Saigon, after almost one year away from her native city. She was penniless, but at least she was away from General Hoa. Now what was she supposed to do? The only decent job she was offered was as a hostess in an officers bar. She shed a few tears when the memory of her father came back to her mind. It was not what he had wanted for her. And she thought about Matthew. She hoped he was all right.
San Francisco, the same day
They were in the middle of a family dinner (or at least the closest thing to it since Matthew's departure) when the telephone rang. Peter Jones promptly got up.
"Hello? Yes, this is Peter Jones. I..."
There was silence. Alfred and his mother looked into each other's eyes. It was very unusual. Alfred's stomach tightened. He had a bad feeling about this. After an interminable moment, Peter Jones came back to the dinner table. He had tears in his eyes. Suddenly, Alfred was no more hungry. He felt the bile rising in his throat before his father even had the chance to speak.
"It was about Matthew... he's... The base he worked in was attacked. His body will be shipped back in two days. "
It was too much for Alfred. He ran to the bathroom and vomitted as soon as his knees made contact with the cold tiles. He could hear his mother's hysterical sobs and his father trying to cover them with his own voice.
"Beatrice, Beatrice please calm down... "
Alfred's teeth sunk into his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood as he tried to stifle his own screams. He punched the tiles several times as bitter tears formed in his eyes. One month. One fucking month. Matthew had lasted exactly once month before those bastards finally got him. He shakily got up and made his way back to the dining room. His father was still trying to comfort his mother.
"Beatrice... you should be proud of him... He died a hero."
Before Alfred could even stop himself, his fist made contact with the dinner table. Several plates fell to the ground, adding to the noise of his mother's hysterical crying.
"SHUT UP! He didn't die a hero! There's nothing heroic in this! He died for no fucking reason! It doesn't make any sense! THE WAR MAKES NO FUCKING SENSE!"
His father stared at him, as if he was the one who had taken the blow instead of the table.
"Alfred... don't say that. Don't say that."
"Shut up!"
Alfred was disgusted with his father. And he was disgusted with himself. He hated himself for the way he had been thinking for the past years. He had been persuaded that bombing the hell out of Vietnam was the right choice. He had been a silent supporter of Goldwater's politic. And it was only now that he realised how stupid he had been. Matthew had not died for ideological beliefs. He had died because the US government was just too proud to admit that the situation in Vietnam was hopeless. Too proud or simply too foolish. Stupid America. Always trying to be the hero. Stupid Alfred, for supporting those atrocities. Stupid Peter Jones, for still believing in those atrocities.
Alfred sank to his knees.
"If only I had not supported his project of joining the Peace Corps... then he would have gone to college with me and... he would not have..."
He looked up when he felt a small hand on his shoulder. It was Beatrice Jones'.
"Don't do that Alfred... Don't blame yourself... I could blame myself too. If we do that, it will drive us crazy."
She tried to smile through her tears. It was just like Beatice Jones, to try to act like a mother even when the world was crumbling. Alfred let himself cry.
Many people had attended the service. It had been beautiful, full of flowers and loving prayers. Everyone had said nice things about Matthew. Things they should have said when he was still alive. If he had heard all those nice things, then perhaps he would not have felt the need to join the Peace Corps in order to prove that he was someone.
No... His mother was right... if he started to think like that, he would go crazy.
That night, when Alfred lied in his bed, he felt like nothing was important anymore. He had no desire to return to Berkeley whatsoever, even if he loved it there and his grades were good. He wanted answers. He wanted to know what had happened exactly, to feel what Matthew had felt, to breath the same air as him when he took his last breath... or rather when his last breath was taken from him. He desperately needed that, or all those questions would haunt him for the rest of his life. No one had told him how it had really happened, they just knew that he had been shot. There were million of possibilies. It could have been a Viet Cong sniper, a soldier of the NVA, even "friendly" fire.
After a sleepless night, Alfed got dressed and went directly to his father's office at the Rising Sun. He didn't even bother knocking. Peter looked up from his sheet of paper, a forlorn look on his exhausted face.
"Oh... it's you Alfred. What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at Berkeley? "
It irritated him, the way his father tried to sound normal, as if his son didn't die a mere week ago.
"I don't think I'll go back there, dad."
"What? Look Alfred, I know it's hard but life must go on. You are only two semesters from graduation for heaven's sake!"
"I won't go back. Not now, not ever. I want to be a correspondent in Vietnam," he said bluntly.
Alfred watched his father's face turning red.
"What? Are you out of your mind? I will never -ever- let you do something like that. You can count on someone else's newspaper."
"You don't understand. I didn't come here to ask for permission. It's a statement. I'm going to Vietnam whether you like it or not."
"But no one will hire you!"
"I can sell my stories there and there. That's not a problem."
"Alfred... you will not do that..."
"Think you can stop me?"
Peter stared at his son. Alfred cringed. His father looked so... weak. It was the first time he noticed how pathetic he looked, the same men who had believed in bombing the hell out of Vietnam.
"Alfred... why are you doing this? Are you trying to commit suicide?"
A tear rolled down Peter's wrinkled face.
"No... I'm not. I just want answers. I can't seat on my ass here when terrible things are happening there. I have to do it. For myself."
Peter Wilson heaved a sigh.
"At least if I'm the one sending you, I can do my best to protect you."
Alfred smiled. He had won.
"Thank you dad."
"Come back to my office tomorrow. I will give you further details. And please... please don't tell your mother. I will speak to her myself."
Alfred nodded and left. The following day, his father told him all about a correspondent's life in Vietnam. He tried to dissuade him from going, but in the end he knew Alfred was determined. His trip was scheduled on February 5th. They had given him six months. Six months to find answers. Six months to seek salvation.
So, things are finally getting interesting :3 Alfred and Ly meet each other in the next chapter. What the hell is gonna happen?
