December 11, 1966

Titi was awakened by the rising sun. Diep and Trieu were building a fire, but Cadeo was nowhere to be seen. Thanh and Khoi were squatted over the prisoner, conferring in low voices. Titi sat up and rubbed her eyes. There was a bitter chill in the air. She wrapped her blanket around her shoulders, drew her thighs against her chest, and rested her chin on her knees.

"It is no good," Thanh was saying. "He will lose the arms if he continues like this."

"Let him lose them," Khoi said coolly. "Better that than he should escape."

"He will not escape," Thanh said firmly. "We will bind them in front today."

Khoi muttered a complaint that Titi could not hear. Thanh retorted with a chill in her voice. "You are the guide, but he is my captive. We shall do as I see fit."

As she was loosing the prisoner's bonds, Cadeo returned, having filled a small iron cooking pot with water. Rice was boiled, and the travellers ate. Thanh induced the Air Pirate to take some food and a little water. This time he did not vomit it up again—but, of course, today he did not have his joints reset shortly after the meal, either.

After they had eaten, the guerrillas doused the fire carefully and obscured their camp before setting out again. Titi discovered that she was stiff from the previous day, and walking soon became an onerous task. She found herself lagging behind. At first she walked with Khoi, who today was leading the prisoner while Thanh led the way through woods she knew well. While they walked, the lieutenant made Titi practice English phrases. Soon, however, she found herself in step with Trieu at the rear of the party. Struggling to keep pace with the others, Titi reflected that at least she was not the only one having difficulty.

The prisoner's every step was hard-won and more feeble than the last. He fell repeatedly, struggling back onto his bruised and bleeding feet again and again. His hands were bound before him as Thanh had promised, the wrists crossed. When his arms were straight, his fingers were turned outwards from his body, but he had not kept that position. He was clutching the breast of the ragged smock with his left hand, keeping both arms bent. This pressed his right hand and forearm firmly against his chest. He demonstrated many times that he would sooner land face-first in the dirt than abandon this pose. He kept his arms glued to his ribs, though he fell again and again, and after observing his movements for a couple of hours, Titi realized that his strange position must be bringing substantial relief to his broken collarbone. His lips were dry and cracking, and even breathing seemed to require great effort. The sun had just passed its zenith, and he had fallen already twenty-three times that day, when he walked into a tree.

The jungle was dense here, and so it was perhaps not surprising that he did so. Still, Titi could not help but laugh when it happened. One moment he was struggling to trot after Khoi, a strangely unbalanced figure with his arms crossed high over his chest. The next, there was a loud crack! that resounded through the understory, and the American fell backward. He landed hard upon his tailbone, his feet splaying like those of an upended child. The unexpected jerking on the lead tore it from Khoi's hand and he was loose—but too dazed to monopolize upon this lack of restraint. He sat there, hand still desperately clutching his garment, thunderstruck and disoriented.

He looked so comical with that fools' expression on his bruised face that Titi began to giggle. Cadeo and Diep joined in. Trieu, who had been walking ahead with Thanh, turned to see what had happened. Though he had not witnessed the collision, the slack-jawed, stunned look that the captive wore was adequate to make the other private laugh as well.

Khoi whirled, anger carving crevices into his handsome face. He bent to strike the captive, who tumbled into the dead leaves with a bewildered whimper. The lieutenant kicked his ribs and retrieved the line, hauling on it wrathfully to cover the fact that he had blundered and released it in the first place.

Thanh came striding back. "What is it?" she asked.

Titi explained, her amusement dampened by the hoarse cry that caught in the Air Pirate's throat as Khoi kicked him again, cursing at him in the American language. As Titi finished the account, she thought she saw a flicker of amusement in her sister's eye. Thanh reined it in carefully, however, and bent to drag the American back onto his battered feet.

They had gone perhaps a quarter of a mile more when it happened again. There was a loud impact, and down went the prisoner. Khoi had a much firmer grip on the rope now, and he was jerked backwards as the other man fell. This time, Titi had no opportunity to laugh. Khoi slapped the prisoner soundly, and then took the M-1 from his back and began to beat the bound man with the butt. The soldier was angry, his frustration mounting. More than two dozen times now the Air Pirate had fallen, and twice he had wandered into a tree. It was clearly unacceptable, and Khoi was obviously weary of it.

The wretch tried to scrabble away from the blows, in his desperation even releasing his hold on the smock to try to shield his head. Finally, he lay still, shuddering pathetically and accepting the assault. The lack of resistance cooled Khoi's temper, and he forced the criminal to his feet again.

He was stumbling worse than ever, and blood trickled through the thickly packed scabs occluding his nostrils. It must have been dripping down the back of his throat, too, for he would periodically cough in a wet and strangulated way. His whole body was quaking, and it was not even five minutes before he walked again, head first, into the bole of a nearby tree. This time, Khoi whirled upon him almost before he landed, and the fire in his beautiful black eyes made Titi step back in fright.

"Accursed American!" Khoi shouted, casting his eyes and hands towards heaven.

He reared to strike the prisoner. The American yelped in anguish as the rifle butt found a home in his back. Khoi struck again.

"Bian is right!" he cried as he beat him. "Scum! Worthless wretch!"

Shocked by the sudden tantrum, Titi stared helplessly as Khoi aggravation passed its breaking point and he continued to attack the bound man, shouting as he did so.

"Tripping and falling I could understand! But to walk into a tree? Is he blind?"

"Stop!" Thanh said sharply, staying his hand by grabbing the stock of the M-1. Khoi pulled back, tearing the weapon from her grasp, and stood, panting, perspiration beading on his forehead as he fought to control his choler.

Thanh used her foot to roll the prisoner onto his back. With her thumb, the guerilla tried to force the captive's left eye open. The socket was so swollen and bruised that this could not be done. Thanh tried the right, but it, too, was inflamed beyond such manipulation. She looked up at Khoi. "He is," she observed levelly.

Khoi cursed loudly. "We will have to carry him."

"No," Thanh said, returning the weapon to her back. "No. He will walk."

"He cannot see!" Khoi snapped. "What choice to we have?"

"Drag him," suggested Diep.

Thanh made a disgusted noise deep in her throat. "He will walk," she repeated stubbornly, slapping the captive's cheek to gauge his consciousness. He flinched and moaned. "Hold his head, Titi," Thanh instructed.

Titi squatted, planting one hand firmly on each of the prisoner's ears. His hair was greasy, stiff with dirt and blood. She gritted her teeth in revulsion.

"Hold tight," Thanh said as she unsheathed her knife. She placed her left hand firmly on the captive's face. Titi watched in horrified wonder as, very carefully, Thanh slit the skin under the captive's eye. The American cried out and tried to struggle, but he could not. The moment he moved, Cadeo dropped to kneel on the man's ankles, and Khoi seized the bound hands to render resistance impossible. The flesh spit beneath Thanh's blade, and the dark blood oozed out. It stained the Air Pirate's face and ran over Titi's fingers. Thanh cut just below the eyebrow, too, and then repeated the process on the other side. Then she cut a scrap of cloth from the hem of the smock that had belonged to Cam Lan. She used it to wipe away some of the freely flowing blood.

"The blind man can see again," she remarked, passing the rag to Titi as she rose. "Do not let them scab closed. We will take our rest now and continue when the blood has had a chance to drain."

"We cannot waste time waiting for him!" Khoi argued.

"We will lose more time halting constantly to pick him up," Thanh countered, grim annoyance in her voice. "We will wait and eat. Titi!" she said sharply. "Do not let the eyes scab over!"

Ashamed of her negligence, Titi used the rag to wipe the blood away. Thanh moved to sit on a tree root. Khoi kicked the captive's side and strode away, his resentment obvious. Kneeling by the prisoner's head, Titi bade Diep bring her a canteen of water. She drank from the tepid fluid herself, and then lifted the captive's head and held the bottle to his lips. Despite his hiss of pain as she moved him, the man drank greedily. When she took away the vessel, he cursed at her, his voice strengthened by the liquid. She knew she ought to slap him, but he was so weak and wretched that she could not bear to do it. Instead, she wetted the cloth, using it to greater effect as she washed away some of the blood and grime from his eyes. The swelling was indeed retracting a little: that of it, at least, that had been due to the bruising. Licking her lips, which were suddenly dry, Titi decided to try her English.

"You open eyes," she said. The captive did not comply. Concerned that she had phrased the command incorrectly, Titi tried again. "Open eyes!"

This time he obeyed. It took him a minute to focus on her. His mouth twitched and he mumbled something. Titi hesitated, trying to make sense of the syllables. As the captive repeated himself, she realized that he was speaking clumsy Vietnamese.

"Water, please water," he said.

"Too much water will make you ill," Titi told him.

His eyes closed again, and more blood oozed from the narrow cuts. It was running bright and thin, now. Titi wicked it away. The prisoner shook his head, almost imperceptibly. "I don't understand Viet," he mumbled.

Titi looked questioningly at Khoi, who had come silently back and was standing four feet from the captive, watching him with a predator's eye. Seeing her look, the lieutenant translated the American's words. Titi frowned.

"No water: you make sick," she tried.

His head jerked ever so slightly from side to side. "Please," he repeated in her language.

Khoi leaned forward over the Air Pirate. "So now you speak," he mused. Then he barked at the man, translating for Titi: "Give targets for coming week!"

"Fuck you, Charlie," mumbled the prisoner. Then he added, for good measure, "Albert Calavicci. Lieutenant. B-933-852. 15 June, 1934."

Titi looked helplessly at the lieutenant. "Now you ask him," he instructed.

Titi cleared her throat. "Give target coming week," she parroted.

The captive's voice was louder and more defiant now, as if he recognized Khoi's attempt to coerce him. "Albert Calavicci! Lieutenant! B-933-852! 15 June, 1934."

Titi knew what was expected. Without waiting to be told, she slapped his face. The blow fell with more force than she had intended, and his chin struck his broken collarbone. He screamed. Instinctively, Titi pressed her hand against his mouth to muffle the sound. She cried out as fire shot into her fingers and up her arm, jerking back in shock. She stared at her little brown palm, and the red marks in the web between finger and thumb where the man's teeth had clamped down on the tender flesh.

Khoi saw the blemishes, and uttered an oath. He kicked the Air Pirate with all the force in his leg. There was a hollow sound like a drumbeat as the sandaled foot knocked all of the air out of the American's lungs. Khoi raised his right foot and brought it down as hard as he could, stomping on the bound man's right shoulder. Titi could not fight the shriek of horror that burst from her lips as she scrambled away: the fracture stretched, and it seemed as if the broken bone would tear through the skin.

Robbed of wind, the prisoner could make no acknowledgement of his anguish. Khoi kicked him again, so violently that his body arced off of the ground. Thanh flew forward.

"What are you doing?" she demanded. "I have told you that he is my prisoner!"

"Your prisoner?" Khoi snarled viciously. "Your prisoner? You bind his hands before him, you tend his swollen eyes, and how does he repay these favors? How?"

He swooped on Titi and seized her wrist. Her hand was pulled upwards and thrust under Thanh's nose. The girl herself was forced onto her knees. Khoi shook her arm, his wrath deafening him to her little cry of pain.

"You see?" he bellowed at Thanh. "You see what this scum has done in repayment of your leniency?

Thanh snatched Titi's hand and stared at it. She looked at Khoi, then at the Air Pirate. Releasing Titi, she grabbed the collar around the American's neck, hauling him into a sitting position and shaking him violently. To her furious exclamations in French, Khoi added his own chastisement in the Air Pirate's mother tongue, no longer pausing to translate his words. Thanh thrust the man forward so that he was bent in the middle, leaning over his extended legs. She snatched the AK-47 from her back, and she began, violently and methodically, to beat him.

Titi turned away, unable to watch and trying desperately not to listen.

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An hour later, they were travelling again. The prisoners arms had been bound behind him once again, melded from wrists to elbows, hands already purpling. The good that had been done by cutting his eyes had been undone by the punishment for his recalcitrance and the attack on Titi. One ear was bleeding, and it was plain that he could see nothing. Thanh held the rope scarcely three finger-breadths from the knot affixing it to his collar, ensuring that, though blind, he would no longer walk into any trees. This kept him doubled up, but it was likely he would have been in that position anyhow, from pain alone. His steps were stilted, and he would shake periodically with dry heaves, having long ago brought up the water he had been given. Thanh had yanked his left arm out of its socket again, and as he moved, the dislocated shoulder wobbled in what looked like a very painful manner.

Titi tried not to watch his excruciating progress. She was exhausted, and starting to feel very ill. There was a blood blister on her hand where the Air Pirate had bitten her, and her feet were sore from the unaccustomed marching. To make matters worse, the wind was growing cold, and the sturdy cotton of her black fatigues seemed insufficient to protect her. She wished that Bian were here. Bian, at least, would have cared about her discomfort and made some attempt to raise her spirits.

She was falling farther and farther behind, struggling to keep up but unable to overcome the tired ache in her legs or the weight of the pack on her back. She was beginning to see why Cam Lan accepted a life of shame and enforced toil rather than serve as a soldier. Apart from any reluctance to kill or be killed, there were the miseries of the trail. After only two days, Titi had already experienced most of them. There was the boredom of a long and tedious march, the weariness, the aches. The cold, the mosquitoes, and since the incident with the captive had robbed Titi of any appetite during their brief halt, there was the hunger, too. She was weary and disheartened, and she wished with all her heart that she was back at home in Ap Hiep, teaching the little ones to read.

Khoi looked back over his shoulder, his eyes halting briefly on the prisoner, glittering with hatred. Then he saw Titi, now a dozen yards behind. He spoke to Cadeo softly, and the private nodded. Then the lieutenant fell back towards the rear of the party. Titi began to shiver with fear. He was coming to upbraid her for being so slow.

To her surprise, he reached out for her hand. She responded instinctively, and he drew her towards him, wrapping his other arm around her shoulder. His expression was gentle.

"You are tired," he said softly.

She nodded mutely. She was afraid to speak, lest her discouragement should show in her voice. She did not want to be thought of as a weak and complaining woman. She wanted to be strong and tireless, like Thanh and Bian.

"I am not surprised," Khoi told her as they walked. The support of his arm and the warmth of his body allowed Titi to pick up her pace a little. "This is nothing like the work you are accustomed to."

He reached for her other hand, the one the Air Pirate had bitten. He curled his fingers around it, and used his thumb to open her palm. He brushed the blister gently. "The scum," he said. "To hurt the one who gave him water."

"I do not think he meant to," Titi confessed. "He was in terrible pain. He did not know what he was doing."

Khoi raised her hand to his lips and kissed the injury. The unexpected contact made Titi shiver. The man did not seem to notice. "Bian has told me of your kind heart," he said. "Would you forgive anyone, even this stinking criminal?"

"He did not mean to do it," Titi repeated.

"And did he not mean to bomb our villages and murder our children?" Khoi asked. Strangely, there was no rancor in his voice. It was low and melodious, and his attention seemed focused on Titi, not on thoughts of the captive at all.

"I… I do not know," Titi said. "Was he not following his orders?" All good soldiers had to follow their orders. Indeed, obedience was the greatest of virtues.

"Orders?" Khoi laughed. "No, little Titi. Warriors follow orders. Criminals murder and pillage. The Air Pirate is not a soldier."

"He is not?"

"No. Look at how he cringes, moving like an animal, bent and quivering. He is not a man. He is not a soldier. He is nothing but a worthless delinquent. Scum."

It seemed to Titi that he was bent and quivering because his back and ribs had been beaten with a rifle, and that he cringed because he was afraid of being hurt again, but she did not dare to say that. It was obviously not what the lieutenant believed, and if he did not, then surely Bian and Major Quon did not, either. If it was not true for them, then it must not be true at all. Titi must be mistaken, for she was young and did not understand the world as her elders did.

"How far is it to Hanoi?" she asked softly, unable to keep an edge of despair from her voice.

Khoi reached to stroke her cheek. "Many days yet, little one," he said, almost regretfully. "When we halt again, we will see what can be done to lighten your pack," he promised. "Tomorrow night we will reach a village I know well. There we can sleep indoors for a night. You will like that, will you not?"

"Yes," Titi whispered automatically as the Air Pirate fell again. She flinched as Thanh kicked his ribs and he began to retch fruitlessly again. Khoi's encouraging embrace tightened a little as they continued through the jungle.