Part 20 (1/2)
9.
Lieutenant David Hawke watched intently through one of the side windows of the little single-engined ”gra.s.shopper” as eight other OSS men tumbled from the open door of the C-46 transport up ahead and plummeted down towards the terraced mountainside rice fields of Tongking seventy-five miles northwest of Hanoi. He held his breath until all their chutes had opened, then turned to peer out through the winds.h.i.+eld over the pilot's shoulder as the L-5 went into a banked turn. Ahead lay another stretch of jagged karst hills and valleys smothered with jungle, and he scrutinized the wild landscape anxiously for signs of a level clearing.
”They told me when they lured me into this outfit, captain, that they wanted guys who were 'calculatingly reckless,'” he said, turning to grin wryly at Joseph Sherman. ”But if you want my view, I think there's too much recklessness involved here and not enough calculation. Unless I see it with my own eyes I won't believe this flying matchbox can actually get down there in one G.o.dd.a.m.ned piece and take off again.”
Joseph smiled as he watched the crates of bazookas, machine guns, carbines and grenades launchers tumble earthwards from the door of a second C-46 behind them, ”Don't worry, Dave, any man in the Fourteenth could stroll in and out of here with his eyes closed.”
The young American pilot at the controls grinned at the compliment as he eased the little plane towards the treetops, searching intently ahead for the first sight of the unmarked clearing hacked out of the jungle by the Viet Minh guerrillas. It was the Last day of July 1945, and behind them the sun was already touching the western peaks of the mountains; somewhere in the dense rain forest below was the new secret headquarters of the Viet Minh League, the target of a ten-man OSS Special Operations team which Joseph was leading. Code-named the ”Deer Mission,” its task was to train and arm the Viet Minh for sabotage attacks against roads and railways linking Hanoi with j.a.panese bases in southern China. Since March the Allies had gradually forced the Imperial Army onto the defensive, but it had so far shown no signs of collapsing as. .h.i.tler's forces had finally done in Europe in early May. Consequently a long, hard Allied fight to subdue j.a.pan was still in prospect, and a top-level order had gone out from the White House to ”help anybody who will help us shoot at the j.a.panese.”
Unexpectedly a little natural clearing that had been enlarged to a length of a hundred and fifty yards, opened up below the plane, and Lieutenant Hawke let out an exclamation of disbelief when he spotted a little group of guerrillas gathered at one end. ”It's not much bigger than a G.o.dd.a.m.ned football field,” he gasped as the pilot waggled his wings and began turning to make a final approach. ”I think I'd rather jump, captain - is there a chute on board?” The boyish features of the twenty-three-year-old Bostonian law graduate were flushed with excitement, and his easy grin belied his exaggerated expressions of alarm. He had completed a crash course in Annamese at the University of California only six months before and had been recruited into the OSS as an interpreter while still at Berkeley. ”Did you spot 'Lucius' among the welcoming party, captain?” he asked, turning eagerly to Joseph again. ”I'm sure looking forward to clapping eyes on him.”
”I didn't see him. The last radio message said he's down with fever again. He drives himself hard and his health is poor.”
”He's a real Chinese puzzle, that old guy, isn't he? Every American who's dropped in to work with him in the last few months raves about his 'gentleness' and his 'sweet nature.' But there wasn't anything gentle about the way he closed off Tongking to the Free French agents, was there? Marching the one Frenchman we sent in back to the border and threatening to snipe at any others who came in or starve them out didn't seem like the actions of a gentle old guy to me.”
”The Annamese have good reason to hate the French, David,” said Joseph quietly. ”I don't think you'll find it too hard to sympathize with them when you've talked to Lucius' and some of the others.”
As the L-5 pa.s.sed over the treetops at the edge of the clearing, the pilot let it drop like an elevator, and it touched down and humped to a standstill with twenty yards to spare. When Joseph climbed out, he recognized instantly the dapper little Annamese with the shock of dark hair who stepped smartly forward to greet him at the head of the small welcoming party of guerrillas.
”We're glad to welcome you back again, Captain Sherman,” said Vo Nguyen Giap, speaking French, and smiling as he extended his hand. ”1 trust you've recovered from your injuries.”
”I'm fine now, thank you, 'Monsieur Van,' replied Joseph using Giap's OSS code-name. ”My leg's still a little stiff, but it's nice to be back with you standing on my own two feet. How's everything here?”
”All the Americans who parachuted in have landed safely. My men have gone down the valley to help them collect the supplies and guide them back to camp.”
”And how is Monsieur Ho?”
Giap's face clouded with concern. ”He's gravely ill, captain. Walking to and from Ching Hsi in the rains has badly sapped his strength. Have you brought a doctor with you?”
Joseph shook his head. ”No but one of the men who jumped in is a medical orderly and he's carrying drugs and medicines with him.”
”Perhaps he could make an examination the moment he arrives,” replied the Annamese, then turned and led the way quickly Out of the clearing along a narrow jungle trail.
The guerrilla encampment, a huddle of crude stilted huts thatched with palm leaves, had been set up on the side of a hill in a dense bamboo forest close to the Kim Lung gorge, and as soon as the OSS parachutists arrived, Giap showed Joseph and the young medical orderly into one of them. They found Ho lying in a corner, trembling violently; he had become very thin, his skin had turned a sickly yellow color and he was moaning and crying aloud in a semiconscious state of delirium, obviously incapable of recognizing anyone.
”I spent all last night with him,” whispered Giap to Joseph as the young OSS medic bent to examine the Annamese. ”In between his comas he spoke with great urgency of what the Viet Minh League still must do. Every time he thought of something, he urged me not to forget it. I'm afraid that he believed they were his dying thoughts.”
They watched grim-faced as the medic completed his examination. When he stood up his face was resigned.
”What's wrong with him, private?” asked Joseph tersely.
”Malaria and dysentery for sure. But he's probably suffering from half the tropical diseases in the book, I guess it's just a matter of time.”
”Can't you do anything for him?”
”I can give him quinine and sulfur if he'll hold still long enough -but I don't promise any miracles.”
”Okay,” snapped Joseph, staring down at the skeletal figure. ”Go ahead.”
When the medic had prepared the syringe he knelt to inject the drugs into Ho's scrawny upper arm, but the Annamese suddenly began to struggle violently and the needle of the syringe snapped.
”Let me do it!” commanded Joseph impatiently, dropping to his knees. ”Prepare a new syringe.”
Taking the struggling Annamese by the shoulders, he leaned close to him. ”Please listen carefully. I'm Joseph Sherman. I've brought American medicine from Kunming. You're not going to die.” He spoke slowly in English, enunciating his words with great precision and keeping his own face in the center of the dying man's vision. ”Please let me help you.”
Almost immediately the rolling eyes grew still, and the Annamese ceased to writhe on the mat. Joseph signaled for the new syringe to be placed in his open hand, and he injected its contents into Ho's biceps at a spot indicated by the medic. For a minute or two he continued to kneel by the mat holding the clammy hands that gripped his own convulsively, then when they went limp, lie stood up.
”Stay with him right through the night,” he told the medic. ”I'll look in from time to time.”
Outside the hut Giap searched Joseph's face with anxious eyes. ”Do you think there's any possibility he'll recover, Captain Sherman?”
”We can only hope and pray he'll respond to the drugs,” said Joseph. ”But my medic thinks you must be prepared for the worst.”
All around them the Annamese guerrillas were dragging into camp the heavy crates of armaments and explosives that had been scattered across the rice paddies in the wake of the OSS parachutists, and Giap excused himself to give orders for storing the weapons. One of his lieutenants showed the OSS men to a separate group of new bamboo-floored huts in front of which a fire had already been lit, and after was.h.i.+ng in a fast-flowing stream nearby, Joseph returned to his hut to find the appetizing smell of roasting meat wafting across the darkened clearing.
”We slaughtered a cow in honor of your arrival, Captain Sherman,” said a friendly voice, speaking French, and Joseph looked up to find an Annamese standing in the doorway. ”We thought our newly arrived American comrades-in-arms should enjoy their favorite dish - steak on their first night with us.”
Joseph stared at the face of the man, transfixed. Although he was in his early thirties, his delicate features were still, like many of his race, childlike, almost feminine, and in the gentle orange glow of the camp fire a fleeting hint of the beauty which Lan and her brothers had inherited from their mother stirred Joseph's emotional memory. For an instant the image of Lan's modestly lowered eyelids and the curve of her cheek glowing like warmed honey in the light of the Nam Giao sacrificial pyres flashed into his mind's eye, and he stepped forward impulsively and shook Tran Van Kim's hand with unwarranted warmth.
It's been a long time, Kim, When I last saw you, you were whipping the French tennis champion in Saigon.”
A wistful smile illuminated Kim's face. ”That seems like part of another life now, captain. When my uncle, Dao Van Lat, told me he'd met you again at Pac Bo, I remembered with embarra.s.sment I had not been very courteous to you at the Cercle Sportif.”
”Don't worry about that,” Joseph laughed and patted him on the shoulder. ”I asked Lat how your family were, but he said you hadn't had any contact with them for many years.”
Kim nodded his confirmation, his expression sad. ”That's right. Unfortunately I fell out with my father. He believed our future lay with France - perhaps he still does. I've had to sacrifice my family ties to the struggle for freedom.”
”And you haven't heard how Lan is? Or whether she married?”
”Distant friends told me she married a Frenchman.”
”Was it Captain Devraux?”
Kim shook his head a little impatiently. ”I'm sorry, I don't really know. I expect she made the marriage to please my father.. . . But perhaps we should talk of more important things, captain.” He took Joseph's arm, beckoned to the other Americans and led them to a rough bamboo table near to the fire where the food had been set out. He ordered the meat to be served to the Americans, but took only bean sprouts and rice himself. ”In the seven months since you first visited us, Captain Sherman, our forces have expanded greatly,” he said as they ate. ”We've got three thousand guerrilla fighters under arms now, and since the French were imprisoned we've won control of the six northernmost provinces of Tongking. All this region is our 'liberated zone,' and Hanoi is only seventy miles away. We've got better armaments too from abandoned French stores, but we're very eager to learn how to use the wonderful new weapons you've brought us At that moment Vo Nguyen Giap joined the circle and, with Lieutenant Hawke acting as interpreter, began to discuss the training program with the OSS weapons instructors. Towards the end of the meal, some captured j.a.panese beer was produced, and light-hearted toasts were drunk to victory over the country where it was brewed. As the group broke up to go to their huts, Joseph took Tran Van Kim by the arm and drew him to one side. ”When you won your tennis final in Saigon, Kim, you were a convinced Communist, weren't you? Are you still?”
The Annamese shook his head vigorously. ”Only the French and the Chinese spread propaganda that the Viet Minh League is Communist - because the French still dream of ruling us again one day and the Chinese are trying to set up their own puppet nationalist party here. Uncle Ho has said many times he no longer favors revolution. Once he believed in Communism, but he will tell you himself he's realized now that such ideals are impractical for our country. I share his new beliefs. Now it will be up to the people to decide the form of government they want. You can call us republican nationalists, if you like. If the people want to keep the emperor as a const.i.tutional monarch without real power, we won't object.”
”But what about the rest of the Viet Minh League? How many Communist members do you have?”
Kim grinned slowly. ”How many different parties were there in America, captain, when you were fighting for independence from the British? Ninety percent of the people of Tongking support us, and most of them are uneducated peasants who understand nothing of politics. But they're all patriots who understand very well the words 'liberty' and 'independence' - and that's what all of us are fighting for.”