“You haven’t had breakfast yet, have you?”
“We only had time to conduct quick body searches. A company-strength combat force has already left for the village. Once the village has been cleaned out, we’ll begin the search-and-destroy sweep into the ravines.”
They went inside the bunker. Once they were seated on a field cot and ammunition crates, the sergeant commanding the company commenced his briefing.
“Right now, the company command post is here at this bridge. Two platoons crossed over the bridge yesterday and headed up into the Tungdik area. As I mentioned, another company is in process of seizing the nearby village still under air attack. One platoon is defending the bridge. Around midnight last night, we experienced an enemy attack. Fighting up in the Tungdik area turned out to be the fiercest, but the enemy was soon driven back, and we think they slipped through the ravines to the rear slope of Hill 3383. We took some mortar fire here from guerrillas across the river, and we had a firefight with others who had infiltrated from the southwest. Our casualties were two dead and five wounded. As for enemy losses, we can’t say since we haven’t secured their strongholds yet.”
“What about the tank fire?” asked the battalion commander.
“I believe there’s an engagement in the jungle in the southern Tungdik area. It’s support for those forces, sir.”
“How much longer will this take?” asked Pham Quyen.
The company leader thought for a while before responding. “The problem is the ravines, sir. Even in daytime it’s dark in there and there are a lot of natural caves. I agree with the plan to sweep in simultaneously from here and from Quang Lung, but I’m afraid one platoon from each end will not be sufficient, sir. If we can get reinforcements from another battalion equipped with armored personnel carriers, then we can mop up within a week.”
“No need for reinforcements. We have artillery support, don’t we?”
The other major responded with a question. “Pacification will be difficult with cannons alone, won’t it, sir?”
“We have to drive them off, so there’s no chance of a counterattack.”
Trucks were approaching the bridge, raising thick clouds of dust. Looking out through a shooting hole in the bunker wall, the battalion commander said, “Transport the refugees to town.”
“Yes, sir.”
Once the company commander was gone, the battalion commander asked Major Pham, “Don’t you think we’re trying for the impossible?”
“What do you mean?”
“An operation of this scale would take about a month, even with US military support. We’ll need two weeks to secure the strongholds and another two to sort out and resettle the displaced residents.”
“There’s no need for that,” Pham Quyen said firmly, “because we’ll be pulling out.”
“Pulling out, sir?” the battalion commander blurted out in shock, then murmured to himself, “Then, why undertake an operation like this. .”
Pham Quyen was silent. The battalion commander, quick-witted, said no more. When a lightning operation such as this one took place, the residents bore the brunt of the damage. The basis of their livelihood in the mountain jungles had been devastated in a few days. After the pullout there would be no compensation or countermeasures, and the NLF and the North Vietnamese Army would move in immediately and furnish medical care, help them reconstruct their villages, fuel their hatred for the ARVN and make them loyal supporters. In the present circumstances, a pullout would mean that they could never again hope to bring the area under the rule of the South Vietnamese government. Gradually, the enemy forces in the region would swell.
Outside, trucks were turning around in the open field, full of villagers who had all their shabby household goods on their backs and in their hands. They moved silently, without shouting or weeping. Even the little children never cried. The company commander came back inside.
“I feel relieved,” he said. “It’s done.”
“Was that all of the villagers?” the battalion commander asked.
“No, that’s not even half of them,” said the company commander, shrugging his shoulders. “The rest will be over there.”
He turned his head and, with his chin, pointed vaguely. Outside, the bombing seemed to have ceased and it was relatively quiet.
“Sir, shall I bring the meal in here?” An orderly said from the door of the bunker.
The company commander replied, “No, we’ll have it outside. Would you care to eat, sir?”
“Is it rations?” Pham Quyen asked.
“No, sir. I believe it’ll be something special.”
The company commander put on his helmet and they walked outside. Down the levee in the field, a fire had been built with broken ration crates and iron pots were hanging over it on a makeshift rack. The soldiers were filing past by squads to get rice and other food. There were some kitchen utensils, apparently taken from private houses in the nearby village. In the shade under some palm trees, a mat had been spread out and a table set for the officers. There was boiled chicken, pickled vegetables with nuoc mam, salad, and even a local wine sealed in earthenware urns. The wine must have been dug up from somewhere, for there was still damp clay stuck on the bottom of the urns.
“Field operations are tough, but then they sometimes have their own charm, like this,” the battalion commander said to Major Pham.
“There’s a wizard in each company who manages to conjure up some precious provisions,” the company commander remarked. “They say it takes a special nose to sniff out the wine and liquor.”
After the meal they sat there and drank a green tea the orderly had brewed over the fire. A message came in over the wireless. The company commander took the communication himself.
“We’ve got a problem, sir,” he said to the battalion commander. “During the search of the village they found a lot of civilians in the air raid shelter.”
“Can’t they be transported?”
“No, sir. We have neither the manpower nor the time. At this rate, it’ll be dark by the time the sweep through the village is over. But we can’t just leave them where they are.”
“Any precedent for this?” Pham Quyen asked.
The company commander hesitated. “If there are reserve forces or another detachment available, they can lead them over for transport, sir.”
“I’ll leave it to your discretion,” Pham Quyen said to the battalion commander.
“Shall I order a platoon to come back in from the Tungdik area, sir?”
All three men knew that that made no sense. The company was now in the middle of a village that had just been demolished. Pham Quyen came up with a phrase that fit the situation perfectly.
“Respond that evacuation will not be necessary.”
The company commander picked up the transceiver and repeated: “This is HQ, no need to evacuate. This is HQ, no need to evacuate.”
On the other end a voice said, “I read you, out.” The wireless then was cut off. The three men sat in silence for a while.
“Let’s head back to Ha Thanh.”
Pham Quyen was the first to rise. The two majors got back in their Jeeps and drove off to the east along the river. They entered the town and then stopped on the street on the way to the district office.
“I’m going on to An Hoa. I’ll see General Van Toan and return here by evening.”
“Have a pleasant trip, sir,” the battalion commander said, and then added, “I understand that the order you gave earlier was inevitable.”
Major Pham had turned to leave, but he stopped and glared back at the battalion commander. “What is that supposed to mean?” he asked. The battalion commander seemed to be passing judgment.