“Oh, all right, twenty-five thousand.”
With this assent from the lieutenant, Yong Kyu made a signal to Toi with his eyes, whereupon Toi took out a bundle of bills and started to count out the initial payment.
Stapley stood up and said, “Look, this is my business. Don’t be spending your money.”
“Hey, hippie,” Yong Kyu said, pointing at Stapley, “you just sit tight. What little cash you have you’ll be needing to open that pottery shop in Tibet.”
Once Toi had handed over the money to the lieutenant, the latter quickly handed it to his father, who began slowly counting it out one bill at a time.
“Now, let me go over the tricks to get you on board,” the officer said.
“What are you talking about?” Yong Kyu asked, his voice showing irritation. “You mean you won’t be taking him aboard yourself?”
“Let’s hear him out,” Stapley said.
“You know where we dock, don’t you? The outer port, what you people call Monkey Mountain, but the real name is Bai Bang. Have you been to that cargo terminal?”
“Yes, I know it.”
It was the landing where Yong Kyu had first set foot on Vietnamese soil. But when he shipped out they would arrange for a launch to pick him up at a pier downtown and take him out to the middle of Da Nang Bay.
“There’s a barricade in the navy cargo yard. The American forces, Vietnamese forces, and foreign ships each have their separate and exclusive areas. Boarding will have to be done after eleven tonight. After lights out, everyone will be in their cabins except the petty officer on deck duty and one guard team. At the entrance to the pier there’s a sentry post. The American shore patrol is on guard at another checkpoint inside, but they usually are watching their own separate gate. I’ll wait at our sentry post. Then he’ll walk with me toward the ship and climb up on the deck with me. That’ll be it. I’ll arrange a place for him to sleep on board.”
“Hey, that sounds simple enough!” Stapley shouted in excitement.
Toi and Yong Kyu asked simultaneously, “What about his clothes? Will he be all right as is?”
“What’s the matter with this outfit?”
Stapley, his hair and beard now long, slowly looked down at the T-shirt and blue jeans he had on. “I’ll just take this off,” he said, touching the pendant around his neck.
“Can you get an American navy uniform?”
“If need be, I can go get one right now.”
“A navy blue shirt over blue jeans and a blue hat will be good enough,” Yong Kyu said. “Still, that beard and hair would never meet navy regulations.”
“Exactly. Better get them cut.”
The lieutenant agreed with Yong Kyu, but Stapley stepped back and protested.
“No way. That’s why I’m running away. Nobody touches my beard. When I get to Saigon, I shouldn’t smell like a soldier or sailor. Passing by the sentry post, that’s done in the blink of an eye.”
Toi and Yong Kyu exchanged looks. Stapley had a point there.
“All right, but get some work clothes and put on a hat to cover the hair.”
“I’ll meet you tonight at ten o’clock at the Vietnamese navy gate. Now, everything is settled, right?”
The lieutenant shook hands with Stapley. Yong Kyu, Toi, and Stapley came out of the kitchen and went up to Stapley’s room.
“Phew, it stinks in here,” Yong Kyu said, holding his nose.
“Don’t complain. It’s the true odor of a human being. I barely get a chance to take a shower once in three days. And when I do, I just get a little splash from a bucket in the back yard.”
“Clean up the room, too.”
They looked down at all of the things Stapley had piled up: dirty plates, bowls, chopsticks, cans, a hotplate, and so on. All his clothes were in a bundle at the corner of the iron bedframe. Stapley sat down on the bed and Toi and Yong Kyu sat in the wooden chairs.
“Toi and I will see you get to the pier tonight,” Yong Kyu said.
“When I get out of this country, I’ll write to you from the first port I reach,” Stapley said.
“Leon wanted to come and say goodbye, but we wouldn’t let him.”
“He’ll win the bet.” Stapley acted like a man who had departed Vietnam long ago. “If not for the war, I wouldn’t mind living here in one of the seaside villages.”
“Right, thanks to American tourists like you, before long this place will soon become a hell of a place to live. You’ll turn round and round a few times and then end up back in your own country.”
“Ah, don’t tell me horror stories like that.”
“We’ll be back tonight. In the meantime, get some sleep.”
At nine that night, Ahn Yong Kyu and Toi drove over again to pick up Stapley. Instead of the van, they had deliberately taken the sergeant’s army Jeep, keeping the canvas top up. It was Toi’s idea, to get through from the smokestack bridge to Bai Bang without any strict inspection from the guards at the checkpoints. Toi was dressed in his army uniform and Yong Kyu had on his jungle fatigues. When they got there, Stapley was waiting with a small vinyl bag. He wore a navy work shirt and a blue work hat with a warrant officer’s insignia on the front. The beard posed a little problem, but he might conceivably pass for a seaman just back from a long voyage.
Stapley was not in a mood to talk much. They drove up White Elephant Street, passed the oil tanks with the Shell markings, and headed down toward the bridge. The area was lit up like broad daylight. Briefly, they stopped at the guard post and a Vietnamese QC came out with the American guard. Toi raised his hand to wave, and the guard recognized him and with a smile lifted the barricade. At the Bai Bang entrance they had to pass through another inspection checkpoint at the three-way junction leading to the pier and the naval headquarters, but made it through and headed down along the shore. On the left side there was nothing but the ocean and some barren yellow dunes, and the searchlights set up at intervals shone all the way to the pier standing ahead in the distance. Offshore, navy vessels and patrol boats of various sizes were blinking their signal lights. One of the searchlights whipped by and then slowly licked the surface of the water.
“Let’s stop up here.”
Toi pressed on the brakes. They pulled the Jeep to the side of the road and got out, then walked down toward the asphalt square at the entrance to the pier. A high wire fence had been set up and there were indeed two gates side by side. On the right gate, “Stop!” was written in red, and on the left “Dung Lai” in yellow. Yong Kyu said to Stapley, “It’s the left entrance over there. Do you see the sentry post?”
“Thanks. Now you two should head on back.”
“No, we’ll keep a lookout from here. Looks like the ship is up there by the red signal light.”
“Hurry up,” Toi said, “it’s ten now.”
When Yong Kyu extended his hand, Stapley didn’t shake it but instead removed the wooden pendant from around his neck and put it in Yong Kyu’s hand.
“Bye.”
Stapley gave Yong Kyu a friendly pat on the back and twisted his knuckle on Toi’s cheek.
“Good luck.”
Without looking back, Stapley walked out toward the gate. Every so often the searchlight glided by just offshore with a sudden flash. Toi and Yong Kyu stood there with cigarettes in their mouths and watched. From that point forward, everything happened in little more than an instant.
Stapley’s tall and lean figure approached the left gate and he exchanged a few words with the guard. Presently, the lieutenant appeared and went inside the sentry post. Then, an American SP emerged from the sentry post at the American gate on the right side. His white helmet was visible. He went over to Stapley and seemed to be asking some questions. Then, another American SP came outside and walked over outside the fence separating the two gates. Stapley walk around with the American guards, who seem to ask more questions. Then, suddenly, Stapley took off s running toward the pier. They could hear someone shout “Hey!” and what followed was distinctly audible even from where they were: “Come back! Stop! Stop!” then the sound of gunfire. Toi and Yong Kyu saw Stapley fall but could see nothing more.