THE UNKNOWN BROTHER-IN-LAW
1
According to an announcement from division staff, the entertainment that evening would not start until 7:00 p.m. But dinner had been moved up from 4:00 to 3:30. After eating, the soldiers gather in large numbers in front of the stage, noisily chatting, with all the excitement of men who haven’t seen women in a long time. Some greedy fellows still have in hand a big chunk of burned rice, which they crunch while expectantly looking up at the curtains as if they would like to find behind those garish veils their “dream princesses.” Actually, those princesses are still having dreams in the trenches of the command post, partly because of fatigue after the long trip, partly because they all have a pale complexion and white lips due to malaria and thus they have no interest in showing themselves to people without makeup. They all sleep rolled up with one another like silkworms hanging on a board, trying to catch a few more hours before they have to appear onstage. The division command promises to wake them up at 5:30. But well before five, the soldiers outside are already yelling:
“Fairy ladies, why are you sleeping so much? You haven’t been to see us for several years, how can you have the heart to go on sleeping?”
“Little ones, wake up. We have been waiting and waiting for this day.”
“Where are you, princesses? Let us have a glimpse of your beauty.”
All these calls and shouts, the teasing and joking, get so loud that the women cannot go on sleeping, so they get up. Every one of them keeps yawning so hugely that their jaws nearly go out of joint. The assistant to the division commander clears his throat several times before putting his head inside the trench:
“Please be understanding, the soldiers haven’t seen even the shadow of a woman in a long while now. More than three years have gone by without a troupe coming here.”
The deputy head of the troupe responds, “It’s the same wherever we go, you don’t have to worry. The battlefronts are too far apart and there are not enough troupes to entertain them.”
“Thank you, the division is lucky to have you. Now the cooks are bringing you dinner so that you can have something before you put on your makeup.”
“Where is the troupe leader?”
“She has eaten with the commanding officers out there. So have the male actors.”
The deputy head of the troupe turns back and yells, “You see? We were privileged to go on sleeping. Everyone else has eaten and is setting up the stage. Anyone who wants to yawn, go ahead and yawn, then we will get ready for dinner.”
The actresses do not have time to respond, for the cooks are already coming in with their clanging pots and pans. They feel lucky, as if they have found some gold, for they are privileged to see the girls first, when the latter have not yet even put on their cosmetics. Needless to say, they feel at home, for if they were strangers to one another they would have to be entertained in the sitting room; only close friends or relatives could have the right to go into the kitchen:
“Today we specially prepared banana flower salad mixed with chicken and we made mung bean pudding to give you a treat. We hope you enjoy it.”
“Thank you, friends. With this pudding we will be so much more graceful in our dancing.”
The girls gather to have dinner while the three cooks sit around. Finally, the assistant looks at his watch then asks:
“It’s five twenty already. How long do you need to do makeup and change into your costumes?”
“Twenty-five minutes, not more.”
“Bravo, I will let the guys know.”
He leaves. In a blink one can hear loud clapping of hands and shouts coming from the soldiers.
The deputy troupe leader smiles. “They are fine, the guys in this division.”
Another girl rejoins, “They are all northerners.”
“Right.”
A second girl joins in: “They have been waiting for us partly because they want to see a fine performance but also because they wish to see people coming from their native provinces. I heard that the last troupe to visit them a few years back was a folksong group from Interzone Five.”
“Where’s Interzone Five?”
“What an ignorant girl! You have been serving in the army for the last five or six years and yet you can’t even tell the differences between the military zones.”
“Whoever asks doesn’t know. We just go where we’re told. Everywhere we go, all we see are springs and woods…Woods and springs, then springs and woods. After a Van Kieu village, we would go to a lowland Lao village, then to an upland one. Everywhere we go all we do is follow the walking stick of the guide between two locations.”
“Same here, I have no idea what an interzone is. Everywhere we go, all we do is to look at the backside of whoever is in front.”
“You’d be lucky to be able to see the behind of the guy in front. Do you remember the time we went up Monkey Piss Mountain? The slopes were like cliffs, the sole of the guy in front touched the head of the person who followed. No chance then to watch the guy’s behind or ass.”
“Yah, that was terrible, that time. Clouds wrapped all around us, and we had to climb as if we were blind. It was good karma inherited from our ancestors that kept us all from falling down into an abyss.”
The girls have yet to finish changing when the assistant to the division commander can be heard clearing his voice outside. The deputy troupe leader announces: “Exactly another seven minutes.” Then she turns to her companions: “Come on, gals, quicker. The guys out there are causing a riot. This division must have been stuck in this deep jungle for much too long. These soldiers are not as patient as the last ones we entertained.”
“I guess. Last time, they did not yell in confusion like today.”
“Well, as I have said, they have been imprisoned here too long.”
“But here is where?”
“Who knows? I heard from the commander that we are in Laos. And far into the Laos jungle at that.”
“Is that so? It’s all mountains and forests everywhere you look. If one gets lost here, one’s bones will have a new home. There is no finding a way back.”
“That’s for sure. But we each have our fate when it comes to dying or living, so why worry? Only when all the soldiers die will we run into a sad fate. We performers are the spice of their lives, true gold in war. No one will let us get lost.”
After making up and changing into stage dresses, the girls file out of the trenches. The soldiers crowding on the two sides of the tunnel’s leading to the performing stage clap their hands and shout vociferously:
“Hey, pretty fairies, why don’t you say something so we can hear your northern accent?”
The deputy troupe leader smiles right and left and asks, “What can we say?”
That is enough for the soldiers to begin talking all at once:
“Say anything…Or you can even give a shout.”
“Darling, we are from Hai Hung. All you have to do is to call out ‘Oh, Hai Hung!’ That would be enough to soothe us.”
“What do you mean, calling out just Hai Hung? How about Hanoi, Ha Tay, Ha Bac, Vinh Phu: our home provinces? Are these provinces just for dogs? How selfish!!”
“And how about Hai Phong? If you forget the city of the red flame tree, American bombs will get you all.”