“Stop complaining! Ladies, you can just cuss them all and their fathers, too.”
Then arms stretch out to touch the girls’ shoulders and dresses, or caress their hair. As they walk, a crowd of soldiers follows in their wake. From a distance, the division command staff smile and watch the procession with undisguised envy. However, in their position as leaders, they have to restrain themselves, whether they like it or not. In traditional fashion, the girls split into groups of two or three to chat with the soldiers before going onstage to perform. But this time that way of engaging will not do, because the division has just been reinforced, so there are too many of them. More than a thousand soldiers jam the place, in serried ranks. The deputy troupe leader orders:
“With so many of you we cannot possibly entertain you all. I suggest the girls split into teams by province, to sing and entertain you outside of the main program. The musicians also should split likewise.”
With that, the leaders of provincial groups call out in confusion:
“Hai Hung, where are you? Follow me to the left of the stage, right next to the speaker here.”
“Hanoi, where are you? Those from the capital, go to the back of the performance stage. Be orderly, will you.”
“How about Ha Tay, land of silk? Let’s gather next to the Hanoi bunch, on the right side of the stage.”
The soldiers assemble according to their province of origin, shouting to one another, even louder than a market fair breaking up at the end of day. The deputy troupe leader is seen gesticulating to the musicians, apparently negotiating in view of some tense assignments. Thereafter, some can be seen taking their organs, others their guitars or mandolins, others yet their flutes and bamboo flutes, and going to different groups. This brings a strange sense of animation to the whole forest clearing, which normally would hear only the wind rustling the leaves, or rain pattering on the fronds, soldiers talking or arguing among themselves, or bombs exploding.
Company Commander An stands there, absentmindedly looking at the joyous crowd. Suddenly someone taps his shoulder:
“You couldn’t find your Lang Son group?”
His battalion commander is right behind him, smiling behind a pair of thick glasses.
“I report to you, Commander. I am the only one here.”
“Aren’t there a couple of ethnic Tay in Battalion 2?”
“Sir, they are Tay from Cao Bang, on the border with China. I have never set foot in their territory and they have never been to Lang Son, to visit Dong Mo, my native place.”
“Is that so? So you are all Tay, yet you live in different territories and your customs also differ. Me, I am an ethnic Vietnamese and I can’t tell who is Tay from Lang Son and who is Tay from Can Bang. They all look alike.”
“I report to you, sir, we are not all that different. But since the troupe told us to gather by province, there’s no reason for us to form a Tay group from two different battalions.”
“That’s the right principle. We cannot tolerate differentiation by ethnic group within our nation, among people who all carry the same Vietnamese nationality.”
“Yes, I understand.”
Nha, the battalion commander, pulls out some cigarettes and offers An one. On the stage, the assistant to the division commander looks around, with a loudspeaker in one hand and a notebook in the other. At a favorable moment, just as the songs stop temporarily, he yells into the loudspeaker:
“Hi, hi…Attention, please. The performance program is being delayed by one hour and a half, so the curtains will not go up until eight thirty. This is because there suddenly is a new development: we have to wait for Battalion 209, which is a reinforcement from the north. They are right now encamped on the other side of Panda Mountain. They do not belong to our division, but are an independent combat unit. However, because we are on the same battlefield we have the duty to wait for them so they, too, can enjoy tonight’s performance. In the meantime, the troupe will continue performing among the provincial groups already gathered, supplemented by local talent from our units.”
At that the soldiers all jump up, their yells ringing through the forest:
“Hurrah, hurrah…”
“Headquarters can go on delaying the performances, even until midnight. In fact, the later, the better.”
“This will be the most marvelous night in the last three years. Those who have a favorite song can start practicing it. For we have musical accompaniment and our local talent will have a chance to show off.”
Nha, the battalion commander, asks An, “Do you know how to sing?”
“I am afraid I am totally ignorant on that score.”
“Likewise here. We can then take advantage and have some rest before the curtains go up. We still have two and a half hours to go.”
Just at that moment, the division commander walks toward them, and warns loudly: “Looks like you two are thinking of slipping out of here. How can you leave a good party and waste it?”
“I report to you, sir, I don’t know how to sing. Besides, I am nearly fifty and my vertebral column is not standing up well.”
“Am I any younger than you?” retorts the division commander.
Indeed, he is older than Nha by a few years, but being a fisherman originally, he still shows an abundance of energy. And despite all the ravage of the war and years, he still has rippling muscles. His shoulders are broad and even and, because he is not very tall, his build is almost square. Whenever he walks by the side of the battalion commander, he is often compared by the literate soldiers with Sancho Panza walking with Don Quixote, his superior. Instead of being upset, he would return the compliment:
“They say, first comes the look, second the air, third the voice, fourth the appearance. You outshine me on the last item but I am better than you on the third one. That’s why I am a division commander while you only command a battalion.”
It’s true that when it comes to voice, no one can best him. And not just in the division. In the whole front, where four divisions are in place, no one can mistake his voice. If he were a tenor, his voice could break many layers of glass. His voice is stentorian, the kind of voice that has been trained through many generations of yelling over the waves. You have only to listen to him speak to know right away that he is the kind “who can stand firm and even melt stone.” That is why the battalion commander replies without hesitation:
“Oh, you are old but you belong to the type that is both old and tough. You are not an empty crab shell like me.”
The division commander has to give up: “I raise my arms and surrender.”
The battalion commander continues to tease him: “You being tough, you should stay and compete in singing with the young ones. Please pardon such brittle-boned and flabby guys like the two of us.”
So saying, Nha drags An away. But whereas Nha goes back to the underground compound to grab some more sleep, An quietly goes to the stream for a bath. This immense stream is even better-looking than the one in his home village. They call it a stream but it is no less broad and long than a true river and it flows into the largest river in the region. The stream water is crystal-clear and it does not display any moss or bronze color as in the case of more poisonous mountain runs. The rocks on its bank are clean and shining, well fitted for one to lie on or for drying one’s clothes on sunny afternoons when the sun beats down on them. The banks of the stream are gently sloped and filled with white shining pebbles. If one hikes up less than one hundred meters one runs into Elephant Thundering Falls, which, with its ten-meter drop, makes the stream below churn like boiling water. Oftentimes playful soldiers break off dry branches and throw them in the cascade. The branches are immediately carried away, turning in the process into arrows sharp enough to pierce anyone trying to wade across. Each time he comes here, An’s reminiscences arise inside him. He shakes off his clothes and begins to wade into the stream. But when he is about up to his knees in the bubble-filled water he suddenly feels a chill. He returns to the bank and puts on his clothes. Is there a ghost who happens to be around and forces him out of the water? Or is it a premonition of things to come? He doesn’t know. No one can understand everything we do during all our time on earth. But this time, he feels absolutely confident that an invisible power has pushed him to action.