Authors: Travis Stone
37
Thong
Nhut
Boulevard
, 0635
D
anny pushed through the herd-like crowd, aware of the sensation
building in the pit of his gut: a duality of excitement and apprehension.
All he wanted
was to get to Amai, his desire fanatical. He hoped everything was still okay
between them, fearing that his own pigheadedness might have cost him the woman
he loved.
He swung his
body into Amai's building and ran up the steps.
Will she be
making dinner?
He thought.
He imagined her
running to him; throwing her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck
and kissing him - kissing him.
He pushed open
her still broken door and it creaked back, releasing the smell of trapped
humidity. He went in and called out. No one answered. Amai wasn't there. He
stopped by the bed and saw that the potted-plant had yellowed and wilted. Amai
would not neglect it. He went to the window and opened it. The light breeze
caught the bed's mosquito-net, which billowed like mist.
Danny felt a
building dread. Had General Loan harassed her again? Had she been arrested?
Forced to move? Had she been told he was never coming back? Who even knew?
Oh my God; Is
she okay?
Footsteps on the
stairs lifted his heart.
Amai?
But the
movements were heavy: boots trotting rapidly up, purposefully thumping each
step. It was not Amai; she did not wear boots.
The boots' owner
soon revealed himself as a big, uniformed man with a black eye. Danny
recognized him, but couldn't immediately place him. Then it clicked: the man
was Captain Nash from Military Intelligence. Danny recalled the grilling he had
received at the Grand Hotel.
Nash looked
angry. He came straight up to him, glaring with his good eye. 'Happy New Year,
Danny.'
Danny picked-up
the disdain in Nash's voice. 'So it is, Captain. What's going on here?'
'I'd like to ask
you the same question. The DIA banned you from the country. How the hell'd you
get back in?'
Danny looked
past Nash to the stairs. If he ever wanted to see Amai again, he had to get
away from Nash. 'You've got no authority to stop me doing anything.' Danny
tried to go around him.
Nash blocked
him. 'Not so fast cowboy. I want you to tell me where Amai is - right fucking
now.'
'You tell me.'
Nash snarled.
'She's Viet Cong you idiot. She's been wreaking havoc in the last couple of
days.'
Danny felt
off-balance. 'You got proof-'
'You gullible
asshole. That little slut's had her dirty yellow pussy all over town, fucking
the shit out of anyone who's got something the enemy wants-'
Nausea welled in
Danny's gut. 'What
proof
do you have, Nash?'
Nash's big hand
shoved him backwards.
'Don't push me,
asshole-'
Nash yanked
Danny's satchel from his shoulder. 'You're in
Saigon
illegally. I need to search this.'
Danny was
gutted; his hopes of finding Amai dashed. He suddenly wanted to hit Nash, but
Nash was big and tough and would relish the opportunity to knock him out.
Danny wondered
what Nash would do.
* * *
Nash was stressed to breaking point.
His run of
failures had ruined his Military career. He would not make Major in this war;
he would be lucky to remain a Captain, and it was all because of Amai.
Nash fished
inside Danny's satchel. 'Maybe you're working with her?' He said. 'Maybe
you're
a fucking communist?'
'That's
private.' Danny took a step toward him. 'Stay out of it-'
Nash held Danny
at arm's length and dumped the satchel's contents onto the floor.
Danny sat on the
edge of the bed. 'I'll report this to General Westmoreland-'
'Shut your
fucking mouth.'
Nash knelt to
inspect the pile. In it were a camera, two lenses, black film canisters, and
two stapled leaves of paper.
'What's this?'
Nash picked up the pages and realized that it was a typewritten news article,
yet to be wired Stateside. He looked at Danny. 'This document's illegal-'
'You can't
control the press, Nash.'
Danny spoke with
venom, but Nash felt nothing but contempt for him. Nash stood. 'You're banned
from the country; you're nothing but a parasite-'
Danny stood.
'You're the parasite here you blind fool.'
'Sit the fuck
down.'
Danny did and
Nash began to read:
Attn - Chief Editor
The ******** Times
Danny Thorn
VIET-NAM: YOUTH-AN-ASIA
General William. T. Sherman
once said that "War is hell". This statement holds little meaning for
American youth - unless they have been to
Viet Nam
.
Viet Nam
is hell in every
sense of the word. But should we even be there?
All the people of
Viet Nam
want is their independence,
and freedom from oppression; just as a young
America
did in 1776.
Their pride in nationhood is every bit as strong as
America
's was in our
early days of struggle.
What many people do not
realize - and this included myself until recently - is that over 80% of
Viet Nam
's entire
population is in support of Ho Chi Minh. He is widely considered, in this
country, to be the George Washington of his time.
John F. Kennedy, in his
inauguration address said: "We will pay any price, bear any
burden, meet any hardship, support any friend, oppose any foe, to assure the
survival and success of liberty.”
Let me tell you; the price
of one American boy for ten Vietnamese boys is too higher price to pay. It is
too bigger burden to prop up the American installed, South Vietnamese
government. And it is criminal to stop the process of democratic elections,
just to serve our own purposes.
This is the corruption and
death of liberty.
It is inexplicable that we
should send our youth to
Vietnam
to slaughter their youth; to burn them alive
in napalm and hell-fire. Picture yourself burning alive for a second; imagine
the searing pain and agony. Picture your children burning to death. Now ask
yourself: why are we doing this to the Vietnamese in their own country?
The respect for life here is
the lowest I've ever seen; American soldiers seeing the Vietnamese as
sub-human, as Nazis did of Jews, and Jews do of Arabs. Our youth are
brainwashed into using this racist state to mask and justify the atrocities
that are committed daily and en-masse, here in
Viet Nam
.
We already know that a high
ranking source in the military's upper echelon believes: “Unless a more
positive and more stirring theme than simple anti-Communism can be found, the
war appears likely to go on until someone gets tired and quits, which could
take generations. The best course of action would be the dignified withdrawal
from
Viet
Nam
,
as soon as possible.”
Nash could see
what Danny was trying to do. This was why he loathed reporters; an article like
this only gave strength to the enemy.
They,
Nash thought.
Shouldn't be allowed to interfere in Military
business.
He glared at
Danny over the page. 'You're full-of-shit, asshole.'
His eyes fell
back to the words.
General Sherman was right:
War is hell.
Napalm, agent-orange, crop
destruction, carpet-bombing, concentration camps called hamlets: it all amounts
to youth-an-asia. Why? What is it all for?
The architects of this
'counter-insurgency' and 'Limited warfare' policy, cultivate the image of the
American patriot, fighting pajama clad terrorists, where the objective is not
to defeat the enemy, but to win the people's hearts-and-minds.
I can assure you that our
current action is far from winning the hearts-and-minds of anyone.
If General Westmoreland
thinks we are winning based on 'Body count', then he is sadly ill-advised, as
fresh enemy youth come in their thousands, flooding down the Ho Chi Minh Trail
and into the sandals of those we euthanize.
To say that 'the end
justifies the means' is madness; for the 'means' is nothing more than a
sickening waste of young life: Youth-an-asia.
And as for 'the end' - what
exactly is our goal?
For our great nation - the
United States
of America
- to say, (in the words of the president) 'Our mission is peace', and then use
lies to justify oppression, bombing, and slaughter - is an outrage.
It is becoming obvious
however, that
Viet
Nam
holds one great advantage over
America
in this conflict: their youth are ready to
die for their country, because they are fighting for national liberation.
What are we fighting for?
The truth, as sad as it is,
is that the
United
States of America
is engaged in an unjust, illegal war; the purpose for which is
as unclear as the motivations of the current administration. It is ultimately
they who plant these seeds of hate.
The only way that this
reporter can see to save the lives of our youth, and to save a country that we
are destroying, is to stand up and say no to the war in
Viet Nam
.
We must remember that the
government of our nation is at fault here; not the young men, women, boys and
girls, that they coerce into this youth-an-asia disguised as patriotism.
Danny Thorn
Foreign Correspondent
Saigon
,
Vietnam
Nash thought:
Are
we on the wrong side of this war?
He rammed the
idea out of his mind.
It's crap,
he told himself.
America
is the bringer of justice. These gooks are communist scum.
Nash screwed up
the article and shoved it in his pocket. 'I'm afraid this will have to be
censored.'
Nash heard footsteps
on the landing and turned. Someone came into the room. It wasn't Amai, just
another skinny gook.
'Hold it,' Nash
said. 'Stop right there.'
Then there was a
loud bang and Nash felt a burning sensation deep in his chest.
38
B
lood from the firefight had stained the pavement outside Triet's
headquarters crimson.
Amai came away
from the window and dropped face-down on the bed. The oil conspiracy had
changed everything.
Until last
night, her mind had been made up; she had been committed to reporting the
Tet-offensive to the Americans. But now she was not sure what to do.
Was it true that
Ho Chi Minh had made such a deal with the
United States
? Did he accept US weapons? Did he agree to let an American company
into
Vietnam
? Did he break his
promise? Was
America
prolonging
the war to mask their hunt for oil? Major Johnson had confirmed it - hadn't he?
Maybe Triet's
right?
She thought.
Maybe Tet will drive them
out? Maybe
Vietnam
needs Tet?
Doubt mauled
her.
Americans; killing; oil; Tet; Triet's bloodbath,
the thoughts spun
in her mind.
She went hot
with anger.
What right do any of them have?
Again she
pictured dead children.
What should I do?
She got up from
the bed, tied back her hair, and then she went down the stairs and opened the
front door.
When she looked
up, Amai knew that her life was over.