The Shadow of Arms Read Free Page A

at his commander, who stared coldly back at the man who was already a member of another unit.
    â€œGo. Get the hell out of here.”
    The soldier saluted as his superior turned toward his bunker. The sergeant nodded. Of all the soldiers, only the platoon leader held out his hand, saying “Good luck. You’ve been through hell here.”
    After shaking his hand, Private Ahn climbed into the Jeep. It sped away, giving him barely enough time to take a last look at the little hole he had been stuck in for the past six months. Through the dust, the heads of soldiers watching from behind the sandbags appeared blurry, and then disappeared. Once it had emerged from the company’s defense zone, the Jeep accelerated. With one hand Private Ahn grasped the body of the unsteady machine gun to keep it from hitting him. Then he leaned forward and asked the man in the front seat, “Am I being transferred to headquarters?”
    The man did not turn around but muttered testily, “Wherever it is, you’re one lucky son of a bitch.”
    â€œHow long’ve you been crawling?” the driver asked.
    â€œFive months and fourteen days, to the day.”
    â€œLooks like a reconnaissance was sent out.”
    At these words from the man in black, apparently a corporal, the driver laughed.
    â€œWhat for? The entire city of Hoi An has been taken.”
    â€œSo, it’s an offensive, then.”
    â€œThe counteroffensive begins this afternoon,” Ahn Yong Kyu interjected.
    â€œWe’re now entering Hoi An. Here, it’s different than in Chu Lai. It’s the Regular Army here.”
    It had been over a month since the brigade headquarters left Chu Lai. Ahn Yong Kyu belonged to the second regiment that arrived. Twice he’d been sent out to lay ambushes in the outskirts of Hoi An, and he’d been a part of a company-level operation at least once. Like everyone, he knew street warfare would mean heavy casualties for the city. But an infantryman didn’t talk about operations to come. He’d keep his mouth shut and not speak of his dreams from the night before. Only check his equipment one more time.
    Ahn Yong Kyu wasn’t thinking about where they were taking him. Every time the Jeep took a sudden turn he had to either quickly duck or catch the swinging machine gun. One thing he knew for sure was that he had to refill his canteen the next time they stopped. With a little luck he might find a well with potable water that didn’t taste of chlorine.
    Private Ahn Yong Kyu had a thin and tanned face. His eyes were narrow and penetrating, his lips, parched and pale, his cheeks hollow. His hair had grown out a little over the nape of his neck and his bony chin was covered in a sparse and prickly stubble. Even when relaxed, the small brown man remained alert. He seemed without emotion. No anger nor agony. His feelings had been charred by the scalding sun. Just two weeks of carnage, of thirst and heat had transformed the fighting men into burnt-out tin cans.
    The Jeep slowed down. It was entering the sector of brigade headquarters. After they passed though an MP 3 checkpoint, a camp compound of plywood and sheet metal came into view. Behind it there was a double fence of barbed wire and a watchtower with a high ladder. Up on the tower the guards were eating C-rations. They had set their guns down, barrels aimed at the ground. A prison camp. Inside the wire about a dozen POWs, exhausted by the heat, were sleeping in the shade of folded tents. One of them stood up and made a sound— uuk , uuk —gesturing for a drink of water, but a guard spat out, “ Kong deok !”
    The prisoner sat down again. The driver walked off toward another set of barracks, and the man in black went into the building alone. He told Private Ahn to wait for a second, but minutes passed and he didn’t reappear. Camouflaged MP vehicles passed through the checkpoint. It must have been time to relieve those