Strangely, that was not his most memorable escape. The most tragic, heart-rending and dangerous escape concerned Hoa. It was during the retreat after the Tet Offensives in 1968, an unfortunate time for them. For the infantry scouts even the sky was dangerous in those two weeks of withdrawal, carrying the wounded, dragging their feet through the jungles heading west towards the Cambodian border. In less than a fortnight they had been encircled twice, and twice in utter desperation had broken out of the traps, fighting fearlessly.
Kien’s unit was in total disarray and badly beaten up. They fought a rearguard struggle as they headed west and together with three men from another company crossed the Poco River and wormed their way to Black Hill, which had been ground to powder by B52s. From that relative safety they ran for their lives into the sunset.
As they were crossing some low-lying jungle areas at the foot of the Ngoc Bo Ray mountain, the group came across a team of stretcher-bearers heading for Cambodian territory. Against his better judgement, Kien and his men joined the stretcher-bearers from the Sa Thay river area and went along with them. They were all short of food and their units had been torn to shreds. They were exhausted and weak and seemed lost, although they were being led by a female guide. But she was not one of the Thuong minorities who knew the borderlands territory. She was from the north.
American troops were all round them in this area and their ragged unit saw traces of them having passed earlier at various points, and other signs of their presence. They expected to run into them at any time, especially near water-holes; it was the dry season and there were precious few fresh water sources left, so they were natural ambush sites.
Overhead there were the spotter planes and bombers to contend with. After some unexpected encounters with the enemy they took more wounded, including the stretcher-bearers. They reformed with groups of three carrying two stretchers each. They dragged and wormed their way along, heading west for the Sa Thay river. It seemed they had been wandering aimlessly around the base of Ngoc Bo Ray mountain, for they listened in vain for the welcome rippling song of the river which would spell relative safety for them.
Hoa, the guide from the north, replied confidently to Kien’s comment that they were lost. Having no compass or map he was forced to rely upon her. But his intuition told him they were lost, and by the third morning their situation had become desperate. Instead of arriving on the east bank of the Sa Thay near Cambodia they arrived on the bank of an immense, unnavigable lake.
‘Heavens! Crocodile Lake!’ Hoa wailed in disappointment.
Kien was disgusted; he stood moodily looking over the reedy lake watching the stinking vapours rise, and seeing several lurking crocodiles slithering around in the green, wet scum along the banks.
‘What’s this? A sightseeing tour? You’ve led us to this stinking Crocodile Lake. Great!’
‘My mistake,’ the guide said humbly.
‘It’s not a mistake, it’s a fucking crime,’ Kien muttered cruelly. ‘You ought to be shot, but bullets wouldn’t be good enough.’
Hoa’s eyes filled with tears and her lips trembled. ‘I’ll pay for my mistakes, please, let me repay. I’ll find the way,’ she blubbered.
‘So, we’ll have a wash in the mud here, shall we, while we wait for you?’ he asked.
‘No. It’s not that bad. Crocodile Lake is close to the Sa Thay. I’ll backtrack and look for the turning. It’s not far. For now, let’s get back under cover near the foothills we’ve just passed. I’ll find the road and we’ll march again at sunset.’
She spoke rapidly, eager to redeem herself.
Spotter planes were circling overhead. Enemy mortars pounded another target on the other side of the lake, with increasing intensity. The shock waves began arriving on their side of the lake’s shoreline.
‘It’s my fault, comrades, I’ll find the way. But first let’s get the wounded under cover,’ Sue repeated eagerly.
Kien by this time had no confidence in Hoa but saw her as the only hope, for none of them knew the area. The lives of scores of wounded men and their stretcher-bearers depended on her confidence in finding the way to the safety of the border. The wounded were ashen-faced, their bodies now wasted from starvation and exhaustion.
They withdrew from the lake shore to a creviced area where protective rock slabs shielded them from the harsh sun and the spotter planes. An unexpected and ominous calm fell on the area. The mortars had stopped, the roar of the jets could no longer be heard. The crackling sound of sporadic rifle-fire was heard, but apart from that only the groans of the wounded broke the silence.
The heat and humidity oppressed them all. Kien scowled at Hoa as he spoke threateningly: ‘If you don’t lead us to the riverbank… you understand the consequences…’
‘Yes. Now, let me go now,’ she said.
Kien unslung his AK and handed it to a stretcher-bearer. ‘If the Americans come, use this. Not many rounds left. Take this pistol too. Still got four in it. I’ll use grenades.’
Kien handed another pistol to Hoa. ‘Avoid fighting. We’ve got to find the way out, not get into firefights, understand?’
‘Let me go alone, you rest here,’ she said to Kien.
‘No. I’m coming with you.’
‘You don’t trust me. I’ll find it, don’t worry.’
‘I don’t trust you. I’ll believe it when I see it. Our only duty is to these wounded; we have to find a way out at any cost,’ he said.
‘Understood,’ she said, looking at her boots.
They backtracked for some time. When a head-shaped rock appeared before them Hoa whispered urgently: ‘That’s it. We turn here. This is where we missed the turning, couldn’t see the rock from the other side as we came in.’
‘Certain?’ he replied.
She nodded. ‘Remember this rock. We’re near the track now,’ she said quietly.
They headed off at an angle and found a lightly used track which led through a dry creekbed, and very soon they could smell and hear the fresh water of the Sa Thay. The atmosphere had changed; it was fresher, the jungle was greener there and they both regained their confidence. Hoa moved ahead through ponds and banks of shrubs blooming with red flowers.
The track they were meant to follow was by now almost overgrown, but the sound of the river was all they needed to guide them from there. They came across an abandoned cassava field overgrown with elephant grass and found themselves looking down towards the river.
‘We needn’t go right down,’ he said. ‘The path is clear now. Let’s get back and bring them all over before dark.’
‘I’ve got to rest a bit first,’ she said.
‘Agreed. I’m exhausted,’ he said.
They sat down out of sight looking over the fields and riverflats. Kien looked over at Hoa, his mood softening.
‘Like a smoke?’ she asked.
‘Yes. But where’d you get them?’ he said, smiling.
‘I found a Salem packet. Had one left.’
She took the crushed packet from her top pocket and lit up, taking a few puffs to get it started, then handed it to Kien.
‘The Americans are close, then,’ he said, looking at the packet.
‘Not always. We get hold of Salems, too. But we should’ve brought the AK,’ she said.
‘Yes. But I thought they’d need it if the Americans come across them. The wounded can’t run so they have to fight. We’re nearly out of ammunition, anyway. We have to avoid them, that’s all. That’s the only way we’re going to get the wounded safely across.’
She nodded agreement, making a hand signal for a puff on the cigarette. Kien placed it between her lips.