As he approached he felt renewed hope that she had returned while he searched, but once inside the classroom he found no sign of her. Just swarms of mosquitoes.
He threw himself dejectedly back into the hammock, but almost in the same movement sprang out again, heading towards the soldiers’ room.
Hammocks. Knapsacks. Pistols. They were all military officers. Some were lying down, others were playing cards. He hesitated a little before asking them about Phuong. A pock-marked card-player sitting on a tarpaulin looked up at Kien thoughtfully. ‘Your girlfriend? Yeah. Very nice little thing. Nicely spoken, very beautiful. Slim neck, pale skin, nice face, and what a charming walk. A feast for the eyes. That her?’
‘Yes, commander, that’s her.’
‘She was bathing over in the marsh when I saw her. Nice!’ he said.
Kien was shocked.
‘Why so shocked? Of course in the marsh, where else is there any water round here? But she finished long ago. Haven’t you seen her since then?’ he asked.
A loud voice from the other side of the room chimed in. ‘Now, how could he meet her? She’s over screwing the driver at Company 8, right?’ The voice belonged to a large bare-chested officer, built like a wrestler.
‘Yes, but…’ Kien stammered.
‘But what? I can see you’re a spoiled little bourgeois, but remember you’re a soldier too. Don’t get sentimental, forget that emotional garbage,’ he said gruffly.
Kien was embarrassed and began to stammer.
‘But what?’ the wrestler said, standing up, showing he was quite tall. ‘What kind of bloody soldier are you? Are you love-sick? Are you from the anti-aircraft unit over at Dragon Jaw Bridge? Or are you a deserter?’ he said accusingly.
The commander interrupted. ‘Don’t bully him, Phuc. As for you, soldier, there’s nothing to worry about. If she’s with the drivers it doesn’t really matter. They’re hidden in their trucks by the marsh over there. Those two GAZ 57s belonging to Company 8, by the old tree.’
‘That’s odd, I just passed there and didn’t see her,’ said Kien recovering a bit.
The wrestler laughed. ‘If they were doing her over in the back of the truck you wouldn’t have seen her. She’s pretty game. Is she a city slicker?’
Kien hardly heard him. ‘But I called her. No answer.’
‘She didn’t reply? Well, fuck me, fancy that!’ he said with heavy irony. ‘If I were you I’d slap her wrist for not replying. Shit, she looked good, mate. But that sort of whore, they’re always running off. I wouldn’t fuck her if it was free.’
Kien, now at breaking point, moved in and punched the wrestler Phuc heavily on the jaw. In the same action he stepped back sharply and drew his pistol, cocked it and fingered the trigger, aiming it directly into Phuc’s big chest.
The card-players stopped playing, looking up in silence.
‘You’re an arsehole as well as an idiot,’ Kien said to him. But he didn’t fire. He simply turned and walked away, leaving them in silence. No one ran after him. No one called him. The gamblers continued their game as if nothing had happened.
Kien walked dizzily out of the schoolyard, his head bent, not caring where he was heading. Suddenly, in front of him, were the two black GA trucks. He hadn’t wanted to see her in there, but his feet took him forward. Stealthily he crept up and looked into the cabin of the first one, then into the back. There was no one at all in the first truck.
He crept up on the second, lifting himself cautiously up to the cabin, but that was also empty. He looked at the covered tray behind the cabin, drawing his pistol as he approached it. He pushed the canvas aside and was hit by a stink of alcohol, food and sweat, and the sound of snoring. Four men in shorts and T-shirts were asleep, snoring and mumbling, their legs intermingled. They had left their transistor radio on, playing softly. No Phuong.
Kien jumped down, wanting to vomit and wanting to put as much distance between himself and the trucks as possible. Did he believe that shithead wrestler? Had she really jumped in with those four? His head was buzzing, driving him to distraction. The droning grew louder and he realised something else was wrong. Across the sky went another squadron of jet fighters, their presence drawing A-A fire, which was now going non-stop. Birds flew away noisily as the big iron birds above started swooping in for another round of bombing, flying in a hand-shaped formation over the A-A batteries, dropping their bombs. Though far from the area he was still able to imagine the terrible destruction and he dropped to the ground in protective cover. As he did so two things happened: a ring of fire lifted on the horizon in front of him and the shock waves lit the night, turning dusk into day for a few seconds, revealing Phuong, bathing.
She was to his left and only ten paces from him, kneeling on a smooth rock at the water’s edge. Phuong was totally naked, her pale body very clear. Behind her was a grassy plot and some bushes. She faced the clear water of the lake.
Slowly, she looked up at the rain of bombs, the fire from the explosions and the thick smoke billowing up. Then she delicately stepped in a little deeper and continued bathing.
Phuong showed no interest, and no fear. Kneeling again, she scooped water into a helmet then poured it over her shoulders. She tipped her head back, raised both arms, and doused herself again.
Finally, she stood upright again to rinse and rearrange her long hair, while looking calmly at the retreating American aircraft.
She turned gracefully and walked to the bank, not troubling to see if anyone watched her. She picked up a dark green towel from the grass and began to dry herself. Her breasts shook a little as she dried her arms and shoulders. Her small waist and her pale flat stomach made the dark hair between her thighs look like a piece of velvet. She had beautiful long legs with unblemished milky skin.
Kien watched her every movement, looked over every inch of her skin, like a voyeur hypnotised by the scene.
Phuong set about dressing, wiggling into her bra and panties, then picking up her clothes. She seemed to be showing off to an unseen audience, displaying herself and her new attitudes with a boldness Kien found himself unable to come to terms with. She seemed to be welcoming her new lifestyle, embracing it with a calm, carefree approach. From being a pure, sweet and simple girl she was now a hardened experienced woman, indifferent to vulnerable emotions. To Kien she seemed to be walking away from his life, from herself, from her past and her country, without the slightest regret.
Perhaps it was all his fault. Perhaps one day she would forgive him for dragging her into this fiasco in which she had been gang-raped by thugs during an air raid, then held by force. And finally had to watch him beating a man’s head in before her eyes. Perhaps she would forgive him. That was in her character.
But since the train? With the driver? Was all that true? Could he ever forgive her, that was the question. Probably not.
Kien lay there motionless. Far away he could see smoke rising from the bombing raid. The air was heavy and still and the smoke rose gently, signalling the end of the worst day of his life. He raised his pistol slowly, first looking down the barrel, then raising it slowly to his head, his finger on the trigger. Why did people claim that life was always better than death? It wasn’t so. He pondered then why he was trembling now, about to take his own life, when he had not hesitated to take the life of another. He moved the pistol around to the point of his nose, his finger still on the trigger. He closed his eyes, but hesitated. He seemed to hear a distant voice calling his name, a voice from far, far away, a sad voice, as though it were calling across water. ‘Kiiieeennn?’ it called.