"And they're VC sympathizers?" whispered Tom Newton.
"Yes."
"How many?" asked Lieutenant Naguchi. His voice was barely audible above the drip of water from palm leaves.
"Maybe thirty," said the guide. "No more than thirty-five."
"Weapons?" asked Naguchi
"There may be some hidden in the huts," said the guide. "Be careful of the young men and women. VC. Well-trained."
There was a long silence as they stared at the quiet village. Finally Justin stood and clicked the safety off on his rifle. "Let's do it," he said. Together they moved into the clearing.
Ralph Disantis and Nguyen van Minh sat together in a dark booth in an old bar not far from what had once been Tu-Do Street. It was late. Minh was quite drunk and Disantis let himself appear to be in the same condition. An ancient juke box in the comer played recent Japanese hits and oldies-but-goodies dating back to the eighties.
"For many years after the fall of my country, I thought that America had no honor," said Minh. The only sign of the little man's drunkenness was the great care with which he enunciated each word. "Even as I lived in America, worked in America, became a citizen of America, I was convinced that America had no honor. My American friends told me that during the Vietnam War there was news from my country on the televisions and radios every day, every evening. After Saigon fell ... there was nothing. Nothing. It was as if my nation had never existed."
"Hmmm," said Disantis. He finished his drink and beckoned for more.
"But you, Mr. Disantis, you are a man of honor," said Minh. "I know this. I sense this. You are a man of honor."
Disantis nodded at the retreating waiter, removed the swizzle stick from his fresh drink, and placed the plastic saber in a row with seven others. Mr. Minh blinked and did the same with his.
"As a man of honor you will understand why I have returned to avenge my family," Minh said carefully.
"Avenge?" said Disantis.
"Avenge my brother who died fighting the North Vietnamese," said Minh. "Avenge my father--a teacher--who spent eight years in a reeducation camp only to die soon after his release. Avenge my sister who was deported by this regime for ..." Minh paused. "For alleged crimes against morality. She drowned when their overcrowded boat went down somewhere between here and Hong Kong.
"Avenge," repeated Disantis. "How? With what?"
Minh sat up straight and looked over his shoulder. No one was near. "I will avenge my family's honor by striking against the maggots who have corrupted my nation," he said.
"Yeah," said Disantis. "With what? Do you have a weapon?"
Minh hesitated, licked his lips, and looked for a second like he was. sobering. 'Men he leaned over and grasped Disantis's forearm. "I have a weapon," he whispered. Two of them. I smuggled them in. A rifle and my service automatic from the Hac Bao." He hesitated again. "I can tell you this, Mr. Disantis. You are a man of honor." This time it was a question.
"Yes," said Disantis. "Tell me."
Two of the huts were on fire. Justin and the other four had come in shouting and firing. There had been no opposition. The thirty-two villagers, mostly children and old people, knelt in the dust at the center of the village. Sayers had knocked over a lantern in one of the huts and the thatch and bamboo had blazed like an incendiary flare. The fat American had beat uselessly at the flames until Justin called, "Forget the fucking hootch and get back here."
Tom Newton swung his rifle to cover the cringing villagers. "Where are the VC?" he shouted.
"VC!" shouted Sayers. "Where are their tunnels? Tell us, goddammit!" A kneeling woman holding a baby bowed her forehead to the dust. Flames cast bizarre shadows on the dirt and the smell of smoke made the men's nostrils flare.
'They don't understand," said Reverend Dewitt.
"The hell they don't," snapped Justin. "They're just not talking."
