Nang started. He wasn’t certain he understood but he thought he had heard mention of the giant. A soldier motioned him up. He bowed his head to the lieutenant. Sheepishly he dragged his feet. His mind raced with possible scenarios, possible lies.
The structure at the center of the way station was four low cornerposts with a vine-lashed ridge pole and bamboo joists covered with thatch. Beneath, in the glow of a small oil lantern, three men sat in large wicker chairs. Two wore NVA officer uniforms. One wore a simple unmarked khaki tunic.
“Excuse me, sir,” Nang’s escort interrupted. “We have a mountain boy who’s been assisting the porters but who is unknown to them. Lieutenant Hoa thought he should be questioned by Mister Bok.”
Nang bowed before the three men. As he lowered his head he not
