The 13th Valley

CHAPTER 2: EGAN-3

Mama-san and the remainder of her family moved south to another village where her father’s brother became the assistant government administrator. He was killed in the spring of 1954 when the Viet Minh again infiltrated the Street Without Joy.

In July of ’54, after the Geneva cease-fire, the Viet Minn’s 95th regiment evacuated the area. The new government relocated Mama-san’s village to Ap Lai Thanh. In 1962 Mama-san’s only living brother was killed in an ambush when new enemy troops again infiltrated the area. The new force was called Viet Cong yet it again was the 95th Regiment.

US Marines stormed the Street Without Joy in 1964 and 1965. Again Mama-san was uprooted. Her village was cordoned off. All civilians were directed to gather their effects and relocate to the refugee camp three kilometers northwest of the Citadel at Hue. The village was razed, the ground plowed under. The area became a free-fire zone.

On 31 January 1968 the North Vietnamese 800th, 802d, and 804th battalions along with Viet Cong elements of the Hue City Committee of the Communist Party assaulted and captured the Citadel and the city and many of the surrounding villages. Sometime between the onset of the TET Offensive of ’68 and February 25, when the last NVA soldiers were driven from the area, Mama-san’s husband and eldest son, a good-looking boy of nine, were killed. She did not know how or by whom and she did not care.

In the spring of 1970 with the help of the 326th Engineer Battalion of the 101st Mama-san and nine hundred other refugees resettled Ap Lai Thanh.

Mama-san had cried many times. She had seen many soldiers. Now she told Murphy in Vietnamese, she wished all the soldiers would go. “If they stay,” she said, “it will only be more hardship. I will cheer the peace when all soldiers are dead. Today our lives blossom; today we open ourselves to the sun. Tomorrow we will have no petals for the sun to warm.”

The soldiers sipped their drinks. A little boy was sitting on Egan’s lap and holding the mourning dove. The bird flew from his hand to Egan’s shoulder and then to the top of the boy’s head. The bird perched briefly and returned to the boy’s hand. All the kids laughed and Egan laughed and blushed and laughed again. Mama-san’s oldest daughter returned with a package wrapped in brown paper.

Murphy did not know where Mama-san got the dew but he knew it would be good and the price was very fair. He purchased twenty decks of O-Js. The O-Js were thin, perfectly rolled m*******a cigarettes soaked in an opium solution. Fifty O-Js to a deck. Mama-san sold the twenty decks to Murphy for two hundred and fifty dollars greenback. She would then turn the American money into seven hundred dollars worth of piasters and Murphy would sell half the dope to more timid GIs for five hundred dollars MFC.

More children ran into the house. They had been waiting outside: sentries. “Your friends back,” an older boy said. “Must go. Em-peees at end of road. You go now.”

Egan had kept his attention on Mama-san while she and Murphy spoke and while he played with the children. The old woman now turned to him and said, “I wish you a thousand years. Chuc ong may man.” She turned to Murphy and in Vietnamese invited them to come back on Wednesday night to play cards.

Egan and Murphy got up and thanked Mama-san and the eldest daughter. They ran to the truck. “Cam on ba, Mama-san,” Murphy shouted. “Yes. Thanks again,” Egan added.

The little boy with the mourning dove ran with them to the truck. As Egan climbed up the bumper and began getting into the bed the boy grabbed his leg and cried, “Merry Christmas.”

They lay quietly on the sandbags on the floor of the three-quarter as the truck made its way back to the highway and past the MP patrol. Egan felt nauseous. Not nauseous but … It was that feeling again. Something had happened to him on R&R and he had not known it. He was getting short. His tour was almost over. He was down to twenty-six and a wake-up and he had gotten a new taste of civilized life. Maybe, he thought. Maybe it was the lady. She had reminded him of Stephanie. A chill ran through him. Not yet, Mick, he said to himself. Don’t think of her yet.

“We’re clear,” Murf shouted, laughed, after they passed through the first village. They sat up.

“You comin up Wednesday?” Egan shouted back.

“Not anymore, Bro. I’m too SHORT. This used ta be a good place though. Mama-san’s been like a mother to me. I’m serious. I got to know her and the kids. No fuckin around. Really nice people. Baby-san plays a mean flamenco guitar. She’s been teachin me. All the men are off fightin a fuckin war, I think. You’d know more about that s**t, though.” He paused to chuckle. “Hey, can you stay for a coupla days? Aint nobody goina miss ya. I’ll send word ta yer XO that yer plane crashed en you gotta row back from Australia. You can crash at my hootch.”

“Like to, Murf, but …”

“Aw, come on, Eg.”

“I’d really like to, Man, but …”

“But! But my fuckin ass. You still got that crazy fuckin sense of responsibility? Yer fuckin crazy. You know that? Yer gung-ho. What the f**k they goina do if yer a day late—send ya ta Nam?”

“Murf. The L-T might not even ask me to go back to the boonies. I’m pretty short and he knows I’m short. If they already went out …”

“Oh-deuce goin out in the mornin. I talked to El Paso yesterday. He said yer goin up north. They’re goin after a headquarters complex or somethin.”

“Look,” Egan said firmly, “if the L-T says I don’t have ta go, I’ll be back for a set tonight.”

“Egan,” Murphy shook his head in disgust, “you’re a ridiculous person.”

At Phu Bai, when the three-quarter returned, Daniel Egan found a jeep from his battalion waiting for him. In the back of the jeep with duffel bag and gear was the young soldier who had been whining to the clerk. He looked miserable.