The Tillerman's Gift

by C J Brown

CHAPTER 14

  Friday July 5th

  It was another beautiful day. The morning sun lit and warmed their beach front apartment. Mia was busy buttering more toast while her grandmother sat on the balcony soaking in the morning’s gift. Alison sat beside her looking forlorn and distant.

  “I’m meeting Bertie Birman for lunch today,” announced Tess casually as she took another bite of her vegemite on toast.

  Mia looked at the line of pills that her grandmother had set out in front of her. “Really, Nan. Well just make sure you’re home at a decent hour,” joked Mia.

  “What do you have planned, Ali?”

  “I’m not well, actually. Kim, from the restaurant, has invited me to drop in this morning for a chat but I really don’t feel like it now. I thought I’d just stay around here.”

  “It’s two years today, isn’t, Mum?” Mia kissed her mother on the cheek as she placed two slices of toast on the small table.

  “What was that for?”

  “Every meal comes with a kiss at my café,” replied Mia. A continuous beeping sound came from the kitchen. “Oh, I’ve left the fridge door open again. Why do I always do that?” She went back inside to close it.

  “I think you should still go.” Tess advised Alison. “It would be good for you to get out. Sunshine, sea air and friendship have a way of making things better.” Tess took a sip of tea. “I can go with you, if you like.”

  “Are you sure? Would you really?”

  “Of course, I’d love to,” Tess lied.

  “I’m going to the movies with Jimmy,” Mia announced as she sat down beside her mother, “… if that’s okay.”

  “Of course it is,” replied Alison.

  “Just make sure you’re home at a decent hour,” said Tess trying not to smile.

  “Good, we can all walk together,” said Mia cheerily. “They just live above the shop.”

  Kim Trang looked a little surprised when she opened her door to find Tess standing there with Alison. “Oh, hello,” she smiled. “Hello, Mia. Jimmy is just brushing his teeth. He’ll be out in a … Oh, here he is.”

  “Hi, Mia. Hi, Ms Newell. Hi, Mrs Turner. See ya, Ms Newell, See ya, Mrs Turner. I’ll try to be back by lunchtime to give you a hand downstairs, Mum.”

  Mia kissed Alison and Tess and left with Jimmy.

  “I wasn’t expecting both of you, but I’m very pleased.”

  Kim stood to the side and beckoned them into the living room. Tess looked over to a small table where Kim had placed what looked to be a delicious assortment of small cakes.

  “Oh, you’ve gone to a lot of trouble.”

  “Actually, Kevin is the clever one. He doesn’t just do Asian food.”

  While Alison sat down Tess looked around the beautifully presented room. A tasteful and thoughtful blend of oriental and western influences made the space feel familiar and strange at the same time. On a small table in the corner an old framed photograph of a straight-faced young couple sat surrounded by flowers and red candles. A small, white statue of Buddha also had a place on the table beside a trickling fountain. The room had the slight fragrance of recently burned incense.

  Although initially reluctant to visit, Tess now felt strangely peaceful. She soon found herself admiring some photos on the wall, some similar to those that adorned the restaurant downstairs. In the restaurant, however, she saw them as an unwelcome, cold and confronting reminder of a place that swallowed up the only man she ever loved. But in the warmth of this home Tess felt drawn to them. She began to want to know more. After all, isn’t that why I’ve come home to Clowder Bay?

  “Are they your parents?” asked Tess pointing to a photograph on the table.

  “Yes, at their wedding. I’m sure they were happier than they look.”

  “Yes,” agreed Tess. “It was the same with my parents. Clearly it hasn’t always been the fashion to smile in photographs.” Tess looked at Alison who sat quietly, still with a faraway look in her eyes. Tess resigned herself to having to take the lead.

  “We would love to hear about them, wouldn’t we Ali?”

  Alison smiled politely, suddenly realising that her aloofness might be causing offence, but unable to feign too much enthusiasm. “Of course, that’s why we’re here.”

  Tess had settled into a comfortable chair beside Alison and Kim began.

  “Like so many men at the time my father believed it was his duty to join the fight against the Viet Cong coming from the north. We had a good life and he wanted to do his part to protect it. And with the Americans on our side it never occurred to him, or to any of us, that we would eventually lose. He was killed in 1969. I was only two years old so I have hardly any memory of him, except of his beautiful singing voice. Before he joined the army he would sing to me every night. When he died, so did the singing.

  “It was very difficult for my mother, working and trying to provide a good life for me and my cousin, Van, whose parents had both been killed. Fortunately my mother was a very intelligent woman. She spoke excellent French and English and secured a job at the Australian embassy in Saigon. That's where she met Cam. I don't remember much about that time or about him but my cousin was older and he told me many stories. One thing I do remember is how tall and handsome Cam was. And it was clear that my mother thought so too. On Sundays he would take the three of us to the Ben Thanh Market. Cam would buy us whatever we wanted. He was so generous and would tell us stories of life in his country.

  “I often think how different my young life would have been if he had married my mother. How different would be the dreams that sometimes still wake me at night. Families of Australians and Americans were evacuated before the communist finally took over Saigon. The army evacuated Australian staff and promised that they would return for embassy workers like my mother. We all knew that the communists would not treat us well and that they would be particularly cruel to any who were found to have worked for their enemy. As a worker at the embassy, my mother came into that category.”

  Over the course of the next hour Kim carried Tess and Alison away to another time and another place. The story she began to tell them was a story about war but it was also a story about love.

  April 25th 1975 - Saigon, Vietnam

  The Australian Embassy was situated on the upper floor of the ten-story Caravelle Hotel. It was the final evacuation day for embassy staff and although many spouses and secretaries had already fled the country those that remained rose early and gathered in the forecourt for the small ANZAC service.

  Eight year-old Kim Trang sat on a cold concrete step, yawning and rubbing her eyes as her mother, Linh, and her cousin, Van, watched the proceeding with great interest. Cam and some other staff had collaborated in writing a poem for occasion of the 60th anniversary of the Gallipoli landing and the birth of the ANZAC legend. Those gathered listened solemnly as Ambassador Price reached the final verse:

  Now it falls to us to tell this tale of victorious defeat,

  To say the names and sing the praise of men we’ll never meet,

  To paint the scenes of mud and guns and heat and blood and cold;

  For as long as we remember them, they shall not grow old.

  Less than three hours later the scene had changed dramatically. Cam stood facing the increasingly volatile crowd that was gathering outside the hotel. His right hand was at his side holding his pistol. Of course he had no intention of using it against unarmed civilians but it didn't hurt to show that he was serious about ensuring the safe evacuation of embassy and staff and their families. Behind him a Navy Taipan gunship was quickly descending and the noise and turbulence only added to the overall sense of panic and confusion. The other guards were quickly rounding the remaining ex-patriot staff and a few journalists that had yet to be evacuated. The Viet Cong had already entered the outskirts of Saigon and were taking over like a heavy mist on a winter's morning. Within days South Vietnam's capital would be completely engulfed in a fog of communism.

  Cam turned and caught
a fleeting glimpse of guards hurriedly escorting a handful of staff to the chopper.

  "Get on board, Sergeant!" the lieutenant screamed. "That's everyone. We're outta here!"

  Cam holstered his weapon and ran towards the helicopter. When he reached it he stopped and looked inside the cab. His expression reflected confusion and then horrified disbelief.

  "Sir, what about the others?"

  "Local staff will be picked up tomorrow. Get on board, soldier."

  "But Linh..." Cam shouted, "…she's still inside."

  "Sorry, mate. I have my orders."

  Linh and several other Vietnamese employees, some with spouses, most with children, stood on the hotel steps looking hopefully at the aircraft. Cam ran over.

  "Tomorrow... tomorrow or the next day... we'll come back, I promise."

  Cam took Linh's hand and then held her close. "I promise," he repeated. He smiled at Van and Kim and tenderly touched each of them on the cheek with the back of his hand.

  He started towards the waiting helicopter then suddenly stopped and returned to Linh.

  He reached into his pocket and took out his wallet. "Take this," he said as he kissed Linh on the cheek. "Keep it til I come back. Use as much of it as you need."

  Linh wasn't sure why he did that. Maybe it was her look of desperation, even disbelief that the Australians were leaving without them despite their previous promises that local staff, all one hundred and thirty of them, who worked at the embassy would be evacuated to safety. Was it a payment for her friendship? No, she decided, leaving his wallet was like leaving a piece of himself, a guarantee, an assurance that he was genuine; not a fake like so many servicemen who professed everlasting love, at least until their squad was deployed elsewhere. It was a promise that he would come back.

  But now the war was at an end. It had been lost. It would have been easy for Cam to ride that helicopter into history and forget about Linh and her young daughter and nephew. But he couldn't. Fair dinkum, that was the word he liked to use. He wanted Linh to know he was being fair dinkum. He would be back. He had promised.

  "Move your …" The lieutenant's angry words were lost in the roar of the chopper and with a worried look and a final wave the tall Australian boarded. The helicopter rose and disappeared into the grey sky just as a storm cloud burst.

  There was a feeling of confusion amongst those who were left behind; confusion and betrayal.

  "No," insisted Linh. "They told us they will come back and we must believe them. We should all return here tomorrow... and even the next day if we have to."

  With the helicopter gone the once-hopeful crowd soon dispersed. They made their way to their homes or, depending on the extent to which they had been involved in resisting the advancing troops from the north, to somewhere outside the city where they could hide and eventually escape from the country.

  Picking up their bags the embassy staff left the perceived safety of the building. As far as possible, Linh and the children wended through the back streets. Marketplaces, shops, roads and alleys that were usually bustling with foreign troops on leave and with local shoppers were deserted. It seemed that the world was about to end. And, for so many, it was.

  Throughout the night shooting could be heard as the stubborn remnants of the republican army used up their remaining ammunition and prayed against all reason that things might not be as bad as they seemed. Of course, things were. Some kept their final bullet for themselves.

  It was a sleepless night for Linh who knew full well what lay in store for anyone found to have supported the National Army or the foreign forces. Having worked in the Australian embassy for three years, she knew that there was no future for her in Vietnam. And without her, the children would barely survive.

  The next morning, after a quick breakfast Linh lifted Kim on to her back. Van picked up their small bag of meagre belongings and followed his aunty closely as they made their way towards the embassy hopeful of an early pickup.

  They passed Le Van Duyet Temple and turned into Dinh Tien Hoang just as a convoy of Soviet-supplied T-54 tanks and troop carriers entered the street some distance ahead. Linh's first reaction was to hide, possibly in the grounds of the temple. But she noticed a strange thing happening. There were others in the street as well, shopkeepers, homeless people, people searching for missing loved ones. Kim was surprised to see some of them waving as the convoy passed. Gradually others joined in until everyone stood cheering the army of northern invaders. Of course, Linh realised. That is the best way to survive. Greet the invaders as though they were liberators.

  "Wave, children! Wave at the soldiers," Linh exhorted.

  "I will never cheer for the ones who killed my parents," Van replied tersely, "...and your husband," he added as if Linh needed to be reminded of the fact.

  "Wave with your arms, child, not with your heart."

  It took every ounce of Van’s considerable determination to keep his breakfast down as he waved and grinned at the parading enemy.

  Others were already at the embassy when they arrived and set down their bag inside the foyer.

  "We have someone on the roof keeping a lookout for the helicopter," said one of the women. "All we can do is wait."

  And they did. That day, and the next. But while others went home each afternoon and returned each morning, Linh and the children stayed in the embassy. “The helicopter might come at any time,” she argued. But the others felt too exposed, too much like targets in this imposing building.

  “It is only a matter of time before the soldiers arrive and take us away,” said one. “We are safer at home, if we are safe anywhere.”

  It was on the fourth day that Linh and the children were awoken by a commotion in the courtyard of the Caravelle Hotel. Some citizens were only too eager to ingratiate themselves to the new regime even if it meant betraying their neighbours. And this is exactly what had happened.

  A volley of bullets smashed the lock on the front door of the embassy offices. The soldier in charge quickly stated that he had information that Trang Linh had collaborated with the imperialists. She was to be taken to a re-education camp.

  “Oh, I’m very sorry,” Kim apologised. “I have been talking non-stop. You must be very bored.”

  Tess was conscious of the tear trickling down her cheek and dug into her handbag for a tissue. “On the contrary,” Tess smiled, “Your story is unfinished. I want to hear more of it. Who knows, it might even fill in some of the gaps in my own.”

  She looked at her watch. She was late for her lunch date with Bertie Birman.

  Alison was moved by Kim’s story but mainly she was thankful that her mind had been taken off Peter.