Nancy clung to Tim's arm with both hands. ‘Stand straight,’ he whispered as he nudged her.
The officer strode purposefully toward them. Closely followed by the translator.
'You speak English?' the translator’s pronunciation was awkward and heavy.
'Yeah.'
The Officer wrinkled his nose. Looking at the interpreter he squealed something in Chinese.
'What is your business in the city, and here at the Administrative centre of Southern Vietnam?' the interpreter said.
Tim coughed into his fist to clear his throat. 'I'm a reporter with the British Press. I... I was hoping that since the Chinese authorities have declared the City open as usual, that uh... there might be a place for a member of the foreign press to conduct official interviews. Photographs perhaps?'
While his words were interpreted, the officer continued to menace him with his fierce gaze. Tim felt his cheeks redden. He felt stupid. An occupying military force was certain to be reticent about allowing a foreign journalist into the inner folds of their workings. Especially one from a country which had publicly denounced the invasion.
'Your documents!' The interpreter demanded.
Tim reluctantly offered his passport while trying to conceal his trembling wrist. The interpreter handed the passport to the officer who studied each page. Even the blank ones.
Nancy pursed her red lips and raised a worried eyebrow. Tim winked and flashed a grin that didn’t feel convincing. Nancy's identity card was only studied by the interpreter then handed back to her after a short discussion in Vietnamese. The interpreter nodded; satisfied with whatever Nancy had told her.
The officer called another soldier and thrust the passport toward him. The officer snapped a string of commands. The soldier then turned and marched toward the palace with Tim's passport.
'You have no Visa. You are in Vietnam illegally,' the interpreter said flatly, 'you have one day to prepare your things. You will then be taken to Tan Son Nhat airport. Your passport will be waiting for you there. If you do not comply, you will be arrested. You will turn over all cameras and electronic equipment for processing prior to departure.'
'You've got to be kidding!' Tim screeched.
Both officer and interpreter stared at him. Her impassively, he with his lip curled into a sneer.
'I can stay three weeks without a visa!’
‘Under Vietnamese regime,’ the interpreter droned, ‘Chinese regime require visa.’
‘How can I get one while you buggers are driving tanks down the bloody streets?' He slapped his palm against his forehead. He clamped his teeth together to prevent his mouth running away.
Nancy tried to steer him away from the palace. The Officer snarled something in Chinese and turned away.
'You go.' The interpreter commanded, pointing the way with the barrel of her machine gun.
Tim allowed himself to be led by Nancy, who guided him with her arm around his waist. After a dozen steps he shook free of her. Putting his palms against his temples he let out a high pitched cry through clenched teeth. He couldn't return to the UK a failure. He'd barely any photos worth using and certainly no story.
'For God’s sake!' he made fists of his hands and bent over like he would be ill.
Nancy rubbed his back while making an irritating purring noise which she probably thought soothing. 'We should go. We shouldn't attract attention.'
Tim straightened. Shaking his fists in front of him like a pilot fighting turbulence at the controls of a plane. 'Just once I thought I got a break. Just once!'
'Come,' Nancy pulled his arm.
Defiant, Tim pulled back. 'I'm not going. What are they going to do? Bloody shoot me?'
'I don't know. Maybe yes. But I know they are watching. If we don't go, they may take you from me. So let’s go.'
Looking back at the queue, a field of faces were directed toward him. The guards stood in a rough line watching him. The expressions were all blank, but he knew Nancy was right. He felt her hand in his and let himself be pulled away. Tears of frustration blurred his vision. His dream of taking the kind of legendary photographs journalists captured in Vietnam during the 1960's stamped out by an embassy guard with a Napoleon complex. In a little over a day, the whole adventure would be nothing more than a strange and surreal dream.
Tuấn
15th March, 08:00
An armoured vehicle rolled past gran's house every few hours, blasting recorded messages reminding that curfew now ran from 7pm until 5am. Every time they passed he thought of his father, dying in the road. Was it his fault? The way Thanh had looked at him indicated where he thought blame lay.
Gran sat in her armchair silently for hours. Her eyes fixed on the wall above the TV. The only channels running were Chinese controlled. One looped a video relaying curfew instructions. The other broadcast 'news'. They'd somehow got Ha Nguyen; a well-known presenter of entertainment shows to enthusiastically report instances of cooperation between the PLA and civilians, and boast of victories over 'insurgent forces'. Between reports were re-runs of an old Chinese state soap opera badly dubbed into Vietnamese. Tuấn scowled at the TV. The latest report showed images of grinning soldiers handing out rice, Durian fruit and coke-cola to adoring women and children. Who they were trying to fool?
Schools, shops and businesses had been ordered to re-open, so Tuấn dressed in a university logo polo shirt and smart black trousers. He took extra time to style his hair. He liked to back comb his hair to give it a feathered look; a style popular among boy bands. He wanted to make sure he looked every bit the student so that soldiers would have little reason to stop him. He looked at his watch. Thanh would arrive soon. 'Gran, do you need anything before you go?'
Blinking, she rubbed her face. Her features sagged. She looked her age. He'd packed some belongings for her into a rucksack. Tuấn's own backpack stuffed with clothes and a few essentials lay beside it at the doorway.
He'd only managed to meet up with his cell once since the invasion. Although Minh and Lâm both lived within a few minutes ride, the long curfew and restrictions on non-essential travel had effectively stalled his resistance before it began. The reduced curfew and ‘business as usual’ strategy should make things easier. There were mobile checkpoints on most routes making ID checks.
A news jingle played on the TV. He saw the cheery face of the traitor reporter. Shuffling forward in the chair he stretched his arm, but his finger paused over the power button. The word 'police' caught his attention. Ha was outside the main police station in District one.
'I'm here this morning to congratulate the first volunteer to receive the uniform of the Vietnamese people’s volunteer police!' Ha pumped her fist triumphantly in the air like she might have when introducing a new music video. The buck toothed idiot she referred to grinned beside her.
'I'm proud... to serve my country... with the help of our Chinese friends,' he at least had enough shame to look a little embarrassed while he struggled to recite his lines. His uniform was a green boiler suit with a red armband bearing the yellow star of Vietnam. His only weapon appeared to be a police baton.
The camera panned to show a queue of some twenty civilians waiting to be inaugurated into the newly formed volunteer police. They forced smiles as the camera panned past them. Tuấn wondered what the Chinese did to force them into this spectacle; threatened them? Their families? He couldn't believe even twenty Vietnamese would betray their country.
'Don't forget to rush down to your nearest police station and ask about enlisting today. Be a part of Saigon's future!' Ha enthused, finishing with her trademark cheeky grin. If she was being forced into her role, she hid it very well. His finger stabbed the power button.
He calculated that the checkpoints and patrols must be tying up thousands of soldiers which the Chinese would sooner put into the field against whatever remained of the Vietnamese army. Making the Vietnamese police themselves made sense, but did they have any real loyalty to their new masters?
&nb
sp; The honk of a motorbike horn accompanied by the tinny whirr of its engine trumpeted Thanh's arrival. With the house doors and gate open, he drove up the ramp stopping his bike alongside Tuấn's.
'Ma, are you ready?' Thanh kept the engine running, already turning the bike around ready to leave.
Gran rose from the sofa; her lip trembling. Tuấn put his arms around her. She hugged him as tightly as her frail arms could.
'It's for the best Gran. You'll be safe with Thanh and the family.'
She stepped back. Holding onto his arms she looked him up and down. 'You're dressed smartly for school today. Such a handsome boy. Be sure to stick to the curfew. Study hard and stay with your student friends all the time.'
Tuấn nodded, smiling weakly. He couldn't give voice to a lie. Not to her. Thanh blasted the horn three more times.
'Oh, you just wait one minute!' Gran shuffled to the kitchen.
Tuấn turned to his uncle who looked away and snorted loudly. Tuấn tried to think of something to say. Nothing adequate came to mind. Gran's return saved him further awkwardness.
'Here, take this.' He felt the rough texture of a tight bundle of paper money pressing into his palm. 'It's not a thousand dollars. I hope it helps. Use it wisely.'
'No, Gran. You should keep...' Her frown silenced him. He slipped the money into his pocket and nodded his thanks. Gran dabbed a screwed up tissue under her eye. He walked beside her to the bike; pausing to pick up her rucksack and slip it over her shoulders before he mounted the bike.
'Make sure you lock up.' She pinched his cheek.
He opened his mouth but before he could speak the bike jolted down the ramp, Gran bounced on the back seat. Then they were gone.
***
Tuấn passed two checkpoints on the short drive to school. Each were manned by three soldiers with an armoured vehicle parked across the motorbike lane. He was stopped at both checkpoints. It was a simple enough affair; 'I.D. I.D,' a soldier would demand. He would show his identity card which was given a cursory inspection before he was waved on his way.
A soldier slouched against the bars of the university gate in place of the usual security guard. He only glanced at Tuấn, but Tuấn kept watch on him even as he parked his bike. He estimated not more than sixty bikes in the parking area. No students hung out in the courtyard.
The building’s electric doors slid open as he approached. The main corridor was empty. Was the school really open? His steps echoed through the hall; he didn't remember that happening before. It felt like he’d wandered into a haunted house.
He stopped at his classroom doorway. Looking through the glass pane, he was relieved to see other students; even if only seven desks were occupied. He pushed the door open. Everyone watched him enter. Nobody spoke. Noticing Phượng, he nodded a greeting as he took his seat. She watched him but didn't otherwise react.
He spotted Minh sat near the window and nodded to him. Minh returned the greeting. Tuấn checked his watch; teacher hadn't arrived yet. Class was due to start in a few minutes. Phượng sat behind him, her cheek resting in her palm, she stared down at her desk. Tuấn hissed to get her attention. Her eyes flicked up at him.
'Where's teacher?' he said.
The door creaked open, teacher walked in with head bowed. He was followed by three Chinese; the first in a smart green uniform and peaked cap, the other two both wearing camouflage gear and battle helmets. Their boots stomped the floorboards and elicited gasps of alarm from the students. Chair legs squeaked as Ngoc- one of the female students, rose. She clutched her school bag to her chest like it was some talisman of protection.
'Sit down, Ngoc.' said teacher, glaring over the rim of his glasses. He took his position behind his desk; flanked by the soldiers.
One soldier hooked his thumbs into his belt, another rested his hand on the holster of his pistol. The one in the peaked cap stood to attention beside teacher. He scanned the room from left to right; inspecting the students like he might a parade of soldiers.
'Students,' teacher croaked, coughing into his hand. 'These soldiers are from the people's liberation army of China. Do not be alarmed. They're visiting every class. It's just routine.' Teacher gestured for the officer to say his piece.
The officer jolted to attention. Stepping forward with a smile spread across his face. 'Thank you, Mr Cường.' He inclined his head to teacher, and removed his cap; placing it on teacher’s desk. His head was shaved to stubble; his cheeks were pockmarked. His smile looked stiffly pasted on; formal and unpractised.
'I'm Lieutenant Han.' Still grinning, he stood with his legs apart and his hands on his hips like a Shakespearean actor in mid speech. 'We are here as friends.' He gestured to the two soldiers accompanying him. They smiled weakly; one managed a limp wave.
Glancing behind, Tuấn saw Phượng sitting back in her chair; bracing herself against the desk. Her nails pressed into the wood. Her knuckles whitened.
'pssst' Tuấn hissed.
She jolted, blinking rapidly, then composing herself her fingers loosened their grip on the desk.
'Relax, it's okay,’ he whispered.
A hand slammed down on his desk making him jump. He looked up at the officer’s sinister smiling face.
'You're right, student. It's okay!' He patted Tuấn on the shoulder. 'A very sensible student! What's your name?'
Tuấn leaned back from him; frowning, unsure if he should give his name. The Officer waved a finger, mock-scolding him. 'I thought my Vietnamese was quite good. Should I rephrase?'
The class remained silent. Teacher's sorrowful expression belied the Chinese officer’s attempted joviality. Tuấn was aware of his own breathing, and felt a bead of sweat on his forehead. Were they here to make arrests? Was there any way they could suspect his intentions; he'd done nothing. The officer's eyes scrutinized him. Memorizing every detail. His grin lapsed into a thin smile.
Tuấn's eyes flicked to the soldiers at the front of the class. They still stood in what they seemed to think were nonchalant postures. He envisaged springing from his chair- charging the nearest soldier. Could he snatch the soldiers' pistol out of his holster before the soldier knew what was happening? Even as he imagined it, the more realistic scenario formed in his mind of the officer grabbing his collar before he'd moved a metre.
The officer looked to teacher. 'Does this boy have a name? Ah, no matter. I shall call him mouse. As quiet as a mouse!'
'My name's Tuấn.'
'Ah, the mouse has a name!' The officer winked, then turned his attention back to the class as a whole.
'Students! You're wondering what we want. What terrible thing could PLA soldiers want with your class?' He paused. 'Your police force and army no longer protect you and your families. You're surrounded by foreign soldiers. Very frightening!' He paced; the tacks on his heels clicking the floor with each step. 'We've come not as conquerors but as liberators.'
'We don't need saving!' Someone from the back dared call out. Tuấn looked around expecting it to be Huy, but he wasn't present. It was Đức; the Captain of the university football team.
All eyes turned to the boy, who at first emboldened then seemed to shrink bank in horror at the attention he'd garnered. Tuấn looked to the Officer, waiting for him to snap his fingers; ordering the two soldiers to drag Đức from the room.
The officer's grin spread wide across his face; he seemed genuinely amused. 'A good point, student.' He clapped his hands. 'But, Vietnam suffers corruption- stunting progress. Under Xi Jinping, China eliminated corruption. Now we can help you do the same.'
The officer looked from face to face. Nobody replied. Tuấn looked away before the gaze fell on him. Other students reacted the same way.
'What? You think there is no corruption?' The officer laughed, pointing at Đức.
'You! When was the last time the police stopped your motorbike and took your money for a minor infraction?'
'My father's a police man in district Phu Nhuan,' Đức's tone was tense, tinged wit
h resentment.
'I ask the wrong student,' the officer smirked at his henchmen. They grinned foolishly back at him.
'Now my father sits at home because you disbanded the police force,' Đức said, his voice raising.
The officers' smile slipped. He nodded at Đức. 'You're right to be outraged. That’s why we're here today. Your city needs police, but the old force are used to old ways. We need young men and women brave enough to ensure Vietnam's prosperous future.'
The officer motioned for one of the soldiers to step forward. The soldier pulled some red cloth from a pocket and handed it to the officer, who held it aloft with both hands; stretching the material so all could see what it was; a red armband bearing the yellow star of Vietnam.
'This is Vietnam's flag- and a symbol of the new volunteer police. Step forward and guard the citizens of Saigon. Help build a new and better Vietnam. You can still sit exams, and we’ll pay you for your devotion to your country. How about that? Chinese paying the Vietnamese police!'
'Yeah, while you rob our natural resources!' Đức was emboldened.
'Ah, the oil,' the officer grunted, 'in twenty years there will be none. We invest in alternative energies to be shared with Vietnam. Together we will march into the new era, while the US, NATO, Islamic State and Russia squabble and weaken.'
Teacher shifted uncomfortably. Tuấn locked eyes with him for a moment. Teacher shook his head.
'Who will be the first among you to pledge devotion to Saigon?' The officer called out.
'It's been Ho Chi Minh City since nineteen seventy-five,' Đức scoffed.
Tuấn screwed his eyes shut. He willing Đức to shut up. It wasn’t the time or place to make trouble.
'We give your city back its original name. Everyone calls it Saigon anyway. Come on, who will step up?' He paced between desks. Dangling the red armband in front of each student. When he got to Tuấn it seemed he let the armband linger some moments longer. The officer made sure the star was held level with his eyes. Tuấn shook his head no. The officer tutted and moved on. No student took the armband. The officer returned to the front of the class.
The March of the Dragons Page 12