The Shadow of Arms by Hwang Sok-Yong Read Free Book Online

stairs and quickly whispered to Minh, “I get it. Say hi to Shoan for me.”
    Minh left in a hurry out the back door of the herb shop and turned down Le Loi Boulevard. He meant to go to Dong Dao. He didn’t know if Shoan would be there or not, but he thought a quick visit to Uncle Trinh would help calm his restless and troubled heart.
    Footnotes:
    4 Post exchange
    5 National Liberation Front

 
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    3
    As soon as the helicopter landed at the base, the MAC 6 ambulances began streaming in. The corpses were stacked neatly in the multi-shelved compartments. The wounded were grouped into pairs, each with a medic tending to them as they climbed in. Sirens roared. Pilots who had finished for the day strolled by, chewing gum. Yong Kyu and Sergeant Yun made their way off the runway with the government property boxes on their shoulders.
    â€œNow,” Yun said. “I’m going to hitch a ride from the Americans and drive out to China Beach . . . and you’ll have to head downtown.”
    â€œI don’t know the city at all.”
    Yong Kyu was lugging the box as if it were his own and Sergeant Yun looked over his pathetic appearance again. A miserable getup—the graffiti-covered helmet, the automatic rifle and ammo belt, the ragged jungle uniform and the sun-scorched face. The sergeant was quick to make up his mind.
    â€œFine. As you’re moving into such a high post . . . ’’
    Sergeant Yun put his box down, walked over to the sentry box, and made a phone call. “I called the Bamboo Club,” he said to Yong Kyu when he came back. “They’ll come get you.”
    â€œWhat kind of club is it?”
    â€œIt’s an off-duty hangout for investigation division personnel.”
    After setting the two boxes on the ground in front of him Sergeant Yun and waved his thumb at every Jeep and truck that passed by. A three-quarter ton stopped. Yong Kyu handed the boxes up to the sergeant who yelled down from the truck, “We’ll see each other again soon enough. We both have a lot to gain from a friendship.”
    â€œSee you later.”
    After the sergeant left, Yong Kyu sat down on his helmet along the asphalt curb next to the sentry post. The American military base extended down along the shore. Nobody paid any attention to him. Military vehicles passed by and once in a while a kind-hearted driver paused to ask if he needed a ride. Everything was quiet except for the occasional sound of a helicopter taking off and landing.
    A Jeep—yellow and black instead of olive green—came speeding up. As it passed, Yong Kyu saw “Philco-Ford Co.” written on the door. The Jeep drove into the heliport, then circled around and headed back out towards Yong Kyu. It stopped in front of him.
    â€œKorean CID?”
    â€œYes.”
    The American made chin and hand gestures as he spoke. Yong Kyu looked puzzled, so he grumbled, “Christ’s sake, get in. Don’t you speak English?”
    Yong Kyu picked up his helmet and climbed up to sit beside him. In his head he was forming simple English sentences in his head, along the lines of: “I-am-a-boy.”
    â€œYou are CID, too?”
    â€œThat’s why I’m here to get you.”
    â€œYou are a soldier?”
    â€œMarine Corps, Sergeant,” answered the American with a grin. “Call me Beck.”
    â€œI am Corporal Ahn.”
    â€œWhat’s your story? Been in battle?”
    â€œFor six months.”
    Beck whistled in surprise. They drove by a bridge. The soldiers guarding it were shooting at some kind of wreckage floating down from upstream.
    â€œHot out. What’s the cover?”
    â€œWe aren’t in on that. We’re not in field operations.”
    Beck made a quick radio transmission over the noise.
    â€œThis is a CID Jeep?”
    â€œYeah. We play civilians. This Jeep looks just like one of Philco’s or Vinelli’s.”
    â€œWhere do the Koreans