Erich lifted his legs and swung around on his chair. Surveying the neighborhood briefly, he pointed at a nearby hill. “Is the barrack hill as high as this one, Suoi?” The girl turned, observed the elevation briefly, then replied, “Not as high—and not as steep.”
“More like the one over there?”
“Like that one!” Suoi exclaimed pointing toward a hill. “It is very similar to that one.”
Erich questioned her about the hills near Man-hao and gradually his design began to fill with details. Adjoining the militia barracks, we thought, should be the Viet Minh compound. Unfortunately Suoi could not tell how many barracks were there or how large, information which would have enabled us to compute the number of troops the buildings could accommodate. She thought the barracks were of wood but she could not say for sure.
“We will have to send in a reconnaissance party before the attack,” I said, satisfied with what we got on Erich’s diagrams. “Their going will be a great deal easier now.”
I had confidence in our chances. With the advantage of surprise on our side, we should be able to destroy some of the installations and deliver a crippling blow to the enemy manpower—if only for a few weeks. We were almost seven hundred strong, but I decided to take along only two hundred men. With the aid of Schulze’s diagrams we prepared a rough plan, subject to adjustment later on, according to the reconnaissance findings: a two-pronged attack with Eisner and myself moving in from the east, while Schulze and Riedl would advance from the north. The raid would be timed for eleven P.M., late enough for the troops to be in bed yet still early enough for some important buildings to remain illuminated.
Since we were to cross the railway line, Riedl suggested that we might as well blow a couple of holes in the tracks. But as far as I knew, there was no railway traffic between Meng-tzu and Lao Kay. Therefore I opposed the idea of wasting time on a line that was not in use. If we wanted to damage the Chinese communications the right place to do it was farther up between Man-hao and Meng-tzu, a fifteen-mile diversion which I dared not risk. The Chinese had considerable forces at Meng-tzu, barely fifty miles away from our intended place of attack. They could rush reinforcements to Man-hao within an hour— if not to the town itself, then to block our way of retreat farther north.
I decided to depart the same evening on a rarely used smuggler’s trail which Phu and Cao had known since childhood. The trail was far removed from the regular patrol routes of the militia. Schulze and Eisner left to select weapons for the coming action: twenty machine guns, thirty light mortars with ten rounds each, twelve bazookas, and a dozen flamethrowers, which latter I consider the most effective weapon against guerrillas. We also packed grenades and demolition charges. For ammo, Eisner selected tracers, which were psychologically more effective than ordinary bullets. The glowing ribbons of tracers always panic the enemy. The more fireworks we displayed the greater their confusion.
Ordinary bullets deliver a sudden and invisible death; an instant before the fatal hit the enemy gunner still fires his weapon, and may cause casualties. With tracers it is different. “death” can actually be seen as it creeps closer and closer and when the glowing ribbons of destruction begin to flicker overhead the enemy gunner will stop firing and will, instinctively, seek shelter. By cutting down the enemy’s “time of activity,” if only for seconds, one may save the lives of a few comrades. A small tactical point which, naturally, was never incorporated in the Legion’s Les Principes de la Guerre.
The actual raid, I thought, should not last longer than fifteen minutes. “Do not get wounded,” Eisner warned the troops. “Stay under cover and take no chances. You know the rules.”
They knew them. We could not leave corpses behind to provide the Chinese with evidence. Casualties were to be destroyed with grenades and flamethrowers. A macabre arrangement but we had no choice.
The most important part of our venture was to find a safe place which was secluded enough to conceal two hundred men for a whole day. It was impossible to reach our destination in a single night and the enemy should not detect our presence prematurely. On the return leg of the trip we planned to march through, covering the entire distance in about fifteen hours. Phu recalled a cave on the Chinese side which, he insisted, was large enough to hold us during the hours of daylight. It was also close enough to Man-hao. By questioning Phu again, Schulze was able to pinpoint the approximate location of the cave and mark it on his diagram.
When dusk fell we changed into native pajamas. Eisner had some difficulty finding a pair of boots small enough to fit Suoi’s little feet, but Erich solved the problem with additional padding. The trip was to be a tiresome one and her sandals would not have lasted long. She, too, had changed into man’s clothes. I advised her to stay close to me all the time.
“I don’t care if they kill me,” she replied and her remark drew a sharp reproach from Schulze.
“You should not say such a thing, Suoi. We also have lost many people whom we loved. There is not a man among us who has not mourned someone.”
“You have each other,” she said quietly. “I am alone in the world with no place to go.”
“You are not alone, Suoi,” Erich answered. “You do have a family, a very large one. A whole battalion.”
He reached under her chin and tilted up her face gently. “Will you accept us to be your family?” She smiled through tears. “If you don’t expect me to cook for you…” Looking at Schulze and Riedl as they flanked the girl, I saw Eisner was suppressing a grin and instantly I realized that my battalion had indeed “adopted” Suoi. If not the battalion, then at least Erich Schulze.
“What will you do with her, back in Hanoi?” I asked nonchalantly.
Erich shrugged. “Oh, hell, we will put her up somewhere. If every one of us gives her a hundred piasters every month, she can live like a princess.”
“When we move out again, she can join us,” Riedl added enthusiastically.
“Like hell she can! We have enough trouble without girls in the show.”
“She is a clever girl, Hans. She speaks good French. We can always use a good interpreter,” Erich argued.
“Do you want to see her killed?”
“We have been in business for a long time and we are still around. Not every bullet stings.”
“No… only the one you bump into. How about that bullet they dug out of your ass?” Eisner cut in. “I like the way you are discussing the girl’s future. Shouldn’t you ask her?” Schulze waved him down. “Later I will ask her.”
We moved out at 9:30 P.M. with our footwear wrapped in cloth to deaden sound. Phu and Cao received their machine pistols and were leading the way with steady strides. We crossed the rugged frontier without difficulty. The men kept at arm’s length. Our guides must have known the path indeed, for they marched without hesitation in what seemed to me utter darkness, giving an occasional warning on obstacles or steep descents. Gradually the clouds dispersed, allowing the half moon to shine dimly. Around two o’clock we were already three miles inside China and the going was still good. I held four brief pauses mainly for Suoi’s benefit. The little native girl was following me bravely and without complaining. She accepted my hand whenever we hit an obstacle or held onto my belt when we had to climb.
“Say, Hans,” Schulze turned to me during one of our short halts, “you aren’t booking the girl for yourself, are you? I am kind of interested in her.”
“I’ve noticed that already, Erich, but for the time being I prefer your concentrating on our expedition.”
The sun was rising when we arrived at the cave. It was a quarter of the way up a precipitous cluster of rocks that towered a hundred feet over a gorge. A narrow path led to the opening. Only one man at a time could climb up. The place was entirely surrounded with densely forested hills. Phu reassured me that there were no people for miles around. The cave was large, at least three hundred feet deep and thirty feet high. Examining our hideout, Schulze expressed his surprise at the Viet Minh’s failure to utilize that natural strongpoint so well suited for storing weapons. Cao, however, explained that when it rained, and especially during the monsoon, the cave filled with water and became useless.
“And apart from that,” Eisner added, “you forget that we are in China proper where the Viet Minh have depots right along the road.”
Farther inside, where the bottom appeared sloping inward, I saw a large pool of clear water. It solved our cooking problems. Everyone selected a relatively dry spot to stretch out and settle for a nap. The place was rather warm but a slight, persistent draft felt refreshing. With the cotton paddings from some ammo boxes Schulze improvised a comfortable cot for Suoi. She lay down and quickly fell asleep. I ordered Corporal Altreiter to post guards at the cave’s entrance, then I, too, stretched out with a rucksack under my head. Sleep, however, evaded me for a long time and thoughts flooded my mind to keep me awake. I was thinking of the ruined village, the Viet
