meals and taught the men how to cook better meals for themselves. We had no facility for mess-cooking. The men had to take care of their own meals.
One evening, I think it was our third evening in our jungle camp, I sat in my hut writing my journal, when Erich appeared all of a sudden. “Hans,” he addressed me in a troubled voice, “Do you suppose you can perform a marriage ceremony?”
“Perform a what?” The pen dropped from my hand and so did my chin. “Marriage,” Schulze repeated and I saw he was in earnest. “I want to marry Suoi!”
“That is no news!”
“I want to marry her now,” he added quickly. “I thought you could do it… like a captain of a ship.”
“Are you serious, Erich?”
“Hell, of course I am serious. Can you marry us, Hans?”
“I don’t think it would do you any good as far as the law goes, Erich.”
“We can take care of the legalities later.”
I lit a cigarette and offered him one, then taking my canteen, I filled two small cups with rum. “I think we both need a drink, Erich.”
We drank, but all the time Erich’s eyes remained on my face questioningly.
“What does Suoi think of your idea?” I asked.
“I wouldn’t have come to you on my own, Hans. We are in love.”
“That is also known,” I commented repressing a smile. “But you had better wait until we return to Hanoi.”
He wet his lips and wiped the perspiration from his handsome face.
“I will go to pieces before then, Hans,” he confessed. “What do you suggest?”
“I suggest that we have another cup of rum.”
We drank. “Where is Suoi?” I asked after a while.
“In my hut—crying.”
“I hope you did not—”
“No, I didn’t!” He cut me short. “That’s exactly why I am cracking up, Hans. I am crazy about her.”
“I can understand that,” I agreed sympathetically. “She is a beautiful girl.”
“She takes my hand, I kiss her, and the scent of her hair is enough to send me up the wall.”
He lit another cigarette with shaking fingers. I never saw Erich so excited. “There ought to be a missionary around. The men say there is a priest in Muong Son.”
“So is the Viet Minh, Erich!” He ran his hand through his hair and rose slowly. “Hans,” he spoke to me, his voice full of emotion. “I’ve never asked for any special favor in all these years together. I am asking for a favor now. We don’t know how long we will last, do we, Hans? We cannot think of the future, not even in terms of weeks. The only certain thing we have is our present—this very day. Get me that priest from Muong Son.”
There was a pause. He was looking at me penetratingly and I was thinking.
“I suggest that you should return to Suoi now. I will see what I can do about you. But whatever I do will depend on what Xuey thinks of it. He knows Muong Son and Father Bousseau, a French priest there, and only Xuey can make the trip. For anyone else it would be suicidal even to try. The place is teeming with guerrillas.”
I glanced at him. “I presume you know what it could mean if we lose Xuey?” He answered nothing, only sat there with his face buried in his hands. I went on. “Provided that the priest is still there and he is willing to come, and he is able to come, I shall try to get him here.”
“Thank you, Hans… thank you indeed.”
“Don’t thank me, Erich. I am not happy about it—and I will be damned if this isn’t the bloodiest military expedition I have ever been on.”
“I am sorry.”
“In a sense I was afraid that this would happen, Erich. Today you, tomorrow maybe Karl or Riedl. After tomorrow it might be Schenk or someone else.”
“I am sorry, Hans.”
“It’s all right. In the meantime be kind to Suoi and remember that she is not a European girl. The Orientals still consider love and marriage something truly sacred and everlasting.”
Erich swallowed hard and extended his hand. “I shall remember it, Hans. You have my word.”
Schulze left and I spread out my map to spend almost an hour pondering the problem. Muong Son was about eight miles away, as the crow flies, but overland the trip would be much longer. I sent a trooper for Eisner and told him the whole story. He seemed amused, but he only shrugged at my dilemma.
“Well, say something,” I urged him. “What would you do in my place?”
“Turn in my uniform and open a marriage bureau, Hans.”
He chuckled. “You should ask Xuey what he thinks of going to Muong Son.”
“I should never have brought the girls along.”
“Nonsense!” said he. “The boys never did so well before, Hans. They are marching better—no one dares to bitch while the girls keep going without a complaint—and they are fighting better because they know we have to protect our angels—and you know it too.”
“All right. You’ve convinced me. Now let’s hear from Xuey about the affair.”
The little Indochinese listened to my explanation intently. I was truly embarrassed for requesting his services in such a nonmilitary and unimportant private affair. But Xuey’s face showed no emotion whatsoever—neither approval nor disapproval. “I think I can manage it,” was his comment. “Do you want me to go right now?” I nodded. He asked me to write a short note to the priest, which I did, imploring him to trust Ghia Xuey, for I could not disclose the place where he was to come.
Two days later Xuey returned alone. “The priest is dead,” he reported. “The Viet Minh shot him seven months ago. I got this book from an old servant of his.”
From under his shirt he pulled a small leather-bound Bible and placed it on my cot. “I am sorry that I could not oblige Lieutenant Schulze.”
“Thank you, Xuey, all the same.”
He bowed and withdrew. I sat for a while, thinking of what to do now. Erich was right; none of us knew whether we had a future. He came in shortly afterwards, hand in hand with Suoi. He had already spoken to Xuey and looked very disappointed. I motioned them to sit down. - “What do we do now?” Erich asked.
I reached for the Bible and opened it at random. It was the first time in my adult life that I had held a Bible in my hands. “Well, at least we have a Bible,” I stated, trying to smile. “Even a ship’s captain must have a Bible if he wants to perform a marriage ceremony.”
Schulze’s eyes lit up. “Will you do it then?”
“As a very temporary arrangement, Erich. I will do it mainly for Suoi’s sake. But it won’t be legal.”
“Who cares!” he exclaimed. “We will know that we are married and God will know it too.”
“God might know it but He won’t give you a marriage certificate!” Suoi blushed and lowered her face. “Suoi,” I spoke to her, “Do you understand that I cannot marry you legally and that if 1 do so, you will be married only in our hearts and in our eyes, but not in the eyes of the world?”
“Oui, I know,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.
“Do you want me to do it?”
“Oui, Hans. I want you to do it.”
The news spread through the camp like wildfire. And there, out in the wilderness, Sergeant Krebitz’s men erected a small altar, covered with a tarpaulin sheet and decked with flowers; on it Riedl placed a wooden crucifix which he had carved the day before, expecting the priest. I placed the open Bible in front of the cross. Noy and the girls came, each carrying a single flower which they tucked gently into Suoi’s hair, kissing her on both cheeks. The troops gathered around the makeshift shrine, everyone freshly shaved and wearing a clean shirt. They stood in solemn silence and were deeply touched when Erich and Suoi appeared, Erich with a stance of determination but Suoi blushing and with eyes averted. I motioned them to the altar and said, “Place your hands on the Holy Bible.”
Obediently they extended their hands, with Erich’s hand resting lightly on hers. Strange as it may be, I saw my men, the rugged, tough fighters, who believed in only one power—that of the gun—now standing overawed before an invisible, spiritual force, no one daring to move or to do as much as clear the throat.
