Shock of War

It was a breathtaking scene, barely a mile from the water. It was the stuff of postcards.

Or would have been, if not for the trio of warships three or four miles from shore.

There was no doubt that they were Chinese. They were big vessels, destroyers Zeus guessed, though he was not an expert.

He saw something else near them.

Probably a submarine on the surface, he thought, though from the distance it was hard to tell if it was even there.

“What?” huffed Christian, dragging himself over. He collapsed next to Zeus.

“You think the Chinese would keep their ships on their side of the border?” Zeus asked.

“I have no clue.”

“Do you remember from the G-2 estimates?”

“No.”

“I think they’d be near the border,” said Zeus.

“So?”

“Which means we’re near it. Maybe still in China, but near it.”

Zeus stared southward. He couldn’t see any ships in that direction. But the way the land curved and jutted, there could easily be something closer to shore there. Or farther out — his eyes were tired, and the sun, now starting to set behind him, threw both glare and shadows across the water.

“I think we should keep moving,” said Zeus. “Put more distance between us and the sailors, if they’re still following. Once it’s dark, we can rest for a little while, then get over the border. Or go farther, if we’re already over. Maybe we’ll run into some Vietnamese army patrols.”

He tried to force optimism into his voice. Christian didn’t answer, but rose before Zeus did. They walked for twenty minutes, moving along a rocky ridge, then down the path of another creek bed. About halfway down, Zeus decided to set a false path for anyone following. He had Christian stay where he was, then went through some brush, making sure to break several branches to make it obvious someone had gone through. He came to a clearing after about a hundred yards. This was an unexpected break: anyone tracking them would think they had gone clear through it. He backed out, retracing his steps to Christian.

“I think I heard some noise in that direction,” said Christian. He pointed southwest.

“What kind?”

Christian shrugged. “Trucks.”

Zeus got the map out. It didn’t show the border area in any detail.

“Let’s cut west,” he told Christian.

“Why?”

Zeus shrugged. He honestly had no answer.

* * *

About a half hour later, they came to a narrow, hard-packed dirt road that twisted in both directions north and south. Judging from the piles of gravel to the side, it had either recently been built or reconstructed.

“Doesn’t look as if it’s been used much,” said Zeus, staring at the surface. There were some tire tracks, but not the deep ruts that moving an army would leave.

“How much longer are we going to walk?” asked Christian.

“If we’re already in Vietnam, we should find a patrol soon.”

“If they don’t shoot us.”

Zeus started walking along the edge of the road. The Chinese had invaded in the western area of the country, aiming at sweeping south past Hanoi. The fact that they had been planning an amphibious assault suggested that they were going to cut off the northern portion of the country, avoiding the difficult Quang Ninh highlands as well as the government’s center of power. They could then simply strangle what remained.

But even with their basic plan, they wouldn’t leave the frontier completely devoid of troops.

To Zeus, that meant they were already past the border. Otherwise they’d have seen more evidence of the Chinese army by now.

He walked on, following the road. It was getting dark now, hard to see. The shadows took on odd, threatening shapes.

Zeus tried warding off the boogies of his imagination by considering different strategies, things he would do if he were the Chinese. Where would he land in an amphibious attack? What would he do about Hai Phong, the port to the south? Would it be worth taking Hanoi at all, since clearly what the Chinese wanted was Vietnam’s rice and oil?

“There,” said Christian, suddenly rushing up to him and grabbing his arm. “Hear?”

“Huh?”

“Sssh. Listen.”

He could hear motor sounds, an engine. Not far away.

“Just for safety, let’s get off the road,” said Zeus.

“Which way?”

“Here.” Zeus crossed to the west. He slipped through the trees, his heart suddenly pounding hard — they were going home soon, finally, which meant that they’d be able to sleep, and get something to eat. He was starving.

Not home, exactly. Vietnam was far from home. But it would do.

After he’d gone far enough that he couldn’t see the road anymore, Zeus turned left and headed south. The brush was so thick that it cut at his shirt.

The noise had settled into a vague hum, a low buzz in the distance. Zeus wished he had gone farther along the road; they were farther away from the noise than he’d thought.

“What’s that?” said Christian, pointing to their right.

Zeus stared through the trees.

“The posts? You see it?”

Zeus didn’t at first. Finally he saw something a little greener than the rest.

“It’s a bridge. There’s another road there,” he said. “Bigger than what we were on.”

“Should we take it?” asked Christian. “It’ll be easier to walk.”

“Even more dangerous than the dirt road.”

“Yeah. Okay. You think you can find it on your map?”

Almost certainly not, thought Zeus, but he tried anyway, unfolding the map and staring at it for a while. It was too dark to see it without putting it right up to his eyes. And even that was futile. The roads over the Chinese border were just narrow red squiggles.

“I don’t know,” said Zeus finally. “Come on.”

They moved slowly toward the underbrush. The sound seemed to move away from them.

They stopped for a rest after a few minutes. Christian was wheezing.

“You all right?” Zeus asked.

“Let’s just keep going.”

A few minutes later, Zeus heard the sound of a truck approaching. Instinctively, he dropped to his knees and turned toward it. It was on the hard-paved road to the right.

It was moving slowly northward. A troop truck.

Maybe bringing dinner to pickets or sentries farther north. He could smell something, a fire, food.

Zeus took a half step toward it, thinking he would hail the driver, but then stopped. He had to be sure it was Vietnamese.

They waited until they couldn’t hear the truck anymore. Then they started again, walking southward steadily. Finally Zeus saw something through the leaves — a building, and wire. He stopped, crouching next to a tree, as much for support as cover.

“That’s either a Vietnamese,” he told Christian, “or a Chinese border post.”

“Well, which is it?”

“Which do you want?” Zeus sidled to his left, trying to get a better view.

“Whichever is closer to my bed.”