"The Edges of War"
by
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"-- Beggars would ride" It was April 15. The Khmer New Year had passed without the slightest bit of celebration. Neighbors spoke of rocket attacks at the airport and that government troops were streaming back to the city. Dad again tried to call Mom, but either there was simply nothing or an irksome busy signal that seemed to drive Dad and Uncle Sophan mad. Even calls to the airport met with the same nothingness. The electricity had gone off and on throughout the night, and water barely trickled from the faucet. The toilet didn’t flush properly, and the bathroom began to stink of human waste. It smelled like the small alleys of Stung Treng, and I thought that the awful smells had followed and found us. Uncle Sophan left about mid-morning, saying that he would find out what was going on at the hospitals, as Dad wanted Grandmother to get some proper care. When he returned a few hours later, he spoke with Dad in a hushed and excited tone. Dad told me to pack now, and he rushed to his room to do the same. It took me but five minutes, as I had not completely unpacked. Uncle Sophan literally threw everything into the back seat and off we went to try to reach the airport. It was a madhouse. I cannot begin to describe the clutter of human beings walking the roads, sitting or sleeping on the sidewalks, or moving things by any means possible: shopping carts, bicycle rickshaws, any and all kinds of vehicles, most not running, all moving with purpose to an unknown place. Soldiers in uniform were removing shirts and trousers without any sense of shame as they plodded along, leaving remnants of their war littered on the streets for others to tear at. I saw the eyes of my fishing friend in the crowds around us; full of fear or hopelessness they forgot the simplest meaning of courtesy as they pushed others aside, slammed against our nearly motionless car, panic having seized them as they looked for a way out. Their hostile actions only threatened our own chances of escape. In three hours we hadn’t gone more than a mile or two before Uncle Sophan convinced Dad to return home. He said that at least there we were safe, but in these crowds we may never have a second chance. So, we went back to our own shelter and sanctuary to find that Grandmother was dead. All Dad’s fears about not seeing Grandmother before her death resurfaced, and he blamed his desperate need to flee as the reason for her death. We all have our time, Uncle said soothingly to him. Grandmother looked peaceful, her back no longer bent, and surely she was in pain no longer. I thought about my "gift" and realized that it couldn’t possibly have been true. TUYET AN "Tony, I will bring you to a Vietnamese island where there are no soldiers, only fishermen. I cannot speak with them for you for I do not know their language. I can only offer you the chance you want. Tuyet An is your only reason for being here. Fishing is mine. Now is the time, I think, that we should continue with what we want to do." "Thank you, sir. You have done everything I have asked of you and I am very thankful. Without you, Tuyet An would never be mine. Now I can almost feel her in my arms." "I will pray for you, Tony, and that you find your Tuyet An." "Thank you, captain. Here’s a toast to you for your kindness." They clinked the chipped glasses and drained the remaining brandy as they stared into each other’s eyes, searching for something still lost. The following evening, using the limited moonlight provided by Providence, the captain skillfully maneuvered the craft toward the east side of a long stretch of land where waves gently lapped the sand. A few clumps of trees and a rise of perhaps ten meters showed that this was a place that remained above the waters. A couple of lights, probably campfires, could be seen on the far side of the island. It was no more than a 50-meter swim and Tony was ready to go. A small plastic bag with the few things Tony would need were attached to his waist by a five foot rope. He climbed over the side, noticed the name of the boat – ARNELIO – for the first time, and went into the warm waters of the South China Sea. Though not a powerful swimmer, Tony easily crawled his way to land. From the shore, a shadow waved back to the captain and crew as the ship that delivered Tony continued to the south. "Farewell, son," was all the captain could think to say. He then whispered a prayer to God and Saint Andrew that all would be well for Tony and Tuyet An. He could do no more. Tony stood on the mostly rocky shore, his hand high in the air in a long goodbye. A soft wind tickled at the hair on his arms and legs giving him a chill despite the warmness of the night. He was excited about being back in Vietnam and so close to Tuyet An. He was convinced that the fishermen, whose banter he could hear in the distance, would be friendly and willing to help. Their laughter was already infectious and he was feeling a sense of camaraderie with them, comparing them to the crew he had just left. If he could make them understand his needs, all would be well. BARREL OF A GUN The exhausted rangers and their commander huddled around the four clay pots seeking their warmth. The rain fluctuated between light drizzle and a heavy downpour, at which time any conversation would have been pointless. Water dripped from the roof of thatch and, in no time at all, small puddles had formed on the earthen floor. With the dampness the air seemed much cooler than a tropical August night should have been, and the rangers could, at times, see their own breath. The chill would only get worse as the night wore on. Much later, near midnight, the "hounds" came in to discuss the morning’s plan. During a lull in the rains, they briefed the group on their preparations and how they would support the rangers. They passed the codes and special words to be used, where the support elements would be, and at what time, until the bits and pieces completed the picture. The "hounds" resisted informing their compatriots of just how many men they controlled –"enough for the mission" was all they would willingly admit. They had to protect as many people as possible if anyone got caught. *** The "Frog" paced the room that Thursday night, concerned more for his own reputation than the outcome. The lives of his rangers were not even a secondary thought. He wanted the American caught and to have that country’s government embarrassed before the court of international opinion. He believed that they, despite years of friendship, had turned their backs on him personally when things began to go bad in the country. They would pay for that, he thought as he sipped his cognac. *** Thim too paced as he went through each step to be taken. He kept hoping for one more night to prepare himself but knew that it was always like that. His years of frustration at being one step away from the action were ending right here, where his brother was born and died; his father too. And hundreds of thousands of others. One well-placed shot would begin the retribution.
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About the Book
The Edges of War
In "-- Beggars would ride" a Cambodian-American teenager, Haw, returns to his roots to help the spirit of his dying grandmother. The tale presents a hard-hitting contrast between Haw, more American than not, and a childhood friend, who runs from a vicious father to join the ranks of the Khmer Rouge. One attempts to survive on his own after the city of Phnom Penh is evacuated, while the other loses himself in the insanity of the communist movement in Cambodia.
"Tuyet An" is the girl of Tony’s dreams, which he only fully realizes after his tour of duty in Vietnam. As the war draws to its sad conclusion, Tony makes every effort to return from his stateside life to find her and bring her home. His travels bring him through Thailand, the Philippines, and finally back to Vietnam just after the fall of Saigon. Tony’s story is learned from the efforts of an Air Force NCO involved in the search for America’s prisoners of war and those still listed as missing in action. "Tuyet An" is based on a true story, and the author needed the permission of the American intelligence community to write it.
Shadow leaders of the Cambodian government fear exposure in any UN tribunal of the former Khmer Rouge leadership, so they opt to contract out a final solution in "Barrel of a Gun." Unknown to these leaders, a Cambodian-American, trained sniper from the Marine Corps, plans for revenge when he learns of the death of family members at the hands of the Khmer Rouge. He seeks out the assistance of a Thai Special Forces friend who is linked to the planned killings. The killers want their scapegoat and see one in the Marine, who blindly follows the instructions given him.
The heroes in these tales are ordinary people calling upon extraordinary resolve to survive, to triumph, and to end the haunting of Cambodia’s past. Readers are in for a different kind of ride, as they are led to The Edges of War.
About the Author
Brian Dougherty is a new author who taps his 20 years of experience working Indochina issues for the United States intelligence community and the private security industry to offer three novellas of adventure, love and revenge. During his Air Force career, he spent time as a radio operator on reconnaissance aircraft, searched for American POWs and MIAs, and led a debriefing/interrogation team along the Thai-Cambodian border. Since his retirement and entry into the commercial security world, he has conducted investigations in seven Southeast Asian countries. Mr. Dougherty, who calls Bangkok home, speaks Thai, Vietnamese and Khmer, and currently manages the Thailand office for an international security firm.