THINGS IN COMMON

Hu was a small man even by Vietnamese standards. His arms and legs were no larger than standard plumbing pipe, and the encompassing skin was tanned a nut brown, almost ochre, and totally devoid of hair. His eyes had an ivory cast emphasizing the dot-like pupils constantly dancing in their orbs, as he scanned the jungle that was his home. Hu had one characteristic that caused him to forsake the population for a very solitary life—he was a leper. 

Hu’s fingers were mere nubs at the major joints. He had the stub end of both thumbs and a single unaffected pinky finger. With these assists, he was able to feed himself. His bathing requirements were minimal, but as all Vietnamese, he was personally fastidious, and would lie in a nearby creek every morning and at dusk, to cleanse himself of the daily detritus collected by a solitary life.

As a leper, he was warily allowed in the local villages and made no effort to integrate. People took pity on him and usually left some small token of food or clothing at locations he was known to traverse. In this theatre of constantly ebbing and flowing civil war, Hu was viewed as neutral and non-threatening by all the combatants. This was a major advantage to Hu’s full time occupation as an observer of both sides, as they moved back and forth in this transition area.

His isolation had, over time, developed a number of highly honed senses and competencies that served him well in issue avoidance. He easily melted into the deep green and could move quickly and surreptitiously—seeing everything but not being seen. It was a highly beneficial survival skill.

In the daily machinations of the area, now highly conflictive, Hu was able to observe both sides as they moved through his land on the way to their never-ending combat purposes. Hu noticed these movements and became an observer of each side—primarily for personal amusement and entertainment but also as a primer on avoidance. His skills at detailed observation held a larger purpose.

Once a week, he would undertake a particularly arduous transit to a mountain area well to the west of his normal activity. There, he would report what he had seen for the week to several Northerners dressed in civilian clothes. In return, he would be given a replenished bag of foodstuffs, as well as, several small bills of piasters and US MPC. The money was of little interest to him compared to the variety of foodstuffs. His favorite was always the half slices of papaya which he would wrap in wet mosquito nettings and then eat by simply pushing the soft fruit into his mouth with the palms of his stumped hands. 

This was a fruit and food universal to the area and one carefully guarded by those that cultivated them for both commercial and personal use. The VC and/or NVA would occasionally forage in a village. In some cases, depending upon cadre discipline, they would pay for the fruit at market price.  On other occasions, they would simply pluck the gourds off the trees as they passed below.

The ARVN’s invariably, simply stole the fruit from either the small village stands or climbed the trees during momentary rest breaks. The US forces were more circumspect and might haggle with a local wife or quickly hide a fallen fruit as they passed. Regardless of method, all who had a bite of the local papaya were duly impressed with its qualities.

This was a treat both sweet and refreshing. In the populated lowlands, Hu could not pick the fruit from the many trees as they were closely guarded by the villagers and the accompanying mongrel dogs that alerted at every intrusion. On very rare occasions, he might venture into a village and offer a portion of his pay, damply crumpled and wrapped in a dirty burlap sandbag, for papaya, a pack of Ruby Queens, dried fish or finely powdered coffee. But this was rare, as he treasured his isolation away from the curiosity and stares of the children. These were cruel stares he had endured from his earliest memories as he treasured the velvet anonymity the deep green afforded. There, he could savor the fruit, smoke a cigarette, and await the next visit.

Most often, he would cook a pot of rice deep in the jungle where the smoke could not be seen. His pot was an upturned ARVN helmet which he would place over three large bamboo stakes. Hu would build a small fire of splintered dried bamboo which burnt hot and virtually smokeless. A pot would last him for almost three days, allowing him a great freedom of movement as he tracked the wandering combatants.

His interlocutors were interested in the habits and tactics of both their own troops, as well as, that of the enemy. Hu was the validation or lack thereof, of deployed friendly elements, as well as, a reliable reporter of enemy tactics and techniques. In sum, Hu was a spy on both sides and a double agent but with handlers. 

What Hu reported in the sense of observed operations by both sides, was invariably the same for both sides. Initially, this made no sense to his handlers until they began to understand that all soldiers have a great deal in common doing common things. This is what he faithfully reported.

Hu would follow the oscillating beams of sunshine as they fell on the jungle floor with dancing shafts, reflecting the slight wind in the leaves above. It is not a pure, but obscure light, alternately lighting and shading the temporary travelers below. Under the sheltering canopy, the moisture and decaying organic matter on the floor created a velvet all-encompassing blanket of humidity, shrouding the passersby in a constant coat of wet liquid. 

They hunched over their loads and slowly plod along a barely discernible trail. The overall effect acts as a soporific, temporarily subjugating the normal stimuli of pain, privation, and exhaustion. The atmosphere acts as a gentle anesthetic, allowing the individual to progress where common human impulses would dictate an end to the exposure. This is the universal and unchanging condition of the competing corpora of War Zone D. Hu notes this effect on both sides, as it prevents them from any great alertness and allows him a reasonably close observation of their transit.

The combatants quietly file along the disappearing trail and plod, uncertainly, into whatever the future holds. This is a quiet patrol that could be of either side. Patrolling is a necessary and basic aspect of both sides, and a dreaded task regardless of uniform or cause. To the participants, they just wish for a safe journey and sufficient results to merit success absent mortal consequences. Hu notes the sameness and the predictability of actions.

The various accoutrements cling wet and sodden against each body with the hard metal of weapons and pack frames constantly digging into the slowly undulating bodies as they move. The nature of the equipment, while distinct to each side, has the same effect on the competing members. Ammo and grenades weigh heavily but are oddly comforting to the carrier. They are a personal insurance against the other group of similarly sodden and inquiring soldiers. In combination, they are a small mental shield against the constant uncertainty of the next step under the heavy green canopy.

In Hu’s mind, both elements are the same in terms of demeanor and performance. The uniforms seem to blend into the surrounding bush as they snake through the undergrowth. Hu, has on occasion, been unable to initially distinguish the unit until a shaft of light would illuminate a head shrouded by either a pith hat or a helmet. Common soldiers doing common things.

Ahead, shrouded in darkness and lost to sight, others are carefully, alertly, proceeding at a now glacially and pensive step. The eyes and brains have switched into the primordial survival mechanism that brought humans to where they are at this moment in time. Breath is artificially minimized and eyes laser-focused on the obscurities just beyond comprehension. They are exercising the stealth and cunning that allows an edge on survival and perhaps a golden millisecond where they can control by fire, whatever they sense, they may encounter.

As if acting on some subliminal order, the file behind quietly halts, its beginning and end indiscernible in the shrouding inky darkness at each end. Eyes anxiously glance at each leaf, shadow, and irregularity of place. The mind conjures potential subjects and threats without clear recognition. It is the endlessly repeated anxiety of all who trek in this place. Weapons are carefully and quietly aligned to the discernible vegetation on the flanks, as it disappears into the ebony black recesses—discernible objects of which may or may not emerge. The mental mix of the soldier’s mind.   

A signal is made by the lead element. The file quietly drops to the ground in alternating directions toward the flank, the length of the file. Quickly, the unit is draped in visual anonymity as the lead elements investigate what their senses signaled.  Hu’s vision is blinded by the action, but his developed senses still allow focus, much like a hunter and his prey. As a practiced observer, Hu patiently waits for the element to renew its transit. This is his job.

In the now halted element, the old soldiers use the respite to mentally and emotionally relax and to hopefully recover parts of their expended bodily fluids. Blood is restored to shoulders, starved by weighted straps and calves loosened of their ponderous loads. Specific spots of pain are reduced and momentarily eliminated. The universal soldier relaxing while anticipating the next act.

The young, untested and inexperienced, find their minds racing with an endless imagined flood of possibilities in this forbidding place. Their aches and pains are partially unrecognized with the engorgement of the mind’s eye. In time and fortune, they will acquire the skills of momentary relaxation enjoyed by their more experienced comrades. Their eyes dance from figure to figure and branch to branch, attempting to discern the presently indiscernible. Hu cannot see this, and it is not particularly relevant to his task. If he could, he would see and feel the human response as another common quality.

Just ahead, a somewhat larger trail is observed by the point element. The hard packed glistening mud, exuding minuscule drops of moisture, indicates a very recent passage. Who passed remains unknown to them.   Experience has proven that both sides utilize this area. It is the connective tissue between the Cambodian border and the more populated villages and rice farms to the north and east.

Hu knows the uniforms of those recently passed. He anticipates conflict as he is aware of the very near presence of both sides. His senses become increasingly acute as he maneuvers to a better vantage point, much like a director on a movie set preparing for the next take.

Through experience, Hu knows that both sides have used and have fought over this ground. Under the detritus of the jungle floor, an archeologist would find evidence of both sides in their constant ebb and flow of combat. 7.62 and 5.56 expended cartridge cases are mixed with the stitched metal links of Soviet machine gun ammunition and the differently shaped 7.62 cartridges for the AK 47. A dropped Claymore clacker trailing wire is nestled against the partial remains of an apple pie claymore that fell from the tree above. Both sides have utilized this ground for their purposes in an equal and balanced mode. Who arrives first, often determines the nature of the engagement.

Hu has seen the battles and the blood. His senses tell him when to expect confrontation, and he slips behind available cover to await the outcome. Most frequently, he hears the action but does not see it. Instead, he listens to the distinct cacophony of various weapons and knows by sound, which side is prevailing.  Once silent, he returns to his observation and notes the actions of the remaining forces as they tend to their just won ground.

The nature of the ground and its proximity to a bulldozed road makes this ideal claymore country. But first, suitable targets for either side must be found. The VC/NVA use both the trails and the road to move large bodies of troops quickly to and from the populated areas. Likewise, the US and ARVN use the road for similar purposes. It is a cat and mouse game conducted on ground very familiar to all who play here.

Hu is very familiar with the ebb and flow of forces, their tactics and their movements. He notes their common passages and understands when a major confrontation will take place. This serves him well, as he has selected a variety of positions that he knows will allow safe observation. Had he been a leader on either side, he would know with great precision where to place his forces and initiate action. 

A hasty reconnaissance is made by two personnel closest to the road net. They disappear for some time and then return. The dim shadows of hunched bodies can be discerned to most, as the data derived from the recon is discussed. Quickly, a decision is made and the group breaks up. Members of the decision makers infiltrate back to their subordinate charges, make quick whispers of orders, and with common gestures, signal the next event to the main body. 

The file turns obliquely to the original direction of advance and disappears into the green. Birds squall at the sudden disturbance to their residence but soon settle into silence. The body of troops quickly regains the exhaustion and bodily resignation previously common to all. 

Within the more junior, anxiety begins to build. Where are we going? What are we going to do? What will be asked of me? The ageless questions every soldier asks to himself as he travels toward his fate and fortune—whatever it may be. Color, ethnicity, and purpose make no difference. Here, equality of humanness is all that remains.   

The leadership has a plan, but it is not yet fully divulged. The body moves forward, a long centipede of caution and silence, broken only by the occasional snap of a branch or the sucking boot, discovering a hidden pool under the camouflaging leaf mold.

Suddenly, the more experienced sense a primordial moment of recognition. Something is not right. The point stops, and as if directed by an unseen conductor, the entire file drops to a knee and assumes alternating flank alertness. Two members of the point proceed while everyone else attempts, mentally, to become invisible. Hu understands the situation as if he wrote the script. He has seen both sides react in a mirror-like manner. He can almost predict the moment of closure.

Suddenly, an explosive violence rocks the front. A brilliant flash of light is followed by a thousand shards, clipping leaves and rendering rough tears into some exposed flesh. This is immediately followed by a dozen different spaced fans of muzzle flashes raking back and forth across the exposed frontal elements.

Ears are ringing, eyes flooded in stabbing bright flashes, and for some, painful surges from deep within the body core.  Each soldier attempts to make rapid sense of the situation and to follow the engrained response of past training. Only the training will be a salvation, if possible, for this predicament.

Where are they? Who are they? Can’t anyone say something helpful other than cry in pain?  Is anyone doing anything? What do I do? Can anyone help? Hu cannot hear the private questions, but he can easily understand them. He had asked himself the same at a much younger age when he was first aware of his condition.

What's that? Screaming.  A man is yelling something. My God, he is screaming for his mother. Who is it? Where is he?  He's screaming in my language, so he must be one of us!  Which one?  Goddamn it. Why is no one shooting? Can't anyone see the fucking bad guys?  Common comments, a shared condition. Only different languages.

Quickly, slightly slower than a nano-second, the personal internal questions cease, and individual actions begin. Triggers are squeezed. Grenades are tossed. People shout and make hasty movements in the cusp of whatever earth is provided that seems a likely shield. The noise, heat, and light rages indiscriminately from both sides, and then just as quickly, dies to a deafening sudden silence. A silence broken only by the slowly settling twigs, branches, the bark of excised vegetation, and the low snuffling pants of the deeply wounded. Hu simply relaxes into the ground and awaits the inevitable silence of combat cessation to be followed by the quick sharp phrasing of leaders as they recover their unit.

Where are they? Where did they go? Are we OK?  Check around. Quickly, the discipline of experience re-captures the group as it goes about recovery. Who is hit?  Someone tend to him.  Ammo status? Get organized here. Hu, now alerted by the silence, regains his position and watches the element as it recovers. Its actions are the same as the myriad others Hu has seen regardless of uniform.

Hu notes the language which is paired with the uniforms. He knows enough English to understand that what is said is the same as that said in Vietnamese. The accents are different, but the meanings are the same. The repetition, over time, cements the phrases in his mind. This is his mental menu for those things he cannot easily see but will report.

Just ahead, what remains of the point element can be seen by the main body. Two heaps of torn clothes and now exposed flesh are lumped along the trail in an untidy pile. From one, a small stream of deep arterial blood still quietly pumps through a spare shaft of sunlight. The arc quickly diminishes and then becomes invisible. The humanness of the pile is only demonstrated by the several identifiable limbs shown through ripped clothing, now soaked in a uniform ochre. Hu has seen this many times. The lumps and piles have worn several uniforms, but they are always lumps and piles, the common outcome of repeated conflict.

There are no more screams within the group. Wounds are stuffed, and a wordless triage performed. Some are placed against a tree where they can see the last light they ever will view. Others are assigned to a buddy to assist in the rest of the journey. There will be no quick and clean battlefield removals rendered here for either side. Hu has seen the protruding bones of some hastily buried combatants and the ripped bloody ponchos and trails advertising removal of others.

In time, the unit’s body picks itself up and begins the next phase of its movement and mission. The unit quietly inches toward the edge of the green to where it can discern the nature of the open ground and the several villages lining the flat exposed plains. Each soldier sees the tiny blue tendrils of smoke spiraling up from the thatched houses and wonders what this home harbors. Are they friendly?  Will they report us? Is it family dinner? What are we going to do? Hu knows the answers, depending upon which side is asking. But he cannot impart the answers, as the impartial observer where distance is a virtue.

Now emboldened by perceived strength, the unit begins to expose itself to the villagers, placing its filing soldiers between the village and the green—close enough to allow a quick disappearance and far enough to permit rapid, unimpeded passage. Confident in its comparative strength, it risks exposure for the value of rapid movement.

The connective trails and pathways between the houses are occupied by silent, watchful faces. Women, men, and children watch the passage with a variety of gazes. Some are clearly angry. Others harbor fear. Some smile, and some just look with that anxious quizzical glance of experience, not wanting to experience again that which these uniforms recalled. It is the common mix of expressions of those who are ostensibly not part of a conflict, but truly are. Friends and enemies course through their lives as does this passing patrol. Hu notes this and makes a silent evaluation of each family’s true loyalty which he will duly report and be rewarded with slices of papaya.

Hu sees all this, the soldiers, quietly trooping by. They have the same mixed visage regardless of uniform. These are the enemy. These are friendly. What do they really think? Is there an unseen threat within the depth of the village? Did they assist the other side in the recent engagement?  The soldiers ask themselves this. Hu knows.

Children, the naively young, stare in fascination at the undulating passing body. They know not yet the potential for either harm or good that this force possesses. In time, they will, and they will acquire the looks of choice of their parents. Should they live long enough—friends, enemies or allies are personally bequeathed descriptions rendered from experience. That will be forthcoming. Hu will note the choices.

Gradually, the body passes, and the village returns to its inward life. The soldiers move on to theirs. A situation to be repeated by all the players and common to all, regardless of uniform or time. Hu observes all this and is struck by the sameness. 

The faces change, but the uniforms execute actions common to all. This makes Hu’s task easy. He sees what others do not. There is no difference in either side but the uniform.

 Most soldiers, regardless of uniform, like papaya.