There were many things he disliked about the old man, but even so, Ty liked and respected him more than anyone else.
Sometimes Ty observed him very closely, trying to find out where his Mr Sau did dwell in this short, wiry old man with his tanned skin, flat face, and kind eyes that were mostly warm but could also turn icy and severe. Was it possible that there were two of them in a single body?
Ty was already fifteen years old, but Mr Sau still thought of him as a little boy who badly needed care from grown-ups. He could not utter a single swear word without being strongly scolded by the old man. "How can you learn bad things so fast?" Another one of his constant reminders that never failed to anger Ty was, "You must study hard, my child."
***
At the liaison station Mr Sau was neither the head nor the deputy head. Nor was he a liaison man. In fact he was free lodger and did odd jobs for everybody like cooking, boiling water and repairing bed planks. Off and on, when there were not enough liaison officers at the station, he was entrusted with some minor jobs like sending away letters or documents or leading some guerrillas to another station. And yet, Mr Sau seemed to be somebody. "Ty, you must say ‘hello’ or ‘good-bye’ when you come in or go out. You just leave without our notice or go home without saying anything; that’s impolite. You must know how to behave yourself." There were many times Ty thought of leaving the station, but stayed on because he did not know where he’d go and what he’d do.
Ty’s father was a guerrilla who was killed during a mopping up operation by the enemy. Ty was just seven years old then. His mother married again soon after and left him for ever. He was forced to live with his paternal grandfather in the countryside. When he was 14, he was hired to look after a landlord’s buffaloes. When the freedom fighters attacked a blockhouse nearby and ran it over, he and his friends collected a lot of war trophies for them. On that occasion, he asked them to recruit him. "You’re too young to join the army," the commander of the unit told him. "Just stay at this liaison station and help our guerrillas for two more years. I’ll come back and employ you." So here he was.
***
He was much more useful than Mr Sau at the station, he told himself. He delivered urgent circulars and official letters to their destinations very quickly. Before the fighters launched an operation he scouted the terrain first to make sure it was secure, then returned and led them across it. Every task that was assigned to him, he did well. When he was recommended, he usually glanced at Mr Sau as if to say, "Look, I’m more important than you." Nevertheless, Mr Tu Hau told him one day, "Ty, I’ll entrust you to Mr Sau’s care. You must obey him all the time. It’s a military order."
Mr Sau’s orders often sounded very strange. "Ty, try to gather at least three bundles of firewood. That’s an order;" or, "Fill up these two tanks with water. They nearly ran out this evening." Or "Massage my back. It hurts a lot." "Is that an order, Mr Sau?" he once asked the old man. "Yes, it is. Do it quickly." No matter what they were, real orders or not, Ty obeyed them all and performed them well. In the process, his interest in Mr Sau deepened. Sometimes, from the bottom of his heart, he craved for something from Mr Sau, but could not quite figure out what it was.
That Sau sympathised with and liked him was very evident to Ty. But, on the other hand, he could understand that the old man treated him so seriously as well. Each time Ty fell ill, Mr Sau was so worried that he could not sleep. Once, when he had a very high fever, Sau stayed up all night, placing wet and cold towels on his forehead. When Ty regained consciousness, the old man shouted like a child, "Thank God, you are all right now. Don’t go out in the rain anymore." Ty was moved to tears. For a long, long time, except for his paternal grandfather, nobody had shown such feelings towards him. Time and again, he thought that he would like to have a father like the old man with his simple teaching and orders, "From now on, don’t do this, don’t do that." He would be very happy to comply with such instructions.
But a few days later, when he had completely recovered from his illness, Ty found Mr Sau a bit different. He did not give him orders any more. Without jobs Ty felt very annoyed. He wanted to hear his orders again. Any orders would be welcome, even the one that he often hated very much, "My child, get in and study."
***
From his childhood up to now, Ty had never seen the inside of a school. Now he had to spell syllable after syllable, word after word, and it was very unpleasant. As soon as he learnt a new word, he forgot the previous one. What was more, once Mr Tu Hau told him to address Mr Sau as "Teacher." "Could Old Sau be my master? Never," he told himself, although he vaguely knew that Mr Sau had previously been a village teacher. A howitzer shell had landed in the middle of his house, leaving him the sole survivor. Wandering about in his grief, he had stumbled across this station. Over time, thanks to his efforts, many people like Mr Tu Hau, Mr Chon Liem and Miss Thao had learnt the three Rs. Now they were able to read newspapers. Ty had not heard Mr Tu Hau address Mr Sau as Teacher, but Mr Chon Liem and Miss Thao always addressed him with great respect.
"If someone teaches you just one word, or even half a word, you should address the person ‘Teacher,’" says a Vietnamese proverb. But Ty was not convinced. Even if Mr Sau taught him thousands of words, he would never address him "Teacher." In his mind, a teacher had to be a tall man with a leather satchel and polished shoes that shone. Mr Sau was always bare-footed and usually in black pyjamas with unkempt hair. How could he be a teacher? So this instruction of Mr Tu Hau was one that Ty ignored totally.
***
For a week now, Ty had been in charge of keeping a lookout on Highway 4 for any signs of enemy activity, so that he could lead guerrillas across when the time came. It was only a week, but he missed Mr Sau very much. The more he missed the old man the more he felt guilty. Living among the guerrillas, Ty had earned their high appreciation because he was polite, considerate and obedient. "If only I’d learned more carefully as Mr Sau had told me to, I would have been further praised," Ty thought. He resolved that when he got back to the station, he would show his gratitude by studying hard.
As he returned to the liaison station after completing his mission on Highway 4, Ty came upon Miss Thao purely by chance. She’d been badly wounded by the enemy’s artillery shells. She was unable to speak clearly because her left cheek was injured. She gestured to him weakly as if she wanted him to do something. He brought her the handbag she usually carried. She took out of the bag a pencil and a notebook, then wrote something on a sheet, tore it and gave it to him. Hardly had he taken it when she fainted.
Looking carefully at the short note, he could not understand what she meant. He looked at her again and found blood oozing out of her wound. He hastily bandaged the wound and took her to a field hospital that had been rigged up in the district. There he entrusted her to the field physician. Suddenly, he remembered the letter. He asked a nurse to read it for him. The note said, "Move the station away at once. It’s been exposed. The enemy is going to make a round up in our locality." He felt the earth shake under his feet. One day had already elapsed. From the hospital to the station, it would take him at least one more day. It was too late! He did not even say good-bye to the nurse as he rushed out.
When he reached the station, he could not believe what he was seeing. The small tree trunks used as pillars for the liaison tent were now smouldering. The belongings of the people in the station had been torn up and lay scattered here and there. Mr Tu Hau lay prone with one arm bent inwards under his chest and the other stretched forward as if he was trying to catch something. In the kitchen, the tray Ty used to have meals with the liaison officers lay tilted and food was spilled everywhere. On the floor were many patches of dark-red blood. Swarms of flies flew up when they were disturbed, then came down again.
Ty felt bitterness rise in his throat. He walked to the tray. He knelt down, shouting aloud, "Father! Father!" His voice became weaker and weaker and was finally drowned in the rustle of the forest leaves. So Mr Sau had been taken away by the enemy.
Then he stared.
There was a trail of blood drops leading towards the kitchen garden. He tracked it with growing dread. The trail was getting fainter. Then he stopped abruptly. "The death zone," he whispered. But there was no stopping him now. He kept moving towards the bushes, ignoring the branches that blocked his way until he reached an area where fallen trees lay scattered. He walked past them with difficulty and came upon the twisted bodies of a reconnoitring squadron of eleven Sai Gon Army soldiers. Mr Sau was among them, in his tattered black pyjamas. His eyes were wide open, and there was no sign of severity or kindness in them, but they reflected the pride of having deceived the enemy into the death zone (a heavily mined area). His lips were half open as if he had smiled at Death. Ty knelt down and bowed to the old man, then lifted his body and hugged it tightly. His thin shoulders shook violently as he sobbed out aloud, "Teacher! My Teacher!"
Translated by Van Minh
