Goodbye, Vietnam Read Online Free

the swamp.
    Father swung Thant up on his shoulders, and I had to half drag Anh along with me. Mother was carrying both her own and our grandmother’s basket. Just when I wanted nothing more than to sink down on the ground, not caring whether the soldiers found us or not, we came up over the crest of a hill and there before us were the lights of Go Cong. “They look like fireflies,” Anh whispered. We all stood still, awed by the sight of such a large city.
    Now we were much less safe. The swamp and brush had fallen away. It was all open country. Small lakes and acres of paddies lay on either side of us. If soldiers came along there would be no place to run for protection. We hurried, but our father urged us to goeven faster. “We must get to the town before daylight.” Several times he took a scrap of paper from his pocket to memorize the drawing of the house of the man who would lead us to the boat. To ask directions in the city would be to draw attention to ourselves as outsiders.
    It was early morning when we reached the outskirts of the town. A shopkeeper was opening the shutters of his store to prepare for business. We could see that his shelves were nearly empty. From one of the street corners an officer watched suspiciously. Bicyclers passed on their way to work. I stayed as close to my parents as I could. Even our grandmother walked in my father’s shadow. I was disappointed at how shabby everything was.
    Father cautioned us to keep our eyes on the ground and not to gawk like country people. As we wandered through the narrow streets, he consulted his bit of paper. He was guiding us toward a house when a policeman blocked our way.
    “Where are your papers?” the officer demanded. He was thin and looked as though he had been on duty for many hours and still had many more hours to go. If father had shown our papers, the officer wouldhave known we came from a distant village. He would have been suspicious.
    “We live just outside the town,” my father said. “We are paying a visit to my cousin, who is ill. We were upset when we heard of the illness and did not think to bring our papers.”
    “What do you have there?” The officer reached out for the basket that held my father’s tools. Not only were such tools forbidden, but if they were discovered, they would be taken away. Then there would be no place for us on the boat.
    With a quick shove, my grandmother pushed her way in front of my father, giving the officer a sly grin. “Our relative, who is dear to us, is very sick, and we are bringing him nourishment to make him strong.” She pulled back the cover from her basket and the ducks thrust their heads up and looked about with wild, beady eyes. “It is possible that one duck might serve to feed him,” she said, “in which case this second duck might not be needed.”
    The officer looked longingly at the ducks and then over his shoulder. There was no one else on the street. His hand reached out and grabbed one of the ducks around its neck and snatched it out of the basket. Sogreat a look of pleasure came over the officer’s face, the duck might already be in his pot cooking instead of flapping about in his hands. He stuffed the bird inside his jacket and turned on his heel. As he walked briskly away, we could see the legs of the duck dangling out of his jacket.
    “The ducks you wanted me to leave behind,” my grandmother said smugly, “have saved our lives.”

4
    Father said, “Quickly, it is the house with the banana tree.” It was a poor-looking house with a few scrawny chickens scratching in the yard. No sooner had we started up the path than the door opened wide like a mouth hungry for food. We were hurried along by a man who called himself Quach Loc. His wife stood next to him. They looked more like brother and sister than husband and wife. Both were short and plump with round faces and pudgy, dimpled little hands. “Come in.” Quach Loc rushed us through the door, which he hastily shut.