The Sympathizer

No wonder, then, that I was drawn to the General, who, like my friends Man and Bon, never sneered about my muddled heritage. Upon selecting me for his staff, the General said, The only thing I’m interested in is how good you are at what you do, even if the things I ask you to do may not be so good. I proved my competence more than once; the evacuation was merely the latest demonstration of my ability to finesse the fine line between the legal and the illegal. The men had been picked, the buses arranged, and, most important, the bribes for safe passage bestowed. I had paid the bribes from a satchel of $10,000 requisitioned from the General, who had submitted the request to Madame. It’s an extraordinary sum, she said to me over a cup of oolong in her salon. It’s an extraordinary time, I said. But it’s a wholesale bargain for ninety-two evacuees. She could not disagree, as anyone who placed their ears to the railroad tracks of gossip in the city could report. The rumble was that the price of visas, passports, and seats on evacuation airplanes ran to many thousands of dollars, depending on the package one chose and the level of one’s hysteria. But before one could even pay a bribe, one needed to have access to willing conspirators. In our case, my solution was a louche major whom I had befriended at the Pink Nightclub on Nguyen Hue. Shouting to be heard over the psychedelic thunder of CBC or the pop beats of the Uptight, I learned that he was the airport’s duty officer. For a relatively modest fee of a thousand dollars, he informed me who the guards at the airport would be for our departure, and where I might find their lieutenant.

All this arranged, and myself and Bon having retrieved his wife and child, we assembled for our departure at seven o’clock. Two blue buses waited outside the villa’s gates, windows encased in wire grilles off which terrorist grenades would theoretically bounce, unless they were rocket-propelled, in which case one relied on the armor of prayers. The anxious families waited in the villa’s courtyard while Madame stood on the villa’s steps with the household staff. Her somber children sat in the Citro?n’s backseat, a blank, diplomatic mien on their faces as they observed Claude and the General smoking in front of the car’s headlights. Passenger manifest in hand, I called the men and their families forward, checking off their names and directing them to their buses. As instructed, each adult and teenager carried no more than a small suitcase or valise, with some of the children clutching thin blankets or alabaster dolls, their Western faces plastered with fanatical grins. Bon was last, steering Linh by her elbow, she in turn holding Duc’s hand. He was just old enough to walk confidently, his other hand balled around a yellow yo-yo I had given him as a souvenir from the States. I saluted the boy, and he, frowning in concentration, stopped to detach his hand from his mother’s and saluted me in return. Everyone’s here, I said to the General. Then it’s time to go, he said, grinding his cigarette under his heel.

The General’s last duty was bidding farewell to the butler, the cook, the housekeeper, and a trio of pubescent nannies. Some of them had made entreaties to be taken along, but Madame was firm in saying no, already convinced of her excessive generosity in paying for the General’s officers. She was correct, of course. I knew of at least one general who, having been offered seats for his staff, sold them to the highest bidder. Now Madame and all the help were weeping, except for the geriatric butler, a purple ascot tied around his goitered neck. He had begun his days with the General as an orderly when the General was only a lieutenant, both of them serving under the French during their season of hell at Dien Bien Phu. Standing at the bottom of the steps, the General could not meet the old man’s eyes. I’m sorry, he said, head bowed and bared, cap in hand. It was the only time I had heard him apologize to anyone besides Madame. You’ve served us well, and we’re not serving you well. But none of you will come to harm. Take what you want from the villa and then leave. If anyone asks, deny that you know me or that you ever worked for me. But as for me, I swear to you now, I will not give up fighting for our country! When the General began weeping, I handed him my handkerchief. In the ensuing silence, the butler said, I ask for one thing, sir. What is that, my friend? Your pistol, so I can shoot myself! The General shook his head and wiped his eyes with my handkerchief. You will do no such thing. Go home and wait for me to return. Then I will give you a pistol. When the butler tried to salute, the General offered him his hand instead. Whatever people say about the General today, I can only testify that he was a sincere man who believed in everything he said, even if it was a lie, which makes him not so different from most.