Escape From Saigon

This is my submission for the Wine and Old Lace event. I'd like to thank Nora Fares and Bebop3 for giving me reads, and special thanks to my Sweet Inspiration blackrandl1958 for her advice and editing.

I was working in the US Embassy in Saigon towards the end of the war. I wish I could say that I was doing something glamorous, or exciting, like a CIA operative or a military attaché, but I was just another pencil pusher.

I had actually put in for this assignment, wanting to do my part to "save the world from the Red Menace," but it didn't take too long for disillusionment to set in. The South Vietnamese didn't really like us and had no interest in American-style democracy. We were just another tool in their civil war with the North.

I resigned myself to just doing my job, serving out my term then never seeing this God-forsaken country again.

Then she came into my life.

Tran Van Hoa was a new employee at the Embassy, working at our reception desk. She spoke perfect English, with just a slight accent that I found charming.

We were cautioned about romantic liaisons with the locals, though it wasn't forbidden, but honestly, it wouldn't have mattered to me if it was forbidden, I had to get to know this exotic beauty better.

I found her incredibly attractive. She had long, shiny black hair that she usually kept in a bun, but she occasionally wore it down and when she would absent-mindedly push it behind her ear, she would reveal the cutest elfin ears. I wish I could say that her face would have rivaled Helen of Troy's, but that would be a gross exaggeration. There was just something about it that drew me in. Her look was both exotic and girl-next-door; if the girl-next-door was Vietnamese. She always greeted me with a warm smile. While I must admit that she did that to everyone, I flattered myself that it was just a little brighter for me.

She always called me Daniel, which may not be notable as that is my name, Daniel Cohen, but most people call me Dan, which I prefer, or Danny, which I hate, but somehow it just felt so right when she called me Daniel.

I fantasized about Tran constantly, sometimes the fantasies were romantic, sometimes, I have to admit, they were quite erotic.

I finally realized that fantasizing was getting me nowhere, and I had to shit or get off the pot, so the next morning I strode into the embassy exuding more confidence than I felt and walked straight up to her desk.

"Good morning, Daniel," she said. "What can I do for you?"

I was like a schoolboy asking a girl to the school dance, shifting nervously from one foot to the other.

"I . . . I was wondering if you'd like to join me for lunch, sometime."

"'Sometime?'" she asked with a smile. "Could you be more specific; I have a very busy social calendar."

I could tell she was playing with me, I could only hope that it was meant to be friendly. Well, "faint heart never won fair lady," so I went for it.

"Could you make it today, around noon?" I asked.

She continued to tease me with a mock thoughtful look, tapping a finger on her chin.

"I do believe that works," she said. "See you here at noon?"

"Yeah, yeah, noon," I said, almost embarrassed at how naive I made myself look, then hurrying off, hearing her soft giggles behind me.

I'd like to say that our date was filled with meaningful glances and sparks flying, but it was just your typical first date, getting to know each other.

I began by nearly putting my foot in my mouth.

"Please don't take this the wrong way, Tran," I said, "but your English is excellent."

"Oh, I'm not insulted," she said, smiling. "I take it as a compliment. My parents knew that there would be no future for me in Nha Trang and made sure I received the best education possible, first at a local convent school, then as conditions worsened they sent me to the city to live with relatives here.

"What about you, Daniel? What brings you to our country?"

I had to think for a moment.

"Nothing very dramatic. I graduated from college with a degree in Political Science. Unfortunately, the job market for Poli-Sci majors without advanced degrees was pretty sparse, and going back to school wasn't really in the cards.

"I wasn't really sure what I wanted to do with my life, when I went to a job fair and happened to find myself at a State Department booth.

"The recruiter made it sound very glamorous, a chance to see the world on the government's dime, and I applied on the spot. I was hired and found myself filing papers in a basement. I saw the posting for the job here and went for it. I saw it as a chance to get out of the country and aid in the fight for "freedom and democracy."

"I was soon disabused of that notion, and I was counting the days until I could return home . . . but now I find myself not quite so anxious," I said with a shy smile that I was pleased to see returned.

"So, tell me about Nha Trang. You said there was no future there. Why not?"

"Nha Trang is a poor fishing village. Most young people leave for the city as soon as they're able, leaving behind mostly the very young and very old. At the convent school I showed a knack for language, and soon was fluent in both French and English.

"When I left for the city I was very frightened. I had never even visited Saigon, and had a difficult time finding my relatives' home. My aunt made it clear that I would have to pay my own way, but I had no skills suitable for the city.

"My cousin said he had some "friends" who might be able to use me, but my aunt rapped him across the knuckles, and warned me not to listen to him.

"At the time I didn't know what they were talking about, but I soon learned, and it made my skin crawl. I stayed as far away from my cousin as I could after that.

"I looked for work everywhere, and was losing hope until I saw a help wanted sign in a French restaurant. When they found that I could speak French and English as well as Vietnamese they hired me on the spot.

"I had never waited on tables before, but I learned quickly, and while it was physically demanding, it wasn't difficult.

"Not to seem immodest, but I know how I look . . ."

I smiled at that and she playfully slapped my hand.

"I learned that a big smile and a friendly manner earned me large tips, and I was soon able to afford my own apartment. I think my aunt and uncle were happy to see me go, my cousin not so much, but I was VERY happy to get away from him.

"While I enjoyed the work and meeting people, I knew I didn't want to be a waitress forever. One day it was slow, and I was chatting with one of my regular customers. He told me about a job opening at the embassy. I applied and got the job."

"Well, I'm certainly happy that you're here," I said grinning.

We made idle chit-chat while we ate lunch, and all too soon it was time to return to work. Not wanting to advertise our relationship (was I getting ahead of myself?), we parted outside the Embassy with a gentle hug and a dinner date for Friday night.

Somehow, my work didn't seem so drab as I waited for Friday to come.

Tran said that I should dress casually, so I wore a pair of nice slacks with an open-collared shirt and a sports jacket. I still have that jacket, though it looks silly with the wide lapels that were the style back then.

I went to the address she gave me in the French Quarter of the city and rang the bell.

I was blown away by the vision I front of me. Tran was wearing what by today's standards would be a fairly modest LBD, but for mid-70's South Vietnam was pretty hot. It was sleeveless, grazed her knees and had just a hint of cleavage. Her hair was out of its usual bun and flowed around her face down to her shoulders.

She obviously got the reaction she was looking for, as she just smiled, hooked her arm through mine and got us moving down the street.

I finally found my voice.

"God, Tran, I always thought that you were pretty, but you're gorgeous!"

She blushed.

"I should hope so; I worked hard enough at it!"

It was my turn to blush, and I started to stammer that she didn't really have to, although that sort of contradicted my greeting. She took pity on me and smiled as she touched two fingers to my lips.

"It's okay, Daniel, I understand."

She had me take her to a nicer French restaurant, where she dazzled me with her fluent French.

"Tran," the maitre d' said as he led us to a table in a cozy corner, "how wonderful to see you again. How is the new job working out?"

"Quite well, thank you, Jacques."

"I am happy for you, though we all miss you here. Who is this handsome young man? Is it he who has stolen you from us?"

"This is Daniel, my copain, and I met him at my new job."

Jacques looked me up and down.

"Any friend of Tran is always welcome in our humble establishment, Daniel, please take good care of her, she is very special to us," he said. He handed us our menus and went on to other customers.

"Tran, what does copain mean?"

"It's . . . It's just a French term, Daniel, don't worry about it."

I wanted to ask her again, but I could tell that she didn't want to talk about it, so I let it pass.

The menu was a mystery to me; exotic dining for me was having Swiss cheese on my cheeseburger. I followed Tran's lead and had her order for both of us.

I didn't, and still don't know anything about wine, but I pretended to enjoy her selection, and she pretended not to notice.

I had to use the men's room, and when I came out Jacques was passing by.

"Jacques, may I speak to you for a moment?"

"But, of course, Monsieur, what may I do for you?"

"I'm afraid that my French is very poor. What does copain mean?"

Jacques raised an eyebrow, and gave me a small smile.

"Why, it means boyfriend, Monsieur," he said, chuckling as he walked away.

Boyfriend? I wasn't complaining, but this was awfully fast, and here I thought that I was getting ahead of myself!

I chose not to say anything to Tran yet, but filed it away for future reference.

It was a leisurely dinner, so it was too late for any post-dinner activity, but we did take the long way back to her apartment.

Almost as soon as we hit the sidewalk her soft warm hand found mine, and our fingers interlaced.

I was a little nervous being out so late, the city still abuzz with activity, but Tran didn't seem to be at all concerned, so I relaxed as much as I was able.

It would be nice to be able to say that we professed our undying love to each other, but we hardly spoke at all, just soaking in the experience.

When we reached her apartment we thanked each other for a wonderful evening, and I leaned in for a friendly hug, but she wrapped her arms around me and pulled me in tight.

As we broke the hug, she took my face in her hands, gave me a tender kiss on the lips and slipped into her apartment.

I stood in a daze for a moment before making my way home to some very pleasant dreams.

The next morning I approached her desk with a small vase of flowers.

"I . . . I just wanted to thank you again for the date last night," I said.

"You're quite welcome, but don't you think that I should be thanking you?"

"I suppose so, it's just that, it's just that . . ."

"Relax, Daniel, I'm just teasing you. Are those for me?" she asked, nodding at the flowers.

"Oh, yes, yes," I said, almost knocking it over as I placed it on her desk.

"They're very lovely," she said. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, Tran, but I guess I'd better get to work. I'll talk to you later," I said moving away, listening to her charming giggles.

Over the next several weeks we dated regularly, often going to nightclubs where our slow dances gradually got closer, but nothing inappropriate.

Our goodnight kisses grew more passionate, but my hands never wandered, and the dates always ended at her door. Until they didn't.

"Would you like to come in?" she asked me, her eyes looking down.

"Why not? I am your copain after all!" I teased.

She blushed, opened the door and we entered her neat apartment. I sat on her couch as she made tea, brought two cups over and set them down.

"Daniel, I'm sorry, that was quite . . . impetuous of me. It was our first date, but it just felt right . . ."

"Tran, it's okay, I felt it too, after that first lunch."

Her eyes went wide as she fell into my arms and our lips came together.

The tea got cold as we made out on the couch. Tran was very proper, and our session probably wouldn't even get an "R" rating, but it was still one of my most erotic experiences.

Our dates more or less alternated between going out for dinner, and Tran making us dinner, with the occasional attempt by me to make dinner; the less said about that, the better.

Our make out sessions got a little warmer, but clothes never came off. The farthest we got was a hand under her shirt with her bra on.

One might think that I would be getting frustrated, but I was patient. I knew I was falling in love, and I was looking forward to a lifetime together, and could wait until she was ready.

The war was going badly, though all the news said that we were "winning," whatever that meant.

I had been practicing my cooking, and felt ready to invite Tran over again, but nothing could have prepared me for what was going to happen.

We had just sat down to dinner, and Tran seemed nervous, but I knew better than to press her, she would tell me in her own time.

"Daniel," she said, "I need to go home."

"But you just got here!"

"No," she said with a gentle laugh, "Not now, but I need to go to Nha Trang to check on my parents."

"Tran, no, it's far too dangerous."

"I know, but I have to. My family made many sacrifices to enable me to get an education, to escape village life. This might be my . . . my last chance to see them."

She started sobbing, and I went around the table and knelt beside her, taking her in my arms. She settled down and I returned to my seat.

"When will you be leaving?" I asked.

"Tomorrow morning."

I was stunned, I had no inkling she had been planning this.

Neither of us had any appetite, so I put what I could in the refrigerator and dumped the rest. I then walked Tran back to her apartment.

"Please come and sit with me, Daniel."

"Of course," I said.

Tran made some tea and turned on the radio, though I don't think either of us was even listening.

Neither of us said anything, but the silence was full of meaning. We both knew that this might be the last time we would be together.

When it got late, I stood up to go, but Tran grabbed my hand.

"Please, Daniel, stay with me, I don't want to be alone tonight."

I was surprised. Tran was very conservative and traditional, we had never even seen each other naked, let alone had sex. Blood returned to my big head, and I realized that she just wanted to be held, so I nodded my head.

I took care of my business in the bathroom, then she went in.

I stripped down to my underwear and got into bed.

The bathroom door opened, and before she turned out the light I could see her figure silhouetted in her nightgown. Blood rushed once more to my little head until I thought, down boy, and lifted the blanket for Tran to climb in.

"Thank you, Daniel," she said as she gave me a soft kiss, then settled down, spooning into me.

She surprised me when she pulled my arm over her and placed my hand on her breast, and I'm sure she could feel me against her rear, but we went no further.

I awoke to the smell of strong coffee and breakfast cooking. My stomach growled, reminding me that we never did eat the previous night, but at that moment I had a more pressing need and headed to the bathroom.

When I came out of the bathroom, breakfast was ready, and we sat down to eat.

Breakfast was a somber affair without much conversation, neither of us wanting to address the elephant in the room.

Once the dishes were cleaned and put away, we could avoid it no longer.

"Tran, please don't go, I don't know what I would do if anything happened to you."

"I'm sorry, Daniel, but I have to go. If the worst happens, and I missed this last chance to see my parents, I would regret it for the rest of my life."

I could only nod my agreement. Family was very important to her, and that was one of the things that I admired about her.

We hugged for what I feared might be the last time, and it was hard for me to let her go.

She picked up her small suitcase and I walked her to the bus station. I offered her some money, but she said that she was all set. I gave her one last hug before she boarded the bus, then stood and watched it pull away until it was out of sight.

I lost myself in my work, trying not to worry about Tran, but I spent many sleepless nights tossing and turning, concerned about what might be happening.

We thought she might be gone for about two weeks, but conditions were so unpredictable, we really had no idea.

About a week after Tran left, the news from the field wasn't good; the PAVN (Peoples' Army of Vietnam) was on the move. I wanted to go to Nha Trang, but it was impossible. Travel for Americans was too dangerous, I didn't speak the language, and there was nothing I could do if I got there.

I still wasn't expecting Tran for another week, so I tried, with limited success, to pretend that she was just having a good visit with her family.

When the end of the second week arrived with no sign of Tran, my worries exploded to the surface and I was barely able to keep it together.

One night I was unable to sleep worrying about her, when there was a panicked knocking on my apartment door.

I opened it to find Tran Van Hoa in tears. She was dirty and disheveled, her clothes torn, and she threw herself into my arms.

It took me a while to calm her down. As soon as I could disentangle myself I made some tea and brought a couple of cups to the bed, sitting down and handing her one.

As she sipped nervously, I rubbed her back.

"Can you talk about it?" I asked gently.

"Oh, Daniel, it was horrible! I had only been there a few days. My parents, while they were happy to see me, tried to get me to leave. They had heard horror stories from nearby villages, and were afraid that they would be next.

"But, I couldn't just leave. It had been months since I had seen them, and I didn't know when I would see them again. They buried their fears and we had a pleasant couple of days, then we heard gunfire from the outskirts of the village. It was a PAVN patrol.

"They were going house-to-house dragging people out. Most were being sent to "reeducation camps," though I had heard that the women . . ."

She broke down crying, burying her head in my chest. I could only hold her, my anger at the lowlifes who could treat their own people that way reaching the boiling point. As she regained her composure she continued.

"The village leaders were shot in the head. I'm ashamed to admit that I thought that they might be the lucky ones, that they were spared the lives of misery the others would have as captives of the PAVN."

With that, she ran out of gas, and fell into a restless sleep. I stretched her out on the bed and took off what was left of her shoes. I got a damp cloth to wipe down her face and hands, then lay down next to her and took her in my arms. She shuddered then relaxed.

In the morning, I took her into the bathroom, removed our clothes, then washed her gently in the shower. That was actually the first time we saw each other naked. She seemed alternately to luxuriate in the hot water, and break down in tears. When we were done I dried her off, wrapped her in a robe, and went into the kitchen to make breakfast.

We ate in silence. She didn't seem ready to talk, and I didn't want to press, I knew she would tell me what she could when she was ready.

After I cleared the table, we sat with our second cups of coffee when she continued her story, sometimes barely speaking above a whisper.