A former POW returns to Vietnam to find his missing wingman, 30 yrs after being shot down. |
Metallic waves rose and fell restlessly in the Hong Kong Harbor beckoning to wisps of ragged clouds that swept down from somber skies. The wake of a long past yard tanker repeatedly slapped the stone seawall sending salt spray ribbons high into the air. The rain had settled down to a fine mist by the time Li walked out of the Ocean Terminal building to pick his way between the water trails and random puddles on the waterfront pavement leading back to the Star Ferry. He had delivered the dinner that Jae-Soo sent over for his father and brothers as soon as she found out they would continue through the night loading a freighter that was scheduled to sail early the next morning. When Li asked if he could stay and visit with them while they ate, his father shook his head, “No, you should hurry back to help Jin-Jin finish up in the shop.” It had been two days since Harry Tam made his threat to take back the building. In that time no one spoke of the uncertainty that caused a dreary mood to close like a net over the Han family gift shop. A fever clutched tightly at Old Ching’s normally resilient spirit. The weight of an uncertain future could be seen in Yunsheng’s eyes. To the nine-year old mind of Li-Jung Han the universe was not in harmony, and it was his duty to find a way to make it right. He felt his father’s eyes follow him until he disappeared into the bustling crowd at the entrance to the Star Ferry Terminal Building. “Li! Hey, Li! Li, over here.” Li turned and looked back past a man and his wife gently tugging at two small children that refused to be hurried. Just beyond, a boy, slightly older, taller and chubbier than Li, waited until they passed to thread his way through the crowd. The boy, Wan Ji, laughed and waved with his right arm while his left hand held down a tray of cards that hung at his waist by a strap around his neck. “You look like a turtle,” Wan shouted out referring to the empty basket Li carried on his back; his arms threaded through the loops of the handles. Li waited apprehensively for Wan to catch up. He always felt ill at ease when Wan was around because of the condescending way he had of making derisive remarks and gestures. Wan lived with his grandmother, his only family and had recently left school to help support the two of them by working at odd jobs on the street. “And what are you doing so far from the sheltered streets of Sheung-Wan?” “I am only on an errand to assist my father,” Li answered evasively. “And you?” “Aha, I am the business entrepreneur.” He picked up a deck of post cards and adeptly fanned them in front of Li’s face. “Behold, picture cards and books to remember your special visit to Hong Kong: the landmark clock tower, the beautiful night-time Victoria skyline and the colorful Star Ferry-Boat.” “Do you sell many of these?” Li asked skeptically. “Ah yes, business is very good. My pockets are filled with Hong Kong dollars. American sailors are my very best customers. Let me show you.” Quickly glancing over each shoulder he slipped a card briefly from a slot under the tray then back again. The bare breasted girl in the picture peered seductively between discreetly placed bamboo fronds. Li tried to nonchalantly hide a little flush of embarrassment. “I’d better go now.” “Wait! You should come into business with me. We could be partners. I will show you how to sell to American sailors. It is a good time. Have you seen the American ships at anchor? One ship, named the Forrestal, is so big it has an airport on top. Very good customers.” Li started to move away, “I should get back.” “No, here, look what a sailor from the Forrestal gave me, a first class token for the ferry.” Li’s curiosity began to show. “I will give it to you. I want you to have it.” “Oh no, you keep it.” Wan took hold of Li’s wrist and pressed the token into his palm. Laughing he said, “It is fitting that my partner should take this. We will talk later. I think I am about to make a big sale.” He pointed to a group of sailors and started toward them leaving Li holding the token looking after him. Li looked down at his hand, shook his head and went through the gate. He hurried along the corridor wishing his pockets were full of Hong Kong dollars that he could use to satisfy Harry Tam and things would return to normal. His head swiveled right and left as he tried to read the signs on his way to the gate. Nearing the turn leading to the ramp warning bells began to ring followed by the waa-ump of the ferryboat horn. “Oh no!” Li broke into a run as fast as his tire tread sandals would allow. The gate operator methodically turned the wheel hoist that began to raise the ramp. Seeing his window of opportunity start to close, Li stretched his stride to the limit. The inattentive security guard looked up, too late to do more than make a token gesture with the palm of his white-gloved hand. Li was already committed. Pumping his legs up the incline, he executed a broad jump of spectacular form landing solidly on the wooden deck of the ferry. Ordinarily, that would have been the end of it. The four American passengers standing in a close circle would have continued their spirited conversation without looking around. However, on this particular ferry run an oily film left by hundreds of previously boarded passengers floated on the surface of a thin pool of water covering the worn entry section of the deck. Li’s sandals planed across the deck like water skis. He skidded from sandals, to tailbone, to the basket still attached to his back. His legs swung around catching the lady in the soft royal blue dress just behind the knees of her white lace covered legs. With a little scream, she sat down on a very embarrassed Li. They rolled in opposite directions. “Are you okay, little buddy?” The tall man in the beige camel hair coat chuckled lightly as he gently lifted Li to his feet. The other man with a camera strapped to his left hand reached down to help the lady in blue. Li spun around, bowing repeatedly as she got to her feet. “So sorry! So sorry!” “It’s okay, I’m fine,” she said, brushing off. Li’s uneasiness was partially distracted by his fascination with her long black eyelashes, deep red painted fingernails and the pearl necklace and earrings. She reached down to help him pick up the basket that had both handles torn loose. “I’m afraid I smashed your basket.” “So sorry,” he said again, backing away to sit on the nearest wooden bench. They all sat down on the bench facing Li, suppressing their smiles in deference to Li’s wide-eyed solemnity. He looked down to his feet then back up into an infectious smile from the lady sitting directly across, peering at him through a wisp of straw colored hair. Suddenly aware of how funny the incident appeared to each other they both laughed. “What’s your name?” the lady asked. “Li-Jung.” “Nice to meet you, Li-Jung. My name is Carla.” “Only say Li, everybody call me Li. “Fine, Li this is Art.” Art, the man who had helped him up, reached out and shook his hand. “And this is Betty,” Carla turned to her left and continued, “and that’s Grant on the end.” “Darn good shipboard landing,” Grant said, tipping his navy blue ball cap with the gold squadron insignia stitched above the letters VA-11. “Too bad they didn’t have the arresting gear rigged.” The ferry swung back to the left toward the opposite terminal after avoiding a tugboat that laboriously towed a giant barge crane. Betty pointed toward the horizon. “Look, you can see the Forrestal.” A ray of setting sun had found its way under the overcast and backlighted the carrier anchored about five miles out. Phantom like, it appeared to be floating on a cloud of fog just above the water. “What a magnificent picture,” Carla said. “Camera man, man the camera.” Grant dutifully stood and focused on the distant scene. “Too bad I don’t have a thousand millimeter lens. It’ll make an interesting dot in the center of a gray photograph.” “You told me that expensive zoom lens could do it all,” Betty said. After a couple of shots for the record Grant sat down facing forward, next to Li. Pointing he said, “That’s our ship.” Li’s eyes widened. “It has airport? Are you sailor?” “I guess you could say that. It’s called an aircraft carrier. We’re naval aviators.” “All four?” “Oh no,” pointing to Carla and Betty, “they’re the backbone of the Navy, Navy wives.” “Backbone?” “Never mind it’s an in joke. We fly, they shop.” “What means shop?” “They buy things, you know, clothes, shoes, jewelry.” “Ah! Jewelry!” Li’s mind shifted to high gear. Wan-Ji had said Forrestal sailors are very good customers. “You need jewelry? I have fine jewelry. Want to visit my jewelry factory?” “Hey, you guys are in luck,” Betty said, “factory prices.” Art looked at his watch. “Is your factory close by?” “Close by?” “Is it far from the Star Ferry?” “Oh no, not far. Very fine jewelry, good price.” “I have an idea, we haven’t ridden a rickshaw yet,” Carla said. “Could we get there by rickshaw?” “Yes you can go on rickshaw.” “Then it’s settled,” Grant said, “First, Li’s jewelry factory then on to the squadron party. Li, can you get us a squadron of rickshaws?” Li sat up straight and nodded decisively. “I get rickshaw.” The ferryboat reversed engines and let the current push it gently against Pier C4. Li marched off, battered basket under his arm, leader of the safari. The rickshaw drivers congregated in the shelter of a covered walkway at Connaught Road near the ferry exit. Li approached and explained the number and distance requirement. Seven rickshaws started forward. Li waved his arms and restated his needs to a man who seemed to be a lead driver. The man took charge, selected three to go with him and waved the rest back. The drivers chattered back and forth jockeying for position, then pointed to the Americans selecting who would go in which rickshaw. Carla sat to one side of the lead rickshaw. “Get in Li. We’re small; we can ride together.” Li hesitated. The lead driver told him to get in and away they went. The rain was gone, leaving a refreshing evening sea breeze blowing across their faces. Rickshaw feet beat a soft tempo over the hum of the wheels against the wet pavement as they wove in and out along busy streets lined with colorful lanterns and streamers. Li had never smelled anything like Carla’s perfume. “Hong Kong is beautiful,” she said. “You are very lucky to live here.” “How long you stay in Hong Kong?” Li asked. “Only five days. The ship leaves tomorrow.” “Are you sad?” Li asked even though he could see the answer in the expression on her face. “Yes and very worried. Worried because it is very dangerous for Art and Grant.” “Because they fly” “And because there is a war.” “My family come to Hong Kong because of war” “Then you know.” “My grandfather burn incense for god of war in Man Mo Temple.” “Maybe I should also.” The rickshaws turned left into a side street that rose steeply ahead of them and pulled over in formation. The driver spoke to Li who then translated the essence of the conversation. “We walk now. This is far as rickshaw go.” “Wait!” Grant said stepping out of the rickshaw. “This has to be documented.” To Li he gestured toward the rickshaw drivers. “Tell them we need to get their picture.” Under Grant’s directorship and Li’s assistance as translator the scene began to take shape. Rickshaws knelt fanned against the curb, drivers behind, passengers dutifully sitting on the edge of their seats. Grant framed, focused and made sure the flash unit was fully charged then turned it over to a passing gentleman, who, intrigued by the hullabaloo, nodded excitedly and agreed to press the button on request. Grant guided Li to the center, placed his cap on Li’s head and with a flourish announced, “For uncommon deportment in a situation of grave consequence I hereby designate you, Li-Jung, honorary member of Attack Squadron Eleven, authorized to wear the squadron emblem with honor.” Li beamed. Nine faces smiled into the camera. The flash froze the unpretentious moment of enchantment. Elated the two couples paraded after Li, arm in arm up Hillier Street, to the shop on Yu Hing Lane. “Welcome,” Jin-Jin greeted them with a series of little nods. Li, who had not forgotten his mission, pointed out a small sparsely appointed display case to Betty, “You like earrings?” “Oh yes!” “Wow! Art look at this.” The display of the three linked medallions caught Carla’s eye. Art bent over to get a better look in the side of the display case. Jin-Jin placed a burgundy jewelry cloth on top of the counter and arranged the medallions in front of them. “What do the characters mean?” Art asked. Jin-Jin pointed to each in order. “Loyalty, respect, courtesy. Conditions of human nature needed to be complete person. Also peace, good luck, health. Things needed for well-ordered life. See how they fit together into one.” She linked them together and held them up. They joined imperceptibly into a single piece. Carla looked at Art. “I want to get one for you to have when you fly, for good luck.” “What a terrific idea, I can get one for Grant.” Betty joined the conversation. “But there are three and they go together,” Art said. “No, No there are four. Wait, I will show you the other one.” Jin-Jin went to the workshop to retrieve the fourth medallion. When she returned, they all gathered around the counter to watch her fit the last one into place. Li was upset and visibly unhappy with Jin-Jin for showing the one that Old Ching had told him he could finish. The Americans observed the ensuing Chinese conversation with interest but without the vaguest idea of the content. Jin-Jin ended the disagreement by reminding Li that there would be no finishing if Harry Tam got them or put them out of the building. “Is there a problem?” Grant asked. “No problem,” said Jin-Jin, “This one only needs decoration around edge to make complete. You bring back tomorrow, we finish for you.” “What do the characters on this one mean?” Betty asked. Jin-Jin studied the medallion turning it in her hand. “This is the symbol for happiness and here it shows the quality of sincerity.” “I sort of like the plain edge,” Betty said. “The unfinished aspect appeals to me.” “I’m so excited. It’s such a perfect remembrance of our last night in Hong Kong,” Carla said. “Such good luck.” Li pensively watched Jin-Jin work the beads of the abacus to complete the sale including four gold chains. A mixture of sadness with satisfaction complicated his thoughts. Old Ching had put something special into the medallions: a mystery, hidden beneath the surface that could only be revealed later. Li wondered what it was. He knew there would never be another set like this. But he also knew selling them would allow the business to grow, granting a more secure future for his family. Jin-Jin handed the carefully wrapped package to Grant. He turned to Li and shook hands, “Partner, it’s been a pleasure.” He straightened the cap on Li’s head. “Until we meet again, remember you exemplify the finest squadron in the U. S. Navy.” After many good-byes and several head bows the ebullient group turned to go only to see Old Ching standing in the doorway, his white ethereal hair blowing softly in the still brisk sea breeze. The angular structure of his face was accentuated by the light from a paper lantern that hung to one side of the entrance. He bowed graciously and handed each of them a card with his name ornately lettered in raised script: Ching-Li Han, Fine Jewelry, 54 Yu Hing Lane, Hong Kong. Li moved attentively to his left side and grasped the frail arm to assist him back up the steps. Still looking straight-ahead Old Ching raised his right hand just enough to signal that he wasn’t finished. He bowed again and spoke mandarin tones in a clear ringing voice. When he stopped Li stepped forward and translated, “My grandfather asked me to say thank you, thank you very much. We are honored greatly that you chose to visit our little shop.” Old Ching continued pausing again for Li to translate, “For you, I wish good fortune and happiness may follow wherever you go. Only please to be aware, the power of the gold medallions to bring luck can only prosper as you remain true to your inner self and to each other.” |