Page 315 of Edge of Eternity (The Century 3)

But first the tunnel had to be found.

Sergeant Smithy led the platoon along a trail from the rice field into a small plantation of coconut palms. When they emerged from the palms they could see the village, about a hundred houses overlooking cultivated fields. There was no sign of life, but all the same they entered cautiously.

The place appeared deserted.

The men went from house to house yelling: "Didi mau!" which was Vietnamese for "Get out!" Jasper looked into a house and saw the shrine that was the center of most Vietnamese homes: a display of candles, scrolls, incense pots, and tapestries dedicated to the family's ancestors. Then Corporal Donny deployed the flamethrower. The building had walls of woven bamboo daubed with mud, and a roof of palm leaves, and the napalm quickly set the whole place blazing.

Walking toward the center of the village, rifle at the ready, Jasper was surprised to hear a rhythmic thumping noise. He realized he was listening to the beat of a drum, probably a mo, a hollow wooden instrument struck with a stick. He guessed that someone had used the mo to warn the villagers to flee. But why was he still drumming?

With the others he followed the noise to the middle of the village. There they found a ceremonial pond with lotus flowers in front of a small dinh, the building that was the center of village life: temple, meeting hall, and schoolroom.

Inside, sitting cross-legged on a floor of beaten earth, they found a shaven-headed Buddhist monk drumming on a wooden fish about eighteen inches long. He saw them enter but did not stop.

The company had one soldier who spoke a little Vietnamese. He was a white American from Iowa, but they called him Slope. Now Smith said: "Slope, ask the slant where the tunnels are."

Slope shouted at the monk in Vietnamese. The man ignored him and continued drumming.

Smithy nodded to Mad Jack, who stepped forward and kicked the monk in the face with a heavyweight U.S. Army M-1966 jungle combat boot. The man fell backward, blood coming from his mouth and nose, and his drum and stick flew in opposite directions. Creepily, he made no sound.

Jasper swallowed. He had seen Vietcong guerrillas tortured for information: it was commonplace. Though he did not like it, he thought it was reasonable; they were men who wanted to kill him. Any man in his early twenties captured in this zone was probably one of the guerrillas or someone who actively supported them, and Jasper was reconciled to such men being tortured even when there was no proof they had ever fought against the Americans. This monk might have looked like a noncombatant, but Jasper had seen a ten-year-old girl throw a grenade into a parked helicopter.

Smithy picked up the monk and held him upright, facing the soldiers. His eyes were closed but he was breathing. Slope asked him the question again.

The monk made no response.

Mad Jack picked up the wooden fish, held it by its tail, and started to beat the monk with it. He hit the man on the head, shoulders, chest, groin, and knees, pausing every now and again for Slope to ask the question.

Jasper was really uncomfortable now. Just by watching this he was committing a war crime, but it was not so much the illegality that bothered him: he knew that when U.S. Army investigators looked into allegations of atrocities they always found insufficient evidence. He just did not see that this monk deserved it. Jasper was sickened, and turned away.

He did not blame the men. In every place, in every time, in every country there were men who would do this kind of thing, given the right circumstances. Jasper blamed the officers who knew what was happening and did nothing, the generals who lied to the press and the people back in Washington, and most of all the politicians who did not have the courage to stand up and say: "This is wrong."

A moment later Slope said: "Give it up, Jack, the fucker's dead."

Smithy said: "Shit." He let go of the monk, who fell lifeless to the ground. "We have to find the fucking tunnels."

Corporal Donny and four others came into the temple dragging three Vietnamese: a man and a woman of middle age, and a girl of about fifteen. "This family thought they could hide from us in the coconut shed," said Donny.

The three Vietnamese stared in horror at the body of the monk, his robes soaked in blood, his face a pulpy mass that hardly looked human.

Smithy said: "Tell them they're going to look like that unless they show us the tunnels."

Slope translated. The peasant man answered him. Slope said: "He says there are no tunnels in this village."

"Lying motherfucker," said Smithy.

Jack said: "Shall I . . . ?"

Smithy looked thoughtful. "Do the girl, Jack," he said. "Make the parents watch."

Jack looked eager. He ripped the girl's pajamas off, causing her to scream. He threw her to the ground. Her body was pale and slender. Donny held her down. Jack pulled out his penis, already half erect, and rubbed it to stiffen it.

Once again Jasper was horrified but not surprised. Rape was not commonplace, but it happened too frequently. Men occasionally reported it, usually when they were new to Vietnam. The army would investigate and find the allegations unsupported by evidence, meaning that all the other soldiers said they did not want any trouble and anyway they had seen nothing, and the matter would end there.

The older woman started talking, a stream of hysterical, pleading words. Slope said: "She says the girl is a virgin and really only a child."

"She's no child," said Smithy. "Look at the black fur on that little snatch."

"The mother swears by all the gods that there are no tunnels here. She says she doesn't support the Vietcong because she used to be the village moneylender but Charlie stopped her."

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