By Robert Nichols

The American Soldiers Funeral

THE AMERICAN SOLDIER’S FUNERAL

A group of farmers were returning to Ap Nohn hamlet along National Highway 1. The road ran alongside Xuan Da’s field. As they approached they saw the body of an American soldier lying across the paddy field. The earth was a powdery ochre with the stubble of last summer’s rice crop glimmering a faint yellow.

The body was enormous. It stretched from one edge of the field to the other. At the north boundary the fronds of a clump of latania palms had been torn slightly. The feet rested at the south end, not far from the water paddle-wheel. A hand sprawled across a dyke.

These farmers (and their families) had been away for several weeks, at one of the government’s “New Life” hamlets. They carried bundles slung over bamboo sticks. It was a crisp day. They examined the corpse carefully, walking around it at some length, touching the big pack which was strapped on the soldier’s back with their sticks and occasionally prodding the pockets of which there were a great number. Then they sat down to wait under the palm clump. Xuan Da’s boy was sent on ahead to the village to inform the Chief Notable. It was around noon.

By the middle of the afternoon the entire village had come out to Xuan Da’s field (except the Chief Notable who was shopping in Saigon). The villagers walked around the corpse in groups, discussing the fine points. The children cracked nuts. Luckily the middle harvest was in. The ground was dry and had not been rutted. The dykes were packed hard and were undamaged except where the hand had breached a wall next to the irrigation stream. At the bottom of the ditch the water purled softly.

What is the difference between the death of a soldier in battle and the death of an ordinary person? My friend, that’s a hard question. In the death of an ordinary person the body is washed and dressed ceremonially, and the burial service has to be performed in just the right way. Then the spirit will be permitted to take its place safely with the revered ancestors. even when the family lives far away (as in the case of the chinese merchants on Cholon) the body is simply shipped back in a box, and the ghost with it, to the ancestral village. There-you can count on it-the authorized rituals will be performed by the proper persons. But when a soldier dies, obviously this is a very serious matter.

There is also the problem of size. True, ghosts don’t have an actual physical size and shape. Still, they are determined by what they were. This is particularly true of animals. For instance, in the smaller animals-the pig, the dog and the cat-the ghosts are considered relatively harmless though sometimes troublesome. These are the “Little Ma” that one stubs one’s toe on or stumbles over while crossing a field at night. But the “Big Ma” - that is the large animal ghosts: the ghost of the horse, oxen and water buffalo-these can be extremely dangerous. How much more dangerous then, spirit of this huge soldier? If it should wander around unburied, it could cause a lot of damage.

There were no relatives. Who would give it the proper cult so it could rest quiet? How could it be dressed correctly for the funeral? How could it even be washed properly?

That evening nothing was decided. The Chief Notable arrived soon after supper in his Renault, along with the Buddhist priest. But they could not agree on what to do. Under the Notable’s direction the minimum precautionary measures were undertaken, to keep the corpse safe. The whole company went back to the hamlet to sleep.

Vigil During the First Night

Everyone has left Xuan Da’s paddy field except three boys who had been assigned to remain behind and scare away the rats. Every so often they run around the corpse clapping sticks and setting off fire crackers. A ladder leads up about 20 feet to the soldier’s stomach. On top of this several large bunches of bananas have been placed under the priest’s direction. This is to divert the Celestial Dog, so he will not be tempted to gobble up the soldier’s entrails.

2^nd Day Occurrences

In the morning a rigging crew arrives from the provincial highway department at Soc Trang. They are accompanied by officials of the Agricultural Department. The owner of Xuan Da’s land has got wind of it, and has telephoned the administration insisting that the corpse be moved off the paddy onto the asphalt paved highway. Otherwise the soil might be permanently damaged. Although it is now the dry season, rains will begin in a few months and impurities accumulate.

The A.M. passes. Everyone is here, but now the posthole digging machine has to arrive. It is the plan of the rigging crew to drive in concrete posts on the far side of the highway. Block and tackle will be attached to these, and the corpse pulled by winch to the asphalt road. Pulling the body across the dykes will be the tricky part.

P.M. The rigging crew has driven in the concrete stakes. However the priest and the Highest Venerable return shortly after lunch and insist that the body not be moved until some time after it had been washed. None of the villagers volunteer to do this.

2^nd Night

My neighbor’s son, Nuygen Li, and several other teenage boys, are assigned as guardians of the field for the 2nd night, also a girl cousin of Nuygen’s. Few firecrackers are set off. A thatched hut has been built temporarily in the latania grove, very comfortable. Luckily the body has not begun to smell yet and the air is still fresh, especially in the night breeze. And all the stars are shining.

The 3^rd Day

A flock of beach plovers and many white cranes have perched on the body. There is danger that the soldier’s eyes might be pecked out by the smaller birds, but they are protected by the bony eyesockets and heavy eyebrows which cast a shadow over the face. The cranes rummage among the uniform for fleas. An official plan has now been drawn up. The State Highway Department in cooperation with the Agricultural Administration will winch the body onto the road. The earth dykes must be levelled to accomplish this and the irrigation stream filled in. The canal has to be diverted upstream. A digging crew is already working on this. Boundaries must be changed, at least temporarily, and certain landowners will have to be compensated. The plan is to lift the corpse up onto two flatcars. It will then be transported to the estuary where it will be set adrift on the flatcars. It is hoped at this stage the body will be picked up by the U.S. Seventh Fleet and given the correct burial services.

Everyone ready to get started. However, the Fortune Teller just arrived from Can Tho. He says the day is not auspicious for moving anything (because of the star conjunctions). It might bring very bad luck. The day after tomorrow will be more auspicious.

5^th Day

We move down the main road in the direction of Ap Nohn hamlet. Low tide. On either side the streams drain, rivulets of blue in the black mud. Through the paddy flats which stretch endlessly, the river loops back and forth and finally disappears behind the tall clump of palms that mark the village. This is situated on high ground, like and island in the ocean of rivefields. The palms swivel in the breeze. The procession is now about three-quarters of a mile away, strung out along the road. Birds swoop overhead.

The Hamlet of Ap Nohn

The hamlet of Ap Nohn consists of a small store selling fish sauce and canned goods, the Dinh, a primary school, two cemeteries and the town soccer field. About 50 houses are scattered at varying intervals. Each house has its boat landing in back where a sampan or pirogue is tied up, in the shade of banana trees. As the procession crosses the town line over a bridge with the planks clattering, we are almost run over by a boy driving a flock of ducks.

We parade down the main street.

The procession has been organized in this way: two villagers have been chosen to represent the mother and father of the deceased; also a group to impersonate the rest of the kin - brothers, patrilineal grandparents, the soldiers’ widow, etc. These march behind the hearse looking very wild. The women wear mourning shawls of white gauze sloppily put on, and the men rough turbans wrapped around their heads hastily, as if they had just gotten out of bed or were running from a fire. The male mourners pretend to be part blind. They totter on bamboo sticks making tapping noises, while the women and birds shreik.

A band heads the procession. Then the priest and the fortune teller supported on hammocks. Then come the paper prayer scrolls and flags lifted high and the lavish displays of ceremonial food held over the heads of the young men, most of whom are shouting and drunk on the rice wine. Along the sides of the road children, who have recently been burned, give away paper money. At the end of the village street is the boat landing.

We are now passing Cung Bao Phach, the moneylender’s house. Unfortunately the wheels get caught in the sand and the whole hearse tips over, sending the immense body sprawling against Bao Phach’s barn. The impact of the fall has split the corpse open. Birds descend, the beaks of the sandpipers and cranes puncture the rotten fabric and the dry skin. In the pack that the soldier has been wearing strapped to his back, it is discovered that there is another dead soldier. There are also others inside each of the pockets, they spill out onto the ground as the clothing is ripped. The birds’ beaks rip at the holes and cracks, and inside all the dead soldiers there are others. They are piled against the barn.

The air is black with birds and with souls. How many ghosts? Thousands. We will suffer forever. The land will always be damaged by them.