Up Country Read Online Free PDF Page A

signs of life?”
    “Eight February 1968. That’s the date on the letter.”
    “I know the army post office is slow, but this is a record.”
    “In fact, the witness was not an American soldier. He was a soldier in the North Vietnamese army, named Tran Van Vinh. He was wounded during the battle of Quang Tri City, and was in hiding among the ruins. He witnessed these two Americans arguing and witnessed the captain pulling his pistol and shooting the lieutenant. In his letter, which he wrote to his brother, he referred to the murderer as dai-uy—captain—and the murder victim as trung-uy—lieutenant.”
    “There were some marines around Quang Tri at that time. Maybe this is not a case for the army.”
    Hellmann replied, “Tran Van Vinh, in his letter, mentioned that these two men were ky-binh—cavalry. So obviously he saw their U.S. Army First Cavalry shoulder patches, which he knew.”
    I pointed out, “The First Cavalry Division, of which I was a member, had over twenty thousand men in it.”
    “That’s correct. But it does narrow it down.”
    I thought about all this for a moment, then asked Karl, “And you have this letter?”
    “Of course. That’s why we’re here.”
    “Right. And the letter was addressed to this guy’s brother. How did you get it?”
    “In a very interesting way. The brother was also a North Vietnamese soldier, named Tran Quan Lee. The letter was found on Tran Quan Lee’s body in the A Shau Valley in mid-May of the same year by an American soldier named Victor Ort, who took it as a souvenir. The letter was sent home by Ort and lay in this man’s steamer trunk full of other war memorabilia for almost thirty years. Very recently, Ort sent the letter to the Vietnam Veterans
of America, based here in Washington. This organization asks its members to return found and captured enemy documents and artifacts, and to provide information that these veterans might have concerning enemy dead. This information is then turned over to the Vietnamese government in Hanoi to help the Vietnamese discover the fate of their missing soldiers.”
    “Why?”
    “They are no longer the enemy. They have McDonald’s and Kentucky Fried Chicken in Saigon. In any case, we want them to help us find our missing in action. We still have about two thousand MIAs unaccounted for. They have an astounding three hundred thousand missing.”
    “I think they’re all in San Diego.”
    “No, they’re all dead. Including Tran Quan Lee, killed in the A Shau Valley, possibly by Mr. Ort, though he was vague about that.” Hellmann continued, “So, this American veteran, Victor Ort, sent the letter he found on the body of Tran Quan Lee to the Vietnam Veterans of America, with a note saying how, where, and when he found the letter and the body. The VVA, as a courtesy to the men who are sending such letters, had the letter translated, and was about to send the translation to Mr. Ort, but someone at the VVA—a retired army officer—read the translation and realized that what he was reading was an eyewitness account to a murder. This man then contacted us. A civilian would have contacted the FBI.”
    “It was our lucky day. And did anyone send the translation to Mr. Ort?”
    “Mr. Ort was sent a translation of a love letter, and a note of thanks.”
    “Right. And you have the original of this letter?”
    “Yes, and we’ve had it authenticated regarding paper and ink, and we’ve had three different translators work on it. They all came up with nearly the same wording. There’s no mistaking that what Tran Van Vinh is describing to his brother, Tran Quan Lee, is a murder. It’s a very compelling and disturbing letter.” He added, “I’ll show you a translated copy of it, of course.”
    “Do I need it?”
    Hellmann replied, “There’s not much in the way of clues in the letter other than what I told you, but it might motivate you.”
    “To do what?”
    “To find the author of the letter. Tran Van Vinh.”
    “And