attitude.
Burma is ruled by a vicious socialist military dictatorship, by
communists in all but name, yet your country and many others send them
money and weapons, have done so for years … hoping to buy their
friendship.” He gestured toward the weapons against the wall. “Still,
we manage to provide for ourselves. We survive.”
“What are you fighting for?”
“For our country, Lieutenant. For the land we call Katoolie.” Htai
leaned over and spat, expertly directing a stream of red betel nut juice
between two bamboo slats in the floor. “Year after year, the bastard Ne
Win tries to exterminate us. Always he loses.”
Ne Win, Batman remembered from his briefings, had been the military
dictator of Burma for many years. He’d been replaced by a coup several
years before, and the colonels who ruled that unhappy country now had
promised democracy and a new constitution, but most analysts felt that
he was still the real power in Rangoon.
Batman heard a step behind him and looked around. The girl who had
brought him here stood in the door. The colonel said something in an
unintelligible language, and she replied in a rapid-fire barrage of
singsong words.
That red patch pinned to her boonie hat … When Batman had first seen
the gold-star-on-red device, he’d assumed it meant his captor was
Communist.
He saw now that it had been cut from a uniform. Probably a Burmese
uniform.
The device was a war trophy.
It spoke of this people’s abilities … as warriors, and as survivors.
If he and Malibu were going to survive, they needed the Karens’ help.
The soldier left, and the colonel turned to face Batman again. “You
seem to have attracted some attention here, Lieutenant. An enemy column
is approaching our valley. They search for you and your friend.”
Batman licked his lips. There’d been ice in Htai’s voice when he spoke
of not understanding American foreign policy, as though he might hold
Batman responsible. He plunged ahead, speaking quickly. “We need your
help, sir.
Somehow, my friend and I have to get to Thailand. I know you don’t have
any special love for my government, but I can promise that you will be
rewarded.”
Htai looked away, his black eyes going to the picture on the wall.
“Rewarded how?”
“I don’t know, Money perhaps. Gold. Something can be worked out, At
the least Your help will generate sympathy for your cause back in-”
“We do not need sympathy, Lieutenant. We need mortars. Assault rifles.
Ammunition. Grenades.” The colonel’s lips quirked back in what might
have been a smile. “With a thousand 81-mm mortars we could drive the
Burmese from our land once and for all.
He was tempted to promise the colonel any thing, but sadly, Batman shook
his head. “I can’t promise you anything like that, Colonel.” If the
U.S.
government was trying to buy Rangoon’s friendship, Batman doubted that
military aid for the Karens would be forthcoming.
Htai appeared to consider the question for another moment. “At least
you are honest,” he said at last. “We will help you. Money we need too
… for we must buy rice from the Thais to feed those of our people who
live in camps along the border.”
Batman let out his breath. “Thank you, sir.”
“You may not thank me later. The Burmese have been in this area in
great numbers lately. The trip will be hard and dangerous.” He nodded
toward the open door. “The woman who brought you here is Sergeant Phya
Nin. She is waiting with your friend. Have her get the two of you
something to eat, then make ready. We leave in one hour.”
Batman left the hootch wondering if he and Malibu could trust these
people. The colonel seemed willing enough … but if the Burmese were
closing in, the Karens would be a lot better off without having to look
after a pair of tenderfeet on an overland trek through the jungle.
It would be so much easier to dispose of the Americans quietly or sell
them to someone who might be interested in them like the Bunne se or the
drug lords.
But as Batman stepped back into the filtered green light of the jungle