Matthew Funk - Congress Of Tigers

		Matthew Funk Congress Of Tigers - Excerpt Only America can save Ho Chi Minh. The critical alliance between the US and the Viet Minh is illuminated and shadows of what is to come are cast in this thoughtful and gripping account of Japanese Indochina’s last days.
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BACK Matthew Funk About The Author Contact Email & Postal Information Truth Novels,Plays & Short Stories Speculation Non-Fiction Writings Observation Opinion & Analysis Political Blog		ACT ONE SCENE THREE A group enters from stage right, from darkness into darkness. They pause, spread out center to stage right. A trench lighter illuminates the face of MAJOR ALLISON KENT THOMAS, Army Officer and dressed like it. He lights his cigarette. FRANK TAN speaks up from beside him as he does. FRANK Uh, Major Thomas, Sir? You may not want to smoke around here. Keeping his lighter open and burning as he looks at FRANK. THOMAS And why is that, Lieutenant Tan? FRANK Ammonia, sir. We’re near the medical tent. And ether, compressed oxygen, nitrous oxide— THOMAS (interrupting, jovial) All donated by the Army of the United States, Tan. As an officer of that Army, I’ll decide if it’s safe to smoke around. He snaps the lighter closed. THOMAS There’s no blackout, is there? FRANK No, sir. In fact…(yelling to afar) Mui! Light up medical! Hi-wattage electric lights strung through the surrounding jungle buzz alight. Revealed are FRANK, MAJOR THOMAS, and behind them along the path PAUL HOAGLAND, young Army medic with a big bag, BUU, and the very large, very young and very blond MISTER HART. PAUL wastes no time in approaching THOMAS. Delirious mumbling and moans drift from the tent. PAUL Sir, if this is medical, I feel we should waste no time in seeing Ho Chi Minh. THOMAS (to FRANK) I would agree with my medic on this matter, Tan. The way I hear it, this base has plenty of other sick people that need treating too. FRANK Yes, Sir. THOMAS And the sooner we make contact with President—“President”? FRANK “President”, yes, Sir. THOMAS President Ho Chi Minh, and establish our operations, the sooner the Japs are going to be leaving Viet Nam. FRANK Yes, Sir, Major, but there’s a reason we’re waiting here, and— THOMAS And what’s that, Tan? FRANK That would be that General G— (he stops himself from completing the word) Van has ordered that he’s to meet with you first before you enter the tent… PAUL That’s absurd! FRANK (to PAUL) Or make any contact with personnel besides my liaison group (he turns to THOMAS, not pausing, even to breathe) until he shows up and evaluates your personally, I’m sorry, Sir, but that’s his orders. MISTER HART, looking to BUU, exchange a glance. HART extends a pack of cigarettes. BUU accepts one and, HART lighting them, they sit and smoke. THOMAS Tan. FRANK doesn’t reply. THOMAS Tan? FRANK (realizing) Oh. Yes. Yes, Sir? THOMAS Tan, where is General G’Van? FRANK “Van”, Sir. THOMAS Where is the man? I was under the impression he’d already been briefed on us – already “evaluated” us – so that we could get to work immediately. Hell, I thought we were on the same side in this war? FRANK They are, Sir. I mean, we are, Sir. It’s just that General Van is exceedingly auspicious about security and about order. MISTER HART (quick, to FRANK) General Giap is? FRANK (to HART) Yes, Sir. THOMAS “Giap”? Is his name “Giap” or “Van”? MISTER HART (grinning) I thought so. PAUL (to THOMAS) Sir, we’ve got to hurry. Let’s just act on our own initiative— FRANK (frustrated) He’s General Van, Sir. General Van of the ICP— PAUL (talking over FRANK) And explain things later. Our mission could be a total wash if Ho dies. THOMAS (to FRANK) ICP? FRANK (talking over PAUL) The Indochinese Communist Party. Which is part of the Vietnamese Liberation Army, which is, Sir (to PAUL) in control of this base and unaccustomed to having that control broken. They have a system – they enforce it ruthlessly – and it works. It works well enough that we can wait until Van shows up. THOMAS I thought these people were Nationalists? FRANK They are. Van will be here any minute. Until then, patience. THOMAS (begrudgingly, looking at PAUL) Alright, Tan. We’ll wait. FRANK And another thing, Major. I prefer to be called ‘Frank’. PAUL sinks down to sit on his bag, looking reproachfully at FRANK and HART. THOMAS Why is that? It’s not customary for an Annamite. FRANK No, sir, but I’m Chinese. My father was a Marine. THOMAS American? FRANK Maybe, sir. A long pause passes.
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