At Thang Binh they left the beaten two-lane highway, heading west into a valley along a crumbling asphalt road. The recent rains had washed out the road in several places. Ngoc the driver cursed mightily as he shifted into four-wheel drive. Colonel Pham turned to Condley, smiling and shrugging his apology. They passed little villages, their crude houses built up against the road, interspersed with narrow stands of trees planted decades before on both sides of the road by forced laborers from the reeducation camps.

Staring at the row of trees, Condley thought again of a younger Dzung, fresh from the battlefield, planting saplings under the watchful eyes of those he once had fought. Had he been here twenty years before?

The sights became predictable again. Young children stood in front of the houses, many naked from the waist down, waving and calling to the car as it passed. Hopeful vendors sat behind weathered little stalls, offering soft drinks, water, and local fruits. An old one-legged woman struggled slowly along the roadside, pulling a cow behind her as she worked a crutch with her other hand. At one point they halted for a young man who was herding a hundred little ducklings across the road, walking behind them and keeping them together by tapping a twenty-foot pole from side to side.

Across the valley to their north, the Que Son Mountains rose from the mists, the wet fog cascading down their slopes like huge, rolling balls of cotton. Muir pointed quizzically at the steep blue mountains. Noticing his gaze, Condley answered his unspoken question.

“The Que Sons, Professor. We’re on the eastern end of the mountains, opposite from Ninh Phuoc. Maybe fifteen miles away.”

“Only fifteen miles? Not exactly the Himalayas, are they?”

“The major mountain ranges run north to south in a huge belt, from here all the way into Laos,” explained Condley. “The Que Sons are like a thumb pointing east toward the coast. That’s why they were so much trouble for us during the war. The North Vietnamese could hump in from Laos along the mountains under a double-canopy jungle and position base camps within a few miles of the coast. They could come down very quickly when they wanted to attack, but it was hell taking it to them in the mountains when they wanted to defend.”

“And Salt and Pepper operated with them from these base camps,” reasoned Muir.

“Maybe Salt and Pepper,” shrugged Condley, staring up at the rugged blue peaks. “Maybe many Salts and many Peppers.”