Several times in this blog I’ve mentioned the shelling we were subjected to as the North Vietnamese laid siege to Saigon in 1975. It became a regular part of our lives as we heard it come closer each day.
I described the first time I heard the shelling in Last of the Annamese. It’s the early part of March. Ike and Molly are in bed:
A low rumble shook the floor.
“Thunder?” Molly said. “Monsoons not due ’til late April or May. Besides, who ever heard of thunder in the tropics?”
“That wasn’t thunder, Molly.”
It came again. She tensed.
“Rockets, maybe.” He lifted his head and listened. “No. Artillery. Never heard it that close before.”
“Them or us?”
He gave full attention to his ears. “Them.”
The soft whish of the air conditioner. A gecko’s scuttle. Their breathing. No more roar.
End of quote. As time passed, the attacks became more frequent and closer. Tomorrow I’ll describe one of the last attacks.