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It was the night of the truce, and the phone at the provost desk was not ringing.
Half the ARVN are home on pass for the truce. Ford's squad starts the shift with a sign for Rue Marchand wrapped in a poncho on top of the rifles. Then the net comes back all at once: somebody is at a wall, somebody is in a BOQ yard, somebody says the embassy, and one man says the racetrack.
Sent to Rue Marchand, a street nobody can find because it leaves the boulevard at an angle, Ford, Dugan, Cole and Baines end up at an old ice works and the barber's shop beside it. When Ford looks into the loading bay, it is full of the people of the street, and every face turns to the door.
