the same act that created an unbreakable bond between him and his men proved to be his undoing.
Enlisted men competed to be transferred to one of Fang’s units for the extra pay and the esprit de corps. Word of this leaked out, and the jealousy of other officers ensured it reached the right ears on the general staff. Inquiries were made, and finding no obvious reason for Fang’s payments to the men, the higher-ups suspected the worst.
Owing to the inefficiencies and glacial pace of the Red Army bureaucracy, Fang had plenty of notice prior to the falling of the axe. The outcome was preordained. Not only would he be ruined, stripped of rank, and sentenced to a long term in prison, but also he would cause shame and a massive loss of face for his clan. The consequences were unthinkable.
He acted without hesitation. On his orders, his men bought, borrowed, and stole communications equipment, extra weaponry and ammunition, and all the supplies they could carry. Fang commandeered trucks, and drove as deeply into the jungle as their vehicles could traverse.
They marched into exile, knowing that as deserters, they would be summarily shot if apprehended. As for Fang’s family, deserting was only marginally better than being branded a criminal, although the fact that he took all his troops into exile with him ameliorated the sting.
Fang’s situation was precarious. Despite his control of trained and heavily armed men, he was a very small fish in a large and dangerous pond. The list of potential enemies was a long one.
Topping the roll was the Chinese Army, no doubt eager to see justice done and avenge the insult they had received. The regular Burmese Army was perpetually making forays into the no man’s land, searching out the various groups of Burmese disaffected from the military junta running the country. In addition to Burmese rebels were the Karen and other native tribes that fought a rearguard action against the junta, alternately seeking asylum in Thailand or actively fighting, whichever proved more convenient at the time.
The Royal Thai Army was also in the mix. Cowardice and apathy in the ranks kept the Thais from being much of a threat to anyone. But thanks to the money and military hardware supplied by the DEA and CIA, whatever they chose to attack received massive overkill. American prodding kept them making token, yet destructive, efforts to squash the drug trade.
Last, but certainly not least, Khun Sa and other drug lords controlled an ever-shifting patchwork quilt of territory. Tied to the Overseas Chinese Underworld, they had billions of dollars in cash to spend, and operated with a ruthlessness that made the other players seem saintly by comparison. Each of these criminal renegades hired mercenaries and fielded private armies.
As if this was not complicated enough, the tourist trade created its own set of difficulties. Jungle-trekking on elephant-back had become a popular part of many tourist vacations in Thailand. With the thousands of Westerners that visited the Golden Triangle to see Hill Tribes, or sample the dope, came guides, translators, merchants, hangers-on, the inevitable invasion following the trail of cash they liberally spread around. Technically not a military threat, anyone foolish enough to harm the tourists was assured of a swift and terrible vengeance from governments for daring to threaten the lucrative flow of hard currency.
The learning curve was steep, but Fang rose to the challenge.
Like many others before him, he strengthened his army by conscripting men in villages that were weakly defended.
By this simple expedient, he gained both poppy fields and troops. As he was not a harsh commander, and shared everything—good and bad, with his men—no one questioned his rule.
Fang was sharp enough to pick fields and villages far from the regions patrolled by the Chinese Army. He found a spot wellsuited to the needs of a miniature force such as his own. At the edge of the Thai and
Enlisted men competed to be transferred to one of Fang’s units for the extra pay and the esprit de corps. Word of this leaked out, and the jealousy of other officers ensured it reached the right ears on the general staff. Inquiries were made, and finding no obvious reason for Fang’s payments to the men, the higher-ups suspected the worst.
Owing to the inefficiencies and glacial pace of the Red Army bureaucracy, Fang had plenty of notice prior to the falling of the axe. The outcome was preordained. Not only would he be ruined, stripped of rank, and sentenced to a long term in prison, but also he would cause shame and a massive loss of face for his clan. The consequences were unthinkable.
He acted without hesitation. On his orders, his men bought, borrowed, and stole communications equipment, extra weaponry and ammunition, and all the supplies they could carry. Fang commandeered trucks, and drove as deeply into the jungle as their vehicles could traverse.
They marched into exile, knowing that as deserters, they would be summarily shot if apprehended. As for Fang’s family, deserting was only marginally better than being branded a criminal, although the fact that he took all his troops into exile with him ameliorated the sting.
Fang’s situation was precarious. Despite his control of trained and heavily armed men, he was a very small fish in a large and dangerous pond. The list of potential enemies was a long one.
Topping the roll was the Chinese Army, no doubt eager to see justice done and avenge the insult they had received. The regular Burmese Army was perpetually making forays into the no man’s land, searching out the various groups of Burmese disaffected from the military junta running the country. In addition to Burmese rebels were the Karen and other native tribes that fought a rearguard action against the junta, alternately seeking asylum in Thailand or actively fighting, whichever proved more convenient at the time.
The Royal Thai Army was also in the mix. Cowardice and apathy in the ranks kept the Thais from being much of a threat to anyone. But thanks to the money and military hardware supplied by the DEA and CIA, whatever they chose to attack received massive overkill. American prodding kept them making token, yet destructive, efforts to squash the drug trade.
Last, but certainly not least, Khun Sa and other drug lords controlled an ever-shifting patchwork quilt of territory. Tied to the Overseas Chinese Underworld, they had billions of dollars in cash to spend, and operated with a ruthlessness that made the other players seem saintly by comparison. Each of these criminal renegades hired mercenaries and fielded private armies.
As if this was not complicated enough, the tourist trade created its own set of difficulties. Jungle-trekking on elephant-back had become a popular part of many tourist vacations in Thailand. With the thousands of Westerners that visited the Golden Triangle to see Hill Tribes, or sample the dope, came guides, translators, merchants, hangers-on, the inevitable invasion following the trail of cash they liberally spread around. Technically not a military threat, anyone foolish enough to harm the tourists was assured of a swift and terrible vengeance from governments for daring to threaten the lucrative flow of hard currency.
The learning curve was steep, but Fang rose to the challenge.
Like many others before him, he strengthened his army by conscripting men in villages that were weakly defended.
By this simple expedient, he gained both poppy fields and troops. As he was not a harsh commander, and shared everything—good and bad, with his men—no one questioned his rule.
Fang was sharp enough to pick fields and villages far from the regions patrolled by the Chinese Army. He found a spot wellsuited to the needs of a miniature force such as his own. At the edge of the Thai and
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