Free For the Sake of All Living Things by John M. Del Vecchio

smile, answered, “If I may broach this subject, Mister Keng, may I ask, from whom do you receive your largest cash sums?”
    For a split second Mister Keng’s face showed shock, then he too smiled. “I sell my rice to those who wish to purchase it,” he said.
    “Dear Honorable Sir,” Chhuon addressed his host in the most formal fashion, “I would not ask you this if it were not for a problem I have had. Please, Brother, I do not question your honesty for one second, but please...” Chhuon removed from his briefcase an envelope containing the order from their last transaction plus 400 fifty-riel notes. He spoke very softly as he fanned the notes and pointed to the defect. “Someone, Dear Brother, has paid you in counterfeit riels. These are the notes you paid with last.”
    Outside, Samnang heard none of the quiet talk. Suddenly Mister Keng’s voice blurted loudly, “There is a problem developing with an insect I’ve never seen before. Come to the paddy. Examine the new plants.”
    Alone the two men walked the dikes to the far corner of one field where a small area had been sectioned off by a temporary low, narrow dike. “Mister Cahuom,” Keng Sambath began. He spoke very differently in the field than he had in the house. “I love my country very much. I love Samdech Euv. He’s a gentle king. I don’t know how to say this. One must be discreet, eh? Our problems are serious. I’ve no choice. I sell to the Viet Minh. They pay world market prices instead of the low rate set by the government. At first they bought only a little and I was happy to receive such a price. Then they asked to buy more. Still they paid a fair price. Last year they purchased half of what I produce. I told them they ate too much. I needed to sell more to state merchants. They told me they would need even more this year. And they told me...they told me how much I must produce. The Viet Minh say each hectare must produce one-point-two tons. They say I will harvest twenty-one tons. They say five tons will keep the government happy.
    “Dear Chhuon, I don’t wish to deprive the Prince or my country of profit it should make from exporting rice but I have no alternative. You know better than anyone, I don’t reap one-point-two tons on every hectare. My yield’s seventeen, maybe eighteen tons. Now you tell me they pay with fake money. It used to be so easy to live. I’ve always believed the rice yields were good because Samdech Euv had accumulated much merit. The Viet Minh say the Prince is surrounded by evil. By men who won’t protect us but still collect taxes. I’ve heard say the Prince hoards gold and has many women. I don’t believe it. When it’s time for war, I’ll stand with my king against all invaders. But why doesn’t the government help us?”

CHAPTER TWO
    T HE COMMUNISTS HAVE DEVELOPED a new kind of aggression in which one country sponsors internal war within another. Communist-sponsored internal war is clearly international aggression, but a form of aggression that frequently eludes the traditional definitions of international law. It means the use of native and imported guerrillas to serve the interests of Communist nations.
—From the Foreword
    by Roger Hilsman to
    People’s War: People’s Army
    by Vo Nguyen Giap
    AGAIN THEY WERE STOPPED . From Lomphat they had traveled north and northeast, back onto the plateau, across flat, barren, crumbling red ledge, then into dense double-canopy mountain forest. This time the troops were neither motley, undisciplined nor rough. Chhuon got out. Samnang sank low in his seat, torn between curiosity and fear. Yani knelt and spied through the rear window. The officer seemed gracious. Yani nudged her brother and both children poked their heads up.
    Quietly the soldier accepted the papers Chhuon presented. He asked for a donation. Chhuon handed him ten fifty-riel notes. The man flipped the notes over. “You are much generous,” he said in broken Khmer. “Allow me give back you