I say that, but still feel sorrow and loneliness. Of those who have been close, M is far away, Khiem is dead, Van is far away, Hai is far away, Nghia and Thuong are also far away… the confidences of the heart are not easy to share with just anyone!
September 5, 1968. The night to bid good-bye to the students; my heart is excited. On familiar chairs tonight I sat next to you and listened to all your lovely and true words, but tomorrow you will leave. You will go back to war and a thousand hardships: I hope that you will be strong enough. I understand you; you are filled with strength, energy, and belief… but what can guarantee that you will be alive on the day of victory? You are so courageous. I am so proud of you, but still worry. That worry is natural but wrong, the worry of watching a relative throw himself into a life and death struggle.
Good-bye. I look straight into the eyes shining under your eyelashes, and I can see already that you want to tell me that you care for me, believe in me, are concerned for me, and that you will miss me when we are apart. I understand that, and promise that I will be worthy of your beliefs.
September 6, 1968. This afternoon the forest, noisy with the sounds of people, suddenly quiets down. The only sound is the wind in the treetops, the sounds of the cicadae all around. Is the cold wind the wind of a storm, or the wind of autumn? I suddenly feel it, the cold numbing me outside and in my heart also. I miss them. It is an afternoon in early autumn, with a gloomy moon and fog in the rice fields outside of Ha Noi; I ride my bicycle by myself from the dormitory on the uncovered road. The wind blows through the trees and I tremble when I pass one with two branches.
No, this afternoon the wind is cold and my heart is cold not because I am not with my beloved, but because I miss all those other people I care for. Who are these people? My parents, brothers, sisters, and my uncle in the North. There are also the brothers who day and night threw themselves into the life and death struggle in the delta. There are the comrades who have died already for tomorrow’s victory. Is there anyone else? There are the young colleagues who gather around me these days to study. All these people have great affection for me. When away from them, why do I miss them all so much?
To Huu said:
He said something with which I don’t agree, because I don’t miss M that much now, and my mind forces me to forget him. If To Huu is right, then M is not my beloved. We don’t love each other that way. He is just a friend of mine, and if a friend, then a friend only. As I said today M, it isn’t easy.
September 9, 1968. The seventh storm. This year the North has had so many storms. Here in the forest it is so quiet, but in the North the wind blows hard, collapsing houses and trees. Is there a catastrophe there in my lovely North? The storm is there, but my heart also has storms. I worry and miss it so much. My dear North, please be strong, please be proud just as in those days of victory. There are surely many difficulties anyway: all the young men have left for war, and the weak hands remaining at home must struggle with the storm; it must be hard.
This afternoon I felt as if I was in a small hut in the village by the seashore, with the cold wind I took my sweater in hand and felt lonely. The wind at autumn’s beginning has arrived now, the second autumn away from home, the second autumn of being in battle. This afternoon where are all the people that I love, all those young men I care for in the delta? A friend is in a firefight…another close friend lies under our homeland already. My dear Khiem, the afternoon color changes to a light purple color: over there can you hear the sounds of the waves, and over there Khiem can you see the familiar way from Qui Thiem* to the new road? Do you remember all those light purple afternoons Khiem? Why are you quiet? Khiem is now quiet forever and will never answer me again.
September 10, 1968. I read Thuan’s letter and felt excited: I miss this young man who is so faithful to me. My heart warms like there is a small flame inside. My dear Thuan, your affection is an encouragement in the face of all difficulties, urging me to go complete my duties. Your story and your strength is a mirror for me to study forever. You are sad and ask me why I don’t treat you as a younger brother the way I did Nghia and Thuong? Because I want our affections to be sacred and lofty. I care for you, but don’t understand you at all, yet on the other hand you don’t understand me at all. So we will wait for awhile.
