Tonight I sit next to the light and think a lot about this strong, intelligent young man. Please keep with respect all the beautiful feelings we have for each other. Please be true to our affections and stay worthy of our faith in each other.
September 15, 1968. Came back to attend the large women’s meeting in the village. I felt very happy surrounded by the affections of these sisters. Life is like that: it is only for a moment that you feel lonely.
Walking alongside the small canal on the way back, I suddenly thought of Thuan. This emotion is only sibling affection but why does it make me so excited? I imagine a small, cold hut with a small light beside the family altar. Thuan comes home after work, eats by himself late at night, and lies in the hammock with a cigarette and no one else to make a family but him. When he comes home alone except for his shadow, I would like to warm his life with my affections. I sent him a letter but feel I still didn’t explain myself well. Dear Thuan, are you worthy of my love?
September 17, 1968. When hearing Cap speak of the day Khiem was killed, I felt even sorrier for him. Khiem is dead already; his head is broken, a leg is gone, and he lies in the sand of his homeland. Khiem’s father’s hands were bound tightly; his wounded shoulder bled. When he saw Khiem’s body his tears flowed, and his great love for his son could be seen in his eyes. Khiem is dead already: his mother stood in front of his corpse but was in shock; she hasn’t yet returned to normal. When she recovers then she will cry for her son.
Dear Khiem, in another world can you feel the sadness of those still living? Your parents’ tears haven’t yet dried, and the wounded heart of a sweetheart hasn’t yet healed.
September 19, 1968. Big meeting of the village youth group, youngsters living with the satisfaction of youths brought up into the struggle. I had a chance to listen to the teenagers’ reports. In the first six months of the year young Hong, 14 years old, killed 6 Americans, sabotaged 2 vehicles with his own home made weapons, and took 7 of the enemy’s guns including 2 personal weapons.
Pho Chau took 5 guns, two personal weapons and one RC. That these youths are heroes when they are so young is cause for the people to be proud.
September 27, 1968. Admission to the Party. The clearest thing today is that struggle is necessary to be worthy of the name “Communist”. As for happiness, why do I feel so little compared to other happy days? Why Thuy? It’s as you said: “Just like a child who cries wanting his mother’s milk until he is tired; when he finally gets the milk, it doesn’t taste good anymore”. As I think closely about the dead who sacrificed their careers for the Party, I feel sorry and I miss all those who fell here in Duc Pho.
October 5. 1968. One of the patients died following an operation. He was 66 years old… old but still healthy, a long time Party member who had been fighting continuously for 23 years. His family and the clinic tried their best to help him, but could not save his life. Even though everyone including his family saw that it wasn’t my fault and that I tried very hard, I still feel regret. Why did he die? Because of the operation? No, not because of that, even though this was my first time to do this particular procedure. I was very calm and took my time. But, and this is difficult to say, when we tried to inject plasma the old man moved and it came back out. Very sad! Losing a patient who did not have to die: I need to learn from this.
October 6, 1968. There are those who have mentioned in half joking and half jealous words the way all the people love me. I think about that and believe really that they don’t care for me that way just because I am a physician. All the truly affectionate letters, all the presents sent wrapped with their love for me: from close friends these are not really expressions of gratitude to a doctor, but they are sent more from affection for me as a person, a sister, or a dear friend. Sometimes I ask myself if they are true, these expressions. Why would so many young men give me this degree of affection?
October 8, 1968. At the beginning of autumn the sun fills the forest. The sun in this season dries peoples’ lips and their hearts. I miss you with a heart as big and deep as the ocean holding the land of Viet Nam. I miss the secret friend with a small house at the end of Doi Can Street*, miss the naughty young sister with her soft hair, miss the young man from the South who just sent me a good long letter to say good-bye when leaving for school, miss the beloved younger brother with the shining eyes under long lashes, and how much more do I miss the loved one who lies on the homeland’s seashore forever.
