My dear homeland! When will the yearning lessen, when will the country have peace? I know victory is not that far away, but why is happiness still so distant? Will I see that happy day? “Communists love life very much but will die very easily when necessary.”
Dead, we still love life, a life we have sought to change with sweat, tears, blood, and bones for 23 years already.
October 10, 1968. In the South the celebration of Liberation Day for the Capital (Ha Noi) is bright like fire. My spirit is excited: the liberation of Ha Noi… the sad scenes of the final retreat of the French soldiers crossing the Long Bien Bridge* and continuing north; Ha Noi has been liberated 14 years now, but even under the bombing and fire Ha Noi stands strong. I still hear the loving laughter of the young students at the Hang Bong Street School*; still hear the sound of the street cars running in the streets of Ha Noi. My dear Ha Noi, the more I miss you the more I pity Saigon, Hue, and thousands and thousands of villages, and cities, and streets of this sorrowful land full of fire and smoke. A war so cruel has never been seen before, and that in this cruelty we all fight so courageously has never been seen before. Who will be dead, and who will be alive when our country is independent? Even if I die I will have already enjoyed Socialism. There are still thousands and thousands of people who have grown up knowing only sorrow, people such as Khiem, Huong, Ly, Tuan, Hung, Tho… and still many others who have fallen without ever enjoying that happy day. How sad it is!
October 11, 1968. I have a friend who wants to show his love for me and who hopes that I will answer. I didn’t hesitate and told him that we are friends, and nothing more. I also told him that my heart gave up all private dreams, and that I concentrate only on my job. I have been true to my responsibilities and not to my heart. Truthfully, the love of M still makes my heart bleed. I want to forget, my self respect helps me to forget M, but sometimes I look back and it seems that I broke a valuable thing which I cannot find again. Tonight as I read over all the old letters how hurt and sorry I feel. My dear M! Your handwriting still is not faded on paper, but then why does your image fade from my life? You buried a beautiful love and you reject the things that you loved and respected for eight years. Everyone tells me that maybe when everything is over, then perhaps we will return to each other like many people wish, but for me, I know that it is finished. A mirror is broken; how can it be put back together again? When a cup of clean water is spilled how can you get it back again?
October 12, 1968. Read Phuc’s letter which makes me mad at him. He is just too impolite. Anyway it is a lesson on what not to say in public.
Went to the big guerilla war meeting and met many people. I felt very close to heroic Duc Pho in which today gather all the heroes from the war. I am pleased because it seems I am friends with many of the people from Pho Phong* to Pho Thanh* in Duc Pho, all who welcome me. One young man in a letter filled with hesitation expresses his love. What have I done to be worthy of such affection from Duc Pho?
October 13, 1968. Met Thuan after more than a month apart. Only a month but it seems so long. I am so happy to see that he is healthy and has progressed in his work. I am so happy and feel that time with him is so precious when we are together. Because the war continues, who knows who will die and who will live my young friend? I feel that there is something from his private life that he doesn’t reveal. Why? Why doesn’t he trust me? Is it possible that he hesitates? Didn’t he tell me that he cares for me truly a great deal? So, answer me.
October 22, 1968. Said good-bye to Thuan: we both felt that we could not say anything, especially anything which would excite us now. You go: I worry and follow step by step; the enemy guns seem very close in the direction of Pho Cuong. You go, with thousands of dangers waiting for you. How can I not worry?
