May 23, 1969. Returned to Pho Cuong to work, a gloomy night and to start out I stayed at Hanh’s house. “Never use a knife to stop your own bleeding”. No, this is true but I don’t do it that way.
May 24, 1969. I was back in Pho Cuong when the fighting started. At 2 o’clock the guns started firing; bombs, bullets, and planes all making distinct sounds, the sounds always heard in war films. Listening to the gunfire I worried; we were close to the battle zone. I had no time to go anywhere when I saw Thuan run out never caring about the planes over his head to tell me to return to the foxhole and hide.
That night we spent on the battlefield. The enemy actions were fierce; jets and bombs everywhere, two warplanes turning on their lights to pour line by line of bullets into the battle. In the night every round lighted red firing into the action and into my heart as well. Who was hit by all that fire? Was it all of you my Liberation troops, brothers who were with me last night on the road? Lam, Den… and how many others. All night I could not sleep; worry and hate made my heart so heavy.
May 25, 1969. These days living close to him proved more than the words that he said. Indeed he treated no one else the way he treated me. In this way was shown all the meaning of and ideas about his affections for me: his respect, his concern and his trying hard to care about me, his conversation, his look, the cup of tea he brought me and the shot he asked to give me when I was sick. Everything shows that he cares for me more than for anyone else. Isn’t that right dear young man?
June 4, 1969. These days are still tense; the enemy put troops near our building, they yelled and cut down the trees filling all the forest with noise. The clinic is very quiet and nervous. While working at Pho Cuong I heard the report so I stood still and worried, with a bowl of rice in my hand I still could not eat. Why is it always like this? Just finished building a few days before and must flee again. When can we get on with our duty? Worried, sad, and angry: will it ever be different or will we run like this always?
June 5, 1969. There is more of the enemy so we cannot stay here any longer. Tonight all the cadres and wounded soldiers will lead each other to run into Pho Cuong in the dark; we cannot see each other but maybe we can feel enough to know that the faces of the cadres and wounded soldiers are filled with sorrow and sadness. I went to make contact and learn the situation and didn’t return until late at night when all the men were finished dinner and lay on the floor of Dan’s house, a few of them asleep already. The rest were moaning with pain.
We left 3 of the wounded there because no one could carry them. A member of the cadre leaders was still there and I needed to return. Not knowing where the enemy was, going back at this time was really dangerous, but what could I do even in the face of death? My job demanded that I return.
Very late at night and no one had closed their eyes. Thuan sat silent next to me, not saying anything until he said good-bye, then just a short sentence: “I don’t know what you will do, but I worry too much”. Before I could finish saying: “I give this bag to you; inside is a notebook…” I wanted to continue with: “If I don’t return then please keep this book and later mail it back to my family”, but I did not finish. In the gloomy moonlight both of us could tell from our eyes the great sadness of our parting. He and all the others left, with only me left on the veranda of Tinh’s house. I don’t understand the tears which ran down my cheek. Were you crying Thuy? Don’t: please be courageous and strong. Please keep the smile on your face always even though thousands and thousands of difficulties and dangers threaten you.
June 11, 1969. The Provincial Government started up, an historic event, the Revolution taking a long important step. I’m happy because it is a victory, but more than that I feel the cruelty of the battlefield. All day and night the air is noisy with bombings, the jets’ firing guns, the helicopters, the HU1A circling overhead. The forest is filled with the scars of bombs and bullets. All the remaining trees were red because of the poisons. All the cadres are affected by the poisons, very tired, with no strength to eat. Everyone encourages themselves and their comrades but still there is worry on their faces and behind their faces: it seems they are shadowed with sorrow.
June 13, 1969. I went down to Pho Cuong, happy because this time I hoped to have a chance to live in the affections of close friends for one or two days before the engagement began.
