My dear Tan: in everything I do I think about wanting to treat you like my actual brother, but because you are an important cadre I don’t want that. If you were a cadre like me then I could be satisfied by the family-like care with which we treat each other daily. What do you think about your young northern sister, southern brother?
August ?, 1969. I went on a night rescue. The road I had to use had many dangerous sections: all the national roads constantly used by the enemy, and all the hills where the Americans are stationed. The base area lights are very bright. I passed through the middle of the Pho Thuan rice fields on three sides of which are bright electric lights. Nui Chop and Nui Xuong Rong* all had lights hanging in front of my eyes. Those lights follow me in all directions so my shadow follows me in all those directions. I got the feeling that I was a player on a stage, just like the days when I was a student at medical school in the shows and musicals. Now I am also an actor on the stage of life: I am playing a girl of the Liberation with a black dress, every night following the guerrillas in their activities in our area close to the enemy. Maybe I will meet the enemy, and maybe I will fall with my hand carrying the red crossed box, and then people will also feel sorry for the girl sacrificed to the Revolution during her dream-filled youth.
August 6, 1969. Sunset over the rice fields makes a poetic scene at any time. Today during the enemy sweeps two comrades were seriously wounded and one was lost. Sorrow presses heavily on my heart but this afternoon standing in the paddy fields I suddenly knew that life is still going on. People are still busy with the harvest of ripe grain, and a smile is still on the face of the cadre walking next to me. His name is Cong, Liens loved-one. She died not ten days ago and Cong was very sad, yet now next to me with lively conversation he acts very happy. He had just held and played happy music on a mandolin before we left. I looked with surprise: if it was me in his situation, how would I act? Maybe I wouldn’t have a smile and lively music like him.
Oh! The Revolution is so wonderful in this land: the sorrow and the mourning are nowhere else the same, and the lively happiness of it cannot be compared anywhere else.
August 15, 1969.
“Is anyone a winner who has never lost before?
Is there anyone smart who has not done stupid things
Once or twice before?”
I have to read and understand To Huu’s words so I will not be unhappy in these circumstances. During an attack there were two seriously wounded comrades, 6 killed in action and 10 captured. Dao, the Hamlet Group Leader of Duc Pho was one of those killed. He was not that talkative, but he got his meanings across, understood people, understood the work, and was very much admired. In this action he led a group close to the District center. He was shot from the bottom through the top of his lung causing an open chest wound which went unbandaged making him dizzy and leaving him not well. To the last moment he was still conscious with a clear mind and didn’t want to make trouble for anyone else. I ran to help and cried. I felt so sorry for him, wanting to find any way to save him, but there was none. It seems as if I am like a soldier with two seriously wounded hands watching the enemy approach with weapons to kill me. Anger and hate make my hands tremble. No, I will not surrender! The idea of revenge will give me strength. My dear Dao, do you hear my voice? The sound of a comrade, a young woman and a friend is a promise to take revenge for you and the other comrades who have fallen for tomorrow’s victory.
August 17, 1969. I received your letter and am sad when you ask me “Do you remember this simple young man?” Oh God! Why are you so childish my dear, smart, courageous young man? I always save my whole care for you and thank you for your affections, don’t you know that? This afternoon was the same as all the other afternoons: I looked over there through the afternoon fog and still recognized the green top of the mountain with the red mark of land on it which is your home. Over there you worry about me day and night… how can I forget you?
August 25, 1969. During all those tense days the Americans lying in the rice fields every night surrounded the village to attack in the early mornings. In today’s early morning they had already encircled the village. Lying on the ground preparing to die and lying in the holes listening to them searching and yelling, the sickening feeling they caused was heavy in my heart.
