Du Quan* was a very rich hamlet, the most beautiful in the village of Pho Quang, a rich village on the seashores of Duc Pho. Now anyone coming here only can tell the wealth of Du Quang from the artillery shelters, very big and modern. All around are the polished wood beams of fallen houses. The shelters are all lined with thick boards in a line, and are large enough to shelter 30 to 40 people.
Every afternoon after dinner everyone stands guard in the shelters’ doors to defend against the helicopters which arrive throwing grenades, and against the fire which comes straight from the mountain, DK, and the artillery fire… survival becomes pretty basic with thousands of dangers surrounding us.
October 26, 1969. All the days of living close to him somehow make me forget the hardships threatening me. Do the warm hands which hold me tight give me strength to do away with all the difficulties? It is his small fingers touching my hair which cause me to feel warm in the care of a brother and forget the loneliness of being far from home, and it is also his black eyes seen through the darkness and the crowds of people telling me: “Please walk firmly on the honorable path you have chosen already and you will always have us to help you with the friendship of comrades… and you will always have me to lead you on the arm of a brother”.
Thank you very much: I will live and be worthy of being your comrade and young friend. Can you hear this dear Tan?
October 30, 1969. It is flooding, water filling up all the rice fields, low places and villages.
The Americans sent troops yesterday morning: this morning we got up early at 0400 to fight off the enemy’s attack. It was still raining hard, and at 0700 they started their sweep. We all went into foxholes, built following the artillery shelter and very modern, but now so old that 2 of them were closed. Only I and Ky stayed in one but I worried and asked Tam to stay with us. We stayed about an hour in the foxhole and the water rose up to my chest. It was so very cold that I couldn’t take it any more. Not knowing where the Americans were we opened the cover and ran to the brush to hide. At noon Tam and Di, carrying weapons, came to find us and lead us away. No one has a foxhole they can use anymore: every one is filled with water and we don’t know where the enemy is. We all stayed at Tam’s house, all wet and cold, but I still felt happy. If you haven’t joined the Revolution, how can you understand this situation, the smiles still there on everyone’s pale lips? A lot of radios and watches were carried to the kitchen to dry out because all of them were filled with water.
November 1, 1969. At night along the road the tension was tighter than the strings of a musical instrument. Water flooded everything and the enemy was everywhere along the road, but no difficulty could stop us. Tan decided to go and I decided to leave with him, no matter how hard it would be. Our group still had 3 people left, but they couldn’t all go because conditions wouldn’t allow it. At 17:00 I followed Tan to the ferry landing. The road going through the hamlet and village was destroyed by the enemy with trees and houses scattered all around and only a few houses standing. The people were afraid and ran off, with sounds of rice and pots being carried away, a scene very sad which made you cry.
At the river bank there was only one ferry, and there were 15 people wanting to cross. Only half can go. Other than the number of agents there was only left 3 people: Tan, Vinh, and me.
The group very quietly left, walking carefully through the edge of the rice fields and thorn bushes. When we passed through the sewer (pipe) under the National Highway, I got the feeling that this was just like Maricuyt* working in the sewers under Paris. I never felt afraid (that is my personal character it seems). Leading in front was Tan, who always turned back, maybe feeling that behind him was a smile and eyes looking very carefully at the enemy’s outpost. Dear Tan, I want to keep all that happiness and those beliefs always. Tonight going along the road I also felt happy because we were together in the hardships, with you leading me through a tense situation.
We arrived at 23:00. I said good-by and wished you safely on your way, and to hurry back.
November 5, 1969. It is still raining and windy. I live here in a house which has never felt the war. I still don’t feel warm even though living with a happy and crowded family. Sitting on a modern bed with a hot dinner in the middle of the house, I think about everyone at this same time who is trembling from the cold wind blowing through a wet shirt. I hope that my love will be a small light to warm their hearts.
