March 28, 1970. The enemy presses the clinic area very seriously: all the HU-1As and helicopters flying around close to the tree-tops throwing grenades, the short rockets and the cannon fire make me deaf. Artillery shells from Chop Mountain explode next to the trench. A large round brought down the trees next to the trench by the operating shelter. My mind suddenly comes up with a question: if the enemy comes here how will we have time to move the wounded men? Thanh and Xuat left to stand guard at the front and haven’t returned. Guns fired in that direction and planes landed there so I don’t know what happened to anyone over there.
Worry weighs heavily on my mind. I think about the question he asked me: “Who told you to come here and to with-stand all these miseries? Why didn’t you stay in the North?” Was he complaining? I know that he doesn’t blame me but that he only cares about me so asked in this way. Two others also asked the same question. From these hardships we come to understand the value of a revolutionary: those who can stand firmly in the fire and boiling water will come to be like steel. As N. Ostrovsky said: “Steel already tempered by fire and cool water will be harder and will have the strength to cut through all the challenges…”
Tonight the trees in the forest are so quiet, quiet but lively. Here I listen for every movement and follow the enemy’s steps and over there you may be following every one of my steps.
March 29, 1970. For the first time I dug a grave to bury a comrade. Every time the pick struck sparks on stone it was like the sparks of burning hate in my heart. Yesterday when Thanh was returning from the front he was killed and fell just at the river’s edge near our house. Xuat was wounded by their fire and was then taken away by helicopter. His pants were torn and left on one side… not even a month yet and our unit has lost 3 people.
The grave was not well made but Thanh was brought back. One day after his death the blood still ran making the dirt red. I didn’t clearly see his face, only his closed eyes and his paleness. When he lived there were many things I didn’t like about him, but when the dirt covered him I couldn’t stop my tears. So, please try to be a help to each other and love each other when alive, so that although you cry and are sad when someone dies, that you cry only tear-drops on unfeeling dirt.
March 30, 1970. It is very sad all the people that I love! What can I say to make you understand what I understand? The way I travel is so very hard, the way of a girl student becoming a leader: something causes me to be different from others. Is it my way of life, a life of love, a life of too much thinking with my heart? Is the way of life of a petty bourgeoise asking for a little too much? What is all of this? That is the real difference from other people. I am sad that around me are all these jealous people who still feel that they remain courteous. Dear Thuy, please stay calm and strong; please accept those weaknesses in order to change them all. Don’t be sad: you understand life already so save those tears until you are once again in the arms of the people you love. They will understand you like you understand yourself and they will make you feel better with their deep affections. Please smile Thuy? Okay?
Oh you girl student, three years on the battlefield, in the fire and the thorns of life… your legs are stronger so be courageous and step out firmly, girl of Socialism now in the South!
April 1, 1970. The anniversary of 10 years since joining the group, 10 years ago a youth, now I am already a cadre strong in the fire. I am never proud but feel that I did only what I swore to do under the group flag on that day.
All the long nights of thinking and thinking Thuy… please be more serious with yourself and don’t let a single question hurt you. Why don’t people understand me? Of course there are bad people with jealous narrow minds, but even if they are like that most people cannot say anything to them. Do like those people, don’t cry… save your tears until you meet the people that you love. Late at night I sleep next to the people in the same unit. They sleep with the same rhythmic breathing while outside the guns fire loudly. Oh my dear comrades… we all breathe together on the same battlefield of fire, so please love one another, and help each other. With life and death so close why must you be jealous?
April 5, 1970. Do I yearn so much because of loneliness? This afternoon Cuc returned to work at his unit and I suddenly felt sadder.
