June 6, 1970. I read Van’s letter on a quiet summer noon, a scrawl of handwriting sent to me with so much care. Dear Van, be proud that we are faithful to each other even when we are apart, not mattering that the times are hard and miserable. Do you know that your friendly words always follow me along this difficult journey and that they have brought warmth to my heart? It has been said that we like each other only for status and money, but what do status and money mean? They are far distant from us. You are only a normal girl in a land of fire and smoke, only different from other girls in that you keep a spirit of sacrifice for the Revolution. You have already abandoned happiness in order to join the cadres suffering bombings, bullets and hardships. More different is that you are very kind and care for the cadres: your highest kindness is your kindness for me. You understand me, care for me, and give me your all.
As for me, to you I am not a high ranking doctor: I am only a normal cadre, a girl who forgot her happiness to go south and to fight with the Southerners on the battlefield. In response to your care I give you my true affection.
That’s it Van, on this hard journey we lean on each other to walk: we will be proud of our friendship so please take care of it and respect it my dear beloved friend.
June 10, 1970. Why am I so sad this afternoon? It’s the last time you can come to see me before you go away, but the time has passed already which means that I will not be able to see you and say good-bye. To say good-bye, all the times when saying good-bye in this war-filled land… who knows what will happen or on what day we will see each other again, so see each other again or not you left and didn’t say anything to me. Dear man that I love, I am sad because of a letter from my mother, a short letter which tries to hide her unhappy worry for me, but which in a few words to which she paid little attention showed me that she is very sad. Dear Mother, I know that your heart aches because I have to throw myself into the fire and bullets. All of my letters and those from young brother tell you only a thousandth of the hardships… but you worry already so if you knew everything we have to go through then what would you say? Dear Mother, if I am lost because of the victory tomorrow, don’t cry too much, but please be proud because we have already been worthy of living. Everyone has to die once.
Of course in my heart I always hope that I can return to you and Father and a North filled with love.
June 12, 1970. I am waiting for something… what? I am waiting for people to return to the clinic to take the heavy responsibilities in the coming days. I am waiting for him to return at the end of this month, waiting for letters from people I love, and my big hope is for peace and independence so I can return to my mother’s heart.
Why in these few days has my mind been so heavy with thoughts? Every night I dream of the North, and in the daytime I also dream and wait… my dear Thuy! The road still has many hardships to face but I continue the journey. Please be more patient and courageous: can you stand this Thuy?
June 14, 1970. It’s Sunday: after a shower the sky is clear and cool and the leaves are all green. In the house the flowers on the table were just changed this morning, those beautiful swaying sunflowers with their shadows on the radio’s shining wood in the center of the house. A record plays familiar music, the Blue Danube Waltz… the sound of visiting friends’ laughter… Oh, it is only a dream, a dream while awake!
This morning is also Sunday and it has also rained. The air is calm: if there was no rough sound of airplanes destroying the sky then the only difference would be the sound of the flowing river water! Where I am living just suffered a bombing. Yesterday afternoon the plane with two bodies flew around firing rockets: hearing the explosions everyone ran for the trenches. Hearing the bombs go off over our heads we thought that they were dropped on the hills, but after four bombings they left. We were all frightened when we realized that they had fallen just 20 meters away. All the trees were stripped bare and the nylon covering the house was all torn to pieces. Every tree was cut down by shrapnel: dirt and stones fell into the trenches, but fortunately no-one was wounded. After the bombing we all knew that this place had been discovered so we hurried to find another place to put up a building to move to.
Anyone with strength enough left, leaving only 4 girls and 5 seriously wounded soldiers who could not move. Yesterday afternoon it poured rain so we took nylon to cover the building, but water still got in everywhere. Inside was all wet: everyone got soaked. We carried the water from the leaks outside but the wounded patients still sat there wet and cold.
I looked at them all and smiled, but tears were close: Lanh asked me: “Does anyone else realize our situation?”
