Waiting for rain in Truong Sa

After each training session outside the trenches, we would take the opportunity to shade the green patches of water spinach, jute mallow, and cabbage... The worst off were the chicks, who just wandered around scratching in the sand under the square-leaved banyan tree.

The youngest soldier in the squad, Phan Ha Quang, a boy from Nghe An province, was the innocent youngest, rarely sad, yet lately he had been silently gazing into the distance whenever his hometown was mentioned. This season, Quang's central region was also yearning for rain.

After training in the Spratly Islands.

It was well past midnight, and the air was still muggy. The rain came unexpectedly, while we were tossing and turning in our sleep. A faint pattering sound on the tin roof was faintly audible. Then, a torrential downpour... Everything seemed to erupt, everything bursting forth in a wild dance: "Rain...! Rain...! It's really raining!"

The sound of the rain was so delightful. We jumped up, still fully clothed, and ran out to bathe in the rain, pressing ourselves against the ground to listen to the rustling of the earth. The island soldiers were carefree amidst nature. We hugged each other, laughing and shouting to welcome the rain. Quang was probably the happiest, swaying to the samba rhythm and then jumping around on the sand.

Joy spread throughout the island; while enjoying the rain, we eagerly grabbed everything we could find to collect the water. The first rain of the season was a generous gift from heaven, washing away and cleansing everything.

The square-leaved Terminalia catappa trees rustled in the wind, waves crashed against the embankment, the chirping of insects mingled with the sound of falling rain—all creating a vibrant symphony—the earth, the sky, nature, and humanity seemed to beat in unison. That night in Truong Sa, we indulged in a feast of rain!

It's such a blessing to wake up each morning and gaze upon our beloved little island, bright, fresh, and refreshingly cool, stirring our hearts. During our time here, we truly understood the value of the rain. Having endured the long, dry season at the easternmost tip of our country, our hearts ache for the arid, sun-scorched central region.

My heart aches for my homeland, Nghe An, which has to endure the harshness of the Lao wind, its fields parched and cracked like crow's feet. My mother, her back bent, fanning herself with a bamboo fan all night long... At the end of May, a letter arrived on the island. Before we even finished reading it, everyone in the squad had tears in their eyes!

During the days waiting for rain in Truong Sa, Quang often read to us poems by his girlfriend, who was studying at Vinh Pedagogical University. He confided, "Hoa and I share a dream of going to Truong Sa. I've told Hoa a lot about Truong Sa. Truong Sa now has people, electricity, schools, and classrooms..."

The rain in Truong Sa, that overflowing emotion keeps surging and washing over me!

Duy Hoan