Whether in times of peace or war, the spirit of a soldier must be upheld.

PVBefore delving into the stories of the battlefield, could you share a little about your childhood and family? And what instilled in you the will and spirit of a soldier?

Mr. Nguyen Van Dong:I was born and raised in Kim Lien commune, Nam Dan district (formerly), now Kim Lien commune, Nghe An province - the birthplace of President Ho Chi Minh. My family has six siblings; I am the third child and the eldest son.

My father, Mr. Nguyen Van Quang (born in 1924), participated in the resistance against the French, fighting and being wounded in the North. During the war against the Americans, he continued to serve as a military officer in the local area. In 1965, when I was only 9 years old, my father was killed in an American bombing raid on the Nuong Gai area in the north of Kim Lien commune.

My father's death was a huge shock to the whole family, especially to my mother – a rural woman who had to single-handedly raise six young children amidst war and hardship.

From a young age, I witnessed my mother's hard work and toil, and grew up with memories of my father who fell for his country. This instilled in me early on the determination that I must live up to my father's sacrifice, and to the patriotic traditions of my family and homeland.

PVAs someone who fought directly on the southwestern border battlefield, you must still vividly remember the memories of those fierce years of war. Could you share a particularly memorable experience, or a battle that still haunts you or one you are most proud of?

Mr. Nguyen Van DongAfter April 30, 1975, with the reunification of the country, everyone thought the war was over. But then the situation on the southwestern border heated up day by day due to attacks by the Khmer Rouge. I was only 20 years old at the time. In early 1976, I volunteered to join the army. My mother strongly objected, because she had already lost her husband in the war against the Americans, and now she didn't want to lose her eldest son as well. I felt so sorry for my mother, but I knew I couldn't stand idly by while fighting for my country. I quietly packed my belongings and secretly enlisted.

Initially, I was assigned to the 812th Regiment, engaged in economic activities in Phan Rí – Bình Thuận. However, due to the escalating war situation, my unit gradually moved to the Central Highlands. By the end of 1978, I officially joined the Southwestern border battlefield, stationed in the Đắk Min – Đắk Lắk area, bordering Cambodia. I was assigned as a reconnaissance soldier, tasked with going ahead, infiltrating deep into enemy territory, gathering intelligence, drawing fire deployment plans, and then quietly withdrawing.

There were times during reconnaissance missions when we went for three days straight with nothing but dried rations and spring water. Once, deep in the jungle, the night was bitterly cold, and our stomachs ached from hunger because the whole group had gone without food for almost two days. On another occasion, our reconnaissance group was discovered by the enemy, who relentlessly pursued us with gunfire. The whole group had to split up and disperse into the jungle.

I got lost in a desolate, mountainous area with no water and no sign of human habitation. I survived on forest leaves and the water that collected on them. It wasn't until the fourth day that I found a military trail and returned to my unit, utterly exhausted. I reunited with two of my comrades, and we embraced, tears streaming down our faces. But the most painful thing is that one of my comrades is still missing, with no news of him to this day.

The battle that haunted me the most was when our unit was ordered to attack outpost 920 – one of the Khmer Rouge's crucial links near the border. The scouts led the way, and my squad and I approached the target in the dark. But the enemy had already positioned artillery. Before we could even spread out, artillery shells rained down. A barrage exploded right in the middle of our formation. Eight or nine of us were killed, many dismembered... I was thrown by the blast, losing part of my left leg, and my right ankle was fractured. Blood gushed out, the world spun around me, and then everything went dark.

When I regained consciousness, I found myself in a makeshift medical tent, my back covered in blood. A young nurse bent down, looked at me in astonishment, and choked out, "You're alive... it's a miracle!" Later, I learned that when I was taken to the rear, my comrades thought I wouldn't survive. The wound was too severe, the bleeding was incessant, and I had been unconscious for many hours in the deep jungle.

I had to be hospitalized for almost a year. When I was discharged, my left leg was in a metal splint, my right leg was covered in scars, and I still had over 30 shrapnel fragments scattered throughout my body that couldn't all be removed. Even now, every time the weather changes, my whole body aches and feels sore. But I always tell myself: It's a miracle that I'm still alive. Because there are comrades – those who crossed forests and mountains with me, sharing every morsel of dried food – who still lie somewhere in the jungle, nameless, without tombstones.

PVAs a war invalid, a sick soldier, and the son of a fallen soldier, he carried within him immense emotional losses and lingering physical wounds. So what motivated him to overcome the difficult years after the war?

Mr. Nguyen Van Dong:When I was seriously wounded on the battlefield, there were times I thought I wouldn't survive. I lay unconscious for days, then spent over a year receiving treatment in a military hospital, before being transferred to Da Nang to get a prosthetic leg. Life was incredibly difficult back then. Every time I practiced walking on my new leg, the pain brought tears to my eyes.

Later, I was sent to recuperate at Unit 200 - Military Region 4. In 1990, when the State encouraged wounded and sick soldiers to settle down in their hometowns, I immediately volunteered to return to my locality, with a certificate of wounded soldier 3/4 (51% disability rate) and sick soldier 1/3 (81% loss of working capacity).

Returning to Kim Lien commune, I was granted a small plot of land by the government. On that land, my wife and I built a simple, one-story house, but it was where we started all over again. Before that, in 1989, during a visit home from a convalescent center, I met Ms. Nguyen Thi Thang – the woman who would later become my wife. She was a medical officer working at the Nam Dan District Health Center. We came together without possessions, with nothing in our hands except a promise to overcome all hardships together.

My wife and I started from nothing: no capital, plus I was plagued by illness, but I always believed: "As long as we're alive, we can still do it. We may be poor, but our children must get an education and become successful." With that in mind, I started repairing and selling bicycle parts. My wife, besides her work as a medical assistant, also worked in the fields. We worked late into the night and early in the morning, saving every penny. Sometimes we didn't have enough money to pay our children's school fees, and I had to borrow from our neighbors.

But fate smiled upon me. All three of my children got into university: my eldest daughter is studying Economics in Ho Chi Minh City, my second daughter is studying Fisheries at Vinh University, and my youngest son is studying Construction, also at Vinh University. Now, they all have stable jobs, and the two eldest have happy families. I have three grandchildren, all of whom are well-behaved and filial.

Looking back, I often think to myself, "So, I've succeeded." I'm not wealthy, but I have a loving home, well-behaved children and grandchildren, and I'm respected by my neighbors. That's the greatest motivation that helped me overcome all the difficulties throughout the long post-war period.

PVAfter leaving the military and returning to his hometown, he always maintained a sense of responsibility and actively contributed to the community. What has enabled him to retain the spirit of a "soldier of Uncle Ho" until today?

Mr. Nguyen Van Dong:When I returned home after my military service, I thought, "I'm a soldier, I survived the fierce battlefield, I can't come back here and live indifferently and irresponsibly." Therefore, I applied to join the veterans' association in my commune. There, I was able to relive the atmosphere of camaraderie – people with the same aspirations and ideals, working together to continue contributing to building our homeland.

Due to a severe leg injury, my mobility is quite limited. I cannot directly participate in community mobilization activities or patrols like other veterans. But I still try to contribute in other ways – maintaining a respectable lifestyle, encouraging my children and grandchildren to abide by the law, and participating in local movements to the best of my ability.

My wife is a Party member and served as the head of the Women's Association in Mau 4 hamlet for many years. She is very active and exemplary, enthusiastically participating in all hamlet and commune activities. I stay at home, taking care of the house and grandchildren so she can focus on attending meetings and going on work assignments. My wife and I always remind each other: Whether in peacetime or wartime, the spirit of a soldier must be fully maintained. It's not just fighting that matters; living a decent and useful life in everyday life is also a way of contributing.

PVDuring your time working in the local area, you must have witnessed many changes in your hometown. In your opinion, what is the significant role of soldiers returning from war in preserving and promoting revolutionary traditions at the grassroots level?

Mr. Nguyen Van Dong:I believe that as long as we soldiers are still alive after the war, we must live up to the spirit and character of a soldier. Having experienced bombs, bullets, and losses, we understand how precious peace is. Now that we no longer carry weapons, I will try my best to contribute to my village and to future generations in any way I can.

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Having experienced bombs and losses, I understand how precious peace is. Now that I no longer carry a gun, I will try my best to contribute to my village and future generations in any way I can.

War invalid Nguyen Van Dong (Kim Lien commune)

I often tell my grandchildren stories from the war, about my comrades, about the times we narrowly escaped death. Occasionally, I take them to the war cemetery to light incense, so they understand that life today didn't just happen by chance. Then, in our daily lives, if we live exemplary lives, doing everything with kindness and proper conduct, that's also a way of preserving tradition.

My hometown has changed so much: houses are spacious, village roads are clean, and streetlights shine brightly. But if people live indifferently, forgetting their roots, then no matter how beautiful it is, it will feel empty. Even though we old folks are not as healthy as we are, and our limbs are weak, we can still remind our children and grandchildren to live with consideration for others, to be grateful, and to preserve the traditions of kindness and compassion.

PVOn the occasion of the 78th anniversary of the Day of War Invalids and Martyrs, do you have any wishes or messages to convey to the Party, the State, and future generations so that the work of "Paying gratitude and repaying kindness" continues to be promoted in a meaningful way, worthy of the sacrifices that your generation has made?

Mr. Nguyen Van Dong:I am very grateful to the Party and the State for their attention to those who have rendered meritorious service. I am one of the five outstanding delegates from Nghe An invited to Hanoi to attend the event.National gathering of meritorious individuals and exemplary historical witnesses.This year – it's a great honor, a great emotion. I only hope that the State will continue to maintain and expand policies to care for wounded and sick soldiers, not only in terms of material support but also spiritual well-being. Many of our comrades are elderly, have no relatives, live alone, and desperately need a word of comfort and concern.

I hope that today's young generation will not forget the past. Every time I see young people going to the cemetery to light incense for fallen soldiers, I am deeply moved. I hope that behind that candlelight lies a genuine sense of gratitude and a better life.

PVThank you for the conversation!