Part II: Diary of the Road to Battle

(Baonghean.vn) -In the notebook of Martyr Le Thanh Phu, there are recorded poems that he loved. There are many poems that he composed for his mother, his lover, his friends, to express his nostalgia for his homeland and his feelings for Uncle Ho, for the Party, and his affection for each land he passed through. And indispensable are the lines of poetry, the hot diary lines carrying the breath of a soldier.

>> Part I: Presenting battlefield relics

We can name the poems he wrote, which are also a way to record his feelings and emotions during the march. That is "Missing Uncle Ho" written in Ba Ria on July 8, 1972, with the following verses: "Even though the days are windy and frosty / I still remember Uncle Ho's love / I go to preserve the foundation / Follow Uncle Ho's bright will".To be "Summer" was also written in Ba Ria with longing for mother and homeland but still steadfast: "I miss you mom, America lost to me”. One afternoon in Bien Hoa, the young soldier's longing for his mother welled up in his heart, but his poem was still so heartwarming:Oh mother, separated by mountains and rivers / Every spring comes, mother waits for her child to return / The South is on fire all around / The dead have not yet returned their child, how can they be at peace / The enemy commits crimes on both sides / Bones are exposed, blood flows, mother is far from her child / Child is far from mother, with a pure heart / As long as there are enemies in the village, the child will still march.Then there are memories in Laos, in Phuoc Tho, Long Dien, Long Khanh, Bien Hoa... There are farewell poems for fallen comrades, poems to send off Hoang Xuan Thanh who died on May 3, 1972, to send off Nguyen Duy Ngu who died on May 21, 1972... And many other poems full of faith in victory: "Every step we take is a feat", "Liberation Spring"...In many of his poems, the image of the girl he loved appears. She was his classmate from years ago, with whom he had just exchanged vows...

Interspersed among the poems are letters written to loved ones as a way of confiding. And diary entries carry the breath of a soldier. Here are excerpts from the diary entries of Martyr Le Thanh Phu, written in the section titled “On Truong Son Road” :

March 24:So it has been 3 days and 3 nights in Truong Son. Today, the unit is walking on Uncle Ho's trail again. Oh, the historic Ho Chi Minh trail. Every step we take, we feel the warmth of the country. We feel the joy of a sure-victory future. A long march that does not count time.

March 25: The unit rested so that the brothers could bathe and wash. After 4 days of hard marching, today was the last meal to relax. After breakfast, I went to the stream. The sky of Truong Son in the dry season was high and blue. The mountains and forests whispered and told the eternal story. Sitting alone on the rock, I thought of Kim - Enva and Oc Sun. Oh, what a beautiful love. Oh forest, do you know my heart?

March 26: The sky of Khammouane is clear. Laos is majestic with its endless forests, sunny and windy all year round. A new feeling blossoms in my soul. The footsteps of Truong Son become more steadfast. Only by traveling do I know. Hiding in a corner of the house, not knowing where the horizon is. I think of the rebellious Cricket...

27-3: It has been a day in Laos. The life of a soldier is like a bird, here today, gone tomorrow. Each step takes us further away from the beloved North, from the beloved villages, from the schools that resound with singing morning and evening. Childhood, oh, those beautiful memories in the soul, are now long gone...

28-3:I sent Chau these lines again on the Truong Son road. I know Chau will never receive them. Why? Surely Chau understands that this mountain and forest scene easily makes me pensive, Chau. Easily makes my soul vibrate in a strange way. It is really unexpected that life is like this, Chau, isn’t it?

...

2-4: The season is almost here. I know in our hometown, you are very busy these days, the children are on summer break. It is always like that. I know but I have to bear it, Mom. Do you know I am here, in Laos, in the deep, remote forest. The sky is blue and clear. My heart follows the wind back to you, Mom, do you know? My heart beats with the rhythm of the marching steps.

4-4: Today, passing Sepon, the river in the dry season splashes white water. The river surface is jagged with rocks. Oh, the river of Laos calls all year round. The white water lashing against the rocks smoothed by time. Once past Sepon, who knows when we will return?

5-4: Is this Tay Trang? A jagged limestone area, with peaks far and near, almost like a sea of ​​pearls. The afternoon sunlight slanted through the rocky mountains, sparkling like jade. After several days in the deep forest, today the view was extended to the far horizon. The pink clouds surrounded a giant, beautiful carpet.

6-4: The symptoms of malaria began. An undeclared, silent and fierce battle had begun. I couldn't sleep a wink all night. From cold to heat. Oh, the malaria of Truong Son, destroying my body terribly. I didn't groan, trying to grit my teeth and endure. Because at this moment my comrades were sleeping soundly. Oh mother, during the fever, the image of my dear mother always appeared in my heart.

...

2-8: Life is an accumulation of life. A beautiful life is one that has done things that benefit the country and the people.

4-8:If a foreign journalist were to ask me: What do you think about your life? I would immediately answer that journalist: I really like and want to live my life.

5-8:Our life is as simple as grass and trees. When we live, we make the Fatherland green. When we die, the land becomes more fertile. That means when we live, we contribute to the Party's revolutionary cause, and when we die, we also contribute to the Party's revolutionary cause.

7-8: I cannot share this joy with you, I can only call you in my breath, in the heart of my life. I can only make you happy in life and have a clear conscience in your old age...

12-8:The temple is the house, the hammock is the bed, the clothes, guns and ammunition are the property and sentiment of the people and the Party. I am the manager, using those properties in the most effective way.

19-8: This afternoon, when the bird flew to a faraway countryside, when the chicken-fat clouds glided lightly across the deep blue sky, a coconut leaf rustled, a paddle gently swished, it made me miss Chau so much. The old memories on the river of my motherland kept coming and then fading away like that bird. And in the end, there was only the image of Chau in my imagination.

20-8:The prisoner sobbed and begged for mercy. He asked for food and water. He looked around furtively. His face was dull, his dirty soldier uniform clung tightly to his childish body. The cook brought him a bowl of noodles. He politely took it with both hands, thanked him profusely, then bowed and slurped it down. He seemed very hungry.

The heroism of the other side is encapsulated in the prisoner before me...

22-8: If I were a psychological surgeon or a researcher of social consciousness, this would certainly be a very valuable image in research materials. Those are the mothers selling fruits in Ba Ria town, the women hoeing the garden and working in the fields, the ordinary girls who only know how to embroider and clear the fields, yet they are all present in the battle this afternoon. They do it with all their abilities, soberly and bravely. Despite cluster bombs, artillery, and mortar shells dropped from helicopters. They go happily and proudly...

(To be continued)

Thuy Vinh