Victory Day in Memory of a Martyr's Son

He looked around the classroom, saw his friends, teachers, the whole village school hugging each other, bursting into excited cheers; as for him, joy was intertwined with sadness, happiness mixed with loss, the more joy, the more longing...

The “boy” from that year is now a man in his late sixties. 44 years have passed, recalling that historic day, the memory of his father who heroically sacrificed himself on the march to battle is still haunting. There are so many personal stories, personal pains like that? The pains and losses of millions of individuals and families have contributed to today’s victory and peace. I would like to send readers a story, a memory like that, on this special day…

It has been 44 years since April 30, 1975. At that time, I was in grade 9 (10-year system) at Do Luong I High School. I still remember, when the teachers announced that "we" had liberated Saigon, liberated the South, all the students were stunned for a moment in surprise. Then they ran to hug each other and cried. So happy! In the common joy of the whole nation, there was the joy of my class, of my school. As for me, I sat absent-mindedly in a corner of the room. I thought about my father on the day of victory. Could my father have returned for some reason, and not been sacrificed like the death notice?

My father was martyr Chu Van Phu. According to the martyr's record, my father was born in 1935, but the grandparents in the family said he was born in 1930. He died on February 2, 1970, on Road 20 Quyet Thang, near Ca Rong border gate, Vietnam - Laos border in Western Quang Binh. At that time, suffering a heavy blow in the Tet Offensive, the US Empire had to declare a halt to bombing the North so that the two sides could sit down at the negotiating table. Our army took advantage of this time to focus on transporting food, ammunition, and weapons to the southern battlefield through the border routes between Vietnam and Laos.

Although the US Empire declared to stop bombing the North, the Saigon government still allowed the air force to violate the ceasefire agreement, invading the airspace of the North in the Quang Binh - Vinh Linh area to attack, in order to prevent our troops from heading to the South to carry out the final decisive blow. At the time of his death, my father was a financial officer at Station 36, Transport Department, General Department of Logistics, stationed in Hung Trach commune, Bo Trach district, Quang Binh province.

Group 559 transported by motor vehicle on the Truong Son route to support the southern battlefield. Photo: Archive

Because the 36th Military Station was twinned with Hung Trach Commune, my father was brought back for a memorial service and burial at the commune cemetery, not at the cemetery of the 559th Division (Truong Son Army). It is said that his memorial service was held very solemnly, with representatives of the Ministry of National Defense attending, filming and taking photos to document the Saigon puppet government's violation of the bombing ceasefire order.

The day the death notice arrived at my family, the news was like a thunderbolt. In 1970, when my father died, I was about 11-12 years old, in middle school. My youngest sibling had just been born. That period was extremely difficult. My mother raised five children on her own, working hard and suffering beyond words. Missing my husband who had sacrificed, tears and suffering had to be held tightly in my chest, only daring to sob every night, when the farm work had stopped and the children were fast asleep. I was the eldest son, and the closest to my father among the five siblings, so the memories of my father were extremely vivid. At that time, I wished I could grow up quickly, mature quickly so that I could have the conditions to bring my father back to my mother, my siblings, my family, and my hometown.

Then that day came. It was 1983. A week after getting married, I took my bike to Quang Binh. An uncle and I cycled to Hung Trach commune, Bo Trach district, Quang Binh province - where it was reported that my father's grave was located.
Although the country has been unified for nearly 10 years, the consequences of the war are still very severe. Along the way we traveled, villages were still desolate, and people in many areas were still poor.

When we arrived at Hung Trach commune, the first thing we did was go to the cemetery to find my father's grave, but the loss and sacrifice in the fierce war was too much, there were so many cemeteries in Binh - Tri - Thien land, searching like that was not good. I discussed with my uncle that we had to meet with the Hung Trach commune authorities. When we arrived, we reported and presented the reason, wishes and purpose of the two of us coming here. Luckily, the commune leaders were very enthusiastic, because everyone was my father's acquaintance. And so, the commune chairman directly took us to the cemetery to receive the grave; assigned groups to help us with the exhumation of the remains the next morning.

Photo taken on the sidelines of the emulation congress of Military Station 36, Transport Department, General Department of Logistics around 1969. Photo archive

The Hung Trach martyrs’ cemetery is located next to the primary school teachers’ dormitory. The cemetery has about 30 graves. In the middle is a large grave, in front of which is a large cotton tree with beautiful flowers. The commune chairman led us there and said: “This is the grave of comrade Chu Van Phu.” As if there was a telepathy of fatherly love, I hugged and lay on the grave to cry like I had never cried before. The teachers of the school came out in large numbers. Everyone was crying. It had been decades since my father said goodbye to his family to go to the South following the sacred call of the Fatherland, like so many of his comrades, he did not have time to wait for the day of victory…

The next morning, all the departments, branches and organizations of the commune gathered. They helped us exhume my father's remains, while doing so they told us about his feelings for the people and the local government at that time, which was very touching. After completing the exhumation, the commune government held a memorial service and sent him back to his hometown.

During the entire journey back, I did not leave my father's side. When we arrived at Vinh station, my uncle and I spread out a plastic sheet in the middle of the station. When night fell, I took the parachute cord I had brought, tied it to the chest containing my father's remains, then wrapped it around my neck and tied it tightly around my hand. Early in the morning, my uncle and I took my father back to his hometown on an old bicycle. After hundreds of kilometers of riding, only when we reached the village entrance, only about 1 kilometer from home, did the tire go flat. Did my father want to walk to see the scenery of his hometown and village again after decades of separation?

At home, my mother, relatives, and local authorities were waiting. Everyone was moved. Leaving my hometown to join the army in 1965, my father was a cadre of the commune's finance department, just over 30 years old, handsome, smiling, loved by everyone; now after decades of separation, he has returned as a martyr. Now my father has rested in peace at the Do Luong District Martyrs' Cemetery. At this moment, in the moment of victory day, I am present in Ho Chi Minh City - where 44 years ago an important event took place in the history of our nation's resistance against foreign invaders, completely liberating the South, and unifying the country. At this moment, I am crying. I wonder if anyone else is crying like me? I am crying because of the great loss of my family. I am crying because of the great joy of the Nation.

How can I express my immense gratitude to my father, to my uncles and brothers who devoted their youth and their lives to the freedom and independence of our country and our happiness today? Recalling the memories of the victory day of the past, to remind myself, my children and all of us to never forget that: behind victory are sacrifices, behind smiles are tears. Remember and cherish that, to add motivation and faith to move forward into the future...