Those who write songs to protect the country...

(Baonghean) - 1. My father was a soldier. He entered the war against America when he was a student at the University. At that time, there were many young men like my father who "put down their pens and followed the sword and bow". Many of them wrote blood letters to be able to go to war. They joined the army to the front line, creating a boiling atmosphere of "camouflage rustling like the wind in the forest".

My father, like many other comrades, in his letters home, told his mother: “Mom, don’t be sad. I’ll be back with you on the day of peace and reunification. If I don’t come back, our country will definitely have peace.” Later, I, a 3rd grade girl, asked my father: “Why didn’t you go to school but chose to go to the battlefield?” My father answered simply: “No one wants to choose the battlefield, my child. But if I and the soldiers don’t go to the front, the sky above won’t be yours. You won’t have time to salute the flag, sing the national anthem “The Vietnamese Army Goes On” every week, and maybe on the world map, there won’t be two words: Vietnam.” Later, I understood more, “soldiers are the ones who pray for Peace more than anyone else.” My father, in his life stories, always mentioned his fallen comrades, even those who returned unharmed. He may forget many things, but he will never forget the faces of his comrades and the uniform.

The day my father passed away, many of his old comrades came to see him off. They put on their military uniforms, stood at attention, and saluted in response to the command. Oh, the green shirt, like a signal, no, more than that, it was the trust and love that had been formed, the emotional comradeship, comradeship passed on to each other, until death.

Officers and soldiers of the 215th Tank Brigade review the formation on the traditional day. Tran Hai

2.Whenever I think of soldiers, I cannot help but recite the poem “Homecoming Day”. The soldiers in Chinh Huu’s poems are simple young men like many others we have met in life, but they exude the beauty of people with noble ideals. They rush into battle, despite the bombs and bullets, wearing black muddy shoes, wearing shirts covered in the dust of the long march… “The young men who have not yet paid their heroic debt/ Souls of the ten directions flutter with bright red flags/ The thousand-mile shoes are tattered/ The dust of the long march has faded the elegant shirt/ The green hair vows to last until old age/ Exposed to the sun, wind, flowers and wild grass”.

I know that when the shirts lose their splendor, they will be “torn at the shoulders” or “have a few patches”, or even “their robes will replace their mats when they return to the ground”, the soldiers with green hair can become “hairless soldiers”, and can also fall “on the three-layer steel wire”…, but when they carry the blood of Uncle Ho’s soldiers, they always radiate the spirit of those “whose hand has not yet left the gun”. I don’t know why I always think of them like that, simple but splendor, rustic and genuine but noble. They are like the leaves of the morning, green and cool in the vast forest, but with a blazing fire in their hearts, they are ready to burn for a beautiful dawn of the nation. They are the torches that are always kept to burn brightly… From ancient times until tomorrow…

3.For many years now, the familiar green shirt of the soldier has become a symbol of the desire for Peace, a symbol of perseverance and determination in the face of life and death challenges. In the midst of modern life, seeing that green color suddenly warms our hearts. It is strange that, when it is so simple, that green color makes us see the sacred spirit of rivers and water everywhere around us. I still keep that feeling intact when every spring, standing before the young men waving their hands out the car window to say goodbye to their relatives who are leaving for the army. Those young men, with faces like those of their fathers and grandfathers from long ago, continue a journey to defend the country.

Faces, hearts that “would not hurt a leaf on a branch”, but when facing a brutal enemy, they become the bravest people. That face will darken before the bow of a patrol boat, will harden on the tops of high mountain passes covered with frost. That arm will firmly raise above the brim of the hat to salute the flag at a border marker in a remote area, or on a faraway island with waves crashing, where the wind and sun can fade the flag in just a few days. Those who decided to swear an oath: “Loyal to the country, filial to the people” overcame all hardships, ready to embrace the red flag with a yellow star and fall into the motherland before the guns of the invaders. And it was they who let us see our Fatherland more clearly!

Nghe An weekend