Short story: Years of memories

After the scorching heat, the weather was milder. On the small path leading to the lagoon, bougainvillea flowers were blooming. Mr. Phong called out: “Where is the person who produces the most rice in the area?”. “I’m here, I’m here.” Mr. Phong could not hide his joy. “There’s news from Tue.” Mr. Phong’s words made Mr. Hanh’s sweaty face bloom. The two men quickly discussed the connection situation and obtained valuable information about martyr Tue. They planned to return to the old battlefield this weekend to find out more information, then complete the procedures to bring Mr. Tue back to his hometown.

After dinner, Mr. Hanh prepared his things first. When he opened the cupboard door and took out his briefcase, he touched the package containing Mr. Tue's army shirt. Although the shirt was old, every time he took it out to look at it, his eyes filled with tears. He called Mr. Phong again, as if to reassure himself: "I hope our efforts will be rewarded. I thought there was no more hope." Mr. Phong laughed heartily: "A woman who has worked hard, her husband will not betray her. Maybe, Tue will show us the way."

The night was silent. His eyes were wide open. Mr. Hanh went to the corner of the yard to silently watch the blooming night-blooming cereus flowers. The moon was shining brightly. The whole countryside seemed to be gilded by the moonlight. Memories took him back to a difficult yet heroic time…

***

He volunteered to join the army on a day of heavy rain. The fields were flooded. The tall man was chosen to attend a special forces training course and then went to battlefield B. In his hometown, he fell in love with a virtuous neighbor girl. Her image followed him every step of the march, every battle. One day, his wounded comrade was on leave, Mr. Hanh asked him to bring a letter to his parents, along with a poem for his neighbor. When he arrived in Quang Ngai, his comrade was ambushed and shot dead by the enemy. After burying his comrade, a soldier continued to bring the letter to the address written there. He thought the person he was burying was Le Duy Hanh, so he stood before Mr. Hanh's parents and said: "I would like to express my condolences to you two... Mr. Hanh has sacrificed..."

Fighting hard, Mr. Hanh was wounded five times. After the liberation, he returned to work as a military administrator in Nha Trang, then “seven or six” to the North, and was able to visit his family. In front of the quiet house with his old and weak parents, he hugged his parents and cried. His mother choked up: “Thank God, everyone thought I was…”.

All the sadness and despair turned into overwhelming joy. The house was warmer. The veteran tearfully lit incense on the altar with his image. That afternoon, he asked his neighbor about her story, but she had already followed her husband. He was deeply saddened. Stories of laughter and tears, loss during the chaos and bombs were normal. He was heartbroken when he met his relatives and neighbors again. The village nestled by a small river, only had the elderly, women and children. The war took away many strong young men, and returned men covered with wounds...

The months are filled with incense smoke. It is sad and desolate, but people today still have to live. Mr. Hanh married Mrs. Hoa - the wife of a martyr, in the neighboring commune, and had a son. Their sons and daughters were born one after another. The veteran struggled to make a living, to show his gratitude to his parents. He farmed and sold fish sauce. After three years of hard work, poverty was still there. The wounds in his body did not allow him to struggle in the difficult business world. He returned to his hometown to borrow money, rent ponds, borrow land to improve, grow trees and raise fish. Difficulties piled on difficulties. The villagers admired Mr. Hanh and his wife for daring to turn a stagnant area with wild grass as high as a person's head into a beautiful farm.

***

Coming back to the village a year after Mr. Hanh, Mr. Phong limped and had poor eyesight, but he did not give up on hardship. Two years later, he got married and took care of the crops. His wife was three years older than him, hard-working and kind. Their life was full of hardships, like a field exposed to the summer sun all year round. She gave birth to three children, two of whom were “not as smart as other people”, named Hien, Luong, and Vuong. Of the three children, Luong was the most thoughtful but only finished the fourth grade and then dropped out. He still thought that the hardships now were not even a fraction of those of the past, and encouraged his wife: “God created elephants and grass, my dear”. The couple encouraged each other to work, and life became less difficult. That time, he went to visit a comrade who had lost an arm in a neighboring commune and saw some tin pots and a dusty backpack in the corner of the house. While talking about who was still alive and who was gone, the comrade exclaimed: “Who will remember our time?”

From then on, Mr. Phong had the idea of ​​collecting relics to bridge the past, present and future. During his collection trips, he also connected information to find martyrs' graves. Some people said he was crazy. Others said he was crazy. He didn't care. He knew what he needed and "worked on his ideas" with his wife and children. At first, his wife didn't listen, but then, seeing her husband's determination to do good deeds, she let him bring the things home. He went like a fugitive. Like a moth to a flame. Twenty-five years, with a thousand relics, contributing to finding dozens of martyrs' remains and connecting thousands of pieces of information. I don't know where he got the strength to do so much...

***

Pure morning. The car left the alley and headed to the main road, heading towards the old battlefield. Mr. Phong was reassured with the information he had. He sang a lot on this trip. After five days and four nights, the private car returned. It was a beautiful sunny day. The homeland opened its arms. Comrades were happy. Martyr Tue was brought back to be buried in his hometown cemetery. Mr. Phong could not hide his joy because he had completed another good deed. On the contrary, deep down, Mr. Hanh was somewhat sad. He had promised martyr Tue's wife, but he did not believe that he could find her husband's remains.

After finishing the work of martyr Tue's family, Mr. Hanh opened the closet door and brought the old army uniform to Mr. Phong's house. The space was filled with many souvenirs. Bomb shells, bullet shells, pilot helmets of our army and the enemy. There were garrison shirts, flasks, pith helmets, bayonets. On the other side were placed the shell of a Mk 82 folding-wing bomb, flares, or in the right corner were some wartime communication equipment... Mr. Phong's "house of souvenirs" was like a small museum with artifacts that could speak.

A few birds chirped on the clothesline in the yard. Under the star fruit tree with its many fruits, Mr. Phong placed a stone table and chairs to conveniently serve tea. The scent of lotus tea was fragrant. After taking the first sip of tea, Mr. Hanh said sadly:

- There is one thing I hope you understand. I used to think you were crazy to spend your family's money, run around to find out, connect, and match sources of information to find the remains of your comrades, while your children were still suffering. Now I bring the shirt that Tue forgot at home for you to display. This is the only keepsake of Tue that his wife gave me more than ten years ago.

Mr. Phong held Mr. Hanh's hand:

- If she gave it to you, then you can keep it. I have no intention of fighting over a keepsake with my friend.

Mr. Hanh shook his head:

- No. This keepsake must be placed here to have meaning. Honestly, you and I were not in the same unit, but we both went through military life, life and death, I was narrow-minded, over the years I silently compared myself with you, even with the things you did. You worked harder than me but still tried hard, and did things that others did not dare to do. How admirable. Then my son, that time he was rude to you. I did not scold him, but defended him.

Mr. Phong said:

- Look. Your beautiful pond is a testament to your never-give-up spirit. I know, in the early years, you also had bad harvests, your wife and children were hungry. But you overcame them. And as for the children, they don't understand, and they are rude to adults, that's normal. He has two children now, right?

The atmosphere seemed tense. The conversation became a bit formal.

Mr. Phong did not want the story to become heavy, so he tried to lighten it.

Mr. Phong's son Luong had been listening to the two men's conversation for a while. Only then did he speak up:

- Dad and uncle, don't think about heavy things. If you think less, your heart will be lighter. What should be let go should be let go...

Thanks to Luong, the two men forgot to be polite. Mr. Phong received the package and confided in Mr. Hanh about the upcoming trip. It was still about information about martyrs' remains and finding souvenirs. Time had blurred many areas of memory, so Mr. Phong wanted to take advantage of every opportunity to see the items. He bragged to Mr. Hanh:

- He is good at making bird cages, and the number of customers is increasing, so I get a lot of help with the expenses for each trip. The writing on the artifacts is all thanks to him. He is very clever now.

When Mr. Hanh said that Luong needed someone to take care of him, he shook his head:

- I'll stay single and keep the museum for my father later, uncle!

Mr. Phong was happy because all three of his children had gotten better over the past three years. Luong was bold and smart. He was getting to know someone and if they were compatible, they would get married at the end of the year. When he learned that his friend's eldest and youngest daughters had learned a trade, knew how to work, and took care of themselves, Mr. Hanh was very happy.

- I don't know how to express it, indeed, you are too good at taking care of things.

Mr. Phong laughed heartily:

- It's all thanks to my wife. She does the farming, runs the market, and takes care of the children. I feel blessed. And you're a head above everyone else. You sell dozens of tons of rice every year.

Luong carried the cage, inside was a pair of beautiful nightingales, to his father and Mr. Hanh.

- If you don't mind, I'd like to give you this pair of birds. You can put the cage on the porch, so you can still hear their singing whether you're gardening or going to the pond.

Mr. Hanh looked at Mr. Phong. Mr. Phong nodded.

- Okay. I accept. I really don't know how to thank you two.

The afternoon mist had long since fallen. Mr. Hanh carried the bird cage home. His heart felt light because his tangled thoughts had been cleared. At the end of the lane, colorful bougainvillea flowers lit up a long strip, as if welcoming him. The two birds had sung their first songs, in the garden filled with the fragrant scent of flowers and fruits. Mr. Hanh said to the two birds, and also to himself: “Mr. Phong has succeeded in teaching Luong. Good. Really good!”