My brother - a soldier on Truong Sa Island.

My mother passed away suddenly on a windy, rainy day in March. My brother lay there, clinging tightly to her, like the scrawny little boy he once was, snuggling into her arms. Then, quietly, he volunteered to go to Truong Sa, the place where he had spent his youth. Perhaps, for him, it was there that he could heal the pain of her sudden death. I promised at my mother's grave: "I will visit him, Mom." And I did have the opportunity to go to Truong Sa.

During my days at sea, I experienced a very unusual life. Eating and sleeping regularly, staying away from my phone, gazing at the seagulls, being overwhelmed when I saw dolphins swimming gracefully in the ocean, and watching the vibrant red sunrise every morning. Peaceful, relaxed, full of life and love for people.

Upon visiting my first island—Da Lon C—I truly understood the immense gratitude I felt towards the soldiers. It turned out that the peace I enjoyed was bought with the youth, sweat, blood, and tears of the soldiers on the island—hardworking, courageous, and steadfast men loyal to their country.

On the second day, our Task Force No. 9 arrived at Nam Yet Island. Just like yesterday, I eagerly ran to the deck to find him, searching like a child looking for his mother, scanning every corner, and suddenly spotted a familiar figure lurking in the waiting truck. I shouted, "Brother! Brother!" The tall, thin figure flung open the truck door and rushed out, waving frantically. I dashed into the room, grabbed the bag I'd prepared for him—a jumble of things: cassava flour, coffee, various nuts... and then ran back to the deck. He reached out from the island, and I eagerly stretched out from the side of the ship. My hand touched his dark, calloused hands. Tears welled up in my eyes. I understood how hard he had worked. Reaching the island, I hugged him tightly, patting him repeatedly, sobbing, "Mom knows she was worried." My brother gently reassured me, as always: "I'm fine. I'm perfectly fine here."

I looked at him, dark-skinned, thin, but radiant with happiness. Here he had comrades, ideals, and a place to contribute. After the shock of losing his mother, this land, this island, was where he found peace and healing. Therefore, no matter how hard he worked, how much sun and wind he endured, he still felt happy.

I dragged him around showing him off everywhere, so proud to have an older brother who was a soldier stationed on the island. My brother was still the same, smiling gently and kindly at everyone. For three hours on the island, I clung to him like the spoiled little girl I used to be. He took me to see the symbols of Nam Yết Island: the sacred temple, the statue of Trần Hưng Đạo, the border marker, the banyan tree...

At the locations my delegation visited, there were many soldiers who were day and night guarding the sea and islands, protecting every inch of land and every stretch of sea for the Fatherland. Because I loved my brother, I loved the soldiers on the islands even more. As I left each island, I stood on the ship's deck, tears welling up in my eyes, waving goodbye to the soldiers. A feeling of wistfulness, emotion, and gratitude gradually permeated every fiber of my being, every tremor of my heart.

I have come to understand the saying, "Going to Truong Sa makes you love your homeland even more." I will forever love my homeland, Vietnam, and Truong Sa, just as my brother loved them.

Nguyen Thanh Huong

Source: https://baohaiquanvietnam.vn/tin-uc/anh-toi-linh-dao-truong-sa