The slingshot

Illustration: Phan Nhan

I had barely arrived at the office, my shirt still soaked with sweat, and before I could even put the sack down, Thanh jumped down from the hammock and hugged me, chattering excitedly:

Did you buy any rubber bands to make a slingshot for me?

I scolded him playfully, annoyed:

- I'm exhausted from downloading all this, and instead of asking how I'm doing, you're demanding... to buy some rope, rubber band, or whatever kind of rope.
That's just what I said, but she knew I never broke a promise, because before I left, I told her: "This time when I go down to the village, I'll send someone to buy some rubber bands to remake your slingshot."

Although only ten years old, Thanh was a sturdy, lively boy, beginning to mature. After the Tet Offensive (1968), Thanh followed his parents into the forest. His family was a revolutionary base in Da Phu hamlet (Ward 7, now part of Da Lat City). After the general offensive and uprising, the family was exposed, so Uncle Hai Chuan, Thanh's father, took the whole family into the forest to join the revolution.

Thanh came to work with me at the Tuyen Duc Provincial Party Committee Office. He worked as a liaison for the agency, his main job being to deliver official documents and letters, and conversely, to receive mail and reports from the liaison station and send them back to the Provincial Party Committee Office.

At the end of 1968, provincial agencies moved to the "Old Beard" base in the western part of Anh Dung district, Ninh Thuan province (the reason for this strange name is that there was a village of the Rac Lay ethnic minority there, and the village elder had a very long beard, so it was called the Old Beard base).

The enemy intensified their terror tactics, sending commandos and scouts to gather intelligence and control access routes between us and the local people in the Ka Đô, Quảng Hiệp, and Tu Tra areas of Đơn Dương district. Although the base was close to the people, the lives of our officers and soldiers were still fraught with difficulties and hardships. Because of these shortages, we often devised ways to improve our daily lives, sometimes fishing, sometimes setting traps for chickens or hunting birds...

I took down the backpack hanging from the ceiling; the musty smell from years of use was really unpleasant. I rummaged around for the slingshot I had just explained to Thanh:

- He intends to use this slingshot to go bird hunting to earn a little extra income.

It exclaimed with joy:

- Then make one for me so we can go bird hunting together, okay?

"When I go down to the hamlet to do the hauling, I'll buy some more rubber bands to make it for you," I said.

Holding the slingshot in my hand, I reminisced about my childhood years... I told him about the slingshot I still keep today. During school holidays, I often wandered into the forest, wading through the Cam Ly stream, circling around the airport to Ta Nung to shoot birds. Years passed, and childhood became a memory. The slingshot hung in the corner of my classroom, a memento of my childhood. But one day... the story was interrupted, by Mr. Le Khai Hoan (later the Director General of the Vietnam National Administration of Tourism ), the Chief of Staff of the agency, who called me in to assign me a new task.

***

Outside the guard post, a few young men were playing cards when they saw Thanh and me returning from our shift. They called us over for a drink and some chat. Suddenly, Thanh suggested:

- Please continue telling us what happened the other day.

I said this while laughing:

- Marry your sister to him, and then he'll tell you the rest of the story about the slingshot.

The young men sitting on the platform shouted in unison, "That's right, unanimously!" accompanied by applause. The boy, embarrassed, blushed, his brows furrowed, mumbled something under his breath.

That day, in 1966, my classmates and I participated in a school strike, taking to the streets with banners demanding better living conditions, democracy, and that the Americans leave the country. Following the university students, we formed a protest group and marched to the Abram-Lincoln Library – also known as the Vietnam-America Library (located within the grounds of the current Provincial Library). Student Pham Xuan Te (former Head of the Organization Department of the Ho Chi Minh City Party Committee after liberation) stood on the roof of a car with a battery-powered loudspeaker, shouting: "American friends go home!" The whole group responded by shouting: "Go away, go away!" and raising their fists. Then, one by one, we marched to the Mayor's office. The Da Lat authorities at the time deployed military police and riot police equipped with tear gas guns, vomit grenades, batons, and truncheons, looking very intimidating, to block the protest.

The fighting broke out right in the streets. Stones, bricks, and pebbles were thrown everywhere. But it was no use. At that moment, I thought to myself, "I have to use a slingshot." After a quick consultation, my friends and I split up and ran home to find slingshots. One after another, pebbles from our small slingshots flew like a hail of projectiles at the faces of the riot police. They used their bulletproof shields to form a wall in front of us to block the pebbles. Then, they retaliated by giving us a taste of tear gas. I have to say, you only know what tear gas tastes like. It was so stinging, tears streamed down my face unbearably. The schoolgirls couldn't stand it and fainted, having to be carried to the rear. Luckily, the mothers and female vendors at the Da Lat market had prepared wet wipes and fresh lemons to soothe their eyes.

***

During the dry season, the forests of the western part of Anh Dung district shed their leaves, leaving only a few scattered green trees along the streams. Birds and animals often come here to nest, hunt, and drink. Since getting his new slingshot, Thanh always brings it along on duty. He often goes to the shallow streams to shoot birds. Sometimes he brings back a whole string of them, his face beaming with joy. When evening comes, the whole group gathers at the guard post to grill the birds with lemongrass and chili, enjoying them with cups of tea.

One day, following the stream, he stumbled upon a strange black object lurking on the other side. Thinking to himself, "It must be a bear," Thanh raised his slingshot and fired. The stone flew past with a "thump," followed by a barrage of M16 bullets. It turned out he had hit the commando's helmet, and the commando, fleeing for his life, lost his sandals in the process. Luckily, having hunted birds, he knew the way and slipped into the dense forest.

Hearing the gunfire and knowing that the enemy was attacking the base, the authorities proactively deployed a counter-attack plan. Militia and guerrillas in the Già Râu village were ready to fight. All paths leading to the village were camouflaged. Stone traps, bows, and spike pits were set up. Anyone who didn't know how to cut through the old trails would immediately fall into a spike pit.

The enemy used OV10 and L19 aircraft to continuously circle and pinpoint targets for artillery and F105 aircraft to bombard the villages and base areas. The sky over the base area was thick with smoke from bombs. The next day, the enemy deployed troops on a large scale. They used chainsaws to cut down old-growth trees to create makeshift airfields for helicopters to land troops on high ground. They bombarded areas day and night with artillery and air strikes suspected of housing military bases. On the ground, they deployed commandos in coordination with infantry to destroy crops in the villagers' fields. A few aggressive infantry units went into the villages searching for supplies, but were caught in booby traps. They used bows and arrows, along with guerrilla forces, to fight back. The self-defense forces of the agencies fought day and night against the enemy's offensive, inflicting considerable casualties. After seven consecutive days and nights, they could not find the base area's command post, so they called in artillery and air strikes before withdrawing to Phan Rang.

Preoccupied with counter-insurgency operations and fighting the enemy, the staff forgot about Thanh. An emergency meeting was convened, and Hoan issued the order:

- We must find Thanh by any means necessary, especially the security guards; they must set out immediately and find her at any cost, bringing her back here.

The entire office was listening attentively when Thanh walked in from outside and said:

- Uncles, I'm home now.

Everyone in the office gasped in surprise. Overjoyed, I jumped up and hugged him tightly, beaming with happiness. Afterwards, he recounted the story:

- When the gunfire started, I ran towards the edge of the field. I crossed the hillside on the other side, cut through the forest to the station, and stayed there with the liaison officers. I asked:

Why aren't you going back to the office?

- If we go back to the headquarters, we'll be surrounded by booby traps and easily targeted by guerrilla fighters carrying bows.

I clicked my tongue and said, "That kid is really clever."

The story about going bird hunting and discovering the commandos was known only to Thanh and me. If it had been revealed, the authorities would have disciplined both of us for disorganization. Ultimately, Thanh's actions unintentionally saved the base area from a major raid, preventing any casualties, all thanks to Thanh's small and simple slingshot.

The story of the slingshot is as simple as the slingshot itself, yet even after nearly 50 years, it remains etched in my memory as unforgettable little recollections of a time of bloodshed and heroism, a time in which the simple and humble slingshots we used played a significant role.

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