Teammate

My mother and Thuy tried to dissuade him, but he wouldn't listen. My mother was very worried, so she set a condition: "You can go, but Thuy must go with you. Firstly, so she can take care of you, and secondly, so she can witness firsthand how our ancestors fought and sacrificed."

Painting by artist Truong Dinh Dung.

The group departed at 5 a.m. When Thuy and her father arrived at the meeting point, everyone was already there. The group leader arranged the best seat for Thuy.

The old man insisted on pushing Thuy into the seat despite her hesitant refusal: "Don't worry. We're all expert drivers from the Southern battlefield. We might get carsick from people or scenery, but how could we possibly get carsick?"

Everyone on the bus cheered enthusiastically. Thuy found it strange. The group consisted entirely of veterans over seventy years old, yet they were as eager and excited about the trip as the younger generation.

The car was running smoothly, the air conditioning was cool. Just as she was dozing off, Thuy heard the old woman sitting next to her sniffling, so she quickly turned to ask:

- What's wrong, sir? Are you feeling carsick?

- No, my dear. I'm so moved! I remember in early 1968, I took a train from Thanh Hoa to Nghe An station, then got off the train with a group of volunteer youth and marched to Bo Trach, Quang Binh. Back then, we were all very young, not yet twenty, with thick, black, and smooth hair. Now, decades have passed, some are still alive, others have passed away...

Suddenly, Thuy felt a stinging sensation in her nose. Her aunt's voice remained even, as if she were talking to herself:

- My unit was stationed on Road 20, the "Victory Road." Fresh out of school, we went straight to the battlefield. It was the first time we'd witnessed the thick smoke of bombs, the deafening explosions of bullets, and the death of many. Yet, after a while, when the enemy dropped bombs, we'd take shelter in bunkers. When the bombing stopped, we'd rush out again to carry stones, clear roads, and laugh and joke with each other all the time.

Fear had completely vanished. The command from the hearts of all the soldiers at that time was, "Blood may stop flowing, hearts may stop beating, but the arteries of transportation will never be blocked." My child, no one is born brave, no one becomes a hero overnight...

Thùy grew up in peacetime, hearing much about the war through the media, but she had never felt so deeply moved and emotional. She leaned her head on the shoulder of the former youth volunteer, as naturally as leaning on her mother's shoulder. At the other end of the seat, Thùy's father quietly turned away, secretly wiping away tears...

***

The Truong Son National Martyrs' Cemetery is located on Ben Tat hill in Vinh Truong commune, Gio Linh district, Quang Tri province (formerly). Along both sides of the road leading to the cemetery are rows of majestic green pine trees, swaying in the wind. It was almost late afternoon, but crowds of people from all over the country were still flocking in, solemnly lining up to pay their respects.

Thuy painstakingly helped her father hobble step by step on his aching legs. There were times she considered hiring someone to carry him, but he refused. He wanted to go to each grave himself to light incense for his fallen comrades.

Thuy's father enlisted in March 1972 and was assigned to a short-term driving course at the Viet Bac Military Region Driving School. After completing the course, he received orders to march to the Southern battlefield with the task of transporting food, military equipment, weapons, and ammunition to support the fighting.

To avoid detection by enemy aircraft, he and his comrades had to drive at night, on roads with towering mountains on one side and a deep ravine on the other, with the headlights absolutely off. The only light guiding them was the fog lights, the taillights, and the burning flame of patriotism in their hearts. Yet, the vehicle still pressed forward.

Thùy wept aloud as she stood before the grave of a young soldier. Her father had been tormented by guilt and deeply grateful to him for his life. In mid-1973, during a transport mission to the South, her father contracted malaria and was unable to sit up, having to lie in the forest to recover.

Uncle Thanh, a young soldier recently transferred from the North, volunteered to take his father's place on the mission. Unfortunately, the enemy bombed the very road he was driving on. He was killed on his very first day on duty. If his father hadn't been ill back then, the person lying beneath the grass would surely be him, and Thuy wouldn't be alive today.

Father, his voice trembling, lit a cigarette on Uncle Thanh's grave and told Thuy to offer incense at the surrounding graves. The weather in Quang Tri was scorching hot. Truong Son Cemetery was shrouded in the vast expanse of white tombstones and the thick, swirling smoke of incense...

Thuy! Come here, Dad wants to tell you something!

Her father held Thuy's hand, his voice urgent:

- Go after that woman in the black dress and tell her to stop and wait for Dad.

Following her father's directions, Thuy saw a petite woman in a black traditional Vietnamese dress holding the hands of two young girls. Beside them stood a tall, middle-aged man. Thuy ran ahead, bowed respectfully, and said:

- Hello, ma'am. Excuse me, ma'am, could you please slow down a bit and wait for my father? He has something he wants to discuss with you.

The woman looked at Thuy in surprise, her eyebrows slightly furrowed:

Who is my father? Where is he?

- Yes, please wait for me, I'll help my father get here.

Thùy hurried home, helping her father walk step by step in the afternoon sun. At the other end, the woman was also returning with her grandchild. As they were about to meet, Thùy's father exclaimed with joy:

- Spring, it really is spring! Spring just passed by, but I already recognized it.

The woman was reserved:

- Yes, my name is Xuan. But I'm sorry, I didn't recognize you...

- Xuan, it's Chien! Chien was suffering from malaria in the forest in 1973. If it weren't for Xuan's devoted care back then, I wouldn't have made it back safe and sound.

My father tremblingly opened his breast pocket and took out a small paper packet. Inside was a box of Sao Vang ointment, faded with time.

- Do you remember, Xuan, when I recovered from my illness and my comrades picked me up to go south to continue fighting, you gave me this box of Sao Vang balm. Before the trip, for some reason, I had a feeling and hoped I would meet you again, so I brought it with me...

Mrs. Xuan was stunned, then burst into tears, her voice choked with emotion:

- Oh, Chiến, I remember now! It really is Chiến! You've changed so much! My God, what a coincidence to run into you here!

The two veterans embraced, too emotional to speak. After a while, Mrs. Xuan turned to Thuy, wiping away tears as she recounted:

- I'm so emotional seeing your father again! Let's go to that tree over there, have some water, and talk slowly.

Thùy supported her father, clearly feeling the rapid pulse in his arm. Without waiting to reach a place to rest, her father continued walking, asking questions:

- I remember that Xuan's medical team, Unit 46, Battalion 34, consisted of five people: besides Xuan, there was Thuy from Thanh Hoa, Ha from Hai Phong , and Lan and Lien from Phu Tho. Where are they now? Are they still alive or have they passed away?

Mrs. Xuan slowed down, her voice filled with sadness:

- Thuy died from a bullet lodged in her heart, just a few days after he returned to the unit. Three months later, Lan was killed. A barrage of artillery shells cut through her body. You probably remember, Lan was the most beautiful woman in the 46th Medical Team. Fair skin, black hair, and perfectly aligned teeth.

When we finally pulled Lan out of the mud, her face was still fresh and rosy, as if she were alive, and I couldn't hold back my tears. Lan's boyfriend, hearing the news, rushed over, hugged her tightly, and kept burying his head in the ground, sobbing like a child.

We buried Lan at the edge of the forest. I even carefully took the penicillin vial containing soil from the grave and the Thong Nhat matchbox containing nine incense sticks to bring back. When peace was restored, I went to Phu Tho to bring the soil and incense sticks to Lan's family.

In early 1974, I, Ha, and Lien were transferred to different units and lost contact. Recently, thanks to the movement to search for and reconnect former youth volunteers, I learned that Ha is currently living with her children and grandchildren in Hanoi. Lien, however, has disappeared without a trace...

Thuy couldn't believe what Mrs. Xuan had just told her was true. War was truly horrific. The image of the beautiful girl cut in half by an American bomb haunted Thuy. Mrs. Xuan's two grandchildren shed tears upon hearing the story. Thuy felt a sharp pain in her chest...

***

Mrs. Xuan introduced her son and two grandchildren to Thuy and her father. She got married in her thirties. Her husband was also a soldier and driver in the war. They were from the same hometown and attended the same school when they were young, but neither paid attention to the other. It wasn't until peace was restored, through matchmaking by relatives, that they found each other, shared their lives, and built a family together.

"Your daughter is so young?" Mrs. Xuan looked at Thuy affectionately.

- She's almost 30 now. She has two older brothers who are both settled down. She's the youngest daughter, has a stable job, but still hasn't gotten married.

- You're luckier than me. I got married late and only had one son. His wife unfortunately passed away prematurely during the Covid-19 pandemic. It was very difficult, you know. But thankfully, I still have two grandchildren.

- Where's Mr. Xuan? Why didn't he come with you and your children?

Mrs. Xuan's eyes showed a hint of sadness:

- My husband's health has been declining lately, and his war wounds have flared up again. My house is nearby, about 30 kilometers from this cemetery. If you and your father aren't in a hurry, please come visit us.

- What a pity, I have to join the Veterans' delegation to visit the ancient citadel of Quang Tri later. Now that we've met, let's keep in touch, Xuan! I'll definitely bring my wife to visit your family sometime.

Thùy asked for Tuấn's phone number, Mrs. Xuân's son, and gave him hers. Tuấn had a resolute face and a deep, warm, melancholic voice. Thùy noticed that he was very caring towards her mother and attentive to the two children. When they parted ways, he offered to carry Thùy's father to the bus stop.

For some reason, Thuy's father agreed. Looking at the two shadows merging into one long stretch across the cemetery, Thuy's heart pounded. Suddenly, she felt a fondness for this man from Central Vietnam whom she had just met. Mrs. Xuan and the two children linked arms with Thuy affectionately. The sun had softened, and the Trường Sơn afternoon was melancholic and profoundly desolate...

Source: https://baogialai.com.vn/dong-doi-post564485.html