The man who went through two wars

For several years now, around the end of July (June in the Gregorian calendar), my friend and I have been visiting the surviving Vietnamese Heroic Mothers in the province. Usually, I drive my old car along the beautiful village roads and winding paths through peaceful hamlets to reach them. The June sun in our region is scorching, but thanks to this meaningful activity, I've traveled through fragrant villages, lush green fields, and beautiful bridges connecting the two banks...

Illustration: LE NGOC DUY

I sped through the midday sun, driving through a rural village with lush green rice paddies beside a deep red village gate. The car glided along smoothly, filling me with exhilaration. In my eyes, this place was beautiful, from the potato fields and cassava patches sprawling green beneath the white sand, to the bridges, though rustic, that, nestled beneath rows of golden bamboo bathed in sunlight, became poetic...

I was driving at a fairly fast pace when I suddenly spotted a bench by the roadside. On the bench sat a man with long hair, almost completely covering his face, hunched over dreamily. He was muttering the lyrics of an old song, "Life is still beautiful, love is still beautiful...", then tilting his rough face, with its high, straight nose and long, vacant, sad eyes, up to the harsh midday sun. My car drove past, but the man remained tilted back like that. I stopped my car by the roadside to ask an old man nearby about the man sunbathing there.

Here's what happened...

The old man began his story like that. He spoke slowly, while I was getting impatient. I urged him to speak faster, but he dragged on...

His name was Thach. Mr. Thach was from this village, by the winding Thach Han River that branches out to the sea. His parents moved to the North shortly after he was born. I heard they lived in Vinh Linh for a while before moving to Hanoi . That's why he speaks with such a sweet and warm Northern accent! In 1972, after finishing high school in the North, he didn't go to university but volunteered in blood to return to fight in his hometown. After four months of training in a hilly area, Mr. Thach joined the troop movement into Quang Tri. He hadn't even set foot in his village yet, but just being able to fight on his homeland made him very happy. Later, when he was in good health and his mind was clear, he confided in me about this.

Having been assigned to C12, Thach was always proud to be a soldier of a unit with glorious achievements on his homeland. Every time I heard him recount the battles he participated in with his comrades, I felt as if I could see his youth reflected in his radiant smile.

In that smile lay hope for tomorrow, for an old promise from his high school days in Hanoi with a beautiful and intelligent girl. At the bottom of his backpack, he always carried a picture and a message from this girl. Indeed, Mr. Thach was a "handsome man," as young people nowadays often say. He had a high, straight nose, sharp, expressive eyes with long, thick eyelashes, a wide mouth, and a perfectly shaped, heart-shaped mouth that was charming whenever he spoke or smiled.

Once, Thach told me in a very cheerful mood: "My friends always encouraged me to apply to film school because I'm handsome and talented, but I want to do something worthy of a man in times of war." And indeed, he proved himself "worthy of a man" when he participated in the C12 raid on the ML military zone on the night of March 8th and the morning of March 9th, 1975. Mr. Thach returned to his hometown and has lived in the same village as me for twenty years now. Even though his mental health isn't normal now, just hearing that he was a special forces soldier makes me feel fond of him.

The old man spoke to me slowly, as if he hadn't had anyone to share his thoughts with in a long time. And it was true, because only occasionally, when Mr. Thach was well, would he have someone to confide in. Otherwise, he would sit and watch over Mr. Thach from afar, saying, "Just in case the chair tipped over and Mr. Thach fell, at least someone would see him!" The old man paused, taking a drag on his deeply rolled cigarette. He laughed and told me, "This 'bug' tobacco is clean and delicious, I don't smoke those filtered, low-quality cigarettes!" He said he had planted a few rows, and the southern sun dried them until they were crispy, enough to last until the next season. Then he winked, "Let me tell you more..."

Do you remember the part where I told you about Mr. Thach's date with a high school girl? Of course you remember, right? On Liberation Day, Thach's parents quickly arranged to return to their hometown. Parents and children reunited, filled with mixed emotions of joy and sadness. Thach's parents were overjoyed, as if they had struck gold, because their only son was still alive and well. Thach had graduated from high school and, recognized by his superiors for his abilities, quick wit, and adaptability, was sent to study at the Special Forces Officer School. Before leaving, he requested ten days of leave.

Of the ten days, Thach spent three with his parents, and for the remaining seven, he packed his worn-out backpack, a constant companion from his years on the battlefield, and set off for the North with the intention of reuniting with his high school girlfriend, even though he had resolutely refused to send her a single letter during his more than three years in the war! He planned to rekindle their romance and then enroll in university. The soldier, who had spent over three years fighting in life-or-death situations, innocently went to meet his old flame in his faded, worn-out military uniform. She had graduated from university and had just started working as an engineer at a confectionery factory.

But the girl didn't reject him. When she met him, she cried profusely, checked him all over to see if he was hurt anywhere, and then took him home to introduce him to her parents. Her parents liked him very much and even insisted that he marry her immediately. But the two decided not to get married and continued to wait.

On the day he graduated and joined the army heading to the border, his girlfriend pursed her lips tightly. He realized that her face had lost its innocence and become much more resilient. He suddenly felt guilty, for letting her youth slip away because of him. He left with a troubled heart, leaving behind her longing eyes. That year he turned twenty-six.

***

For six years on the northern border battlefield, Thach was like a local, fluent in the Tay and Nung languages, intimately familiar with the terrain, every tree and blade of grass. His footprints could be found along the more than 330 kilometers of the Cao Bang border, in every district and commune. As a reconnaissance battalion commander, he not only guided his subordinates in carrying out their missions, but his own feet touched many rocks, his hands gripped many border bushes to gather information about the enemy, finding ways to support friendly units in fighting and defeating them. He went on more reconnaissance missions than the soldiers themselves. Yet, in six years, he only returned to Hanoi five times. And each time, it was for work, not to see his lover.

Thach told me, "Back then, seeing those soldiers on the other side was so infuriating, I just wanted to fight. So many of our comrades died, it hurt so much, that I didn't feel comfortable going back to get married, so I kept postponing it with her." Normally, he didn't go back to Hanoi to be with his girlfriend, but Thach wrote her letters every month. Then, in the fourth year, an incident occurred. Thach was wounded during a reconnaissance mission along the border. When he woke up in the military hospital, the doctor said that his male function was gone! From then on, he remained completely silent, without a word of farewell to the girl who had waited for him for over a decade.

***

Thach was discharged from the army in 1986 with a 75% disability rating. When he returned, his parents were already old and frail. He couldn't tell them that he couldn't get married. His former strength and handsome appearance were gone. Thach became thin and withdrawn, his charming smile and laughter gone. His parents urged him to get married, but eventually gave up. Around 1992 or 1993, they passed away. And the handsome, intelligent Thach of yesteryear, the brilliant special forces scout of the past, was all that remained, as you see now. The old man paused, looking at me with sorrowful eyes.

I looked towards the man basking in the sun. His high forehead was stubborn and resolute. The corners of his mouth were tightly pressed together in endurance. I was certain of one thing: perhaps his physical appearance was tattered, but his intellect was not as "tattered" as his outward appearance suggested. I made a bold decision: to find the woman from his past for him.

And through various modern means, I found her, the girl with the braided hair and gentle, oval face who was once his companion. She remained unmarried after repeatedly searching for him at the border following the war. She believed he had perished in some rocky crevice along the border while on reconnaissance and stepped on a landmine.

Some of his former comrades unexpectedly met her when they returned to the old battlefield. Upon hearing her story, they recognized her as the fiancée of their former commander and encouraged her to return home, assuring her that he was still alive and had returned to his hometown.

They also explained to her the reason why he left her. However, she still refused to believe it, stubbornly insisting that he had sacrificed himself and that she had to remain unmarried to honor him... She said, "My name is Thuy - I will remain faithful to him."

I finally found Mrs. Thuy after more than six months of contemplating searching for her. She was stunned for a moment when I explained the situation, then burst into tears. The tears of a woman thought to have dried up from suffering suddenly flowed freely. She smiled and said, "It's not that I didn't want to find him, but I didn't dare believe he was still alive."

"How could he be alive and not come back to me? He's really alive, isn't he?" As for him, the man from the windy, sandy region who had lived through two wars and seemed devoid of any emotion for love or youth, when I led Mrs. Thuy's hand and placed it in his, he trembled. His lips moved, calling out, "Thuy! Thuy!" and he hugged her tightly. Suddenly, I no longer saw on his face the image of the sun-drenched man I once knew.

***

That day was the first day of spring. A man of about 70 years old was leading a woman of similar age to the Tet market. The man wore a new military uniform and carried a branch of peach blossoms with budding flowers; the woman wore a plum-colored ao dai (traditional Vietnamese dress) and carried a branch of apricot blossoms with a few petals already unfurled. They walked in the pristine spring morning light. The sparkling spring sunshine illuminated their faces, which had appeared aged by time.

Khanh Ha

Source: https://baoquangtri.vn/truyen-ngan-nguoi-dan-ong-di-qua-hai-cuoc-chien-191853.htm