The joy of Liberation Day

Vu got off the bus at 4:30 p.m. He wasn't in a hurry to go home, but instead wandered around looking for his old friend to chat with. The familiar three-wheeled cart was parked outside the wholesale market, but there was no one there. Vu looked at the wooden bed tied to two trees by the roadside, still swaying, and knew that Mr. Bao must have just left, perhaps stopping by the back of the market to buy a packet of sticky rice to eat.

Mrs. Bau's roadside tea stall also opened late. Lien, her daughter, busily set up her stall, offering Vu a chair, and without anyone asking, explained, "The weather changed today, and my mother's old wound flared up again, so she has to stay home." That's understandable! Even young, healthy people get sick in this unpredictable weather. Vu poured himself a cup of hot tea and sipped it while waiting for the old man to finish his delivery. As he opened his backpack to get his notebook, a mother-of-pearl inlaid wooden box fell out. Vu held the gift the old war veteran had given him that afternoon, his heart still filled with the same emotion.

Illustration: PV

- It's beautiful! Where did you buy that handcrafted item? Please tell me where.

- I received it as a gift. It looks so meticulously crafted, yet it was made by the hands of an old war veteran who lost one hand. He's a master craftsman from a famous traditional village.

Vu leaned against the rough wall behind him, wearing headphones to transcribe the audio recording of an interview for a special issue commemorating the liberation of South Vietnam and the reunification of the country. A hearty laugh rang out, and Mr. Hung pulled out a wicker chair and invited his guest to sit. Brewing a fresh pot of tea, he asked Vu what he was doing there. "Looking at you, I can tell you're not a customer," he said. Taking a sip of tea, his eyes gazed into the distance, memories flooding back vividly. It was as if enemy planes were circling in the sky before him.

- You're asking about the Central Highlands campaign? You're asking how old I was when I enlisted? 17. Back then, there were many people younger than me. We came from all over the country, meeting each other on many fierce battlefields. Each of us carried our own stories, but everyone's eyes sparkled the same way when they thought about the day of complete victory.

- Have you ever wondered how the people who fought alongside you in the Central Highlands campaign are living now?

- Many of them perished on the battlefield. Those fortunate enough to return continued their studies and productive work, just like me. Believe it or not, I encounter them every day in my memories.

His memories take him back to his early days in the army. At that time, he was trained at the 299th Regiment, Engineering Command. In 1974, he was transferred to the 299th Engineering Brigade of the 1st Army Corps. In early January 1975, due to the urgent demands of the situation, his unit temporarily left the 1st Army Corps and advanced south into the B3 battlefield in the Central Highlands to participate in the historic Central Highlands campaign. He vividly remembers the night crossing Ferry 10, when the enemy heavily bombed the area. Many of his comrades fell that very night, never having the chance to see the national flag flying on the day of reunification.

- We marched tirelessly through the night, trying to reach Buon Ma Thuot. Near dawn, the entire unit hid in long, deep trenches (30-40cm) to avoid flares. The unit was tasked with clearing the way, so we split into small groups to advance deep into the area, getting close to the target, and waiting for orders to clear the path.

That night must have been very long, wouldn't you say?

- Yes! Before the attack, the entire forest was quiet and still. Until 2:03 AM on March 10, 1975, the Central Highlands Campaign Command issued the order to open fire and attack Buon Ma Thuot town. The entire forest shook. Groups of tanks, already waiting, bravely rammed through the already felled trees, revealing a path for trucks carrying weapons and ammunition to easily advance and attack the Mai Hac De General Depot. At the same time, from all directions, our troops attacked the town's airport; the administrative area, the logistics area, the Treasury Department… By 10:00 AM on March 11, 1975, our troops had completely taken control of the town.

So, you were also wounded in this final battle?

This wasn't the final battle.

- My unit pursued the enemy along National Highway 14, then at Chơn Thành, we followed Highway 13 to liberate Saigon. I was wounded in the battle at Đồng Dù base in Củ Chi, which was considered the "steel gate" guarding the northwest of Saigon.

The ringing of the phone brought him back to reality. "It's a customer, they're urging me to deliver the order on time," he said leisurely as he poured tea for Vu. His workshop was located in the local mother-of-pearl inlay village. Vu took a tour, mesmerized by the elaborate and exquisite mother-of-pearl inlay products. He captured the moment when the old man's hands, no longer intact, meticulously carved each detail. Having survived the war, he returned to his homeland to continue and preserve the values ​​of the traditional craft village with all his heart.

***

After finishing the delivery, Mr. Bao returned to the same spot and held out a bag of sugarcane to Vu and Lien, saying, "A gift from the landlord." Vu asked:

- How many trips have you had today?

- Enough to eat. But why are you still here at this hour? Aren't you going to play soccer?

- I came because I wanted to ask permission to write about you.

- Write about me? What is there to write about this old man?

- I would like to hear you tell me about the Battle of Trang Bom during the historic Ho Chi Minh Campaign.

- Well, I've told you that several times already. Just kidding, I'm not going to be in the newspaper. When there's an enemy, you take up arms; everyone does that. So many of my comrades didn't even get a chance to have their names mentioned.

He lay down on the cot and hummed a tune. Reaching into his faded army uniform, he pulled out a stack of his day's wages, counting and smoothing each bill. He would give all the money to his wife to use for household expenses. In these times of devaluation and countless expenses, his and his wife's lack of a salary made life even harder. None of their children were well-off, and he didn't want to depend on others. As long as he had his health, he would work. He remembered how hard and dangerous life had been during the war, yet they had still triumphed. The struggle for food and money in peacetime couldn't possibly defeat him. Although his old wounds occasionally flared up, causing him pain for days, it didn't matter. With God's and people's support, hard work meant he wouldn't go hungry. If no one hired him again, he would return home. His small house was on the outskirts of town, just across the bridge. After showering, eating, and getting a good night's sleep, he woke up at midnight to earn a living in the wholesale market. As if suddenly remembering something, he turned to Vu and said:

- I forgot to tell you, the other day I was sleeping when I suddenly received a call from an unknown number. I thought it was some scammer about to yell at me, but it turned out to be an old comrade. I don't know how he found my number. We were in the same 8th Battalion, 266th Infantry Regiment. The other day, when the battalion coordinated with tanks to approach the target at Bau Ca, breaking through the enemy's resistance, he was hit by a bullet and we thought he wouldn't make it. But he's still perfectly fine. Later, he became a village schoolteacher and married a capable and skillful woman. Their children are all grown up. Now he stays at home, tending to his garden and plants.

- Since the liberation, have you gentlemen never had a reunion with your comrades?

- Well, everyone was in a different place. Back then, there were no means of communication. Only recently have we managed to reconnect; some are still alive, some have passed away, so there aren't many left. Even so, the fact that we still remember each other in our hearts is enough. If we meet again, we'll feel as close as we did back then, sharing rations, water, sacrificing our lives, and shielding each other from bullets and bombs.

- This year marks the 50th anniversary of the liberation of South Vietnam, so why don't you gentlemen get together?

- Well, we're thinking about it. My friends and I are discussing whether we should take a trip to Ho Chi Minh City to see the parade at the Reunification Hall. To relive a part of the atmosphere of Liberation Day. 50 years have passed so quickly. In 50 years, I'm sure none of us will still be around.

The sky had darkened without anyone noticing. Mr. Bao packed up his hammock, preparing to cross the bridge to go home for dinner, where his wife was waiting. Suddenly remembering something, Vu turned back and asked Lien:

- Why did you ask where to buy this mother-of-pearl jewelry box earlier?

- Oh! I was planning to buy it as a gift for my mother. My mother doesn't have any expensive jewelry. She just has a comb made from the wreckage of a B-52 and an old silver bracelet, which she keeps carefully wrapped in a handkerchief—it's such a pity.

Vu smiled, looking at the sparkling mother-of-pearl mosaics, which were surely as beautiful as the stars in the night sky over the Central Highlands forest that Mr. Hung had once described. He gave this gift to a female military medic from the war. Lien held the gift in her hand, imagining her mother's happy eyes, and couldn't help but feel emotional. The streetlights were already on, sparkling…

Source: https://baophuyen.vn/tin-noi-bat/202504/niem-vui-ngay-giai-phong-adb2385/