Keep the speaker volume from ever turning off.
As the war entered its most intense phase, the land along the Ben Hai River was ravaged by American bombs and bullets. It was on this devastated land that a fierce, persistent, and brutal psychological and political struggle unfolded, no less intense than the gun battles: the "flag-waving" and "loudspeaker-waving" war.
On the South bank, the US-backed regime established a massive psychological warfare machine with a system of high-powered loudspeakers, continuously broadcasting distorted and slanderous propaganda. On the North bank, Vinh Linh Radio Station was given a historical mission: to drown out the enemy's loudspeakers. Whenever the South bank loudspeakers broadcast at high volume, the North bank loudspeakers, determined not to be outdone, sought to increase their power, upgrading their massive loudspeaker clusters from 250W to 500W, even reaching a total power output of tens of kW across the entire line, in order to drown out the enemy's loudspeakers.
During those years, when Vinh Linh was on the front line, a generation of young intellectuals from the North—students who had just graduated from universities and colleges in Hanoi , Hai Phong, Nam Dinh, Nghe An, etc.—volunteered to join the battlefront. They became cadres, reporters, technicians, and others at Vinh Linh Radio Station.
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| Announcer Kim Nhan, Vinh Linh Radio Station - Photo: Archival material |
Mr. Cao Lanh Hung, then a young man from Nghe An, decided to alter his age in his personal record to be able to serve in combat at the 17th parallel. Mr. Hung recalled: “They reviewed my application and found I wasn’t old enough. I secretly thought the only way was to change my birth year in my record by changing the number 9 to 2, meaning I changed 1949 to 1942, and that’s how I got accepted.” Mr. Hung was later hired to work at Vinh Linh Radio Station as a technical worker.
“Back then, the radio lines reached every village, commune, and household. From ordinary people and soldiers to factory workers, if they ever heard the radio without sound, they felt a great sense of loss. That’s why there was a slogan: ‘A broken wire is like a broken gut, a broken pole is like a broken bone,’” Mr. Hung added.
Also young intellectuals from Hanoi, who left behind their peaceful city lives to join the Vinh Linh frontline, Mr. Do Binh and Ms. Dong Thi Lan, former technical workers at the Vinh Linh Radio Station, still fondly remember their youthful years.
Mr. Binh said: "My job at that time was to keep the communication lines running smoothly between the communes. If the line was broken, we had to reconnect it and ensure accuracy to avoid the line from one commune mistakenly going to another. There were many difficulties and dangers, but we all shared the same determination to keep the loudspeakers broadcasting. Some of our comrades sacrificed their lives while still tightly securing the connections."
Ms. Dong Thi Lan is still deeply moved when recalling the time she was sent to the Vinh Linh frontline: “I went to Vinh Linh in 1969, the very day President Ho Chi Minh passed away. Back then, before I left, my principal from the Viet Bac Post and Broadcasting School gave me six biographical records of six people going and instructed me that if I encountered the enemy, I must absolutely protect those records and not let them fall into enemy hands.”
Sharing the same ideals and noble mission, love blossomed between these two people far from home. After the war ended, Mr. Do Binh and Ms. Dong Thi Lan chose to stay in Ho Xa town, Vinh Linh district (formerly) to build a life.
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| The loudspeaker cluster of Vinh Linh Radio Station on the north bank of the Ben Hai River - Photo: Archival material |
Holding both a pen and a gun.
Besides the sons and daughters from the far North who came to provide support, Vinh Linh Radio Station also witnessed the burning love for their homeland and their profession of the people of this fiery land.
In the memory of Mr. Thai Van Tuyen, a former reporter for Vinh Linh Radio Station, he vividly remembers the days working with his colleagues in cramped, sunless A-shaped bunkers, without tables or chairs, and never knowing when bombs would fall. During those years, the moment the bombing stopped was the "signal" for reporters to set out on assignment. Regardless of scorching sun or knee-deep mud, without transportation, these war correspondents, pen in hand and gun in hand, walked barefoot along the slippery, blood-stained embankments of the fortifications, riddled with bomb fragments and barbed wire mixed in the mud. But their steps never slowed, from Ho Xa to Cua Tung, into Gio Linh, and up to Cam Lo.
“The bombing had just begun, the earth and rocks hadn't even settled yet, and the smoke from the bombs was still acrid. We had to be on the scene immediately to record the situation: who had died, who was wounded, and how our people were doing. The pages of the reporter's notebook were sometimes smudged with sweat, reeked of gunpowder, and were even stained with blood. Each hastily written line was sent by reporters running along the trenches to the broadcasting station as quickly as possible,” Mr. Tuyen recalled.
Having experienced the hardships of journalism during wartime, Mr. Tuyen wanted to convey to the younger generation that the heart of a writer, in any era, must begin with dedication. "You must experience the sun and wind of the field, you must directly listen to the breath of life, only then will your writing truly breathe life," he shared.
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| Mr. Thai Van Tuyen (on the right), formerly a reporter for Vinh Linh Radio Station - Photo: AT |
Throughout those years, contributing to the timely and heartfelt news broadcasts was the voice of announcer Nguyen Thi Kim Nhan—a girl from Hue who relocated to the North—with her legendary opening line, "This is Vinh Linh Radio Station." As long as the station continued to broadcast, and the people could still hear Kim Nhan's voice, it meant that Vinh Linh remained strong, and the information lifeline of the Party and Government remained uninterrupted. Announcer Kim Nhan's voice conveyed messages of the aspiration for national reunification, giving strength to tens of thousands of people on both sides of the Ben Hai River to fight against the American imperialists and their puppets.
There have been countless touching stories about the bravery and sacrifice of the officers, reporters, and staff of the radio station who protected the loudspeakers throughout the fierce years of war. Mr. Ngo Luong, son of martyr Ngo Trang - former head of Vinh Linh Radio Station - choked up as he recalled the fateful moment for his family: “It was the afternoon of September 10, 1967, in our family's A-shaped bunker, my father and the technicians were preparing for the news broadcast. After a series of devastating carpet bombings by American planes, our family's bunker was hit. When the villagers dug up the earth and rocks, my father and his colleagues had already perished, their blood mingling with the unfinished news broadcasts.”
Not only Ngo Trang, but Vinh Linh Radio Station has had 7 martyrs who fell in the line of duty, along with many wounded soldiers. Names like Nguyen Van Thi, Nguyen Bieu, Ngo Thi Diem, Nguyen Thi Thao... are always remembered by their colleagues.
The loudspeakers of Vinh Linh still resound throughout the streets today. But this sound is no longer mixed with the noise of gunfire; instead, it is filled with peaceful, vibrant melodies, reflecting the rhythm of new life on the journey of rebuilding the homeland.
Snowlight
Source: https://baoquangtri.vn/chinh-polit/202606/tieng-loa-tren-vung-dat-gioi-tuyen-f3c21d0/











