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Dang Thuy Tram’s Dairies

Đặng Thùy Trâm (b. Huế, Vietnam, November 26, 1943; d. Đức Phổ, Quảng Ngãi Province, Vietnam, June 22, 1970) was a Vietnamese civilian doctor who worked as a battlefield surgeon for North Vietnam during the Vietnam War. She was killed, in disputed circumstances, at the age of 27, by United States forces while travelling on a trail in the Ba To jungle in the Quảng Ngãi Province of south-central Vietnam. Her wartime diaries, which chronicle the last two years of her life, attracted international attention following their publication in 2005.One of Trâm's handwritten diaries was captured by U.S. forces in December 1969. Following her death in a gun battle on June 22, 1970, a second diary was taken by Frederic (Fred) Whitehurst, then a 22-year-old U.S. military intelligence specialist. Whitehurst defied an order to burn the diaries, instead following the advice of a South Vietnamese translator who advised him not to destroy them. He kept them for 35 years, with the intention of eventually returning them to Trâm's family, if possible.Whitehurst's search for Trâm's family initially proved unsuccessful. In March 2005, he and his brother Robert (also a Vietnam War veteran) brought the diaries to a conference on the Vietnam War at Texas Tech University. There they met photographer Ted Engelmann (also a Vietnam veteran), who offered to look for the family during his trip to Vietnam the next month. With the assistance of Do Xuan Anh, a staff member in the Hanoi Quaker office, Engelmann was able to locate Trâm's mother, Doan Ngoc Tram, and family.In July 2005, Trâm's diaries were published in Vietnamese under the title Nhật ký Đặng Thùy Trâm (Đặng Thùy Trâm's Diary), quickly becoming a bestseller. In less than a year, the volume sold more than 300,000 copies and comparisons were drawn between Trâm's writing and that of Anne Frank.In August 2005, Fred and Robert Whitehurst traveled to Hanoi, Vietnam, to meet Trâm's family. In early October of the same year, the family traveled to Lubbock, Texas, to view the diaries, which are archived at Texas Tech University's Vietnam Archive, then visited Fred Whitehurst and his family in his home state of North Carolina.The diaries have been translated into English and the English version was published in September 2007. Published translations into other languages (including Korean) are forthcoming.In 2009 a film about Tram by Vietnamese director Đặng Nhật Minh, entitled Đừng Đốt (Do Not Burn), was released.(From Wikipedia.)ATTENTIONThe following document is copyright protected and is the joint property of Madame Doan Ngoc Tram, Frederic Whitehurst, and the Vietnam Archive at Texas Tech University. This electronic version is provided as a public service via the Virtual Vietnam Archive under the "fair use" stipulations of Section 107 of the US Copyright Act of 1976. The attached materials can be used for educational and other noncommercial purposes only. THIS DOCUMENT CAN NOT BE REPUBLISHED OR RETRANSMITTED IN ANY FORMAT, MEDIUM, OR LANGUAGE, IN WHOLE OR IN PART, WITHOUT THE EXPRESSED PERMISSION OF THE COPYRIGHT HOLDERS LISTED ABOVE. These materials may not to be used for resale or commercial purposes without authorization from the above listed copyright holders.Submit questions or inquiries about this document to the Vietnam Archive — 806-742-9010.

Thuy Tram Dang

Биографии и Мемуары / Проза о войне18+

<p>Dang Thuy Tram’s Dairies<a l:href="#n_1" type="note">[1]</a></p><p>Book One</p>

Happiness and sadness fill my heart in these days bright with fire.

Life is a person’s most precious thing. We only live once. How can we live so as not to regret wasting the months and years, so as not to be ashamed that we have wasted the months and years, so that when our eyes close and our hand falls, we can say “All our life, all our strength, we have offered to the highest and most beautiful career in the world, the struggle to liberate our people”.

N.A. Ostrovsky

One must go through big storms in life, but one must never bend his head in the face of the storms.

April 8, 1968. Had to do an appendix operation without enough medicine. Only a few tubes of Novocain, but the wounded young soldier never cried out or yelled. He continued to smile so to encourage me. Looking at the forced smile on his dry lips, knowing his fatigue, I felt so sorry for him. Very bad because his stomach is infected, but not from a burst appendix. I searched for an hour but couldn’t find the cause, so I closed him up and restored circulation, using antiseptic in his abdomen. My concern and the admiration of this wounded soldier make me uneasy. I lightly stroked his hair. I would like to say to him, “Patients like you who I cannot cure cause me the most sorrow, and their memory will not fade from my medical career”.

April 10, 1968. That is finished. This afternoon all the soldiers went on their way and left everyone with an empty feeling in the wild and quiet forest. All of them left but their shadows were still here on all the roads, in all the chairs in the clinic, and in all those beautiful love poems. I heard Tuan order “All Packs go”. Their packs were not well made from the American bags, but sat very neat on their shoulders. Everyone stood in front of me to shake my hand once again and to say good-bye.

Suddenly a strange recollection went through my mind, of those long raining days on the river, and I cried so that I could not even say good-bye to everyone. Well, you go and I hope to see you again in the beloved North.

All day and night I worried about the operation on Sang. This afternoon I felt very happy to see Sang sitting up; his face looked tired and hurt, but a forced smile was still on his lips. His hand softly held my hand with affection and belief. Oh! This wounded young soldier, so very courageous! I care for you with a wild and deep love: the love of a medical doctor for her patient, the love of an elder sister for her young sick brother (though Sang is the same age as I am), and this love is more special than others because it includes my admiration. Can you see that in my worried look? Do you feel my soft touch on your pale, wounded, skinny hand? I hope that you soon get well in order to return to fight… meanwhile your old mother waits for you minute by minute.

April 12, 1968. Afternoon in the forest after the rain. All the trees’ green leaves in the sunlight, shining and pale, look like the hands of a girl who shuts herself in her room.

The air is so sad and quiet. The patients’ area is so quiet. In the officers’ area one can only hear Houng whispering in conversation with someone. I get the feeling that I am missing someone. Who do I miss? My parents, the people who just left, and also a patient who is waiting for me to come to him. Inside the feeling of missing there is something very sad, quiet, and heavy. Anyway whatever the wound in my heart is, it still bleeds: even though I want to work and try to find something else to staunch it, it’s still open and hurts a lot. Forget about it! Please forget about it and find another hope better than that one. Please use pride in order to forget disappointment. That person is not worth my pure and true love. Oh! Of all the people I love in Duc Pho, can anyone here understand all of my heart? A girl’s heart full of hopes and dreams, but unable to find a worthy answer!

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