Dang Thuy Tram’s Dairies

Late at night, after the farewell party, Ky came to my room. We did not know what to say: the notebook in front of our faces, the pen in our hands, but all the words meant nothing. Just a little time left and he needed to write those important things. But why didn’t he do it? Did he want to tell me by his red eyes or by the sad smile on his slender face of the many nights he couldn’t sleep? He held me in his thin arms, an action very normal to him…but today I felt excited. He left at noon. After sending him to the river side I felt out of sorts when I returned to find a paper that he sent to Lien. In a few short lines he said “You and Tram have to care for each other truly. She came here by herself. She is far away from home and has only friends…” My dear brother Ky! Thank you very much. I will never forget your care for me!

This last time lying arm in arm with Phoung, listening quietly to her talk, warm tears ran down my face and dropped to her face. My dear friend! Even today I am still not a member of the Party: how sad that is!

April 22, 1968. Huong! Are you really dead? I heard the news and it seemed like a nightmare. When will all these sorrows end? Today one person falls, tomorrow another falls. The blood and bones pile up like mountains! Hatred and indignation are still in front of our eyes. When! When and when my comrades? When will we chase away all the pirates who drink the peoples’ blood but don’t smell the stench in our country?

All finished, all those long nights we whispered to each other will never happen again. My ears still hear clearly Huong’s low voice filled with sentiment. Huong always encouraged me, praised me, praised my true love. Now everything is finished: all those times we bathed together in the canal, ate sweet pea desert out of one bowl. I suddenly remember the day I met Huong on a military operation beside the river. She held me and kissed my hair and my cheeks, and we almost cried.

Look at Uncle Cong: he still does not know anything about this terrible news which makes me hurt as if someone put salt in my stomach. To lose a daughter like Huong seems harder that to lose part of your intestines. My dear uncle, please bear up: when you and Quang know this bad news… Quang, the boy who has waited for her, so true to her for so many years: his dreams will never come true. Your Huong has laid down in your homeland forever.

April 23, 1968. A very tired day. Three seriously wounded people came in at the same time. All day I stood at the operating table. My head is tense because of the wounded, because of Uncle Cong’s (Huong’s Father) cries, and because of continuing, constant sadness.

Duong was captured by the enemy on his way to serve. I don’t know how this lively, warmhearted boy can stand up to interrogation. I feel so sorry for Duong. The letter I wrote Duong will not come to him. The person carrying the letter has died, and the person who was to receive the letter has been captured. The voice from a sad song comes to my ears: “Mother’s heart is wide, large like the Pacific Ocean. The voice of the song is sweet like water flowing in the canal.” Is this the voice of Duong’s song from before, or his lamentations when he was still in prison thinking about his old mother who all her life worked for him, placing all her hope for happiness in her lovely son?

There are many mothers like Duong’s mother who will know sorrow, and who will cry until their tears are finished. Oh, if I fall dead, my mother will be the same as them, the same as any mother sacrificing her life for her children, who will then grieve always because her child died in the war. Dear Mother! What can I say to you when you have loved me so much but then I had to leave you and go far away? The enemy is still there. Still, how many mothers will lose their sons, how many husbands will lose their wives… how sad it is!

April 25, 1968. More sad news: on the way back from school in the province, the group of cadre from Duc Pho was attached by the enemy. Heard that a number of people were killed. Nghia, my young friend, was in that number. Don’t know what happened to him. He was courageous, with enough ability to become a leader. Dear Nghia, if anything has happened to you, then what can I say to you now? I will cry alone all the calm and quiet nights: my tears will dry and become a revengeful flame burning in my heart! I hope that in a few days you will instead come back and see me.