Dang Thuy Tram’s Dairies

May 6, 1968. Many headaches every day. I already said that you cannot ask for good people to be everywhere. I decided already that life must go through storms, but that one must not bow in the face of the storms. But really the storm that comes to me is the one that comes at summer’s end, very light and slow. Be happy; be happy with the loving smiles that the patients give me. Be happy that many people in the village and province give me their love. That is enough, my dear Thuy: don’t ask for more. The Party? The Party will understand me. Around me are more people who love me than people who hate me. The hate? That is just jealousy, that’s all.

May 9, 1968. When we live in the world we must know how to be modest, but there must be confidence in ourselves, and independence. If you are right, then you can be proud. If your mind is clear, that is the most precious of medicines. You must understand that and take that as the basis for self confidence. Why do I still think about it over and over when I know that what I do is right? Life is not only feeling, but life needs reason. Do you understand this Miss Stubborn Girl?

May 13, 1968. The Conference* in Paris is just opening. Here are the days of May, 1954* again. I am very anxious to follow the news. I know for sure that victory at the meeting must come from victory on the battlefield. Therefore prepare the spirit to increase the pace of fighting, to at last see who will live and who will die. Whether you live or die, it will still be happy when peace returns to our country again. Over 20 years already, the sorrow, smoke and fire still cover our gentle land. The tears, blood and bones given already have never mattered next to gaining independence and freedom.

May 14, 1968. A line of words noted on the table: “My dear Tram that I love” in Sang’s handwriting. A very simple sentence but it makes me sad. Day by day my regard for Sang is deeper. Once I had a conversation with Sang, like siblings fighting (I am like his elder sister, but younger than him), because we talked about who would die first if we must die. I said let him live because he had never had a good life and because he is the only son of his widowed mother. She has been a widow since she was 21, but Sang wants me to live because he said that I must return to my mother, brother, and sister in the North… because they wait for me. That’s nonsense, only conversation, but we feel that we really care for each other. I want to treat Sang like a really good friend but I worry people will misunderstand. Sang is 13 years older than me, married, and has a 5 year old child.

May 17, 1968. The war continues and death still happens everyday, every minute, every second as easily as turning over your hand. Just last night Thin and Son were still with us. Thin told Le to buy material to make clothing, but today both of them are corpses lying in Duc Pho, the first place they stopped here. Dying is too easy; there is no way to prevent the losses. Very sad.

Lien said something that is right. “Be true to each other when alive: if not then you will regret it when your friends die. When your friends die you will think that you didn’t take care of each other”. For myself, I will do it, but really I always treat people very nice. I care for them with an all-encompassing true love. I always approach all the patients in the clinic with responsibility and with deep affection, so even though we are strangers they feel very close to the doctor who cares for them. They call me “second sister” and they call themselves “younger brother” in spite of being older than I am, but are still happy to tease me. During these days of hardship, I still find happiness and consolation from them. As for my personal life: please don’t think about that any more; I push away the clouds on the horizon, and don’t let them become a storm in my mind.

May 20, 1968. Said good-bye to all the wounded soldiers returning to combat. We all should be very happy, but both the people going and the people remaining are all very sad.

More than a month these soldiers stayed in the hospital. Their feelings for me are not only the feelings of affection between a physician and a patient, but we are like good friends. Today they all left. Do all of you remember those long nights we had conversations with each other when I had night duty? Do you remember all the days organizing to carry rice, joining me to make decisions about the treatment of wounds? It seems you are specialists at these jobs. At night you cleaned the equipment under the weak light of an oil lamp. How happy all those days were! When will we meet each other again, and when will we be able to meet again?