'Grandpa, the flame is out on the gas cooker because the water overflowed,' his granddaughter cried out from the kitchen.

His former company recently gave him a computer to search for stories about his deceased comrades-in-arms. His regiment had lost nine hundred and sixty-eight men out of the nearly two thousand total between March 1972 and May 1975 in the midst of the crucial war. Such a tragic figure! His goal was to find a way for the remaining members to share their stories.

***

'Did you have enough to eat before going to school, my dear? It's high time you left. Check your bags carefully to be sure you haven't forgotten anything,' the old man suggested.

'Why do you always remind me of that?'

'Because you might overlook what I tell you. You should only carry what you need for today's subjects, that's all. Otherwise, how would you be able to carry everything at once? Your books must weigh dozens of kilograms when all together!'

'You're always saying the same thing! I'm in fourth grade and stay in school for the whole day. How could I return home if I forgot something?' She laughed happily after arguing successfully.

Hong felt lucky to have learnt a bit of computer skills at his old age. All day long he was clued in to his computer to read new stories as they were posted. His former regiment's Liaison Board of Veterans sent frequent messages to all of its living members providing details about their deceased comrades in arms.

His wife, a retired general practitioner, was always on him to check on the price of gold on the web. She must have been anxious about the safety of her several taels of this precious metal. 'Let's sell a few to cover my long-desired trip to the Southern zone to pay homage to the graves of our martyrs and to thank those who protected me during the round-ups of the hostile forces,' he suggested.

Unable to carry out his wish due to his wife's thrift, he began writing about his wartime memories.

***

I was enlisted at the end of 1967 at the age of eighteen. After three months' military training in a forest in Hoa Binh Province, my unit went to the Southern front. All battlefield units were very busy preparing intensively for the General Offensive and the Tet Uprising in the year 1968. Upon reaching Quang Tri Province, we were told that we would engage in fighting in the area around Khe Sanh. Some of us were very pleased because the battleground was near the Northern Zone and might afford the opportunity of a fairly easy visit to northern hometowns. As for me, I wanted to go deep into the Cuu Long (Mekong) Delta. Three months later, in mid-June of 1968, our unit replenished the Regiment that had just left the front in Kon Tum Town to return to the rear for additional training. Our job was to help prepare for the second stage of the General Offensive. By then I was despatched to Company 7 of Battalion 5.

Trung, my former secondary school classmate, and I were assigned to the same squad. I continued to study after finishing seventh grade while Trung joined the Commune People's Committee as a junior official. He was the deputy head of my squad. In our small unit, Hoa, who was from Hai Duong Province said to me, pointing at Trung, 'How important he is as a commune official!' Trung was an elite soldier and I greatly admired him and was happy to be an assistant under his command.

I was not allowed to join Hoa in our maiden combat mission. Our Regiment was divided into two parts, with one concentrated on the Kon Tum-Pleiku section of Highway 14 and the other on an American battalion in Mun village. Our fight finally came off with flying colours: the entire enemy battalion was wiped out including numerous armoured cars and tanks. After the mission, enemy traffic on Highway 14 was blocked for three days straight. Meanwhile, my company lay in ambush for them all day long in the heavy rain; our uniforms were all stained with red mud. When our munitions and food had nearly run out, we were counter-attacked. American troops blocked all the ways in to Chu Pah townlet and their military vehicles rumbled into the centre of Pleiku. Our regiment was ordered to retreat, except for my company which had to stay behind to intercept the enemy's advance before carrying out under-ground activities.

One morning, finding me weary, Trung did his best to encourage me: 'Try your best, my dear. After breakfast I'll tell the nurse to give you some medicine.' I felt feverish at midday after finishing a ball of cooked rice.

After a bombardment by the flying B-52 fortresses, my fellow fighters found me shivering under a blanket on a bamboo plank, near a thicket. They took me to our base.

'You know how to use B-40 guns, don't you?' the company's deputy head, together with Thu, asked me when they visited me in bed.

'Yes, Sir, but just a bit,' I answered.

'Leave your haversack with comrade Thu, then follow me,' he ordered.

***

As I crawled through thick bush, a soldier darted out then embraced me tightly. 'Good luck in your maiden fight, my dear!' he whispered to me. It was Luong, my friend from home. He grabbed on to the shirt of the company's deputy head.

'Take me as well, Sir,' he entreated.

'No, please get back to your position immediately', he ordered.

I was presented to the company's head and the political instructor along with three other young men. We were entrusted with blocking the enemy tanks that were rumbling towards our land force regiment. My squad rushed in on the enemy as it was on the move first while my company was lying in ambush and supporting us from the rear to allow our regiment the chance to withdraw across the Nuoc Ai stream and return to the rear safe and sound.

After observing the terrain for a while, my company's deputy head pulled me aside.

'Do you see that large puddle of rain water over there?' he asked me.

'Yes, Sir!' I replied.

'How far away is it?'

'About fifty metres away, Sir.'

'Can you fire at the enemy from this distance?'

'Yes, of course, Sir.'

'When the first enemy tank crawls to the edge of the puddle, shoot at it immediately,' he told me.

'Yes, Sir.'

'Do your best, my dear.'

All of a sudden, the company's deputy head clapped me on the back.

'Here comes the first enemy tank. Get ready to fire,' he ordered.

I stood up, flustered. While enemy helicopters were hovering over my head, several tanks rumbled towards me. Aiming at the first one, I pulled the trigger. 'Bang,' went my howitzer. Enemy artillery fire pounded violently in front of me. I felt a sudden pain my right shoulder. I ran downhill as quickly as possible until I felt fairly safe. I leaned against a tree to relax. A few minutes later, I started to move.

'Am I going the right way?' I asked myself…

***

'Oh dear, Hong's back, comrades,' shouted the guard. Luckily, I met my unit again. Luong was the first to dart towards me. He hugged me tightly.

'I thought that you'd died in action because I only heard you take one shot,' he said to me in a voice full of emotion.

'Luong cried his heart out for you,' somebody revealed.

'Good Heavens! Hong is wounded and his shirt is drenched with blood. Please, send for the nurse quickly, anybody,' Luong urged.

'What about our company's deputy head? Has he come back? Where are my two squad leaders?'

'Rest easy, dear comrade Hong,' said our political instructor. 'You've proved to be very brave. You've managed to stop the enemy's advance,' he added.

'Esteemed officer, please let me keep this B-40 gun. I want to pound on enemy tanks as well. I'm sure I can do it successfully, Sir,' Luong rushed in. At last his demand was met. That night I was taken to the regiment field hospital. Trung, who was also wounded, was with me. The company's male nurse told me that while we were destroying tanks deep in the South, Trung, M-79 in hand, had accidentally shot at a huge tree branch which fell on him and lodged a piece of shrapnel in his neck.

'Shooting at tanks! That way was very brave! Anyhow, it's good luck that you've come back,' Trung went on.

* * *

When my wound healed I returned to my unit. After a period of retraining, I joined a new campaign and participated in many critical battles. I was on different battlefields from upstream of the Po Ko River to Mount Chu Pa. After ten days' fighting I was wounded once again due to B-57 bombers. I had already been awarded the Exploit Medal, 3rd Class, thanks to a single shot from my B-40 howitzer. Luong had obtained many more. Later, Nguyen Hoan, the company's head, told me about numerous engagements at Chu Pah that he had taken part in.

A few weeks later, I was dispatched back to the rear to help injured soldiers. While I was packing my belongings, a newly-wounded fighter was brought in on a stretcher. It was Hoa from Hai Duong Province. Unfortunately, the wound in his thigh was so serious that it needed to be amputated. I held his hand tightly and did my best to comfort him.

'Luong died in action when a huge rock fell on him. He'll lie at the foot of Mount Chu Pah forever,' he said to me in a low voice. Two days after his amputation, Hoa regained consciousness. When he knew that his leg had been removed, he shouted out, 'Damn it! How can I go on fighting?'

I did not dare to say anything, but stared at him and wept bitterly.

***

'Grannie, when I read Grandpa's accounts, I saw that he had omitted the names of several of his comrades-in-arms,' said his granddaughter.

'How do you dare to read them? Reading other people's memories is a wicked habit. Don't do it again. Anyway, he's too old to remember everything,' she reprimanded her grandchild.

'But Grannie, his notebook isn't a diary at all,' replied the little schoolgirl.

'Whatever, it is a private matter we have to hold dear,' she advised.

'Grandpa, please forgive me. You're very sad because you're unable to remember the names of your friends from combat, aren't you? Why don't you give them all a common title, such as fellow fighter?' she asked.

'To be honest, how can I remember their names when I didn't really know them at all? When writing my memories, I can't just give them a casual name. I don't dare to hurt their souls,' replied the old man.

Sitting down at the desk, he began clicking the words of fellow fighters on the keyboard.

By Nguyen Trong Hung

Translated by Van Minh