Lung Cu Flagpole

The Veterans Association of the University, as someone once said, is shrinking year by year. The membership dwindles, and the trips to the "roots" in recent years have barely filled a single vehicle. Yet today, July 7th, 2017, there was a sudden surge: a magnificent convoy of two vehicles. Why the enthusiastic response and large turnout? Initially, I thought it might be due to Professor Dr. Nguyen Van Kim's participation this year. The presence of the esteemed Party Secretary could boost the enthusiasm and confidence of the Association. Having a member of the Board of Directors accompany them is a guarantee of organization and the understanding of the university leadership. A second reason could be that this year's trip is a "northern expedition" aimed at conquering a peak that is becoming legendary: the Lung Cu flagpole on the border? The enthusiasm and energy of the delegation could be a combination of both reasons. However, the second reason is the more profound one. The first reason acted as a direct stimulus.

Setting off (photo by Pham Cong Nhat)

Crossing the mountain pass (photo by Pham Cong Nhat)

The group had a plan in place since the beginning of last month:5:00 AM, July 7th:The car has departed.Ha Giang...having breakfast on the way.10:00 AM:ArriveVi Xuyen Cemetery- In Ha Giang, we offered incense to commemorate the martyrs… then continued our journey to Yen Minh;07:00the 8th:Traveling to the Dong Van Stone Plateau takes you through four districts: Quan Ba, Yen Minh, Dong Van, and Meo Vac.,...taking photos in the buckwheat flower fields...visiting the mansion of the Mong King Chi Sinh...Continuing the journeyLung Cu -Visit the Lung Cu Flagpole.AfternoonReturn to Dong Van town;06:00July 9th:Check out of the hotel…return to Hanoi.

Everyone hopes for a trip that truly follows the proper procedure. And the first procedure, which cannot be skipped, is undoubtedly "asking the wife's permission." It might be a pretense of inviting the wife along, then threatening her with danger and treacherous mountain passes, leaving her at home while quickly setting off with comrades, hoping to gain a few days of freedom. Or perhaps using some excuse, promising a gift, so that at 4 a.m., the veteran and his wife can easily say goodbye.

Reviewing the first stage of the process, everyone noticed that the group included two wives. The group concluded that these were the two most "henpecked" veterans. They were Associate Professor Vu Ngoc Loan, a sailor (who couldn't swim) on the famous, unmarked ships of the anti-American war. The second was musician and teacher Pham Tuan Khoa, from the Vietnamese Language Department, a singer in the former Liberation Army's performing arts troupe… Chairman Tran Van Hai whispered to a few people: "I feel sorry for these two gentlemen; they can't escape their wives wherever they go." But the chairman's whisper was overheard, and immediately someone countered: "Perhaps they are making a diversion, setting their sights on other, silent battlefields?" On the bus, everyone commented in their own way, creating a lively and cheerful atmosphere at the opening ceremony and departure…

We set off to return to our roots.

The phrase "returning to the source" has long been frequently used in group tours. The meaning of "source" here is expanding and broadening every day. How many "sources" does the country have, from Hung Temple, Pac Po Cave, Viet Bac War Zone to Hien Luong Bridge…? Today, the phrase "returning to the source" is used more freely and flexibly. "Source" is gradually expanding to revolutionary landmarks, cultural and historical relics, glittering here and there on the national map. Like hundreds of streams and thousands of rivers flowing into the great sea, the source for domestic tourists in Vietnam today is not just the ancestral land, the ancient capital, the war zone, the battlefield… but all the historical countryside, all the places we cherish and love. This year's source for our school's Veterans group is the Lung Cu Flagpole, the northernmost point of the Fatherland. The Lung Cu source is understood to mean: the Fatherland begins there.

The Homeland and Us (photo by Pham Cong Nhat)

After just a few hours of traveling on the highway, we encountered the Lo River. It was the rainy season, and the river's water was murky and swirling fiercely. When composer Van Cao wrote the epic poem "The Lo River" years ago, he probably couldn't have imagined that this not-so-peaceful river would once again bear witness to a war to defend the country. From 1984 to 1989, the eastern part of the Lo River was repeatedly littered with the corpses of enemy soldiers.

Following our planned route, the first stop for the delegation was the Vi Xuyen Martyrs' Cemetery. As if empathizing with the delegation's sorrow, it suddenly started to rain. We put on our coats, used umbrellas, and trudged through the rain, placing dozens of incense sticks at each grave. We knew that in just a few seconds the incense would go out, and a few minutes later, after we left, the cemetery would return to its cold, silent state. However, we still hoped that the 1700 young men – the eternal owners of this cemetery – would feel the warm scent of incense and hear the light footsteps of our old soldiers. The people of Vi Xuyen and the soldiers of the Viet Bac Military Region observe July 12th each year as the "Commemoration Day." This is because in 1984, that was the day of the bloody battle in which many of our army units fought against the overwhelming attack of the Chinese army. The Vi Xuyen front alone claimed the lives of 4000 martyrs. This cemetery has only collected less than half of their remains. Where are the rest of you buried? Among the rows of graves, we recognized many martyrs who died in their 40s and 50s. Perhaps they were officers and commanders at the battalion and regiment levels. They sacrificed themselves alongside their young soldiers. If, after the war against America, they had requested demobilization or transferred to other professions like us, they would surely have received their retirement papers and be present in some group visiting today! Stepping out of the cemetery, our hearts were heavy. We felt guilty towards those who had passed away. After the war against America, like many others, we fell into a misconception. Everyone believed that fighting America was the last war.

Dong Van Martyrs' Cemetery (photo by Nguyen Van Thuy)

This year's convoy of the Association returning to the roots still included representatives from each battlefield, each branch of the military, and each stage of the war's history. Among them were soldiers from the Southeast Front like Vu Thanh Tung, the Laotian Front like Dinh Xuan Ly, Nguyen Chi Hoa, Duong Xuan Son, Ngo Van Hoan, the Quang Tri Front like Nguyen Huu Thu, Bui Duy Dan, Pham Thanh Hung, the Cambodian Front like Bui Xuan Quang, Nguyen Long, and the Northern Border Front like Nguyen Thanh Binh, Pham Cong Nhat, Nguyen Vu Hao, Tran Xuan Hong, Nguyen Dinh Thanh, Pham Dinh Lan. These "young" veterans from the northern border shared with us insights into the 1979 war against the Chinese invaders. The image of the invading soldiers struggling in the Ka Long River (secretly installed by self-defense workers of the Lang Son power plant to control high-voltage electricity in the water, awaiting reinforcements from our main forces from the South) evoked the image of Dong Da Hill in Thang Long, where the Qing invaders were driven out years ago. The story of Trinh Xuan Hong about chemical artillery shells.Make in AmericaThe sight of the Long Binh ammunition depot killing the enemy soldiers, leaving them motionless like statues, helped us understand the hardships and ferocity of the war to stop the enemy. The intention of "teaching Vietnam a lesson," and "taking Hanoi in 5 days" had completely failed.

Comrades Dinh Xuan Ly, Tran Thuc Viet, and the self-defense platoon leader Truong - Nguyen Van Thuy, who had worked in cultural activities in the highlands for many years, along with the veteran poet Mai Lieu of the missile corps, all remembered the story of our soldiers holding their outposts from 1984-1989. The story goes that in Vi Xuyen, there was a time when hundreds of "forest people" appeared, with shoulder-length hair and bushy beards. Few knew that these were our special forces soldiers who had to live in caves and deep forests, holding their outposts for three or four years straight. The story goes that on some days, Chinese soldiers occupied the outpost in the caves above, while our soldiers held the caves below. Anyone who poked their head out of the cave entrance was instantly shot dead. After a long period of fighting and holding out, the Chinese soldiers, realizing that their opponents below had been cut off from supplies and were starving, dropped canned meat down into the caves below as a gift to the Vietnamese soldiers. Without offering any thanks, our soldiers sat and polished aluminum rings, tied them to the end of sticks, and presented them as gifts… The rambling story evoked in us the paradoxes of history, reminding us of Nguyen Duy's poems:

 Ironically, Friendship Gate

If only blood hadn't stained the mountain pass.

AQ grabbed Chi Pheo's hair.

Let the two poor soldiers both lose.

At 10 a.m. on July 8th, we were nearing our "meeting point." Inside the car, many people stood up, looking out the windows and pointing. From afar, the Lung Cu flag blazed in our eyes like a red flame. As we climbed to the top of the hill, reaching the base of the flagpole, Secretary Nguyen Van Kim and comrades Duong Xuan Son and Pham Dinh Lan were all moved to tears. The flag, sewn to a perfect 60x90 ratio of 54 square meters, symbolized the 54 ethnic groups of the entire Great Viet community. At an altitude of 1700 meters above sea level, the flag fluttered in the border wind. The Hien Luong flag of yesteryear, made of heavy fabric weighing nearly twenty kilograms, easily torn, had to be mended and re-hung thanks to the legendary hands of Mother Nguyen Thi Diem, who had stayed by the river for many years, diligently mending and re-hanging it. In these years of the 21st century, our Lung Cu flag is more durable and lighter, being made of nylon fabric, but hearing the sound of the flag still evokes a sense of weight, imbued with the sacred spirit of the nation. The Lung Cu flagpole is not identical to the border marker. More than a kilometer away from the base of the flagpole, we still have nearly a hundred families in the Lo Lo Chai village. The S-shaped landmass of our country inspires the imagination of many foreign poets of "a slender homeland, with a wasp waist and a conical hat on its head." The northernmost point of this conical hat is the Lung Cu region.

Regarding the meaning of the place name "Lũng Cú," we have several theories. One theory suggests that Lũng Cú is a phonetic variation of "Long Cổ," meaning "the king's drum." Legend says that after repelling the Qing army, King Quang Trung ordered a bronze drum to be placed at this border outpost, replacing the ceremonial drum that had existed since the Lý dynasty. The king commanded that the bronze drum be struck every hour to signal peace and border sovereignty. The name Long Cổ thus came about. Another theory suggests that Lũng Cú originates from the word "Long Cư," meaning "the place where dragons reside." The simplest explanation, in the language of the Lô Lô people, is that Lũng Cú means "corn-growing valley." The first two interpretations are inspired by historical legends. We prefer the third interpretation, one that embodies a yearning for peace and harmony with nature. However, perhaps due to the border conflicts and wars of the past few decades, the first interpretation is emerging as the mainstream view, reflecting a persistent awareness of territorial sovereignty. Therefore, the base of the Lung Cu flagpole today is adorned with many majestic bronze drum reliefs.

We climbed to the top of the flagpole. At its base were rolling, verdant hills. Less than a kilometer away, beyond those green mountains, lay Chinese territory. How many remains of fallen soldiers were there yet to be recovered? Quang Dung's poem echoed in our hearts: "Scattered across the border are distant graves / Their souls return to Sam Nua, not southward."

On July 9th, on our way back to Hanoi, our convoy was blocked by a pine tree that suddenly uprooted and fell, cutting our "Journey to the Source" convoy in two. Perhaps the 14-seater vehicle had only traveled a few dozen meters when the tree fell behind us. Those inside didn't notice. We, sitting in the back vehicle, were stopped by the tree and had to get out, waiting for local drivers behind us to call for help and find a way to resolve the situation. Pham Cong Nhat and Vu Thanh Tung pitched in to chop down the tree, preparing to use a winch to pull it up… The single-lane road named "Happiness" seemed longer than usual. The border seemed to stretch out, vast and boundless, making us think of the term "border fence."

We call the "borderland" the northern border region of our country, implying that it is a distant shield protecting the capital and the territorial center. However, upon reflection, the term "borderland" carries a deeper geopolitical meaning. Many European countries and US presidents have advocated building solid fences along their borders, definitively dividing their territories. Vietnam cannot do this. Our border is too long, vast, and treacherous. Furthermore, there's a folk saying, "Lovers build a strong fence." Our ancestors advocated that the Vietnam-China border should remain a small, neighboring fence, a symbolic barrier. But how can a fence stop robbers? Therefore, the best border against a "malicious neighbor" is one built with the will and loyalty of the people.

King Le Thanh Tong once issued an edict, reminding officials in border regions and envoys traveling to China:"How could we casually abandon even an inch of our mountains and rivers?... If anyone dares to give even an inch of land left by King Thai To as bait to the enemy, their crime will be punishable by extermination.". (Complete Chronicle of Dai Viet)."

…We ascended to the summit of Ma Pi Leng Pass – a mountain pass at an altitude of 1200 meters, winding and curving for 20 kilometers, the result of 2 million man-days of labor over 6 long years, from 1959 to 1965, at the cost of 15 young volunteer soldiers who sacrificed their lives due to bandit attacks and falls while hanging all day to chisel away at the rocks. Ma Pi Leng, in Mandarin, means…horse nose, evoking the image of a steep mountain pass. A veteran in the group told us a story: Once, while on a work trip at night, his UW truck's brakes failed, and it crashed into a rocky embankment by the roadside. One wheel flew off and fell into the valley. Shortly afterward, his colleagues went to search for the wheel. After searching for a long time without success, they went to a Hmong village to investigate. The villagers said that, indeed, about a month earlier, the elderly had heard a roaring sound from above at night, but they waited and waited without hearing any explosion. Perhaps it was the wheel that flew away… Feeling sorry for the government vehicle that had lost its wheel, the villagers split up to search, but after two days of searching, they couldn't find it. It wasn't until the next farming season, when they burned the forest, that they found the wheel burning and sizzling in a rocky crevice…

Gate of the Mong King Chi Sinh's mansion (photo by Nguyen Van Thuy)

Conquering the Quang Ba Sky Gate (photo by Nguyen Van Thuy)

Ma Pi Leng Pass summit (Photo by Nguyen Van Thuy)

From the cloud-covered peak of Ma Pi Leng, we could still see the Nho Que River flowing downstream from the north, looking down from above like a crack in the geological strata. Suddenly, someone at the back of the car, I heard what sounded like Nguyen Van Thuy's voice: "Every ten hours, upstream, we have to check the toxins in the Nho Que River once. ... Just over twenty kilometers from the border, China is building a nuclear power plant..."

The car continued to drive cautiously and diligently through the fog. We were moving further away from the Lung Cu flagpole in Dong Van. Though we were leaving Dong Van, our hearts were not at peace. The conversation in the car was still one of gnawing worry about losing land, forests, and clean water sources. The Lung Cu flag was getting smaller behind us. But in our restless, drowsy sleep in the car, our group of veterans from the Faculty of Humanities still saw the Lung Cu flag burning brightly in our dreams. The flag fluttered in the wind like a flame, like a drop of boiling blood.

So, on the way back to the capital...Each of us has built our own national flag within our hearts.