Battle at Tri Buu Church

As a rule, life has many memories, but the most memorable and unforgettable memories are still those of the difficult years, one life two deaths, the arrows and arrows are brave, the grass is green and the chest is red, the journey is never coming back... Memories of a time in the army, when my youth was still bewildered, taking my first steps into school, listening to the call of the sacred spirit of the mountains and rivers, I innocently volunteered to join the army like many friends of the same age. Joining the army, entering the Quang Tri battlefield, 81 days and nights of fire at the Ancient Citadel, I did not participate fully because I was injured early (July 18, 1972) but the memory of a battle is still fresh in my mind for the past 35 years - that was the battle at Tri Buu church, a difficult, difficult-to-reach lair, with the most bloodshed and sacrifice behind the banks of the Thach Han river.

It would be wrong to recall the battle without thanking Viettel a thousand times, the unit that sponsored the entire cost of the magnificent trip “A time of fire and flowers”. Viettel gave us an opportunity to revisit the old battlefield that we thought we would never be able to do until the day we passed away. The trip was filled with happy and sad memories, meeting comrades who had been “lost in the dust” for the past 35 years. Now each person has a different fate, each position. We shook hands and happily told each other about each battle, each life of the unfortunate fates and finally put together a great epic written with blood and tears. Joyfully, nostalgically recalling old scenes and stories was the common mood of all of us. As a sign of “Heavenly time, favorable terrain, and harmony of people”, that night the Ancient God poured rain, the barren, fierce land of the past welcomed us back with our comrades in the mood of “Life sheds tears, the sky sheds rain”, We cried, the sky and earth also cried, tears mixed with the rainwater to bathe and water our comrades, seeping into the ground where my comrades rested for eternity.

From Dong Ha, Viettel vehicles marched into the villages, crossed Quang Tri bridge, and Thach Han, taking us to Quang Tri Citadel. The destination of the Citadel now seemed so spacious and convenient. Sitting on the vehicle, we wanted the vehicle to slow down to reflect, to listen to the marching footsteps, to imagine the chases of the enemy in the past. But what would come would come, the Citadel appeared before our eyes, leaving behind so many memories that we had not yet had time to imagine. Getting off the vehicle, I and the veterans of Company 10, Bang, Diep, Luy, Hung, Duc... spread out and rushed to Tri Buu church to see with our own eyes the place where the fierce battle took place in the past.

Tri Buu Church today

The Phu Ly - Ha Nam veterans came to Tri Buu with different feelings, the saddest was Hung whose younger brother died there (his grave has not been found yet). He lit incense, cried with difficulty, and prayed for his younger brother's soul vaguely in despair. As for me, before, Tri Buu was a vague image, because in 1972, we took shelter during the day and went into battle at night, the trees were bare, bricks and stones were scattered, both our and the enemy's Citadel were mixed, how could I remember? Now, having the opportunity to go during the day, combined with the old memories flooding back, gave me a panoramic picture of Tri Buu. Tri Buu today is beautiful, peaceful, a symbol of the blending of religion and life. Around Tri Buu, the village is crowded, covered with green trees, the road is still there, nameless but it is a very empty obstacle that we have to overcome to approach the church. In July 1972, Tri Buu church existed as a challenge between us and the enemy. In the church, there are puppets and people. To destroy puppets is to destroy people. To fight for the people, how could we do that? With many approaches, to disperse the people, to save blood, the enemy still did not listen, they stubbornly defended to the end. Many times, the units assigned to attack the church encountered fierce resistance from the enemy. We and the enemy suffered many casualties. Every time we fought like that, when we withdrew, we gathered the remaining soldiers to join the battle, regardless of which unit they were from. The fighting and voluntary sacrifice were the source of strengthening the spirit of the soldiers. Sometimes, sometimes we did not know who our commander was because they had all sacrificed and been wounded.

On the evening of July 18, 1972, the order came from above, the 9th battalion charged into battle. Night fell, my comrades and I entered the battle like many previous battles, the spearheads and directions were ready. We, the soldiers, were ordered by our superiors to go and go, told to fight, the whole company was concentrated, perhaps more than a platoon. I followed the spearhead led by deputy battalion commander Kieu Ngoc Luan. After a while of approaching, the target resisted fiercely. Flares and planes were flying overhead, and on the ground, bullets, mortars, and long-range artillery were raining down. Our spearhead ran into a machine gun nest from the second floor window of the church, burning our faces, and we could not move forward. We temporarily took shelter in a small, deep bomb crater, waiting for orders from our superiors, waiting between life and death at a hair's breadth, thinking back was terrifying! That night, I was assigned to shoot the B40 (at that time, if you held firepower on the battlefield, you would surely die), the target was to aim at the window on the second floor where the machine gun was. I bent down, adjusted the target and pulled the trigger. The B40 bullet flew away, leaving behind a bright light and smoke. After shooting, I jumped into the trench, immediately several individual grenades from different directions exploded around me. Luckily, I was still safe, but suddenly I felt a sharp pain in my temple, touching it I felt blood flowing profusely. The wound was small but it was in a vital spot so a lot of blood came out... Someone bandaged my head completely white and took me to the back. There was still a battle ahead, I didn't know if the shot hit or not? But after the B40 shot, the enemy's machine gun fire stopped (later I was awarded the Third Class Medal of Military Exploit in this battle). I was transferred to the Provincial Governor's bunker. That night, we suffered many casualties, the bunker was littered with wounded soldiers, each with a different type of injury. The following evening, I was taken by boat across the Thach Han River to Vinh Linh for treatment. After several months of treatment and convalescence, I returned to the battlefield and participated in the battle of Cua Viet before the ceasefire according to the Paris Agreement on January 27, 1973.

Rambling memories of the past, and the stories of soldiers, there are still many, no ink can write them all, no paper can print them all. As a veteran, once again I would like to thank the Liaison Committee of Regiment 64, Division 320B for giving me an opportunity to express my feelings as a soldier at the end of the great patriotic war.