An unforgettable time

I enlisted on October 26, 1977, in Dai Kim Commune, Thanh Tri, Hanoi. Initially, I joined Regiment 252, Division 520, Engineers.

The training days in Dai Tu, Thai Nguyen, for Hanoi soldiers like me were extremely difficult and arduous. Besides getting acquainted with guns and ammunition, on Saturdays and Sundays we went into the forest to pick bamboo shoots, collect firewood, and chop bamboo to build shelters.

The first time away from home was also the first time I had to eat cassava instead of rice for several months. The main food was cassava soup, bamboo shoot soup, stir-fried bamboo shoots, salt, and rarely meat or fish. Because I ate a lot of cassava and missed rice, one day Fatty San and his squad invited me to go out for a meal, thinking we would get to eat chicken or at least pork. When it was time to serve, I couldn’t believe that the meal that day was just a pot of new rice and a plate of white salt.

Food was already hard, but scabies and ringworm were even harder. Most of us new soldiers, perhaps because of the unfamiliar water and environment, got scabies and ringworm. Luckily, the locals instructed us to break off a branch from a three-pronged tree, boil it, and bathe in it once or twice to get well. For ringworm, we used the sap of green banana fruit, but not everyone got well.

During the day we rolled around, crawled and learned to shoot AK and CKC guns. At night, regardless of the time, if the alarm sounded, we had to get up and do outdoor activities, crossing all kinds of terrain such as hills, dense forests and deep fields.

It was also thanks to these spontaneous outdoor activities that Sinh, an ethnic minority man from Vinh Phuc province, caught a cold and was saved by us. That night, when the alarm went off, we discovered that Sinh was still lying motionless. Using all the experience we had learned, the whole squad rushed in to use balm to massage his temples, rub his feet and hands, and give him breathing exercises. Not knowing which massage method was effective, a few minutes later, Sinh regained consciousness. On September 27, 1978, on the flight to the North to treat his wounds, I met Sinh again. He told me that in the first battle around the beginning of June 1978, Sinh was injured, his right hand was amputated, and he had several other injuries. Battle experience is very important, I later learned that new soldiers in their first battle suffered many casualties.

On May 3, 1978, when the currency was changed, we were exploiting bamboo on the top of Khe Pass, Tuyen Quang. When the squad heard the news, they sent someone down to exchange the currency, but when they arrived it was past 12 o'clock and they couldn't exchange it. After that, for the whole week, we only ate water spinach with salt. During this time, the forest at Khe Pass was dense, spreading down to the foot of the pass, and water spinach grew abundantly, young and lush like people sowing mustard greens. People often saw flocks of dozens of wild chickens flying up and down. Every night, the locals still gathered together to hunt wild deer and elk.

I am close friends with two guys from Vinh Phuc, one named Minh, the other named Thang.

One day, the three of us went to the forest, when Thang was picking bamboo shoots at the foot of the hill, Minh whispered to me: "Look at Thang's eyes, he has a short life." Hearing him say that, I was very surprised and did not believe it. However, listening to him, looking closely at Thang, I saw that his left eye was a bit squinted and his eyes were also a bit different from other people. Thang died in July 1978, as an unlucky case. It seems that thanks to training, even though his eyes were squinted, Thang still became a good shooter and was selected to join the sniper unit. That day, in the afternoon, the sniper squad marched to a high post. While the squad was walking, suddenly there was a series of bullets flying, Thang was hit by a bullet in the stomach, blood gushed out. Under normal conditions, with timely emergency care, if injured like Thang, he would have been in the hospital for a few months and would have been fine. Unfortunately for Thang, there were helicopters flying from within the country every day to pick up seriously wounded soldiers, but that day no helicopters landed. The brothers and the transport team carried Thang all night, and it was nearly 6am when they arrived at the regiment's surgical station. When they put the stretcher down, they realized Thang had passed out from massive blood loss.

I still remember when I was in training, the Political Commissar of my company, from Nghe An, was a short man, with a stern appearance and a powerful voice, but his education was limited, so every time he made an announcement on the dining hall board, we had to admire his squiggly handwriting, full of spelling mistakes. In the unit, there were not many soldiers who had finished high school like me, so I was often assigned the task of correcting the spelling mistakes of the commander's announcements and at the beginning of the week, I stood in front of the troops and read the 10 oaths and 12 disciplinary rules.

In mid-May 1978, most of the new recruits were given leave before going to the South. Some of them, including me, were transferred to Noi Bai airport to do the task of pouring concrete and extending the runway for large military transport planes carrying bombs and tanks to land. Our diet, each meal usually consisted of 2 or 3 pieces of flour the size of the palm of our hand and food was boiled old water spinach, sometimes with yellow leaves and roots intact, the dipping sauce was always burnt rice mixed with salt water. But anyway, for us soldiers, this was also the happiest period, because in the afternoon we could play soccer to our heart's content, or go pick round grass mushrooms the size of the tip of our index finger, which were cooked into a very sweet soup. Noi Bai airport was vast, the grass was tall, the fields were deep and very far from houses. In the middle of the airport runway was a 2-story building with a tall antenna. I guessed that was the coordination center for aircraft take-offs and landings. One rainy night, Thang from Vinh Phuc went out in the rain, and about an hour later he brought back a sack of frogs. Hungry, we skinned them and took only two frog legs to fry with salt, but we couldn’t eat them because they had no seasoning and tasted too fishy.

At the end of May 1978, we were unexpectedly given 3 days of leave to prepare to go to the South. That summer, the red phoenix flowers were in full bloom, the sound of cicadas chirping filled the streets as if in harmony with the children's song broadcast by the Voice of Vietnam at noon, "Ce ve, he ve". During my days off, I took the opportunity to visit my brothers, friends and say goodbye to my close friend from high school. The parting was lingering, the longing was indelible. I will always remember her beautiful smile, her expressive eyes and the sweet aroma of her jasmine tea. At that time, young soldiers like us mainly loved with our eyes, not daring to confess or hold hands with our girlfriends, even though we knew the ancients said, "If you love, say you love / If you don't love, say one thing to be done, Don't be half-clear, half-muddy / Let the mussel water make your heart yearn."

On May 23, 1978, the Division's Gat truck transported all of us new recruits from Noi Bai airport to Giap Bat station. That evening, around 8:00 p.m., we boarded the train to the South.

On May 26, 1978, we arrived at Long Binh base, the base of Division 341. This was a large base, with asphalt roads stretching all around, and it was said that cars could travel all day to reach the end of the road. Outside the asphalt road, grass grew waist-high, and if we wanted to go anywhere, we only dared to go on the trails because if we went off the road, we could get hit by mines.

Our unit stayed there for about 3 days, then was taken to stay at a local's house in Ap Cao Xa, Trang Bang, Tay Ninh, for about 2 more weeks of training. During our time there, during the day we were equipped with combat skills such as mine clearance, shooting all kinds of guns, including sniper rifles with optical sights, grenade launchers, and M72s.

In the evening, during our free time, we invited each other to drink sugarcane juice and get to know the girls. The people here are mainly Catholics, some of whom are from Kim Lien village, Hanoi, who migrated to the South in 1954. Next to my house is the house of the Hamlet Chief of Cao Xa Hamlet, who is also a Hanoian. His wife, about 40 years old, walks with one foot high and one foot low, but has a kind face and still has many charming features of her youth. Their ten daughters are all beautiful, but their faces have a hint of sadness like the Virgin Mary. The three older sisters are 18 or 20 years old, pretty as beauty queens, speak softly and are cute. They all like the Hanoi soldiers because they are from the same hometown, moreover, the Hanoi soldiers are white-skinned, hard-working, and speak "easy to listen to". Pitying us for training hard and about to go to the battlefield but still eating corn for breakfast, the nearby houses took turns cooking rice in exchange for our corn for raising livestock. That was also their way of helping us ease our daily difficulties. The third girl, Kieu Trinh, was mischievous and easy-going. She loved to hear about the lives and activities of the people in the North and about my brothers and friends. Knowing that my private allowance was only 5 dong/month, not enough for pocket money, Kieu Trinh once gave me money and forced me to accept it. Before going to Cambodia, my squad was treated to rice, rice wine, beef and pork intestines by the Hamlet Chief and his wife. At the end of the meal, we were given coconut water and sugarcane juice to sober up.

The next morning, just before the bus left, she arrived. When we met, her soft, warm hand tightly held my rough hand. Her eyes were red and blurred with tears, avoiding my gaze. She put the gift package in my hand, leaned over and whispered in my ear: "Have a safe trip, when you have time, come visit me." I wanted to hold her for a long time and say a few words of comfort to her, but before I could, she rushed away, as fast as a breeze, leaving me happy, sad and disappointed, my eyes following her figure disappearing behind the trees.

At the end of June 1978, we marched across Ben Soi.,added to the units of the Division, I personally went to the 82 mortar squad, belonging to the 4th firepower company, belonging to the 7th battalion, 3rd regiment, 341st division, stationed in Cambodia, about 20 kilometers from the Vietnam border.

Since crossing into Cambodia, through the Nha Thuong intersection, we had heard the sound of artillery shells exploding everywhere. The closer we got to the front line, the louder the sound of artillery shells, the deafening explosions, the dust flying everywhere. On the road, there were sections of the roadside with piles of mines of all kinds that had been cleared, stacked high, mainly anti-tank mines of various sizes, smaller than a tray, and under the fields were planted many stakes warning of mines.

On the car, no one said a word, but we all knew we were about to enter a new, fierce phase, facing life and death.

As for the new unit, from here on, we spent almost all the nights sleeping in the tunnels, each tunnel usually had 2 to 3 people. If we were at a key point and had plenty of time, we would make A-shaped tunnels, but normally, when we were fighting on the move, we would dig half-submerged tunnels. The tunnels were dug about two handspans deep, and we couldn’t dig any deeper because the water would rise. However, sometimes, while we were sleeping soundly, we would suddenly wake up with a cold back and find the water had risen and soaked us. Lying in this tunnel, one day I woke up with numb legs, and all day long, I couldn’t control my legs as I wanted.

From here on, our clothes had to be embroidered with our names, year of birth, and unit name. All clothes and belongings were put into a nylon sack (called a snake sack), the kind that could hold 10kg of rice, which included a tank, a hammock, a set of long clothes, a set of underwear, a towel, and toothpaste. Our soldiers' backpacks used a parachute cord, the two ends of the cord were tied to the two corners of the bag, folded in half, and tied around the neck of the bag, creating a backpack. Those who did not participate in the Southwest border campaign could hardly imagine this convenient type of backpack for soldiers.

The first night at the checkpoint. I was sleeping fitfully because of the constant gunfire, without any warning, I was woken up by the squad leader to take over the guard duty for another squad member. It was 3am, it was raining, and the sky was pitch black. I quickly put on a piece of green plastic and quickly walked out. The checkpoint was a hole about 60cm deep, about 1m in diameter, surrounded by a wall about 20-30cm high. I received the AK and about 10 grenades including American duckbill grenades, Hungarian baseball grenades and 1 directional grenade.Claymoalready set up in front. After receiving the weapons and instructions from the old soldier, left alone, I strained my eyes, strained my ears, observed, listened, but it was too dark to see far, only heard the sound of guns booming, crackling, and the patter of rain, the rustling sound of grass and trees touching each other, the buzzing sound of mosquitoes. There were countless mosquitoes, they clung to my face and hands. I didn't dare to hit hard for fear of revealing my position, occasionally I had to gently rub my face and hands to kill the mosquitoes. Only when a series of fire bullets shot up from somewhere, I could observe that ahead was a wide open space, deep fields, and grass growing up to my knees. Further away was a high ditch bank, where the enemy was blocking the way. To my right, closer was a tall palmyra palm grove, where the enemy was. The time on guard passed slowly, but I, like my comrades, still tried to guard a little longer so that my brothers could get some more sleep. At nearly 5 o'clock, the sky gradually lightened, and now I could see the silhouettes of Pol Pot soldiers ahead. I breathed a sigh of relief because from now on, with the light, I could take the initiative in fighting.

During the two days I was stationed here, I was accompanied by the men in the squad, most of whom were from Nghe An and Ha Tinh, who enlisted in the army in 1974, and instructed on how to use the 82 mortar proficiently. They assigned me the task of aiming, adjusting the range, adjusting the direction, and how to increase the propellant charge, attach it to the tail of the shell, and learned that when hungry, I could nibble on the 82 propellant charge, which had a slightly sweet taste, and learned a very effective way to cure scabies by mixing 82 mortar ammunition with gun cleaning oil.

My 82 mortar squad has 9 people, I am the youngest. The squad leader is from Thai Binh, has a round face, short and stocky. The deputy squad leader is from Nghe An, has a dark face with a few pockmarks, and a scraggly beard, but is a talented, gentle person, likes to read stories, is emotional, and likes to share. He showed me a few letters before sending them to his lover. The love letters he wrote are very suitable for the mood of the person and the scene. In his letters, when he is happy, his heart sings, flowers bloom, trees sprout, when he is sad because of difficult love, the sky and earth seem to have storms, the roads are muddy...

The company commander was from Nghe An, the company political commissar was Vien, from Vinh Bao, Hai Phong. Honestly, in the squad, I could not distinguish which soldier was from Nghe An, which was from Ha Tinh because their voices were difficult to hear and similar. People kept asking me: "Are you from Hanoi, the inner city or the suburbs?" I said: I have been from Dong Da area, Hanoi, since I was 1 year old. In front of my house is Dong Da Mound, the burial ground of the Qing Dynasty's invading army in the late 18th century. Hanoi in the 60s and 70s looked like a small town, with many thatched houses and bamboo walls. It can be said that at that time, Hanoi was a city of lakes, lakes connected to lakes, with lots of crabs and fish, and the city never flooded when it rained. At that time, Dong Da area was sparsely populated. When we were of school age, there was a lack of schools, so we had to study in Nam Dong church. There were few cinemas, so we often had to watch movies at Khuong Thuong and Long Bien beaches. My unforgettable impression of Hanoi at that time was the row of tall ancient cotton trees, running along the tram tracks, all the way from Hoan Kiem Lake to Ha Dong, and in the summer the red cotton flowers fell all over the road.

At 7:00 pm on July 1, 1978, we received orders to each receive 2 packages of dried rice and carry 40-50kg of weapons and ammunition to set off. At about 8:00, it was drizzling, the sky was moonless and starless, very dark. With scouts leading the way, the unit heavily and silently infiltrated deep into the enemy base. The unit formation moved in a single file, the person behind saw the shadow of the person in front, strictly obeying one of the 3 commands of the commander from the front of the army: "Go fast! Stop! Lie down!"

To advance to the assembly point, we had to cross many fields, sometimes on the banks, sometimes in the fields, our clothes soaked and covered with mud. At 5 am, the unit stopped, we all quietly dug trenches. We estimated that we had traveled in circles for about 20-25 kilometers.

At 5:30, our 105mm artillery fired heavily at the enemy's position. Bullets exploded everywhere. The enemy's battlefield was engulfed in smoke and fire, with the acrid smell of gunpowder.

After the artillery barrage, our infantry charged forward in groups. It was our artillery company’s turn to find enemy fire positions to open fire, supporting the infantry. First came the sound of the heavy machine gun, 12.7, then the DK75. I quickly adjusted the direction and range of the mortar according to the squad leader’s instructions. When I heard the steady sound of the mortar, I rushed up to the termite mound, observing the enemy fire position. A few minutes later, when I regained my composure, the enemy guns fired at our formation. Boom, a B41 hit the termite mound where I was hiding, the earth covered me, thanks to the protection of my helmet, I was unharmed, but I managed to see the enemy’s 12.7 position and the green smoke of the B41 shooter. Estimating the distance and using my memory of the shooting angle, I adjusted the mortar once more. The sound of the rocket engine rang out again, the bullets exploded loudly, covering the enemy's back. It must be said that these guys were very good at fighting because after each shot, they moved their positions very quickly. Suddenly, with a swish-swish-boom, I had just managed to lie down when a DK shell covered our squad, the fire was burning, the dirt flew. This DK shell injured 2 comrades in the squad, including Hoang, who often slept in the same bunker with me. The battle that followed was a stalemate, tit for tat. We even fired 1 DK shell, they returned 2-3. My unit's path of attack was very difficult because we had not yet destroyed the enemy's DK 75 and 12.7mm guns.

At 8 o'clock, two tanks came to support us. Some soldiers climbed onto the tanks, the rest of us followed the tanks and attacked, the enemy panicked and ran away. We rushed forward to chase. I saw a guy in black pants and a black short-sleeved shirt using a rope to drag his comrade's body and run away into the bushes. In their kitchen, we discovered many rectangular baskets woven from palm leaves, each containing about 3 bowls of still warm rice, on top were 2 dried fish, each the size of 2 fingers.

After the battle, my company regrouped, 1 dead, 4 wounded. My squad was praised by the Command Board for hitting the target, concentrating the bullets, effectively supporting the infantry. In this battle, it was said that many new soldiers like me added to the regiment were killed and wounded.

The next morning, the Company Commander called me up to give me the mission of capturing deserters of the Company. When he met me, the first thing he asked me was: "Do you know how to swim?" I answered "yes". He opened his own map of Svay province, showed me a shortcut across the river to the Vietnam border (I didn't know what river it was) and took the cluster of tall green trees on the map as my destination. I slung my AK over my shoulder, added an American duckbill grenade to my belt, and changed direction as I ran. After about half an hour, when I reached the riverbank, I took off some of my long clothes, wrapped them in the nylon monk's robe, and hid them in the bushes.

Jumping into the river, relying on my strength and lack of experience, I swam with my right hand, holding the gun high above the water with my left hand. After swimming a short distance, my arm was tired, the gun gradually sank, I drank a few mouthfuls of water, and had to drop the gun. Returning to shore, I was very worried, because I had not fulfilled my duty, and had lost the gun, the battlefield discipline would be very severe. Reconfirming the position of the gun, I swam out, took a deep breath, dived down, and searched with both hands. The water was murky, but the depth was about 2m at most. The first dive did not find it. It took me until the third dive to find the gun, hold it tight and swim to shore. It was a lesson I will never forget, a close call.

To make up for lost time, I ran as fast as an amateur footballer could, and when I got near the Nha Thuong intersection, I met an old soldier from my company and some new recruits who had been stopped and arrested there. I met him and asked him to return to his unit. He said he was a soldier of the 74th, had just returned from leave to get married, and his wife was pregnant. He also added that of the 3 men in his company who had returned home to get married like him, 2 had died. He refused to return to his unit, but accepted to be escorted to Ba Den Mountain, joining the Division's receiving army.

I returned to my unit around 4 pm and reported the results of the trip to the Company Commander and the Company Political Commissar. They encouraged me that although I did not catch the deserter, I had completed my mission and my mind was not shaken.

During the few days we stayed here, in addition to strengthening the trenches, we wandered around looking for coconut trees to eat as vegetables and catch fish. There were a lot of fish here, mostly perch and snakehead fish. The Cambodian rice fields were relatively flat, with many irrigation canals, making them suitable for farming. The rest were higher patches of land, in which and along the roads were rows of tall palm trees, interspersed with thorny bamboo bushes.

In all the areas I passed through, I saw houses demolished, coconut trees cut down. Notably, I did not see any graves, only occasionally saw shrines with urns containing ashes.

At 6:00 a.m. on July 6, 1978, we attacked at the Division level. My regiment had tanks and M113 armored vehicles attached to it. At 9:00 a.m., our planes supported us in dropping bombs on enemy positions.

The unit's attack direction was relatively favorable. By noon we had captured a number ofvillageof the enemy. Some of my unit were wounded, mainly due to landmines. Whoever stepped on this type of mine lost both feet and both calves were torn off, leaving only bones.

At noon, the whole squad was gathering to eat dried rice, the food was a pot of water with a can of chicken added, the vegetables were thinly sliced ​​coconut shoots stir-fried with fatty meat. In the middle of the meal, suddenly there was a loud bang, a loud bang. Dozens of artillery shells were fired into my company's position. Everyone quickly dispersed and went into the shelter, no one was injured. At that moment, we knew we were being targeted by stray bullets from our artillery. A few days later, we also learned that the 105mm artillery company stationed near us was also hit by several of our bombs, 3 soldiers were injured. In war, falling bombs and stray bullets are unavoidable, but no matter what, we were still sad, still thinking if only...

That morning, the direction our regiment attacked was generally favorable, while the other regiments encountered many difficulties. One battalion was almost wiped out, with only 3 comrades remaining. Also in this direction, 2 of our T54 tanks were burned by the enemy. Later, when we looked closely at the burned T54 tank, we could only see a small hole in the melted steel, the size of a finger, but inside the soldiers were all burned black.

At noon on July 7, 1978, the squad leader assigned me and a comrade in the squad to reinforce the outpost. Crawling out of the palmyra palm grove, the enemy's guns on the high dike fired like rain, water splashed all around us. Sometimes, the enemy's fire was so fierce, we curled up, lay still and pretended to be dead. At this time, the two of us felt helpless and our lives were hanging by a thread, all we could do was wait for the savior to protect us, the steel helmet on our heads. Every time the gunfire stopped, we continued to crawl. When we were near the grove, we saw blood stains, my right hand touched the mine wire made of blue electric wire, my body felt like it was being electrocuted, I retreated, preparing to lie down quickly if I heard the sound of the mine detonating.

Changing direction, we quickly ran into the bushes. The battlefield here was very quiet, no one came to pick us up. After searching for a few minutes, we discovered 3 soldiers who had died from sniper fire. Checking the outer edge more carefully, we found another soldier wounded, bleeding profusely, delirious. He had a bullet in the chest, the bullet hole was only the size of a finger, but the wound on his back was as big as the bottom of a bowl. After bandaging his wound, we carried him out.

Compared to the entrance, the way out was much more difficult and fierce because we had to carry the stretcher on the only road with rice fields on both sides, and enemy guns were aimed at us. Enemy bullets were hitting us, water was splashing all around us. When the bullets were too intense, we told each other to quickly put the stretcher down on the road and roll it down the rice field. Maybe because of the strong shock, the wounded soldier was sometimes conscious and sometimes unconscious. Through him, I learned that he was from Nghe An and his girlfriend was studying abroad.

Luckily, at the moment of danger, the sound of our mortars and 12.7mm guns firing continuously into the enemy's position, pinning them down. Taking advantage of this moment, the two of us shouted to each other to carry the stretcher and run, despite the enemy's shooting after us.

Until now, I still do not know how serious the injury of that Nghe An soldier was and whether he was destined to be with the girl he mentioned when he was near death, but I still believe that he is still alive. I hope that the earth rotates, and one day we will meet again.

After July 7, 1978, I became more known to the company command, especially the Political Commissar, who loved me very much. My company only had one K54 pistol, which he kept. Every time he sent me on a mission, he often gave me that pistol in case of enemy ambushes. Thanks to that, I was able to fire a few shots from this pistol, but the target was not Pol Pot soldiers but fish and birds. Through that, I realized that without proper training, it is very difficult to hit the target with a K54.

During the entire month of July 1978, my 341st Division coordinated with Divisions 2, 7, and 9 of the 4th Corps and two local military regiments of Ho Chi Minh City to fight the enemy continuously without a single day of rest along the border from Tay Ninh to Kien Giang and Dong Thap.

During this time, the soldiers' diet had improved. Our breakfast was usually a loaf of bread with canned milk. Bread was transported from Tay Ninh. Lunch and dinner were still dried rice, but already cooked (with dried rice, we normally just poured water from the fields into it, waited for it to expand, then ate). Taking advantage of the calm times on the battlefield, we divided up fishing in many ways, sometimes even using grenades. If we didn't finish all the fish, we dried them to eat later.

However, we and the enemy were still locked in a tight situation. The boundary between our unit and the enemy was only a few hundred meters. Both sides could still see each other, the battlefield was never quiet and death was always lurking from artillery shells, sniper bullets and mines.

In that situation, we had witnessed my squad leader, soldier 74, who had fought the enemy since the first days of the campaign, being slightly wounded twice, being so cautious that it made us laugh. On our front line, bullets were still flying back and forth, both on purpose and randomly. While we were still walking normally from tree to tree, he was bending down and running "whoosh" from tree to tree.

In my company, from the commanders to the soldiers, we are a cohesive group, regardless of age or position, loving each other wholeheartedly, ready to share the sweet and the bitter with each other, living and dying for each other. That can only be achieved in fierce fighting conditions when in the morning we eat together, but by dinner time, some people are missing and we may never see each other again. To overcome ourselves and the fierceness of war, we still keep in mind that bullets avoid people; moreover, if the enemy shoots, it is not certain that they will hit, and if they hit, it is not certain that they will die. To put it more poetically, "die green grass, live red chest".

At noon on July 10, Mat, the strongest man in the company, was shot in the heart by a random bullet while bathing in the bushes. Death came so suddenly that he did not have time to say a word.

A few days later, the squad leader of the 12.7mm squad, belonging to my company, was captured by the enemy. At dawn that day, his squad was assigned to go to a high post to support the sniper squad. The squad leader went first, with an AK on his shoulder. The brothers followed, some carrying the barrel, some carrying the base, and carrying ammunition. Suddenly, the Pol Pot soldiers rushed out from the bushes and knocked down the squad leader. The others opened fire and scattered bullets towards the squad. The brothers dispersed and used grenades to fight back, but because they were passive, had no submachine guns, and only had a few grenades in their hands, they could not save the squad leader. That night, he was hung from a tree, doused with gasoline, and burned alive. During the Cambodian war, Pol Pot soldiers never took prisoners. Our soldiers who were captured were eventually killed in pain. That's why on the front line, wherever we went and whatever we did, we always carried a duckbill grenade with us as an inseparable item and considered it our last grace, determined not to let it fall into the enemy's hands.

In August 1978, the company was supplemented with more than a dozen new soldiers, soldiers 78. My squad received two boys, Hung and Manh, from Nghe An, both small, light, and of a scholarly appearance. I was assigned to accompany and guide them. From then on, wherever I went, they were always with me like a shadow. Until mid-August, my brothers and I fought several battles. If the battle was small, we would go deep from 8 or 9 pm, and the next morning at 5 or 6 am we would start fighting. If we fought a big battle at the Division or Corps level on a nice day, fighting with our unit, in addition to tanks and armored vehicles, there were also our planes dropping bombs on enemy positions.

August 5, 1978, was also a lucky day for me, Hung and Manh. That day, around 5 pm, it was starting to get dark. My unit was ordered to move closer to the enemy's position to attack the next morning. While the three of us were walking on a path through a shallow field with thick grass, I went first, carrying more than a dozen mortar shells. Following me, Hung and Manh also carried the same number of mortar shells as me. Perhaps because they were not used to carrying the load, their shoulders were swollen. So I had to slow down and wait for them. Suddenly, two of the cooks were carrying a large military pot and ran past me. After only five or six steps past me, suddenly "Boom", a mine exploded. Looking up, I saw the two of them fall to different places, covered in blood. The one in front had a piece stuck in his neck, blood gushing out. Unintentionally, the two of them and the military pot had shielded the three of us.

By the end of August 1978, in my unit's direction, the enemy had been pushed back, clustered at the foot of Playxét bridge, on the other side was Svayrieng town, but they fought back fiercely and organized many counter-attacks to regain the land. On our side, the number of troops was also greatly reduced.

Late afternoon, August 25, 1978 was an unforgettable day for us. The company command assigned me, along with Hung and Manh, to deliver 6 boxes of ammunition to the 12.7mm squad that was blocking the road intersection. With my experience, I reminded Hung and Manh to each put an American duckbill grenade in their waistbands. Before leaving, Vien, the company's political commissar, carefully reminded me to bring an AK, but I thought it would be cumbersome; besides, I was at my own post, so I didn't bring it. Later, I felt so regretful. After that, the three of us went to the post. A few hundred meters out of Phum, we encountered several T54 tanks and several 37mm cannons lined up on both sides of the road, their barrels pointing towards the enemy. Convinced that the enemy was still far away, we slowly walked past them, and after about 2-3 hundred meters, we saw on my right two scouts covered in mud. Later we learned that it was our outpost. After passing them for about 100 meters, it was already dark. While continuing on and seeing the outpost in the middle of the road as instructed by the company command, about 30-40 meters away from us, Manh suddenly said to me with a trembling voice: "Brother, Mien!". Feeling guilty, I stopped to listen, it was indeed the voice of Khmer soldiers. I shouted to run. We ran back a few meters, then 12.8mm bullets were fired after us, the sound of bullets exploding loudly, loudly... accompanied by the sound of wind blowing around us. I remember clearly, at that time I quickly rushed down the ditch on the left side of the road, Hung and Manh also rushed behind. The sound of bullets and bullets pounded into the palm trees on the side of the road. Our biggest fear at that moment was that they were chasing us, it would be difficult for us to escape, because we had no guns and only 3 grenades, and the 2 of them did not have much combat experience. Quickly hiding under the palmyra palm tree, I calmly observed and broke the pin of the duckbill grenade, and at the same time said as if giving an order: "Pass all the grenades to me." Then, I let the two brothers retreat first, I followed behind to act as a lookout and interceptor. The three brothers dragged three loads of ammunition under the thick mud ditch, while the enemy continued to shoot and chase after them. After only crawling about a hundred meters, I was already exhausted, the two brothers were probably still shaking and much more tired. Realizing that our retreat speed was too slow and the two brothers seemed to no longer have enough strength; in addition, there was still the worry that they would chase after us, I decided to bury the three boxes of ammunition in the mud. Each person had one box of ammunition, we carried it on our shoulders, running along the row of palmyra palm trees. Hung ran quickly in front, while Manh occasionally slowed down as if waiting for me. Luckily for us, there was a row of trees along the road to shield us and they did not dare to chase us. When we returned to the unit, it was completely dark. I reported to the company command that our 12.7mm gun had been captured by the enemy and replaced by their 12.8mm gun. Luckily, the three of us were not captured alive and I recounted the incident that had just occurred. After hearing this, feeling sorry for the soldiers, Mr. Vien, the Political Commissar, became angry. He immediately called the battalion commander on the radio, his voice angry: "Is that how you guys do things? You almost burned three of my soldiers."

As the National Day approached, we were given more canned milk, beer and 5 packs of American Rubi cigarettes. Without prior notice, on the night of August 28, 1978, my unit was ordered to hand over the post to a friendly unit, then boarded a Reo (a large American transport vehicle) to Tay Ninh town to rest on the occasion of September 2, 1978. The following afternoon, we invited each other to play soccer with the local youth. Having not played soccer for a long time and with our physical strength exhausted, we lost the match without scoring a single goal.

On the morning of August 30, 1978, I took the opportunity to visit several families in Ap Cao Xa, the place that had taken care of us during our training period. First, I went to Kieu Trinh's house. I greeted loudly: "Hello, uncle and aunt". Kieu Trinh's father looked at me suspiciously and asked: "Is that Quang?" He was surprised by my sudden appearance. After a few seconds, he walked over and hugged me, touching my whole body. At this time, I heard the crying getting louder. After greeting the whole family, I approached her, she was still crying, tears streaming down her face. Through her, I learned that this was the second time she cried because of my physical appearance. She said that about a month ago, a unit from Cambodia returned, she asked about me and learned that I had sacrificed. Hearing that news, not only her, but many people also cried for me. Her family and the families I visited invited me to stay for dinner. In response to everyone's kindness, my family each ate a little and drank half a glass of wine, then returned to the unit in time for roll call.

Normally, we had a few days off on September 2, 1978 in Tay Ninh town, but because the Regiment that took over our position the day before had lost its post, on the night of August 30, 1978, around 10 p.m., we were picked up by a Reo truck and taken to Cambodia.

After September 2, 1978, we fought a major battle at the Corps level. A few days later, we recaptured the land occupied by the Pol Pot army at the end of August, and collected dozens of dead soldiers. We were also saddened because among those dead soldiers, there were some wounded soldiers who were captured by the enemy, and later had their arms and legs cut off, leaving them to die slowly.

Around September 14 and 15, 1978, I was called by the company command to announce the order to transfer me to be the Administrator, the deputy company commander in charge of logistics and affairs of the wounded and dead of the unit, replacing a Lieutenant - Administrator who would be transferred to be the Company Commander of another company.

Hearing the news, I was half happy and half worried. Happy because I was promoted so quickly, beyond my imagination. Happy because from now on I would not have to face the smoke and fire of the battlefield. But I was also worried because I did not know how to handle the upcoming job, which was also the first time I had to take care of dozens of people. In addition, I was also worried and a little sad because I would have to leave my comrades who had been with me, lived and died with me.

Following the order of the Company Command, I met with the Administrator for a few dozen minutes. I just learned about the situation of food, weapons, ammunition and the number of wounded and dead soldiers in the unit. During this meeting, I learned that the number of wounded and dead soldiers in the unit was over 60 people, more than the initial number of soldiers as well as the current number of soldiers in the unit. Knowing that I was the Administrator, some squad leaders met me, got acquainted and kindly asked me to keep some things for them. I also did not know what they would send, but I was sure that these men would send me valuable items they had collected.

A few days later, because the unit's work had not been completed, the old Administrator had not yet returned to the new unit, so I returned to the squad post.

On the evening of September 25, 1978, at 8:00 p.m., we were again ordered to infiltrate deep to cover the enemy. The enemy was in front of us.Phum, surrounded by rows of palm trees. At this time, it was moonlit at night so it was easier for us to move. However, because it was bright, there were some sections where the enemy spotted us and fired at us like hail, so we had to crawl around to avoid them.

At about 5:30 a.m. on September 26, 1978, when it was just beginning to get light, we saw the enemy's shadow looming in the distance.Phum. After the opening fire of our 105mm artillery shells and tank guns on the enemy positions, we rushed across the knee-deep water field, advancing and firing at the enemy positions. Supporting us was the M113 armored vehicle. The continuous explosions like the drums of the 12.7mm gun on the vehicle fired continuously, plowing into the enemy positions. After a few minutes of regaining composure, the 105mm artillery shells and DK 75 and enemy mortars fired fiercely at us. Enemy artillery shells swished - boom, swished - boom exploded all around us. Columns of earth, water and black smoke rose high, many times we did not know which way to avoid. All we knew was that when we heard the swishing, swishing sound above our heads, we would lie down or rush into the crater that had just exploded. While I was crossing the rice field, I suddenly heard the swishing, swishing sound above my head, I rushed down, but before I touched the water, "boom", the shell had exploded. Mud covered my body, my right arm and right leg were numb. Blood spurted from my right hand. After the explosion, I jumped up, but fell down again. Hung and Manh rushed to pick me up and help me up. Standing up, I had time to observe the 105mm artillery shell crater that exploded on the right, only about 3 meters away from me. This shell injured four people in my squad, including the deputy squad leader, me, Hung and Manh. When the shell exploded, the deputy squad leader was about ten meters away from me, but he was the most seriously injured, losing both legs. Later, I heard that he died. Compared to me, Hung and Manh were less injured, each of them had a few pieces of shrapnel. Hung's biggest wound was on his right shoulder, and Manh had a piece of shrapnel stuck in his right nipple. When the brothers in the squad heard that we were injured, they rushed to bandage me. Looking at my wounds, one of them even said: "Congratulations, you're alive and will be able to return home."

After temporarily bandaging our wounds, we were taken to the Regiment’s field surgery station. By noon, the number of wounded at the station had reached several dozen, lying everywhere. Here, I was examined by the doctors and my wounds were bandaged.

At 3:00 pm that day, a helicopter took us to Tan Son Nhat airport, then a car took us to Hospital 175, Ho Chi Minh City. On this flight, besides me, Hung and Manh, I also saw 3 stretchers hanging in the middle, on which were 3 seriously wounded soldiers.

Since then, I have stepped out of the smoke of war, returned to normal life, but I still do not forget the faces of my comrades and the martyrs who fell on the Southwestern front. It is thanks to their sacrifice and protection that I have lived until today and have the opportunity to tell these stories.

                                                       Hanoi, Autumn Winter 2015