Ha Tinh people

“We are Uncle Luong’s comrades, soldiers from Ha Tinh . Don’t look for us. Just call us Ha Tinh people, that’s all!”

I have a friend named Dang Minh Son, a construction engineer, living on Le Van Luong Street, Hanoi . Son and I met and became close when we were both in college. Although we went to different schools, the times we met on the soccer field brought us closer. We became even closer when I learned that my friend was the son of a martyr. Son's father was a Vietnamese volunteer soldier who heroically sacrificed his life in the attack on Muong Moc base, Xieng Khouang province, Laos in 1972.

The Fatherland honors the heroic martyrs who sacrificed for national independence and for noble international duties.

Last year, I was invited to a meeting of outstanding collaborators of the People's Army Radio Program and had the opportunity to visit Son's house. Unexpectedly, it was the anniversary of his father's death. When the last guest said goodbye and left, Son and I sat in the spacious living room. Son's voice was tinged with sadness:

- I'm really worried about this. You know, today is the 50th anniversary of my father's death. Half a century has passed and my husband and I still don't know where his grave is!

I looked at you with concern and quietly asked:

- Why don't you go find it?

- My father died in the war in Laos, he was the son of a martyr, and I was an only child. I only knew how to study. Laos is so far away, I heard it's all mountains and forests, going there requires all kinds of paperwork, I've never been in the army, how can I get around?

Son coughed a few times, his voice fading into silence:

- For a long time now, I have been dreaming of a soldier wearing a Laotian liberation army cap, wearing tire sandals, and carrying a backpack. Sometimes that soldier seems to be right in front of me, but somehow, sometimes near, sometimes far, I can’t see his face clearly. But strangely, looking at the soldier, I have a feeling that I have seen him somewhere before. Maybe my father is “back”, my friend.

Son lit an incense stick. In the silent smoke, Son's voice dropped:

- In the past, you were also a special forces soldier who fought at the Xieng Khouang front. You also worked at the Military Zone Newspaper and traveled to Laos a lot. My wife and I wanted to ask you to help us…

I nodded silently:

- It's difficult! But I'll try! Anyway, we'll try to find his grave. I think he died in Laos, and his brothers must have already gathered him back home…!

The day I returned home, I went to say goodbye to Son. I respectfully lit three incense sticks on the altar, looked at his portrait, and mumbled a prayer: “Uncle Luong, I will go find you on Son’s behalf!” The red incense sticks flickered as if signaling a good omen. When we arrived at the Nuoc Ngam bus station, when we said goodbye, Son handed me a bag of money wrapped in newspaper, and pleaded:

- Take it! I'm not paying you. But looking for relatives in the deep forests and mountains, in a foreign land, is not something that can be done in a day or two. You also have to ask other people to help you. And then there are the train and bus fares, food and drink… you have to pay for them too!

I shook my head and pushed Son's hand away:

- Don't do that! You and I are not only best friends, but we are also teammates!

The Vietnam - Laos International Martyrs Cemetery was built in 1976 on an area of ​​nearly 7 hectares in Anh Son town (Anh Son district - Nghe An ) and is the largest cemetery gathering the graves of Vietnamese volunteer soldiers and experts who died in Laos. Photo: QĐ (Lao Dong Newspaper).

I shook my friend’s hand tightly and got into the car. All along the way, I examined the paper Son gave me, which had the address: “Martyr Dang Minh Luong, hometown Quynh Hong commune, Quynh Luu district, Nghe An. Unit of Special Forces Company 20, Military Region 4. Died on April 18, 1972 at the Xieng Khouang front, battlefield C.” as if searching for something hidden behind the page. The car reached Bim Son, and a number of passengers got off the car. The passenger sitting next to me also got off. I was absorbed in looking at the Thanh Hoa mountains and forests blurred in the morning mist when I heard a very polite Ha Tinh accent:

- Sir, can I sit here?

I turned around. It was a soldier with the rank of lieutenant, wearing a backpack, standing as if waiting for my opinion. I nodded: "Comrade, feel free!" The soldier put his backpack on the scaffold and sat down next to me. It was a young man about 24-25 years old, with a bright, slightly sunburned and determined face. My first impression of the soldier was his eyes. His eyes shone with a clear and honest look. Suddenly, I asked:

- Where are you from? Are you on a business trip?

- Yes, I'm from Huong Khe, Ha Tinh. My unit is stationed in Nghe An. I went to Thanh Hoa to check the background of some comrades who are about to join the Party.

We sat in silence again. Suddenly the soldier turned to me and asked:

- You seem pensive? Are you thinking about something?

Somehow, looking at the soldier, I completely trusted him. I immediately told him everything about Uncle Luong. When I finished, the soldier slowly said:

- Near my unit, there are many cemeteries where Vietnamese volunteer soldiers who fought in battlefield C are buried, uncle!

I am so happy:

- That's great! I'm planning to go back to my hometown for a few days and then look for Uncle Luong's grave. Can you tell me where that cemetery is?

The soldier frowned, after a long while he timidly said:

- How about this, uncle? Let me go find him! Just give me Uncle Luong’s full name, unit, hometown, date of death, address, and phone number. When I get back to the unit, I will discuss it with the platoon members, many of whom are from Ha Tinh. We will take advantage of the day off to go to the cemeteries to find his grave. If anything happens, I will call you…!

I was so moved. I kept shaking the soldier's hand. Suddenly remembering, I asked:

- You are so absent-minded! You never asked for my hometown and address!

- Yes, my name is Nguyen Van Kinh, from Huong Khe. My phone number is 089292… but never mind, just call me next time and I will have your number right away…!

I waited in my hometown for a long time without hearing Kinh's call. I sighed and prepared to set out to look for him. Then one afternoon, exactly 2 months after meeting the young soldier, I received a call:

- Keeping my promise to you, when I returned to the unit, I immediately discussed with my comrades about looking for Uncle Luong's grave. There are many martyrs' cemeteries in this area, so to be sure, we heard that in any cemetery where there were martyrs of the Vietnamese volunteer army, we went there and searched all the tombstones but could not find them. We thought that Uncle Luong must have been gathered at the Vietnam - Laos International Martyrs' Cemetery (Anh Son district, Nghe An), so I and 3 soldiers went to look for him. The cemetery was vast, with tombstones upon tombstones. It was almost noon when we saw Uncle Luong's name on grave number 6, in row number 5, area E. The name of the person, the name of the commune, the name of the unit were all exactly as in the paper you wrote for me! I sent you a map of the cemetery via Messenger for your convenience.

I opened Messenger, below the cemetery map was a message from Kinh: “We are Uncle Luong’s comrades, soldiers of Ha Tinh. Don’t look for us. Just call us Ha Tinh people, that’s all!”

I was stunned! So the soldiers “do a favor and expect someone to repay it”. Thinking that, but also feeling happy, and feeling that I could trust Kính and the soldiers, I immediately called Sơn.

The Vietnam-Laos International Martyrs' Cemetery is the resting place of nearly 11,000 martyrs from 47 provinces and cities across the country who died on the battlefield in Laos, including many graves with unknown names. Photo: QĐ (Lao Dong Newspaper).

A few days later, Son drove his wife and children to my house. Following Kinh’s plan, we followed Highway 7 straight to Anh Son to the Vietnam-Laos International Martyrs’ Cemetery. The afternoon sun was golden, shining brightly on the numerous martyrs’ gravestones. Son and I were silent when we saw the fresh incense sticks and the neatly arranged bunches of sim flowers on the graves. Son whispered: “They belong to the soldiers of Ha Tinh!” then knelt down, hugged his father’s grave and cried. Son’s wife and children also knelt down and burst into tears.

- Dad, I haven't found you for 50 years. The soldiers from Ha Tinh found you and brought you back to me, Dad!

July 2023

Nguyen Xuan Dieu

Source: https://baohatinh.vn/nui-hong-song-la/nguoi-ha-tinh/252448.htm