"There were three of us. Three girls. We lived in a cavern at the foot of a strategic hill."
⭐This is the full English-translated Version of "Những ngôi sao xa xôi"-a short story written by Lê Minh Khuê. She's one of the most famous female authors i...
Thao trippingly fell and I tried to help her up. However, she pushed me away, her eyes were open wide and glazed over as if there were no more life in them. What happened? I didn't understand. She grabbed my hand, pulling me down next to a mound of earth. It was a small mound, rather long, and covered with the grey explosives of the bomb. -Nho, where did she hurt? Where was she hurt?
Thao sobbed, but without tears. I scoured the earth, pulled out Nho, and lay her across my lap. Blood gushed out of her arm, being absorbed into the earth. She didn't look as light and fresh as my white ice cream bar any longer. Her skin was pale, her eyes shut tight, and her clothes were covered with dirt. The bomb had leaped up and exploded in the air. Her underground shelter had collapsed.
That was all!
I cleaned Nho with water that had been boiled over the coal stove. The cotton wool bandages were white. The wound wasn't too deep, only cut the soft tissues. But because the bomb had exploded so close to her, Nho was in shock. I gave Nho an injection. Her eyes fluttered and she looked comfortable, perhaps she wasn't in pain. Thao was pacing back and forth outside, restless because she didn't know what to do, and she still tried to do something. She was afraid of blood.
-Let's call back to the unit, okay!
Thao only approached once Nho was lying clean and tidy on the wooden plank bed.
-I won't die. The unit is busy opening a road. We don't need to make so many people worry. Hey, girl! Why are you so panic?
-It's normal that those who aren't wounded often feel more pain than those who are.
Thao turned her face to the entrance to the cave and drank some more water from the canteen. Nho put one arm over her eyes. She knew that she shouldn't drink any water. I mixed some milk for her in the steel mug.
-Put a lot of sugar in. Make condensed milk! - Thao said. After she finished drinking the milk, Nho slept. The reconnaissance planes were still scraping away the silence of the mountains and forests. Thao leaned against the wall with her hands clasped behind her neck, didn't look at me.
-Sing, Phuong Dinh, sing your favorite song, sing!
I liked a lot of songs. I liked the marching songs the soldiers sometimes sang on the battlefield. I liked the soft, gentle Quan Ho folksong. I liked the "Katyusha" of the Soviet Red Army and holding my knees up to my chest dreamily: "Vide 'o mare quant'è Bello...". It was a romantic Italian folksong, so you had to start very low. I liked many songs. But I didn't want to sing just then. I was mad at Thao, although I understood the feelings whirling inside her head. She kept glancing at Nho, raising a hand to adjust her collar, her lapel, and her hair. She hadn't cried and she didn't even like tears. Anyone who shed a tear while we needed strength from each other would be seen as guilty of self-debasement.
Nobody said it, but we could read it in each other's eyes.
Thao sang: "Here's Thang Long, here's Dong Do... Hanoi...". Her voice was both squeaky and out of tune, so she couldn't sing anything smoothly. But she had three thick notebooks that she'd filled with the lyrics of songs. Whenever she had a free moment, she would sit down and copy out a song. She'd even passionately copied out the words of songs that I'd made up.
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