On November 1st, 1955, a war between North Vietnam and South Vietnam broke out. Other countries quickly came and America started supporting South Vietnam. The Viet Cong were again mobilized to fight the south and American forces. On 30th September, 1963, I turned seventeen and that day, I was very happy. I was finally old enough to join the army. My mother tried in vain to persuade me otherwise but my mind was set. I wanted to join the army. She sat me down one day and asked,
“Why do you want to join the army so much, dear? Have we not suffered enough already?”
I took her hands in mine, looked into her eyes and told her,
“I know mother, I know we have suffer much from the war with the French but ever since Dung came and father’s death, I have always felt powerless and weak. But now, I can go help the Viet Cong fight the Americans and help free our country… l… like father…”
After that, my mother barely ever talked to me again about it, I could only communicate with her eyes, which, themselves, were filled with sadness so deep that it was like falling into an endless pit. I knew my mother wanted to protect me but I just could not sit back and let my fellow countrymen die on the battlefields.
On the late morning of December 24th, 1963, I walked with to my mother’s bedside as my siblings playful ran in front of us kicking the rocks on the road. My mother seemed to have aged a hundred years since the last time we talked. Her hair hung lightly behind her head, her steps were slow and heavy. To cheer her up, I told her I would write every month to let her know how I’m doing and to keep in touch.
When we got to the market, I hugged my siblings’ good bye and told them to behave and to do all they could for our mother. Then, standing up, I hugged my mother tightly and gave her a kiss on the cheek before walking to the truck. Before climbing on, I looked back and gave them a wave. The truck already had four other people and it started up after I sat down. The truck started pulling out when I heard the sound of boots hitting the hard ground and turned back to see a person running for the truck. The kid threw his bags on the floor before leaping for the tailgate. He got hold of the tailgate but didn’t have enough grip to pull himself up. I reached a hand down and pulled with all my strength and got him onto the truck.
“Thanks friend!” he said. Finally getting settled, he introduced himself. “The name’s Truong.”
He reached out a hand and I took it in mine. His hands were rough and dry and he had a strong grip.
“Good to meet you. I’m Nhat.”
By the time we arrived at the training camp, Truong and I had become close friends and we were hoping to be put into the same squad. Our truck arrived and lined up next to a whole bunch of other trucks. All of the new recruits got off the truck and assembled for the introduction and inspection by an army sergeant. As the sergeant stopped in front of me, he looked down at his clipboard and barked out rapid questions,
“Name!”
“Nhat.”
“Nhat what?”
“Um…”
“When you address a sergeant, you say … sergeant!”
“Yes sergeant!”
“Good…”
He moved slowly down the line and we all stood standing still, no one daring to anger the sergeant. When he finished the last one, he started grouping everyone into units. He pointed at me,
“You... You…” He pointed at Truong. “And you.” The final member of our unit was a kid who was a little younger than us but was shorter than me by at least ten centimeters. His name was Vinh. “You three will now be squad 501!”
“Yes sergeant!” We shouted in unison.
