𝙻𝚘𝚠 𝙻𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚂𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜

Chapter 2: A Haunted Train

My name is Duc. The story I will tell you today happened about sixty-five years ago. What was my age then? 19 or 20. Those were the days when life was not at ease in Vietnam.
At that time, I had just gotten a job in the railway department with great difficulty. Even the job was added to the welfare of the war. World War II was going on at that time. We had no choice but to fight here. Military trucks and jeeps were often seen on the roads, where hundreds of thousands of military camps were everywhere.

At that time, young people were in demand for factories, radio stations, railways, and military camps. After getting the job, we had training for three months, and then I was sent to a place called Lam Dong, located in the central highlands' region of Vietnam. I can't explain what a great place it was today. The place was highly appreciated for its temperate climate, waterfalls, lakes, and abundance of flowers and vegetables. Everywhere you look, you can see forests and small hills. My shift was at Lam Dong's Dalat railway station.

I was just told that a large military camp had shifted to Lam Dong recently. I'd also heard that ammunition was also stored in the forest, a mile and a half from Dalat Railway Station. The main problem in that area was electricity. There was only a generator for the main office of the station. My room was next to the station; it takes a few steps from the main office, yet at night we had to depend on lanterns in the room and washroom.

A guy named Porter was my only companion. He was young and strong, without a doubt. In his spare time, he used to tell me random stories. I used to love Porter very much for his polite attitude. At the station, once a week, the raw food supply used to come from the railway department for me and Porter. Like rice, flour, salt, oil, potatoes, onions, and chilli, etc. Although as a station master, my daily job was to inspect the station, which must include the inspection of cabins, signals, level crossing gates, lamps, and cargo at least once a day. Yet I was happy with my posting in Lam Dong.

We had almost nothing to do. One or two freight trains used to come throughout the day. Trains come and stop at the station for at least 15–20 minutes. Then someone from the military base would come and load all the supply boxes into a wagon and drive back towards the base camp. A wagon is a four-wheeled vehicle for transporting bulky goods. Porter takes care of almost everything, from cleaning to supervising the whole station, so you can say I had nothing to do except sit and sing while waiting for the next train.

It's been 6 months since I was working at the station, and all my work was waiting for the next train to come and register, and without Porter, no other human being to talk to, life was getting bored. Once in a while, a strange passenger train would come and go. The windows of the train used to be covered with nets and rods all the time. I'm not sure why. The inner chassis of the old trains was smoky in colour. Nothing could be seen. Only a thin old military man with a rifle used to be at the door. He used to come and sign the paper with me at the register when the train stopped at the station. Then he would go—no talks, nothing in between. Sometimes I think of talking to them, but then I don't. As long as this train stays at the station, it makes some disturbing noises. It was probably the engine, but I had never heard such a strange engine noise in my whole life before.

However, nothing normal can be expected here in this dead place. I hated the guards on the wagon. They were not military. They used to arrive at the station two to four hours before the train arrived. They never speak to us. They would come and then smoke cigarettes for hours while giving us strange looks. I never understood any of them.

A guard only once told me quietly, "Don't ever ask for anything; never try to say a word. Sorry, we are the people from Military Transport and Security, and we do not have any permission to talk to outsiders."

From that instance, I became very careful. Everything in a war situation is dangerous; the military, troops, guns, and bombs are just everywhere. I don't know when I'll make one mistake and get a bullet raining on my chest.