“Yes, Grandma.” ??t sobbed.

Darkness was our ally as we slithered across the back garden and through the fence. Darkness held us in its mouth as we ran through the rice fields, crossing several streams to get to the next hamlet.

Terrified, we ran.

The Journey South

Hà N?i, 1975

It was pitch dark when I woke up. Grandma was snoring beside me. I fumbled around, found the S?n ca, and clutched it tightly in my hand. I lay there for a long time, thinking about the ordeals each of my family members had had to go through. If I had a wish, I would want nothing fancy, just a normal day when all of us could be together as a family; a day where we could just cook, eat, talk, and laugh. I wondered how many people around the world were having such a normal day and didn’t know how special and sacred it was.

Knowing I could no longer sleep, I lifted the mosquito net, tiptoed toward the bedroom door, and closed it behind me. In the kitchen, a shadow startled me.

“Uncle ??t,” I whispered, “couldn’t you sleep?”

“No,” a whisper came back.

I put the bird on the table, lit an oil lamp, and got us each a glass of water. In his wheelchair, my uncle looked like a shriveled old man. Yet he was only thirty-four.

“Want to go back to bed, Uncle? I can help you.”

He shook his head. “Can’t sleep much these days.”

“How come?” I sat down next to him, pushing the glass into his hand.

“Nightmares and stuff, you know.” He took a sip. “Don’t worry about me, though. Go back to bed.”

“I can’t sleep either. . . . Uncle ??t . . . thanks for saving me last night.”

The chubby guard had come. So arrogant, he’d expected me to go out with him. He didn’t have a chance since my uncle was there to face him for me.

“I guess I scared the hell out of him, huh?” Uncle ??t chuckled. “Bet he won’t return.”

“I’m glad.” I smiled. “But Uncle, please be careful. Grandma said those who dare to challenge the authorities are imprisoned—”

“That guy and the authorities? No way. He’s just a prick trying to scare people. Excuse my foul language.” My uncle shook his head. “They wouldn’t dare touch me though. We veterans with our big mouths.”

I drank my water slowly, trying to sort out the jumble in my mind. “Uncle, after my father gave you the bird, you didn’t see him again? You didn’t hear from him at all?”

“No. I’m sorry, H??ng. The battlefields were vast, you know. I didn’t run into Thu?n, Sáng, or your mother either.”

“I’m sure Mama and Uncle Sáng will come see you tomorrow. They’ll be so happy you’re finally home.”

“Happy? You think they’ll be happy seeing me like this?”

“Things will get better, Uncle.”

He laughed, his laughter one of the saddest sounds I’d ever heard. “For months, I’d been thinking . . . that I shouldn’t come home at all. That I couldn’t face my friends and family like this, that I couldn’t burden those I love.” He looked up at the window, above which a wedge of the moon was suspended in the black sky.

“Please, Uncle.” I fought back tears. “We’ll take care of you.”

He slumped down in his wheelchair.

“Uncle, I was just hoping . . . that you’d tell me about your trip south and how you met up with my father.”

“Now?” He glanced up at the clock, which showed two a.m. “It’s a long story. Don’t you have school tomorrow?”

“Uncle, please. I’ve waited so long for news about my father. I need to imagine how it was for him.”

“I need a real drink.” Uncle ??t eyed the cabinet. “Too bad I emptied the whole thing last night.”

“Ha, wait a second.” I jumped up. Rummaging the cabinet, I held up the bottle, now full. “Grandma bought it last night . . . after you’d gone to bed.” I giggled. “She knew you might need it.”

“My old Mama,” chuckled my uncle. “She’s someone special.”

UNCLE ??T IGNORED the cup I brought him and drank straight from the bottle. He bent his head for a long while. And then he began to talk. Now, thinking back, I realize how hard it must have been for him to dredge up these memories, trying to help the niece who searched for her father in her uncle’s journey south.

“Yes, you were just a little girl when it all began,” he said. “Back in 1968, an urgent order came for all men to enlist. Grandma tried all she could to stop us from going, but we had no choice. Sáng was just fourteen then so he didn’t have to go yet, but your father, Thu?n, and I were drafted.

“We were taken to a training camp at Ba Vì Mountain. Each of us had a knapsack to be filled with rocks. Each knapsack had to weigh at least twenty kilograms. We spent weeks climbing the mountain with the knapsack. Up and down, down and up, every single day. We practiced climbing during the night as well. Little did we know that we were preparing for the toughest walk of our lives.”

Uncle ??t shook his head. “We had to walk to the battlefields, more than a thousand kilometers away. Our mission was to wipe out the Americans and their ally, the South Vietnamese Army. I hadn’t known this, but other countries such as Australia, South Korea, New Zealand, and Thailand also sent troops to fight with the Americans.”