I shuddered. “You must have been afraid, Uncle?”

“Not really, our spirits were high. If we didn’t fight back, we’d be bombed to dust and our North taken over. Before we started our journey, your father, Thu?n, and I got separated into different companies. Thu?n told me that as we’d survived the Land Reform, nothing could kill us—we were invincible. Your father joked that upon our return, he’d hold a joint wedding for Thu?n and me. He’d seen how much our girlfriends—Thu and Nhung—wept as they saw us off.

“We hugged each other so tightly as we said good-bye. We weren’t told exactly where we were heading.”

Uncle ??t stopped speaking. I was afraid it was too difficult for him to continue, but he cleared his throat.

“The North Vietnamese Army didn’t have many cars, trucks, or trains, you know, and enemy bombs were targeting the roads. So it was better to walk through jungles and forests, climbing over the Tr??ng S?n mountain range. In fact, hundreds of thousands of Northern soldiers went south this way, forcing a network through jungles, now called the H? Chí Minh Trail.

“I was told it’d take six months to walk, and we each had to carry many things—clothes for all types of weather, medicine, bandages, a hammock, a fold-up spade, sandals, cooking and eating utensils. . . . On my left shoulder I carried five kilograms of rice in my ru?t t??ng, a long bag made out of cloth. On my right was an AK-47, an assault rifle supplied by the Russians. Around my waist, I had two hundred rounds of ammunition and a canteen of water.”

Uncle ??t closed his eyes. “Winter had set in when my comrades and I started our walk. It was wet and cold. The Army had a slogan for us: ‘?i kh?ng d?u, n?u kh?ng khói, nói kh?ng ti?ng.’” Advance without a trace, cook without smoke, talk without sound.

“Enemy planes were trying to find us, so we had to keep our movements secret. We walked at night and hid during the day. We camouflaged ourselves with green leaves and small branches so as to blend into the surroundings. Our stoves were deep holes that had to be covered and connected to long vents to dissipate the smoke.”

“It sounds terribly dangerous, Uncle.”

“Yes, it was. Walking in total darkness was a big challenge. It would be fatal to get lost. When a new day came, we set up camp and rested. Whenever I sat down, I found leeches clinging to my skin.”

I shivered. I had read about those parasites, which sucked so much blood, they swelled up and became round balls.

“Bombing raids were frequent, so whenever we stopped, we had to find or dig shelters before we could string our hammocks between trees. Each hammock had a piece of canvas to shield us in case it rained, which was often. The canvas was important, let me tell you. It’d wrap a soldier’s body after he died; it’d be our shroud.

“In the beginning, for every five walking days, we had one to rest. Rest days were something to look forward to. If I wasn’t on duty, I could sleep, hunt, fish, or gather edible plants. On rest days, our captain would send a squad of twelve soldiers to an army camp nearby to bring back food supplies for the next five walking days. Together with the Russians, the Chinese Communists supported our fight against the Americans, so we also got food from the Chinese.”

I closed my eyes and tried to picture my father fishing at a stream deep inside the jungle.

“But our bodies weren’t made for the harsh jungle conditions, H??ng,” continued my uncle. “One month into the walk, many of my comrades were falling ill. I was exhausted. Luckily, spring arrived to save me. Flowers burst out their brilliant colors. Sunlight was as gold as honey. The air smelled of life, rather than death and explosives. Birds, the same type that your father carved as a gift for you, sang.”

“You met my father then?”

“No, I first met s?t rét—malaria. Bouts of fever hit me, yet I felt so cold, I shivered uncontrollably. My bones seemed to crumble under me, I’d never experienced such pain. I couldn’t walk and had to lie on my hammock by the roadside, waiting and waiting to get better.

“At first, when someone fell ill, the soldiers in his company would carry him forward. But my comrades were so weak, too—those that were left. There was a clinic where the men in my unit wanted to take me, but I refused because it was too far away. I told them I’d soon recover and catch up. So my comrades left me food, water, medicine, and said their good-byes.”

“Uncle, if you’d let them bring you to the clinic, my mother could have been there.”

“She hadn’t joined the Army at that time yet, H??ng. Do you know where she was stationed?”

I shook my head. “She hasn’t told us much. She just said that she’d gone through terrible things. Things she doesn’t wish to happen to anyone.”

“Doctors had one of the most dangerous jobs on the battlefields, H??ng. They needed to find ways to conceal their clinics from enemy planes. Their job was not only to save lives but also to protect patients. Whenever the enemy attacked, they had to move patients down to shelters or over mountains to set up new clinics. Sometimes they even had to pick up their guns to fight.”

That stopped me. I hadn’t thought about this. I swallowed. “Uncle, do you think my mother could have delivered babies in the battlefields?”

“Why do you ask?”

“I’m just . . . just curious.”