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Lost in the capital

Bao Ninh

Last updated: 16:42 - September 3, 2005

I’ve travelled extensively throughout my life, but I’ve only found my way to Hanoi on several occasions.So, apart from Hoan Kiem Lake, Long Bien Bridge, and Hang Co Station, I know very little about thecapital. Nevertheless, whenever I close my eyes and conjure up the paths I took there in my past, Ican always see them clearly, even if I don’t know exactly where they lead. The images of this strangecity are engraved in my mind with the same richness as my childhood home, although most of themcame from a single day. But these memories are only the sad melodies recorded by my heart in myyouth, during the war, a period of life flowing into the past. These echoes will resound forever like thepats of raindrops on the window-panes of my house, the whistle of the wind through a bamboo cluster and the rustle of falling leaves on my village path.Since that fateful day, more than two decades have passed. The Hanoi of those war days and theHanoi of today are now worlds apart.***On that day, I drove my division’s commander from the Quang Tri battle front to the capital so he couldattend a secret meeting at the headquarters of the general staff. When we reached Hanoi, the city wasstill embroiled in the war, a life-and-death struggle for the city-dwellers. Instead of returning to thebase, I asked the colonel if I could take a short trip downtown to hand out the letters of my comrades-in-arms to their families and perhaps wait for replies. I just had to be back to headquarters by H-hour.It was a cold, wet Christmas day, and I walked through the grey drizzle into the heart of the capital.The roofs and trees were drenched with rainwater. Vehicles passed by swiftly and pedestriansquickened their steps home.At first I thought I had nothing to worry about, even though I didn’t know the addresses on the letters inmy satchel. I only needed to find one house, and then that family could help me find the rest, I assuredmyself. But things were not so simple. It was as if every house in the city was boarded up, and I had toseek out each house on my own. There was never anyone around to write a response. By the time Idispatched the last note, the streets were dark and eerily silent. I asked a passerby the way to VongStreet. The enthusiastic militiaman accompanied me a short distance along a long deserted road tothe first crossroads, and then pointed me in the right direction. "Just go ahead and you can’t miss it,"he said, moving his finger along the train tracks that extended as far as I could see.With my hard military hat pulled far over my eyes and my collar wrapped tightly around my neck, I setout through the thin veil of drizzle. The two wet rails were like a trail crawling out of the forest into ashanty town. The wartime city was deserted and gloomy, and seemed to hang over an abyss. I walkedand walked, feeling so alone and increasingly concerned. At night, the streets had no lights,pedestrians or restaurants. I was hungry. The joints of my limbs felt stiff and the fever I had acquiredon the battlefront grew worse. I began counting my steps so I could drag myself a few kilometresfurther. I was so lost in my thoughts, I almost ran into a deserted tram halted in the middle of thestreet. I could go no further.I walked over to the sidewalk covered with eaves. I leaned against a closed door and dropped downonto the step like a block of ice. I was trembling terribly, and I couldn’t stop my teeth from chattering.My malaria had gotten so bad I thought I might die on the doorstep.Over my head, the torn corrugated roofs were vibrating violently. A strong wind blew rain at me fromall angles. I tried to stand up but my legs felt numb, and as I stumbled, the door behind me flung openand I lost consciousness completely.

When I opened my eyes I found I was inside a dim room. I smelled camphor. When I moved slightly awooden bed squeaked under my back. I felt a blanket wrapped around me and a pillow under myhead. The room was warm and dry. A bed lamp close to me shed a dim yellow light. The only soundwas the "tick tick tick" of a wind up clock.I sat up suddenly when I realised I missed my deadline to return."Oh my dear!" A soft female voice whispered. " You’ve regained consciousness. I was really worried."My heart was racing. I was so late. Who was this woman?"Where am I?" I asked."This is my house," answered the young lady. "You’re my special guest today."I turned towards her. She was sitting at the edge of my bed. Her face was half hidden in the dim light,but I could see clearly her bare shoulder and her long hair."You still have a slight fever. But this is good luck. When I first saw you on my doorstep, I was sureyou were done for.""Well, thank you. I must be going now. It’s so late. My leave’s run out," I stuttered."You’re too weak to go out now. It’s very cold outside and you’ll only get worse. Besides, your clothesare still very wet and you can’t put them on now. Give them some time to dry," she told me.I touched my chest and thigh. I was naked under that warm blanket!"I’m going to get some porridge for you from the kitchen," she said, getting up. "I put a clean militaryuniform under your pillow. I think it will fit," she added.She made her way out of the dim room. Tossing the blanket away, I got up. My body was still burningfrom the fever. I put on the dry uniform, which was fairly new, with a camphor smell. To my surprise, itfit me quite well. With the clothes on I felt more secure, although my whole body still ached.A few minutes later, the warm fragrance of hot porridge wafted into my room. The lady stepped in verysoftly. Putting a tray with a bowl of rice gruel on the table, she turned up the lamp."The rain has finally stopped," she said with a sigh.I silently watched the kind-hearted girl. Even though it was still dark in the room, I knew she must bebeautiful.All of a sudden, the sounds of a plane tore through the tranquil atmosphere. It felt as though it wasflying right over the roof. The girl snuffed the lamp."I think it’s gone," she whispered.No, that was only a prelude to an airstrike. It just started with that reconnaissance plane. Things mightget worse," I warned her.An alarm siren sounded loudly and my heart fluttered."B–52’s are approaching," a nearby loudspeaker warned the city. "The planes are only ninety to eightykilometres away.""Damn the American fliers!" I said. "They’re going to attack the capital."

"Another night under bombs and shells!" the girl cried."We must run to the shelter at once. There must be one very close by. Be quick!" I said."But can you stand the cold outside?" She asked.The danger was too great. My mouth dried up and my heart beat wildly. My intuition had never cheated me."But you must eat some hot porridge first. It’ll make you warmer to bear the cold," she insisted."No! Hot or cold doesn’t matter at the moment! There will be carpet bombings!""How do you know that?" She seemed surprised."My experience on the battlefield tells me so. Hurry! Go to the shelter at once!"She took my hand and led me out of the room. My tension had spread to her. She breathed hard. Thetapping of her wooden clogs grew faster and faster as we walked through a wet, narrow corridor before finding the door onto the street. The rain had stopped completely. The old tram that I hadalmost run into was still sitting in the street, abandoned, and personal shelters were lying open hereand there, waiting for last-minute refugees."Let’s go to the common shelter. It’ll be safer there," she urged me, breathing heavily. "These smallshelters are always full of dirty water. I’ve never been bold enough to climb into any of them," sheadmitted. "The common shelter’s over there."We walked straight ahead, against the wind. All was quiet. It seemed that everyone was underground.There were only two of us hurrying away, panic-stricken. That run took forever. All the shelters wecame across had been covered, but she could not run faster because of her wooden clogs. But it wastoo late anyway. We heard the sounds of A-A guns. Rockets darted into the dark sky with brilliant redtrails. Though my ears were useless now, my intuition told me that we were in danger. Bombs andshells would shower the capital.Suddenly, the ground under our feet shook violently and then a scalding draught struck my face andbomb steam poured into my throat.We were on the ground. The girl rolled over closer to me, looking for shelter. Her icy body pressedagainst mine. Her breath fell on my wet and cold face, and her tangled hair spread over my arms.Another cluster of bombs exploded on the other side of a nearby wall. Earth, stone and broken bricksfell around us. "We’ll die!" I exclaimed, hugging her tightly and waiting for my last breath. But deathreleased us, and we were silent.We remained there on the ground, hugging each other. I couldn’t move, but a moment later, shefidgeted and moved away from me.I helped her stand up. One of her sleeves was torn off. Her tousled hair covered her face. Withfrightened eyes, she clumsily looked for her clogs in bare feet. Thick smoke surrounded us, and all wecould smell was fire. The clouds were red. I heard several footsteps approaching, and then cries for help came from every direction. The street was suddenly in chaos. A group of people with shovels,hoes and stretchers ran by."Why are you just standing there? The shelters have collapsed and people are trapped," someoneyelled."Oh no! The common shelter was bombed. People must be buried alive," she cried.