Dawns soar into songs
When the schools on the mainland were temporarily closed to prevent the spread of the COVID-19 epidemic, there were still three classes opened to students on Truong Sa in the island communes of Truong Sa, Song Tu Tay and Sinh Ton (in Truong Sa Island District, Khanh Hoa Province). On teacher Nguyen Ba Ngoc’s call from Song Tu Tay to the mainland, we heard the sound of waves and wind, as well as the passionate voice mixed with the hissing, soaring into melodies. It was from bamboo flutes performed by local children here. The island's two teachers, Nguyen Huu Phu and Nguyen Ba Ngoc, both teach and set up martial arts and bamboo flute clubs every day to ignite joy in their students. In the dawns full of confusion and anxiety on the mainland, sometimes my heart arouses concerns: Is the dawn on the strong waves here really peaceful and complete?
Teacher Nguyen Huu Phu, after sending many volunteer applications to teach in Truong Sa Archipelago, is now satisfied with his aspiration. He always cherishes the desire to stay with this place forever. He once gave me a manuscript of a collection of his poems titled "Nhung ky am dem” (Night Notations). Every long night, as the sound of waves drift into his dream, the teacher remembers his parents who passed away on the mainland: “Mẹ ơi Tết đã gần kề/ Nhưng con lại thấy bốn bề chơi vơi/ Mẹ ngồi bên gió bên trời/ Con tìm mòn mỏi ngàn khơi lối về” (Mommy, Tet is nearing / But I see four sides around only the loneliness / You’re now sitting by the wind and the sky / I am wearing out thousands of miles away seeking ways to home). The feelings for a certain lover also become distant and fluttering: “Những lúc nhớ về em/ Chỉ gặp nhau qua vài dòng tin nhắn/ Với người thân chỉ nói được đôi câu/ Chuyện riêng tư, anh gác lại mai sau” (The moments I miss you / We only meet through a few lines of messages / For the relatives, just saying a few sentences / For personal matters, I will leave them behind."... The teachers choose to send their thoughts in the night so that every dawn can be complete in the sound of their school children studying.
I have been fortunate enough to welcome the dawn on the island, a mark of solemnity and sacredness as a ritual. All of us on the ship got up very early, waiting to set foot on the first island after days floating at sea. The internal loudspeaker announced the schedule, then soared to the melodies: “Nơi anh đóng quân là một vùng đảo nhỏ/ Bên đồng đội yêu thương/ Chỉ có loài chim biển/ Sóng vỗ điệp trùng/ Quanh ghềnh trúc san hô” (The place where we are stationed is a small island area / Alongside our loving teammates / Only seabirds / And waves swashing/ Surrounding coral rapids". The first boat separated from the big ship, parting the wave that sparkled in the sun. Clouds and honey-coloured water seem to match and intertwine so that both the deep sweetness of honey and soaked salty in the water can be tasted just by watching. Dawn in the nation’s outpost is peaceful and beautiful in strict discipline and the highest responsibility of the army and islanders.
What moves me every time I step foot on each small island is the existent touching images of the inland hometown. Song Tu Tay Island has a herd of golden cows grazing and white storks flapping their wings when seeing strangers. An Bang Island is covered by rough sea, but when going deep into the island, it is like entering a rural village. Around a cool courtyard under the shade of several country almond trees, there are cosy houses that cover a kitchen area. The whole project is designed in a circular arc like a closed arm in front of a romantic coconut tree like a curvy line. That is on an island, while on other reefs and the DK1 Rig the homeland still exist in its own way. The doorways on reefs have no bars and are sealed all year round, both against salt vapor corrosion while meeting the regulations on duty. However, that narrow doorways silently preserve the memories of soldiers’ youth. They grow cacti and bonsai into each can of soft drink, as well as polishing seashells to bring out the yellow beeswax colour to display them next to their diaries and autograph books. Life is hard at the DK1 Rig, but soldiers stationed there still take care of every orchid, lemon and kumquat tree, while making flower baskets, paper rabbits and seashell necklaces as gifts for their parents, wives, children and lovers.
All the spirit and sentiment from the army and people, wherever they are, are for the Fatherland’s unity in one love, leaving behind the difficulties and hardship to make the silhouette of the homeland exists right from the moment when the new day comes in the nation’s faraway outposts. This is the silent and relentless effort of those willing to sacrifice their personal happiness for the country and their compatriots. In the most extreme conditions, deep down in their hearts, they are still rustic and natural to sacrifice.
Returning home in "turbulent season"
Transfer Tet gifts to the DK1-10 Rig. (Photo: Tran Thanh)
This year, Senior Lieutenant Nguyen Viet Tuong, who works on Sinh Ton Island, is allowed to take leave to visit his home. In the complicated COVID-19 developments, he underwent quarantine according to regulations, so from the time his ship landed to the moment he got home, it lasted for almost a month. As soon as he arrived at his alley, when he heard that his father was sick, he immediately came to hospital to take care of him. When his father was well, it was also time for Tuong to say goodbye to his parents, wife and children and return to his mission. Having enlisted at the age of 19, up to now, Tuong has 17 years working in Truong Sa. Tuong and Thom – his wife – live in two neighbouring communes. They met each other on the occasion of his leave and fell in love, and two years later they got married. During those two years, they had met exactly ... twice – once getting acquainted, and once again on their wedding day. Their love is extended and enhanced by... mobile phones. Their two sons were both born during his short time leave for training. For the first time as a mother, Thom’s tears kept falling, pitying herself because she was not with her husband. When their second child was born, Thom was in a difficult delivery. Struggling for days, she could only hear her husband's voice on the phone mixed with the sound of waves and winds in the distance. It’s touching when recalling a few verses he wrote to his girlfriend in the past, now his wife: “Đảo nhỏ canh khuya ca gác đã tới rồi/ Xin chào em, và mong ngày gặp lại/ Đừng để phong ba có một lần nghi ngại/ Gió đất liền đâu phải gió Trường Sa...” (On my little island, the late-night watch has arrived / Goodbye, and hope to see you again / Don't let any vicissitude makes a doubt on us/ As the wind on the mainland is not the Truong Sa wind).
Tuong's parents, wife and children live in the suburbs of Hanoi. When his house was small or when it was more spaciously renovated, its most solemn place always hung a large lantern, a special gift Tuong and his teammates gave to his children in the Mid-Autumn Festival 2016. At that time, his first son, four years old, had only met his father twice, and his second son was nearly a year old but had never met him once. Hearing his children on the phone wishing to have a Mid-Autumn lantern from his remote island, he decided to make a small gift in the nostalgia. The light frame was made from meticulous dried thin bamboo bars, taking advantage of the bamboo drifting to the island. Colour paper was not available, so some of Tuong’s teammates on their missions ashore bought and then sent to the island on other ships. The whole island suddenly bustled, together making lantern. They drew funny shapes while imagining how the children who receive the gift would be surprised and shout happily. After that, through delegations and ships visiting the island, they in turn treasured and sent to each other until the gift arrived at the final address. On holidays, Lunar New Year (Tet) festivals or when his house hosting guests, the lantern is a pride for the whole family to share stories about the sea soldiers. Despite many difficulties, soldiers like Senior Lieutenant Nguyen Viet Tuong still find themselves lucky. In the middle of the "turbulent season", with the efforts of the entire society and many forces in the army, he was still reunited with his family to care for his sick father, soothe the distress of his children seeing their father being away for so long, and share a part of his young wife's hardship ... Tuong said that in his remote island, a new spring starts with so much expectation and hope. The challenge never ends, but human love, endurance and intense aspiration will make endless springtime.
At the nation’s sacred outposts, there is a "tree" to welcome spring that has never appeared on the mainland. Those are the branches of tree heliotrope, thorns and sea poison tree which are attached with handcrafted peach blossoms and yellow apricot into a "multiple regional tree". The ships on duty when visiting such islands to deliver Tet gifts are also given such special trees, depending on the islands’ particularities. Sinh Ton Island presents carefully pruned thorns, Song Tu Tay Island presents strong and soaring tree heliotrope branches, while Truong Sa Island presents a solid, full of vitality sea poison trees... Peach blossoms and yellow apricots are bustling in every drawer, making soldiers cheerfully attach them to each tree branch. Sometimes, in more prosperous manner, they receive orchids or kumquats sent from all the North, Central and South. The hometown is far away, but it's also close, like a sobbing beat in each chest.
