I own nothing of this. Please support the original. It's just that I saw that a lot of countries have their myths and fairytales and stories translated into other languages for people to read and Vietnam doesn't have any stories which have been translated and posted (or printed and sold) somewhere a lot of people know, except maybe 'Kiều Story', pretty sure that one's famous enough though probably still not that famous. So I thought why the heck don't I translate them? And I did... Well, am doing unless you're reading this some time in the future when I will have already marked this book as complete.

Now, you might be wondering why I didn't start with myths and legends, specifically, the one in which the world or at least the country is created. Well, the answer is that this is one of the stories I have to study for the entrance exam so this is a form of revision. Sorta. The story itself it's pretty good, too. Also, it's about the Vietnam war so it isn't as far from now as the creation of Vietnam is. Also, this is just the version in my Literature text book so there are a couple parts that were cut out. Whenever you see [...] means that there was a part in the original story that was cut out.

Due to things like tradition, culture, lack of better words,... there are some parts I think will need to be further explained. I numbered those part. Please check the notes at the end of the story for a better understanding.

~~~~~~~~~

We had three people. Three girls. We live in a cave at the bottom of the hill. The road runs in front of the cave, pulls up the hill and goes somewhere, far! The road is full of craters, red & white mixed. There are no green leaves on the sides road. Only the burned tree trunks remains. The trees were lying all over the place. Big rocks. Some rusty, mended and distorted gas tanks or cars lie in the soil.

Our job is to sit here. When the bombs explode, we run up, measure the volume of land to fill the bomb pit, count the unexploded bombs and, if necessary, we dispose of those bombs. They called us the roadside scout. The name which suggested our will to do the heroic. Therefore, the work is not simple. We are always bombed. Sometimes we crawl to higher ground only see two eyes sparkling. Laughing, our teeth seemed to flash in white, in contrast to our dirty faces. At that time, we called each other "the dark-eyed monsters".

The unit seriously takes care of us. If there's ever anything, they say "Let the scouts do it, they have quite a lot of free time."

That is understandable. The unit is usually on the road at sunset. And most likely works all night.

And we run on the high grounds during daytime. But running on the high grounds during daytime is not a game. Death is not a joker. He lurks inside the bombs. I have still have a wound in my thigh that has yet to be fully healed. Of course, I did not go to the military hospital. Everything has its own charm. There is no place like this: The fuming land, the dazed air, the planes flying away. Nerves so tight, hearts beating without rhythm, legs running while knowing that there are still many unexploded bombs around. They may explode right now, or they may do later. But they will explode... Then when all is finished, turning to look at the road again, exhaling and running back to the cave. While the outside is above 30 degrees, going back into the cave is like going to another world. The cool shakes the whole body immediately. Then go drink water in from a cup or a canteen. Stream water mixed with some sugar. Then lie on a humid background, eyes narrowing lazily and listen to music from the small semiconductor radio that always has a full battery. You can listen, can think about random things...

Looks like we're about to launch a big campaign. Every night the cars run constantly on the road. At night, we sleep. But not these nights. Everybody was climbing up the key points, holding shovels, saying some funny sentences with some certain driver. Fun. It's kinda sad for the one who has to stay inside the cave to watch the phone.

It is noon. It is strangely quiet. I sit on the rock and sing softly. I love to sing. Often just remembering certain beat and then singing some made-up lyrics. My made-up lyrics seem disorderly and silly to the point it surprises me as well, sometimes I crawl out laughing alone.

I am a Hanoi girl. Humbly speaking, I'm an okay girl. (1) Two thick braids, relatively soft, a high neck, proud like the bell of a lily. And my eyes, the drivers say: "You have a sight that seems to run far!" (2)

I don't care how far it goes but I like to look at my eyes in the mirror. They are long, brown, usually narrowed as if the sun was in them.

For some reason, the gunmen and the drivers usually asked me how I was doing. Greeting or writing long letters sent to the line, doing as if we were thousands of miles apart, although we can greet each other face to face daily. I do not care that much. When the girls gather and speak with some good soldier, I usually stood away, folding my arms in front of my chest and looking away, lips tightening. But that's just me trying to be like a high class noble. Honestly, in my mind, the most beautiful, intelligent, brave and noble are the ones in military uniform with stars on their hats.

[...]

- So, let's get started, shall we?

- What? - I ask, surprised. I had sung until just now. Singing and thinking about random stuff.

Nho, rolls the pillow and quickly puts it in the bag. Thao looked out the door. Indeed, there are scout aircrafts. Life here taught us what silence really is. The silence from morning till now is not normal. That non-normality (3) is coming. The sound of the scouting aircraft ringing. The sounds of jets following behind. Those two sounds mixed together, pouring into the human ear a sense of discomfort and tension.

- They're coming soon! - Nho turns away from us, puts on the iron helmet. Thao took the biscuits in her bag, chewing freely. When knowing that the upcoming will not be smooth, she is calm to the point that it is infuriating. But upon seeing blood, leeches she closes her eyes, face turning purple. Her undershirt are all embroidered many colors (4). She also usually trims her eyebrows, trimming them as small as a toothpick. But when working, she is not to be messed with:  she's determined and daring.

Daily occurrences: aircrafts shrieking, bombs exploding. Exploding on high grounds, about 300 meters from this cave. The land vibrates under our feet. Towels on the wire also vibrate. Everything, like having fever. The smoke rises, and the cave's entrance is covered. No clouds and no sky could be seen.

Thao holds the ruler in my hand, swallowing a delicious piece of biscuit:

- Định stay at home. This time, they dropped less, two are enough.

She pulls Nho by her sleeve, carrying the shovel over her shoulder and walking out.

I do not argue with her. She's in charge. Time began to tighten up. And so does my brain. What had passed, what is coming... are no longer significant. What's interesting, if my friends do not come back? The phone rings. The staff sergeant asked the situation. I say harshly on the machine:

- The scout has not returned!

I don't know why I was so harsh. Another round of bombs. Smoke flies into the cave. I cough and feel my chest tighten. The high grounds are now really empty. There are only Nho and Thao. And bombs. And I sat up. And the turrets on the other side of the hill. The turrets are firing. The gunfire on the ground is so effective. There is nothing more lonely and scary when the bombs screamed around yet you hear no answer from the ground. With just the sound of one rifle firing, people also find immense protection in their presence(5). It feels as if you have a very strong defense... No longer able to do nothing but wait in worry, I run out for a bit. Seeing nothing but bomb smoke. I am worried. Suddenly, the high point next to ours sounded the sound of a 12mm7. Great, the battalion of engineers are here (6). They're here to support the turrets and us as well. I suddenly want to scream in happiness because of it. Around this deserted peak are so many people. Our turrets users, information brokers (7) and engineers are very much in love with us. As soon as we shoot a gun signaling for help, they will come running to help right away.

Half an hour later, Mrs. Thao entered the cave. Calm, exhausted and irritated, she does not look at me:

- Over a thousand block meters!

Then she sits down and drinks water in the canteen. Some drops of water run from her chin to her shirt, continuously like drops of rain. I reported back to the unit. The staff sergeant replied:

- Is that so?, thank you!

The staff sergeant uses a lot polite words like"thanks", "sorry", "good luck". He was young, thin, has arthritis, usually makes ca dao (8) for children's newspapers (9). His house is somewhere at the end of Lò Đức street.

Nho has just taken a bath in the stream. That part of the stream usually has slow bursting bombs(10). Still with wet clothes, Nho sits down, asking to eat candy. I reach inside my pocket, luckily there are still 2 lemon candies, which were covered with some sand, melting.

- Four slow bursts, there are few.

Nho puts her hands behind for support, leaning back. A round neck and small cute buttons. I want to hold her up. She looks light, cool like a white popsicle(11). The sergeant asks us if we needed more people. I say no. As always, we will solve everything.

- Great, thank you! - The staff sergeant thanks again - The entire unit is making way for a missile regiment through the forest. Haven't slept since morning. I have to go now. Keep up the good work.

So, we're going out to the road tonight. As always...(12)

Me, a bomb on the hill. Nho, the two on the road. Thao, one at the foot of the old underground barrier.

It's quiet to point it's frightening. The trees, or what's left of them, looking shabby. Hot land. Black smoke flows clustered in the air, covering everything in the far distance. Can the soldiers on the turrets see us? Most likely, they do have those binoculars that can capture the whole world in their eye. I approach the bomb. Feeling the eyes of the soldiers watching me, I'm not afraid anymore. I will not crouch. They don't like crouching when you can stand high and walk straight up there.

The bomb lay cold in a dead bush, one extreme buried in the ground. This other extreme has two yellow circles...

I used a small shovel to dig under the bomb. Hard soil. Some pebbles fly to the sides, guided by my arms. Occasionally the shovel blade touches the bomb. A sharp sound cuts my skin. I shiver and suddenly feel like I was doing it too slowly. Hurry up a little! Hot bomb shell. A bad sign. Either it's the heat from the inside of the bomb. Or the sun is heating it up.

Thao blows the whistle. It's been twenty minutes. I carefully dropped the pack of mine into the hole that had been dug, igniting it. Long, soft curved cords. I brush off the dirt and run to my hiding place.

Thao blows the whistle for the second time. I put myself behind the wall of dirt, looking at the clock. No wind. My heart beats irregularly. It is as though the only thing that is still calm, ignoring everything around is the hands of the clock. It goes, lively and softly, pressing on the infinite numbers. Over there, the fire is burning through the cord, going in the bomb...

I'm used to it. Everyday we have to dispose of the bombs five times. On days that there are less: three times. I think of the death. But it's a blurry, vague death. The main thing: is the mine going to explode, is the bomb going to explode? If not then how can I ignite the mine for the second time? I think of that, I also think: be careful, it would be pretty inconvenient if fragments of the bomb were to pierce into my arm. And sweat imbues my lips, salty, sand crunches inside my mouth.

But the bomb explodes. A weird sound, rings in my mind. My chest hurts, my eyes feel as if they were burning, it took a while to be able to open them. The chemical smell of the bomb powder makes me want to vomit. Three more explosions sounded. The dirt falls down like rain (13), silently fades in the bushes. The bomb fragments rip through the air, soaring invisibly above.

I brush off the dust, strain my eyes to look through the smoke and run after Thao. In order to get down to wait for Nho to return to the cave, she has to go pass my position. She smiles, her teeth white, her burn glistens, parachute still on her back, she runs to me. The wind purposely tries to take away the parachute but it's unsuccessful.

Thao trips, I help her up. But she breaks out, eyes widened, dulling as if no life was left. What is the matter? I don't understand. She pulls me by my arm, swooping down a hummock of dirt. Yes, a small hummock of dirt, a bit long, covered in the grey bomb powder.

- Nho, where were you injured? Where, my dear sister (14)?

She (Thao) chokes, her tears unable to come out. I dig Nho out, placing her on my thighs. Blood spills out of her arm, like streams (15), imbuing into the soil. She no longer resembles my white popsicle from earlier. Her skin bruising (16), eyes closed, clothes covered in dust. The bomb had flung up and exploded in the air. Her trench collapsed.

That's it!

I clean Nho with water which was previously boiled on the coal cooker. White bandages. The injury is not too deep, it doesn't reach the bones (17). But because the bomb exploded near her, Nho was stunned. I gave her an injection (18). Nho's eyes flutter, at ease, maybe it didn't hurt that bad. Thao is pacing outside, diffident as if she doesn't know what to do but needs to do something. She's scared of blood.

- Shall I call the unit?

Thao comes close when the Nho is lying, completely clean, on the bed made with large wooden sticks.

- She's not going die. The unit is still repairing the road. There's no reason to worry so many people. Oh, girl! Why are you such a worrywart?

- Well, normally, the outsiders feel more pain than the injured person.(19)

Thao turns to the cave's entrance, drinking water from the canteen. Nho rests an arm over her eyes. She also knows she should not drink water now (20). I make some milk in an iron cup (21).

- Add lots of sugar. Make it dense! - Thao says.

After drinking the milk. Nho sleeps. Nho scout aircrafts still dredge the silence of the mountains. Thao leans against the wall, her hands behind her back, not looking at me.

- Sing, Phương Định, whatever song you like the most, sing!

I like many songs. Marching songs the solders sing as they march. I like the soft, gentle quan họ songs. Like "Katyusha" by the Red Army. Like to to sit with my knees close to my chest, dreamily singing: "Về đây khi mái tóc còn xanh xanh..."(22) It is an Italian folk song, lyrical, rich, must be sung in a deep voice. Like them a lot. But I don't want to sing this time. I got angry with Thao, although, I understand, what feelings are reeling in her. She looks at Nho, fixing her collar, her lapel and her hair. She doesn't cry, she doesn't even like tears. In general, on this peak, we don't like tears. Whoever's tears flow when in the need for each other's toughness are seen as proof of a humiliation.

No one talks to anyone, but looking at each other, we see it in the each other's eyes.

Thao sings: "Đây Thăng Long, đây Đông Đô... Hà Nội..." (23) The rhythm is completely wrong, her voice: sour, she can't sing any song fluently. But she has three thick notebook, filled with song lyrics. Whenever free, she notes down song lyrics. She even passionately jots down my made-up lyrics.

There is a cloud outside the cave. And a bunch more. Then another bunch flies across faster and faster. The open sky outside of the cave turns black. The rain comes pouring. The sand flies. The wind picks up, knocking down the dried, burned branches. Leaves flies around frenziedly everywhere. As suddenly as an abnormal change in the human heart. In the forest, in this season, this usually happens. Rain. No, hail. (24) At first I didn't know. But then there was a knocking sound on the roof of the cave. There is something very sharp, tearing the air to pieces. Wind. And I feel pain, wetness in my cheeks.

- Hail! Parents! (25) Hail!

I run back in, putting in Nho's outstretched hand small pellets of ice. Run out again, frenzied.

[...]

Here, on this high point full of bombs, there is also hail. But my childish joy is blooming, passionate, filling my everything. No one has time to scold me. Thao is picking something on the ground. Definitely the ice pellets. Nho lifts herself up, lips slightly open:

- Come on, give me some, too.

But the hail is gone. It left as fast as it came. Why so fast? I suddenly feel dull, missing something (26) yet I can't say what. Obviously I do not miss the ice pellets. When the hail is over then it is over. Though I remember something, perhaps my mother, the window, or the big stars in the city sky. Yes, maybe those... Or the trees, or the circular arch of the theater, or ice cream ladies pushing carts full of ice cream, kids eagerly circling around. The asphalt road at night, after the summer drizzle seemed to widen, lengthen, reflecting the lights making it glitter like a river with black water. The lights on the square sparkling like stars in the fairy tales about fantasy lands. The flowers in the park. The balls which the kids kicked remorselessly in the corner of the street. The cries (27) the ladies who sell sticky rice, with mủng (28) on their heads.

Alas, maybe be all that. Those things so far away... And suddenly, after a hail, they swirled like waves in my mind...

[...]

~~~~~~~~~

Oh my god, that took way longer to translate than I had previously expected. Why did that take so long?

In case you're wondering, Thao is the oldest, then Định and Nho is the youngest. It was really easy to see that in the original thanks to the vast amount of pronouns the Vietnamese language has. Also, regarding Phương Định's name, Phương is her middle name and Định is her first name. Her surname? I have no idea. The part in my book never stated it. Their ages? Well, like most Vietnamese soldiers during the Vietnam War, they are somewhere around 15 to early 20s. And they volunteered to go and fight to free the South unite the country.

And now, the explanations:

(1) Does she sound a bit to prideful? Yes. But she has all the rights to be so. In those harsh conditions created by the ongoing war, she still manages to look beautiful while not many others manage to do the same. And it's not like she can bring beauty products to the fricking battlefield.

(2) It's one of the ways Vietnamese people compliment each other's eyes... It doesn't really translate well to English... Like, not at all.

(3) I could have used 'strangeness' instead of that made-up word but I don't feel like it would really work, especially when taking the previous sentence into account.

(4) Thao added those embroiders herself.

(5) As in the sound of the rifle belonging to her allies.

(6) The original words were 'công binh'. I looked it up and the Internet said it was 'engineers'. I'm still not completely convinced, though.

(7) I feel like there's a word for the army officers who gather information but I couldn't find it on the Internet so I used the closest word I could think of and that was 'information brokers'.

(8) There's no word I could find so I used the original Vietnamese ones. 'Ca dao' are like short poems and songs that people came out with a long time ago. Their content varies from complaining about the horrible lives and mocking bad people to admiring the good people and passing experience.

(9) They are like normal newspapers but they're filled with poems, stories and pictures instead of news like normal ones. No, really, that's it.

(10) Once again, I blame the lack of words. Those words didn't feel right but that's the closest I could get. The original said they're bombs which take quite a while (a long time) to explode.

(11) That what Lê Minh Khuê wrote. My teacher said this comparison was made because Nho just came back from bathing so she was cool and fresh like a popsicle. I know sometimes literature gets really weird when translated into another language but I already thought it was weird in the original. Then again, this was from like 2 generations ago so maybe people thought differently?

(12) I think she meant 'As we always do everyday even though we work during the day and not at night.'

(13) L.M.K  actually used a Vietnamese word to describe the sound of multiple small things (usually drops of rain) when she described the dirt falling in the original. That's why I wrote 'the dirt falls down like rain'.

(14) After such a long time together, they're basically sisters in all but blood.

(15) She was bleeding a lot but not enough to be compared to rivers. So, I used streams.

(16) In the original, it said that her skin was turning blue or green (I'm not sure since both those colors in Vietnamese are 'xanh', just different 'xanh's) but when I searched the symptoms of blood lost online, the only things that happen to the skin was paling and bruising so I guess she meant bruising.

(17) The original said that it only reached the soft part so I guess that the writer meant it didn't reach the bone.

(18) Yes, I know that it was previously stated that she didn't go to med school but back then, every Vietnamese soldier must know some basic medical treatment. So, when they were injured and had to take cover, they didn't wait for a medic to come running to treat them, they fricking did that themselves and went back fighting again. Though I think if the injury was somewhat serious, the medics still came.

(19) It's kinda like when people die. Usually the ones left behind feel more pain.

(20) Their water was mixed with sugar. Pretty sure you shouldn't have sugar when you're bleeding.

(21) Powder milk.

(22) I decided to keep the Vietnamese translated lyrics because she most likely doesn't Italian and was singing the Vietnamese version. In case anyone wants to know what the lyrics are: 'Come back here when the hair is still black...' I know that I just said earlier that 'xanh' means green or blue but Vietnamese people also use 'xanh' to describe black hair. Why? I honestly have no idea why we do that.

(23) The lyrics means: 'Here Thăng Long, here Đông Đô... Hà Nội...' Thăng Long, Đông Đô and Hà Nội are places in northern Vietnam.

(24) The original would actually be translated to 'Rain. But hail.' because, in Vietnamese, hail is 'mưa đá' which could be translated word by word to 'ice rain'.

(25) It's an Vietnamese exclamation which doesn't translate well into English. I could have changed it to another expression like 'Hallelujah' but back then, we didn't have that. It came in way later.

(26) Again, lack of better words. The original word 'tiếc' means something along the lines of 'You really want something that you don't have anymore back'. Not exactly 'miss' but it's close.

(27) 'Cries' like the the ones by the criers back in old Western countries. But they are trying to sell things instead of announcing news.

(28) These things. The ladies who sell sticky rice put the packets of sticky rice in them.

Originally, I intended to translate another story I had to study for the exams but this took too long so the next chapter (whenever that comes out) will be the myth about how Vietnamese people came to this word.