Martyr Phạm Khắc Duyến (died on March 17, 1975).
Written to his father on January 1, 1975, from Vĩnh Linh, Quảng Trị.
It must be really cold up there now, right? With all this rain, the roads must be so muddy. You're getting older, and working in such weather must be terribly hard. Are you in good health? If you fall ill, it would be such a misfortune for us. I know you’ve devoted your entire life to the Party, to us, and to the nation. I always remind myself that I must carry out my duty well, to be worthy of you and everyone at home who is working day and night.
As a soldier on the front lines, I know there will be many hardships and sacrifices. But my sacrifices are nothing compared to those who came before us - so many who laid down their lives for the revolutionary cause. Even so, I am proud to offer this small contribution - both mine and our family’s - to the nation and our people. I’ve only just arrived here, but already I feel I understand our people, our land, and our country even more deeply than ever before. Do you know, Father? I’m standing on Highway 1, looking out on bomb craters stretched across the land. This tiny piece of land in Vĩnh Linh seems to prohibit any life. And yet, the truth of our country is becoming clearer day by day: no bomb, no force can break us, nor divide our homeland or stop the surging revolutionary tide of our people.
It is truly a privilege to be part of this campaign - to witness the heroic places of our nation. I've crossed bridges, passed through legendary crossroads and villages. Our trucks snuck through bomb-cratered paths, while the green of new life began to emerge on either side. Youth volunteer brigades work tirelessly to rebuild roads for the convoys. I’ve walked through the central land of our country, where I imagine your own footsteps once touched the villages and trails. I crossed the Lam River, saw the Hồng Lĩnh Mountains, went over Đèo Ngang, and swam in the seas of Central Vietnam. From the top of Đèo Ngang, the scenery below looked like a masterpiece painting. The winding road below sparkled with the headlights of military trucks, like a moving city. The sea stretched endlessly, blending with the sky. Waves crashed with a whispering roar, spraying white foam. Clouds wrapped around the mountains like flowing silk. I crossed the Gianh and Nhật Lệ rivers, visited the female militia unit that shot down six warships, and went boar hunting in Quảng Bình.
Now I sit on a white sand dune, behind me the sea and whispering casuarina trees, looking out at the strategic road. Convoys stream past like shuttles in a loom, carrying countless soldiers, weapons, and supplies for the South. Here, the strength of our forces and the optimism of the revolution are clearer than ever. We’re eating well, fully supplied. We’ve begun living under full “Regime B” now - mostly canned and dried food - so we really crave fresh greens. Every day, we forage for wild vegetables to make soup. We might need to march for several days on foot due to the heavy rains and poor roads. The people here are unbelievably good-hearted and resilient, even poorer than the North due to constant war, yet they give everything they can to support us. Some even dismantled their own homes to make way for roads. There are rarely homes without soldiers staying over. People remain on high alert, militias armed like regular troops, with strong combat skills. Just recently, they captured a commando group! I’m always surrounded by the love of the people, my comrades, and fellow soldiers - so please don’t worry about me.
Tết is coming. Has our family prepared anything yet, Father? This New Year brings so much hope. I wish I could come home to celebrate with you. But for my duties, I can’t help you or sit with you to wrap bánh chưng and welcome the New Year. I wish you a new year full of health and success. Please send my greetings to all our relatives, uncles, aunts, and to Nguyên and Hùng as well!”
