Family friends and country Nguyen Thi Binh

Family, Friends and Country: memoir/Nguyen Thi
Binh

translated by Lady Borton

Published in English by Tri Thuc Publishing House
and Phuong Nam Book Co., Ltd.

Vietnamese version copyright © Nguyễn Thị Bình, 2015
English translation, introduction, and annotations copyright ©

Lady Borton, 2015
Preface copyright © Nguyên Ngọc, 2015

All rights reserved
All photographs courtesy of the author unless otherwise indicated.
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without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner



Introduction

She broke stereotypes. She captivated the world.

During the Việt Nam War, which is known in Việt Nam as the
“American War,” US leaders led those of us in the West to believe the
“Việt Cộng” were ignorant, barefoot peasants. Then, on November 4, 1968,
there appeared on the world stage at the Paris Conference on Việt Nam the
“Việt Cộng’s” official advance representative—a petite, demure woman of
startling elegance and presence in an áo dài, the Vietnamese traditional
dress that looks like a Western evening gown.

She spoke quietly, calmly, forcefully. The world listened. Her name was
Nguyễn Thị Bình, but this was not her “real” name.

So, who was she?

Now, at last, we can know.

*

**

Nguyễn Thị Bình (1927, birth name, Nguyễn Thị Châu Sa; first
revolutionary alias, Yến Sa) came from a family of patriots. Her maternal
grandfather was the famous and beloved patriot-scholar Phan Châu (Chu)
Trinh (1872-1926). Her father, also a patriot, worked for the French
administration as a surveyor, taking his family with him in the Mekong

Delta, where they lived on a boat. Later, the family moved to Phnom Penh,
Cambodia, where young Châu Sa studied in a French school. She was the
eldest child and close to her siblings, as she is today. Châu Sa excelled in
mathematics and sports; she competed in cross-country races and
basketball games (an American invention!).

Then the revolution and war intervened, as it did for all Vietnamese of
her generation. Mme. Bình, as she is called by many people both inside
and outside Việt Nam, never finished her baccalaureate. However, she
holds a “doctorate” from a “prestigious French institution” in the colonial
prison system for political activists.

The French and later the Americans thought they could repress
nationalism by arresting revolutionary patriots. Instead, their jails became
graduate schools, where political prisoners organized classes and shared
expertise. The curricula ranged from literacy training to the Chinese
ideographs in Tang Dynasty poetry, from basic numeracy training to
mathematics and physics, from the works of Victor Hugo, Marx, and Lenin
to those of Hồ Chí Minh.

In April 1951, the American-backed Sài Gòn authorities arrested “Yến
Sa” and held her in Catinat Detention Center. Like her brothers and sisters
in the Revolution, she was tortured. Political prisoners passed along
personal experiences on how to organize for the Revolution and how to
withstand torture if arrested. Writing now, many years later, Nguyễn Thị
Bình gives her readers a mini-lesson:

“I was cruelly beaten without stopping because an earlier arrestee had
broken down under torture and given my name. First, they tortured with
savage beatings, then by submerging us in water, then with electricity, then

— I wanted to die so they would finish... I was most worried about
breaking under torture and giving names, leading the enemy to arrest
others. I decided that I would accept whatever the enemy said about me,
but my one purpose was to say nothing else. After a time, the torturers saw
they could not wrest any information from me.”

Mme. Bình spent three years in Chí Hòa, the most infamous of the Sài
Gòn prisons. Political-prisoner “doctoral graduates” during the French
War and the American War learned how to be stalwart under the most
intense pressure imaginable. That lesson served them well in many
venues.

While at Paris, Mme. Bình was deputy head of the delegation from the
National Liberation Front (NLF) of South Việt Nam until the formation of
the Provisional Revolutionary Government (PRG) of the Republic of
South Việt Nam on June 6, 1969, whereupon she became the PRG foreign
minister and the head of the PRG delegation to the Paris Conference.

Henry Kissinger and his American colleagues at the Paris Conference
on Việt Nam (1968-1973) faced three key Vietnamese opponents—Lê Đức
Thọ (special advisor to the delegation from the Democratic Republic of
Việt Nam, the DRVN, or “North Việt Nam”), Xuân Thủy (head of the
DRVN delegation), and Mme. Bình. All three held “doctorates” from
“prestigious French institutions.”

In his introduction to the Vietnamese edition of Family, Friends and
Country, writer Nguyên Ngọc cautions readers not to expect new
information about the Paris Conference. However, Nguyên Ngọc was
writing for Vietnamese, who had seen or read many interviews with Paris

participants. In contrast, international readers will find much to learn from
Nguyễn Thị Bình, the only living signatory to the Paris Agreement.

*

**

International readers may be surprised to see that, on January 1, 1969,
the Vietnamese published Hồ Chí Minh’s “New Year’s Greetings,” with
President Hồ’s unshakeable two-step strategy. His New Year’s poem ran on
the Vietnamese newspapers’ front pages. Liberation Radio in the South
and Voice of Việt Nam in the North repeatedly promulgated the president’s
greetings. US leaders seem not to have paid much attention. Yet the
Vietnamese in both the former North and former South who participated in
the war’s “three arrows”—the interlocking political, military, and
diplomatic initiatives—can still recite the two-stage plan that President
Hồ crystallized in his quatrain’s second line:

“Fight so the Americans leave; fight so the puppets collapse.”

The Paris Agreement completed the first step in President Hồ’s strategy.
As Nguyễn Thị Bình writes, “We achieved a momentous victory. The
United States was forced to withdraw completely, while Vietnamese troops
remained on Vietnamese land.”

Family, Friends and Country answers many questions about deeper
levels of the Vietnamese two-stage strategy. Mme. Bình’s writing style is
subtle and fluid. It is easy to read this book quickly and miss important
points. For example, many Westerners wonder about the relationship
between the DRVN and PRG delegations at Paris. Nguyễn Thị Bình may be

the first Vietnamese writing for a general audience to state the relationship
clearly, but she does so briefly:

“Although two, we were one; although one, we were two. … The two
delegations were closely coordinated under one source of flexible, precise
guidance, which came from inside our country.”

The National Liberation Front had been established on December 20,
1960 as a neutral (neither overtly pro-communist nor overtly pro-
capitalist), all-inclusive organization of patriots to represent the people of
the South. The neutral stance allowed the NLF-PRG to participate and
subsequently to join the Non-Aligned Movement. Official neutrality also
fostered greater access to the international peace and anti-war movements.
Nevertheless, senior NLF-PRG leaders were Party activists. Their key
visionary was Hồ Chí Minh, who determined not only the overall NLF-
PRG strategy but also many of its subtleties.

Attentive readers will notice that Trần Bửu Kiếm (head of the NLF
delegation) and Nguyễn Thị Bình (head of the PRG delegation, which
replaced the NLF delegation at Paris) and not Xuân Thủy (head of the
DRVN delegation—the “North”) presented the Ten Points, Eight Points,
Seven Points, and Two Points in “successive diplomatic offensives.” The
two delegations’ shared goal was independence and freedom for South
Việt Nam and re-unification of the entire country. Thus, readers will notice
that Mme. Bình returned from a consultative visit in Hà Nội with the Ten
Points in hand.

DRVN delegation head Xuân Thủy—a journalist, newspaper editor,
poet, chess aficionado, and diplomat—was famous for his smile, dignified
bearing, and his genuine, perceptive charm. His subtlety kept the focus on

the NLF-PRG as representatives of the southern people. He would
gracefully and astutely use the Western custom of “ladies first” to
introduce the genteel representative of the “Việt Cộng” first, thereby
emphasizing the PRG position. Xuân Thủy could not have done this so
easily had the PRG delegation’s head been a man.

*

**

Việt Nam—a small country—faced a behemoth at Paris.

Hồ Chí Minh was a realist with many years’ experience living in the
West, including a year in the United States when he was in his early
twenties. President Hồ and his colleagues knew that to negotiate
successfully with the United States they must first draw world opinion
behind their cause.

American leaders, remembering that Việt Nam had recently fought a
war with France, may have thought Paris would give the United States a
site advantage at the negotiations. The opposite was true. The DRVN and
NLF were delighted with the choice of Paris, even though Paris was a long
distance from Hà Nội. Members of both delegations had many French
friends both officially and informally. On September 1, 1966, French
President Charles de Gaulle, speaking in Phnom Penh, had delivered his
famous policy statement urging American withdrawal. The French
government offered to host the Paris Conference and financially supported
the DRVN and NLF-PRG delegations with security and transportation.

In addition, France had an active Communist Party, which contributed
housing for the delegations, arranged sites for the private bi-lateral
meetings that the DRVN hosted, and supplied security personnel and
drivers. Overseas Vietnamese living in Paris provided tailored suits for the
men, custom-fitted áo dàis for the women, and home-cooked family meals
so delegates could savor ordinary family life with children. The overseas
Vietnamese also provided interpretation at public press events, although of
course they were never involved in any official or even informal
diplomatic meetings. Most important of all, the overseas Vietnamese
showed up en masse in front of Kléber International Conference Center,
waving DRVN and NLF-PRG flags.

Paris was the media capital of Europe and a perfect setting for the long-
term tactic of seeking international press coverage and widespread citizen
support from across the world for the Vietnamese cause in general and, in
particular, for President Hồ’s strategic Step One—American withdrawal.
The DRVN and NLF-PRG delegations each included a solid contingent of
journalists. Liberation Radio in the South telegraphed out to Hà Nội the
news of American offensives, atrocities, and bombing in the South. Each
week, a North Vietnamese envoy traveled overland from the center of the
country to Hà Nội, carrying news and photographic film about US
bombing in that region. Hà Nội then forwarded the latest news and
documentation from both the North and the South to Paris in time for the
Thursday post-conference briefings.

Delegation journalists wrote press releases, while Xuân Thủy and
Nguyễn Thị Bình concentrated on interviews with radio, TV, and print
journalists from all over the world, in addition to their Thursday briefings.
Overseas Vietnamese living in Paris sponsored their own press

conferences and provided additional interpreters. This complex, carefully
directed publicity galvanized world opinion in support of the DRVN and
NLF-PRG delegations’ shared cause. Such international exposure, which
was impossible in Hà Nội, was facilitated by the conference location in
Paris.

Nevertheless, the public-relations process was daunting and draining.

Family, Friends and Country offers an intimate view of Mme. Bình’s
apprehension when facing aggressive Western journalists. In addition, we
also now have the backstory for the thorny question of North Vietnamese
soldiers in the South. Nguyễn Thị Bình had received a simple yet
seemingly impossible directive:

“You must not say Northern troops are in the South. You must not say
Northern troops are not in the South.”

As one of the “long-haired warriors” in Paris, Mme. Bình had clear
marching orders. She tells us how she held her stance, parrying the
journalists’ fiercely repetitive, aggressive questions.

Now, too, we have the truth of the personal worries lying beneath
Nguyễn Thị Bình’s composure. She spoke about the US bombing of
civilians, hiding her anxiety when she did not know if her young son and
daughter had survived US bombs. She spoke about political prisoners,
concealing her personal agony: Very shortly after her appointment to
Paris, the US-backed Sài Gòn authorities arrested Mme. Bình’s younger
brother, Nguyễn Đông Hà, whom the authorities tortured and detained for
nearly seven years in Côn Sơn Prison’s “tiger cages.”

The French had secured rights to Côn Sơn Island south of Sài Gòn in
1783 but occupied it only in 1861. They began to turn the island into a
prison for political activists in 1862. In 1940, the French added 120 “tiger
cages.” Guards walking on the rebar roof threw lime down on the
prisoners. One cage usually held five prisoners. The cells’ dimensions of
1.45 x 2.5 meters meant two prisoners slept atop the other three.

Unlike American POWs captured in the South and in the North during
the US air war, Nguyễn Đông Hà was not released in accordance with the
January 1973 Paris Agreement; he and many other Vietnamese in the
South were not freed from the tiger cages until May 1, 1975, the day after
the war ended.

*

**

The DRVN and NLF-PRG’s shared strategy at Paris also included
“people-to-people diplomacy,” where individuals and groups seek to affect
policy. In Family, Friends and Country, Nguyễn Thị Bình describes a tête-
à-tête supper conversation with Hồ Chí Minh in Hà Nội. President Hồ
emphasized the importance of organizing people world-wide.

International readers will be impressed to see how much careful
thought, planning, and just plain good luck contributed to the success of
the NLF-PRG’s activities with the peace and anti-war movements in
Europe, Africa, Latin America, the former Soviet Union, China, and North
America, particularly the United States.

These efforts included the more formal activities with the Non-Aligned
Nations Movement. In those days, the NAM meetings were gatherings of
male heads of state and foreign ministers. One can imagine how the
entrance of a petite Asian woman in an elegant áo dài accented with a silk
neck scarf must have turned heads, causing senior NAM leaders to
whisper, “Who is that?”

Many international activists would have found these challenges
daunting, but the DRVN and NLF-PRG delegations’ commitment to their
cause was unshakeable. Mme. Bình’s skills and natural talents, all the
more remarkable for a woman at that time, made such commitment even
more effective.

*

**

As Nguyễn Thị Bình makes clear in the beginning of this memoir, she
came to maturity during the mid-late 1940s and early 1950s as a
community organizer of mass demonstrations in Sài Gòn. Now, for the
first time, we have in English an account of the French re-invasion of Sài
Gòn (with British and American backing) in late September 1945, three
weeks after Việt Nam’s Declaration of Independence. The perspective is
that of a young, idealistic, eighteen-year-old.

We are there with young Mme. Bình at the outset of the French War in
her efforts to persuade others to the cause, there with her in the mass
demonstrations, and there for her youthful “breaches of discipline,” which
exposed her undercover identity. Perhaps most surprising for Western
readers will be Mme. Bình’s first-hand account of the repression of

activists’ attempts to promulgate the contents of the 1954 Geneva
Agreement. Those arrested included the wealthy Sài Gòn lawyer and
activist, Nguyễn Hữu Thọ, later vice president of re-united Việt Nam.

For Mme. Bình, her later roles at Paris and in “people-to-people
diplomacy” were versions of her earlier community organizing writ large
on the world stage.

An unasked question remains. Who cast Nguyễn Thị Bình for this role?

It seems likely that only one person in the Politburo of the Vietnamese
Workers’ Party (now the Vietnamese Communist Party) had the depth of
vision and the breadth of experience to think of choosing a woman.
President Hồ Chí Minh had lived in New York and Boston during the peak
of the Women’s Suffrage Movement before World War I. After World War
I, he lived and worked in Paris. His earliest writings about women’s rights
appeared in 1922. During the mid-1920s, he pushed women’s rights in his
classes and writings for young revolutionaries.

Hồ Chí Minh knew that, regardless of political affiliation, overseas
Vietnamese esteemed Nguyễn Thị Bình’s maternal grandfather, Phan Châu
Trinh, as a great patriot, nationalist, and early Vietnamese advocate of
democracy. Phan Châu Trinh had mentored young Hồ Chí Minh during
their shared years in Paris from the late teens through the early 1920s.

From Family, Friends and Country, we know Hồ Chí Minh asked to
meet Nguyễn Thị Bình shortly after she “regrouped” from the South to the
North in accordance with requirements stipulated in the 1954 Geneva
Agreement. Mme. Bình met Hồ Chí Minh subsequently on various
occasions before the Paris Conference. President Hồ knew that Nguyễn Thị

Bình possessed the generous, open, and honest personality needed to win
over those holding different views. He would have known that her quietly
forceful and gracious presence as “Việt Cộng” representative would
challenge stereotypes and command attention whenever and wherever she
stepped on stage. He probably also realized he could find no southern
representative with a family heritage of greater resonance to encourage
support from overseas Vietnamese.

Thus, it is no wonder that Nguyễn Thị Bình is the Vietnamese
participant at Paris whom many people outside Việt Nam remember most
clearly.

*

**

After the war ended in April 1975, the VIth National Assembly met in
July 1976, drawing representatives from across the country to re-unite
North Việt Nam and South Việt Nam. Re-unification combined the PRG
and DRVN into the Socialist Republic of Việt Nam (the country’s formal
name today). In 1976, Nguyễn Thị Bình became minister of education for
re-united Việt Nam.

By 1976, Mme. Bình had become an experienced negotiator and
spokesperson; she was not only the most famous Vietnamese outside the
country but also, through her work with the Non-Aligned Movement, the
Vietnamese diplomat who had the deepest relationships with foreign
leaders. Thus, many foreigners and Vietnamese alike wonder why the
senior Vietnamese leadership did not select Mme. Bình to serve as foreign
minister of newly re-united Việt Nam.

The answer is simple: The times had changed. Việt Nam faced
incursions from the Khmer Rouge into southern Việt Nam, rumblings with
China on the northern border, and an intensive US embargo. Amidst those
external challenges was a momentous internal challenge that would be
crucial to the new nation’s future: re-uniting the country’s education.

The skills that had served Mme. Bình in Paris and her southern roots as
a granddaughter of one of Việt Nam’s most famous educators made her an
obvious choice for the daunting task of weaving two very different
educational systems into one. The Vietnamese people could not re-unite
into one country unless and until northerners and southerners shared the
same level of education. The low literacy rate in the former South
(compared with the high literacy rate in the North) and the lack of trained
teachers were huge obstacles. Creating a comprehensive and effective
educational system amidst internal political challenges and a stifling
bureaucracy was a huge assignment, to which she devoted a decade.

Subsequently, Mme. Bình worked again in “people-to-people
diplomacy.” Then, from 1992 until 2002, she served as Việt Nam’s vice
president, with responsibilities including State diplomacy, education,
health, and judicial reform. The chapters in Family, Friends and Country
describing State service in newly re-united Việt Nam are a manual written
in anecdotes for those who want to learn about assertive (but not
aggressive) relations across cultures, even in war (the greatest of cross-
cultural conflicts). They are also a guide for managing bureaucratic
tangles, conservatism, and obstinacy, always with an eye toward ethical
action.

Mme. Bình formally retired in 2002 at the age of seventy-five. She
notes that her years since “have been very busy, at times even busier than
before.” She worries:

“When will we have a society that is truly democratic, equal, and
cultured? It is as if these dynamics harass me. I cannot sit still. I must
continue to take a full part in life. … Perhaps it is my ‘fate’ from when I
was young: I want always to be deeply involved and committed in my
work. I’m not able and don’t know how to stand on the outside.”

These days, Mme. Bình cares as fiercely as ever about children and
adults suffering from the effects of Agent Orange and unexploded bombs
and mines left from the war. She holds strong positions on rights for
women and children. She travels often to domestic and international
conferences covering many issues. Yet her deepest commitment remains
to Việt Nam’s future. She worries that the Vietnamese educational system,
once among the world’s best in spreading limited resources to the most
students and adults, has become “seriously backward.” She adds:

“As long as I have an ounce of strength, I will voluntarily contribute
everything I can to the important and decisive issue of education.”

Indeed, here is a feisty activist in her late-eighties, who refuses to wait
in the wings. She still takes center stage. She is still petite and demure.
She still speaks quietly, calmly, forcefully.

The world still listens.

Lady Borton

Hà Nội, Việt Nam

Spring 2015

Preface

In the reader’s hands is a memoir by Mme. Nguyễn Thị Bình, former
vice president of Việt Nam, the country’s first woman foreign minister,
and head of the delegation of the Provisional Revolutionary Government
of the Republic of South Việt Nam at the Paris Conference (1968-1973).
The first thoughts of quite a few people when they pick up this book is
curiosity as they anticipate extraordinary stories about the author’s
participation in the famous negotiations that were the longest in the
history of diplomacy. One must say immediately that this particular wish
won’t be satisfied. However, do understand that this small book contains
many “extraordinary” events but of a different kind about one person,
about her way, and about her life. The simple title she chose—Family,
Friends and Country—captures the sources creating her special strength.

Many people who know Mme. Nguyễn Thị Bình are surprised by two
points. The first is her appealing strength and persuasive character,
qualities that strike not only people in our country but also so many
foreigners, including some famous and “difficult” ones. We know that not
long after 1979, many of our long-term foreign friends did not understand
when we had to implement the Border War in the West and South to
oppose the repeated Pol Pot incursions and save the Cambodian people
from genocide. They sought out Mme. Bình. After they heard her
explanation, these foreigners said, “All right. We’ve heard many
Vietnamese speak, but when Mme. Bình speaks, we believe and trust.”

During our terribly difficult years of the cruel war against foreign
aggression, Nguyễn Thị Bình visited all over the world. Wherever she
went, people said the same thing: “If Bình speaks, then we believe.” We
can say without fear of error that perhaps Mme. Bình is the Vietnamese
person with the most friends across the world, from ordinary people to
famous heads of state, who represented many different political views.
During the war years, she traveled across most of the planet.

Here’s what was truly unusual and beautiful: The image of Việt Nam
during our devastating struggle was not an armed warrior but, rather, a
slender, unassuming yet erudite woman who was personable and who
spoke clearly. Decisive events could not change her leisurely, self-
confident presence. She called her work “people-to-people diplomacy,”
meaning one person to another person, one heart to another heart. She
brought many friends to our nation’s side. This was an important, decisive
point in Việt Nam’s unusual victory during the last century.

The second “unusual” point about Nguyễn Thị Bình is the youthful
strength of her intellect and spirit, her life force, her stunning endurance,
and her wide yet deep point of view, which has expanded even during her
older years. It seems as if she still stands in our front line, working
tirelessly in all the key and important areas of our society’s life.

I was fortunate to work with Mme. Nguyễn Thị Bình and be near her for
a number of years. I am honored to introduce readers to her writing, which
calls on us all to think deeply not only about those seething days in the
past but also about our country today and tomorrow.

Nguyên Ngọc

Writer

Translator’s Note

Mme. Nguyễn Thị Bình’s Family, Friends and Country is perhaps the
best book in English from Việt Nam to give us insight into life among
Resistance activists (the Việt Minh, later called the “Việt Cộng”) in the
south of Việt Nam during the French War and the American War (the
Vietnamese name for the Western term, “Vietnam War”).

Mme. Bình wrote this memoir for Vietnamese readers but also with
foreign friends in mind. However, much of the text assumes Vietnamese
readers’ knowledge of their own country’s history and culture. For that
reason, this English version includes annotations, which can be easily read
at the foot of the page or just as easily skipped. I have kept the notes about
international figures and major Vietnamese leaders brief, since more
information is immediately available in English on the Web at Wikipedia
and other sites. The notes about other Vietnamese figures and points of
history and culture are more detailed, with information drawn from
interviews and from books and websites available only in Vietnamese.

I am grateful to Mme. Bình for her guidance and to her colleagues,
Phạm Ngạc and Nguyễn Văn Huỳnh, for answering specific questions. I
also want to thank fellow Westerners, Florence Howe, Randy Ross, Judy
Gumbo Albert, and Margrit Schlosser for their editorial advice, copy-
editing, and proof-reading.

Lady Borton

Hà Nội, Việt Nam
Spring 2015

1.

My Homeland

Quảng Nam, my native province, was split into two because of the
special circumstances that arose during the American War[1]. After 1975,
Quảng Nam once again became one province.

My ancestral home[2] of Quảng Nam is not opulent, but it is abundant
and diverse, with bright green rice paddies and many rivers. There is the
famous Thu Bồn River, the Hàn River, which is short but full and strong,
and the Trường Giang River, which is very special in that it does not pour
down from the mountains but, rather, connects one estuary to another.
Then there is the Tam Kỳ River, which appears blue throughout the
seasons, and the Cổ Cò River, which is like a natural canal intertwining
and connecting all the waterways across the province. People say Quảng
Nam Province is unique because its waterways—whether large or small—
flow freely across the province without finding their way to the sea. Quảng
Nam also has mountains, the sea, islands, and beaches, which some people
consider the most beautiful in the world. UNESCO has listed Quảng Nam’s
Cham Island in its World Network of Biosphere Reserves.

Quảng Nam also has Hội An. From the sixteenth and seventeenth
centuries onward, Hội An was a bustling port and the first place in our

country to interact directly with the West. Hội An residents conducted
business with the Chinese, Japanese, Portuguese, Spanish, and Dutch
traders who arrived early on. The local residents gained experience in
international business transactions and the cultures of other civilizations.
They also developed a personal dynamism, which was genuine.

Đà Nẵng, which is less than thirty kilometers from Hội An, is the
largest international gateway to Quảng Nam Province and Việt Nam’s
Central Region[3]. In 1997, Đà Nẵng City became one among several
major cities linking directly to our national government’s central level.
The remainder of the province retained the name of Quảng Nam but with
its provincial capital located in Tam Kỳ City. Although Quảng Nam
Province and Đà Nẵng City are administratively separate, their history,
traditions, and culture have always been one.

This strategic location led the French to station their first soldiers at Đà
Nẵng when they invaded our country in the nineteenth century. More than
a century later, the Americans landed their assault marines en masse at Đà
Nẵng to open the US Limited War in South Việt Nam. The United States
converted Đà Nẵng into a huge air, infantry, and naval base to command
the battlefields in the Central Region of Việt Nam, in the Central
Highlands, and as far north as the 17th parallel. In addition, Đà Nẵng was
an airbase for US bombing raids against North Việt Nam.

In modern times, Quảng Nam and especially Đà Nẵng were major spear
points in our Resistance Wars Against Foreign Aggressors and, therefore,
were among our country’s fiercest battlefields. The people of Quảng Nam
and Đà Nẵng suffered courageously; they endured enormous sacrifices.
Quảng Nam - Đà Nẵng has over seven thousand Heroic Vietnamese

Mothers[4]. It is poignant testimony that they comprise more than one
quarter of the Heroic Mothers from across Việt Nam. Indeed, the people of
my ancestral homeland deserve the assessment of “loyal, brave, and
resilient.[5]”

*

**

I returned to my ancestral homeland in 1975, after we had completely
liberated South Việt Nam. I was horrified to see that the US and Sài Gòn
authorities’ armies had bulldozed, leveled, and completely devastated so
many villages during their policy of “free-fire zones.” Gò Nổi - Điện Bàn,
my paternal ancestral homeland and formerly one of the richest areas of
Quảng Nam, had been known for its productive fields and green marshes
along the Thu Bồn River. From long before, that area had been famous for
its silk, which had even reached European markets. However, after the
war, all that remained was an expanse of bare land, a vast wasteland of
sedge grass without the shadow of even a tree, without the shadow of even
a single human being.

My maternal ancestral homeland to the west of Tam Kỳ was also an
area that had suffered from intense cruelty. The war had also destroyed its
villages.

The aftermath of war in Quảng Nam was devastating, especially the
effects of Agent Orange, one of the defoliants that the United States
sprayed for years. The after-effects continue even today.

During the forty years since the American War ended, the people of
Quảng Nam - Đà Nẵng have managed to rebuild. In truth, they have
rescued life from ashes.

*

**

Not only were Quảng inhabitants staunch during our wars for national
liberation, but they are also proud to have contributed significantly to our
national culture. For generations, Quảng Nam has had a reputation as a
seat of great learning with a tradition of eager students and many excellent
scholars. At one point, the entire country knew the names of the Five
Quảng Nam Doctoral Scholars[6] and the four Quảng Nam champions. In
the early twentieth century, Quảng Nam was one of the sites of the Eastern
Capital Free School Movement (Đông Kinh Nghĩa Thục)[7] and the
Modernization Movement (Duy Tân).

Quảng Nam still has many areas of extreme poverty, particularly in its
mountains. However, nature has her own laws of compensation. The Tiên
Phước area of my maternal ancestral homeland, where “dogs eat stones,
and chickens eat gravel,” is the cradle of great patriots. These include my
maternal grandfather, Phan Châu Trinh (also known as Phan Chu Trinh)
[8], and Elder Huỳnh Thúc Kháng. Elder Kháng served as interim
president of the Government of the Democratic Republic of Việt Nam in
1946, while President Hồ Chí Minh[9] was in France.

*

**

People have different opinions about my grandfather’s political views.
Nevertheless, he is widely recognized as the first Vietnamese person to
introduce the concepts of democracy and civil rights in Việt Nam. The
father of President Hồ Chí Minh, Junior-Doctorate Nguyễn Sinh Sắc,
described Phan Châu Trinh as a friend, a fellow graduate, and “the first
person to organize for citizens’ rights in Nam [Việt Nam].” Historian
Hoàng Xuân Hãn speaks about the scholar-patriots searching for a way to
save our nation at the end of the nineteenth and beginning of the twentieth
centuries. He points out that Elder Phan Châu Trinh was the first person to
identify our culture’s disastrous backwardness as the primary reason we
lost control of our country at the time of the French invasion.

Elder Phan defined the process necessary to develop our nation:
“Expand the people’s cultural standard, encourage the people’s zeal, and
support the people’s material needs.” He was unequivocal: “Best of all,
study!” From this, we can understand his message: The people needed
knowledge and understanding in order to awaken national self-esteem.
Only then could they undertake the great, dual causes of freedom and
happiness. I believe these profound ideals hold priceless long-term value. I
believe they apply to all of us today.

People regard Elder Phan Châu Trinh as the embodiment of Quảng
character, for he was forthright, purposeful, and independent. The
“argumentative” habit of the Quảng inhabitants was evident in his
personality. Quảng people tend to be “passionate about their work.” They
will take responsibility for the community and for the nation, and they will
accept a challenge and plunge in energetically. At the same time, Quảng
people are rather sentimental, open, and receptive to what is new. Those
qualities have led to the following lines from oral poetry:

Quảng Nam's soil is quick to absorb moisture even

before it rains,

Quảng Nam's people grow tipsy even

before sipping red wine.

Many of my friends say I inherited the traites of a Person from Quảng
Nam!

[1] “American War”: The Vietnamese term for what Americans call the “Việt Nam War.”

[2] Ancestral homeland: For Vietnamese, “ancestral homeland” (quê hương) is not the same

as “birthplace” but instead refers to the family’s geographical roots and the location of the
ancestors’ graves. Unless otherwise specified, “quê hương” refers to the paternal ancestors. A
Vietnamese person’s quê hương has a special, emotional draw, even if she or he has never lived
there.

[3] Central Region: Traditionally, even before French colonialism, Vietnamese divided their

country into three regions: Northern Region (Bắc Kỳ or Tonkin during French colonialism),
Central Region (Trung Kỳ or Annam during French colonialism), and Southern Region (Nam Kỳ
or Cochin China during French colonialism). The capitalized terms “North” and “South” for the
two geo-political regions—“North Việt Nam” and “South Việt Nam”—apply accurately only to
the period between the Geneva Agreement (July 1954) and the end of the American War (April
1975). During that time, the Democratic Republic of Việt Nam (DRVN) was the government in
the North, while the Republic of Việt Nam (ROVN) was the government supported by the United
States in the South. On December 20, 1960, the Resistance to the American-backed regime in the
South formed the National Liberation Front (NLF); on June 8, 1969, the Resistance formed the
Provisional Revolutionary Government of the Republic of South Việt Nam (PRG).

[4] Heroic Vietnamese Mother is a national honor established on August 29, 1994 for

women who had lost two or more sons or their husbands during the war or who, themselves,
were martyred.

[5] “Loyal, brave, and resilient”: In 1968, the Central-Level Office of South Việt Nam

(COSVN, the “Việt Cộng” headquarters) and the [Resistance] Regional Military Committee
organized a congress, “Hero Warriors from the Entire South to be Emulated.” The Regional
Military Committee brought in representatives from the provinces and cities of South Việt Nam,
from the Military Headquarters of Military Zones 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, and from Sài Gòn - Gia Định
Special Zone. The congress unanimously presented commendations to the three provinces of Bến
Tre, Long An, and Quảng Nam - Đà Nẵng for their outstanding achievements opposing the
United States from 1954 to 1968. Quảng Nam - Đà Nẵng was awarded the title, “Loyal, brave,
and resilient—a vanguard destroying the United States.”

[6] The Five Quảng Nam Scholars (ngũ phụng tề phi) who achieved top scores and the

rank of doctorate in the 1898 triennial examination session at the Royal Court Examination are
Phạm Liệu, Phan Quang, Phạm Tuấn, Ngô Chuân, and Dương Hiển Tiến. The Four Champions
(tứ kiệt) are Elder Scholars Phan Châu (Chu) Trinh, Huỳnh Thúc Kháng, Trần Quý Cáp, and
Nguyễn Đình Phiêu.

[7] Eastern Capital Free School Movement was a free, nationalist, popular-education

movement, which began in March 1907 in the outskirts of Hà Nội and spread to other cities and
provinces. It flourished until the end of 1907, when the French forced closure of the schools.
Modernization Movement: Patriotic scholar Phan Bội Châu (1867-1940), who was an
acquaintance of Hồ Chí Minh’s father, established the Modernization Movement in 1904 and the
Go East Movement in 1907 to encourage Vietnamese revolutionary youth to study in Japan.

[8] Phan Châu Trinh (1872-1926, a.k.a. Phan Chu Trinh, Tây Hồ, Hy Mã, and Tử Cán)

resigned his mandarin commission and advocated removal of the monarchy. He was arrested and
held on Côn Đảo Prison Island. After his release, Phan Châu Trinh went to Paris in 1915 to
secure support for his nationalist ideas. There, he worked with other patriotic Vietnamese,
including young Hồ Chí Minh. Phan Châu Trinh is mentioned often in this memoir. Huỳnh Thúc
Kháng (1876-1947) was a leader of the Modernization (Duy Tân) Movement. The French
arrested him in 1908 and held him in Côn Đảo Political Prison for thirteen years. After his
release, Huỳnh Thúc Kháng continued his activism. Although he was not a communist, Huỳnh
Thúc Kháng was the minister of interior in the first formally elected government of the
Democratic Republic of Việt Nam from 1946 until his death.

[9] Hồ Chí Minh (1890-1969) from Nghệ An Province in the Central Region was the

founder of the modern Vietnamese state. He spent thirty years (1911-1941) traveling, studying,
and organizing overseas, living in (listed in alphabetical order) China, England, France, Hong
Kong, Russia, Thailand, and the United States as well as visiting many other countries. Hồ Chí

Minh was president of Việt Nam’s Provisional Government, which was established during the
1945 August Revolution. He was president of the formally elected government from 1946 until
his death.

2.

Childhood

My mother was the second daughter of Elder Phan Châu Trinh and a
native of Tiên Phước District’s eastern area, which is now part of Phú Ninh
District to the west of Tam Kỳ Provincial Capital. My paternal
grandfather, a native of Điện Bàn District, was a volunteer soldier in the
Save-the-King Movement[1].

My father, the tenth child in his family, was an official geophysical
surveyor. After graduation, he worked in the southwest of Việt Nam,
always floating on a huge river barge. I was born in Tân Hiệp Commune,
Sa Đéc Province; my parents named me Sa. According to my mother’s
story, on one occasion, when I was nine months old and learning to crawl, I
slipped into the Tiền River, but they immediately fished me out.

Since I spent some of my childhood in rural areas, I developed a little
understanding of farming, fishing, and catching shrimp. I will always
remember the rainy season in the western delta of southern Việt Nam, how
the rice paddies would flood with water as vast as the sea. Those childhood
days had an enduring influence on my entire life, on my activism in social
affairs, and on my personal life.

Later, the French authorities assigned my father to work in Cambodia.
He took the whole family with him, settling us in Phnom Penh for some
years. My mother gave birth seven times. One child died from illness,
leaving six children, four boys and two girls. I am the eldest.

In addition, several cousins from the countryside came to live with us.
Because of economic difficulties, these cousins’ families had asked my
father to help them continue their education or to find them employment.
Our house was always full and happy. Eating meals involved two shifts,
since we did not have enough table space for everyone at once. Although
my father’s salary was neither high nor low, he would always help our
relatives.

Father was hard working, and he was passionate about technology. On
the ground floor, he had a room filled with the machine parts he used for
repairs and innovations. Anyone looking for my father after work hours
could find him in his “special warehouse.” Perhaps because my father was
dedicated to his profession, he judged people by their attitude toward
work. Since a hard-working person was good, he did not like anyone who
was lazy. As for us children, he demanded the same from us, whether we
were boys or girls. If we knew how to ride a bicycle, then we must also
know how to repair the bike and fix its tires.

My father liked it when we were eager students reading books and
playing sports, but he disliked it when we spent time singing songs and
socializing with friends. Later, during my years as an activist and
organizer, I always felt close to working people and found it easy to
associate with them. I found I usually assessed people through their

attitude toward work and their relationship with working people. Thinking
back, I am thankful my father had that influence on me.

My mother was not healthy, perhaps because she had given birth so
often. When she died, I was sixteen; my youngest sibling was not quite a
year old. I’d had a happy childhood filled with warmth and with the love
of parents and relatives. When my mother passed away, I felt anxious and
deprived of affection. However, watching my younger siblings, who were
so small and vulnerable, I began to sense my own responsibility—I knew I
must replace my mother and care for the younger children.

*

**

While alive, my mother often told me stories about my maternal
grandfather, Elder Phan Châu (Chu) Trinh. He passed away in 1926[2],
about a year after returning from France. I never met Phan Châu Trinh in
person and did not directly receive the influence of his expansive, patriotic
thinking. From what my mother told me, I know circumstances forced my
grandfather to wander across the country from a young age. Then the
colonizers arrested him because of his anti-French activities. They might
have guillotined Phan Châu Trinh if progressive members of the French
Alliance for Human Rights had not zealously supported him. After his
release from Côn Đảo Political Prison, Phan Châu Trinh requested that the
colonial authorities let him go to France, where he lived for fourteen
years. His intention was to search for support from progressive forces in
France in order to pursue independence for our Homeland.

Even though my family did not live in Việt Nam during the early 1940s,
news of the communist insurgency[3] in Mỹ Tho (now, Tiền Giang)
Province and a number of other southern provinces reached us. Back then,
I noticed that my mother often expressed sadness and confided to her close
friends, saying, “When will our people fight the French?”

In Cambodia, our family lived on Miche Boulevard (now Preah
Boulevard) in Phnom Penh, the capital. Our house of wood had a very
special architecture because my father had designed it according to his
own specific ideas. The house was spacious, airy, and set behind a wide,
sandy area, which would become as white as snow when the moon was
full. On moonlit nights, we children loved to chase each other on that
white sand. Behind the house were rice paddies. During the rainy season,
floodwaters would reach our house pillars. I will always remember the
image of our familial house and a childhood shared with my siblings
during those years when we still had both our father and our mother.

I attended Lycée Sisowath[4], the largest middle school in Cambodia.
Since my father was a civil servant, I “received” free tuition in the French
“mother-country” school instead of attending the school for indigenous
children. Most of my fellow students were children of civil servants, who
were either French or Vietnamese with French citizenship[5]. My
nationalist spirit shared by my younger siblings resulted in a few rows
with the “French kids.”

I remember once going out to play. Several French classmates were
talking about their servants at home and saying, “All Annamites[6] are
thieves.”

I heard this. I couldn’t remain silent! I went up and asked, “What did
you just say?”

That startled the French kids.

I threw them even more off guard when I tossed aside my schoolbag
and started pounding on them. Just then, my younger siblings came along.
They joined the fray to back me up. A scuffle occurred in which,
fortunately, no one suffered any injury worth describing. The next day, the
principal called me in. I thought he would discipline me, but he gave me
only a light reminder about proper behavior.

At the end of the previous year, my mother had gone to Sài Gòn for
treatment when her illness became serious. She was staying at Grandfather
Phan’s Temple[7] in Đa Kao Ward. After finishing my “brevet” general-
education examination, I left for Sài Gòn to visit my mother. I saw my
mother’s pale face—she was only skin and bones—and felt deep love for
her and still more regret that I had not been by her side to take care of her.
I cried until my eyes were swollen.

Mother looked at me and shook her head, mumbling, “My beloved
child,” she said, “you’re still so little!”

I was tired from a full day’s journey from Phnom Penh to Sài Gòn.
Exhausted, I fell asleep. Then suddenly our helper shook me awake, saying
my mother had just died.

At that time, my father was far away on a work assignment, but he
returned in time for my mother’s funeral. Like my father, my siblings also
had no chance to visit our mother during her last moments. I was the only

one fortunate enough to see my mother before she passed on forever. We
buried her at the Central Region Fraternal Association Cemetery (Trung
Kỳ Ái Hữu). Only in 1976, after the two wars, could we exhume her
remains and move her to Grandfather Phan’s Temple, where she now rests.
Before my mother’s death, I had dreamed that, upon completing my
baccalaureate, I would apply to medical school and become a doctor so
that I could cure my mother and treat the poor.

I had those thoughts and desires because I had seen the way the doctors
treated my mother. Even though these doctors were paid, they were neither
earnest nor dedicated. Our family had to beg them for favors. Could it be,
perhaps, that we were unable to connect with effective and knowledgeable
doctors?

And so, I lost my mother when I was sixteen. My siblings were still
very young, just thirteen, nine, five, three, and the youngest only a few
months old. While my mother was still alive, I thought only about school
and having fun. My father placed many hopes in me. I was a good student,
especially in mathematics, where I always scored high marks. Later on, I
tutored; for a time, I taught math at several schools.

“Try to study well,” my father would always say, “so that later you can
have a profession and also care for your younger siblings.” It was as if he
foresaw our situation.

During my high school years, I did study hard and began to think about
the future. I loved to read; I would stay up very late reading novels. I also
enjoyed listening to the lyrical music of Schubert, Schumann, and other
composers, and to grand symphonies. I felt my heart awaken when I heard

the song that Lưu Hữu Phước had written, calling on us youth: “Oh, youth,
stand up! Respond to the call of our nation...” [8]

My parents had sometimes taken us to watch a movie or see cải lương,
Vietnamese modern opera. These stories stirred me. I recall watching Đời
Cô Lựu (Miss Lựu’s Life)[9], a cải lương production which was very
famous during the 1940s. Members of the audience turned from looking at
the stage and stared at me. I was utterly embarrassed, but I could not
restrain my tears.

I also loved sports. My favorite was basketball. I usually played with
friends all Sunday morning. By the time I returned home, my cheeks were
as red as ripe tomatoes. Sometimes, I competed in basketball games with
other schools or in cross-country races. I paid attention to sewing and
cooking as well, since I wanted to become a woman accomplished in
“industry, appearance, speech, and good behavior[10].” Like so many girls,
I had many dreams. At that time, I met Khang, who would later become
my life partner.

*

**

Beginning in 1944, the situation in our country underwent many
vicissitudes. It was as if the atmosphere were smoldering hot, with the
forecast vague yet auguring the changes that everyone awaited with worry
and excitement. Japanese troops had poured into our country and spread
throughout. At this time, I also began to become more aware of many
other socio-political concerns.

Activities of the Association of Overseas Vietnamese Patriots and then
of the Movement to Assist Compatriots Starving in the Northern
Region[11] attracted the widespread involvement of Vietnamese living in
Cambodia and particularly in Phnom Penh. Of course, members of my
family were enthusiastic participants. Gradually, we came to understand
about the Việt Minh[12], the organization that had stepped forward to
launch these movements.

The Japanese overturned the French administration in Indochina on
March 9, 1945. Many Vietnamese in Cambodia felt they should return
home as soon as possible to join directly in our country’s huge struggle.
Our family also decided to return to home. And so, I put aside preparations
for my baccalaureate examination.

[1] Save-the-King Movement: King Hàm Nghi (life: 1872-1943; reign: 1884-1885)

opposed the French invasion of Việt Nam. He and some of his mandarins fled from the imperial
capital in Huế to the mountains, where he promulgated his “Save-the-King Appeal.” After two
years, the French captured Hàm Nghi and exiled him to Algeria.

[2] Funeral for Phan Châu Trinh: Phan Châu Trinh, a famous scholar-patriot in the

generation before Hồ Chí Minh, advocated non-violence and development of education to
achieve national consciousness and independence from France. Phan Châu Trinh’s funeral
engendered huge demonstrations nationwide, galvanizing a generation of young Vietnamese
revolutionaries, including Phạm Văn Đồng (later, the country’s premier), Võ Nguyên Giáp (later,
commander-in-chief of the army), and Lê Đức Thọ (later, the opponent to Henry Kissinger at the
Paris Conference on Việt Nam, 1968-1973).

[3] The Southern Uprising in 1940 had been planned for the entire country, but the

Communist Party leaders decided to delay. Because the messenger carrying this news to Southern
Region was arrested, the activists there went ahead with the Uprising, which broke out on
November 23, 1940 across many provinces but particularly in Mỹ Tho. Peasants rose up with

courage, destroying French military posts and roads. The revolutionaries established local
democratic administrations in the areas where the colonial authorities had fled.

Heavy French repression followed; the uprising ultimately failed. Nevertheless, for the first
time, activists in Mỹ Tho’s Châu Thanh District raised Việt Nam’s red flag with its five-pointed
gold star symbolizing farmers, workers, soldiers, scholars, and traders. Those leading the
Uprising in Châu Thanh District included Mme. Mười Thập, later president of the Việt Nam
Women’s Union and, in that role, a mentor for Nguyễn Thị Bình when Mme. Bình regrouped to
Hà Nội in 1954. Mme. Mười Thập appears later in Mme. Bình’s narrative.

[4] Lycée Preah Sisowath, a protectorate secondary school teaching in French, was founded

in 1873 in Phnom Penh, Kingdom of Cambodia.

[5] Vietnamese with French citizenship: The French Northern and Central Regions (Tonkin

and Annam) were protectorates. However, since the Southern Region (Cochin China) was a
colony, its Vietnamese residents could secure French citizenship if they had enough money and
sufficiently strong connections. Many of the ethnic Vietnamese living in Cambodia had come
from the Southern Region and were French citizens.

[6] “Annamites” was a common name for Vietnamese at that time, since the imperial capital

of Huế was in Annam, the Central Region.

[7] Temple for Phan Châu Trinh: Vietnamese traditionally have altars in their homes to

honor the family’s deceased ancestors. On a wider level, they have temples (not to be confused
with pagodas, which are Buddhist places of worship) to honor founders of villages and national
heroes.

[8] Lưu Hữu Phước (1921-1989) composed the music to “Thanh Niên Hành Khúc” (Youth

March), while Mai Văn Bộ (1918-2002) wrote the initial lyrics in French. Ironically, the song
later became the basis of the national anthem for the US-supported Republic of Việt Nam, yet
Lưu Hữu Phước was the minister of information and culture for the Provisional Revolutionary
Government of the Republic of South Việt Nam (PRG, “Việt Cộng”), while Mai Văn Bộ was the
general representative for the Democratic Republic of Việt Nam (“North Việt Nam”) to France
during the Paris Conference (1968-1973). After the American War ended in 1975, Mai Văn Bộ
was the DRVN ambassador covering Belgium, France, Italy, Luxemburg, and the Netherlands.
Lưu Hữu Phước was a member of the National Assembly of re-united Việt Nam.

[9] Đời Cô Lựu (Miss Lựu’s Life) is a famous cải lương (Vietnamese modern folk opera) by

Trần Hữu Trang (1906-1966). First produced in 1936, it explores the vicissitudes and difficult

fate of Lựu, a poor woman during feudalist, colonial times.

[10] Industry, appearance, speech, and good behavior are the four Confucian attributes

defining the ideal woman.

[11] Famine in the North: At the end of World War II, the Japanese occupying the Northern

Region of Việt Nam confiscated the peasants’ rice and other food for Japanese troops and for
their army’s horses. The Japanese also forced peasants to grow jute instead of rice. Estimates are
that about two million Vietnamese starved during the famine in late 1944 and early 1945.

[12] Việt Minh: On May 19, 1941, the VIIIth Conference of the Indochinese Communist

Party’s Central Committee met under the leadership of Hồ Chí Minh in Pác Bó, Cao Bằng
Province, very close to the Chinese border. Three months before, Hồ Chí Minh had returned to
Việt Nam after thirty years working and organizing overseas. He reasserted control of the Party
and shifted the leadership back to an inclusive, nationalist vision of democracy, independence,
and freedom. The May 1941 Party meeting widened the revolutionary movement to include
organizations and individuals who were not communists by forming the “Việt Minh” (Việt Nam
Độc Lập Đồng Minh Hội, League for the Independence of Việt Nam).

Western sources often incorrectly use the term “Việt Minh,” which was always a movement
and never a government. “Việt Minh” can be correctly applied in the Northern and Central
Regions until the Declaration of Independence on September 2, 1945, when the Provisional
Government of the Democratic Republic of Việt Nam took effect. After that time, the
government’s formal name or “DRVN” is appropriate usage. However, in the Southern Region,
depending on context, as in Mme. Bình’s text, “Việt Minh” (as a movement, not a government)
remains appropriate usage for the Resistance Movement until formation of the National
Liberation Front on December 20, 1960.

3.

I’m a Happy Person

I must speak about my private affairs because, truly, emotional ties
have been the most precious part of my life.

When I was sixteen, my father was working for the Geophysical Survey
Office in Cambodia. A number of graduates from the Public Works
Department in the Hà Nội Polytechnic School came to Cambodia for
internship assignments. Since my father held the most senior position in
his profession in Cambodia, he received the assignment to guide them.
Among these young interns was Mr. Đinh Khang, the graduate who worked
most closely with my father. “Older Brother”[1] Khang loved sports and
was equally good at playing table tennis, volleyball, and basketball. We
would often meet on the basketball court.

Romance blossomed between us and grew in strength day by day.
However, my father was cautious because he didn’t know Khang’s family;
in addition, my father wanted me to complete my schooling. At that time,
I had a number of other male friends, but my love was only for Khang. We
made promises to each other.

When the War of Resistance Against France broke out, I went to Sài
Gòn to look for Khang and his friends. They had already returned to Sài

Gòn and were participating in the organizations that had been started by
the Việt Minh.[2] In the middle of 1946, Khang and I met again at Phan
Châu Trinh’s Temple. Khang stayed with our family for a few months and
then left for Hà Nội. Before his departure, he told me: “I must go to the
Northern Region and join our national army, where I have many friends.
The situation in the Southern Region is very complex. It’s difficult to
know what to do.” We parted and promised to see each other soon. Yet it
was nine years before we were reunited in 1954, after I had regrouped to
the North.[3]

During those nine long years, I received from Khang only these few
words: “Wishing you and your family safety and health.” He had written
them on a scrap of paper, which was crumpled because a member of a
delegation of officials had hand-carried the note from our Central-Level
Headquarters in the Northern Region to the Southern Region. Could I
consider that scrap of paper a letter? Regardless, I was delighted to know
that Khang was alive and still thinking of me. Once, when my father was
reading an engineering magazine sent undercover from the Northern
Region, he found an article by an author named Đinh Khang. That’s how
my father discovered that his “son-in-law” in the Northern Region was an
army engineer.

I was organizing undercover for the Resistance in Sài Gòn’s inner city
and often went out to the Liberated Resistance Zones to work and attend
meetings.

The comrade leaders of our movement showed concern for me and
urged me to reconsider the commitment that Khang and I had made to wait
for each other. Should I continue to wait? In truth, at that time, we did not

know when our Resistance War Against France would be victorious. I
didn’t know when Khang and I might meet again. I told myself that if I
found someone whom I loved more than Khang, then I would reconsider.
In truth, up until that point, Khang had been the only one I cherished.

In late 1949, a delegation from the Southern Region was about to be
dispatched to our Central Headquarters in the Northern Region. My fellow
sisters in the Revolution loved me dearly and knew my story. They asked
me if I wanted to go. I thought about this for a long time before replying
that I couldn’t leave.

I realized that, without me, Khang could find someone else. However, I
was afraid that, without me, my younger siblings would have great
difficulties. I will never regret that decision. Watching my five siblings
mature was my reward for the love I gave them. Later, they became a great
source of moral and spiritual support, and they remain so today.

*

**

The Geneva Agreement was signed after nine years of the Resistance
War Against France. On November 23, 1954, I left to regroup in the North.
My father was already in Hà Nội. I met Khang again. My father had told
me that Khang “still did not have a wife” and was working with the army
engineers.

The day Khang and I met I was deeply moved to see him in his army-
green uniform. He gave me a penetrating look.

“How are you?” he asked quietly. He probably perceived me as thinner,
since I had been released from prison only a few months before. I will
never forget those moments.

We rushed to get married, because I was supposed to return to Sài Gòn
in two months to continue organizing. On December 1, 1954, we had a
frugal wedding with several plates of biscuits, candies, and cigarettes, plus
tea. Our wedding was at No. 2 Đinh Lê Street, then the Ministry of Labor.
Minister Nguyễn Văn Tạo[4] served as master of ceremonies. Especially
touching was the emotional speech my father had prepared with great care.
He recalled our story, how Khang and I had endured a very long separation
but had waited faithfully. He urged us to love each other until “our hair
turned silver and our teeth grew loose.”

Whether we are a father or a mother, we always love our children:
When they are young, we nourish and teach them. Once they are grown,
we still worry. We worry about whether they’ll be happy. My father was
like that. His nourishment, concern, and love made me always strive to
succeed in whatever I was doing. I wanted my father to be pleased and
proud of his daughter.

Unfortunately, my father had passed on by the time I’d received
important assignments and had completely fulfilled the responsibilities
assigned to me.

*

**

I’m a happy person. I was able to marry the man I loved, my first love.
Because of our different assignments, Khang and I were often separated.
However, the deep-rooted love between us helped me to stand firm and
complete my missions. In 1956, I gave birth to Thắng (Victory), our son,
and then, in 1960, to Mai (Apricot or Plum), our daughter.

As the American War grew fiercer by the day, I had to be separated
from my children whenever I took on distant, diplomatic missions. My
comrades would ask me, “What has been your greatest difficulty in
completing the huge tasks the Party and State have assigned you?”

The difficulties were not few, and the responsibilities I received were
always greater than my strength. Many comrades were probably like me.
At that time, when our country was totally committed to fighting the
enemy, we could not refuse any task that the Resistance and the nation
asked of us.

However, one important difficulty I could not overcome was my one
sacrifice—not taking care of my two children. From age two onward, they
had to live in crèches and could come home only once a week. Whenever I
was away, their uncles would pick them up, but if all the uncles were busy,
then the children would remain at school. When my children were older, I
was away all year and had to send Thắng and Mai to a live-in school.
Then, with the war raging, the children were evacuated with their aunt.
Since their father was in the army, he also could not look after them.

While on missions away from the city, I would hear bombs falling near
the area where my children had been evacuated. I was so worried; I felt as
if my heart would burst, for I loved them intensely. War divided our
country for more than twenty years. My deepest sympathy goes to my

sisters and brothers who were, like me, interminably separated from their
children. All of us were unable to give our children the parental love and
teaching they deserved. In wartime, many people must sacrifice, for there
is no other choice!

*

**

As to my own family while I was growing up, I must speak first about
my father. My mother died very young, when my father was only forty-
two. He loved his children and, given the situation of the Resistance
struggle, he did not remarry.

Now, looking back, I believe my father’s hardships probably would
have lessened if he’d had someone to take care of him when he was ill
while we children were all away.

My father had the courage to express his convictions. People say that
during the Land Reform Campaign[5] he dared stand up to protect people
who had been unfairly accused. He was in good physical shape from his
work as a surveyor. He would cross jungles and wade streams as if such
treks were nothing. However, with advancing age, he became ill perhaps
because the enemy had arrested and tortured him many times. Then he
served as head of the Southern Military Engineers who were operating
deep in the southern forests with contaminated water. He had to stay in the
hospital about six months.

In 1969, I returned home from the Paris Conference to receive new
directives and was terribly distressed to find that my father had been in the