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1 A Morning of Horror
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3 A Morning of Horror It was a cool summer morning in 1951 in my home village, a small and insignificantplaceontheRedRiverdelta ,somesixtymilessouthofHàNội,inthenorth of Việt Nam. Under the bright sunlight and the cloudless blue sky, the green paddy in front of my grandma’s house looked so fresh and peaceful. It would have been much more beautiful if there had not been war in my country. I was surprised that I was still able to perceive beauty when the whole village was filled with horror. At about 5 am, African soldiers of the French Army arrived,tookpositioninthepagodaarea,andbegansearchingthevillagehouses at sunrise. Sitting by the doorway of our brick house beside my grandma and a cousin, Iwaswaitingfortheworsttohappentome.Thevillagewasveryquiet;evenbirds seemedtobeawareofimpendingdangers.Atthathourofadayinpeacetime,the air would have been noisy with voices, children babbling, birds chirping, and the rice fields active with farmers working. We three sat still for hours. At times we spoke, but only in clipped words as if a complete phrase would precipitate disaster. My chest was heavy, my mouth dry, and my mind blank. Occasionally I cast a quick glance at my eighty-twoyear -old grandma and my fifty-year-old third cousin. Their eyes were expressionless , their faces tense, and those only heightened my fear. I turned my eyes to the horizon far away. Beyond the winding canal a mile from my village was a hamlet where columns of black smoke rose high behind the bamboo hedge. The French Army soldiers must have been there and set the housesonfire.Fortunately,myvillagehadbeensparedfireanddestructionafter many raids in four years of wars. I loved my village so much. It was small with the population of about 300. Since 1950, my village had been under French military control. A village chief was appointed along with members of the village One • 4 · A Grain of Sand committee working under King Bảo Đại’s administration, the noncommunist government that sided with France against the Việt Minh.1 However, our submission to the French military authority did not protect usfrombeinglooted,raped,tortured,orkilledbyFrenchsoldiers.Everyprivate, whether he was a Frenchman, an African, or a Vietnamese, could do almost anything he wanted to a Vietnamese civilian without fear of being tried in a court or punished by his superiors. It was safer in the cities where higher military officials and police authorities could exert their judicial power. In 1950, my mother brought my two little sisters and me back to Nam Định (our provincial city, only six miles from my village), where I would attend high school. The French military forces had controlled the city since early 1947, a few months after the war broke out on December 19, 1946. During the summer of 1951, I came to see my grandma as I always did whenever there was a day or two open from school. Although life in the countryside was full of danger, she refused to come live with us in the city. Despite every hazard, she was happy to remain in the house where many generations had lived and died, full of memories of her life with my grandpa. They had eight children, of whom my father was the fifth. She loved me more than anyone else in the world, as I was her only grandson . She always worried about my safety. A bruise on my knee or a cut finger would move her to tears. Asifshehappenedtoremembersomething,shehandedmeabowlofwarm riceshehadcookedbeforedawnwith achunkoffried fish. She whispered,“You eat something. You should not be hungry.” She did not say what I knew she really meant: she wanted to be sure that I would not be a hungry ghost in case I should be killed. I was always willing to please her, but I found it impossible to swallow even a small bit as fear choked my throat and dried my mouth. Long hours of waiting drained my energy. I wished that the soldiers would come sooner if the calamities were unavoidable. When the sun had climbed high above the bamboo row, I heard the black soldiers shout loudly about 300 feet away. Often we could tell how near they werebythesoundoftheirheavybootsandthesmellofthetobaccotheysmoked, which could be detected from a mile or more away. The noises of household objects being broken and the cries of women and children drew nearer and nearer. After a while, four tall black soldiers appeared, riflesontheirshoulders.TheareasofarhadbeenfreeofactivitybytheViệtMinh, soitwasnotnecessaryforthesesoldierstobereadyforcombat.Theykickedopen thegateofmycousin’shouseacrossasmallgardenandalowwallfrommygrandma ’s and walked in. In a few minutes, they came out, after breaking a few jars and earthenware. [107.23.157.16] Project MUSE...