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"The wide, stone steps that make their way down to the river between clusters of bamboo lead to the Eo Bau ferry, which crosses to the opposite bank and continues on to Huê. At five o’clock in the afternoon, it is already cold along the water’s edge. "March 10th, 1946. I am 16 years old. "That very morning, when I announced my intention of leaving home, my mother’s strong opposition to my plans only served further to reinforce them in my mind. Nhan, my little sister, begged me to stay. My brother sobbed. My father’s reaction would have been even more violent, but he was in Phan Thiet, eight hundred kilometers from Hue, and in those times of war we had no means of communication. My heart was heavy as I folded some clothing into a bag. "My comrades of the Resistance were waiting for me on the other side of the river. I climbed aboard the ferry, shivering, clad in the purple ao dai that I wore to school, my white pants and equally white sandals. My long hair was pulled up into a bun, and I was without a coin in my pocket. I turned around and saw Xuan Ba, my third brother, who was waving his hand, but my thoughts were already far away. I would never see my father again ..." |
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