But the more the movement grew, the more the imperialists stepped up their terror, especially when we had come close to their top provincial organ. Their patrols came quite close to our place and arrested many people. Many times, we had to shift to the region of the Man Trang people, in a vast and thick forest until then untrodden by man, where now and then centuries-old trees fell from old age and decay. We drank water from the streams. Food supply was very difficult. We ate maize or maize gruel. Once we could spare some rice and decided to give it to Uncle, but he refused. He never thought that he was old and weak and gladly shared hardship with us. Sometimes maize and wild banana trunks were our only food for a whole month.
The more the enemy intensified their terror, the more Uncle paid minute attention to the movement. This could be seen not only in every idea of his on revolutionary work but also in the special care he gave it. When the cadres came from various regions, he inquired in detail about their work, their living conditions, the difficulties they had to face and together with them discussed ways of solving them, be they more or less important.
When the movement surged up, all of us were happy, sharing the people’s enthusiasm. He also was gay, but he remained calm, as was his habit, and often at such times, he foresaw the difficulties lying ahead.
He constantly reminded us: a revolutionary must always be patient, calm, and vigilant.
I recall once when we were in Kwangsi, we had an appointment in Tsingsi with a liaison man from the Central Committee at home. The meeting took place at Lu Sung market, on a market day. We were dressed like the Nung people. Uncle was 100 percent like an old Nung with his blue clothes, his trousers rolled up above the knees, and a stick in his hand. Hardly had the liaison man seen Uncle than he hurriedly announced, “Comrade T. has been arrested.” But Uncle calmly took us to an inn nearby for a little rest just as the local people usually did. After taking vermicelli soup we leisurely drank tea; then he said, “Now, tell us all that happened at home. Don’t be in a hurry.”
On another occasion, when we had returned to Cao Bang, after the Eighth Session of the Central Committee, Phung Chi Kien and a number of other comrades were sent by the Central Committee to Bac Son to help consolidate and expand the guerrilla base there. He set up a military training course which had just ended when the imperialists launched a fierce mopping-up operation in the locality. Part of the Bac Son platoon of the National Salvation Army, while fighting their retreat to Cao Bang, was attacked by the enemy at Bac Can, and Phung Chi Kien fell in an enemy ambush in Lung Sao, Ngan Son district. The heartrending news of his death came to us when we were on our way to a conference. Uncle stopped suddenly, and tears streamed down his cheeks. Only after a while could he resume his way.
Every time we returned to our headquarters and saw him, we felt as if we returned to our own home, a home where revolutionaries lived together like brothers of a family, keeping in mind that they must endure hardships and that revolutionary work must be long. He often said, “In everything we must be prompted by the Party’s interests. The Party is like our own family.” We learned a great deal from his patience, his calmness. The warm feeling of solidarity when we were together gave us confidence in the outcome of the revolution and permeated all our thinking, our words, our deeds.
We came to Lam Son just when the popular movement was developing strongly. Each monthly military training course organized by the Inter-Provincial Committee drew in from fifty to sixty persons. The third course, held first in Kim Ma district, had to be shifted to another place before it was destroyed by the enemy. The latter, when coming to the place, could not conceal their surprise on seeing that, though deep in the forest, there was everything: lecturing hall, dining rooms, dormitory, and a training ground large enough for hundreds of persons.
As the movement was mounting, its consolidation was a task of prime importance. First, we organized training courses only at the district or provincial headquarters, grouping students from various localities. Later, Uncle deemed it necessary to organize mobile training groups moving from one locality to another, short-term training courses of a few days for even two or three persons. These were regrouped for the purpose or could come in between their daily work. In this way, members of national salvation organizations and village self-defense units could, one after another, be trained. As we came from other parts of the country, Uncle always insisted on our paying particular attention to the question of national unity. Such a great question was described by him under the form of concrete, effective, and easy tasks. For instance he said, “Be practical in work, be in harmony with the masses in your way of living and social contacts.” As for myself, I strove to learn the Tho, the Man Trang, and the Man Tien languages during the training courses from the students themselves and could speak a little of each of these languages. Thus, under Uncle’s direct leadership, the cadres and masses of various nationalities of Cao Bang province upheld the spirit of unity in the struggle.
When the movement was expanding, he paid particular attention to organization work and closely followed the activists and cadres. “The movement is like the rising tide,” he often said, “the activists are like piles driven into the earth, only with these piles can silt be retained when the tide ebbs.” As a rule, almost every time he heard a report on the movement, he asked, “How many cadres have been trained? How many activists have come to the fore? How many people have been selected for admission to the Party?” Then he reminded us to keep secrecy, and the way to do it. This enabled us to realize the important role played by the activists of the Party cells. Every query or piece of advice of his brought new tasks with new solutions, for he did not abide by the old routine and took into consideration the new situation.
All the tasks set by the Eighth Session of the Central Committee were carried out one after another along with the development of the movement. The question of the Southward March was put in the forefront. Besides maintaining contacts through usual secret liaison links, we deemed it urgent to organize southward liaison from Cao Bang through the broad masses.
We set out to work. Uncle went abroad. Time passed rapidly as we threw all our energies into our work.
One day, when we had fought our way to Ngan Son district and were organizing a training course for local cadres, we received an urgent letter from Pham Van Dong asking us to return immediately to Cao Bang. Upon arrival we learned that Uncle had been arrested in China by Chiang Kai-shek troops and had died in prison. I fainted. We suffered greatly and were at a loss. We decided to report the news to the Central Committee and planned to hold memorial services for him. Pham Van Dong was entrusted with writing the funeral oration. We opened his rattan portmanteau to see what he had left which could be kept as a remembrance. Nevertheless, we wanted to send someone to China to get confirmation of the news and also to know the place of his tomb. All this is still fresh in my memory. After days of worry, I went again to Ngan Son district, accompanied by a comrade of the Southward March group. We walked at night along the flanks of deserted tiger-grass-covered mountains, through biting cold under a serene sky. Sadness seized me. Tears crept down my cheeks. Some time later, we received most unexpectedly a paper from China. On its cover were written these words which we recognized immediately as written by Uncle, “Wish all brothers at home good health. Hope you are striving in work. I am quite well.” There followed a poem by him:
The clouds embrace the peaks, the peaks embrace the clouds,
The river below shines like a mirror, spotless and clean.
On the crest of the Western Mountains, my heart stirs as I wander
Looking toward the Southern sky and dreaming of old friends.
We were overjoyed, but extremely astonished. We looked at one another and asked, “Why is that? What does it mean?” We gathered around Cap, the man who had brought us the news of Uncle’s death in China, and asked him for explanations. Cap said, “I don’t know myself what happened. It was a Kuomintang officer who told me that.”
We asked him to repeat exactly what the Kuomintang officer had said. He did. Perhaps,