On a clear moonlit night, in a small house, in the middle of Thap Muoi, the water was full around, rightly speaking this was the station of the traffic line, the house was small but the people were crowded. Not yet for the trip, we still have to wait. During the day, we did not know where to go, we all lay back to sit, sometimes felt crazy in our legs, it was very confusing, but we had the compensation of sticking a fishing rod out of the house to fish. The day of fishing is enough to eat, the night no one wants to fish anymore. During that leisure time, we often tell stories. And I heard this story told by an old comrade. He was a person who used to tell stories - most of them were jokes, there were also jokes of the resistance, which made us laugh and laugh. Before he told it, he always smiled, his face turned witty, it was true that the old man had a predestined relationship. But that day he stabbed out unusual.

The old man said, but still sat still, his head slightly lowered, quiet, his face looked up immensely. It must be a touching affair, we guessed it and stopped joking. Outside, a buzzing wind blew. This station - a house nestled in the middle of a tree in the middle of a forest of melaleuca, every time a wind, waves hit the trees, the house vibrates and swayed like a boat playing in the middle. sea. The waves are beating evenly on the trees. The storks stood and slept quietly, a few of them flapping their wings in flight. The waves and winds seemed to remind him of something, he tilted his ear to listen. When the wind blew, the water was quiet again, and he looked up to speak. He told us that as if speaking to the whole kingdom, he did not look at us but looked at the sea, the horizon and the stars.

- It happened more than a year ago, but every time I remember, I was shocked as if I had just seen a dream

- He started with a low voice

- That day, I went from the N.G. to L.A. When the motorboat rushed to the dock, we all wanted to know who the driver was. Not curious but need to know. Because before we left, the station chief reported to us that it was a long distance, a part by motorboat, a walk, easy to see helicopters, and easy to walk by commandos. Meet the helicopters, you must stay calm, not mess, not automatically, but absolutely obey the driver's control. Saying that means that my life has to be completely entrusted to that driver, doesn't it? So I need to look, to know clearly who holds my life. But it was already dark, I just saw that she was a slender girl, with the shoulder carrying the American "bin", the head of the scarf, the neat figure.

Before that, I heard a rumor that this station has a very intelligent communication girl. One day she led a group of tourists about to cross the river, and she let the guests stop in the fields far away. She and another courier came forward to clear the way. Arriving at the riverbank orchard, she found herself in the enemy's ambush. But she was not confused. She called her friend and said, she deliberately said loudly to the enemy: "It's okay, nothing, come back and take the guests, and I go over to the river and shake the canoe." In that statement there is a cue. He immediately turned back, gently carried the guests to the other side, across the river a few kilometers away. As for her, before crossing the river she also re-mounted two grenades. She crossed the river, then escaped. And the other commandos, they thought it was true, planning to scoop up a whole group of visitors, so they didn't dare to move, but waited. Wait forever, they know, it cursed each other, while dragging the gouge back how to stumble on both grenades set, dropping all the lives. Through that, people added that the communicator had a very audible nose. She used her nose to smell the enemy and was able to distinguish between American and puppeteers.

I thought, if that female messenger was you driving this motorboat, I wouldn't be so worried. I wanted to ask, but I found it inconvenient, so I had to say it well:

- How many girls do you have at this station?

- One sister is an adoptive sister and she is two.

So this female relationship then, I feel happy. Hearing her voice, I guess she's eighteen-twenty. I felt fond, wanted to ask more, but found that she was stooping and wrapping the rope on the bun so I stopped. After wrapping the rope on the wheel of the wheel, she straightened and turned around and said to the canoe:

- I'll go first!

The guys who delivered the following boat flared up:

- Come on Mrs. Hai first.

- Ut, good at going!

The person who called Hai, the one who called the youngest sister, didn't know what she really was.

She responded with a few sly questions, called my buddies and then returned to us, lowering her voice very politely:

- Uncle, you have anything important so keep it in your pocket, or in a separate package. If you encounter a shooting helicopter or a commando, precious items will not be lost or burnt.

She informed us of the possible unfortunate things, but her gentle voice - cute too - was different from the strained voice of the station chief, so I wasn't worried. After saying that, she stooped, jerking the phone. The canoe vibrated with the sound of the engine exploding, slowly separating from the canopy of the trees, then the fence slid over. The wind blows the whole body cool, the hair roots. Listening to her instructions, the guests stooped to open. As for me, do I have something precious other than papers and money for sugar already in my pocket? I suddenly remembered the small ivory comb. I immediately opened it, grabbed a comb, put it in a fake paper bag, put it in my breast pocket, and then carefully fastened the western needle.

You! Every time I see that small ivory comb, I wonder and pity each time. During my resistance war life, I witnessed countless breakups, but never, I was as emotional as that time. During those peaceful days, I went back to my hometown with a friend. Our house was next to each other near a small canal that flows into the Mekong River. We escaped together to go to the resistance war, in early 1946, after the province was occupied. When he left, his first daughter - and also his only child, less than a year old. Brother is sixth and also named Sau. During the years of the resistance war, Ms. Sau visited him several times. Every time he asked her to bring her children. But the scene of visiting her husband in the Eastern battlefield is not simple. I dare not take my child through the forest. Listen to her, he can't blame it. I only see you through the small picture only. When it was time to return, the love of the father was still in a hangover in him. Canoeing to the dock, seeing an eight-year-old boy with shoulder-length hair, black pants and red cotton shirt playing in the hut under the mango tree in front of the yard, guessing that he could not wait for the boat to return to the dock, he shrugged My feet jumped, and pushed the canoe out, making me loosen up. He walked quickly with long steps, then stopped and shouted:

- Autumn! Child.

Just then, I was close to him. With his longing for him, he must think that, his child will rush into his lap, hug his neck tightly. He walked, while leaning over, holding his hand to wait. Listen call. It bewildered, strange. And me, well he did not suppress emotion. Every time she was touched, the long scar on her right cheek turned red, jerky, and very frightening. With that emotion and his hands still held forward, he slowly stepped forward, his voice trembling again and again:

- Here you are!

- Here you are!

She felt so strange, she blinked at me as if she wanted to ask who it was, her face suddenly turned pale, then ran away and screamed: "Mum! Mum". As for me, he stood there, looking at his son, the pain that made his face look pitiful again, and his hands dropped as if they were broken.

Because of the long distance, we stayed at home for three days. During those three short days, she did not realize he was the father. Night it did not let him sleep with her. She has a bad temper, she slipped off the bed, stood up on the ground, pulled out his hand. Can't pull, it bites his mouth. Until the day went, his hand was still imprinted with the marks of his teeth. All day he does not go far, always pats him. But the more she patted, the more she pushed away. I expected to hear a "daddy" from her, but she never called. When his mother told him to call him to eat, he said:

- Then keep calling.

His mother got angry and threatened to hit the kitchen chopsticks, he had to call but said:

- Come to eat!

Mr. Sau was still sitting still, pretending not to listen, waiting for him to call "Dad, eat rice". She just stood in the kitchen saying:

- The rice is cooked! - He did not return.

She was so upset, she turned to her mother and said:

- I cried but people didn't listen.

He turned to look at her, shaking his head slightly while smiling. Maybe because he was so miserable that he could not cry, so he had to laugh. The next day, while cooking, his mother ran away to buy food. His mother told him to help him at home. It did not say no, just balked in the kitchen. Listening to the boiling rice pot, he lifted the lid, took the kitchen chopsticks briefly - the big rice cooker, could not aim down to drain the water, until then it looked up at Mr. Sau. I thought, she was being cornered, she must call her father. It looked awkwardly for a moment and then exclaimed:

- The rice is boiling, please drain the water! - It also said in exaggeration.

I spoke up paving the way for it:

- You have to call "my father and grandchildren for me", so must say.

It seemed to ignore my words, it cried again:

- The rice is boiling, now paste it!

Mr. Sau kept sitting still. I scare it:

- When it comes to rice, my mother will be beaten anyway. Why don't you call your dad. Can't you say a "daddy"?

At that time the rice cooker boiled up. It was a bit scared, it looked down, thought, couldn't remind, it looked up again. The sound of rice is boiling like urging it. It winced to cry. It looked at the rice cooker, then looked up at us. Seeing it fascinated me both pitiful and funny, I thought I would give in anyway. He struggled and tiptoed to take the patch to scoop out each patch of water, his mouth muttering something unknown. She is so unique.

(còn 1 nửa bài nữa mà lười quá ạ:<)

Mr. Sau was away from home to fight. It was not until his daughter was eight years old that he had the opportunity to visit home and visit her son. Baby Thu does not recognize her father because the scar on her fatherhood face is not the same as the photo taken with her cheek. I treat my father like a stranger. By the time Thu recognized his father, it was time for Mr. Sau to leave. At the base, the father poured all his love and affection for him into making an ivory comb to give his little daughter. In a raid, he died. Before closing his eyes, he handed the comb to a friend to send to the child.