Then, at the foot of the mountain, I suddenly noticed the outline of a man holding a gun and walking with his head bowed. I knew that night hunters were common in this area. They often wore a small light on their forehead; when the light caught an animal in its path, we’d sometimes see the beam freeze, then begin to dance, and then hear the sound of a gunshot. Sometimes the hunters would stop by our little house to ask us to light their cigarettes or for a glass of water, or sometimes even to slaughter the animals they’d just killed. They could be extremely generous; sometimes they’d even give us a piece of meat that was still warm.
I’d been lost in my thoughts and hadn’t noticed that the man was approaching our house. I could see now that he wasn’t a hunter; he was a young soldier holding a gun and carrying a rucksack on his back.
He smiled.
“Hello, Miss Teacher,” he said. “My unit has given me permission to return home for a short visit. May I rest here for a few minutes?”
I invited him inside and gave him a chair by the fire.
“Please, have a seat,” I said.
The soldier took off his rucksack and sat down. I poured him a glass of water, which he drank enthusiastically. When he was finished, he put the glass down and warmed his hands by the fire.
“It’s about seven kilometers from here to the main road,” I said, “if you’d like to catch a bus to go to the lowlands. Do you know how to get there?”
“I’ve been living here for six years,” he said. “I’ve been all over these woods.” He paused for a moment and smiled. “Tomorrow I will visit my mother.”
“How long has it been since you’ve seen your mother?”
“It’s been six years.”
“Why so long?”
“Because I haven’t been able to make it back home. May I have some more water, please?”
I brought him more water and the soldier again drank voraciously, as if he hadn’t had anything to drink in a long time. Outside, a lone forest cricket chirped loudly.
“Tell me about your hometown and your mother,” I said, changing the subject. “I live far away from home, so I feel homesick too.”
The soldier added more wood to the fire.
“My hometown is far away,” he said. “In Ha Bac, near the Thuong River. There are many rice fields there. In the afternoons I used to go out to the fields to look after my water buffaloes and fly kites. I remember how the twinkling evening light used to mean that a monsoon was coming. The afternoon would look colorful and beautiful under the broad sky full of dark clouds. Then within a few minutes, the sky would go black, the winds would pick up, and it would start to rain. The kids who were out there taking care of the buffaloes would shout and run home.”
“What about your family?”
“My father died when I was young, and my mother raised me and my younger sister by herself. My sister got married two years ago. My mother is a retired schoolteacher and lives alone now. I think she must miss me very much.”
“Do you have a girlfriend?”
“I joined the army when I was eighteen and never had the chance to express my love to any girl. My unit is made up of all males, so there’s nobody for me to fall in love with.”
“Well, when you’re on leave this time, maybe you’ll meet someone. Who knows? But anyway, it’s not a problem for men your age never to have fallen in love.” I laughed. “Sometimes love causes nothing but misery.”
“I’m not sure how happy a person is if they’re in love. But without love, you feel very lonely. A person without love is like a statue. He wouldn’t even be able to tell if moss started growing on his face.”
The soldier’s eyes suddenly became dark and cold. He turned to look at me, but I felt scared and turned away. Time seemed to slow down. The minutes went by very, very slowly.…
Suddenly Ha’s young rooster crowed. Then a little while later, other roosters started crowing in the distance. The soldier stood up, hoisted his rucksack onto his back, and picked up his gun.
“Good-bye for now, Miss Teacher,” he said. “I’ve got to catch the bus.”
I stood up and saw him to the door. Outside, the crescent moon slipped suddenly behind a row of thick, dark clouds.
He took my hands in his and held them tightly. His voice quivered, broken, as he said, “Miss … Miss … May I kiss you?”
It was a natural reaction—I jerked my hands away, ran inside, and slammed the door. From the window, I watched the soldier walking away. Under the moonlight, his silhouette gradually became smaller. I wondered why he wasn’t walking in the direction of the main road but toward the woods.
Two months later, a gray-haired woman accompanied by two young men stopped by our school and asked for a place to spend the night. I talked with her and learned that she was looking for the grave of a fallen soldier. Her son had died in this area during the war. She told me that one night she had a dream in which her son told her, “Mom, I must find a woman to love before I can come home to you.” The gray-haired woman shared this dream with a medium, who then gave her some specific instructions:
“Find a paper doll crafted in the image of a young and beautiful girl. Take the doll and some rice and some salt to the river near the area where your son was killed. Pray and burn everything in that spot, then throw whatever remains into the river. Hopefully, his soul will return after that.”
The medium insisted that the woman must follow these instructions exactly if she wanted her son to return home.
I
