My decision to pursue a degree in history may have stemmed from the deep emotions I felt when reading Nguyen My’s poem The Red-Colored Farewell. Those verses painted a vivid picture before our generation’s eyes—a winter afternoon when a soldier bid a heartfelt goodbye to his newlywed wife as he set off for battle “alongside many comrades”. And in that farewell moment, the red coat she draped over herself became more than just an article of clothing; it symbolized both the love between two souls and the love for the homeland—a poignant reminder that “when the nation calls, they understand the need to be apart”.

The scene of volunteer youth forces transporting supplies was reenacted by students from Trung Vuong Secondary School at the Da Nang Museum as part of the 2024 experiential education program "Dien Bien Phu – A May Rendezvous." Photo: T.Y.

1. On my first day at university, holding a history textbook in my hands, my heart raced with excitement—like I was about to touch the dust of time, where the echoes of our ancestors still lingered. Lectures were no longer just dry recitations of dates and events; they came alive with stories of mothers bidding farewell to their sons as they marched to war, hurried letters sent from the battlefield, and the unfulfilled dreams of those who had laid down their lives to defend every inch of their homeland. That was also when we first read the diaries of Dang Thuy Tram and Nguyen Van Thac, or lost ourselves in cinematic masterpieces like Noi gio (Rising Wind), Chung mot dong song (Together on the Same River), Vi tuyen 17 ngay va dem (17th Parallel, Days and Nights), Em be Ha Noi (The Little Girl of Hanoi), and Biet dong Sai Gon (Saigon Commandos).

The deeper we delved into history, the more we understood the importance of having a wise guide to lead the way. That guide could be our teachers, researchers, or museum curators who bring the past to life. I still remember a conversation with my homeroom teacher years ago. He candidly pointed out that many history textbooks today feel monotonous, as they strictly follow a rigid structure—outlining the causes, events, outcomes, and historical significance. But history is more than just a sequence of events; it is a continuous, interconnected journey, rich with untold stories that make it compelling and logical.

According to him, most history textbooks today focus primarily on revolutionary warfare while paying little attention to cultural history—the very foundation that shapes human character and emotions. He offered an example: If he were to write  a summary of the Vietnam War from 1954 to 1975, he would begin with the question: Why did the world's leading superpower suffer its first-ever defeat in history? Could it be that the decisive factor was the spiritual resilience of the Vietnamese people?

2. The patriot Huynh Thuc Khang once wrote: "Why study history? Why study geography? We study geography to live in harmony with our land and rivers. We study history to live with those who have passed." According to him, a nation that focuses only on the present without understanding and respecting its past has no future. Moreover, if we do not know our history, how can we awaken and sustain our patriotism? This understanding is deeply tied to each individual’s need when approaching historical events.

Some seek history to understand the nation’s wars of defence, the legendary battles where military strength and patriotism forged glorious victories. Others view history through a cultural and social lens, tracing the ever-evolving currents of thought, customs, and human interactions across different eras. There are also those who cherish history for its tales of individuals and love stories that transcend time. This diversity in how people connect with history calls for a more dynamic and flexible approach to storytelling.

Many students have found history to be a difficult subject, overwhelmed by the sheer number of dates and events they are expected to memorize. But is history really just a collection of dry numbers? If we see history as a continuous flow—where each event is a crucial link connecting the past to the present—then learning history is no longer about rote memorization but about embarking on a journey of discovery. The key lies in how history is conveyed—how to make learners feel the pulse of past eras and bring those stories to life.

During his years studying history, Associate Professor Dr. Hoang Van Hien, former Rector of the University of Sciences (Hue University), often reminded us that being a history student is not merely about acquiring knowledge—it is a lifelong journey of exploration, understanding, and responsibility. He emphasized that history learners must cultivate critical thinking and avoid rigidly accepting recorded accounts at face value. Instead, they should ask questions, challenge established narratives, and delve deeper to uncover new perspectives. In his view, a true history enthusiast does not stop at reading books but also visits museums and historical sites, while listening to the stories of those who lived through history itself.

3. Reflecting on how history was taught in our generation, beyond being encouraged to study independently, we were also inspired by the emotional power of storytelling. I still remember my visit to Quang Tri, standing before the Ancient Citadel—where the brutal 81-day battle of 1972 unfolded. There, the guide shared a story that left an indelible mark on me. An elderly mother had been coming to this place for years, carrying an old handkerchief. She would dip it into the waters of the Thach Han River and whisper her son's name, believing that, somewhere beneath those waters, her son and his fallen comrades were still listening.

The story left our entire group in silence. That was the moment I realized that history is not just about victories—it is also about the lingering sorrow of those who remain, about losses that can never truly be measured. Similarly, when I set foot at Hai Van Quan, I chose the highest vantage point to take in the view of what was once one of the Nguyễn Dynasty’s most strategic military passes. From that height, I gazed into the distance, where the winding North-South imperial road stretched between towering mountains. The ocean breeze, carrying the salty scent of the sea, seemed to whisper echoes of the past—of soldiers patrolling the pass, of merchants traveling along this vital trade route, bringing the fragrance of cinnamon and agarwood from the Thuan Quang region all the way to the imperial capital.

Perhaps it was poetry, literature, and these poignant stories that kept us connected to history for so long. They formed an invisible thread linking the past to the present, so that whenever we spoke of history, we did not merely recall events from the pages of a book—we could feel the breath of those who once lived, fought, and sacrificed. History, after all, is not just a collection of dates or glorious victories; it is also a tapestry of memories, silent sorrows, and the unspoken emotions of generations past. And as long as these stories continue to be told, history will remain an unbroken current, flowing endlessly through our collective consciousness.

Reporting by TIEU YEN – Translating by HONG VAN