We returned to Hang Ngang Street for further preparations, while Comrade Truong Chinh, who had joined us later, was to stay till the afternoon and accompany Uncle Ho on his journey.
It was the first time for Uncle Ho to come to Hanoi. It had taken him more than thirty-five years to reach Hanoi from the small thatched house in Kim Lien village three hundred kilometres away.
The path he had followed had been different from that of any other Vietnamese patriot before him.
He had wandered alone in various regions of the globe. At that time capitalism, reaching it highest stage of development, had become extremely vicious. It tried to blur the dividing line between the good and the bad. It distorted all the genuine moral values which mankind had achieved so far. It was hiding the lights of justice and freedom.
He had wandered in days of darkness when European and Asian skies were covered with the dark clouds of imperialist wars.
The world was sinking into disorder and sufferings; imperialism was committing crime upon crime. At a time when it was hard to tell the true from the false, he quickly saw the light of truth. He came to Leninism. He found in Lenin’s doctrine “the sun which brings the radiant source of life.” He saw in Lenin’s banner “the symbol of faith and the torch of hope.” Thus, fifty years ago, the great Vietnamese patriot had found in Marxism-Leninism the only way to liberation, the “Revolutionary Way”, for our people and their fellow-sufferers — the peoples oppressed by imperialism. Now a great change had taken place in the national life.
A few days before, Hanoi still looked like a product of the corrupt colonial regime during the war. The whole city was feverish with black-market activities. Life was precarious. There were not enough dust-carts to carry those who had died from starvation to the outskirts of the city where they were thrown into common graves. At the city gates, large numbers of starving people were pouring in from the countryside. They staggered about as lifeless as withered leaves in winter. A light push by a police-man might send someone down never to rise again.
In addition to that, in August the water had risen in every river. The flood had destroyed the dykes left uncared for by the colonial rulers and six of the delta provinces, the granary of northern Viet Nam, were inundated. Cholera was spreading. Many calamities simultaneously occured, all due to the colonial regime.
The economic profiteers were joined by numerous political opportunists who turned out to shout “Long live Viet Nam’s independence” and “Long live Great Japan.” Instead of truncheon-carrying French police-men, one could see Japanese gendarmes with long swords plodding on the pavements in their heavy boots.
This was a sad time, not only for Hanoi but for our whole people.
Then, the victory of the Soviet Red Army, which routed the Japanese Kwantung Army in mid-August, provided our nation with a great opportunity.
The revolution broke out like a whirlwind.
Within only a few days, much of the shame and suffering caused by slavery was swept away.
The revolution’s power of revival was extraordinary. One day before, the whole city had been paralyzed by famine, epidemics and terror. Now, life was seething in every street and lane. Thousands upon thousands of people were marching in the streets with the force of surging waves.
The people’s revolutionary power had just been established. Most people did not know yet who were the representatives of this new power. But a new order, a revolutionary order, was set up by the people themselves. Robbery and stealing virtually disappeared. Beggars could be seen nowhere. Trade activities, which had been the main ones in the city, made room for a new kind of activity — revolutionary activity.
A cyclist would stop at a street corner and shout in his megaphone, “Fellow citizens, please assemble at X. for a rally.” Without knowing who he was, people carried his message while other ordinary citizens disseminated the request through their own megaphones. Everybody stopped work, and went off en masse. Within a few moments, thousands and thousands of people would be present at the meeting place, ready to do anything for the sake of the revolution.
The atmosphere was one of purity and excitement in Hanoi. Revolutionary songs resounded from morning till night:
“The Viet Minh army is marching,
All of one mind, to save the country...”
Golden-starred red flags appeared ever more numerous and more splendid, fluttering in the wind and colouring scarlet the houses and streets. The revolution was really a festive day for the oppressed.
Uncle Ho arrived at night fall. We saw emotion on his face as we came out to meet him.
He was now in Hanoi, which was to become a few days later the capital of the Democratic Republic of Viet Nam, the first people’s democratic State in South-East Asia. However, the people of Hanoi were not yet able to share our joy of welcoming him. Even the driver did not know. After a few days, this man requested leave to go to Thai Nguyen and fetch his father so that on the coming Independence Day he could see our new President. Only on that day at the big rally in Ba Dinh Square did he realize that President Ho Chi Minh was just the old man he had brought back from Ga village in his car.