The Platoon Without Windshields
Originally written by Pham Tien Duat
An English adaptation by Nicole Nightingale
As a British expat spending eleven years in Vietnam — from my secondary school days through the early years of university — “The Platoon Without Windshields” was one of the most notable war poems ever taught to me, and remains one of the most indelible pieces etched into my memory.
In its sparseness, the poem carries not only the exhaustion of a talented generation, but also their peculiar, almost defiant grace. Many of those soldiers were college students, no older than their American counterparts across the frontlines.
Such young, dreamy, humourous souls…
Anyway, in translating this work, I have chosen to preserve its dry humour, its unembellished dignity, and its quiet acceptance of hardship; those small ironies of endurance which, in their own way, transcend both geography and ideology.
Enjoy!
***
We don’t have windshields,
Bombs jolted, thunder rolled, the glass shattered.
Calmly, we sit at the wheel,
Facing earth, facing sky, facing whatever lies ahead.
See the wind bitter our eyes,
See the road run straight to our heart,
See the stars and sudden wings of birds,
Falling, rushing into the cabin.
No windshield? So be it, let there be dust!
Dust whitens our hair, spraying years unearned,
“Needn’t wash, let me light a cig.”
Faces streaked with dirt, we laugh: Haha!
No windshield? So be it, let there be wet clothes!
The downpour beats, showering sky above,
“Needn’t change, keep eyes on the road.”
When this rain breaks, winds blow, dry us soon.
The trucks emerge from falling bombs,
Gather here, a platoon takes form.
We meet friends along the way,
“Let us shake hands, comrade!”
Through shattered frames that have been for days.
We set Hoang Cam’s stove beneath open sky,
Shared bowls, shared chopsticks, means family alright.
Hammocks swaying with the rumbling track,
Onward. Onward. The sky turns more azure.
No windshield, no headlights,
No roof, scratched-battered truck beds,
Yet we still drive, for the South ahead,
As long as…
There’s a heart within the cabin.
1969