As the Northwest mountains blaze under the May sun, memories of a legendary Điện Biên - “resounding across five continents, shaking the globe” - return with poignant clarity for the soldiers who lived it. Though the war ended 71 years ago, every march, every river and stream crossed, every silent night spent hauling artillery, and every cry of “charge” under fire comes rushing back as if it happened yesterday.

I visited veteran Phạm Đức Cư in Nam Thanh ward, Điện Biên Phủ city, on an early May afternoon. His modest home, nestled behind C4 Market, had just been given a fresh coat of paint. At 95, his eyes still shine bright, his voice firm and resolute. “I was an anti-aircraft gunner in Regiment 367. It’s been 70 years, but I’ve never forgotten those days, not once,” he paused, looking toward the endless blue sky.

He shared that in 1949, at just 19 years old, hatred of the enemy and a deep sense of patriotism led the young man from Thái Bình to enlist in the army. In 1952, he was selected to study anti-aircraft artillery techniques in China, a new weapon that would prove strategically vital against France’s air superiority. By late 1953, his battalion, code-named “Trần Đình,” secretly returned to Vietnam and marched to the battlefield.

“Marching to Điện Biên was harsh, child. Each cannon weighed more than 2 tons and took 80-100 men to pull. We moved only at night, no lights, no sound, just two soldiers holding pieces of white parachute cloth to guide the way. One wrong step and both man and cannon would fall into the abyss,” he recalled. Each night, they could move just over a kilometer. Bloodied heels and burning shoulders, yet not one soldier gave up.

When they reached the Mường Thanh basin, the artillery was stationed to surround the French stronghold, forming a dense anti-aircraft fire network. As Cư proudly stated, these anti-aircraft guns “guarded the skies of Điện Biên.” Over 56 days and nights of combat, Regiment 367’s anti-aircraft unit shot down 62 aircraft, including the B-24 “flying fortress,” the pride of the French air force.

His home’s walls are adorned with medals and photographs of comrades. At one point, he owned a treasure trove of wartime relics: notebooks, photos, communication gear, letters, documents… But to him, these items were not just personal keepsakes, they were historical legacies.

He donated most of his collection to the Điện Biên Phủ Victory Museum. “Each artifact tells a story. If I keep them to myself, they will be forgotten. In the museum, students, citizens, visitors… everyone can see, understand, and appreciate the past,” he said.

Another historical witness I met was veteran Bùi Kim Điều, a communications soldier from Regiment 165, Division 312, the unit that launched the opening assault of the campaign. Also 95 years old, he lives with his children near the provincial Border Guard Command. Inside his humble home hangs a framed photo of him with two former comrades during a 2024 visit to the French General De Castries’ command bunker. Their warm smiles, etched in wrinkles, their eyes full of memories. Though age has slowed his steps, his voice remains steady and strong when recalling those historic May days.

In his memory, the 25-day march from Thanh Hóa province to Điện Biên was both arduous and sacred. “When we received letters from Uncle Hồ and the motivational order from General Võ Nguyên Giáp, we passed them hand to hand, reading by oil lamp, our hearts burning with excitement,” he recalled with pride. On March 13, 1954, his unit led the assault on Him Lam: “Our artillery opened fire relentlessly, then the infantry surged forward like a flood. Him Lam fell. Our tattered victory flag flew above the enemy stronghold, our first great success.”

He passionately recounted the heroic act of Phan Đình Giót, who used his body to block an enemy bunker. “None of us thought about dying, we just thought about defeating the enemy so others could move forward. After Giót fell, we charged even harder, like a storm sweeping the enemy away.”

Tears welled in his eyes as he remembered the days spent digging trenches to cut off Mường Thanh airfield, a move that paralyzed French logistics. “It rained. We could not cook rice, we ate dry, roasted grains and drank muddy water. The trenches flooded up to our knees, mixed with silt and blood. We could not even recognize each other through the mud. But when we cut the runway, we hugged each other and laughed, laughed through tears.”

Both veterans Điều and Cư often spoke of sacrifice. Like Tô Vĩnh Diện, who used his body to block a cannon’s fall. “That victory came from the blood and bones of my comrades. No one wants war. But as soldiers, we had to win. Without victory, this country wouldn’t be what it is today,” said Cư, his voice choked with emotion.

Seventy-one years after the victory, both men are in their twilight years. Though their health is waning, they still embody the noble spirit of “Uncle Hồ’s soldiers.” They do not dwell in the glory of the past but quietly serve their communities, passing on the flame of patriotism. Whenever invited to speak about the Điện Biên Phủ victory, they become quick and animated, their eyes lighting up with pride. “We were soldiers, we lived for our country. Now that we’re old, we just hope the younger generation never forgets what their forebears sacrificed to protect this flag. I always tell my grandchildren: Never forget Điện Biên, where our ancestors wrote the anthem of independence in blood.”

In every story and memory shared by these Điện Biên soldiers, we do not just see the fire of war, we also see the humanity and courage of Điện Biên. Amid today’s fast-paced world, their simple stories are beacons of history, reminding future generations never to forget those fiery days. Perhaps that, more than anything, is the enduring victory of the Điện Biên soldiers.