III. PEACEFUL RESTING PLACES OF UNCLE HO’S
-1-
Moving Uncle Ho’s body from 75A to K84 was a precise decision made by the Political Bureau and Central Military Commission. However, the method and types of transportation had to be carefully considered by the Steering Committee. In the Soviet Union and Bulgaria, the body of Lenin and Dimitrov often stayed unchanged, so there was very little or zero experience in this field. Moreover, the requirements for the relocation set by Soviet experts were extremely stringent. Apart from the biomedical aspects, the transportation process had to ensure specified temperature and humidity conditions. The lack of these two factors would significantly impact the preservation of the body. Additionally, during the move, it was crucial to avoid any vibrations or shocks. However, the route was rugged, with potholes, sections of damaged roads, and numerous bridges stayed unrepaired.
After several meetings, the Steering Committee cautiously considered all three options for transportation: by air, by sea, and by roads. Air transport offered speed and safety, and K84 had a helicopter landing pad. Still, it couldn't avoid shocks due to the significant vibrations from helicopters. Sea transport could avoid shocks, but the prolonged duration would affect the medication-making process. Ultimately, the Steering Committee decided to opt for roads. Despite the challenges, the hurdles could be potentially navigated with this choice.
Once the use of road transportation was decided, the Steering Committee focused on addressing the limitations of this option. Firstly, regarding the need of controlling temperature and humidity, the committee decided to use ice instead of air conditioning. Previously, when welcoming Uncle Ho from the Presidential Palace to 75A and taking him from 75A to Ba Dinh Square, the medical team had successfully used ice to maintain the appropriate temperature and humidity. Of course, during the previous move, the distance was closer, so the temperature and humidity challenges were not as stringent as in this relocation. Secondly, the challenge was how to minimize shocks and vibrations. Overcoming these shocks required addressing both the vehicle and the road conditions. After calculations and considerations, the Steering Committee decided to choose the Zin 157 truck. This type of vehicle is large and robust, with three axles, experiencing less shock compared to other types of vehicles. As for the roads, the committee recognized that it was not feasible to have laborers conduct extensive repairs, as it could risk leaking sensitive information. However, without repairs, even with a good vehicle, shocks could not be avoided. The only solution was to send a reconnaissance team to assess the situation and then assign the Regiment 144 to prepare repair plans for the worst road sections and bridges during the night of the march. When the special convoy passed through, all traces had to be immediately erased to turn the bridges and roads to their original condition.
Following the Steering Committee's meeting, the personnel of Unit 295, the Department of Vehicles-Machines management under the control of General Department of Logistics, were assigned the task of researching and modifying the Zin 157 truck according to the advice of Soviet experts and the special medical team. With a sense of urgency, within just three weeks, the ordinary Zin truck was remarkably transformed, adorned with a new dark green exterior. The interior design was compact and well-thought-out, with significant improvements made to engine components, chassis, and especially the shock absorber system. The technical officers even calculated the amount of tire pressure, ensuring driving at high speed yet lowest possible shock vibrations level.
Additionally, the personnel from the Information Command were tasked with creating two large boxes. One box was designed to place Uncle Ho’s body during the march, and the other was intended to hold glass containers.
After being bombarded by the US air force, the road to K84 was severely damaged. Due to strict requirements, the Steering Committee decided to actively provide intensive training, ensuring error-free during the official move.
For confidentiality reasons, the majority of training sessions took place at night. The Zin 157 quietly left 75A as the city lit up and plunged into the night covering the fields and villages on the outskirts for countless times. The drivers simultaneously drove and observed, recording tough sections of the road. Many nights, committee members took turns lying on the truck bed monitoring shock vibrations, and observing which parts of the roads were in need of repair.
In this way, the Zin 157 rolled patiently for nearly three months, getting used to routes for six to seven hours duration. Training at nighttime, withdrawing experience at daytime. Landmarks, turns, steep sections of road... etched deep into the memory not only of the drivers but also of the committee members, making it familiar to everyone. Alongside the drivers, the forces responsible for protecting the convoy also engaged in meticulous training. Usually in the afternoons, the Regiment 144 disguised themselves, lining the road on both sides. As the sky darkened, when the Zin 157 departed, they were able to communicate with each other, informing where the vehicle's position was and where they were about to head to. Some immersed themselves in the cold rain for training, while those at home also toiled through rigorous practice. Every action, from lifting the coffin onto the truck to carefully handling glass containers and transferring chemical containers, necessitated the need for repeated rehearsals. Every move must be executed with precision, only a slight error or small collision could result in an unexpected situation. Perhaps the most challenging aspect of training was lifting the large glass container. It was enormous and slippery. After several training sessions, soldiers devised a solution: threading a conveyor belt under the container and wrapping it around the carrier's neck on both sides of the container. If the grip slipped, the conveyor belt would still secure the container.
On December 20, 1969, the meeting between the Steering Committee and the team responsible for preserving Uncle Ho's body extended past midnight. Right from the outset, the conference set the determination that no matter how challenging, they must lead and encourage each department to excellently execute the Military Party Committee's resolution, successfully completing the upcoming relocation with the requirements of speed, efficiency, punctuality, ensuring absolute secrecy and safety.
The conference simultaneously discussed the deployment of all specific tasks: restructuring the organization, deciding who would go and who would stay, developing the marching plan, organizing support troops, and deploying political work during the march as well as upon reaching the new destination. Every aspect was scrutinized and carefully considered, akin to preparing for a crucial battle. When Comrade Kinh Chi came to the conclusion of the conference, it was exactly at 2 AM.
On the following day, December 21, each department was well-disseminated with the determination from the conference. The preparations were conducted with utmost urgency. Everyone understood that the results of three months of rigorous training were about to be tangibly demonstrated. The time suddenly paused in a solemn atmosphere as people spontaneously thought of Uncle Ho. The pain of the mourning days unexpectedly reoccurred. Everyone's hearts ached, realizing that even after moving to the second world, Uncle Ho still could not rest in peace. The war showed no signs of ending, and how long Uncle Ho would endure hardship and struggle remained questionable.
- 2 -
On the morning of December 22, a special medical team was ordered, along with two Soviet experts, to go up to K84 in advance to prepare. Units of Regiment 144 secretly spread troops along both sides of the road. Every 5km, there was a station equipped with communication devices. Prior to this, the security forces had also contacted local police, getting updates on the situation in the villages along the marching route. Everything was meticulously planned to ensure absolute safety.
Exactly at 11 PM on December 23, the special convoy received orders to depart. Comrades from the Central Committee, Central Military Committee, and the Central Bureau of the South were present in full force at 75A to bid farewell to Uncle Ho. The night was cold, with the winter north wind gusting through the trees on both sides of the road. As the convoy departed, Hanoi left behind, its yellow lights gradually receded until it became a faint glow on the city's night sky. The convoy silently passed through a town, crossed a bridge, and ascended the embankment. The convoy entered a town that was already asleep. The road only had a few figures pedaling bikes, and occasionally, a military convoy running in the opposite direction, their headlights illuminating the wet stands of bamboo.
Nevertheless, the road just traveled was relatively smooth as most of it was asphalted. But the upcoming section toward the destination posed a significant obstacle for them. As the convoy emerged from the bamboo forest of the town, a narrow, bumpy road with various potholes came into view. The security forces were armed with picks and shovels, diligently filling in holes to ensure the smooth passage of the vehicles. After the convoy passed through, all traces and footprints of the special move were removed.
In addition to the Zin 157 carrying Uncle Ho’s body, there were four other vehicles. The leading vehicle was a GAZ-69A, an armored vehicle for front protection, another armored vehicle for rear protection, and finally, a vehicle for the comrades in the Command Board. As the Soviet experts' request, to tackle with unexpected events along the way, the medical team had to prepare a reserve of medicines to accompany the funeral car, ensuring sufficient drugs supplement if needed.
In the winter night, the darker sky was, the colder weather turned. Suddenly, the wind ceased, and the stars appeared faintly behind dark gray clouds. The road traversed hillsides, descended into valleys, and crossed hastily repaired bridges. The atmosphere was completely silent. Only the sound of engines and the crunching of wheels on the gravel-strewn road echoed. Each turn on a rough road prompted concerns among the people: Is our Uncle in good condition?
Doctor Nguyen Gia Quyen was assigned to sit in the same vehicle carrying Uncle Ho’s body. The weather was already cold, but the inside temperature was even colder due to ice blocks stacked around and surrounding Uncle Ho's body instead of air conditioning. Comrade I-go, the Soviet expert, volunteered to sit in the funeral car alongside Dr. Quyen. The vehicle was equipped with a telephone connecting Dr. Quyen with Comrade Kinh Chi sitting in the driver's cabin. Occasionally, Comrade Kinh Chi asked, "How's everything, is it good?" Dr. Nguyen Gia Quyen placed a pair of glasses on the coffin lid to check the vehicle's shock absorption. Every time Comrade Kinh Chi asked, looking at the glasses still lying unchanged, Dr. Nguyen Gia Quyen always replied succinctly, "Nothing has happened, sir."
As the morning light began to emerge, the last vehicle in the convoy disappeared into the forest of the base. The convoy proceeded along a road that crossed a large silvery lake covered in mist, heading up a hill. On both sides of the road, ferns and grass grew abundantly, brushing against the sides of the rough-shod vehicles. When the convoy turned off the engines and came to a stop, a significant number of people were already waiting in front of the glass house to welcome Uncle Ho. Simultaneously, both those arriving and those leaving rushed towards the Zin car carrying Uncle Ho’s body. As the rear door of the car opened, Comrade I-go and Comrade Nguyen Gia Quyen stepped out, their faces pale but unable to hide their emotions. Comrade Phung The Tai reached out to grasp the cold, large hand of Dr. I-go and asked, "Are you okay sitting in there, cold but stable, right?" "Good, good," Comrade I-go replied. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief. They understood: this meant nothing had happened to Uncle Ho’s body.
On the morning of December 24, the base was tranquil yet lively. The move was successfully completed. Uncle Ho's body was quickly brought into the glass house, and technical tasks were efficiently carried out. Other units reinforced their new accommodations. Everyone marveled at the strange beauty of the forest. In the past, when the soldiers had to cut down some pine trees to build houses and dig trenches, Uncle Ho only allowed the unhealthy trees to be cut down, all strong trees must be kept at all cost. Therefore, right in the courtyard of the large house that used to be the meeting place for the Political Bureau, a large pine tree extended arrogantly, casting its shadow over the forest. This demonstrated that Uncle Ho not only loved but also cherished the inherent beauty of nature to the fullest extent.
Notably, the local population around the unit's encampment was worth mentioning. Before 1945, this area had a small base of the Nationalist Party. During the resistance against the French, it became a trapped enemy area with French military posts. The Party's infrastructure in the region was weak, and the people's lives were difficult and lacking. Before transporting Uncle Ho’s body, the Security Department had worked closely with Party organizations and local authorities. Due to the need for secrecy, no one in the provincial party committee, district party committee, or the local people knew that their homeland was receiving a significant honor: safeguarding Uncle Ho’s body.
The initial days at K84 were extremely lacking and difficult. No one was allowed to go outside, so the main source of food was wild vegetables with dry rations, and each unit had to manage its supplies on their own. Most units, including medical, security, infantry, information, and the Foreign Affairs Department, had personnel from various units coming and going, with the new units not yet officially established, which resulted in shortages of food supply. Even when Tet holiday was just around the corner that year, the officers and soldiers only had corn porridge with vegetable soup. No matter how late it was, the unit had tried their best, sending standard Tet meals for the soldiers. Especially for the international comrades, the soldiers who traversed thousands of miles to contribute significantly to the preservation of Uncle Ho’s body received meticulous care from the Foreign Affairs Department and the unit.
After the Lunar New Year, various units joined their hands, increasing food supply for the soldiers. Many patches of land along the lake at the foot of the hill were illuminated for planting vegetables and cassava. The first flocks of chickens were ranched, marking a gradual improvement.
On February 16, 1970, the General Staff Headquarters announced the establishment of Unit 69, directly under the General Staff, with Lieutenant Colonel Nguyen Van Hanh as the Political Commissar. It was a beautiful day with the rays of spring sun casting a golden glow on the forest branches. Down below, the river flowed steadily. Looking from the hilltop, the river seemed to shine like a sharp sword. All officers and soldiers in the unit, individuals bound by a sacred mission, sat quietly and listened as Comrade Nguyen Van Hanh read the decision to establish the unit. At the end of the ceremony, everyone stood up, shoulder to shoulder, shouting: "Infinite party's loyalty, conquering challenges, preserving Uncle Ho’s body with our best."
Shortly afterward, following the decision of the Central Military Committee, the Party Committee of Unit 69 was also established. Comrades Nguyen Van Hanh, Nguyen Gia Quyen, Nguyen Van Moc, Vu Van Quan, and Dinh Viet Phung were appointed to the Party Committee.
During those challenging days, Political Commissar Nguyen Van Hanh made significant contributions to the task of building and consolidating the unit. During the day, he rolled up his pants and worked with the comrades, and at night, he pondered in the dim light to find the best ways to implement the resolutions of the Party Committee: "We must be independent, strengthen our capability, enhancing production, improving the lives of the troops, and building a mature unit in all aspects step by step."
Work-farm balance became a life for the officers and soldiers in the unit. Many local residents, upon seeing soldiers without military uniforms or insignia, diligently working the fields, mistakenly thought the place was a rehabilitation center for discharged soldiers. Therefore, during interactions, the soldiers had to remain silent and ignore teasing remarks, sometimes quite harsh, from local girls. This was a strong confirmation of the success of the confidentiality efforts.
Right after its establishment, the Party Committee of the Unit proposed resolutions regarding ensuring the livelihoods of officers and soldiers. Dining and accommodation facilities were reinforced, and the cultivation of vegetable patches, cassava, and rice was expanded, eliminating the previous scarcity of food sources. The Command Committee also organized cattle and pig farming. In addition to the green vegetable quotas allocated to each unit, each officer and soldier in the unit took turns caring for the cattle. The Command Committee also spent one day caring for the cattle alongside the soldiers on the monthly basis.
On May 23, 1970, a delegation of experts from the Lenin Institute came to Hanoi. A forensic examination board for President Ho Chi Minh’s body was formed, consisting of experts from the Soviet Union and Vietnam. After conducting an examination at K84, the board concluded that, after eight months of protection, President Ho Chi Minh’s body, in a tropical climate and despite the long-distance travel, were well-preserved externally and in all body parts, ensuring the similarity with his alive appearance.
The board further affirmed that President Ho Chi Minh’s body met all the requirements for long-term preservation. This was a highly valuable reward for the medical personnel and all officers and soldiers in the unit. They had achieved the first triumph on the journey, promising a crucial foundation for future generations tasked with preserving Uncle Ho’s body.
On August 22, Comrade Vu Van Can, a member of the Central Steering Committee from Hanoi, instructed the unit's command to prepare for the visit of the Central Delegation and Military Central Committee to pay respects to Uncle Ho. Upon receiving the order, the expert comrades and medical staff worked diligently, preparing medicines, adjusting lighting in the viewing room, and the work continued until 5 PM. Everyone understood that even a small change in Uncle Ho's familiar face would cause upset. Therefore, the expert comrades and medical staff must pay attention to details on Uncle Ho's body.
The next morning, on August 23, a simple and solemn viewing ceremony took place in the viewing chamber at the base. Central Committee members and the Military Central Committee, led by Comrade Le Duan, paid their respects in front of Uncle Ho’s body. It had been a year since Uncle Ho left. A year filled with pain and memories! Now, standing before Uncle Ho’s body, disciples, loyal comrades, were still shocked, could not believe he had left us forever instead of peacefully sleeping.
After the visiting ceremony, Comrade Le Duan met and greeted the expert comrades and the unit's command. He remarked, "Uncle Ho’s body are well-preserved, similar to Lenin's body in Moscow."
The convoy left K84 and returned to Hanoi around noon.
- 3 -
By the end of 1970, the lives of the soldiers in Unit 69 - often referred to as "Uncle's red guards" - were gradually stabilizing. The forested area not only had pine and cypress trees but also fields of cassava, corn, and rice being harvested. In the evenings, after a tense day of pharmaceutical work or field activities, the unit's officers and soldiers enthusiastically engaged in sports activities around the football field. As night fell, each unit organized gatherings, read newspapers, or participated in youth forums or cultural performances. The resolutions of the Party Committee were concretely manifested in the actions and thoughts of everyone. The consensus was that the unit would stay here and safeguard Uncle Ho’s body in this picturesque hill until the complete victory in the anti-American resistance. Plans for a long-term stay at the base had been meticulously prepared and anticipated by the Commanding Committee. However, an unexpected incident disrupted all the stable activities of the unit.
On the night of November 20, the sound of helicopters suddenly echoed through the skies above the base. People rushed outside to witness a fleet of helicopters with flashing lights flying by, seemingly connected in a formation. Initially, some thought it was our own air force conducting maneuvers. However, a moment later, when the roar of jet engines was heard, everyone understood the signals of unusuality.
On November 24, the Command Committee received an urgent message from comrade Phung The Tai: "Previously, you poured water in, now get ready to scoop water out." Though the content of the telegram was concise, the Command Committee understood the order: prepare to move Uncle Ho’s body!
The next day, comrades Phung The Tai and Kinh Chi directly visited the unit to announce the decision to relocate Uncle Ho’s body to Hanoi. Only then did people realize that the so-called "air force exercise" was, in fact, the adventurous night of the American special forces attempting to rescue their captured pilots in a prisoner of war camp. However, their mission failed as they found nothing after a fruitless search, and the prison camp was empty; the enemy forces retreated with complete failures.
Following this incident, the Political Bureau and the Central Military Command concluded that although K84 was in a remote location, its hilly terrain was highly suitable for American air raids. Moreover, the advanced electronic reconnaissance capabilities of the U.S. air force, combined with internal espionage, could easily discover this area. Although it was established that a rapid airborne assault like the one at Son Tay could not successfully seize Uncle Ho’s body, the potential clashes could severely impact the preservation efforts. Therefore, the Political Bureau decided to move Uncle Ho back to Hanoi. In Hanoi, regardless of their audacity, the U.S. air force could not conduct a sudden airborne assault as they did on November 20.
Receiving the urgent order, the Party Committee and the Command Committee convened and deployed tasks to each unit, assigning people to leave or stay behind. The unit left behind to safeguard the base's infrastructure was entrusted to comrade Vu Van Quan.
On the night of December 03, the officers and soldiers of Regiment 144 were ordered to deploy forces to protect the marching route. Two days earlier, some Soviet experts and specific healthcare officers had also set off for Route 75A to welcome Uncle Ho.
At 10 PM, the special convoy quietly left the base. The night was clear, and the wind gently swirled over the empty hills. In sections with potholes and damaged bridges, the faint figures of soldiers guarding with shovels, torches, and baskets could be seen. As the convoy passed, they silently watched as if bidding farewell to Uncle Ho and then hastily erased any traces of the move. Having gained experience from the previous relocation, this time everything proceeded swiftly and efficiently.
At 3 AM on December 04, the convoy arrived back in Hanoi. The city was deeply immersed in sleep; the biting wind felt like needles pricking into achy joints. Dry leaves curled up on the sidewalks rustled as the cold wind stirred them. When the Zin car stopped in front of Structure 75A, the Soviet experts immediately checked the two gauze pieces covering Uncle Ho's hands. The gauze remained in its original position. Everyone sighed in relief. This meant that Uncle Ho’s body had been absolutely protected during the march.
Moving from the mountainous forest area to the city center, the soldiers of Unit 69, as well as the Command Committee, felt worried-free in their tasks. Life in the capital was more convenient, with better service conditions and fewer shortages. However, just like at K84, strict secrecy must be maintained. Even comrades in the Command Committee or experts, whenever they worked on medication for Uncle Ho, had to sit in tightly sealed vehicles, and all letters sent home had to remain unsealed. Movement was highly restricted. Despite this, no one felt frustrated or uncomfortable. Everyone adhered to these regulations seriously and voluntarily, understanding that their sacrifice served a noble mission. They didn't feel deprived because Uncle Ho was always with them, in their hearts and emotions.
In the capital, the spring and summer of 1971 passed peacefully. The soldiers of Unit 69 who accompanied Uncle Ho to Hanoi continued their quiet and tense life beside his body. Those who remained at the base continued to increase production, maintain machinery, and build a solid infrastructure to get ready for Uncle Ho's return.
Life continued to quietly pass by. The citizens of the capital had no idea that Uncle Ho was so close to them. Uncle Ho was still being protected and preserved, just as when he was alive, and one day, they would have the opportunity to visit him again, as they did in early September 1969, unforgettable days in the lives of each citizen of the city.
Until the autumn of that year, another incident occurred, disrupting all the activities of the soldiers assigned to protect Uncle Ho.
During this time, Nixon announced a complete cessation of bombing in the North. The plot to sabotage the North through air and naval forces remained unchanged. They used chemicals to manipulate nature, causing floods to cut off the North's supply lines.
In the autumn of that year, the U.S. conducted 277 flights, releasing 8,312 units of chemicals over the skies of Hanoi and the mountainous regions along the Red River and Da River basins. This created strange catalytic clouds in the atmosphere, resulting in heavy, persistent rain. According to U.S. data, the water level in 1971 rose to 16 feet. Of this, 7 feet were attributed to the "Operation Popeye" chemical attacks, while the remaining 9 feet were due to the natural rainfall.
The vehicle Zin 157, was again, on duty to carry the body of Uncle Ho.
The White House believed that with such heavy rainfall, the Red River and Da River would flood, damaging dikes, submerging villages, cities, and important transportation routes. This would force our government to reduce offensives on the battlefield and make concessions in the ongoing negotiations in Paris.
In the past 50 years, the sky of the North had unprecedentedly experienced such heavy and prolonged rain. On August 18, the Dyke of the Duong River collapsed at Thon culvert, causing severe floods in the provinces of Ha Bac and Hai Hung. A densely populated area, rich in agriculture, was submerged in floodwaters, and the water level in the Red River continued to rise to a record level: 14.10m in Hanoi. During those days, the river became vast and turbid, rushing with a relentless current, carrying away many makeshift boats, bamboo rafts, and wooden debris under the Long Bien Bridge, flowing downstream. Hanoi was under threat. Many streets were flooded, water entered homes and offices. The Central Anti-Flood Committee had to consider evacuating people from the city.
Given the situation, the Command Board and the Party Committee of Unit 69 held an urgent meeting, deciding to propose to the Military Command to move President Ho Chi Minh’s body back to the base. This was because if floods occurred in Hanoi, the conditions to protect President Ho Chi Minh’s body would not be sufficient. While waiting for the decision from above, the Command Committee had to prepare for both things to come: relocating and flood prevention. During these days, Comrade Kinh Chi frequently stayed at 75A. Many officials were dispatched to survey and search for top areas in the city to move President Ho Chi Minh if the Hanoi Red River dike broke. Others prepared for the option of moving President Ho Chi Minh to high buildings at the hospital in the most urgent situation. The telephone in the Command Committee's office rang continuously, bringing reports on the water level of the Red River, the amount of rain measured during the day, and the weather forecast for the upcoming days.
On August 16, the sky remained heavy, rain continued as dogs and cats. The water level of the Red River continued to rise. The need for flood control was bustling throughout the city. Throughout the whole day, the officers and soldiers of Unit 69 were restless, continuously sending people to the Red River dike, checking for the water level. The faces of these individuals were worn out and pale from being soaked in water. No one worried about themselves, only about President Ho Chi Minh instead. They cannot imagine what would happen and how President Ho Chi Minh’s body would be if the water level of the Red River continued to rise, unexpectedly breaking the dike and flooding into the city.
- 4 -
At noon of August 18, the rain continued to pour heavily, and standing on the riverbank, the Red River became fierce. All houses and roads in the riverside area were submerged in water. On the dike, makeshift tents and beds were set up. Wet-haired children sat huddled with pillows in front of the doors.
At 1 PM, Comrade Phung The Tai personally announced the decision of the Military Command to relocate President Ho Chi Minh’s body back to the base. An emergency meeting was immediately convened, and thereafter, everyone rushed to prepare throughout the night of the 18th. As this was the third relocation, everything went smoothly. However, due to the heavy workload, it was just at the moment when two tons of ice were loaded onto the Zin 157 truck, the sun turned shine afterwards.
At 8 AM on the 19th, Comrade Kinh Chi disseminated the marching orders and, along with some officers and soldiers of Unit 69 headed to K84 in advance. During this time, Comrade Party Secretary Nguyen Van Hanh was working in the Soviet Union, so Comrade Kinh Chi had to be frequently on duty at the Unit, directly supervising the most specific tasks. At 11 AM that day, the convoy was ordered to leave construction site 75A. This relocation was implemented during the day, so all vehicles displayed emergency flags and had permits to travel on all restricted roads. Unlike previous relocations, due to many flooded areas, an amphibious vehicle that allowed the convoys to travel on both roads and sea was added to the marching formation. This time, Comrade Nguyen Gia Quyen was also assigned to sit on the vehicle carrying President Ho Chi Minh’s body. Comrades Tran Quoc Hoan, Phung The Tai also set their foot print on the convoy.
The convoy traveled in the cold rain, with city roads submerged in water. Along the marching route, rice fields were submerged as well. The atmosphere of flood prevention was urgent everywhere. The sound of bomb explosions, the splash of water from shovels echoed in the thunder, and the rain poured incessantly.
The most challenging part was still the final stretch of the journey. The road was slippery, muddy, and the convoy had to move at a very slow speed. Sitting in the vehicle carrying President Ho Chi Minh’s body, Comrade Nguyen Gia Quyen seemed unable to keep staying in the cold, and his voice through the phone was intermittent and faint. To help this, Comrade Phung The Tai decided to stop the convoy for a while to let everyone take a rest.
At 5 PM, the convoy arrived at base K84 There had been less rain, but the road leading into the base was still flooded. The Zin truck could not pass through, and Dr. Nguyen Van Chau, who was sent ahead with some other officers for industrial hygiene and prepared for President Ho Chi Minh arrival, was always present on this flooded road section. Every forty minutes, Dr. Chau waded down to measure the water level and promptly reported to Hanoi. However, when the convoy carrying President Ho Chi Minh’s body stopped on the other side of the road, the river water continued to overflow, turning the hill area into an island.
Knowing that they couldn't wait for the water to recede, the Command Committee decided to transfer President Ho Chi Minh’s body from the Zin truck to the red hearse, then transfer the entire red hearse to the amphibious vehicle. This is the only way that could work out in such a flooding area. According to the pre-planned schedule, two small rails were set up as a bridge for the amphibious vehicle to crawl onto the Páp vehicle. At the same time, the amphibious vehicle used a winch to pull while starting its engine, crawling along the two iron bars onto the truck bed. It was a stressful task because President Ho Chi Minh’s body were inside the vehicle. Only a small error could lead to serious unexpected results. Comrade Nguyen Van Suong was a driver of the red hearse that day. The cold weather did not stop Comrade Suong's forehead from sweating. Only when the red hearse lay securely on the amphibious vehicle, everyone breathed a sigh of relief. The amphibious vehicle stopped for a while, taking a break, and then slowly crawled down underwater. Around the vehicle, water rushed. The vehicle resembled a boat crossing the river. Everyone hurried onto the amphibious vehicle to enter the base area.
When the amphibious vehicle stopped, its engine turned off in front of the glass house, and two iron bars were again set up parallel behind the truck cabin. Another tense moment ensued; lifting the vehicle was already difficult, but lowering it proved even more challenging. The Red hearse’s engine started. Its rear wheels, followed by the front wheels, clung to the two rails and slowly descended. All four wheels lay neatly on the two iron bars at a 30-degree slope. Below was an empty space. Suddenly, everything fell silent, and everyone seemed to hold their breath. No one could hear the sound of the wind rushing through the pine forest. The atmosphere was filled only with the engine’s sound; the four wheels rolled slowly on the two iron bars. And when the red hearse balanced with all four wheels on the ground, everyone expressed a sense of happiness. Due to the intense tension of the duty, Comrade Suong fainted on the steering wheel.
After eight months of separation, returning to K84 this time, everyone couldn't help but marvel at the changes in the base. Although only a small group of soldiers remained in the area, the infrastructure had developed massively. To celebrate the success of the relocation, the Command Committee organized a homemade party using ingredients made from soldiers' farms.
The next day, for safety reasons, the Unit organized camouflage and dug trenches in the open spaces. Three 14.5mm anti-aircraft guns from the Engineer Brigade 20, Division 361, Air Defense - Air Force Command were also brought in to supplement the Unit, positioned on three hills around the base, forming a solid defensive stance. Additionally, in the following days, the General Staff sent another infantry company from the Division 144 to stand on the outer perimeter, willing to defend the invading enemy.
Comrade Phung The Tai remained worried still, additionally ordered the construction of bunkers around the glass house. However, the Command Committee suggested replacing the bunkers with three tanks. While the tanks served as bunkers, they offered higher mobility. The Unit's proposal was approved by the General Staff, and three T34 tanks equipped with DKZ84 cannons from the Armored Officer School were deployed in the Unit's combat formation.
With so many subordinate units, the strength of the Unit surged, but ensuring an adequate food supply faced numerous challenges. Most officers and soldiers from the newly arrived units had to sleep in hammocks. The wide standing area and concentrated dining areas made transportation and meals challenging, requiring some to travel long distances to fetch food.
In response to this situation, the Party Committee and the Command Committee focused on two simultaneous tasks: ensuring the proper preservation of President Ho Chi Minh’s body and addressing accommodation and food for each unit, especially the newly arrived ones.
Thanks to the dynamic efforts of officers and soldiers in the Unit, after a short period, all dilapidated houses were repaired, and many new houses were constructed. Luxury was not a key, but these houses were incredibly sufficient enough for the activities and work of the units.
After accommodation and food issues were solved, the Command Committee faced another difficulty: a sense of discouragement and lack of clarity regarding the tasks, especially in some newly arrived units, notably in the artillery units. Many comrades in this unit, mostly enlisted in 1962 and 1963, had undergone numerous challenges and achieved significant accomplishments, yet their ranks remained low, with no substantial resolution of political rights.
This frustration stemmed from the fact that many soldiers did not understand their purpose in being there. Thrown into active combat, they suddenly found themselves isolated in a corner of the forest, feeling idle and disconnected from the local population. They felt as if they were being punished from misconducting the discipline.
The Command Committee understood that if the soldiers in the artillery units, especially the high-altitude artillery, were clearly informed that they had an honored mission to protect President Ho Chi Minh’s body, they would be willing to overcome difficulty or even sacrifice without minding. However, principles must be strictly obeyed. Moreover, security measures of information were always a top priority, considering it the most crucial factor in accomplishing the mission. In response, the Command Committee actively encouraged and reassured the soldiers while advising the General Staff to address all issues in policies. The unit delved into the thoughts and feelings of the soldiers, addressing each specific issue. In a short period, the artillery unit became a strong and cohesive part of the Unit.
Sharing the hardships with the officers and soldiers in the Unit were Soviet experts. The primary task of these comrades was to prepare medications for President Ho Chi Minh. They were given priority in a separate area, right next to the glass house where President Ho Chi Minh’s body were kept. Regular interactions were limited to comrades within the Command Committee and the foreign affairs department. Aware that these comrades had left their families and homeland to live in this remote and challenging mountainous region for a noble duty, the Command Committee, along with the foreign affairs department, tried their best to alleviate the shortages of materials and home cares they were enduring. Being informed that Comrade Debop, the head of the expert delegation, was passionate about raising birds, the Unit assigned a man to go to Hanoi, buying a nice cage and a parrot. Comrade Debop showed his cheerful enjoyment of the gift. He would spend his whole free time, sitting in front of the birdcage, squinting his eyes, and softly whistling a tune. One night, due to preparing medication for President Ho Chi Minh until late, Debop went to bed at midnight. The next morning, when Dr. Nguyen Gia Quyen went to Debop's room, he discovered that the parrot had chewed through the cage's wire and flown away. Knowing that Debop would sleep until 10 AM, Dr. Quyen arranged for someone to go to Hanoi to buy another parrot and, simultaneously, organized the team to search in the forest. Searching for a bird in the vast forest was like "looking for a needle in a haystack." However, miraculously, just 15 minutes later, the guards found the parrot perched on a reed near a pond and skillfully caught it, bringing it back while Comrade Debop was still asleep. This small story demonstrated the heartfelt consideration officers and soldiers in the Unit towards the Soviet comrades.
In response to our kindness, the Soviet comrades, who were experts, worked tirelessly, meeting all requirements from Vietnamese colleagues. They not only carried out their duties but also shared their experiences and lessons. After each day's work, they showed up at the volleyball or table tennis court, or enjoyed a refreshing walk under the tall, golden pine trees bathed in the sunset glow behind the majestic mountain ranges.
Time passed quietly on the picturesque and tranquil hills. The river, which had swelled dramatically during the flood season, now peacefully meandered between the banks adorned with lush green reeds. Then Tet (Lunar new year) was just around the corner, a peaceful Tet indeed. People enjoyed the spring alongside blooming peach blossoms and stacks of green square glutinous rice cakes. It was a complete and undisturbed spring, the least tumultuous for the soldiers of Unit 69 since its establishment. It was the third spring without Uncle Ho for our country and our people.
- 5 -
In the summer of 1972, a fiery and blood-soaked season unfolded on the South battlefields. Following intense battles in Quang Tri, the Military Region 5, the Central Highlands and Binh Long, and elsewhere, power between us and the enemy remained unbalanced. The Liberation Army had completely taken control of many towns and urban areas, and crucial strategic roads had been damaged, disconnecting areas. The "change the color of the corpse's skin" strategy by Nixon suffered a severe blow, almost impossible to recover.
The shifts of power in battlefields led to changes in the diplomatic arena at the Paris Peace Accords. It was a high chance of signing a ceasefire agreement. However, like a wounded beast, Nixon madly threatened to bomb North Vietnam again. On the other hand, Nguyen Van Thieu, the puppet president of Saigon, clamored for the reoccupation of liberated areas. Throughout that autumn and winter, protracted battles for every inch of land took place across key battlegrounds.
Simultaneously intensifying military activities in the South, Nixon recklessly used B-52 bombers to strike back in the North, deploying naval mines to block the sea, hoping to gain an advantage before any ceasefire agreement could be signed.
All Nixon’s military plans had been well anticipated and prepared for in advance by the Central Military Committee and the Central Party Committee. Since mid-May, when news of numerous victories reached Hanoi, the Political Bureau had planned to evacuate the population and institutions in the city, suburbs, and some large industrial zones further to the countryside and mountainous bases.
During this stressful time, an atmosphere of anxiety engulfed the base. Every time the sound of airplanes traversed the skies above the base, and the distant rumbling of bombs echoed from the capital and surrounding areas, people's hearts sank, filled with unease and restlessness.
Anticipating the high chance of U.S. planes indiscriminately bombing the base, the Command decided to move Uncle Ho’s body from the glasshouse to a bunker. While transporting Uncle Ho’s body down was not too difficult due to the existing rail system, moving the glass coffin posed a considerable challenge.
After much struggle and exploration, the guard soldiers found a surprisingly simple solution: they placed a single bed sheet on top of the coffin. A wooden board with foam padding was placed underneath the coffin, tightly secured with ropes. The coffin was then tilted and lowered into the underground chamber. With this method, just 20 minutes later, the coffin had been safely relocated to the central safety chamber. In the silent efforts of the soldiers, even the smallest attempts could be considered significant achievements. It demanded not only physical strength and intelligence but also courage and responsibility in the face of an error-prone task with no room for mistakes and no time to correct them.
However, relocating Uncle Ho’s body to an underground chamber, given the escalating U.S. bombings in the North, was only a temporary measure. Although K84 was far from Hanoi, it was still within the flight pathway of U.S. planes. To guard against the possibility of a fierce retaliation, the Command decided to move Uncle Ho’s body to a safer location before July 15, 1972.
But the question of where to move Uncle Ho was a major concern for the Unit 69 Command. In late June, a delegation of officials, led by comrade Kinh Chi, undertook a challenging terrain survey. Using small boats along the riverbanks and trekking through forests and mountains, the delegation examined a series of existing structures.
After careful consideration, comparing the advantages and disadvantages of each structure, the Command ultimately decided on K2, a large cave located along the riverbank, 15 km north of K84. This structure had been developed and used for evacuating the Combat engineer headquarters offices when needed since 1966.
Viewed from the outside, the entire area of K2 was a large valley nestled deep among lush green trees, extending from the foothills to the mountain peaks. Not far from the cave were residential houses and fields of peanuts and cassava. The people in this area were simple and hardworking. The large, highly resistant cave was conveniently located for transportation due to its proximity to the road. Nevertheless, the structure also had some drawbacks: high humidity inside the cave, continuous groundwater causing water leaks in the old cave structure, and the difficulty of maintaining secrecy due to its proximity to the road and residents.
After the survey team returned with their report, the Command decided to renovate K2 as the location to preserve Uncle Ho’s body. This task was assigned to the Combat engineer headquarters with an extremely short deadline of 20 days and nights, covering surveys, design, and renovations. Although the workload was massive, the executing unit would be well-supplied to meet all technical material requirements.
On June 15, 1972, the command staff of the Combat engineer headquarters, led by comrade Bui Danh Chieu, set off in advance, and three days later, the Company 2 of the Battalion 3, and the Engineer Brigade 259's direct construction forces arrived at K2. During this period, the mountainous weather was unusually unpredictable. After each rain, the mountain air became damp and mosquitoes and leeches proliferated.
Similar to the renovation of the K84 facility, the soldiers of the Battalion 3 worked tirelessly day and night at K2. If K84 had a "light club," then K2 had a "torch club." At night, torches illuminated the cave's ceiling. The sound of stone breaking echoed amidst the sound of pouring rain. After 20 days and nights, the soldiers of the Combat engineer headquarters completed a colossal amount of work. They excavated 70m³ of earth and rock, built a 25m³ well, constructed, and renovated five rooms and three water reservoirs inside the cave, installed all the equipment for the electrical station and pump station, supplied power, water, and ensured that the construction met technical standards. Regarding the central chamber, after inspection, the experts highly appreciated the efforts to ensure ventilation and temperature. Alongside the construction, acquiring equipment and supplies also proved to be incredibly complex. Comrades retrieving machines from the Dong Anh warehouse faced U.S. bombs in the warehouse area, with their vehicle damaged severely on the way back the next day.
Those days were extremely tense, with the constant attack of U.S. planes in the sky and the thunderous roar of bombs echoing in the minds of officers and soldiers, creating a sense of anxiety.
While the engineering soldiers were busy renovating K2, the soldiers of the Division 144 focused on repairing roads and engaging in training exercises.
After the floods in 1971, the Central Military Command assigned the task of converting the amphibious truck to the General Logistics Directorate to transport Uncle Ho’s body whenever needed. The requirements for the truck conversion were extremely high, demanding maximum utilization of space, ensuring a lying bed, a seat for the commander, two rows of cabinets to contain chemical containers, and additional installations such as air conditioning, ventilation, and a telephone. Importantly, the truck had to guarantee off-road capability, high water traversal, adaptability to all terrains and weather conditions, and absolute safety during use.
After a year of research and work, the military personnel of the General Logistics Directorate produced an amphibious truck that met all the specified requirements and handed it over to Unit 69. Later, when they learned that the truck they had modified was used to transport Uncle Ho’s body during fierce wartime, the soldiers of the General Logistics Directorate felt deeply touched. Such a special honor was beyond their expectation.
For information security, training marches both by air and by roads were conducted at night. Many nights, Comrade Kinh Chi sat directly in the amphibious truck with a large bag of colored powder. Wherever the road was rough, he would pour the powder down, indicating areas that were in need of repair for the soldiers of the Division 144. After each night of such inspections, Comrade Kinh Chi's clothes and face would be covered in colored powder. Tiring, yet delighted, as with each inspection, the amount of powder scattered decreased, and the road became smoother under the amphibious truck's solid and smooth wheels.
Unlike previous marching movements, this relocation involved crossing a river. Therefore, the riverbank had to be modified accordingly.
Training nights for river crossing were exceptionally tense and exhausting. Once, as the amphibious truck crawled onto the riverbank on the downstream side, the winch hook broke. A winch pulley had to be used in conjunction because the river's current was strong, preventing the truck from reaching the riverbank. The broken winch hook pushed the amphibious truck into a "dead" state. The front of the truck was on the bank, while the rear half was submerged in water, presenting a dilemma. At that moment, a nearby civilian led a military unit conducting exercises nearby to borrow a bulldozer to help. Although they had a bulldozer, they lacked a winch. So, they had to rush to a forestry station to borrow a winch. Busy and challenging, but there was no time to delay because dawn was approaching, the movement route could be exposed, and the amphibious truck might become a target for enemy aircraft attacks.
After the aforementioned incident, Comrade Ngach, the Regiment Commander of the Regiment 144, decided to dig a large pool on the downstream riverbank, called a "boat bed," making it easier for the amphibious truck to climb up.
Another time, after completing an exercise at K84, the amphibious truck, smoothly crawling up, suddenly slid down completely under the water's surface due to the high and slippery slope. While everyone was still panicking, the amphibious truck slowly resurfaced like a submerged submarine and continued to cling to the bank. Fortunately, it was just a training session.
Through the hardships of road repairs and training exercises, almost no one thought about themselves but rather focused on a single concern: how to safely transport Uncle Ho. Therefore, until Uncle Ho was successfully moved to K2, training had to continue to ensure complete familiarity with the route and the landing site.
The amphibious truck carrying Uncle Ho’s body.
In mid-July, as the renovation of K2 under the codename H21 entered its final stages, the night exercises were temporarily halted, and preparations for the move began. On the night of the July 09, Uncle Ho’s body were carefully placed in a glass coffin. By 9:00 PM on the July 11, the convoy carrying Uncle Ho’s body received the order to depart from K84. The convoy slowly crawled through rolling hills, scattered villages, desolate on both sides of the road. The sky was dotted with constellations, and the night was somewhat silvery. The road ahead of the vehicles appeared crimson. Below, the river seemed faint, like a soft ribbon. When the convoy reached the pier, three K61 amphibious vehicles were already waiting. Despite extensive training, when the amphibious truck slowly descended towards the river, everyone's hearts beat with worry. That night, the river flowed swiftly, and frothy bubbles surged at the front and sides of the vehicles. The headlight beams swept across the river's surface, sparkling. The convoy quietly left the dock, following the swiftly flowing river. In less than half an hour, the convoy successively reached the downstream bank. Thanks to dedicated training, the river crossing went smoothly. At 12:15 AM on the July 12, the convoy arrived at K2. The vast forest suddenly fell silent for a moment, as if it was peacefully welcoming Uncle Ho’s arrival.
- 6 -
Returning Uncle Ho to K2, the activities of the unit became scattered. The unit had to be divided into three parts: one stayed in Hanoi to maintain scientific research and preserve the 75A facility; one remained at K84, while the majority of the forces moved up to K2.
For discipline maintenance, the Command decided to establish the K84 section, led by comrade Le Quang Cham. The Party Committee of the unit also proposed the formation of a K84 cell, with comrade Cham serving as the cell secretary.
Life and activities at K2 faced numerous challenges for the soldiers of Unit 69. Most sections started from scratch. Fulfilling the professional tasks and engaging in building camps at the same time, so within a short time, daily activities
To overcome food shortages, the Command sent officers to liaise with local authorities to request land for growing vegetables. Simultaneously, they maintained the available supply at K84. The livestock at K84, including chickens and pigs, gradually increased in numbers and were shared with K2.
A notable aspect was the prevalence of snakes at K2. Snakes lurked in the forest and caves, sometimes slithering under the soldiers' feet while they were sleeping or in meetings. However, after some time, snakes became a significant food source, though not everyone could trap them.
Preserving Uncle Ho’s body at K2 was more complex and arduous, especially for the medical team. Without clothes drying facility, after making medicines, team members had to carry loads of clothes through the forest and across the river to K84 for washing and drying. This routine occurred twice a week for seven months.
The soldiers assigned to foreign affairs duties also faced considerable challenges. Due to the lack of facilities and the risk of exposure at K2, specialists had to be stationed in Hanoi. Every two weeks, during the medicine-making sessions, the unit had to send vehicles to Hanoi to pick up the specialists. The transportation from K2 to Hanoi at night was difficult and demanding. Nevertheless, the dedicated specialists were committed and loyal.
In December 1972, during intensified American bombings of Hanoi, transportation of the specialists faced obstacles. The Command suggested that the specialists remain at K84 since, despite challenges, it was safer than Hanoi.
In early 1973, after significant upheavals, the life of the officers and soldiers of Unit 69 at K2 gradually stabilized. Vegetable gardens and cassava fields in the valley turned green. The hardships became familiar to the soldiers. Just when they were committed to preserving Uncle Ho’s body at K2, the Paris Peace Accords - the agreement for which countless lives were sacrificed-were signed. Nixon was forced to declare the complete withdrawal of U.S. forces from South Vietnam.
Half of Uncle Ho's wish, "Drive the Americans out, defeat the puppet regime," had been realized. This event touched the hearts of the people and soldiers across the country. Like in all other mountainous regions, news of the signing of the Paris Peace Accords quickly reached K2. Peace, those two words became incredibly sacred. While everyone simultaneously thought that Uncle Ho would no longer have to endure hardships, there would be no more B-52s, F-4s, or F-5s flying overhead, Uncle Ho would no longer have to lie in a cave, it had become a silent pain for every officer and soldier over the past year.
With the sensitivity of soldiers, the unit's commanders immediately recognized that the unit left behind was facing a new relocation. Working conditions at K2 were too difficult, and the transportation of specialists had many disadvantages. However, whether to move to K84 or 75A, no one could predict in advance.
It was approaching the end of the lunar year, and the weather was warming up. The first spring of peace was faintly returning.
On January 27, 1973, Political Commissar Nguyen Van Hanh received orders to return to Hanoi to prepare for the unit to organize the return of Uncle Ho to K84. It was just before Tet. While officials and workers in various agencies and factories were returning home for Tet with their families, the soldiers of Unit 69 were quietly preparing for a new journey. The relocation plan remained the same as before, using old means of transportation and following the old route.
After seven or eight months of disuse, the old silted-up dock was filled. Therefore, the soldiers of Regiment 144 received orders to quickly build a new dock and research the improvement of the road up the hill. The soldiers promptly began working tirelessly, day and night. After three days, the new dock was completed, and the road was opened from the riverbank to the red dirt road at the foot of K84. This road ensured that Uncle Ho’s body would be kept stable and balanced, with the slope reduced to the lowest possible level.
On the afternoon of the 30th day of Tet, all road and dock systems were completed, but there was still no order to move. Meanwhile, the unit's commander received orders to return to Hanoi to welcome the new Soviet expert delegation from Moscow. Everyone thought that if Uncle Ho’s body were to be moved to K84, it would be after Tet, at least a week later. Due to this anticipation, many units allowed officers and soldiers from nearby areas to return home for Tet.
That night, in the palm leaf-covered range at the foot of the mountain, people gathered around a cherry blossom branch to celebrate the Lunar New Year, listening to Uncle Ton’s wishes. Comrade Nguyen Van Hanh, representing the Party Committee and the Command, announced the decision to commend the teams and individuals who had excellently fulfilled their tasks in the past year. At the same time, he disseminated decisions and assigned tasks to each unit. On the morning of the first day of the new year, the cave door was broken, preparing to welcome Uncle Ho back to K84.
At that moment, everyone in the unit realized, to their amazement, that the remaining personnel, including the Command and the soldiers nurturing the unit, totaled only 25 people. 25 people faced an immense workload. Nevertheless, on the morning of the first day of the new year, 25 officers and soldiers enthusiastically and energetically engaged in their work, and by noon, the cave door was opened, and the Pap truck could enter to pick up Uncle Ho.
On the fourth day of Tet, which was February 06, 1973, after Soviet experts and the command conducted a thorough examination and review of the management of Uncle Ho’s body, the official order for relocation was announced. At 9:00 PM, the convoy left the cave for the riverbank. It seemed that until then, the local residents became aware of the honor entrusted to their homeland. They quietly lined up on both sides of the road. The glimmer in their eyes, the raised hands waving goodbye, and the hesitant smiles spoke volumes about their sentiments toward Uncle Ho and the soldiers of Unit 69.
The convoy smoothly left the riverbank, following the current and crossing to the other side where lights served as signals. The river flowed gently in the spring, and a thin layer of mist covered both sides, resembling a gigantic, ethereal voile. As the Pap truck arrived at K84, all officers and soldiers were present under the riverbank to receive Uncle Ho. Silently, they carried His body out of the vehicle, carefully advancing on the cleared and improved path. The "guard soldiers" respectfully and solemnly shouldered Uncle Ho’s body. That night, the sky was filled with bright stars. The forest leaves and wildflowers fell along the path, occasionally releasing a few soft petals onto Uncle Ho’s body. The forest exuded the fragrance of spring. This was the first time in four years that the soldiers of Unit 69 had shouldered Uncle Ho’s body on a long journey like this.
When everyone emerged from the glass house where Uncle Ho’s body were kept, domestic and wild chickens began to crow. The relocation task was completed, marking the fifth relocation of Uncle Ho’s body. In the future, when the country is fully unified, comrade Vu Ky recounted the arduous journeys, crossing rivers, mountains, staying in forests, and caves with Uncle Ho’s body after His passing. Many people couldn't hold back their tears upon hearing these stories.
Meanwhile, in the morning of the day after Tet, the officers and soldiers of Unit 69, having completed their task in the fifth relocation, immediately thought about the sixth relocation, which was sure to be the final one: welcoming Uncle Ho back to the capital, back to his eternal home, now being finalized by architects through the last design drafts, and construction forces gearing up for the groundbreaking ceremony.
