Stationed" in the middle of autumn night in Hanoi
Hanoi in the early days of September 2025 brings an unusually solemn and heroic beauty. The whole country is heading towards the milestone of 80 years of national independence. At the editorial office of Lao Dong Newspaper, the atmosphere is tense as a zither. Combat duty plans, diagrams of bridge points, livestream scripts and dozens of backup plans have been planned and ready by the Multimedia Communication Center. I and the "Media team" were assigned the task of "stationing" at the central location: Ba Dinh Square.
At 6 pm on September 1st, joining the flow of people flocking to the streets around the Ho Chi Minh Mausoleum area, we also started our "battle" of work. The "Media Team" of Lao Dong Newspaper working at Ba Dinh Square includes 3 brothers carrying dozens of kilograms of equipment on their shoulders, from cameras, cameras, tripods, super telephoto lenses... to direct transmission equipment, laptops, phones...
At 11 pm on September 1st, the entire equipment battlefield was set up.
Field party and sleep by Uncle Ho's Mausoleum
Ba Dinh night is quiet but flows with a special breath of life. On the press podium, reporters from dozens of central and local press agencies sat close together. "Eating and sleeping on the spot" is not an exaggeration for journalists, especially for photo and film reporters. To maintain the most beautiful working position, we are not allowed to leave our positions.
The night meal took place quickly with a few loaves of bread and cups of thick coffee mixed quickly. We often teased each other, calling this a "thousand-star field party" in the heart of the Capital.
When Hanoi's autumn night mist soaks through each layer of clothes, we lie down right on the equipment bags, spread out raincoats to take a nap, tightly hug the camera backpack as a pillow. Sleep is intermittent and interrupted by the times we wake up to check the camera cover, but it helps us recharge enough energy for a long day ahead.
Historic dawn and high-speed race
At 4:30 am on September 2nd, the Square woke up. Reporters simultaneously woke up. The machinery was uncovered, and the parameters were checked again.
At exactly 6:30 am, the Commemoration Ceremony officially began. The sound of 21 rounds of cannons from Thang Long Imperial Citadel echoed, harmonizing with the heroic National Anthem.
Boom! Boom! Boom! The vast footsteps of the armed forces blocks entering the square.
Aperture f/5. 6. Speed 1/1000s. Camera noise booms... boom... boom.
My hand quickly operates. The speed of the shutter catches each drop of sweat rolling on the sunken cheeks of the soldier, each steadfast eye of the female special forces unit. Then comes the unprecedented grandeur of the military equipment...
For more than 2 hours, I stood rooted to the spot, bending over, stretching high, twisting myself in all kinds of positions to avoid blind spots, trying to capture the most valuable angles. The September sun began to rise, the wet polo shirt stuck tightly to my back. The arm holding the camera with the heavy telephoto lens began to wear out, trembling violently, but my index finger still resolutely did not leave the shutter button. The heartbeat at this moment had harmonized with the marching rhythm under the square.
Honor of a journalist
At 10 am, the final parade passed through the stand area, heading towards the streets of the Capital amidst the enthusiastic waves of the people. The anniversary ended successfully. I dropped my camera off my backpack, sat down on the brick floor, panting, then turned on my computer and phone and immediately sent photos and videos to the editorial office. The whole team of reporters were exhausted, but all smiled brightly when completing this special task.
So that millions of readers across the country can burst into emotions through each frame, the most realistic film, behind that brilliance are the sleepless nights of "eating mist, sleeping on the streets", sticking to the end of journalism.
Hanoi that day, the sky was blue with a color of hope. We packed our tools again, put our backpacks on our shoulders, preparing for the next hot spots of journalism. The fire of the profession in our hearts is like the red flag with a yellow star on the Hanoi flagpole, still proudly flying.
