The DMZ - September 23
During the ride out to Dong Ha, where we were scheduled to pick up our tour guide, the driver, Quang, blasted synthesized instrumental versions of 1960’s pop music over the van’s distorted speakers. The songs were strung together like some bizarro karaoke medley. Quang eyed us in the rear view mirror as he smoked cigarettes and sucked coffee out of a small plastic bag with a straw. Lan rode shotgun and did his best to communicate to our non-English speaker driver through hand signals.
Our guide, Yien, a middle aged man with long salt and pepper hair and a toothless grin, grew up near the DMZ. He was seventeen when the war ended which meant that he narrowly avoided being drafted by the South Vietnamese Army. His brother was a lieutenant who fought for the south and, after the war ended, was sent for re-education. I asked Yien if he knew of any VC in his village during the war. His response: “Of course, everyone did, but we never said anything because if we did we would have been killed.” On a side note, the term “VC” or ”Viet Cong” is actually a derogatory term for a communist similar to the English language usage of “pinko” or “commie”.
After we left Dong Ha, we headed east on Highway 9 toward the Laotian border. Our first stop was at The Rockpile, a Marine Corps lookout that Yien said constantly shelled the area throughout the war. Nothing remained at the sight except for, well, a pile of rocks. Then we headed to Dakrong Bridge, significant because on the other side of the bridge was part of the Ho Chi Minh trail, now a paved highway leading to the border.
Next up was the Khe Sahn Combat Base. On January 21, 1968 there was a 75 day siege on the base that laid waste to 500 US soldiers, 10,000 North Vietnamese troops and god knows how many civilians. The soil around the area is, to this day, still unusuable due to the napalm, white-phosphorus shells and mortars that were used during the fight. The interesting part of the bloody battle was that it was a decoy by the NVA to draw attention away from the forthcoming Tet Offensive. At Khe Sahn, the American military was prepared for the fight. The Tet Offensive, however, caught them off guard.
Around the compound there were downed American helicopters and re-created sand bag bunkers. A quaint musuem displayed communist propaganda and various small arms used by the NVA in defeating the “American Imperialists”. Outside the musuem, a young Vietnamese man tried to sell me American dog-tags and North Vietnamese combat medals, all of which Yien maintained were real. I had my doubts.
When we completed the sights along Highway 9, we turned around and retreated back to Highway 1 which lead north to the DMZ. On the way, Lan asked Yien, “So, when the Chinese invaded after the war, you guys kicked their fucking ass, right?” Yien replied and nodded with a toothless smirk, “Of course.” Lan followed up by asked Yien if the Vietnamese people felt abandoned after the US pulled out. “No,” Yien said confidently, “we felt liberated.” He went on, “Only the people in the cities, mostly Saigon, felt abandoned and that was because they made money off of the Americans. To us, living out in the country, we had nothing. You have to understand, Vietnam belongs to the Vietnamese. All through our history we have had many foreign countries interfere. We have defeated them all.”
Yien also told us that Vietnam had been at war for over forty years, starting with the Japanese invasion during World War II, continuing with the French shortly thereafter, then the Americans, Cambodians and Chinese. It was not until 1986 that Vietnam had some sembelence of peace.
The DMZ itself was not much to look at, just a large swath of green land dividing what used to be North and South Vietnam. Yien informed me that before the war with the Americans had started, Canada had peace keeping troops patrolling the area. Once the Americans arrived, he said, Canada left.
As we continued on to the Vinh Moc tunnels, Lan began to run off his mouth. The man was a walking contridiction. He would say things like:
(To Fabiola) – So would you be considered a spic?
Fabiola: That’s a derogatory term.
Lan: I know, but who would you consider a spic? I mean, you don’t look like a spic. I mean, I would never have guessed that you were from Mexico.
Fabiola: You’d better ask someone who uses words like that, not me.
OR
(To both Fab and I)
My friend has this Filipino girlfriend and she told me before I came that I should watch out for the Vietnamese because they were no better than niggers. Personally, I don’t see it. I think the Vietnamese are basically nice people.
OR
Abu Ghraib? Big deal. That type of shit happens during fraternity hazings all the time back in the US.
Then he would say stuff like:
Our country is completely unable to learn from its mistakes. I mean, look at our history. We haven’t learned shit.
OR
I wish more Americans would travel outside our country, that way we could get some perspective on why the world views us the way they do. It’s just that our government makes us fear other people.
The Vinh Moc tunnels were frightening. Not because the tunnels were dark and claustrophobic, but because people actually lived in them for years. There are 2.8km of tunnels at Vinh Moc, some more than 50m underground. Inside the tunnels there were living quarters, a meeting room, a kitchen, a medic room and even a room for watching films about the war’s progress.
We spent close to a half hour underground and that was more than enough for me. Ten years? I tell you, after spending a couple weeks in Vietnam, these people are tough motherfuckers.
