FRENCH SURRENDER AT DIEN BIEN PHU

Rugged mountains surround Dien Bien Phu

When the French Army decided to establish this far away military base called Dien Bien Phu, France’s top general in Vietnam believed the rugged landscape would make it impossible for Viet Minh rebels to bring heavy artillery to this remote place. In a feat of incredible military logistics, the Vietnamese proved them wrong. Viet Minh soldiers managed to haul heavy cannons, and other heavy weapons many miles over harsh dirt trails, over mountains and through thick jungle to get here. They were even able to cross remote rivers that lacked bridges to reach this remote northwestern Vietnam valley.

I’m now looking at the cannons that they hauled over those mountains more than half a century ago. Walking into town, I’ve come across a display of Viet Minh heavy weapons outside a museum. Most are Chinese or Soviet made guns given by the communists, but I spot a 105 mm howitzer that’s American made. Used by the Vietnamese in Dien Bien Phu, weapons such as this were key to the Viet Minh’s victory over the colonial army and the French Foreign Legion. 

Viet Minh weapons used against French in Dien Bien Phu. US made howitzer is at right.

Following a battle plan developed by Vietnam’s General Giap, thousands of Viet Minh soldiers swarmed into the surrounding mountains. They eventually outnumbered the French, and put Dien Bien Phu under siege. Once the Viet Minh had enough artillery and ammunition stocked up, they opened fire down into this valley. As they returned fire from the valley below, French gunners found themselves at a disadvantage. After days of bombardment,  they were unable to knock out the Viet Minh’s heavy guns.

The French artillery commander knew they were doomed, and he committed suicide.

It occurs to me that this US made 105mm weapon had a long road to get here, even beyond the long jungle trail trek. This howitzer may have been used by many different armies. The Viet Minh used it here in Dien Bien Phu to kill French soldiers. Before that it was captured from the French, who brought it to Vietnam to kill Viet Minh soldiers. Since this was American made, it may have even been used by the US Army even earlier during World War II, to kill Japanese soldiers in the Pacific.

Some of the weapons in Vietnam have had a very long career of death.

I end my day in Dien Bien Phu, in the place where the long siege and battle ended. As the fighting raged on for almost two months, surrounding hills were lost, retaken, and then lost again. French forces fell back to the command center near the lone bridge over the Nam Yum River. The final post to fall was here: the command bunker of General Christian De Castries.

Propaganda photo of battle for bridge(Source:Museum)

Same bridge today, still used by local residents

A light rain is subsiding, as I approach the old bunker. An unlikely headquarters for a commander, it doesn't look prestigious. Half cylinders of corrugated metal form the fortified roof, which slopes downward into the ground to form the bunkers. Sandbags fill in gaps for protection.

Interior of command bunker, where French General surrendered to Vietnamese

Walking down the steps, I enter the commander’s last refuge. The bunker beneath has four rooms; headquarters for the besieged French forces. As opposed to other glorified monuments I’ve seen dotted around Dien Bien Phu, this one is low key. There are no large communist statues, and no propaganda photos posted inside. There is just a gloomy, nearly bare bunker. There are maps on the wall, along with a few tables and chairs. When the General still lived down here, his furniture was far more comfortable. He even had his own bathtub down here; it now sits in a local museum.

It has a quiet, a morose atmosphere. I’m the only one down in this old bunker. But this is perhaps the most important location in the whole valley. When this bunker was finally captured by the Viet Minh, the French surrendered, and the bloody battle ended.

I watch water drip down from the ceiling from today’s lingering rain. Seasonal rains gave the French Army a lot of trouble back during the siege, and the foul weather was a major factor in the battle. Although French planes dominated the skies overhead, air power did them little good when bad weather kept their planes grounded. Without planes in the air they couldn’t be resupplied, and fog kept the Viet Minh safe from air attack.

Couple the foul weather with Viet Minh anti-aircraft fire, and even air supremacy couldn’t save the French soldiers surrounded at Dien Bien Phu. The runway I had landed on where I arrived yesterday, was continually targeted by artillery back in those days. Soon the runway was littered with craters and wrecked cargo planes.

Viet Minh soldier waves flag over French command bunker (Source:Museum)

Same command bunker, preserved today

In the closing days, France even requested help from American bombers to save their troops. Always opposing communists, the US had already been clandestinely aiding French forces here with resupply flights and air drops by parachute. President Eisenhower seriously considered the French request. But in the end he didn’t approve aerial bombing, and the French colonials were doomed.

When the French finally ran out of ammunition and supplies, their surrender soon followed, and the carnage ended. By that time more than 1,700 French soldiers were dead. Exhausted and weakened from their ordeal, more than 11,000 French soldiers surrendered. It was a dark day for the French empire, and a humiliating defeat. The surviving prisoners of war were marched off to distant camps. Less than half survived their captivity.

A rainbow is seen over the mountains of the now peaceful Dien Bien Phu

For the Vietnamese, their casualties were far higher. After Giap used trench warfare and human wave attacks to overwhelm French positions, more than 10,000 Viet Minh were left dead on the battlefield. It was a costly and bloody victory, but victory nonetheless. In negotiations that followed with France, North Vietnam won their independence.

There is an eerie feeling about this quiet, empty underground bunker. Despite the spartan conditions, real history took place here. While I sit and ponder the past at a table in the bunker, the bare overhead lights dim. Then they brighten, and dim again.

Then the lights go out completely.

The symbolism isn’t lost on me. With the surrender of the French forces in this very bunker, the lights went out on the French empire in Indochina. 
 
**NOTE** My other related story is here: DIEN BIEN PHU: BORN FROM THE ASHES OF WAR

DIEN BIEN PHU - BORN FROM THE ASHES OF WAR

Mountains overlook an old French tank, next to the Dien Bien Phu runway

The twin propellers of the ATR-72 hum loudly, as our plane flies high over green, forest covered mountains.  Looking out the window, white clouds below seem to be skipping across the mountain tops of northwestern Vietnam. A long brown river curves between the peaks, meandering through the remote landscape below. Scanning the horizon, I see very few signs of civilization. I’m flying over rugged terrain; mountains very close to the Laotian border. Passing over a final ridge, the mountains part to make way for a long valley. My ears pop as the pilot dips our wings, descending to a lone runway down on the valley floor.

Upon landing, I follow two old Vietnamese men out the plane's door, and onto the tarmac. These two seniors have been here before; they're war veterans, but they didn’t fight Americans. One sports a long Ho Chi Minh beard. Although wearing civilian clothes, they both wear Vietnamese Army pith helmets over their greying hair.

Down at the end of the airstrip, I make

Vietnamese victory monument overlooks the town

out the outline of an old wrecked tank sitting in the grass. This is a civilian airport now, but originally this was a runway on a French military base. In 1954, world news focused on this remote Vietnamese valley. A massive battle took place for control of this runway, and the French base surrounding it. This remote place became a hell for the French soldiers who fought here, and a victory for the Viet Minh. This is where Vietnamese pride was restored, and where Vietnam’s independence was re-established. This is Dien Bien Phu.

When the Viet Minh defeated the French Army here after a 57 day siege, the western world was stunned. Their alarm was not just about the loss of another distant colony. The cold war was already in full swing, so western countries were shocked that for the first time, a European army had been decisively defeated by a communist army.

I debated whether I should come here or not, since the battle for Dien Bien Phu took place long before the American War. But, I decided the journey here was necessary. If I was to really understand Vietnam today, I had to travel to the battlefield where Vietnam’s independence was reborn in the past.

Since I’ve arrived in Dien Bien Phu close to the battle’s anniversary, my trip coincides with half price flights offered by Vietnam Airlines for veterans to return to the battlefield. That explains the two old vets on my flight. Not that the regular fare is too expensive for me; my regular fare ticket was only $112 roundtrip from Hanoi. Passing through the small terminal, the veterans leave with some local soldiers, and I taxi off to my hotel. After dropping my luggage, I head out to see the town.

Lizards on sale in the Dien Bien Phu market!

After the shooting stopped here in 1954, the Vietnamese rebuilt this former battlefield into a major regional town. Proud of their victory in Dien Bien Phu, it was named capital of Lai Chau Province. It took a great deal of labor to transform this ruined valley full of bomb craters into a provincial capital. After the French surrender, there wasn’t much left above ground that was habitable. Rebuilding took years. To improve access to Dien Bien Phu, the rugged road through the mountains was improved and paved into a highway. I could have taken that cheaper road route to get here, but that would have meant enduring a nauseating 14 hour bus ride through the mountains to travel here all the way from Hanoi. With that in mind, I opted for a flight. 

As modern homes were built Dien Bien Phu was reborn, and business grew. A nearby border crossing has improved commerce to Laos, though trade is limited. As I walk around town, I find more construction is in progress in this growing town. Building here can still be hazardous today, with tons of old shells buried underground. Unexploded munitions left over from the long battle still remain scattered all over the valley.

Hill tribe women in the town market

Heading through downtown, I walk into a street market. A chicken wire container catches my eye, and within is a commodity that I’ve never seen sold in a market anywhere. Lizards! Grey with white stripes, there are more than 30 of the foot long lizards packed inside. I doubt that the lady vendor is selling these as pets. Could they be for some kind of local delicacy?

Also in the market, I see shoppers from local hill tribes, wearing colorful woven clothing and head dresses. There are Hmong and Thais still living in town, while others drove down on motorbikes from surrounding mountain villages. A century ago hill tribe folk made up the majority of the provincial population, but they are gradually being outnumbered. As more ethnic Vietnamese move in, Dien Bien Phu has surpassed 20,000 residents. 

Leaving the market, I make my way on foot to the battle site known as Eliane 2. This was one of many heavily fortified,  hilltop French firebases around the valley, and was key to their overall defense. The town’s main street goes right by the base of the hill, and I head for the top. Ascending the hill I pass barbed wire, an old captured tank, and reach the command bunker at the peak.

Trenches from the 'Eliane 2' battle

Fighting here was much like WWI trench warfare

Like I had seen at the Khe Sanh battle site, some bunkers and trenches of this old stronghold have been rebuilt. With visitors and veterans returning to Dien Bien Phu, they had to make this former battleground secure for tourists. To do so, the army removed all the unexploded munitions and landmines across Eliane 2. Then they repaired the old dugouts, redug the trenches, and installed these strange, fake sandbags made of concrete. Like most of the other former foreign bases in Vietnam, the original bunkers were probably all torn apart by locals after the war for scrap. What’s here now may not be authentic material, but at least it’s fairly safe.

Many trenches zig-zag around the hillside. French Foreign Legion troops dug in deeply, building a trench network to hold the line against advancing Viet Minh. Stepping down into a trench, I peer into some of the bunkers along the old trench line. Life for all the French forces trapped here was dirty, muddy, and miserable. Fighting here was fierce trench warfare, much like the fighting on the Western Front of France  during World War I.

Looking out of an old 'Eliane 2' bunker, new houses can be seen

 

A huge bomb crater from the battle has been preserved on the hill

I look up out of the trench, and I’m surprised to see one of the old Vietnamese veterans who was on my flight walking nearby. It’s the shorter vet with the goatee, and he has changed out of his civilian clothes into a full army uniform. I’m astonished at the number of medals he’s wearing; there must be 15 of them across his chest. I wonder if he fought here, as Eliane 2 saw some of the most intense fighting of the battle, including hand to hand combat. Paratroopers and French Legionnaires fought off wave after wave of Viet Minh attackers day and night, until they finally ran out of ammunition and were overwhelmed.

A Vietnamese war veteran walks alone on the old 'Eliane 2' battlefield of Dien Bien Phu

As I watch the old Viet Minh soldier, he looks over the trenches, slowly walking alone across the quiet hillside. Then he stops, and gazes down the hill. What he’s looking at, is a large military cemetery across the street, below Eliane 2. Hundreds, perhaps thousands of his dead Vietnamese compatriots are buried there. So many men died in the long fight for this strategic hill.

Still wearing his pith helmet, the old veteran’s face looks stoic, but I can tell that he’s in deep thought. I wonder what he’s thinking. Is he remembering the bloody battle for this hill, more than a half century ago? Is he recalling the loss of old friends, buried beneath those headstones?

Then he turns and walks away, rejoining a group of veterans further down the hill. It doesn’t matter what side a soldier was on, or what war he was in. So much of the pain that a war veteran endures, is endured alone.

MEETING THE FORMER ENEMY VIET CONG

Entrance to the old citadel outside Nha Trang

He’s way over 70 years old, but there’s still something youthful about him. Through his small set of glasses, you can still see a genuine sparkle in his eyes. Although he’s gaining in years, he hasn’t lost any of his charisma. He can’t hear out of one ear anymore, but he can hear well enough. Like most Vietnamese, he’s small in stature, though stocky. Although retired, he remains active, and does tai chi in the park every morning for execise.

This friendly man’s name is Ho, as in Ho Chi Minh, and he was a Viet Cong soldier for 21 years. Ho fought the French, and Ho fought the Americans. I happen to be the first American that Ho has encountered, since the war ended.

Ho, the former Viet Cong captain

Ho wasn’t just a low level Viet Cong soldier or cadre. By the time his long military service ended, he had risen through the ranks to become an officer. Ho eventually became a captain, commanding 300 men and women around the coastal town of Nha Trang.

For a senior who has been through so much, Ho seems remarkably healthy. He was wounded from an American bomb in early 1973; that’s why he's deaf in one ear. Ho still has shards of shrapnel that remain in his body from that bomb. That explosion ended his long military career. Ho married, but due to the wars his wife rarely saw him over the years. She lived in the city, while Ho slept in a cave. Those were tough years for this tough little man. Ho’s a real survivor.

I happened to meet Ho in a memorial park in the old Dien Khanh Citadel outside of Nha Trang. This centuries old citadel was first built by the royal Nguyen Dynasty. The French later occupied it, and during colonial days it was a base for the French Foreign Legion. Years later, it became a US Special Forces base, a post for the famed Green Berets. During the American war, Ho commanded troops that attacked this citadel several times. Ho admitted that their attacks were mostly small scale, just firefights shooting over the ramparts. They never managed to take the fort from the Americans. These days he works inside this same citadel, and the military base is gone. His present workplace is a community veterans center that he manages.

From the moment I meet him, Ho seems genuinely glad to meet me. He’s seen other American tourists in Nha Trang, but he never had an opportunity to speak to them. None of them come way out here outside town, and it was here on the grounds of the old fortress that he approached me and my translator.

Ho has two daughters, and he asks if I’m married. When I tell him not, he says with a smile, “You should get a Vietnamese wife!”

War memorial in the old citadel

 Ho’s not referring to his own daughters, of course. They’re already married, and have blessed him with grandchildren.

Ho asks me if I know about agent orange, and I tell him I do. Then he says, “I don’t fight anymore, but I still fight for justice for agent orange.” Ho has suffered health problems due to agent orange exposure. That’s not surprising, since he spent most of the American war out in the forests, which were targeted for defoliation. “Your government paid money to its soldiers who had disease from agent orange,” Ho says, “but still they give no money to Vietnam.” That's not entirely true, though I'm not going to argue with him. The US government has given some money to Vietnam to help clean up agent orange sites, but the amount has been woefully inadequate.

With all Ho’s been through, I’d think that he would still despise Americans, yet he doesn’t. I ask him what he thinks of Americans today, and he’s quick to reply, “No hate. No hate.” To him, the war is far in the past.

As I’m leaving, he uses both his hands to shake mine. Then he says to me again with that twinkle in his eye, “You should marry a Vietnamese woman!”

Ho’s said that to me twice during our brief time together. After all he endured from fighting the US, he still would like an American to marry a daughter of Vietnam. 

For such a small man, he seems to have a great capacity for forgiveness.