MISSING IN ACTION MYSTERY

US made armored vehicles in Hue, captured from the South Vietnamese Army at the war's end

Today I'm in the old capital Hue inside the Citadel. I'm outside the Imperial Enclosure, and as I'm strolling along Thang Street, I chance upon what is known as 'The Conflict Museum’. It's easy to find, since big American made tanks and armored vehicles are parked right out front. Although armor was used by the US military to retake the Citadel in 1968, plaques beneath these heavy vehicles state that most were captured at Tan My Port in 1975, as the war ended. The plaques don’t mention they were abandoned by ARVN troops, who were trying to board ships and escape south.

Buying a ticket, I find the section on the American war, and prepare myself to sort through what is truth, and what is propaganda. There is plenty of both, but I’ll be shocked at what else I find here.

At first, the museum is heavy on weapons, documents, and old photos. There's an emphasis on the torture of captured communists by the ‘puppet’ soldiers, and by the US. Like in the ‘War Remnants Museum’, these atrocities were documented elsewhere. Of course

US made bombs on display in the museum

there's no mention of torture inflicted by the communists themselves. For all their focus on atrocities, one of the most horrific events of the war here in Hue, is not mentioned in the museum at all. In 1968 when the communists took the city, they rounded up and massacred 3,000 of Hue’s citizens. It was the worst massacre of the war. Most killed were civil servants and government officials. These included teachers, lawyers, firemen, doctors, policemen and administrators. But the communists didn’t stop there. The dead included women, children, Catholic priests, nuns, Buddhist monks, and a French medical team. 

These unfortunate civilians were marked for death by Viet Cong (VC) spies who had been living among them until the takeover. In the first days of the takeover they were quickly rounded up, executed and buried in mass graves, many near the Perfume River. These mass graves were discovered as US troops were retaking the city. During that deadly month of occupation, the VC had murdered an entire generation of Hue’s civilian leadership.

US Army Cobra gunship, type flown by Capt. McDonnell. Source: Wikimedia Commons

Continuing on, I find many weapons here, all were manufactured in the US, Russia, or China. I ponder over this: all the weapons are of foreign origin. So what if North and South Vietnam were left to fight the war alone, using only their domestically made weapons? What would they have used to fight each other? Knives and bamboo spears?

For the average North Vietnamese Army and Viet Cong fighter, this war was mainly a fight for reunification, and to kick out foreign invaders. For the Americans, Russians and Chinese, the implications of the Vietnam War were much broader. This was also a proxy war, part of the larger Cold War dividing the world at the time. Most Vietnamese today still don't understand this.

Another group of photos show anti-war demonstrations within Vietnam in the 1960’s. They glorifly the demonstrations from those years, but they won’t allow any demonstrations against the government today.

The last room has exhibits from when the communists recaptured the city as the

ARVN and US Army ID's on display

war ended. A display caption reads, “SOME ID CARDS OF THE AMERICAN AND PUPPET SOLDIERS, TAKEN BY THELIBERATION TROOP IN MARCH 1975”. Lined up like playing cards, there are many genuine military ID's from ARVN troops, along with 11 Army ID cards from American soldiers. This is another mislabeled caption. Nearly all American troops were long gone out of Vietnam after the peace was signed in 1973, so these 11 soldiers couldn’t have been captured in Hue in 1975. This is just more propaganda, but the ID cards themselves are genuine. I wonder, were these men killed in action earlier in the war?

On a hunch, I decide to research the US soldiers on these ID cards. I knew that there was a story for each one of these young men. I decide to search beyond the propaganda, and try to find out what really happened to them.

Getting to a computer later, I begin tracking down their information searching through various public databases.. Of the 11 ID cards, the text of one name isn’t visible, leaving me 10 to research. Four of the ID cards don’t have any relevant information that I can find. Their names are not listed on Vietnam War Memorial, so these four men weren’t killed in Vietnam. They aren't on the list of the prisoners of war (POWs) released at the war’s end either. For these four men, perhaps their ID cards were lost or stolen.

For the ID of one Staff Sargeant, I’m pleased to learn through a networking search that he survived the war. A former Army Ranger in Vietnam, he’s now a civilian manager of a contracting company. Like the other four, I’m curious to know how his ID card ended up here. I wonder if he is even aware that his old Army ID is on display in a Vietnamese museum.

US soldier's ID cards. I searched to find out what happened to these men.

More searches find results for four other ID cards. I’m sad to learn that these men were killed in action (KIA). Mark Bush, Milton Swain, Max Johnson and Richard Staab. From the Vietnam War Memorial database, I learn that all four were with the 101st Airborne, an elite Army unit. All were killed in fighting in Thua Tien Province, of which Hue is a part. None of them died here during the Tet Offensive though. All four were killed later on different dates, between 1969 - 1970. These ID’s may have been removed from their bodies by the VC or NVA after they fell on the battlefield.

Then there is the last name, the only officer in the group. I type in his name for a web search, and hit return.

My mouth drops open. I’m shocked at what I find.

Captain John T. McDonnell. There is far more information about him, then there is on any of the others that I looked up before. That’s because he was not killed in action. He is still listed today as MIA, Missing In Action in Vietnam. He disappeared on March 6, 1969, and he hasn’t been seen or heard from since!

On that day Capt. McDonnell was flying a combat mission south of Hue in a Cobra helicopter gunship. The chopper was hit by ground fire and crashed. The injured pilot of the helicopter was found and evacuated. Unfortunately, due to the nature of his injuries, he couldn’t recall what had happened to McDonnell.
 
US forces searching for the chopper, found the wreckage. McDonnell’s helmet was found, with no traces of blood. His seatbelt was found unlocked, so it’s likely he fled on foot. The search team found abandoned enemy positions nearby, and since McDonnell’s body wasn't found, it’s likely he was taken prisoner. The presence of his ID in this museum practically confirms it.

Later information collected from investigators, indicated he was likely being held prisoner by the NVA. Incredibly, he may even have still been alive after the war's end in 1973, when all other

More IDs. Capt. John T. McDonnell, at the bottom, is Missing In Action.

American prisoners of war (POW’s) were supposedly sent home.

I’ve learned that there is something even worse than being killed in a war. There is the great misfortune of disappearing in combat, and never being found. Ever. Capt. McDonnell’s disappearance created a pain for his family that is never ending. For years they were unable to mourn for him, since they didn’t know if he was either dead or alive. Years later, the Army finally declared him officially dead, but how did his death happen, and when? What really happened to him may remain a mystery that will never be solved.

Unfortunately, John McDonnell’s family is not alone. After the US war ended in 1973, and all prisoners were exchanged, more than 2,500 Americans remained listed as Missing In Action in Vietnam, Laos and Cambodia. Since the North Vietnamese soon resumed the war, the US government never paid them the $4.5 billion in war reparations agreed to in the Paris Peace Accords. For years afterward, many believed the North Vietnamese were still holding live American prisoners of war, perhaps hostages for the war reparations. Some American POW’s may have remained in prison camps, held for political ransom.

For their part the communists denied this, claiming all live Americans had already been returned. In at least one case, their claims were disproved. Robert Garwood, a US Marine who had been missing since 1965, was finally released by the Vietnamese in 1979, six years after the US war ended. He was later convicted of aiding and abetting the enemy, but for years the North Vietnamese had never admitted that he was in their possession.

John McDonnell also may have been alive after the war, and he remains listed as Missing In Action today. But the presence of his ID card in this military museum leaves many unanswered questions. For this card to have ended up here, somebody in the NVA or VC must have taken this ID card from McDonnell while he was still alive, or removed it from his uniform after his death. The US military is aware of his ID card in this museum, but his fate remains unknown. After Capt. McDonnell’s chopper went down, he didn’t just disappear into thin air. Somebody here in Vietnam knew what happened to him. 

There are still mysteries to solve in Vietnam. 

RUINS OF THE BATTLE FOR HUE

A hole was blown into this Citadel wall during the 1968 Tet Offensive

It’s another day in the former imperial city of Hue, and I make another visit to the massive Citadel, where the kings lived. This time I’m in the southwest of the complex, walking along the inside wall of the old fortress. Several feet thick in places, it's made of stone blocks and brick. It's also heavily scarred in many places. Back during the war, communist troops took over the entire Citadel in the 1968 Tet Offensive. This part of the Citadel was among the last of the holdouts for the communist side, and they they put up a fierce battle against US forces here.

Shrapnel holes still scar the Citadel's walls

Many war damaged buildings are still in ruins

Walking along the wall, some marks peppered here and there are from individual bullet rounds. They are dwarfed by much larger holes and damage from heavier American military might. Since the stubborn North Vietnamese Army (NVA) and Viet Cong (VC) were so well entrenched behind the thick walls of the Citadel, American forces had to rain down everything short of B-52 strikes, in order to take the Citadel back. Some of the explosions have blown holes through the thick brick walls large enough for a man to crawl through. There’s still a lot of shrapnel and spent bullets lodged deep inside the old walls as well.

In the fighting for Hue and the Citadel, communist troops were well supplied, well armed, and well entrenched. In the first days of the fierce battle, the ARVN and small number of US Army troops that faced them were unable to win back the city on their own. So what was the solution for the American generals? Send in the Marines.

Brought in from their base just south of the city in Phu Bai, the US Marines had mainly been fighting in Vietnam’s countryside. To retake Hue, they would face their first urban battle in Vietnam. As they battled through the city, the Marines had to fight their way from house to house, and block to block. Progress was slow, and fighting was heavy. They first battled to retake the south side of the city, and after a rare amphibious crossing of the Perfume River, they moved to attack the heavily fortified Citadel where I am now.

Reconstruction is underway for this royal walkway

The queen mother's tile floor is now exposed to the elements

Although the French had attacked the Citadel in decades past, the fighting that took place here between the Marines, and the communist troops was the heaviest fighting the Citadel had ever seen. The scarred walls and ruins still here remain as silent witnesses to the destruction. When the battle for the Citadel was finally over and the city of Hue was declared secure, the total number of casualties was high. The ARVN had 380 dead, and 1,800 wounded. For the Marines, about 150 were killed, and more than 800 injured. This was an extremely high rate of casualties, and amounted to almost half of the Marines in Hue.

Facing massive firepower, the number of NVA and VC casualties was even higher, with an estimated 5,000 dead. Trapped in the citadel in the final days, many had fought to the end. In what had been one of Vietnam’s most beautiful cities, more than half of Hue had been destroyed.

Meandering through the other walled in enclosures, I enter Ta Tra royal hall, an old royal waiting room for the queen mother. On the floor is gorgeous, intricate royal tilework, but above it, there is open sky. Only the building’s frame remains standing, it’s a skeleton of a building now. An engraved sign states, “TA TRA BUILDING WAS SERIOUSLY DAMAGED BY WAR IN 1968 AND BY A TYPHOON IN 1985.”

An elephant roaming the Citadel? It's tied down. Or is it?

Between the wars, typhoons and aging, it’s a wonder that any of the royal complex survived at all. Some of the compounds in the Imperial City are nearly vacant. The long green grass of nature has replaced luxurious buildings, and only a few broken walls and old foundations remain. 

Leaving the battle scarred section, I stroll over to the Citadel's restored side.  Here one part of the royal complex has been transformed into an art university. As I walk past it appears that school is out, since I don’t see any students. The only resident I see inside now, is an elephant! He seemed to be staring right at me, waving his great ears back and forth as I walked past. With tall grass around his feet, I couldn’t tell if he was tethered to anything, or not. I wasn’t about to approach him to find out. 

He must have been secured somehow; I can’t imagine an elephant being allowed to roam loose inside the Citadel.

FORBIDDEN CITY FOR KINGS

Ngo Mon Gate, entrance to the 'Forbidden' City

When we think of Vietnam’s leaders, the first that come to mind are Ho Chi Minh and the communist party. But that's only recent history. Once upon a time, Vietnam was ruled by emperors. These kings were later conquered by the French, but even under colonialism the monarchy continued to be an integral part of Vietnamese society. There were many kings, queens and dynasties who ruled Vietnam; they often came to power after kicking out the occupying Chinese. Gia Long, the first emperor of the final dynasty, moved Vietnam’s capital to Hue in 1802. I’ve arrived in this imperial city, and I’m on my way into the emperor’s old fortress, the Hue Citadel.

A taxi takes me across the Perfume River, and on the far side I’m dropped at the Citadel gate. This is the first of a series of old fortified walls that I have to pass through, until I reach the more interesting areas within. The original outer wall of the old city stretched for six miles in length.

Crossing an open field I reach a moat, and gaze up at Ngo Mon Gate, the entrance to the Imperial City. It’s an impressive stone gate, three stories tall. With it’s round tiled rooftops, dragon like figures, and triple entrances, the elaborate gate resembles the entrance way to the Forbidden City in Beijing. The Vietnamese hated Chinese domination and fought to expel them, but that didn’t stop them from building their palaces and gates with Chinese architecture.

Dragon decor of Ngo Mon Gate

I climb the steps to the second floor viewing area, situated right above the gate’s center. It’s an excellent view, as it should be. This is where the emperor stood for official royal functions, presiding over ceremonies and parades. This also happens to be where Vietnam’s monarchy officially ended. The last emperor Bao Dai, officially abdicated to Ho Chi Minh’s government here in 1945, ending centuries of Vietnamese royal tradition. By that time Bao Dai was just a figurehead king anyway, and his abdication didn’t sit well with the French, who were absent due to Japan’s invasion during World War II. But the French returned to Hue soon after, as they sought to retake their colony.

Looking around at the royal interior, I spot a sign that reads, “NGO MON MONUMENT RESTORED WITH JAPANESE AID VIA UNESCO. The impressive gate appears quite old, but the fact is, not much of what I see is original. That’s because this royal gate was heavily damaged in fighting between the North Vietnamese Army and American forces, during the Tet Offensive of 1968.

Hue is only about 40 miles from the former De-Militarized Zone, which used to divide North and South Vietnam. As Vietnam’s old capital, it became a prime target for a surprise offensive. When fighting started most of Hue was guarded by ARVN troops, and the invading North Vietnamese Army (NVA) and Viet Cong (VC) quickly overwhelmed them. Within hours they took most of the city, establishing a base here within the citadels heavy walls.

A great deal of blood was spilled to fly different flags from the tallest flag pole in Vietnam

Beyond a parade ground across from Ngo Mon Gate, is a three tiered fortress tower made of dark stone. A massive 37 meter tall flagpole rises from the center, the tallest flagpole in Vietnam. Since Hue is the former capital, the flagpole is highly symbolic. When the communists took the citadel, they tore down the yellow and red flag of the Republic of Vietnam, and replaced it with the Viet Cong colors. The fighting in Hue was so heavy, and resistance so fierce, that US troops were not able to remove that flag until 3 1/2 weeks later. 

This flagpole is so tall and heavy, that it was once knocked over by a typhoon. Strong guy wires hold it in place now to keep it from falling over again. The dark stone of the fortress contrasts with the bright red color of the huge flag flying there now, the current flag of the Socialist Republic of Vietnam. I can’t walk up the tower, since this part of the citadel is totally blocked off and locked up. Maybe they’re afraid someone will try and tear the flag down again.

Elephant in the old Citadel. Can I have a ride too?

Beyond the gate as I enter the Imperial Enclosure, I read an entrance sign posting rules for visitors. One part reads, “NOT TO BRING IN THE DYNAMITE, POISON AND WEAPON”. I see their signage crew needs help with their English grammar.

Unlike the more crowded streets of Hue, in here is a vast courtyard, and I’m immediately met with an unexpected sight. Walking down a wide sidewalk heading straight towards me, is an elephant! Well, there’s something you don’t see everyday. The handler is sitting behind the elephant’s ears astride the great beast’s neck. He must fancy himself as some kind of Asian cowboy, since he wears a cowboy hat. Behind him, two westerners enjoy the ride on a saddle-like chair.

The points of the great elephant’s tusks have been sawed off, probably for safety. Well, the emperor used to ride elephants here in the Imperial City, so why not visitors? I step aside while the elephant lumbers slowly past me, and I continue on ahead to explore the old citadel.

Where the palaces once stood, there are now green fields

I reach the symbolic center of the Citadel, the Forbidden Purple City. Similar to  the original Forbidden City in Beijing, it's far smaller in size. Here is where the palace residences were for the king, queen and his concubines. It’s neither forbidden, nor purple any longer, since the royal residences are completely gone. In their place there are only two long depressions in the trimmed grass. They ought to change it’s name to the ‘Green City’.

The palaces were totally destroyed long ago, and even the wrecked bricks have been removed. Unlike Ngo Mon Gate, these royal buildings weren’t destroyed by American firepower in 1968. During the colonial years, the royal residences and other Imperial City buildings were destroyed by the French. This happened first as the French sought to force Vietnam’s emperor under their thumb, then again later to put down independence uprisings. During the days of the Tet Offensive, the media blamed the American military for destroying the heritage of Hue as they retook the Citadel from the NVA and the VC. The fact was, many of the Citadel’s old historical buildings had already been destroyed by the French, decades before.

In the post-war era, what was left of the royal buildings continued to decay,

Restoration work on war damaged buildings continues throughout the Citadel

since the communists had no interest in preserving royal history. But when tourists returned to Hue, they quickly learned that foreign visitors with money would pay to see the royal Citadel, so restorations commenced. 

On a covered walkway adjacent to the residence site, I see restorations in progress. Craftsmen labor up on bamboo scaffolding. Women in blue uniforms and conical hats wheel around carts full of bricks. Hue was named a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1993, and the long process of rebuilding continues. But I wonder, after being pummeled by artillery from two western armies, over two different centuries, was there really that much left here to preserve? In any case, the glory of Vietnam’s former royals are being restored, though it will never be completely rebuilt in our lifetime.

Atop the back wall of the enclosure, I watched restoration work on a bombed out royal building. The ceiling was gone, along with one entire wall. I watched one laborer as he carried construction materials up to the site. He couldn’t have

Once destroyed by war, the Mieu Temple has been restored

known I was watching, because after he set down his load, he stepped right up to the old royal building, and urinated on the wall. I guess he didn’t take any pride in his work.

I find some finished restoration work at the Mieu Temple, where they honor the memory of all the Nguyen Dynasty’s kings. Looking at the the layered yellow tile work, and mythical creatures on the rooftop, I'm again reminded of China. It’s painted red, the good luck color, and yellow, the color of royalty.

I remove my shoes upon entering, since for Vietnamese Buddhists, this is revered ground. Inside are pictures, shrines and incense for each of the emperors. I wonder why there are no monks here. 

I exit this impressive looking restored temple, to find that the building next to it remains a ruin. Only the front and rear facades are  still standing. Metal supports hold up what’s left, so that they won’t collapse any further. Some impressive restoration work has been completed, but much remains to be done.

This ruin that was wrecked in the war awaits restoration

***CONTINUED IN NEXT POST: More on the Battle in the Hue Citadel*** 

DESTROYED TOWN OF BEN TRE IS REBUILT

Buzzing downtown of Ben Tre. Few cars, many motorbikes.

I’m out for a stroll, wandering through the center of an old river town. Now that I’m out of Saigon, I’m feeling the slower pace of life in the Mekong Delta.

Dried fish and fresh produce await customers in shop doorways. Motorbikes  putter past me on the downtown street. On the next street corner, an older Vietnamese woman in pajamas sells freshly baked loaves French bread. The colonials may be gone, but the Vietnamese still enjoy French pastries.

As compared to other old towns in the Mekong Delta, this provincial hub is more modern. The buildings that surround me have an appearance of urban renewal. For an old provincial capital, it bears a look not very common to Vietnam. I notice that for an old colonial town, there are far fewer French colonial buildings around. That’s because most of them have been destroyed years before.

Various groups of townsfolk greet me as I pass. “Hello! How are you? Where you from?” they ask energetically. I get the idea that I’m something of a rarity here. Few tourists come to this part of the Mekong Delta, and even fewer of them are American. Given the history of this town, I’m not surprised.

Old town cinema. Bullet holes can still be seen on the sign.

I’m in the delta town of Ben Tre, which was well known as a rebel stronghold, even long before the American military arrived in the 1960’s. The new look that it has today, is due to the enormity of war’s destruction.

In 1968 when the Tet Offensive hit South Vietnam, the Viet Cong managed to briefly capture this town. Soon after American forces counter-attacked to take Ben Tre back from the VC. Taking the town by house to house fighting was brutal and difficult, so the American military opted for artillery and aerial attacks. They won the battle and regained the town, but not before much of Ben Tre was destroyed by American firepower.

When the fighting stopped, more than half the town was in ruins. Over 400 VC were killed in the battle, but the civilian death toll was even higher. In the aftermath, many bodies were dumped into the Ben Tre River.

The manager of my hotel is a Ben Tre native, and his father was involved in the fighting. “My father VC (Viet Cong),” he told me. His father had survived the battle, and his son relayed his simpler version of those fateful days. “The VC attack. America bomb. Many, many people die.”

The fighting and destruction in Ben Tre produced the most infamous quote of the entire Vietnam War. After the battle was over, a US Army Major was quoted by Associated Press reporter Peter Arnett as saying, “We had to destroy Ben Tre in order to save it.”

Market destroyed in '68 fighting Photo: P Sharkey

There is little evidence left today of the massive destruction of those days. As I wander around the downtown, most of the buildings are new, but a number of old buildings that survived the fighting still bear scars from the assault. Looking carefully at the buildings that survived the shelling, I can still make out physical evidence of the heavy fighting that took place here decades before. As I walk around town I see one residence has bullet holes around the doorway. Another building has shrapnel marks scattered high across the walls. A tall sign that reads, “Cine Theatre” has eight bullet holes peppered up the façade. Those scars are certainly ugly, but with so much new architecture surrounding these old buildings, the damage isn’t very noticeable. Any major damage done to this neighborhood has already been repaired.

Passing an old government building, I come to the only sign of old fortifications in Ben Tre. Two abandoned, ground level bunkers sit at the corners of a government compound. Still showing pockmarks from gunfire, one bunker had a section of concrete knocked out, probably from a rocket propelled grenade.

Rebuilt market in Ben Tre today

Fortunately these old scars of war are the exception, since most of the buildings in town are from the 1970’s era or later. Much as Berlin rebuilt from the rubble of World War II to become the modern city it is today, Ben Tre has also risen from the ashes.

Arriving at the downtown’s center by the river, I reach Cho Ben Tre, the Ben Tre Market. This was also hit by fighting during the Tet takeover. “The market (was) gone,” the hotel manager told me of that time. “Fire… the buildings, fire.”

I look at the market now, and it appears brand new. It was rebuilt years ago of course, and once again it’s the center of commerce in Ben Tre. A lot of folks are eating at food stalls outside, so I stop in for something to drink. It’s a hot day,  the perfect time for a cold green tea.

Sitting down at an empty table, I’m not unnoticed. At the next table is a group of local ladies in their 30’s and 40’s. They don’t speak English, but from their giggling and curious looks, I can tell that they don’t see many white westerners here in the market. As I'm getting further south away from Saigon, I'm getting deeper into the delta where few foreigners venture. 

The market buzzes with commerce

The ladies motion for me to join them at their table, which I do, though I can tell communication will be difficult. A teenage waitress brings my order of green tea. One of the ladies at the table points to the waitress, then to herself. “She, daughter,” she says. It doesn’t take long before the woman tries to convince me to marry her daughter. Although flattered, I politely decline. One thing that hasn’t changed here in the delta, is that marriage to an American is a quick ticket out of poverty.

Another woman at the table seems to be in her forties. Through the use of hand motions, she informs me she is actually 60. Compared to white westerners, Asians often appear much younger than their age. Asian women seem to age gracefully.

I try speaking to them with a few basic words of English. There is little  comprehension, but lots of laughter. Another lady at the table joins in, and offers me another marriage proposal. “We marry,” she says, pointing to her ring finger. I decline again. More laughter.

I’m surprised at the jovial nature and friendliness of these local women. Most of them were old enough to survive the fighting that occurred here, and the US military once heavily bombed this town. As an American, the last thing I was expecting was marriage proposals, even if only in jest.

I pay my bill, and say farewell as I get up to leave. I receive a chorus of bye-byes from the friendly women, as a two year old approaches the table. Her mother takes her daughter by the hand, trying to get her to say bye-bye to me. The child cringes back in fear from the tall white foreigner. All the ladies laugh. The child is the only one at the whole table that is wary of me.

Memorial to the 1960 Ben Tre uprising

I make my way up Dong Khoi street, and head back to the hotel where I’m staying. Like the Dong Khoi Street in Saigon, this refers to the ‘uprising’ of 1960 here in Ben Tre against the dictator Diem, not a reference to the 1968 battle here with the Americans.

That earlier Viet Cong uprising is memorialized in town in Monument Park, where there are murals and towering Soviet style statues. There is a reference there to ‘fighting Americans’, but most US soldiers here in 1960 were only advisors. Full American combat units didn’t arrive in Vietnam until five years later.

Like the museums in Ho Chi Minh City, there are few people in the memorial park, it doesn’t appear popular at all. My hotel manager explained: “The people forget. The war in the past. Far.” He says his former Viet Cong father feels the same as everyone else. I’m sure his father hasn’t forgotten the war, but given the warm welcomes and friendliness I’ve experienced here, I’m pleased to find that I'm not seeing any bitterness. 

WHAT HAPPENED TO THE US EMBASSY IN SAIGON?

US Embassy after Tet Offensive attack in 1968. (Public Domain)

The foreigner presence here in Saigon has changed completely over the years. When this was the national capital of a country at war, the expat community was large and diverse. There were ambassadors, intelligence spooks, foreign soldiers, journalists and aid workers. But no longer.

Now there’s no war, and this is no longer a national capital. But since the country returned to capitalism in the 1980’s, the city has become the business capital of Vietnam. Nowadays Ho Chi Minh City is all about earning money, and expats making things happen here are all businessmen. More numerous, but less influential, are foreign English teachers. All the ambassadors have gone to Hanoi, though some lower diplomats remain.

With this in mind, I'm heading for the most famous former embassy in American history. I approach the grounds of the former US embassy in Saigon.

Here was the very symbol of American influence in South Vietnam. After more than two decades of American support, billions of dollars in aid, and the loss of countless lives, this is where the US government ended its commitment to South Vietnam. In April of 1975 this virtual fortress was a place of total panic and chaos. TV cameras captured the scene of American helicopters taking off from the embassy grounds as they evacuated embassy staff, Marine guards, and many Vietnamese refugees. They then flew for the coast, landing on the 7th Fleet’s aircraft carriers in the South China Sea. South Vietnam was abandoned to the advancing communists, who captured the city that same morning.

What was left of the embassy was looted. After the war the Vietnamese government took over the old embassy, and Petro-Vietnam, a state owned oil company, moved into the offices.

In 1990's the building was used by Vietnamese oil company. By Mztourist License: CC BY-SA 3.0 No changes)

When diplomatic relations were re-established in 1995, the American government managed to get their old embassy property back in the process. Visitors to the rooftop were surprised to find old tattered sandbags leftover from the final evacuation two decades before.

Petro-Vietnam moved out, and the old six story chancery building with the rooftop helipad was torn down. Some of the land next door is now commercial, and today a neighboring high rise towers above the current consulate.

Same block today. Much of old embassy is new park for consulate at far right. (By Mztourist License: CC BY-SA 3.0 No changes)

In keeping with its new consulate status, there are fewer staff here. Yet, there’s no discounting the importance of the place. Right down the street stands the former Presidential Palace, where the war ended. Next door is the French consulate. Across the street, the British Consulate. These old foreign powers may not call the shots in Southeast Asia anymore, but western consulates still occupy some of the most exclusive real estate in town.

Back during the 1975 evacuation, history remembers the nightmare of desperation, as thousands of South Vietnamese mobbed the gates here, hoping to escape the advancing communists. As I approach the embassy this morning, another Vietnamese crowd hoping to leave is present at the entrance. There are hundreds of hopeful emigrants gathered outside the consulate, all desiring a visa to travel to America.

The departure of Vietnamese to America is more orderly these days, and visa applications are the consulate's number one activity. Some want to go to America to make money, others to reunite with family that fled the country years before. Like so many in the world who want to become American citizens, they are looking for freedom and opportunity.

Some are also university students. Gone are the days when Vietnamese students learned Russian, and traveled to the Soviet Union to study at universities there. The favored study destinations now are Australia and the USA. More than 9,000 Vietnamese students are currently enrolled in American colleges and universities, and that number is growing.

Looking to a corner of the consulate’s walls, I see a red stone memorial. At the base,  stubs of incense are left in remembrance. This memorial wasn't made for Americans, nor to remember the 1975 evacuation. This memorial is for the Viet Cong sapper team of the 1968 Tet offensive, when this embassy became a battleground. At that time, President Johnson was telling Americans that the Vietnam War was going well. The VC attack at this embassy, along with the Tet offensive, proved him wrong. In the early morning hours of January 31, a group of 20 Viet Cong guerillas blew a three foot hole in the exterior wall, and gained entrance to the compound. Once inside, they battled it out with US Military Policemen and Marines. When the fierce firefight ended hours later, five American soldiers were dead. 19 of the VC were killed, with one wounded and captured.

Like the Tet Offensive, the embassy attack wasn’t successful, and ended with heavy losses for the communists. Although they had entered the embassy compound, the VC weren’t able to enter the chancery building, but they had proved a point. They couldn’t destroy the embassy, but they had turned the site into a battlefield, in the very heart of Saigon. Even in defeat, they had gained a major propaganda victory. The feeling in America changed; it now appeared that the war would drag on indefinitely. After the Tet Offensive, many in America came to believe that that the Vietnam War could not be won, and public opinion turned against the war.

Away from public view in a quiet section of the consulate, there is a garden where the old chancery stood. Here lies another small memorial marker, listing the names of the US servicemen who died here during the attack. As far as I know, this is the only memorial marker in existence within Vietnam, that is dedicated to Americans who died during the long war here.

This may be the only memorial to US war dead within Vietnam's borders. (Public Domain)

Looking at the thick walls and video cameras today, the embassy looks even more secure these days than it did during the war. Like all American embassies worldwide, it has been well fortified to prevent and survive terrorist attacks.

Outside the consulate walls, I see an unexpected sign of security: Vietnamese police wearing army style uniforms. They guard and watch over the consulate, carrying Kalashnikov assault rifles, much like the same weapons the Viet Cong guerrillas used to attack this very site years ago. It is a surreal sight, giving the appearance of communists providing protection to the capitalists. How things have changed. I wonder, is their real job protecting the embassy? Or is their job watching the Americans? Or is their job scaring away potential defectors?

I enter the walk in entrance, and I’m now in the US consulate in Ho Chi Minh City. I’m surprised to see that the guards at check in are also Vietnamese. “You have mobile phone? Camera? Put them here,” the guard says. I grudgingly hand them over. Like all American embassies, security is tight. No cameras or cell phones allowed inside.

Walking past lines of people waiting for visa interviews, I head for American Citizen Services. Upon entry, I find a modern government office. It’s a safe, but sterile atmosphere. A sign of the times in the post-9/11 world, is that US staff in this office are behind bullet proof glass. I’m only here for a simple matter, to install more pages into my packed passport. My turn comes, and I slip the passport under the thick glass to the clerk. Collecting my passport later, one image stands out as I depart: the State Department Seal that hangs on the wall. This is the same large circular logo that hangs in front of the podium at the Secretary of State's press conferences. The difference is the location. The seal reads, “Department of State Ho Chi Minh City”. An official logo of the US government, now bears the name of a man who was once one of America’s worst enemies.

Western cynics would say, “That’s diplomacy.”

But since we aren’t enemies anymore, Vietnamese Buddhists would say, “Nothing is permanent.”

THE WAR KILLED MY LIFE

Duc served with Americans on a PBR like this one. Photo: Wikimedia Commons

I’ve heard refugees and veterans speak of war’s awful consequences before, but I’d never heard it put into these five simple words.

“The war killed my life.”

I heard these words from Duc (pronounced 'Duke'), a veteran who had fought for the losing side of the war in South Vietnam. Despite him losing so much from the conflict and its aftermath, Duc had managed to survive. Duc was my tour guide in Cu Chi, and compared to the usually reserved Vietnamese, he’s a very vocal and excitable fellow.

“I’m not very handsome like before,” Duc joked, and the tour group I’m in lets out a collective chuckle. At 59 years old, he’s slight in stature, with a touch of an Asian moustache. A tour guide for more than 10 years, he knows how to keep foreigners interested. Wearing a ball cap and 80’s style mirrored sunglasses, he has the air of a military veteran. Through Duc’s speeches to the tour group, and later conversation I shared with him, he had a remarkable story to tell. In between his puffs on cigarettes, his story unfolded.

Duc had begun life with so much. He was born to a Vietnamese mother from an upper class Saigon family. She was a professor at a local university. His father was a diplomat from the Philippines. From such a family, Duc was able to attend excellent schools. As he grew up in the southern capital, his family’s status kept him relatively insulated from the war.

Duc's unit patrolled dangerous waterways, such as here in the Mekong Delta

“For 125 years Vietnam people fight. They never stop,” Duc told us. It was a long road of conflict. There were so many years of war fighting the French, the Japanese, the Americans, and each other. His family’s life had been struck by the tragedy of war before. His grandmother was killed in 1944, when a Japanese bomb struck their house during their World War II occupation.

During the 1960’s, Duc was a university student in Saigon, studying to be a doctor. At that time the city was reasonably peaceful, and for him, the war was something far away. Then the Tet Offensive happened in 1968. With so much fighting around the city, Duc was shocked to see bodies lying in the streets. He was also shocked to learn that one of his female classmates was a Viet Cong, killed in the fighting. With his country in crisis, Duc decided to join the fight to defend it.

Unlike so many who ended up in the army, Duke was put in a naval unit. His service included assignment at bases in America. He served at bases in Philadelphia and San Diego, teaching new  coast guard and naval recruits how to drive the PBR boats (patrol boats) used in the Vietnam's waterways. Although many Vietnamese dream of living in America, Duc missed his country, his family, and Vietnamese food. “I don’t like American food. It’s horrible,” Duc said bluntly. He looked forward to going home.

In 1969, he was sent back to Vietnam. He had reached the rank of warrant officer, and was attached to an American Naval unit patrolling the rivers of South Vietnam. His unit even had a young naval lieutenant by the name of John Kerry. This was the same John Kerry who would later become a senator, and presidential candidate.(Note: since I 1st posted this story, Kerry has become Secretary of State.)

Duc fought in John Kerry's unit (State photo)

One of his unit’s duties were missions to retrieve servicemen who were missing in action.(MIA’s) Some of Duc’s most dangerous missions were to recover live American pilots, or bodies of American servicemen killed in action in enemy areas. Duc was shot during one of these missions, recovered, and returned to duty. Luckily for him, his small stature made him a smaller target for communist gunners.

When the US signed the peace agreement and left in 1973, the American officers in his unit offered to take Duc with them. He refused. “Vietnam is my country,” he said, “I love my country.” He didn’t want to abandon it. Additionally, his mother had gotten divorced, and he didn’t want to leave her either. Patriotism and duty to family meant more to him than escape. And besides, he’d been to America already, and he still hated the food.

Two years later, the North Vietnamese Army advanced on Saigon. The end was imminent. Duc’s mother begged him to leave the country. He wouldn’t do it. With the end near, Duc took his service revolver, and went outside to commit suicide. With tears in his eyes, he raised the pistol to his head… and he couldn’t do it. He just couldn’t pull the trigger. Somehow, Duc would survive.

After the communists took over, thousands of those like Duc who had fought alongside the Americans were captured and imprisoned. Duc was sent away to a ‘re-education’ camp. For three years, Duc had to sit through daily sessions of political cadres spouting communist propaganda. Conditions were difficult. Duc got malaria in prison, and his captors refused to give him any medicine. Some other prisoners died from the malaria. Duc shivered and suffered from fever. Eventually he recovered. When he was finally released, he returned to Saigon, only to find that his mother had died during his imprisonment. He had never even been informed. Duc found that his brothers and sisters had also fled the country. He couldn’t move back into his family’s house either. It was now occupied by another family with connections to the new government.

Duc boarded cargo boats much like this one, as they searched for smuggled Viet Cong weapons

Duc would learn that despite his communist ‘re-education’, it was very difficult for him to find work. The government was refusing all professional jobs to anyone from the former South Vietnamese military.

Eventually, Duc found himself a good Vietnamese woman, and married. “My wife so ugly,” he joked in his crass style, “but I love her so much. She very good cook.” He settled into a family life, and had two sons. As the Vietnamese economy liberalized, his English speaking skills helped him get a job as a tour guide, where he still works today. He also managed to locate his siblings. His brother and sister returned this year from Australia for a family reunion during the Tet holidays.

Duc has regained a somewhat normal life, but he decided that he won’t work for much longer. His oldest son will soon finish medical school, and when he does he’ll be able to support Duc. He’ll be 60 years old then, and will retire from being a tour guide. Having worked six to seven days a week for years, he’s looking forward to the rest.

I'd like to show you a photo of Duc, but having him identified publicly, may get him trouble again with Vietnam's communist government. I'd better keep the photos I have of him private. Duc has suffered enough.