HIKING THE HO CHI MINH TRAIL

Laotian homes on stilts in the border town of Densavan

As I approach the Laotian border village of Densavan on foot, I'm getting my first views of this mysterious country. Ahead are the rolling mountains of Southeast Laos, and I quickly notice the difference between here and Lao Bao, the border town on the Vietnamese side. Vietnam is far more developed and affluent, since the Vietnamese economy has been booming for years. But crossing a bridge into Densavan, I find the opposite. Local children play and splash about, in muddy water below the bridge. Some village houses here are basically shacks, with rooftops of corrugated metal. Other homes are even less durable, with thatched rooftops.

Laos is one of the world’s poorest countries. Today the total population is only 6 million. Although  double what it was back during the Vietnam War, it still has the lowest population density in all of Southeast Asia. The low numbers mean Laos continues to have mountain ranges and jungles that remain largely uninhabited, giving it some of Asia’s most beautiful scenery. Lack of development means that Laos retains a simple Asian

Laotian children play in a muddy river

charm that its neighbors have long since lost. It remains quiet, conservative, and laid back.

The highway running through town is Densavan’s main street, and the only paved road. A long pile of brown dirt lines one side of the roadway, where a dozen Laotian Army soldiers in camouflage fatigues are digging a ditch. They lack heavy equipment, using only shovels and hand tools. Apparently in Laos they don’t mind using their military for public works.

I reach the business strip of Densavan, which compared to the poor outskirts, is relatively developed. The village’s center has a newer feel to it, since every building I see was built after the Vietnam War ended. A sign posted on a nearby business reads, “Hero Trading Import-Export Ltd”. As befits a border town, the local economy is driven by trading.

I find a small café, have a seat, and down a bottle of green tea. After locking up my baggage, I entrust the café proprietor to keep an eye on it for me. Then I head out of the village on foot. Trekking out of Densavan, the dirt road I’m on becomes a narrow path, and continues out into the jungle. I’m mindful that elephants and tigers still roam southern Laos, but they mainly inhabit remote areas, few live close to villages. Still, I won’t wander too far from town. I don’t want to become tiger bait. 

Reaching the tree line, I come across a group of army tents, and bright blue tarps built into makeshift shelters. This isn’t exactly a campground, I’ve found a migrant camp for seasonal laborers. A few of their wheelbarrows were left behind, along with a few of their wives and children. I get curious looks as I walk through, and I continue past them into the jungle. 

Walking down a narrow path, I find an old bomb crater. Grass and weeds grow in it, along with a tree. When this crater was first created, it was far deeper than it is now, but erosion has filled in the depression to some degree. But a deep, perfectly round hole remains. It’s definitely a bomb crater from the war years.

Continuing down the path I find another bomb crater, followed by many more. There must have been a heavy bombing attack that hit this area back during the war. I take care not to leave the path, in case there are any old unexploded bombs still around. Strangely, one of the bomb craters I come across is being put to use. It appears that the camp migrants have turned it into a garbage dump!

The path eventually dead ends into the brown waters of the Se Pon River, where a couple canoes are pulled up on the riverbank. This river flows westward towards the mountains. Just down river is the land I’ve just left: Vietnam. Now I know why the bomb craters are here. The roads and trails that I’ve walked on today, were once part of The Ho Chi Minh Trail.

A tree grows in the center of a bomb crater from the war years

An ever changing network of roads, paths, and even rivers, the Ho Chi Minh Trail was the lifeline and supply route for the North Vietnamese Army and Viet Cong in South Vietnam. Back then southeastern Laos was even less populated now, and the border was mostly unguarded. This allowed the communists to bring troops and supplies from North Vietnam across the border into Laos, and then south through these jungles. They were then able to infiltrate South Vietnam at many different crossing points, bypassing US bases. This was far less dangerous for the NVA, than if they tried to slip directly across the heavily fortified Demilitarized Zone. Still, it wasn’t easy. Besides enduring constant bombings, much of the Ho Chi Minh Trail was on steep dirt jungle paths through mountainous terrain, where trucks couldn’t be used. The Vietnamese soldiers had a simple solution to this logistical problem: bicycles.

Back in Vietnam, I recall seing a xe dap tho, or pack bike, in a museum. This was a standard bicycle, packed up with ammunition, or weapons, or rice. It had a bamboo pole lashed to the handlebars, making it easier for a foot soldier to push and steer with all the extra weight. Then loaded with 300 pounds of supplies, they sent it down the Ho Chi Minh Trail. These bikes were pushed along narrow mountain trails covered by jungle canopy, remaining totally unseen from the air. It was slower than trucks, and took a lot more sweat, but it kept the pipeline open. No matter how much the US military bombed the Ho Chi Minh trail, they couldn’t hit all the convoys and routes, and war material continued heading south.

During the war years it took as long as two months for an NVA soldier to ride and walk from Hanoi, all the way down the Ho Chi Minh Trail, through Laos and Cambodia, before he finally crossed back into Vietnam near the Saigon region. When I hopped on a jet from Hanoi to Saigon, the same trip only took me two hours!

Laotian soldiers dig a ditch in Densavan

The presence of all those NVA soldiers on Laotian soil back then was never supposed to happen. In 1963, an agreement signed in Geneva by Vietnam and the USA attempted to guarantee Laotian neutrality, prohibiting foreign troops on Laos. The North Vietnamese quickly disregarded this agreement, sending the NVA into Laos to build the Ho Chi Minh Trail. They also sent troops to fight alongside the Pathet Lao, a smaller communist force aiming to overthrow the Laotian government.

The US military was not so brazenly disregarding the Geneva Agreement, so the American ground troops fighting in Laos were never large in number. In these parts they were usually special forces soldiers, small groups of tough commando types that did secret raids to attack or disrupt the Ho Chi Minh Trail. There were Green Beret teams, who fought alongside their Montagnards allies. There were also LRRP units, like my buddy Kenny, the former Marine. Although Kenny’s missions were secret at the time, he did most of his fighting in this remote region of southeast Laos. They called in air strikes on NVA convoys and spied on the Ho Chi Minh Trail. When detected, they fought their way out.

Since Kenny had returned to live in Southeast Asia years ago, I once asked him if he had ever returned to Laos. He hadn’t, and wouldn’t give me a straight answer as to why. I suppose he still has too many bad memories from the war in Laos, for him to ever come back.

Despite constant military operations here in Laos by both Vietnamese and Americans, due to the Geneva agreement, neither side admitted their involvement of ground troops publicly. Since the US government was already facing anti-war protests for their involvement in Vietnam, they sought to downplay, and even hide, their role in Laos. So fighting in Laos became known as a ‘secret war’.

The Se Pon River, once used to infiltrate weapons and troops into South Vietnam

Besides using jungle trails, the North Vietnamese also used rivers for smuggling weapons, including the Se Pon River before me. Just downriver from where I’m standing, the Se Pon becomes the border with Vietnam. Back then they took canoes like those on the river bank, filled them full of weapons, and floated them across the river to their waiting comrades under cover of night.

Hoping to keep NVA troops and supplies from entering Vietnam, the main use of US military might in Laos would be for the air war. 'Victory through air power', meant massive aerial bombing on the Ho Chi Minh Trail. That was how all these deep bomb craters ended up here, scattered all around me. Since the USA had the world’s best jets and bombers, it sounded like a great idea. But this strategy only delayed the communists, and did not bring about victory.

After the war, the US military made public their data kept on how much explosive tonnage they had dropped on Laos from aircraft. This little country had been bombed by American aircraft flown from South Vietnam, from Thailand, and from Navy aircraft flown in from the South China Sea. Laos was even hit by B-52 bombers that had flown here all the way from Guam. With the war lasting longer than anyone anticipated, the amount of bombs dropped onto Laos was devastating. The tonnage of bombs the US dropped on Laos, was greater than the total tonnage dropped on all of Europe during World War II!

The total amount of bombs dropped from 1965 – 1973 was astounding: 1.36 million metric tons of explosives dropped on Laos. That made for a half metric ton of explosives, for every single person living in Laos at the time. Laos holds the unfortunate record, of being the most heavily bombed country in world history.

Since I have much more to see of Laos, I turn from the craters and the river and head back towards town. Crossing back through the encampment, a group of village children stare at me as I walk by. “Sabadee!” (Hello!) they call out to me.

“Sabadee!” I say back to them, and they smile. Once I’m back on the dirt road, they follow behind me, but from a distance. When I turn towards them, they all run away laughing. I continue walking, and soon they are following behind me again. They must be wondering why this giant white foreigner came walking through their remote little village. I give them a final wave, and head back to Densavan.

WHERE THE BOMBS FELL - HAIPHONG

A boat dweller ferries supplies in Haiphong

Two undersized crabs shuffle towards me, in that strange, sideways walk that only crabs do. I've found these freshwater shellfish on the shore of a Vietnamese river. The dark current flows fast today; it’s banks nearly overflow from the rain. The crabs turn and head for muddy water, while I turn down Tam Bac street, a road named after this river. Downstream a bridge view reveals the Tam Bac is merely a tributary; it empties into the much deeper Cam River. This whole section of northern Vietnam is full of meandering rivers, all part of the immense Red River Delta.

Finding a pier where the rivers meet, I look across the waters to see a fleet of commercial boats and ships. Dozens are docked or at anchor, while another six freighters cross in front of me in the channel. And that’s just what’s in my immediate view. I hear a ship’s horn sound off in the distance, and down river I can make out massive yellow cranes on the docks, ready to unload cargo ships

Vessels docked in Haiphong Harbor

arriving from the South China Sea.

I’ve come down the highway from Hanoi this morning into the Red River Delta, to check out one of Vietnam’s largest, longest and busiest ports. This is Haiphong Harbor. As the closest major port to Hanoi, Haiphong gained the attention of Americans in 1972.  In those days of war, President Nixon ordered this harbor mined, and resumed the bombing of Haiphong. Nixon hoped to stop the USSR from bringing weapons into Vietnam by ship, and mining the port sparked major demonstrations from anti-war protestors who saw this as an escalation.

When the Paris Peace Accords were signed the next year, part of the agreement meant that the sea mines that had been dropped into this harbor would have to be removed. In an odd twist of the agreement, US Navy minesweepers cleared this very harbor, even though the war continued between North and South Vietnam. 

Old French colonial buildings, in need of a fresh coat of paint

As I walk around Haiphong, I feel alone and unique. I'm finding one of Vietnam’s largest cities is almost empty of westerners. As a commercial shipping port there are foreign sailors, but most are Asian. Western tourists don’t bother with this commercial port. If they want to go to the coast, they head for scenic Halong Bay, or for Nha Trang’s beaches.

This lack of westerners does give Haiphong a degree of charm that Saigon lacks. With fewer tourists, the city has a more Vietnamese vibe. Exceptions to this, are the influences left behind by the French. Around the downtown’s commercial district, there are plenty of cafés, and many old French colonial shophouses still survive. Most are well beyond their prime though, and could use a fresh coat of paint.

Closer to the port, yellow government offices with familiar French colonial architecture are in better condition. As I walk by and look more closely, these appear far too new for the colonial era. These are French in style, but they weren’t built by the French, since the old original structures were destroyed by American bombing. 

 “They admire French architecture,” explains my Vietnamese friend Bich later. When the communist government constructed new buildings after the war, they built their replacements in the same French style. Given that the Vietnamese hated the French colonials, that seems very odd to me.

Maxim's Cafe in downtown Haiphong

Originally from Haiphong, I met Bich through a friend in Saigon. She works in tourism, and I arranged to meet her at Maxim’s Café in downtown Haiphong. She’s happy to tell me all about her city over dinner.

“Haiphong people (are) known as strong of character, strong of mind, and strong of body,” she says self-assuredly. Bich is petite, but those first two characteristics describe her perfectly.

Haiphong is known as, ‘The City of Red Flowers', and she says that it’s beautiful here in late spring when flowers bloom. Too bad I’m here on a gloomy rainy day, so I’ll miss the scenery.

Bich’s favorite subject is the city’s people. “Haiphong has the most handsome men, and the most beautiful women,” she boasts. She adds that it’s also known as, ‘The City of Miss Vietnam’, since a number of beauty queens are from here. Bich obviously has a lot of pride in her hometown.

I chuckle when she says, “People here known for very hard work or laziness.”
 
Then Bich changes the subject, and turns serious. She says that as a large port city, it has a mafia, and may have the worst violence and drug addiction problems in Vietnam. But it’s all very relative really. The crime and drug problems of Haiphong are miniscule, compared to US port cities like New York or Los Angeles.

Wreckage of US warplanes shot down over Haiphong during the war

Despite her city’s rough reputation, she still loves Haiphong. “I like the craziness,” she says. She would stay here, but since better work opportunities are elsewhere, she’s leaving for China.

I ask Bich about Haiphong in wartime, but since she was born afterwards, she didn't have much to say. “We never remember about the war,” Bich says, “unless people ask.” 

Her mother remembers plenty though, since she survived numerous bombing raids then. She remembers the devastation well, especially the aftermath of a raid that hit a commercial center. ”She see 100 bodies,” Bich said, “all lined up together, laying by the market.”

Fortunately her relatives survived the attack, and her mother left Haiphong soon afterwards. Due to air raids, she moved out to the countryside for the rest of the war, where life was safer.

These days, city utility workers are regularly exposed to war’s old dangers. Bich says when city workers tear up roads to install sewers, they find heaps of unexploded bombs. Under one recent construction site, instead of bombs, diggers found many skeletons.

“What were the bodies from?” I ask her. “Who killed them?"

On display in Haiphong is an old Russian made Mig-17, next to old navy boat

“Maybe Japanese,” Bich guesses, but no one knows for sure. Since they were buried in unmarked graves, they couldn’t blame Americans, as US troops never occupied Haiphong. They were likely killed by the French, who occupied Haiphong far longer than the Japanese.

Bidding goodbye to Bich, I head back to my hotel. As I pass a museum, through the fence I spot an old Russian made Mig-17 under an enclosure. Nearby is a pile of wreckage from various US aircraft that were shot down over Haiphong.
 
Entering for a closer look, I approach, and two dogs lunge at me from the shadows barking savagely. I jump back out of reach. Fortunately, they're tethered underneath the old obsolete jet. With these canine guardians, I won’t be able to get a closer look at the Russian made Mig.
 
As it’s growing darker, I depart for my old French hotel. Settling in for the night, I flip on the TV. Finding the History Channel, I'm surprised it's airing a program on aerial dogfights over North Vietnam during the war! As I watch the episode, an animated re-enactment shows two US Navy Skyraiders shoot down a Mig-17, just like the one I saw rusting on the street.

I’m amazed. Somehow, this show wasn’t blocked by Vietnamese censors!

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.

'HANOI HILTON' PRISON AND SENATOR MCCAIN

Entrance to Hoa Lo Prison, aka 'The Hanoi Hilton'

Future Senator McCain, as a young prisoner of war (Source: Hoa Lo Museum)

I’m heading down Hai Ba Trung, one of Hanoi’s busy downtown streets. Motorbikes and buses buzz by, until I turn on a quiet side street, finding a walled old colonial complex. Reaching the gate, a French arch over double doors reads, ‘Maison Centrale’. This entrance gate is misleadingly pleasant in appearance.

Upon passing inside, I find forbidding hallways, and dark rooms with steel doors. Electric fencing across the rooftop gives away the purpose of this place. This wasn’t just any little 'maison', this was a prison! Located in downtown Hanoi, this is the infamous former prison known as Hoa Lo. It is better known in the US by the name that American Prisoners of War gave it: "The Hanoi Hilton'.

Dark cells in the prison's 'death row' - Hoa Lo Prison is now a museum

Within these dismal walls, hundreds of American POW’s were held captive, as the war dragged on for longer than anyone expected. Hoa Lo happens to be a prison where the Vietnam War’s most famous prisoner of war was held captive. That prisoner was a Navy pilot, by the name of Lt. John McCain.

Flying a bombing mission over Hanoi in 1967, McCain’s A-4 aircraft was struck by a missile. Ejecting as his jet spun downward, his helmet and oxygen mask were blown off. Both of his arms and a leg were broken. He landed in Hanoi’s Truc Bach Lake, and barely able to move from his injuries, he was pulled from the water by the Vietnamese. In a rage from the deadly air attacks, McCain was beaten, and stabbed with a bayonet.

Brought to a prison and left in a bare cell, McCain was denied medical treatment. He nearly died. Then the

Old aerial view of Hoa Lo Prison (Source: Hoa Lo Museum)

Vietnamese military learned that his father was a Navy admiral. Deciding  that McCain was more valuable to them alive then dead, they finally gave him medical treatment. They hoped to use him for propaganda purposes. This didn’t stop them from mistreating him later, and during the next 5 1/2 years, he was tortured and beaten numerous times. Years later when became a US Senator, he spoke up repeatedly against the use of torture, since he had survived it himself in this prison.

French colonials imprisoned the Vietnamese in leg restraints

Hoa Lo prison was originally built by the French back in 1896. During colonial years the inmates here were Vietnamese revolutionaries and criminals. As bad as it was during the American years, conditions were even worse when it was a French prison. Originally built to hold less than 500 inmates, it was later packed to hold nearly 2,000.

Entering a long, open prison room, I learn how French guards dealt with the problem of overcrowding. On both sides of the room are long wooden platforms, where Vietnamese prisoners were lined up one after the other. Running lengthwise on these platforms are leg stocks, and the prisoners were restrained with one, or both of their feet locked inside. This way they were forced to either sit, or lay down in one spot for nearly the entire day. Since the prison is now a museum, emaciated dummies have been placed in the stocks to demonstrate the effect. It looks like something out of a cruel, 19th century slave ship.     

Depiction of French torturing Vietnamese in the prison

 
Most of the Hoa Lo museum is dedicated to Vietnamese prisoners who fought the French, and for some Vietnamese inmates, their punishment here was final. Entering another grim room, I come upon a guillotine. This isn’t some side show reproduction either, this instrument of death is genuine. Invented during the terrors of the French revolution, the colonials brought the guillotine to Vietnam, and it was used in this prison to execute murderers and revolutionaries. Down a dark adjacent hall, depressing brick prison cells make up the section which was Hanoi’s death row.

Stepping into an inner courtyard, I happen upon a bas relief depicting the torture of Vietnamese prisoners here. After North Vietnam won its independence from France in 1954, the communists took over Hoa Lo. A decade later, the Vietnamese would use some of those same torture techniques that had been inflicted on them, on American prisoners held here. There is no bas relief depicting that.

Heading for a corner of the prison, I find the smallest cells of all. I open the creaky steel door, and look inside. Small, dark and empty, the cell is

Conditions were inhumane in these cells for solitary confinement

totally without furniture. With very little light, it is practically a dungeon. These were for solitary confinement, and the shutters were usually kept closed in the summer, making the heat stifling. For the Vietnamese, and the Americans who languished here, these cells were despair at its worst.

As if these cells weren’t bad enough, the communists occasionally restrained McCain and other prisoners here by their feet. Just inside the door is the room’s only feature; metal leg irons on the floor. When prisoners were locked into these, conditions were filthy, since prisoners had no choice but to relieve themselves where they sat. The concrete floor is relatively clean now, but at prison camps across Vietnam, American POWs were often not allowed to bathe for days or weeks at a time.

Most of the museum is dedicated to Vietnamese who suffered here, but two rooms have displays on American prisoners. As usual, their propaganda claims that the Americans were treated well here, and any mistreatment of POWs is completely omitted.

There are some intriguing photos here. An old black and white propaganda photo shows Vietnamese troops parading American POWs through Hanoi streets, while citizens look on. I wonder if Vietnamese even realize today, that parading around war prisoners is a violation of the Geneva Conventions.

Upon one wall, is a photo of the prisoner who almost became President of the United States: young Lieutenant John McCain. I have to hand it to McCain, he could have very easily died here in captivity, but he looks strong in this picture. If they were attempting to get McCain’s photo to look like a gloomy mugshot, they failed completely. Blonde and unshaven, he looks serious, even defiant. He looks more like a college linebacker than a prisoner. A display case contains what it claims is McCain’s flight suit, but this is unproven with the name patch removed.

Leaving the prison, I return to the same neighborhood on a later day. Entering an impressive high rise, I find a modern café on the ground floor. Buying a juice, I grab a seat, and take advantage of their free internet. Out in the lobby, a pair of pretty Vietnamese ladies hand out fliers to promote cell phones. Men wearing suits and ties catch the elevator, on their way to business meetings. It’s a picture of thriving capitalism, and it all happens to be located on land that was once part of the Hoa Lo prison.

As capitalism in Vietnam took off in the 1990’s, the government realized that this big former prison was located on very valuable downtown land. So the majority of the prison was torn down, and two modern buildings named the ‘Hanoi Towers’ were constructed in their place. Only one wing of the former Hoa Lo prison still remains, and it’s now the museum.

Ex-POW Capt Peterson later became ambassador to Vietnam!

Where once there were old brick cells and prison turf, there is now a towering building full of office space and retail. It doesn’t seem possible, but on the very same land where John McCain’s dirty prison cell once stood, you can now rent a serviced apartment in a 25 story building, starting at  $3000 per month! It’s an outrageous price for such a poor country, but at least it’s progress. To replace a dark, dilapidated old prison with two new commercial buildings, makes for excellent progress anywhere.

More important than what happened to those prison buildings, is what happened to the men who survived here. One of those POWs, Air Force Capt. Pete Peterson later joined the State Department. After diplomatic relations were re-established in the 1990s, this former prisoner of the Hanoi Hilton returned to Hanoi. He was America’s first Ambassador to the Socialist Republic of Vietnam.

For John McCain, it may have been the twisted turn of events and injuries that he survived in Hanoi, that brought him to politics. If his high speed ejection and subsequent abuse had not caused him permanent injuries, he may have remained a naval officer for life like his father before him. But since he could no longer be a pilot and was left partially disabled, McCain later left the Navy and entered politics where he remains today. Despite the torture and mistreatment he endured here, McCain has admirably not held a grudge against Vietnam. As a US Senator, he supported improved relations, and he voted in favor of normalizing diplomatic relations with Vietnam.

Over the years Senator McCain returned to Vietnam repeatedly, and these days, he advocates improved military relations. He most recently returned in 2009, when he again toured the Hoa Lo prison, accompanied by two other US Senators. Before leaving the place where he almost lost his life, he signed the museum’s guestbook. His message: “Best wishes.”

 

Old prison in foreground, new high rise beyond

Young ladies promote mobile phones on former prison property, now a commercial center

UNEXPLODED BOMBS ON FIREBASE GIO LINH

'War and Peace' on a Vietnamese dashboard

I’m on Vietnam's Highway 1, and this time I’m headed directly north, towards the former DeMilitarized Zone (DMZ). This route was so dangerous during the war, that you would have only wanted to ride this route from the inside of a tank. As Vietnam is now at peace, we settle for a tiny van.

On the dashboard of our van, I notice a small statuette of Buddha. Mounted right next to it, is a plastic helicopter, glued to the top of an air vent. The air flow is spinning the tiny Huey’s rotor blades as we drive. 'War and Peace', together on the dashboard. What a contrast...

It’s overcast today, and I’m hoping the weather will hold. We pass by a group of walking schoolchildren in blue and white uniforms, and soon we pull over by an embankment.

We’ve stopped by an overgrown field, and I notice a big and brown hulk of steel over above the brush. It’s a stripped M-41 tank. In this one, the empty engine compartment is totally open to the sky. Strangely, it has brush

Old US made M-41 tank next to Highway 1, flowers grow where the engine used to be

and flowers growing up out of it. It looks like a bizarre giant metal planter.

Walking up the embankment, a path takes us through high brush into a vast open field. My guide walks us toward two concrete bunker near the field’s center, where a cow on a tether stands watch. Bushes everywhere bear red, yellow, purple and white flowers. A butterfly flits away. We step atop one of the empty bunkers for a view of our surroundings. This is one of the highest points on what used to be a former US Marine base, and from here I see the coast only a few miles away. More importantly I can see all the way north, into what used to be North Vietnam.

This was Gio Linh Firebase.
 
The Marines battle at Khe Sanh is well known, but few know there was also a two month artillery battle here in 1967. Since Gio Linh was so close to the DMZ, it was a favorite target of artillery gunners of the North Vietnamese Army (NVA), and it was one of the first US bases fired on from North Vietnamese territory. In those long days of bombardment, two Marines were killed, and 76 were wounded. Although those casualties sound light compared to other battles in Vietnam, there were only 120 men based in Gio Linh at a time, including both Marines and US Army soldiers. 

A sign near the highway gives the Vietnamese name for this base: “Doc Mieu Firebase Relic”. Also on the sign is a misspelled name that anyone familiar with the Vietnam War will remember, “MAC_NA_MARA”.

Military bunker, built after US forces departed

Gio Linh was part of a project nicknamed, ‘McNamara’s Wall’. Named after Secretary of Defense Robert McNamara, the original idea of it was to establish a line of fortified bases just south of the DMZ that stretched from the coast all the way to the Laotian border. This would enable the US to watch the DMZ closely, and to block NVA troops from crossing into South Vietnam. That was the idea anyway. Since heavy Soviet made artillery guns hidden in North Vietnam could strike far past the DMZ, bases like Gio Linh were vulnerable. Even if the plan had worked, the NVA still had another route. They simply walked around the DMZ through the jungles of Laos, sending their troops south down the Ho Chi Minh Trail.

The concrete bunker I’m standing on looks fairly new, and it turns out that it’s not left over from the Marines. My guide of the day says that these two newer bunkers were built in 1994, long after the US had gone. The Vietnamese weren’t looking north anymore, they were looking east to watch the South China Sea. Tensions rose again with China, over the Spratly and Paracel Islands off of Vietnam's coast. Like the Americans before them, the Vietnamese wanted this spot as a lookout.
 
I wonder about the scattered holes I see around these newer bunkers, and my guide shows me a large hole, with some brush growing in it. He points inside, and says matter of factly, “There, bomb.”

An unexploded artillery shell lies in a hole on the former US base

Beneath some branches, is the unmistakeable outline of a rusty artillery shell. Lying in their like a giant bullet, it hasn’t been disarmed yet. A couple of feet away, lies a second one. Since Gio Linh had withstood so many NVA artillery attacks, some unexploded shells are still left buried in the dirt where they ended their deadly trajectory. These accumulated over the years until the base fell to the north in 1972, and everything else above ground was looted. These two potentially deadly shells remained buried for years, until a scrap metal hunter found them while he was looking for shrapnel. Since these two hadn’t yet exploded, he left them in this open hole. The scrap hunter was very lucky he wasn’t blown to pieces when he first dug them up.

My old guide Nguyen isn’t along today, but I recall what he told me about unexploded bombs and the post-war economy around here. “After war, people have nothing to do, (no jobs) so collect metal, from bomb,” he said. “Unscrew the tail, take out gunpowder. Sell gunpowder. Sell metal. Very dangerous. Many people die.”

I’ve heard that after the war, former ARVN soldiers were forced by the communists to clear out unexploded bombs and minefields around the DMZ. Forced into this deadly work, they had little training, and little safety equipment. Many were killed or maimed. If Nguyen was forced to do this dangerous work, he wasn’t about to tell me. He still fears the communist government.

As Vietnam’s population grows, population pressure is forcing people to clear farmland and build new homes on old battlefields, bringing them closer to old munitions. There are even a few family homes built on the former Gio Linh Base, though the land around them is still a dangerous place for their children to play. As I leave, I'm careful to stay on the well worn paths. I don't want to step on anything dangerous.

Since the Vietnam War ended, more than 10,000 Vietnamese civilians have been killed by unexploded ordinance (UXO) and landmines, and more than 12,000 have been injured. A third of those killed were scrap metal hunters.

Decades after the war ended, Vietnam’s people are still dying from the remnants that the war left behind.

EXPLOSION NEAR DEMILITARIZED ZONE

Unexploded bombs, aka unexploded ordinance (UXO) on display in Khe Sanh near Highway 9

There’s been an explosion.

I’m on Highway 9 close to the former DeMilitarized Zone, and due to the blast, traffic has completely stopped in both directions. Everyone’s looking off to the south side of the road, where there’s a big cloud of smoke and dust.

Oh no.

Has there been another casualty from an old unexploded artillery shell? Or did a truck roll over an old anti-tank mine? Sadly, more than a hundred of these incidents from old war explosives happen in Vietnam every year.

Fortunately, that’s not the case. There was an explosion all right,

Dangerous unexploded munitions are still found in these foreboding hills around Highway 9

but it was from a rock and gravel company situated right by the highway. They were blasting to loosen rock for construction. A large dust cloud hangs in the air at the base of a steep, bare cliff. Traffic was stopped in case the resulting landslide was larger than they expected, and threatened the highway traffic.

The rock slide dust gradually dissipates, and traffic starts up again. I remember back when I used to work in Afghanistan, where old unexploded war munitions were often used to fashion explosive charges for quarrying. I wonder if that was what happened here. In any case, it’s good to know that this was an explosion aimed at progress, not for destruction. Still, any explosion is unnerving,

Dakrong Bridge, seen from a distance

especially near the old DMZ.

Heading back to Dong Ha along Highway 9, we pass other construction businesses, such as gravel, lumber and brick making. There’s even heavy construction equipment and earthmovers. I see most are Japanese made, but there are Caterpillar earthmovers too. It’s good to see the American market is finding business here.

Heading east towards the coast, we come to the most visible sign of modern progress around, the Dakrong Bridge. This was once the site of a primitive supply bridge over the Quang Tri River. Starting in 1973 the North Vietnamese Army (NVA) used it to take military supplies and troops into the highlands. Once a mud track, this route south has been built into the Ho Chi Minh Highway; a fitting name since it was on the Ho Chi Minh Trail.

The Dakrong Bridge that replaced it was built with aid from Cuba after the war. Showing the quality of communist workmanship, it later collapsed. But it was rebuilt and still stands today. The current version is a cable stay bridge, with radiating cable supports reaching down from tall concrete pillars. In this poor post-war province, it’s the most modern piece of infrastructure on all of Highway 9.

Since the way the Vietnamese economy is booming these days, I wonder if the Vietnamese government is now giving aid back to the Cubans!