BEHEADED STATUES OF DISGRACED ARMY

One of the few paved highways in Cambodia

I'm on a rare road today, a Cambodian highway, paved, smooth, and brand new. This used to be nothing more than a bumpy dirt road laced with landmines. Somewhere near here my friend Mali stepped on a landmine and lost her leg. We're about 70 miles north of Angkor Wat, in what was dangerous Khmer Rouge turf, one of their last holdout zones.

The roadside here used to be dotted with intimidating war refuse: abandoned Khmer Rouge tanks. Late in the war, when the communists had an old unfixable Chinese tank, they just pushed it to the side of this road, and pointed the turret south towards the enemy. That gave them an instant armored bunker, useful for keeping the Cambodian Army away. Those menacing metal hulks were left there for years.

Thankfully those metal monstrosities are gone, and after the peace agreement, foreign funding built this modern two lane highway. If the Khmer Rouge ever rebels in this area again, it will be much easier, and quicker, for the government to rush federal troops here on this new blacktop road. Even better, this national highway has a more beneficial use: commerce. With this road going all the way to the Thai border crossing, there is increased trade, and an improving peacetime economy.

Cruising north, I see a long ridge stretching across the horizon. These are the Dangkrek Mountains, a long mountain chain stretching from northwest Cambodia, all the way east to the ancient temple of Preah Vihear, and beyond. Beyond that mountain ridge, is Thailand.

Monument to radical Khmer Rouge, surrounded by spirit houses

The flat road starts to curve, and we start climbing the first set of hills. Coming up the Sa Ngam Pass, the road splits, as it rounds a large boulder. Carved into the boulder itself, is the last monument left to the murderous Khmer Rouge regime. Or what’s left of it anyway. There are two small soldier like statues, and both have been decapitated. One has lost a hand, an arm, and both legs. A taller statue of a Khmer woman has lost both arms. She still balances a stone food bundle on top of her now faceless head.

“Thai (people) do this. Take to Thailand and sell,” explains my driver Shanghai. Maybe that's true, but it’s also possible that poor Khmers chopped off the heads and sold them, as happened at Angkor Wat. Or maybe Khmers did it out of revenge, for all the murders that the communists committed.

Examining the smallest, legless torso wearing military gear, it appears that this was a statue of a child soldier. The extremist Khmer Rouge had no ethical problem with turning innocent children into murderous soldiers. They thought their young minds were more ‘pure’, and more accepting of radical communism. They believed that most adults, had been ‘poisoned’ by exposure to the old regime.

Two beheaded statues of fighters

In contrast to the dark stone of the ruined statues, the monument is surrounded Buddhist spirit houses on pedestals, made of many colors. There are so many, they nearly block the statues from view. Thousands of Khmer Rouge soldiers died fighting the Vietnamese and Cambodian armies. Given there murderous history, there never has been, nor will there ever be, an official memorial to their dead soldiers. The remains of these old communist carvings have become a memorial to them, by default. With no graves or headstones to pray over, these spirit houses and incense were left here by their mourning Buddhist families.

Continuing on we drive through the border town of Choam, and turn off the highway. Up ahead, the road is closed. Cheap red and white fencing blocks the road. It's spooky; there's nobody in sight.

“That the new border crossing, but no use,” Shanghai tells me. The crossing is closed today, due to ongoing border disputes. “The Thai build on Cambodia land. Now big problem with Cambodia and Thailand.” My driver goes on to explain how Thailand is taking a little more Cambodian land each day. In Pol Pot’s time, the border was further away. Apparently the Thais respected the Khmer Rouge more than they respect the current Cambodian government.

Moving down side roads, we pass small shops and shacks. Then we take a garbage strewn road east out of town. The garbage thins out, tuning into a bumpy rural road. We're not traveling far, but Shanghai has to drive slowly to make his way over this rutted, potholed road. Going up the small hills, his old car strains for traction on the reddish dirt.

The border crossing to Thailand is closed

Shanghai explains, “Since last year, road more bad.” Rural roads here are rarely maintained. As the kilometers go on, we pass shacks and Khmer farm houses. A few settlers are clearing land for planting. We come to a picturesque field, a wide open space, bordered by lush jungle. It’s a prime location for a homestead or farmer’s field, but its unplanted.

There’s a small red sign right in the middle of the field, with a skull and crossbones. This is no 'Pirates of the Caribbean' joke. What that sign means, is that this whole lovely looking field of several acres, is one big minefield. Until somebody comes up with a couple thousand dollars to clear it safely, this prime field will remain uninhabited.

Since this was one of the last Khmer Rouge strongholds, this whole mountain ridge was heavily mined. That makes this part of Cambodia a very dangerous place to settle. Along the bumpy road, I see numerous signs posted by demining organizations. One sign reads, “Humanitarian Mine Clearance, Minefield cleared by CMAC, Police Batallion Headquarters”.

Passing shacks, I note a few soldiers lounging about. Many of these men are also ex-Khmer Rouge, now wearing Cambodian Army uniforms. As part of the peace agreement that ended the war, some men kept their territory, changed uniforms, and became part of the Cambodian Army. Many of these shacks belong to them and their families. It is a difficult place to homestead though. With many thousands of mines still buried in this area, there is little agricultural land available to turn these ex-soldiers into farmers. 

WHERE OLD WEAPONS GO TO DIE

An old tank rusts among mango trees near Siem Reap

It's sad but true, that a 500 lb bomb is not an uncommon sight in Southeast Asia. During my travels here, I've seen them used as door stops, and as decorations. They've even been disarmed, hollowed out, and reformed to use as bells for Buddhist temples. The heavy bomb before me standing on it’s end, has a long pole sticking straight up out the nose where the detonator used to be. Atop the pole, is a Cambodian flag. This old American bomb, has become a flagpole base.

“Your country have war?” one of the staff asks me as I look.

“Yeah,” I answer. “We have war.” 

Although my country now fights a war in Afghanistan, (where I worked as an aid worker) it occurs to me that our war is not fought at home, like happened here. The Afghanistan war is fought in a faraway land, while most at home in America go about their normal lives. But here in Cambodia, war engulfed the entire nation. Every family suffered terrible losses, and Cambodia would never be the same. The tools used to destroy Cambodia and its people surround me here, in the Military Museum near Siem Reap.

Old Chinese and Soviet armor, stripped of parts

Unlike the usual stuffy indoor museums, this is outdoors. Here in between the grass and leafy green trees, are brownish, rusting steel hulks of old military armored vehicles. These are from the cold war era, built in China or the former Soviet Union. There are numerous tanks and armored personnel carriers. Many are stripped of their parts. Without its wheels, one armored carrier looks more like an odd metal boat, rather than a threatening land vehicle.

Some of these heavy beasts had long histories. One Soviet made T-54 tank here was built in 1954. It was later given to North Vietnam; used during the war against the US and South Vietnamese armies. After that war, it was used by the Vietnamese Army when they invaded Cambodia. Next, it was given to the new Cambodian Army. Finally, it was damaged beyond repair by a Khmer Rouge landmine in 1994. Soviet built vehicles had a reputation for mechanical breakdowns, and somehow, this one remained in use for 40 years. That may be some kind of record for a Soviet built tank.

Some tanks here were used by several different armies

I climb onto another old armored carrier parked under a tree. It’s been thoroughly stripped, with the turret and all the hatches removed. I stick my head within for a look, and find many mango laden tree branches reaching inside. The fruit hang down through open steel hatches. So this place isn’t just a military museum, it’s also a mango orchard. 

As far as high tech weapons go, there's little here. There's only an old MiG jet, and a Russian built Mi-8 helicopter outside in the parking lot. But the fact is, most of the fighting in Cambodia took place on the ground, not in the air. It was just too expensive to use jets and helicopters in this dirt poor country.  

Unlike war museums that I've seen in Laos and Vietnam, this museum has no propaganda. It's simply lots of weapons, with simple, hand written captions. A notable example, is the caption for the only unarmored vehicle on display: a wooden wagon. The caption reads:

Old disarmed weapons from Cambodia's wars

“COW CART

Cow Cart used to transporte the

Ammunition Weapons by Khmer Rouge

Since 1970 ~ 1998”

Well, if your tanks or trucks ran out of gasoline, I suppose it’s better to have a cow cart than nothing.

Entering a shack, I'm surprised to find a wide range of assault rifles lying on a shelf in front of me. Gun fanatics would absolutely wet themselves here. There must be nearly 50 machine guns on hand. There are weapons made in Russia, China, USA, UK, and more. There's even an Israeli made Uzi. Some look relatively new, some look ancient, including World War II era guns. There is a Browning Automatic Rifle, and a Thompson submachine gun. Surprisingly, these aren’t in display cases, and there are no locks either. I pick up the Thompson, and feel it in my hands. This is the infamous 'Tommy' gun, preferred by American gangsters way back during prohibition. For a small machine gun, it’s surprisingly heavy.

Old Rocket Propelled Grenade Launchers (RPGs)

I pick up a Kalashnikov, with its signature curved ammunition clip. I remove the clip, and pop it back in. Unlike the others, this one isn’t so rusty, and the bolt still works. I pull back the bolt and release it. It's now cocked. I pull the trigger.

Click.

Dry fire. I’m surprised at how light the AK-47 is. The M-16 they have here is very light too. These deadly weapons are so much lighter and easier to handle than the older weapons. It's no wonder they were used by so many child soldiers in Southeast Asia before, and in Africa and the Middle East today. 

I have another sobering thought. With so much violence in Cambodia over the decades, there’s a good chance that many of these weapons here in front of me have killed people, including innocent civilians. 

Finally, they have rocket propelled grenade launchers, M-79 grenade launchers, and a heavier .30 caliber machine gun on a tripod. I’ve never seen such a wide variety of weapons, in such a small place. I notice there aren’t any pistols on display though; they would be too easy to steal. It would be more difficult to walk out the exit, with a Kalashnikov under your shirt. I notice two old red flags here too, from the hated Khmer Rouge. I wonder if they were captured in battle, or if they were turned in after the 1998 peace agreement.

Chinese terror weapon: 177 mm rockets

Walking outside, four long metal cylinders are sitting on small stands. They look like tank shells, but are even longer. These are Chinese made 107mm rockets. These can be launched without the use of any tube. As such, they're very inaccurate. Since these rarely hit any military target, they are principally a terror weapon. The Khmer Rouge used these to target civilian neighborhoods of Phnom Penh in 1975. They are still in use today. When I was in Afghanistan, the Taliban used them frequently, firing them at Kabul a few times a week. Just like here, they rarely hit anything military. It was the civilians who suffered casualties.

A couple of well manicured, grassy areas are more chilling. They are strewn with various types of anti-personnel mines, and unexploded mortar rounds. All these have been disarmed. This isn’t a realistic display of landmines though. Landmines are usually invisible to the naked eye, buried just beneath the surface. It’s only after stepping on them that their exact location is known, when an explosion is triggered. By then someone has lost a limb, or a life.

Nearby are disarmed landmines. Stack after stack, all brown with rust, these have been unburied from Cambodia's footpaths, roads and rice paddies. 

I find one positive thought, among all these weapons of destruction. None of these deadly weapons that I see here, will ever hurt anyone again.

Never, ever again.

Mangoes grow inside this defanged, disabled war weapon

THE TANK, THAIS AND RUSSIANS IN LAOS

Remains of Russian built PT-76 tank sits on old battlefield site in northern Laos

I’m at the base of an old battleground in the Laotian village of Nako. This hill has been left to the elements, covered with brush and young trees. No farmers will plant crops atop this knoll, because it’s still too dangerous to walk up there even today. The brush still hides landmines and unexploded ordinance from the battle that took place here. 

There are no ancient relics here like I saw at the nearby 'Plain of Jars', but right on the hillside is other evidence. An abandoned PT-76 tank has been left behind by the North Vietnamese Army! My guide Phin says this part of the hill has been cleared of explosives, so we walk towards the old wreck, without fear of losing a leg to a landmine. 

As tanks go, it’s not very large at all. It’s a lighter Russian built tank, brought by the Vietnamese deep into Laos as they fought to take over the Plain of Jars during the 1964 - 1973 war. Back then there were no paved roads in northern Laos. It was so rugged, that only a light tank could have made that difficult journey. Even then, it appears that this tank traveled all that way, only to get stuck here. It now rests on an angle against a tree, as though it got stranded in a muddy ditch long ago. 

Opposite view of the abandoned tank. Even the treads have been stripped away for scrap.

But Phin tells a different story. “This tank hit the anti-tank mine,” he says. If that’s true, it’s hard to tell by looking at it now. Both of the tank’s treads are gone. Like other abandoned American built tanks that I saw earlier in Vietnam, it has been stripped of everything that could be cut away, and sold for scrap or other uses. Even the hatches are gone. The gunless steel turret is lying upright on the ground just steps away, right under a fence. Strangely, the locals are using the tank’s small turret as a step, in order to climb over the barbed wire. 

As a light tank the armor isn’t very thick. Looking closer, I find a small hole in the side, with shrapnel scars around it. Apparently some kind of armor piercing round struck the front corner. The deadly round was well placed, because it hit right next to where the tank’s driver was seated. I doubt he survived. 

“All the tank drivers were Vietnamese,” Phin informs me. I imagine that most of the North Vietnamese troops that fought here, never imagined that they’d be fighting in Laos. Instead of fighting Americans over in South Vietnam, they were sent across the border into Laos. The only Americans they faced here were pilots in the air. On the ground they fought the Hmong, the Royal Laotian Army, and a 'special' army from Thailand.

The tank's detached turret is now used by locals to step over a farm's fence!

As the war dragged on in Laos, the Hmong troops that fought here on the Plain of Jars suffered heavy losses against the well armed NVA. With few adult men left among the Hmong to replace their losses, Hmong boys joined the fight as child soldiers. This wasn’t enough, and to fill the gap to stop the advancing communists, the Thai military joined the fight. It’s often forgotten that thousands of Thai troops fought not only in Vietnam, but also here in Laos. Back then, (and continuing today,) Thailand and Vietnam were the main powers in Southeast Asia. 

Since the Thai and Lao languages are so similar, Thai soldiers fit in well with the Royal Laotian Army. These Thai troops were tasked with defending many bases and hilltop outposts like this one, leaving the Hmong to conduct combat operations in the field. The fact that Thai troops were fighting within Laos was a closely guarded secret at the time.

We return to our tiny van, and head back towards Phonsavan. Cruising across the rolling hills, we pass more farming villages, green with the growing season. As we drive, Phin recalls what life was like in these villages after the war. “1975 to 1990 was the hungry period,” he says. “Not enough food.” Agricultural collectivization brought shortages to the farmers, and it also brought the Russian advisors. 

Parked chopper above, for MIA search teams

“This was Russian farm,” Phin says as we pass a vacant facility. Pointing the other direction, he says. “over there, was Russian cattle farm.”

The arrival of Russian advisers also meant a revolution in foreign language study in Laos. “At that time, there was no more French in schools. No more English,” he tells me. “Everyone learned Russian.” Phin speaks English better than most Laotian translators I’ve met, but he still wishes he had begun studying it earlier. Remembering his student days, Phin made fun of one of his former language instructors. 

“My teacher tell me, 'Learn Russian. Later, go to university in Soviet Union. In 20 to 30 years, whole world will be communist'.” Then Phin laughs aloud at how wrong she was, given the outcome of the Cold War. “I think, where is she now?” He chuckles. 

As the van rounds a corner, I look up to the sky, and spot a red and white helicopter high ahead of us. It looks like the small chopper that I had taken a photo of earlier. I had seen it parked in Phonsavan, the town where I'm staying.

“That for the US government,” Phin says. “They looking for missing body.” 

Apparently there is nothing secret about the mission of the two US soldiers that I met in Phonsavan in Craters Restaurant recently. Even Phin knows that there are Americans here looking for remains of servicemen still 'Missing in Action' (MIA) from the war.   

Watching the helicopter head for the horizon, I reflect on the past. Years ago, the skies over Laos were criss-crossed by so many US aircraft. There were US Air Force jet fighters, bombers and rescue choppers. There were CIA spotter planes and cargo planes. Now the only aircraft flying over northern Laos under the control of the Americans, is a small helicopter, and it's not even American owned. It's rented from New Zealand!

WHERE DID THE VIETNAM WAR END? HERE.

'Independence Palace' where the Vietnam War ended

This is where it all ended. After decades of destruction, and the loss of over two million lives, the Vietnam War ended right here.

I’m standing at the front gates of the ‘Independence Palace’, the previous government’s version of the White House. Other official listings refer to it as “Reunification Palace’, and also as the ‘Presidential Palace’. Like so many locations around the former Saigon, this site seems to have an identity crisis.

I peer through the palace front gates at the very spot, where on April 30, 1975, that the end came. In dramatic fashion North Vietnamese Army tanks crashed through these very gates, and quickly captured the palace, bringing about the end of the Republic of Vietnam.

Visitors view a grand Asian carpet near the palace entrance

For such a long war with so much bloodshed, the end of the conflict finally came with no shots fired at all. This is where the dream of reunification for Vietnam, was at last realized. This is also where for Vietnam, the dream of democracy died.

When the end of the war came, all the leaders who had started this war were already dead as well. Ho Chi Minh was dead. Ngo Dinh Diem was dead. Even the two US presidents who had brought America deep into this war, John F. Kennedy and Lyndon Johnson, were also dead. The war had outlived them all. Finally, the war itself was dead too.

I look on the grass off to the side of the gates, where two old tanks are on display. One was made in Russia, and the other in China. These are the same types of tanks as those that crashed through the front gates years before. (The actual tank that crashed the first gate is in a Hanoi museum.) Today, through the same front gates, come invading tour buses. This former seat of power is no longer a heavily guarded government building; it’s been turned into an open museum that marks the war’s end.

Former President Thieu's bedroom, his personal items are long gone

Compared to other buildings from the former Saigon government, the palace is relatively new. This address was once the site of a grand French palace that housed their colonial governor. After independence arrived in 1954, the dictator Diem moved in. He lived here for years, until the old palace was bombed during a 1962 assassination attempt. The building was so heavily damaged, that it was torn down. Afterwards this stronger building was constructed with the help of American aid.

Top floor Presidential 'Game Room', obviously decorated in the 1960's

Although designed by a Vietnamese architect, the rectangular exterior looks more like a 1960’s American office building. When the North Vietnamese Army took over the palace, there was some looting, but much of the furniture inside was left where it was. The palace interior today looks much as it was the day the war ended. Filled with Asian décor from the old regime, the building is somewhat of a time capsule. There are elaborate oriental carpets, and Asian artwork adorns the walls. Grand picture windows are bordered with elegant curtains stretching from floor to ceiling.  Dated light fixtures illuminate old office furniture. Walking into this building, I feel as though I’ve walked back in time, finding myself in 1975.

As befits the home and office for a president, there are reception rooms, a banquet room, countless offices, and a large hall suitable for press conferences. To fill the evening hours, upper levels have a movie theater; a library, and a game room.

President Thieu's office, formerly a center of power in Vietnam

Walking to the back of the building, I enter the former residence of the president’s family. Looking around in the various chambers, I see only bare beds and furniture. I find no personal items or papers left behind by the former first family. There was more looting here than in other parts of the palace, and the president’s clothes and possessions are long gone.

Some odd items remain, including model boats, and three hollowed out elephant’s feet,  the kind used for umbrella stands. Back in the 1970’s, the government here was more worried about saving the country, than they were about saving Asian elephants.

I make my way to an upstairs floor in the palace, entering a large corner office decorated with a touch of luxury. A landscape painting overlooks a large wooden desk. On the desktop, a red rotary phone that hasn’t rung for years sits silent. To the front, meeting chairs sit empty; there will be no more urgent consultations here. A rather tacky stuffed jungle cat bares its teeth atop a nearby dresser.

This office was once a center of power in Vietnam, but no longer. It’s political importance ended long ago. Like much of the palace, the room is now silent, and empty. A sign in four languages says, “OFFICE OF THE PRESIDENT OF THE REPUBLIC OF VIETNAM”.

In this office, sat President Nguyen Van Thieu. A former general, he supported the coup against the despised dictator Diem in 1963. After Diem was overthrown and killed, various military men took control. Eventually, with the support of the US government, Thieu was elected president in 1967. He would hold onto power in South Vietnam, almost until the end.

I look closely at the painting behind the desk, wondering if it was actually here when Thieu occupied the office. It’s an idyllic coastal scene; such a peaceful view of a country that was so devastated by war at the time. Thieu’s carpet and curtains are all bright red, the color of good luck. For Thieu, his luck was not to hold out forever. From this office, try as he might, his control of South Vietnam slowly slipped away. With corruption rampant and the war going badly, his popularity with the public plummeted. When the American government signed the 1973 peace agreement and the US military departed, Thieu’s days as leader here were numbered.

Adjacent to his office is the president’s map room. Detailed maps of the country line the walls, where Thieu was kept updated on the latest news from the battlefields. When the NVA and Viet Cong made their final drive towards Saigon, Thieu saw the writing on the wall. He resigned on April 21, 1975, and fled the country. He was replaced by his Vice President Tran Van Huong, who tried to negotiate a favorable surrender with the communists. Unable to do so, he resigned a week later and also fled.

Although power hungry, and blamed by many for the fall of the south, Thieu remains the only democratically elected president in Vietnam's history. After his departure Thieu lived for a while in Taiwan and England, before eventually settling in the US, the country he bitterly blamed for abandoning South Vietnam. He died in Boston in 2001.

Final surrender took place here in the Cabinet Meeting Room

Back downstairs, I enter the Cabinet Meeting Room, where the official surrender for South Vietnam finally took place. As I walk in the doors, I encounter a curious looking setup. With a long oval table, complete with ten microphones going round it, the meeting room resembles a mini-United Nations.

It was in this room that the last short term president, General Duong Van Minh, was left to face the music. Duong had briefly been South Vietnam’s president before back in 1964, following the coup against Diem. Minh’s tenure then lasted for three months. This last time, he would only be president for two days.

Minh was chosen to be the final president since he had connections with north; he had a brother who was a  North Vietnamese Army general. With the end near, the hope was that Minh could use his connections to negotiate a surrender beneficial for South Vietnam. But it was far too late. Since the ARVN was collapsing, the communists didn’t feel any need to negotiate.

The unconditional surrender of the Republic of Vietnam was accepted by Colonel Bui Tin, an NVA journalist who just happened to be the highest ranking officer present at the time. When Tin entered the Cabinet Meeting Room, everyone immediately stood up. General Minh approached Colonel Tin, and said to him, “We have been waiting for you since this morning to hand over the government.”

Tin bluntly said to General Minh, “You don’t have any government left to hand over to us.” 

Now a prisoner, Minh was taken by jeep to a Saigon radio station where he publicly announced the surrender, and an end to all hostilities. Unlike other ARVN generals who would serve many years in the bamboo gulags, Minh was only imprisoned for a matter of days, before he was allowed to return to his Saigon home. Eight years later he left for France. Like Thieu, he died later in the United States.

As for Vietnam's hero of the fatherland Bui Tin, he later became disillusioned with communism in Vietnam. The ex-Colonel also left the country to settle in Paris, France, where he still lives today. It seems that the end of the war in Vietnam, didn't bring the kind of 'Communist Paradise' that he had hoped for.

WHERE CAPITALISM BEAT COMMUNISM

An old Soviet made tank in Saigon. Folks today are more interested in Toyotas.

“The Ho Chi Minh Campaign” is the Vietnamese name for the last offensive that finally ended the war in 1975. Located down the street from the old Presidential Palace, the Ho Chi Minh Campaign Museum is today almost an afterthought. As I walked around this museum, I was the only visitor! Besides old weapons and usual photo displays, the biggest exhibit and centerpiece of this museum is a large model of Saigon and surrounding provinces. The exhibit shows troop movements from the war’s final days, ending with the communist victory. With flashing LED lights, it’s a very impressive display. Or at least it was. After flipping a few switches, I found it doesn’t work anymore.

Outside the museum are more captured American made weapons, plus a lot of Soviet built weapons used in the final offensive. I find that what’s most telling about being here, is not what’s inside the museum, but what surrounds the place.

Near the entrance, an old North Vietnamese Army tank sits out front. Soviet made, it is the very image of communist power. As I stand and look at it, I can’t help but notice that behind and above it, is a big sign from the Toyota dealership next door. Toyotas are much more relevant to Vietnamese today, than this rusting Russian tank.

Also on the museum grounds, a Soviet built surface to air missile points skyward. These missiles were once the terror of the skies, shooting down American made fighter jets and heavy bombers. Towering beyond the missile in the background, is the massive Prudential Insurance building, one of the taller skyscrapers in Saigon. Also across the street from the museum, is a Mercedes Benz dealership. I recall the two Mercedes I recently saw with the Prime Minister’s motorcade, along with other American made vehicles.

A Russian built surface to air missile, points skyward over the Prudential Building.

These days the car dealerships are getting much more attention than this museum, and the power of commerce is evident throughout the city. With the rise of business, and the decline of communist dogma, one thing is clear. The Communists may have won the war, but the capitalists have won the post-war.

A DEADLY TRAP

A Vietnamese punji trap, designed to trap US foot soldiers

Our group is exploring outside the war tunnels of Cu Chi, when our guide Duc announces, “If you don’t like your wife, let me know, and we can leave her in the tunnel!” A former soldier for South Vietnam during the war, Duc may have had a hard life, but he hasn’t lost his sense of humor.

As I look around, I see another tunnel entrance. This one isn’t for visitors, so I grab a light, and crawl down for a quick look alone. Descending the cramped steps, I get six feet underground, where the tunnel branches out. This tunnel is REALLY cramped; obviously not made for a tall guy like me. It’s only knee high. Squeezing down into the tight space for a better look, my light illuminates the walls of red clay. It gets even tighter further ahead, so I have to stop. If I tried to continue, I would have to shimmy along like a snake, and would probably end up stuck. I don’t really feel like screaming for help, and then being dragged out by my feet.

The war tunnels had many levels, like an underground village

Most of these old war tunnels aren’t safe anymore, and many sections have collapsed from erosion. Although there are no longer Vietnam Cong rebels down here, I recall that certain slithering reptiles still make their homes in these tunnels. With that in mind, I crawl backwards to the entrance and climb out of the tunnel.

Walking on, our group reaches a small clearing in the woods. There are no hiding places here, or so we think. The ground is covered with fallen leaves of the surrounding jungle foliage, and a Vietnamese soldier joins us. He steps towards the center, and reaches down into the leaves. I’m taken aback when he lifts a perfectly camouflaged wooden cover, the size of a shoe box, revealing a dark cavity in the earth beneath. He puts his feet in, drops into the small hole, and pulls the cover closed again, all in less than 10 seconds. His hiding place is virtually undetectable.

This tiny hideout is what was known as a spider hole. Viet Cong would emerge from these holes frequently to fire on patrolling American soldiers. When charging GI’s advanced on the VC’s position, the VC would quickly disappear in seconds back into the spider hole. This left the puzzled, frustrated American soldiers wondering how the lone VC had disappeared.

Feeling brave, I hop into the hole to check it out, but like the tunnels, these small holes were tailor made for the smaller, thinner VC. It takes me longer than the small soldier, but I manage to squeeze in. The lid comes on, and it’s pitch black, tight, but a very effective hiding place. Someone could step on the door itself, and never know I’m down here.

A soldier's hiding place, for thin people only

I climb out, and Duc says that a few days previously, a large Canadian woman got stuck in this very same spider hole. It was a struggle to get her back out. “It took us twenty minutes,” he says. “We needed five people to pull her out.” Duc smirked, added a few vulgarities, and said, “She lost her trousers, her panties, everything.”

As we make our way around the old battlefield, we pass many depressions in the surrounding jungle. These are old bomb craters, of many different sizes. Since the VC tunnel system was never destroyed, this whole region was continuously bombed by aircraft and artillery for years. Duc witnessed a bombing himself. One day he left nearby Dong Du base in a helicopter. “I was riding in Huey,” he said. “We look down, we see smoke come out of ground.”

Their chopper was over tunnel territory, and the smoke they saw was from a hidden chimney. Someone was cooking in an underground Viet Cong kitchen. The co-pilot called in the coordinates, and soon an artillery strike rained down on the surrounding landscape. When the dust cleared, the smoke had stopped.

With so much artillery and aerial bombing, by 1972 Cu Chi’s not all of them exploded. The VC found some of them, and carefully brought them down to the tunnels. Duc brings us to a workshop area of the tunnel network, where a dud 250 pound airborne bomb was left partially opened.

“Here they cut open the bomb, take out explosive,” Duc says. Fighting an enemy that was much better armed then they were, the VC scrounged for weapons and explosives wherever they could. Using simple tools, VC tried to carefully removed the explosives, a very dangerous process. Think of The Hurt Locker, with no body armor. Sometimes as they worked, the bomb went off, killing all the VC near it. When the explosive was successfully removed, it was remanufactured into primitive hand grenades and landmines.

Cu Chi was once well known for fruit trees, but those are long gone now, since it wasn’t just bombs that were dropped on the surrounding woods. “All the tree die, everything dead,” Duc says. “They drop Agent Orange.”

In the early years of the war, Agent Orange was sprayed over rural areas where the enemy was thought to hide. Used as an herbicide to remove brush and trees, nobody knew how toxic the chemical really was in the early years. When the military eventually learned that exposure to Agent Orange was causing health problems, they stopped using it, but by that time it was too late. Millions had already been exposed to the dangerous chemical including soldiers from both sides, and numerous civilians. Many developed health problems later from their exposure, including many types of cancer, Parkinson’s disease, miscarriages, and birth defects in their children.

Decades later trees are growing back now, but few edible crops are grown here, due to the fear of chemicals still present. Much of the land has been switched over to government rubber tree farms.

Arriving at another section of the old battlefield, we reach another clearing, or so it seems. Duc steps into the center and kicks at the grass on the ground. The grassy floor swoops downward like a swinging door, revealing a four foot fall down onto sharpened steel spikes in a pit beneath. This is a punji trap, the kind the VC dug out in the jungle earth, hoping to kill or wound unsuspecting American troops patrolling on foot.

Duc shows us a few more traps here. There are the deep tiger pit-like traps, spiked balls that swung down from trees, and wooden boards that swung down laden with spikes. The most common punji traps were smaller, shallow holes dug out along footpaths. If a GI stepped into one, the bamboo or steel spikes were sharp enough to penetrate through his boot into his foot. The VC sometimes urinated on the spikes before they hid them, to increase the likelihood of infection.

The skeleton of an American M-41 tank, stripped after it was abandoned

We reach another clearing, and come across an old American M-41 tank. It ran over a mine here in 1970, and has been here ever since. Duc says, “One American died here. After tank hit mine, the tank cannot move. He got out, and got shot.”

Some bullet marks are still visible on the outside of the tank. Just steps away, old trenches and a tunnel entrance show where the VC could have taken cover.

Looking at the tank now, it has been stripped of most of its parts. The treads are gone, and the engine’s gone. I remember when I worked in Afghanistan, where I saw old tank engines converted into small village generators. Here, the rest was probably sold for scrap metal by locals. Now it’s just an old shell, for the curious to climb on.

I remember well a tank story from Don, a Vietnam war veteran from my hometown in America. He was an army mechanic based here in Cu Chi. The story went that they had an M-41 tank like this one on their base, and as sometimes happens in any military bureaucracy, all the paperwork for it had been lost. One of the oddities about the US Army, was that it was an extremely difficult, nearly impossible task to re-register a tank without any paperwork. Re-doing the paperwork was such a difficult, time consuming process, that it would have been much easier for them to just take the tank, put it into a hole, and bury it. And that’s exactly what they did.

They found an out of the way corner of the base, and used earth movers to excavate a deep hole. After removing the engine for spare parts, they pushed the tank right into the giant hole, and buried it. That wasn’t quite the end of it. A couple days later, the tank’s radio antenna popped up out of the loose dirt. This worried Don and his buddies. If their base commander found out that they had buried a tank, they would have been in a great deal of trouble. So Don’s Sargeant told him and another GI to grab a couple shovels, go out to the offending antenna, dig down a couple feet, chop it off, and rebury the hole. And that’s exactly what they did.

It almost seems like I should ask Don exactly where that old tank was buried. After all, it could be dug up and all that steel could be recycled. But if that tank was found, it may be more valuable to the Vietnamese government for propaganda purposes. They just might dig it up, repaint it like new, and stick it up on a monument somewhere with a plaque saying how it was captured in battle. The war may be over, but there is still propaganda. 

It would be great for me to get into the old Dong Du base for a look around at Don's old haunts, but I learn that going inside is out of the question. It’s still a military base today, only now it’s occupied by a few thousand troops of the Vietnamese Army. They’re not about to let an American back in.