4-30-2010 liberation day in saigon
Liberation day in saigon, april 30, 2010
I am sitting in my air conditioned hotel room watching as the huge Liberation Day parade just 6 blocks away takes place. It is the expected communist spectacle and I would like to have been there in person. But that meant getting on the bus at 5 A.m. and sitting still for 4-5-6 hours and I just could not face it. We didn’t get in until after 1 a.m. last night and I slept soundly until 6:30; I would have been no good without that sleep.
I went out just now hoping I might be able to get within a block or so to see the parade, but I had already been warned about the extra tight security. There are barricades across all the streets and no pedestrians are allowed through.
Only four or five old hacks went through the government red tape to get into the parade…..again, I wish I could have been there; but glad I’m not sitting there in the heat.
Our next event is a boat cruise on the Saigon River, boarding at noon at the dock in front of the old navy headquarters, just down from 19 Ngo Duc Khe where UPI offices were located.
Yet another amazing day yesterday only this time Carl tried to pack too many events into a scant 12 hours. Three buses took us out to the Cu Chi Tunnels---a major major tourist attraction now, with a huge reception center and tours of the area still pockmarked from the b-52 raids. The jungle growth has come back now, but at the time, it was an absolutely barren landscape, completely seared off by all the intensive bombing. The tunnels were located a few klicks from the US 25th division headquarters near the center of the town of Cu Chi. At one time, the tunnels extended for 250 kilometers and housed up to 12,000 people at a time.
We were ushered into a conference hall and seated at tables, under the obligatory portraits of Marx, Lenin, Ho Chi Minh. Capt. Huynh Van Chia stood with his interpreter and welcomed us. He had only one arm, the result of being hit by an American APC 113 in 1967. He said: “I wish you health and happiness and success….and those as old as me, I wish you to live to 100 years and I hope I will live 100 years so I can meet you again.”
Guides in uniforms led us through the compound; at one place, the guide challenged us to find the entrance to one of the tunnels….when an old hack stepped into it a firecracker like explosive went off and scared hell out of all of us. The real tunnels were dug into dirt and were barely wide enough for these tiny VC to get through them. Our guide showed up where the opening was and he slipped in, then jumped out behind us and said, “I’ve got you covered.”
However, wouldn’t you know, for the American tourists, they have widened the tunnels and reinforced them with Concrete. We all crawled down in there and even with an occasional light, it was difficult to imagine the life they led there in the heat and under such intensive bombing.
At a thatch roofed building outfitted with maps and movie screen, a guide explained how they built the tunnels with hand scoops and small shovels; working at night. There was a mock-up of the tunnel system showing where the hospital room was located and also where a well provided water for the complete…..iron pipes brought in the only ventilation they had.
The guide was brutally honest about the tunnels effectiveness….they could withstand the smaller bombs, but people were always killed when the bigger bombs hit. The documentary film told the stories of various “American killer heroes,” and how they had suffered and how they had stood up to the Americans. The voice over was provided by a sweet-voiced woman speaking clearly enunciated English. I had to wonder how ex-G.I.’s must feel as they sit through this: “Like a crazy bunch of devils they fired into women and children; they fired into houses, they fired into greenery; they fired into our kitchens….”
The guide showed us a deep “punji pit,” as we called them in 68, loosely covered with leaves, it opened to hundreds of poisoned sharp bamboo stakes. He explained that the idea was not to kill just one person, but to wound several, which would take out several troops caring for them…..same same American cluster bombs which were designed with the same purpose.
We finally got back on the bus, running an hour or two late by then, and went up to the Cao Dai Cathedral at Tay Ninh. We were scheduled to ride the cable car to the top of Nui Ba Din mountain where, as Carl said, the Americans had a communications tower on top but the VC were dug into the mountain sides with artillery and rocket emplacements.
It was obvious we weren’t going to make it for our big 7:30 banquet, so we cut the tour short, only to get stuck in a monumental traffic jam back in Saigon……some of us evacuated the bus and grabbed taxis only to learn later that the bus managed to make the turn and get on into the city.
The banquet on the 3rd floor of the very elegant Caravelle Hotel was the high point of the week. Several old hacks had spread out photos on tables, the most interesting of course were Neal Ulevich’s Polaroid portraits of 100 young reporters, now returning as old hacks….a very handsome Matt Franjola, Peter Arnett with hair, and Horst Faas with a [relatively] slim waist line. And there was I: hair down to my shoulder, thick mustache, bags under my eyes. I was 31 years old [this was in Dec. 1972 when I came back to write my book] but I looked impossibly young, my own waist still 28”!
It was, of course, the best food we’d been served all week, a buffet spread all the way around the edge of two sides of the huge room. I sat at a table with Mau and Page and George and Ralph and Al Rockoff, who’d brought along two more copies of my book for me to sign. I was very touched by that and told him so.
At one point, Carl passed around the microphone a dozen or so old hacks said a few words-well, some had more than a few words. Tim Page was his usual eloquent self, speaking poetry quite naturally from the heart. He paused at the mention of his brother Flynn, genuine feelings of loss we all felt. He told about the tacky intrusion into our reunion by the two Aussie bounty hunters and about his own search of nearly 40 years looking for the remains of his beloved friend.
There were some wonderfully funny lines, some awkward attempts at humor. It was all heavily weighted towards the AP because they were the ones who first started having these reunions and have been the most stalwart in keeping them going. Ulevich had a terrific black and white film of the press conference during the Christmas bombing in 1972. I was here then, supposedly on assignment for Rolling stone, but really just getting stoned and not knowing what the fuck I was up to….how innocent ulevich’s picture makes me look, until you notice the bags under my eyes. The point of the five o clock follies during the Christmas bombing was that they would hold the briefings as scheduled but would say nothing. I said the briefing had become what it always was, not a forum for disclosing information, but a ruse for withholding it. I wrote a piece about it never published in Rolling Stone, but eventually in Quill magazine.
I am sitting in my air conditioned hotel room watching as the huge Liberation Day parade just 6 blocks away takes place. It is the expected communist spectacle and I would like to have been there in person. But that meant getting on the bus at 5 A.m. and sitting still for 4-5-6 hours and I just could not face it. We didn’t get in until after 1 a.m. last night and I slept soundly until 6:30; I would have been no good without that sleep.
I went out just now hoping I might be able to get within a block or so to see the parade, but I had already been warned about the extra tight security. There are barricades across all the streets and no pedestrians are allowed through.
Only four or five old hacks went through the government red tape to get into the parade…..again, I wish I could have been there; but glad I’m not sitting there in the heat.
Our next event is a boat cruise on the Saigon River, boarding at noon at the dock in front of the old navy headquarters, just down from 19 Ngo Duc Khe where UPI offices were located.
Yet another amazing day yesterday only this time Carl tried to pack too many events into a scant 12 hours. Three buses took us out to the Cu Chi Tunnels---a major major tourist attraction now, with a huge reception center and tours of the area still pockmarked from the b-52 raids. The jungle growth has come back now, but at the time, it was an absolutely barren landscape, completely seared off by all the intensive bombing. The tunnels were located a few klicks from the US 25th division headquarters near the center of the town of Cu Chi. At one time, the tunnels extended for 250 kilometers and housed up to 12,000 people at a time.
We were ushered into a conference hall and seated at tables, under the obligatory portraits of Marx, Lenin, Ho Chi Minh. Capt. Huynh Van Chia stood with his interpreter and welcomed us. He had only one arm, the result of being hit by an American APC 113 in 1967. He said: “I wish you health and happiness and success….and those as old as me, I wish you to live to 100 years and I hope I will live 100 years so I can meet you again.”
Guides in uniforms led us through the compound; at one place, the guide challenged us to find the entrance to one of the tunnels….when an old hack stepped into it a firecracker like explosive went off and scared hell out of all of us. The real tunnels were dug into dirt and were barely wide enough for these tiny VC to get through them. Our guide showed up where the opening was and he slipped in, then jumped out behind us and said, “I’ve got you covered.”
However, wouldn’t you know, for the American tourists, they have widened the tunnels and reinforced them with Concrete. We all crawled down in there and even with an occasional light, it was difficult to imagine the life they led there in the heat and under such intensive bombing.
At a thatch roofed building outfitted with maps and movie screen, a guide explained how they built the tunnels with hand scoops and small shovels; working at night. There was a mock-up of the tunnel system showing where the hospital room was located and also where a well provided water for the complete…..iron pipes brought in the only ventilation they had.
The guide was brutally honest about the tunnels effectiveness….they could withstand the smaller bombs, but people were always killed when the bigger bombs hit. The documentary film told the stories of various “American killer heroes,” and how they had suffered and how they had stood up to the Americans. The voice over was provided by a sweet-voiced woman speaking clearly enunciated English. I had to wonder how ex-G.I.’s must feel as they sit through this: “Like a crazy bunch of devils they fired into women and children; they fired into houses, they fired into greenery; they fired into our kitchens….”
The guide showed us a deep “punji pit,” as we called them in 68, loosely covered with leaves, it opened to hundreds of poisoned sharp bamboo stakes. He explained that the idea was not to kill just one person, but to wound several, which would take out several troops caring for them…..same same American cluster bombs which were designed with the same purpose.
We finally got back on the bus, running an hour or two late by then, and went up to the Cao Dai Cathedral at Tay Ninh. We were scheduled to ride the cable car to the top of Nui Ba Din mountain where, as Carl said, the Americans had a communications tower on top but the VC were dug into the mountain sides with artillery and rocket emplacements.
It was obvious we weren’t going to make it for our big 7:30 banquet, so we cut the tour short, only to get stuck in a monumental traffic jam back in Saigon……some of us evacuated the bus and grabbed taxis only to learn later that the bus managed to make the turn and get on into the city.
The banquet on the 3rd floor of the very elegant Caravelle Hotel was the high point of the week. Several old hacks had spread out photos on tables, the most interesting of course were Neal Ulevich’s Polaroid portraits of 100 young reporters, now returning as old hacks….a very handsome Matt Franjola, Peter Arnett with hair, and Horst Faas with a [relatively] slim waist line. And there was I: hair down to my shoulder, thick mustache, bags under my eyes. I was 31 years old [this was in Dec. 1972 when I came back to write my book] but I looked impossibly young, my own waist still 28”!
It was, of course, the best food we’d been served all week, a buffet spread all the way around the edge of two sides of the huge room. I sat at a table with Mau and Page and George and Ralph and Al Rockoff, who’d brought along two more copies of my book for me to sign. I was very touched by that and told him so.
At one point, Carl passed around the microphone a dozen or so old hacks said a few words-well, some had more than a few words. Tim Page was his usual eloquent self, speaking poetry quite naturally from the heart. He paused at the mention of his brother Flynn, genuine feelings of loss we all felt. He told about the tacky intrusion into our reunion by the two Aussie bounty hunters and about his own search of nearly 40 years looking for the remains of his beloved friend.
There were some wonderfully funny lines, some awkward attempts at humor. It was all heavily weighted towards the AP because they were the ones who first started having these reunions and have been the most stalwart in keeping them going. Ulevich had a terrific black and white film of the press conference during the Christmas bombing in 1972. I was here then, supposedly on assignment for Rolling stone, but really just getting stoned and not knowing what the fuck I was up to….how innocent ulevich’s picture makes me look, until you notice the bags under my eyes. The point of the five o clock follies during the Christmas bombing was that they would hold the briefings as scheduled but would say nothing. I said the briefing had become what it always was, not a forum for disclosing information, but a ruse for withholding it. I wrote a piece about it never published in Rolling Stone, but eventually in Quill magazine.
posted by Perry Deane Young at 7:50 PM
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