Tag - Vietnam Era

By Museum Director, Greg Waters 

In February 2020, Museum Director Greg Waters spent just over two weeks traveling throughout the southern half of Vietnam. The goal of the trip was to gain a better understanding of how the Vietnamese remember and memorialize what they call the American War. Greg visited numerous museums and memorials as well as locations where important events occurred during the war.

Greg planned to continue traveling north to Hanoi, the capital of Vietnam, but the trip was interrupted by the COVID-19 pandemic. He returned home safely, with plans to get back to Hanoi as soon as possible, when the time is right.

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Chapter 3: The Tunnels at Cu Chi

96 degrees. Stifling jungle humidity. 10 feet underground. Claustrophobia begins to set in as I crawl forward on my hands and knees through the near total darkness, inching my way towards the harsh light of a single exposed lightbulb far off in the distance.

My shoulders are wide enough to brush up against both walls of the tunnel, and I have already hit my head on the roof several times as a crawl. I am thankful for the light, knowing that such a convenience wasn’t enjoyed by the men that navigated these tunnels during the war. Eventually I make my way to the far end and find that the path takes a sudden turn upwards. Craning my neck to look up, I see a framed rectangle of trees and sky – my escape hatch back to the surface.

About an hour drive from downtown Saigon, the Cu Chi Tunnels are a vast network of underground passageways that were created by the Vietcong and used extensively during the war. These narrow corridors allowed Vietcong soldiers to avoid American patrols and air support while also giving them a place to store weapons, food, and other supplies.

Well camouflaged entrances allowed the Vietcong to launch surprise attacks on American soldiers and then quickly disappear, seemingly into thin air. There were hundreds of miles of these tunnels throughout Vietnam during the war. Some of the larger tunnels were used as meeting areas, kitchens, and hospitals, complete with ventilation shafts and multiple entrances.

Upon arriving at the tunnel complex you are met with a collection of abandoned American military vehicles; a Huey helicopter in disrepair; an armored personnel carrier scarred with the marks of major explosions; a tank with its treads blown off. Perhaps most surprising of all, a large cargo plane dominates the space, parked there long enough for several large trees to grow up around it, trapping it in place.

After watching a short video about the history of the tunnels, we were led to a small opening in the jungle floor. During the war, American soldiers and Marines would occasionally discover tunnel entrances like this one and would be forced to decide what to do next. They could destroy the tunnels with explosives but would then lose the opportunity to gather intelligence or capture prisoners.

The other option – entering the tunnels – was full of unique challenges. The tunnels were designed to accommodate a Vietnamese man, on average much smaller than an average American. There was also no light underground and little room to defend yourself. The solution was often to send in the smallest soldier available, armed with just a flashlight and a pistol. These brave men became known as tunnel rats and they were some of the most respected soldiers that served in Vietnam.

The Cu Chi Tunnels are now a major attraction for travelers with several companies offering day trips from Saigon. I spent several hours exploring the tunnel complex with a guide and several other travelers. Our guide was recruited as a young man to join the South Vietnamese Army as a translator. He was sent to language school where he learned English and spent the rest of the war working with the United States Army at Long Binh. After the war, he was sent to a re-education camp for five years. He was a larger-than-life character who shared personal stories of his life during the war and his fond memories of working alongside his American allies. 

The most surreal aspect of my day exploring the tunnels at Cu Chi was the occasional sound of gunfire in the near distance. While the Vietnamese certainly use the tunnels to share their country’s history with visitors, they have also found creative ways to make money in the process. Next to the Cu Chi Tunnels is a firing range where tourists can shoot a wide variety of firearms, including M16s and AK-47s , weapons that were used extensively during the war.

Our group stopped by the range after visiting the tunnels, and several members of our group excitedly exchanged their money for bullets. I had no desire to participate and found the whole concept of the shooting range somewhat jarring. Perhaps I spend too much time thinking about the Vietnam War and its impact on the histories of both the United States and Vietnam, but hearing automatic weapon fire in the place where thousands of soldiers fought and died brought me none of the joy or excitement that it seemingly did for my fellow tourists.

Next Chapter: A Rooftop in Saigon

By Museum Director, Greg Waters 

In February 2020, Museum Director Greg Waters spent just over two weeks traveling throughout the southern half of Vietnam. The goal of the trip was to gain a better understanding of how the Vietnamese remember and memorialize what they call the American War. Greg visited numerous museums and memorials as well as locations where important events occurred during the war.

Greg planned to continue traveling north to Hanoi, the capital of Vietnam, but the trip was interrupted by the COVID-19 pandemic. He returned home safely, with plans to get back to Hanoi as soon as possible, when the time is right.

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Chapter 2: The War Permeates

Please note: this blog contains graphic historical images 

Much has changed in Saigon since the war ended and the city fell to the North Vietnamese in 1975. Notably, the city’s population has seen incredible growth, from just over 2 million residents during the war to an estimated 12 million today. In recent years, the economy has also boomed, making Vietnam a model of progress in Southeast Asia. This influx of international business and new wealth has led to major changes to the urban environment.

Many of the buildings in the downtown area that witnessed the war are being drastically renovated or torn down completely to accommodate new skyscrapers that dot the skyline. This sense of progress and focus on the future is reflected by the demographics of the country – 70 percent of Vietnam’s population is under the age of 35. This incredible postwar population boom has left only a small minority of citizens who experienced the war firsthand.

I spent three days in Saigon, exploring the city and seeking out places where the Vietnam War and its impact could still be seen and felt. Most of my time was spent in District 1, the oldest part of the city and home to several places with a direct connection to the war: the site of the American Embassy, which was attacked during the Tet Offensive in 1968; The Hotel Continental, where international journalists would congregate, drink, and share stories; and the Independence Palace, the home of the president of South Vietnam during the war and the place where North Vietnamese tanks crashed through the gates in 1975.

Also located in District 1 is the War Remnants Museum, where the narrative of the war as told by the Vietnamese government is on display. All of these sites are popular stops for tourists visiting the city.

Scattered throughout District 1, and other sites across the country, you will find American military vehicles that were either captured or left behind when the war ended. Planes, tanks, helicopters, jeeps, trucks, and other equipment in various states of disrepair are on display as war trophies, their presence symbolizing the power of the North Vietnamese in the fight against the American invaders.

The largest collection of American military vehicles in Saigon is parked in front of the War Remnants Museum, comprising three floors of exhibits documenting the official narrative of the war as told by the Vietnamese government. Their version of what happened is a David versus Goliath story that focuses heavily on the resilience and ingenuity of the Vietnamese people to overcome the impossible odds of fighting a war against the most powerful military on earth.

The museum also focuses heavily on darker aspects of the war, with galleries dedicated to war crimes committed by American soldiers and the lasting impact that Agent Orange has had on the country’s landscape and health of its citizens.

Perhaps the most striking place that I visited in Saigon was a small park next to a busy intersection in the middle of downtown. Here you will find a large sculpture of a man in Buddhist robes, sitting peacefully on the ground in a meditative pose while engulfed in flames.

It marks the spot where, in 1963, a Buddhist monk named Thích Quang Duc set himself on fire to protest the treatment of Buddhists under the South Vietnamese government. This extreme act of dedication to a cause, and his eerily calm demeanor while being burned alive, became an international news story. The moment was documented by American journalist and photographer Malcolm Browne who later received the Pulitzer Prize for his photographs taken that day.

Another fascinating place I visited was located a short walk from the city center. The Dan Sinh Market is a huge warehouse filled with endless stalls of vendors selling mostly industrial equipment, tools, and hardware. Throughout the market, however, you will find many vendors hawking artifacts related to the war: dog tags, helmets, uniforms, patches, weapons, and other types of military artifacts that can be purchased. The truth, however, is that nearly all of the items being sold here are modern reproductions, but their presence offers an interesting glimpse into both the past and future of Vietnam.

The Vietnam War lasted over a decade but took place within a much larger history of warfare in Vietnam that both preceded and followed it. By the time that the American military left in the early 1970s, Vietnam faced an extremely long road to social and economic recovery. Nearly everything that was left behind by the Americans and their allies was quickly scrapped or repurposed as part of this recovery effort.

Then, in 1995, the United States government normalized relations with Vietnam, and, for the first time since the war ended, Americans were welcomed back to the country as tourists. The first waves of American visitors included those interested in the history of the war and authentic war relics were quickly bought up.

The Vietnamese, being well versed in the finer points of capitalism, quickly realized that visitors were interested in taking home their own relic souvenirs. The result is Dan Sinh and other markets like it, that sold items related to the war. During my visit, I watched a young Vietnamese man in one of the stalls take a cheap reproduction of an American Army helmet and very carefully paint a large white “MP” on both sides, mimicking those worn by military policemen during the war.

My time in Saigon went by in a colorful blur. I visited many of the major historic sites and museums, and I met some wonderful people who shared their personal stories with me. The city is in the midst of an exciting chapter of growth and prosperity, but the lasting effects of the Vietnam War, while slowly fading with time, can still be seen and felt in the city — if you know where to look.

Coming Soon: a visit to the Cu Chi Tunnels

By Museum Director, Greg Waters 

In February 2020, Museum Director Greg Waters spent just over two weeks traveling throughout the southern half of Vietnam. The goal of the trip was to gain a better understanding of how the Vietnamese remember and memorialize what they call the American War. Greg visited numerous museums and memorials as well as locations where important events occurred during the war.

Greg planned to continue traveling north to Hanoi, the capital of Vietnam, but the trip was interrupted by the COVID-19 pandemic. He returned home safely, with plans to get back to Hanoi as soon as possible, when the time is right.

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Chapter 1: Ho Chi Minh City

My flight left JFK International Airport at 12:20 a.m., and 16 hours later I landed in Taiwan for a two-hour layover. I was back on a plane for a four-hour flight to my final destination, Tan Son Nhat International Airport.. After nearly 23 hours in transit I stumbled out of the airport into the sticky air and blinding sunshine of Southeast Asia. A critical lack of sleep and the strange, mind-warping side effects of air travel certainly left me feeling like a stranger in a very strange land.

The names of places — just like the names of people — tell stories. This is certainly true of Ho Chi Minh City, the largest city in Vietnam. Prior to 1976 this place was called Saigon. Following the withdrawal of American troops and the end of the war, the city was renamed Ho Chi Minh City in honor of the communist revolutionary and North Vietnamese leader.

Saigon, however, is a name that refuses to disappear. You can find entire markets dedicated to selling T-shirts and other souvenirs emblazoned with the name. Locals use both names of the city interchangeably, and older residents, especially those who lived during the war, refer to their home as Saigon. Even the airport code of the city’s international airport, SGN, is an echo of its former name.

The first thing you notice upon arriving in Saigon are the scooters. It is estimated that there are over 8 million of them. This number is remarkable when you consider that the population of the entire metropolis is approximately 12 million people. The scooters are everywhere, zooming around the city in vast herds of their fellow travelers. Each of them is equipped with a horn that they use constantly as an improvised form of echolocation. By honking repeatedly, they let everyone else around them know where they are, and all drivers adjust accordingly. The result is an incredible cacophony of high-pitched scooter engines and endless honking.

The other thing you quickly realize is that traffic laws, while most certainly formally written down somewhere, are completely ignored by virtually everyone. This may seem like a recipe for disaster, but somehow, someway, it works.

A pecking order is established in the streets and roundabouts, and a strange kinetic dance results. Size is clearly the biggest advantage — pedestrians get out of the way of scooters, scooters get out of the way of cars, and cars get out of the way of trucks. Forasmuch as vehicular chaos that I witnessed in the streets of Saigon, I saw no accidents of any kind. The locals assured me that they certainly do happen but at a much lower rate than one might expect. Crossing the street at first felt like certain suicide, but I quickly learned how to navigate by mimicking the locals. Step off the sidewalk boldly with clear intention, walk at a normal pace without any sudden movements, and be amazed as the oncoming tidal wave of scooters bends around you as you make your way across the street, feeling like Moses parting the Red Sea. Exhilarating. Terrifying. I highly recommend it.

I forced myself to stay awake for the rest of the day in order to adjust to the local time zone. Even the clock reminded me how far away from home I was – noon in Saigon meant it was midnight in New Jersey. It was just my first day in country, and I had already gained a new level of empathy for the men and women who served here during the war. It was a strange adjustment for me to make as a visitor, and I can’t imagine what it was like to arrive here for a yearlong tour of duty. I fell asleep to the sounds of traffic and city life in the streets below, thankful that I could be visiting for a few weeks as a tourist and not as a soldier during wartime.

Next Chapter: Searching for the war in modern Saigon