Cold War Burning

Good morning from Littleton, Colorado.

As the front jacket to my book reflects, this is “A Vietnam War era story set against today’s political twist written as adventure fiction except to those knowing its veracity.” I recently signed a contract with my publisher. The book is currently in the pre-production phase and will be available in soft-back copies. I might miss my deadline of Christmas, 2009, but stay tuned.

The following snippets of information were in my daily blog, but at times seen only between-the-lines.

Why would I want to go back? … I had no choice, I had to go … to authenticate my fictional portrayal of Vietnam … revisit places I was assigned, … locate people I worked with during the war. … to a place where my sweat, tears, and energy were spilt to a forfeited cause … but was I ready for what I was about to see an experience.

We were on final approach to Tan Son Nhut, and I’m talking to the person across the aisle. He said he was coming back home for the first time since he escaped with the Boat People exodus. … Looking out the window to my left, I’m shocked for I see one, then another and another; old abandoned Quonset huts that thirty years ago securely housed American military aircraft. Weed infested shells of huts were barely standing today, with a rusted jet fighter under one.

The people working at the hotel were so helpful and interested in me, especially after I told them I was a veteran of the Vietnam War. They corrected me, and told me it was the “American War.” … Early next morning, I introduced myself to a Baptist missionary waiting not to patiently in the hotel lobby. … The man talked of the Hmong human rights violations they were there to examine. He said they had been on the “edge”  of getting into trouble with the officials before, but still planned to do their current investigation.

When I thought the sight of blood spilled on the ground was just a bad memory, it was brought back to reality as we slowed our progress. An overturned motorbike loaded with building logs had been hit on the road. Next to the bike was a large pool of blood, and it was the brilliant red color that nothing else compares.

I was overwhelmed with the expertly maintained Dalat Palace Golf Course. … The extra soft “bentgrass” used on all greens made for active green putting with little grain, according to my caddy, as he was reading the greens for me. … We saw natural beauty mixed with a human touch. … We finished at a “minority” section of the city. An older man spoke of his background in the medical field. He practiced at an American hospital in Nha Trang during the war. When the communist took over in 1975, he was not allowed to practice his trade. In addition to his native tongue, he spoke fluent English, French, and the Khmer language. His story reminded me of my hairstylist back home in Denver. As a young girl, she and a younger brother escaped with the Boat People exodus. She talked of families working for the Americans who were “blackballed” from working under the communist regime. It became a desperate situation we Americans left our friends when departing Vietnam.

Well, the ride down the other side of Dalat, on QL#27, offered me views that almost gave me a bad case of lasting PTSD. … I think I survived more close calls on that trip than the entire year I spent during the war.

The lady running the operation was unhappy about her country, and she wanted me to know. She was particularly angry with the folks living up north. “Be careful, for they treat all foreigners badly, and they treat us down here in the south like we are foreigners.” That was the nice part of her rhetoric.

It was miserably hot in Church, but again the music was beautiful. I was sitting on the right hand side when an older man came and sat down next to me. He tapped me on the shoulder, reached over to shake hands, smiled and spoke in French. I said, “I’m sorry, I can only speak English.”  He smiled and turned to pray. Whether friend or foe during the war, today his handshake told me all was okay.

I’m taking notes and pictures, (on the Nha Trang Beach,) when this young mother and her small son came walking towards me. The boy gave me a devilish look, then ran over with his hands held high. He wanted to give me a High Five. I obliged. We laughed together, and then he ran back to his smiling mom.

Only when opening the veranda doors to my third floor room, did I see the sight of Quang Ngai City for the first time. The sun was just rising over the South China Sea coastline to my east. Damn, there it was in front of me, a shadowy place so much in my thoughts lately. A place that only existed in my fading memory was facing me. It was real. I had to sit down quickly, as I broke down emotionally, tears flowing on the chipped concrete finished railing. I was all by myself. Hell, who would be up at this ungodly hour of 0500 hours, anyways, and who would care about this old slobbering no-name American.

Finally, after riding literally to the end-of-the-road, we came upon a graveyard. Workmen were in the area, and yes, the hill ahead was where an American military force had once been encamped. It was called Hill 4-11. … Growth of thirty foot trees, bushes and vegetation was everywhere, so unlike the war, when defoliants had reduced the hilltop to a barren landscape for hundreds of meters in all directions. We later visited LZ Snoopy, and I saw much the same, a graveyard and thirty foot trees and vegetation everywhere.

I noticed a bus load of Americans, probably a few returning veterans who had made a stop at the My Tra hotel before the usual travel destination to the My Lai Massacre site. I ran into a few of these “canned” tours, but for this one, I was going to leave a special treat. As they were getting ready to board, I stepped out onto the hotel entrance, and gave them a sharp military (grunt style) salute. The entire busload turned and with mouths wide open gave me a look, like, wow, could he be one of those guys who stayed behind? I guess I looked pretty shabby in my grungy sandals and shorts, and a really-really grungy looking baseball cap with the following insignia, “MAVC-Quang Ngai-70-71.” I would wear that cap later on my trip, again with pride, as I toured Hanoi during their Reunification Day celebration.

I knew I was close, for across the river was Buddha Mountain. I could almost sense my presence as we got off the road. … I walked up and down the rivers edge. Nothing much had been done around this section of the river. I became conscious of the ground, and had walked a bit too far out into a heavy grassy area. I started to get that itchy feeling in my feet. I knew the Regional Forces had planted many landmines and booby traps around the outpost for our protection. Damn, wouldn’t that get front-page news back home, if a returning veteran had stepped on one of his own landmines? I proceeded to quickly retrace my steps.

Finally back on the main road, I saw my guide talking to some people down the road. … One of the women he was talking to was born here during the time I was at Tu Binh. … She gave me such a funny smile, and must have thought that was sort of interesting. She came over and wrapped her arm around my arm. I told my guide to tell her that, “Yes, we were here together during a dangerous time.”

We headed east towards what I recalled as the serene fishing village of Co Luy. I recalled the beautiful sandy beach and the open market surrounded by nicely kept homes and businesses. I could not wait to see how it looked today. What a huge disappointment. … the quiet village packed away in my memory was gone. Today, the village was a disconnected mass of narrow dirt roads, a tiny local market with buildings crammed up next to the waters edge. There was nothing left here for me. “Let’s move on, I told my guide.”

I was about to get a lesson in cover-ups. … as I looked for the man I met earlier. … He led me out to a place I knew well, … near my old nemesis. … A group of four locals would fill me in on the ongoing struggle. One of the group spoke very good English. He said they call themselves by the term of, Community Organizers, … and said groups like his were everywhere in the southern part of the country.

I wanted to take them back to the war days. I was given an earful of what happened in this area when America up and walked away. … Many people in the south of Vietnam went back to their homes and waited after the 1975 takeover by North Vietnam. Trade commerce came to a squelching stand-still. Everything shut down, so, locals were forced in bartering amongst themselves for food and essentials during the initial days and weeks following the fall of the South Vietnamese government. It was a very bad time as communist forces slowly took control of the province, village by village, and hamlet by hamlet.

One day, everyone was alerted to report to the village center for documentation purposes. It was during that time that many of the individuals working for Americans or the South Vietnamese military were immediately rounded up and sent off to Reeducation Camps. Many never returned to their homes or families, according to the storyteller, and what happened in many of the camps is still waiting to be told by those who survived. … In my research, I have read of a few Vietnamese authors, a Mr. Nguyen Van Canh who wrote the book, “Prisoner of the Word,” and Mr. Tran Tri Vu who wrote the book, “Lost Years,” of his 1632 days in a deadly reeducation camp. “You did not hear of those events, Dai Uy Mudd?”  Another countered, “Sir, we are still fighting for the freedom you and thousands of Americans fought and died for, and now, the fight is here,” as he pointed to his heart and head.

I asked if any Americans stayed behind after the war, and one replied with a smile, “Well, yes, Dai Uy. Some are living right here.” … “They want to be left alone,” another piped up. “How can I meet them?” I asked. “We will not take you,” came their stern warning.

What the hell do I do with this information?

Upon leaving the My Lai Massacre site, I stopped to write my thoughts on a visitor pamphlet. I noticed a man from Cuba had been there last, and he wrote a scathing attack on USA imperialist atrocities committed around the world, … I was not about to leave that comment unmatched, as I sat down and tapped out a written story of the hideous legacy and stain that communism has left and continues to leave in a few countries, Vietnam and Cuba in particular. I surmised if the curators were going to tear out my page, they would have to remove his noxious commentary, his was on the flip side of the page. I felt good leaving my note, but sadness overwhelmed me of what happened here, March 16, 1968. It is part of our history, and should not be forgotten.

I was looking forward to revisiting Danang, for I had heard about the infrastructure changes from my dental assistant here in Littleton. He told me he was born in Quang Ngai but lived many years in Danang. He told me how entire sections of Danang were leveled for rebuilding and people were relocated here and there. These changes were in once heavily populated areas. During a family gathering at my home, I mentioned this example as one type of Communist restructuring. A Boulder, Colorado, guest at my home piped up and said, “Oh, that’s very normal, that’s what we call urban renewal here in America.”  I replied, “Yeah, Obama style.” … I saw Danang just as described by my dental assistant. … My guide in Danang wanted to know how we Americans came up with the name of “China Beach? ” “This is not China, Sir,” he said back to me.

I was arriving into Hanoi during their Reunification and Labor Day holidays. I wanted a sense to the feelings towards this veteran of the war, and to confirm or dispel the possible myths folks from the south have of their northern brothers. Hanoi surely is in another country than what I experienced from Saigon to Danang. They were not a match to the utter friendliness of their southern comrades. I never feared for myself down south, but for the first time, I stayed inside my hotel, the Hanoi Paradise Hotel, during the evening hours. I thanked Mr. Nguyen Sy Duan, director of the hotel, for the courtesy and security forwarded to me by his employees. … During the day I ventured out on walking tours. The most memorable was my tour of the Hanoi Hilton. … I read where John McCain paid a visit to Hanoi and the prison only a few weeks earlier. To me, the prison museum was much the same as other war museums I saw down south, all one sided, with no mention of any wrong-doing by communism.

On their Reunification Day celebration, I wore my grungy baseball cap with pride. MACV-Quang Ngai-70/71.

My guide to Hanoi was the most articulate, interesting and politically savvy person I met in Vietnam. He told me in no uncertain terms that he loved his country and believed strongly in his government. I told him he was “dead wrong,” on the second part of that statement. I told him that I saw parts of Vietnam coming-to-be, what Americans fought and died for so many years ago, and that was freedom from communism. We have agreed to continue the debate via email, and I hope to carry on with our dialogue.

To my new Vietnamese friends, many of you have been sharing emails with me since my visit. I welcome your continued comments and interest in my writing project. I am honored to know you. All of you were so caring and helpful to this old guy who at times was a bit crusty when questioning your beliefs and replies to my inquiries. From drivers of taxi cabs, to bus and motorbikes, to rickshaw and tour guides, to Internet Cafe managers, to restaurateurs and hotel operators. From folks I met on the streets, you all are a credit to your country. I say patriotic, because I was impressed beyond belief, at the love you dedicated people have for your country, a country that I saw slowly but surely coming of age in the economic world of commerce and trade. Many of you spoke openly and candidly of your love and passion and what you wanted to see as a future for yourself and your children.

To the governing communist … or socialist … or whatever you call yourself these days, you can be proud of the citizens such as the ones I talked with on my travels. As an old adversary of yours, let me offer a bit of advice. After almost two generations have past since the end of the war, I saw a country yet divided. If the people I met are typical, you Party folks need to get the hell out of the way so Vietnam can be united and brought into the 21st century. I predict the people will accomplish this feat in a peaceful manner, but do it, they will.

When the final day arrived for me to head home, I was ready. My final blog dispatch read: ” … Time to didi mau, I’m coming home. …” 

Within the next few months, I’ll be inserting into this blog the non-fiction chapter of my book pertaining to my research trip. This is where the fictional story will be further substantiated with “The Rest of the Story.” Stay tuned. You do not want to miss this update.

READER ALERT: On May 24th, I made a few additions/changes back through the first blog entry. Darrell

Good evening from Littleton, Colorado.

Just a note to let you all know I survived the longest day of my life, and made it back to the confines of my home, here in Littleton. Yesterday, May 2nd, I left Hanoi on Air Vietnam at 5:30 p.m. for a connecting flight on China Airways, leaving Taipei for San Francisco. I arrived just in the nick of time to catch a red-eye Frontier flight back to Denver, arriving May 2nd at 11:50 p.m. Crossing the International Dateline, I stretched out one day sitting on around 16 hours of quite bumpy flights.

I have my experiences to now support my fictional writing of Vietnam as it was during the war, and what it has become thirty nine years later.

I hope you readers were able to get a hint through my words as to the sights, the sounds and smells of today’s Vietnam.

In summary, I saw the resilient people of Vietnam as the most caring and helpful and nicest people I have encountered anywhere in the world. It is only their government that is holding them back, but I see that slowly changing as well. I see communism quietly being swept out into the streets and dumped in garbage cans, crumbling as it did in Eastern Europe. I see a Vietnam someday in the future becoming what America always wanted for its Vietnamese friends, and that was freedom from communism.

I will be posting pictures once I give this old body a needed rest.

Chao, tam biet bay gio … Good bye for now.

Darrell

This will be my final dispatch from Vietnam. Time to didi mau, I’m coming home Nancy…

Hanoi celebrates another holiday on May 1st, International Labor Day. Vietnam is also into spacing holidays into really long weekends. I’ll be holding off on my Hanoi city tour until Saturday, when more sights open up for visitors. I know I’m cutting things sort of tight, as my plane leaves at 5:45 p.m. but it will all work out. So far, I have had so many close calls, catching my China Airways flight will be the least of my worries, unless another typhoon shows up. Um, looks as if the swine flu will have us passing through temperature checks at the airports. So, barring a Vietnamese swine epidemic, I should not need to walk home.

I passed up the evening event at the Hoan Kiem Lake area, if, in fact there was a celebration. Now, I saw many programs on local cable with celebrations going on in various cities, so, don’t let me lead you to believe there is no celebrating this reunification day. The Party is not letting anyone forget its righteous struggle against the American’s.

For me, I’m feeling more uneasy walking around Hanoi during the day, let alone at night. Men and women are nearly stopping me on the street, hands on my arms to sell me something, or take me on a motor-bike ride. It has not been with smiles, but only a wish for money. I don’t need another one of those motor-rides for a decade or so. I was warned by two Burma/Myanmar businessmen on the flight over to be cautious of people getting too close to me, as some have the ability to knock a person out, with the slightest of holds. Am I getting paranoid?

Sadly, I have to agree with the Vietnamese from the south. To me, there is a distinct difference from people on the Hanoi streets towards Americans and other visitors as compared to down south. My observation of the people here in Hanoi has generally not been favorable. I have had few if any opportunities to chat with folks in Hanoi, only the one person at the hotel reception desk who made his “American” war comment.

Okay, I finalized my expensive, $89 USD, Hanoi city tour tomorrow by car, May 2nd, from 9-2 p.m.

** An additional note.** I had the most knowledgeable tour guide on my Hanoi city tour, and we had an interesting debate on “America’s War,” as well as Vietnam today. We learned together that we had disagreements, but, much in common. More on that subject in my book chapter. We took a city tour, and a big part was the Ho Chi Minh center. The visitor line going into the mausoleum was very long and jammed. My visit was over a long weekend. No pictures or water could be taken into Ho’s resting place.

The gray building in back of me in this below photo is where Uncle Ho’s body is viewed. The inside of the building is kept cold to preserve the body tissue. My guide told me an elevator takes the body down into a storage refrigerator each night, and only brought up for viewing during the day. Ho Chi Minh wanted to have his body burned and divided into three parts for three sections of the country, but when he died in 1969, leaders moved his body to Russia, and decided to preserve his body as Lenin and Mao are now preserved. Why not the third review be Uncle Ho, and so, Russia was brought in with their expertise in body preservation. Every three years Ho’s body is taken back to Russia for restoration.

The below house on stilts was Uncle Ho’s residence during much of the war with America. He refused to live in the Presidential Palace Building, instead expressing his union with the people by living and eating very simply. He never married, but has family members still living back at his place of birth village.

The below photo is Uncle Ho’s museum on the large government grounds with displays of his life and the war years with France and America. He traveled extensively before coming back to Vietnam to assume the National Communist leadership.

I’ll check-out from the Paradise Hotel before I leave on tour, then catch a ride to the Hanoi airport and wait for the first leg of my flight back to San Francisco. I fly from Hanoi to Taipei on a three hour flight, then an eleven hour polar flight to the beautiful sights of the Golden Gate Bridge. Catching that first sight of the Golden Gate was emotional back 39 years ago, as the pilot dipped his wing for a moment, so we all could see. I knew back then I had survived a year in hell, and made it back to the “World,” land of the “Big PX.” Nathan Matlock, It might sound corny, but my emotions are running similar today.

Let me pass a few tips to those wishing to visit Vietnam, and these tips come in no order of significance. I might have a few more.

(1) Bring along food from home when the local cuisine does not settle with your digestive system. I brought small light weight cans of tuna, salmon, packages of spam, granola bars, dried fruit, raisins, and a Gatorade supplement to mix with water for my electrolytes. Nothing was heavy or bulky but it sure got me through some days when I needed something to settle the old stomach. (2) Bring a bottle or more of a liquid hand sanitizer. (3) Most hotels offered a free breakfast, some with many options. I stayed with the French bread, black coffee, mighty strong joe, with juice and eggs and not much on the eggs. I found the bread fresh and good. (4) Bring lots of unused dollars, especially one dollar bills. A crisp one dollar bill made a great tip and a thank-you smile. Dollars are sometimes more welcome than Dongs. (5) Most all hotels had tourist shops, so all of your transportation and touring needs can be taken care of at the hotels. I found the folks very helpful, from getting stamps and mailing postcards, etc. Ask hotel folks to confirm your Internet bookings to the next hotel, or air transportation flights. They do this all for free, but a one dollar tip sure helps. (6) Liquid refreshment is cheap, bottled water, beer and soda, most around one dollar. (7) Bus transportation is cheap, but man, prepare yourself for a ride of your life. I would bring along a rosary and pray that the driver doesn’t have a death wise. (8) Everyone should take at least one motor-bike and rickshaw ride. The cost is inexpensive, but your heart and nerves might not think so. When walking, you will learn quickly to move by foot with the constant traffic. Only a few streets have green walk signs, and watch out for motor bikes, usually they do not stop. (9) A warning about the beds here, I found “all” of my beds very-very hard. My back has been hurting for days. (10) Visit your local doctor when making preparations, and get vaccinations he/she recommends. I had the first two of a three series Hepatitis A&B, and start a few months in advance. My doctor prescribed a life-saver prescription of Cipro for travelers diarrhea. I also had a daily Malaria prescription plus an antibacterial prescription, just in case.

And last but not least, I hope all of you readers and everyone you know, and everyone they know, include an extra gift under the old 2009 Christmas tree. What would that gift be, you ask? What else but a bestselling novel titled, “Cold War Burning.” If you contact me, I will arrange an autographed copy.

My email address is dsmudd@comcast.net.

I plan to be back on this site with a few pictures of today’s Vietnam inserted into my daily blogs. I hope to use this blog site to complete the research writing of Vietnam. Stay tuned…

Signing off for now, this is muddman, out…

Good Morning from Hanoi…

Most all sight-seeing areas are closed today in remembrance of Vietnam’s Liberation/Reunification Day holiday. The somewhat friendly folks at the reception area tell me there is a celebration tonight at the Hoan Kiem Lake area. It is about a ten minute walk, so, I’ll try to get another experience tonight.

I took a walk around the busy “old quarter” section this morning and saw faces of people not smiling in my direction, rather, they were avoiding any eye-to-eye contact. Much different than in the southern cities. A little boy with his buddies watching, came up and gave me a distinct sexual gesture, as if to signal what a foreigner such as myself might be looking for on this holiday and early morning walk. What a little shithead. I saw a few military “pith” helmets worn by passer-bys, and I thought wearing my faded “MACV-Quang Ngai-70/71″ baseball cap fit in well. In the below photo, Hoan Kiem Lake is ahead on my walk around the old quarter of Hanoi.

I have seen many-many more older faces in Hanoi than down south. What could be the significance of that observation? I had heard that when the Commies took over in the south that many people were killed during the reeducation camps, and many of those that escaped an immediate death penalty were part of the the “Boat-People” exodus.

The above photo is a central square location, and also near the Hoan Kiem Lake. I learned that to cross streets, one needed to step out and walk somehow between the oncoming motor-bike traffic. The flow of traffic seldom stops. If a bigger vehicle was coming down the street, I waited.

This seems to be a good place and time to reflect on this war we called the Vietnam War, where the hotel man downstairs told me he calls it the “American War,” just like down south in Saigon. I think this war really can be understood upon a few simple facts. It is not that difficult folks. Here is a view from a simple old Kansas farm-boy.

(1) The North wanted to unite all of Vietnam. What was wrong with that idea? A “civil war,” another American stated to me as we waited for the late arriving Air Vietnam flight at the Danang airport. He compared the war here in Vietnam similar to America’s Civil War. I had to question his appreciation to the hideous stain communism left in a part of the country we were trying to keep free.

(2) The South was fighting against something they knew nothing or little of, this system called communism. Americans were fighting to keep communism out of the south and many American servicemen did not know much about communism either. I learned my reason for serving in Europe and Vietnam when stationed in Germany, where an Iron Curtain loaded with Soviet armed guards had orders to shoot anyone trying to cross. The Soviets found the people trying to cross were their own citizens. Something was drastically wrong and the people behind the Iron Curtain were speaking, but few in America understood or listened.

(3) America left its Vietnam friends in 1973 for good, with a signed Paris Peace Accord in hand. It was probably hard for many in South Vietnam to fight against other Vietnamese who were only wanting to unite their country. And, they knew the Americans signed this accord and promised protection, right? 1975 arrived, America is nowhere to be found and North Vietnam walked in and took over.

(4) A few reporters stayed behind for what they thought was going to be a pristine time for dispatches to be sent back home, one was my favorite, Peter Arnett. He saw something had changed, as he and others quickly lost open and free access. Communism took over with its iron fist, and what happened from 1975 to the Boat People exodus, well, our freedom loving press in America turned its back and did little to continue the reporting. One can only imagine.

(5) Along comes the Boat People exodus 6-7 years later. America’s free press still refused to wake up on what was happening. Isn’t it time for the Boat People to speak out more than they have? I recommend my readers of this blog to read the Vietnamese author, Colonel Bui Tin’s experiences in his book titled, ”From Enemy to Friend.” As a high up communist officer, once a personal bodyguard to Ho Chi Minh, he fought against the French and much more. His experiences give credence to what happened to our friends as he has been a critic of the regime now in power in his homeland, and has written a number of books on the subject. I have quotes from his above book in my upcoming bestseller. I recommend reading books by Russian author’s Stanislav Lunev, and Romanian author, Lt. General Ion Mihai Pacepa, for a view of communism that has gone mostly unnoticed in America.

(6) Only today, thirty four years later, does it appear a change is slowly occurring towards a somewhat free society in Vietnam, with old communistic thinking possibly quietly fading away and dying. I see commercialism and the tourist trade in full gear, and I saw new construction going on everywhere I traveled. I saw no severe malnutrition, but I saw hideous living and working conditions everywhere.

(7) I saw that the Vietnamese people, four decades later, are quietly gaining the freedom we Americans were fighting and dying for them to get.

Well, if anyone has differing views from this old farm-boy perspective of the war, let me hear about it. I’ll be waiting.

This afternoon, I took a walk down to the Hanoi Hilton, known here as the “Hoa Lo Prison.” On the hike, I walked past many small merchants selling everything from raw cuts of meat in open unsanitary stalls, to live chickens, fish, lots of vegetables and fruit. On the next street were household items, such as cell phones and computer and tv equipment offered for sale. It rained just a little on the walk, enough for me to purchase an umbrella. The umbrella was worth the $3 USD. From my hotel street, I walked for a number of blocks down Hang Ngang Street. I spotted a number of visiting foreigners but nobody up here seems to be in a talkative mood. I could not even get eye contact with the visitors.

Entrance to the Hanoi Hilton is located just a few blocks from the Hoan Kiem Lake.

I walked past the Hoan Kiem Lake, then got lost for an hour trying to locate the “Hanoi Hilton.” But, I finally found it, called the “Hoa Lo Prison Museum,” the Bao tang Nha tu, on Hoa Lo street. Again, I was not surprised at the steep slant put on the museum during the war with America. The prison dates back to the 18th century where the French designed a tortuous history fully reported by museum displays. When North Vietnam took over in the mid 1950s, the history as a place of torture through 1973 seemed to be wiped clean. I bet John McCain had a few smiles when he visited a few weeks ago, for the serene pictures he saw displayed, of fellow American prisoners playing cards, chess, volleyball, shooting billiards, opening packages of supplies from family back home, and just enjoying the company together with fellow prisoners. Talk about a distortion of history. Hanoi Jane would be proud of the display, playing right into her comments on how well American prisoners were treated.

Today, the prison museum is squeezed between the Hanoi Towers and the Melia Hotel. The museum was busy with tourists when I visited. The entrance fee was less than one dollar.

Tonight, I might go and experience Hanoi and its people, as they celebrate their victory against the evil empire of America.

muddman out…

Good evening from Hanoi.

I survived an Air Vietnam flight captained by an Aussie. Man, you cannot get away from those guys. Actually, his voice over the speaker made me feel a bit safer, for the one hour flight from Danang up to Hanoi was a little bumpy, cloudy and rainy all the way.

Okay, first impressions. Hanoi has me somewhat impressed. The city seems really spread out, with a divided four lane highway leading into the city from the airport. And, city planners are really into road signage, big ones and lots of ‘em. One problem with this four lane highway are intersections. Again, intersections are not for the timid driver, only the aggressor survives and gets through. There are no signals. My driver was again the aggressor, and we made it to my hotel in record time, all the while he was taking one cell-phone call after another. The Vietnamese are addicted to their cell phones. Driving out of the airport we had to stop for a moment, a farmer was herding her cattle across the highway. So much for four lane autobahn highways.

In the photo below, this was the street in front of my hotel located in the “old quarter” of Hanoi. The hotel is the Hanoi Paradise Hotel. Store fronts are very narrow, and hardly the width of a room. My hotel was also very narrow, but went up four floors. The hotel has only a few rooms, but they were all large.

I had the hotel pick me up from the airport, cost was $16. It was worth every dollar. The airport is a good 30 km from the city center, and my guide told me the Hanoi planners placed the airport faraway for security reasons. My hotel is no Furama Resort, but I have a computer in my room with free Internet access. The hotel staff has been nice, and the hotel sits on a rather narrow sort of street, called “Hang Chieu Street.”

The above photo is of a very narrow street and food market around the corner from my hotel. The sights and smells coming from this market were unbelievable. I could hardly maneuver down through the street on foot, but motor-bikes found their way amongst the food laid out for sale. Oh, you folks shopping in the nice pretty and clean grocery stores back home, if you could only see how the Vietnamese buy their daily food needs. It was the same down in the southern towns. My photo does not do justice.

Switching gears, what the heck is going on back home? Yes, the hotels of Vietnam have cable, so I can keep up with the news. I bet Bob Dole is shaking his head when hearing another favorite son from our home town of Russell, Kansas, Senator Arlen Specter, has skipped out on the Republican Party. I think I need to get home soon, for the folks I’ve talked to on this research trip, from places such as Switzerland, Canada, Sweden, New Zealand and one Vietnamese from Danang are not real happy that our country appears headed towards socialism.

Enough of opinions and feelings. Saying that, where I’m at physically speaks to the deepest of feelings for many Americans. In the next three days I will try to get an impression of these people from the north of Vietnam. Tomorrow, I plan to observe the Vietnamese celebration of its Reunification with the south. Friday is National Labor Day, so, I’ll try and catch a few more sights missed on my city tour Saturday. I’m gonna try and squeeze in a city tour before my plane leaves on Saturday at 5:45 p.m. Most museums and tourist sights are closed the next two days.

Good evening from China Beach, near Danang.

I’m beginning to think of myself as a “single-digit midget.”

Okay, what does that mean, you ask? It was an old term some of us used when our one year tour-of-duty in Vietnam got to within less than ten days left in-country. We were down to nine days and counting. My three week research trip is counting down to four days left, as of tomorrow, and for some reason I really am anxious to get home. I hear on CNN and BBC of the Swine Flu outbreaks which only adds to my anxiety.

I had a good half-day city tour of Danang this morning, highlighted by a visit to the Cham Museum. I finished with a walk through the downtown market, and what an exciting place, but my suitcase was packed full, no more room for souvenirs, plus my cash was running low. “It’s time to come home,” I hear Nancy telling me. My tour guide today had great comments about Vietnam during the war, and today, but I will add later, once I have more time for writing. The photo below is of my Danang guide in front of the Cham Museum. He even carried my backpack for me.

I spent the afternoon taking in great views of Monkey Mountain, rolling clouds covered the hilltops from time to time. Danny, were there three rounded commo stations on the west edge of the hill? I also noticed a man-made flat-top area with a small tower, sort of in the center of the mountain top. Other than that, the entire mountain is covered in lush green. The Furama is probably a good 8-10 clicks away from the base of the mountain. I got a few good pictures during the day as I was sipping on a cold brew, and the cool sea breeze made for a quite pleasant afternoon. The below photo is of my transportation and driver for the day around Danang. I barely fit in the rickshaw.

Above photo is at the central market square, downtown Danang. You ladies would have loved the shoe display. I saw stores stocked to the ceiling with produce, from Saigon to Danang. My guide was in the mood to reminiscence on how bad the shopping was not long before, where long lines were the way of life. That was the way it was to buy food and everything else from Party controlled stores. His story reminded me of my long-ago trip to Hungary in 1969, where long lines could be seen everywhere.

This is another Deja Vu moment. I’m adding a bit, it is the morning of the 29th. It started raining here in Danang last night and has not stopped. It brought another remembrance of when I was heading home, July, 1971, when a typhoon kept me here in Danang a few extra days. I could not get down to Saigon as no planes were flying. Today, I fly by Air Vietnam to Hanoi, just in time for their Liberation - Reunification Day celebration. That would be so disheartening, to me, to have it rain on their parade.

Okay, my “short-timer’ calendar is down to three days.

More from Hanoi.

Good evening from beautiful Danang.

Danny, in my opinion, the city of Danang has not let us down. What I recall as a city that had possibilities is indeed, finally and slowly, turning into a South China Sea destination. So, for you soothsayers who thought old muddman was gonna report as the old dispatches coming out of the war zone era, such as Gloria Emerson, or Wally Cronkite, or my favorite, Roger Mudd, well, I’m hear to report on the good and the bad and the ugly. What I see here in Danang is on the good side.

To Brian Nguyen, my Dentist assistant back in Littleton, who was born in Quang Ngai, but grew up in Danang, your fair city is indeed going in the right direction, in my opinion. I see where city planners have torn down entire sections of the old city and rebuilt it with wide streets for traffic, followed by sound looking building infrastructure. It is just as you said, Brian. So, to my good friends from Boulder, Colorado way, no, this is not “urban planning - Obama style,” this is communism tossed aside by city planners with a burning to survive.

We stopped at Marble Mountain on the way to China Beach, photo below, and if you are looking for a beautiful piece of sculptured marble, this might be the place. It won’t be cheap, but the one shop my driver stopped at has huge pieces waiting to be shipped to your backyard garden.

You folks who thought this old conservative guy was in the same category as the above mentioned reporters, who so wanted to report on only “one-side” of an issue, well, you need to reload with ammunition because this area has impressed me. As you have read, much of what I have seen so far has been depressing to say the least.

The above photo shows but a hint of the building frenzy going on at China Beach. Now, the Vietnamese do not like that China Beach name, as it brings back a piece of history they do not like. My guide asked me, “Where did you American’s come up with that name, this is not China?”

This morning, I came from the city of Hoi An by car via the beach highway, a divided 4-lane highway almost all the way to the Furama Resort on China Beach. The resort is a little south of the downtown area of Danang. I recall taking a ride out here to the beach during the war, and it was nothing but beautiful beach as far as you could see. Later today, I took a taxi ride to the north edge of town, to the Danang Bay where I recalled a few MACV advisory buildings were located. The streets on the drive were well maintained and wide with 2-3 lanes. The old MACV area I recall looked to be near a huge bridge construction, where a mini Golden Gate is nearing completion. The bridge crosses over to Monkey Mountain, and the advisory area I recalled has been leveled for the new bridge. See below picture.

Danny, the Mountain looks a lot bigger than I recall, but is still in the center of much activity with little building upon the hillsides. It looks much as it did back in our time. I was sitting out on the Furama Resort beach tonight, and to my left, in below picture, I could see the mountain very clear. I was thinking what might have been your thoughts, if you were here sipping on a beer and listening to the pounding surf.

Well, this old Army grunt toasted, first a beer LaRue, and a second beer, a Tiger beer to you and your courageous U.S. Marines who made this home back in 1965. The beaches today are busy, and built up from Hoi An to Danang, I only hope they do not over-build.

I had to take this picture of Monkey Mountain as clouds were rolling over on a beautiful afternoon. My photo does not do justice to what I saw from the Furama Resort.

Tomorrow I take a city tour on a rickshaw … cycle bicycle, then plan to come back and prepare for my final stop, Hanoi. I am looking forward to observing how the folks up north compare to the great people here.

Well, here at the Furama, where rooms are a bit steep, so also are the beer prices and almost everything else, including Internet time. It is too Americanized, and most prices on the menu are in USDs, not VNDs. All other hotels had free Internet access, but not here. Um, maybe they are a tad to capitalized, just as my fictional book describes. How could I be so right-on?

A picture of a section of the interior to the Furama Resort. a beautiful resort in a beautiful spot.

Another picture at the Furama, this one looking out through the main entry to the very large and private beach area. The surf coming in had waves up to around 5-7 meters, a hotel employee made that observation. I have no idea how that relates to California or Hawaiian surfing.

Danny, if you ever make it back here, I would sure recommend staying at one of the resort hotels on China Beach. Most have a grand view of Monkey Mountain, and Marble Mountain to the south. The old chopper airfield is still in plain view from the Furama. I took a picture of the rounded hangers and airfield sitting next to the beach. The airfield has not yet been replaced, but the Monkey Mountain area, I understand is controlled by the Vietnamese military and thus the reason not much building shows on the south side where my pictures were taken from a distance.

The below photo was directly south of the Furama and across the main road to Hoi An. You can see the American landing strip if you look at the break in the trees. You can barely see old hangers off to the left and to the rear of the trees in the foreground.

Okay, time to check-out for tonight.

Another good day near the South China beaches of Cau Dai.

This is my third Sunday in Vietnam. The Indochine Hotel gave me good directions and times for Masses to the nearby Catholic Church. They called a taxi for me. I had a choice of a 5:30 or 9:00 a.m., then a noon and last Mass at 4:00 p.m. I decided to get a good start and hit the early Mass. I noticed something different today in Church, all the men were on the right side, with the fans and somewhat cool air, and all the ladies were on the left side of church swatting their paper hand-fans. Another change, the congregation sang, so it was not near as pleasant a tune to the ear, as I listened to down in Saigon and Nha Trang. The interior looks of the Churches I have seen here are the same as Catholic Churches back home, stations of the cross posted along the sides of the church, and an altar very basic to ours. What organization can you think of in the world that is so common wherever you travel? The below photo is the view from my hotel window looking east towards the South China Sea.

The Indochine Hotel provides a free shuttle downtown, and downtown Hoi An is made for tourist shoppers with many unique gifts and quite old structures to tour. The hotel also provides free pedal bikes, so I might try a ride over to the beaches tonight, once it cools down. On my trip downtown, I visited the Yaly shops, and found better stitching art prices than Dalat. Nguyen Duy Hieu Street is loaded with shops, and some really interesting souvenirs, but folks, my suitcase is already jam packed. I visited a number of sites, the Trieu Chau Assembly Hall, the Museum of History & Culture, the Phuc Kien Chinese Hall, and a Cantonese Assembly Hall. A few sights asked for an entrance fee, the Quang Thang and the Tan Ky Old House. This first photo is a building in downtown Hoi An, and looked really old, so I took a picture. The old building is today used for a restaurant. The second photo is one of the tourist sites, but I forget which one, oops.

Something else finally caught up with me today, a good case of traveler’s …, yeah you guessed it. I had two earlier bouts, but one Cipro pill did the trick along with my steady daily diet of Imodium. This third bout seems to be hanging in there, more determined, for lack of a better explanation, but by the grace of God, I made it back here to the hotel. I stopped at a restaurant on the way, and the ladies were very understanding when asking to use their toilet. I offered to pay to use the tiny and very unique toilet, but they just smiled. I’m playing a wait-and-see game right now. I only wanted to see the Cau Dai beaches tonight, hopefully, I can. The below photo is a picture outside my hotel, where I stayed for the remainder of the day.

Tomorrow, I head to the Furama Resort on China Beach in Danang. I visited Danang on a number of occasions during the war, and I remember where the MACV advisory buildings were located. I can bet all has changed, hopefully for the better. Back in the war, we went on scrounging missions to Danang, trading enemy captured items, such as weapons and such to U.S. Marines, and other Americans stationed there. These folks had strings to a supply chain we did not have down in little out-of-the-way Quang Ngai. Boy, the supply folks would trade for almost anything to get their hands on something once belonging to the enemy. Example. I traded a chi-com pistol for a brand new 5 K generator. We were always trading minor stuff for food and special ammunition the Vietnamese had a difficult time getting through their own supply channel.

I have an old Hays, Kansas, SJMA, classmate by the name of, Danny Baca, who was privileged to have spent a year with Uncle Sam and the U.S. Marine jarheads in and around Danang. Danny, I hope to get some good pictures for you.

Okay, I’ll check out for now. Wish me luck in my battle against the bug. Someone tell Nancy I will survive with this latest system bout.

Over and out.

GOOD MORNING VIETNAMMMMMM……………

Okay, who remembers that daily dispatch and the later movie?

I’m throwing another thought out today, and this is due to my new friend from Vietnam, a young man just beginning his working life, Mr. Van Giap, due again to his recommendation.

Yes, I agree, Vietnam has changed, but is it for the better? My opinion is that communism has taken Vietnam down a pitiful infrastructure road. The transportation system around Saigon has left the air so polluted the people cannot breath? I have talked to many local folks and those visiting, and nobody disagrees on this subject. Apparently, few if any emission standards are enforced, for I have seen one vehicle after another, small and large, all belching out smoke screens. The building of an ”urban sprawl,” along most all the roads I traveled has a nation breathing in clouds of pollution during the day and worse at night when the big vehicles are on the road. There is need for “change” and much more work to be done, and it seems from talking to others that the Party is slowly loosening its arms around one area of control, and it is private ownership. My Swedish friends thought that included “land” to use as intended, even for foreigners, however, the Party still owns the land. Maybe communism will fall here in Vietnam the way it fell in Europe and Asia, upon its own disastrous ways.

For my fictional novel, which takes place in 2004 and 2005, I do not see much change to how my manuscript depicts Vietnam today. If anything, Vietnam is worse than I even imagined. The scene of the old man a few days ago at the area I was stationed during the war leads me to believe much more is happening behind the scenes than this old tourist dare believe. The Baptist couple down in Saigon working with the Hmong tribes in the Highlands only confirms that point more. The Swedes and the guy from New Zealand said it was not easy working with the Vietnamese officials. Something is going on here under the watchful eyes of Party officials, and I cannot seem to find a way to get to the bottom of it all. Maybe to protect those involved in this political change, I should not stick my nose in further.

Another thought. I have asked a few Vietnamese about sightings of Americans who might have stayed behind after the war. I talked to all my guides and my special guide down here in Quang Ngai, abbreviated “QN,” I should finally explain what the QN stands for, right? Nobody seemed to believe so, but then, how much information has really been passed out by the Party. The friend of the old man at Tu Binh lead me into a group discussion that left more questions than answers. I asked my guide about reported American soldiers that had deserted, and if any of them stayed behind. I specifically asked about the “Salt & Pepper” duo, the Army and Marine guys who were working with the enemy in and around QN. He knew who I was speaking of, but I failed to get a clear answer from him. Something was up. I write of Salt & Pepper in my fictional story, and gave them the benefit of the doubt. I depicted them returning home to America under tight embassy control. Whether that actually happened, it appears maybe not.

And, if I have not explained the word use of  ”Party,” it is the local Communist Party Committee. I see the old red flag flying over the fronts of many buildings, some look to be private homes, and others could be local governing groups. What surprises me is the total lack of activity around any of these party buildings. It is like are all off on vacation, or have left or something. No vehicles, or people. Well, today in Hoi An, I did see an office with a desk and someone sitting behind the desk, so there must be Commie life somewhere. If they get hold of this blog of mine, I might see much more life. I’m waiting… come on, make my day.

Yes, change is needed here in Vietnam. I know “CHANGE” is the buzz word for back home as well, with my President who might not have been elected without that simple word pouring a single thought through many voters veins as they made their selection for the next Commander in Chief. I should not be counted in that voting group for McCain/Palin was my ticket for success.

Folks, you who have never stepped out of the confines of the Continental USA, you really need to do so, to see how good we have it in America. Yeah, we have violence, we have poverty to obesity issues, we have more than our share of problems, but I would dare anyone who has a certain burning against American values, to come to Vietnam and survive in this country for one year. Then come back home and let me hear your complaints. The folks who have traveled extensively to third world countries know what I speak of, but yes, that does not mean we should slacken our will to make America better yet.

Enough of Philosophy, Giap. You got me on a subject I know nothing about.

Today, was the very LAST day of riding in a bus, or on a motor-bike, well, maybe not. I’m taking a private taxi from Hoi An to Danang, and will fly from Danang to Hanoi on Air Vietnam. I just received my air ticket, and was worried in getting a seat, with the big Reunification and Labor Day Holiday coming up while I’m in Hanoi.

This morning, I really did not think I would make it out of Quang Ngai. The tourist office at the My Tra Hotel booked me on a tiny bus without AC, loaded to the hilt with passengers heading north to Danang. I was to be dropped off at a junction on the highway heading to Hoi An, a scenic beach resort on the South China Sea. And the driver did just that, for 100,000 VNDs, or about $6 USDs. Writing this does not give the view I have in my mind, because we have nothing back home that remotely compares to this type of transportation.

I will try and insert pictures to this blog once I return home. I hope the pictures can add to the scene I am trying to describe for my readers. Thanks to my cousin, Richard Polcyn, who hails from Russell, Kansas, for the idea. I can barely get on a computer at this stage, so my pictures will need to wait. I’m keeping my fingers crossed that my old digital camera keeps all 300 pics saved.

I will never get used to this method of transportation. A good friend told me that most third world countries have such road issues. I think WHY? It is sheer craziness. Roads can be built and maintained by the most poverty stricken of countries. QL#1 is worse up here than it was during the war. I know, I rode this stretch from QN to Danang a few times during the war. I have only found one stretch of QL#1, around Nha Trang and Cam Ranh Bay, where the roads were somewhat up to today’s USA standards.

I was looking for the old Americal Division base at Chu Lai on the way north and believe I spotted a couple of yet standing shells of buildings off the highway. The buildings were standing along the sandy hills next to the beach, yet another confirmation to my fictional manuscript.

I was dropped off at the right spot for Hoi An and was immediately surrounded by motor-bikes. Because of my extra large piece of baggage, I needed two bikes, 100,000 VND each to ferry me to Hoi An. That would be upped to 150,000 each once getting into the city and finding out my hotel was further yet. The guys were playing me like an old fiddle, but by this time, after a final crazy bus ride, I just wanted to get to my next hotel. I paid them 300,000 VNDs, or about $17 USDs total, and gave then a crisp one dollar bill as a tip, on top of their padded charge. They knew they got to another old American, but I did not care at this stage. Yes, my wad of crisp and new one dollar bills are the best yet for tipping. The old greenback still means something here.

I’m here in Hoi An for two days to see the sights of this ancient city. I was not here during the war, so my experiences will be fresh and uncut. Below is a photo of the IndoChine Hotel outdoor dining area, next to a water canal inlet.

More later…