In 'Nam, with memories of pop, Uncle Ho
http://www.thereporter.com/entertainment/ci_14371809
By Richard Bammer
02/10/2010
From the outset, I knew my two-week trip to Southeast Asia was going
to be different from other recent vacations. First of all, I
experienced my first full-body scan at San Francisco International
Airport security. And I looked forward to touching down in Hanoi,
Vietnam, driving to scenic Halong Bay, then touring Ho Chi Minh City
before venturing to Angkor Wat, Cambodia, home of the world's largest
religious monument, and Bangkok, Thailand.
I thought, at long last, I was going to Saigon, Ho Chi Minh City's
other name before the fall of South Vietnam in 1975 to North
Vietnamese and Viet Cong forces. I had always wanted to see the
country where my father, Wyndham, then a major in the Army, had
served from 1956 to '57, as part of the first wave of 800 U.S.
military advisers to the South Vietnamese armed forces.
Before he died in May 2001, he had always spoken well of South
Vietnam and its people. From what I gathered, based on a few objects
I was carrying in my vest pocket, he had forged friendly
relationships with those Vietnamese he came in contact with.
Somehow I had ended up with a copy of the New Testament, in English
and Vietnamese, that a Vietnamese friend had given him, inscribing it
to "My good friend, W.H. Bammer." I was a little surprised to see it,
since my father rarely, if ever, mentioned the Bible -- or anything
much about Christianity or Judaism -- while I was growing up all over
the world.
In one vest pocket, I carried two things I found inside the New
Testament: a photo of him in his khaki shorts uniform (summer Army
officer clothing was different back then), his picture part of a
handmade Lunar New Year (Tet) gift card, handpainted with images of
roses in a basket and glitter applied as outlines. The inscription
read, "A beautiful photo. This is Mr. Bammer's photo when he has
removed (the writer's word) to a new house. Mytho, September 17th,
1956." Mytho, I learned from another tour guide, Lam Phi Ho, was
about 70 miles west of Saigon. The other item was a handwritten
invitation from "The Provincial Committee of the Anti-Communist
Front," to attend a theater presentation at 8 p.m. Aug. 9, 1956, as a
guest of the province chief and commander of the Mytho sector.
So I was glad to know that my father was doing things from time to
time other than training South Vietnamese troops to fight Viet Cong.
I clearly recall him saying that, when he returned stateside in 1957,
he was debriefed by his superior officers, including, I imagine, some
CIA personnel. His advice: America should not get involved in
Vietnam's civil war, that there was no way we could win in the
conventional sense.
It was conflict that escalated to tragic proportions on both sides,
galvanized anti-war sentiments worldwide in the late 1960s and
resulted in the deaths of hundreds of thousands of people. "For no
reason," said Pham Quang Vinh, my guide in the Hanoi area.
Thirty-five years since the fall of South Vietnam, I cannot help but
think he is right. Vietnam, which recently opened up its lucrative
markets to Western and other Asian nations, is communist in name
only, he said, looking at the famous "house-on-stilts" in Hanoi's
Presidential Palace area, where "Uncle Ho," a term of endearment the
Vietnamese use for the famed military and political leader, lived
from 1958 until his death in 1969.
The relatively modest wood-frame house was a target that U.S. fighter
pilots, repeatedly braving withering anti-aircraft fire and SAM
missiles, missed time and time again on their bombing runs over
then-North Vietnam's capital city.
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Reach Reporter staff writer Richard Bammer at [email protected].
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