Cu Chi
My dad was an Army Ranger in the Vietnam War, bravely serving his country during an unpopular war that, as an 18 year old kid, meant not enrolling for another semester in college, not getting to play for the minor league baseball team that drafted him, and definitely not getting to brag to girls about his time in Vietnam when he got back. Back then, it was gauche.
But he did a very patriotic thing when he was called upon to serve his country and for his bravery and leadership earned a Silver Star and a Bronze Star, among many other military awards. While I couldn't be prouder of my dad for his willingness to sacrifice his life for his country, he's always maintained that there are no winners in war. I've seen in my dad and other veterans the long-lasting after effects of going to war and they're awful - from physical disabilities like losing a limb to an IED to the many types of mental disabilities like PTSD and depression. And those are the just the ones who lived to tell about it.
If there's any chance that my dad, sitting in foxhole in a triple canopy jungle 47 years ago could have looked into a crystal ball to see his daughter with an M-16, in the same Vietnamese jungle, I think he would have given up right then and figured there was absolutely no hope for the future. But the circumstances are a little bit different now and the reason I was able to do that was precisely because of peace.
As a day trip from Saigon, I took a visit to a small town called Cu Chi, just about an hour west of the city. Cu Chi was the site of an enormous network of underground network of tunnels occupied by the Vietcong during the Vietnam War, where North Vietnamese soldiers would live by day and would come out at night to fight. Now, if the image that comes to mind when you think of the word "tunnel" is a luxurious and spacious wine cave in Napa Valley, you'd be pretty disappointed to see these tunnels. I'm 5'6" and on my hands and knees, my back would often hit the top of the tunnel. There was no light; it was pitch black. And there was very little ventilation. It was hot and incredibly humid. And people LIVED in there, cooked in there, and slept in there, sometimes for weeks at a time when the fighting was at its worst. A cross section of the Cu Chi tunnels looks a lot like an ant farm.
I got the chance to crawl through one of the tunnels and I was drenched with sweat by the time I came out the other side. I only made it ten meters before I started to get a big anxious. It was so hot and humid and if you have the slightest bit of claustrophobia, forget about it. One of the most interesting features about visiting Cu Chi now as a tourist is that they have about a dozen different types of firearms used by the Americans, the Vietcong, and other nations that you can have the opportunity to shoot. My dad carried both the M-16 rifle and also the M-60 machine gun, so of course I had to try both. You pay per bullet in Cu Chi, so while I was able to get a few snaps shooting the M-16, the ammo went way too fast in the machine gun! My dad has always complained about the accuracy of the M-16, so I'm going to use that as my excuse for not hitting a single target. That and also the barrel of the guns were tied down.
It was a little crazy being in the same country shooting the same weapon as my dad, 47 years after he was there. It also felt a little uncomfortable being there as an American surrounded by Vietnamese in a place where there was so much tragedy just a few generations ago. I had a conversation with a young Vietnamese person and asked about the sentiment toward Americans, British, and Australians who fought against them on their own land and I was somewhat surprised to hear that most Vietnamese, especially the younger generations, don't harbor a lot of resentment toward the West, and don't mind them coming to see some of the historical sights where the fighting took place. I think it's telling that in just a few generations, wounds can be healed and sentiment can change and there can be peace and camaraderie in a place with such a malevolent past.
“It is not enough to win a war; it is more important to organize the peace.”
