I have been in Vietnam the last two weeks: Ho Chi Minh, Ke Ga Bay, Nha Trang, Hue and now, Hoi An. No one has mentioned the war, but, while eating local Cao Lau Noodles outdoors at a small restaurant in Hoi An, my guide, Tran Nhieu, says, "Please tell me what you remember about the American War." (That's what the Vietnamese call the war).
What do I tell him? That I can still see images of Vietnamese villages being bombed by our helicopters? That I see mothers shielding their children screaming as they run from their huts, clothes aflame? That I see American soldiers returning home wounded for life? I answer, "I was against the war. I didn't think we should be there."
"Do you know why Americans could never win the war?" he asks.
I shake my head.
"Because the American soldiers did not want to be here. How can you win if you did not want to be here? They only wanted to go home. We live here. We aren't going anyplace." He asks again, "So tell me what you remember because you are older than me. I was only two."
Nhieu is not being confrontational. He is simply curious. I answer, "I was living in Paris. It was different there."
I was surprised he brought up the war because what I learned here was that the Vietnamese long ago moved on. They speak fondly of President Bill Clinton's visit to Ho Chi Minh City in 2000 -- the little hole-in-the-wall where he ate noodles has now become famous. And they talk about Hillary Clinton's visit a few weeks ago. But up until now, I have only been asked two questions. The first is, "Where are you from?" When I say American, not one person in this land of friendly, smiling and gentle people resent me for being from the U.S.A. Yesterday, when I said American, one person said to me "Totally awesome." The other question they ask is, "Is this your first time in Vietnam?" They are so proud of the progress they've made, they want to know if I notice the difference. Every chance I get, I say hello in Vietnamese: Xin chao. Then I'll be asked, "Who teach you Vietnamese? How you learn?"
Nhieu and I finish dinner and walk along the cobblestone streets past centuries-old wooden houses, a blend of Vietnamese, Japanese and Chinese styles. A teenage boy tries to recruit me to pay about fifty cents to don a mask and try to break a clay pot, a little like breaking a pinata blindfolded. I politely decline. We stroll along the small streets with the many tailor shops offering to make a dress or suit in a day, past shoe stores and shops selling colorful paper lanterns in all colors and sizes. I ask Nhieu what he believes. "Life is temporary, death is eternal," he says. We cross a bridge on which hundreds of lanterns are lit up like balloons in the sky. It is not the past that I will remember when I return home -- it is the present.
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What makes anyone thing Iraq will not be 1000 x's worse, to say nothing of Afghanistan.
Our last war of any legitimacy was WWII. Since then, it's been about empire building. We are doomed to failure as we don't accept failure.
of American ignorance of the effects of our actions on the VN people and American interests
Iso agree with you and I thank you for posting that.