Khe Sahn

It's weird to travel somewhere and see destruction caused by your own country, even if it's allegedly in the name of good and freedom. (You know I'm talking to you, Iraq War mongers.)I felt my heart twist many times in Iraq when I'd meet someone killed by American guns or bombs, and I'm not talking about combatants; I'm talking about kids, like the boy who was basically playing peek-a-boo but the American soldier who shot him didn't know that, and the
teenage girl who was fleeing Baghdad with her family when a bomb fell near their car. (The dead girl's younger sister still had a piece of shrapnel in her head and the mother said it was giving her headaches and asked if I could help do anything about that. I asked one of the Army officers about this. I didn't get a real answer. I still feel like I failed that family.)

Now here we are in Vietnam, or "Iraq Episode I" as George Lucas would put it.

What I know of this "conflict" comes from school and books and movies and the few veterans I know -- Jaqui's dad used to talk about the war when we were teenagers but we totally didn't listen, being jerk teenagers; Walt told some tales from his Marine days, but being Walt, the stories meandered just a tad and they were mostly about him and Octave being crazy.

I didn't live through it and in it, like Iraq. (Although I suppose if I were a more savvy toddler I would have kept up with the news a little better in the early 1970s. US Troops left the country behind in 1975 but what did I know? I was probably eating a cookie and watching "The Electric Company.")

So I felt it was very important to see, learn, and listen to war stories while we were here. I think it's the respectful, right, thing to do.

As Jordo wrote, we took a DMZ tour yesterday. There's a lot to discuss from that -- like our guide telling us how three generations of Vietnamese have been affected by the chemicals used during the war, and how even today, people are killed by unexploded mines and grenades -- and I'll get to it later, but for now I want to focus on the final stop: the former American base at Khe Sahn.

Walt was at Khe Sahn. I know this not because he told about his bad ass Marine days at this famous battle, but because I organized all of his photos in a series of albums for him one year. (And let me tell you: If you know Walt, you know there were 100s and there were all over the place.) I've always had a hard time picturing the gentlest person I know -- WJP -- as a Vietnam vet, but there was the photographic evidence. He was playing cards shirtless, showing off his boxer's physique, and posing with friends. And in one picture simply labeled, "Khe Sahn," he had a look of shock and emptiness on his face as he walked through high grass. I have no idea now if I'm making this part up or not, but I imagine or think he had just seen the bodies of his fellow soldiers.

Khe Sahn was a f'ing mess. After months of fighting, there were hundreds of Americans dead, thousands of Vietnamese dead. Even today, POW-MIA folk come back and search the Khe Sahn hills for human remains. Those that they do find usually belong to the Vietnamese.

Now, where the infamous air strip was, nothing will grow. It's empty land. There is a bunker, probably a re-creation, but still oppressive in feel, so hot when you're inside with the low roof of bags above you. There are American ordnances, helicopters, tank parts. They've put a museum there, a small one, with photos from the battle. There is a definite slant to the presentation, as one photo notes how American soldiers are scared and preparing to flee and another superimposes an image of President Johnson over a fighting picture with a caption like, "What is President Johnson thinking now?" (I took photos of all this, but like J said, we're having photo upload issues.)

I sat down at the table out front to look at the guest book. It caught my eye: The latest entry, the page to which it lay opened on the table, was written boldly, in big letters, and signed by Frederic A Eidsness Lt, USN Riverine Forces, Republic of South Vietnam. It was also the longest. It read, "Every American who runs for national office, especially those who seek the office of the presidency, should visit this place to gain a perspective on how we would view an emeny who occupied our nation -- that we would take great care in our foreign policy not to use military force, nor occupy a sovereign nation except after all other options are exhausted and only in self defense."

But most of the writings were from tourists like me, wishes for an end to war or reflections. (I'll record some of them here, but note the names may be incorrect as it's sometimes hard to read other people's writing. I'm leaving in misspellings and grammar errors, too.) "We keep going on" and "Life is fight but war is mistake" and simply "Peace" with a smilely face. Jackie from Bingalong, Australia, wrote, "I pray for the souls of all who lost their lives here and their families. May all find peace."

Some of those who fought here and lived shared their experiences, like Sgt. Glenn E. Prentice said they fought for 77 days, from 15 Dec 67 to 22 April 68 and "We never feared them (the NVA) but we respected them."

Linda Bogert, whoever she is, wrote about what happened after Khe Sahn to the man who may be her husband, father or grandfather on "Peter Bogert served in the Marines and was hear in the 60' and survived to have 2 children and 1 grandchild. Semperfi."

The one that most touched me, was perhaps the simpliest, meticulously documented by someone named Bai Thi Linh Van on September 29, 2008, a Monday at about 10:33 a.m. It said just this:
"4-5-1968
My dad died here!"

While I was looking at the book, three little girls came and stood in front of me, just smiling and giggling. I smiled back, said hello and talked to them a bit but they didn't understand me. Later, I went outside to take a photo of them in front of the museum and the flowers growing there. They were so cute, posing. "Such beautiful girls," I told them, as I and another tourist snapped their image. The girls may not have known much English, but they understood, "beautiful" and giggled some more.

I'm going to send that picture to Walt when we get home, to show him that things can change and life goes on and it can all get better.