American War Crimes
Trip Start
Sep 17, 2007
1
140
272
Trip End
Oct 08, 2008
Ho Chi Minh City,
Vietnam
Sunday, March 23, 2008
The ground floor is very stately, hosting nothing too exciting. In the large lecture room at the back of the palace a bust of Ho Chi Minh was added for good measure, but in the president's reception room the same hideous yellow carpet still makes people cringe. At least it made me cringe.
On the second floor we walked through the Map Room (there was another one in the bunkers underneath the palace as well), which had maps denoting enemies and friends
Independence Palace
. Of course the black squiggles of the Ho Chi Minh trail ran all over South Vietnam. Next was the president's office, a sparsely furnished affair with a stuffed big cat. Some of the most beautiful rooms in the palace were on this floor. Another reception room of the president had a giant decoration of elephant tusks, and the president's chair was raised behind his desk because he wanted to be higher than the other seated persons in the room. The panelling behind him resembled the flag of South Vietnam. The official reception room, we were told by our guide (who was free!), was the most beautiful room in the palace. And it was. And that is really all I can say since describing it would take ages. The third floor was the president's residential area, including a private chapel (they were Catholic...apparently all four of them), animal skull gifts from visitors, bedrooms, and a small garden complete with pond (on the third floor, remember!). Also on this floor were the cinema and the gambling room. The latter was a totally modern concoction of different tables for different games. Pretty spiffy. There was even a bar in the back.
Situated on top of the palace was a dance hall, but it wasn't so big. The most exciting thing about the top of the palace was the fact that it overlooked the helipad
Uncle Ho
. You could get to the helipad from the cinema - that was a strange thing to see as well. On the helipad were two big red circles denoting the locations where two bombs were dropped by a secret agent of the South Vietnamese VC. The pilot was ordered to bomb some VC strongholds in the south, but instead of doing that he flew back to the palace, dropped two bombs, then flew to North Vietnam, where he was hailed as a hero. Still is, actually. Now he runs part of Vietnam Airlines. The bunkers were quite interesting. Built at two levels to withstand different amounts of bombs, the government could be run from these stark, ugly rooms. There were tunnels, typewriters, enormous "portable" radios, and other ancient devices. Some had stickers on them denoting that they were from the US government. That was pretty special.
Outside of the palace were the two tanks that stormed the gates on 30 April 1975. One of them broke down the gate and menaced the palace while the other brought in the crew that ran up to the top of the palace and hoisted the flag of the South Vietnamese Communists. This was like the current Vietnamese flag (the North Vietnamese flag), except that the flag was bisected horizontally so that half was red and half blue, the blue signifying peace. Fabulous factoid of the day. Another fabulous factoid, FYI, is that the red of the Vietnamese flag symbolizes blood and the yellow of the star symbolizes skin.
And so it was that South and North Vietnam were united.
On to the cheerful part of our day
map room
. (That was totally sarcastic, just so you know.)Now, I haven't liked saying that I'm from the US at any point during the trip. It's not that I've been ashamed or felt I was in danger - no, it's simply that being an American is a loaded thing. Other people from the Americas don't appreciate you saying you're "American," most people think you've got massive quantities of money, and often the first thing people say is something about GW Bush. Lovely. It's being in the spotlight in a way that other Europeans don't get, except maybe Brits in India. And of course there are the Europeans who don't like Americans, but we won't get into that. But never have I ever felt so uncomfortable to be an American as I was in Vietnam. For starters, VC propaganda held the US totally responsible for the Vietnam War, which in Vietnam is known as the American War. Even still, much of what you may read about said war implicates the US hugely, and that is not a comfortable thing. Also, although all this happened 30 years ago, I was always a little afraid that I would meet someone who would bear a grudge against me for what my country did. This didn't happen and it seems that there aren't a lot of grudges in Vietnam, but it was always in my mind when I said I was from the US.
We walked into the War Remnants Museum, formerly known as the American War Crimes Museum
President's desk
. After purchasing your tickets, you enter a courtyard with a load of war accoutrements, from tanks and helicopters to bomb casings. One bomb, which is actually less powerful than it's smaller friend, looks like a water tank. It was just absurdly large. Also, just so you know, bomb firepower was measured in kilos. The first exhibit contains photos of foreign soldiers landing in Vietnam, excerpts from speeches by US presidents accompanied by their photos, and other similar photographs. It wasn't only American soldiers pictured, however; we saw Korean soldiers and Australians, and several other contingents of allies.
The second exhibit spoke to me much more than the first. It was a collection of photographs by war correspondents, and almost all of them ended up dead while covering the war. The collection was put together by their colleagues in memory of the work they did and the stories they told. More evocative than just the stories about the photographers, however, were their photographs. There were, of course, the Pulitzer Prize winning photos, one of which I'd never seen and which I found incredibly moving. It pictured a woman swimming across a river with her children to escape bombing. Other photos captured the oddity of life continuing on while soldiers marched by
formal reception room
. One photographer was preparing a story of people working in the rice paddies while the war marched on, but before he could do so he stepped on a landmine. The photos went on and on, and they all told amazing stories. I would have liked to linger longer, but we didn't have any time to waste what with the museum's closing time and all. It was the main hall that nearly made me cry. I sniffled for an hour at least. After an exhibit about MAG's landmine removal program, which featured photos from around the world, we saw photos of parts of the war. They got progressively more and more upsetting and I couldn't stop thinking to myself 1) what have we (the US) done and 2) we knew better. What were we thinking? It just ran over and over and over, and by the time I got to the photos of My Lai I actually had to grasp that the American War in Vietnam was far worse than anyone ever says in the US. And I didn't read it. If I had read it I could have argued bias and taken it with a grain of salt. It wasn't the bloody bodies lying all over the road and it wasn't the bloody clothing. It was the old man.
The photographer had written about this photo that the old man was terrified and shaking so badly that he couldn't walk. The photo was snapped, the photographer walked away, there were gunshots
Eastern-Western dining room
. It was over. But it wasn't. You can see the terror in the old man's face, and he's just looking into a camera at this point. And the photographer just snapped the picture and walked away. And American soldiers shot and killed this old man who was too scared to walk. And I really thought I might start bawling in the middle of the museum. Of course you can say that My Lai was a terrible massacre that wasn't characteristic of the whole war, but in my opinion anything that produces such a massacre is not a good thing. Next to the photo of the old man is a photo of a group of people huddled against a tree, crying. The caption is so similar. The photographer said, "wait," took his photo, and then walked away so the soldiers could shoot the people. I've seen other museums about other genocides and massacres, but this was, hands down, the worst such a museum has ever made me feel. And I have never been less proud to be an American. It wasn't over. In the remainder of the main building there were photos of napalmed corpses and survivors, babies and children mentally or physically handicapped because of their parents' exposure to Agent Orange. There were even conjoined twin fetuses in jars. It was just a big, fat downer.
The last part of the museum was a reproduction of the Tiger Cages from a South Vietnamese prison
helipad with bomb markings
. They were bad news. In some cells at least 20 women were packed together and they had to take turns at the door so they could get some air. In some cells prisoners were shackled in a sitting position that looked like it would in no way be conducive to a healthy physical well-being. There was also a guillotine, which was last used to execute prisoners in the 1960s. Now, you may say that this was a one-sided story produced by the victors. It was. I'll never argue that. But I know that the North Vietnamese also did terrible things. That doesn't make things even - it makes them worse. I'll never understand it.
Erin
Comments
Ya, I agree...
I had the same sadness at the Holocaust museum. And I recently watched a horrendous view of America and of South Koreans from the mis-educated North Koreans who are still being taught utter nonsense history of the world. It is true, victors mis-educate as well but the Communists and the losers of wars exaggerate and lie more. It's even more sad when you realize that there actually are people who still argue that the Holocaust never happened.