From My Lai to Cave Hospitals—What to See in Vietnam

Motorcycle speedometer never seems to work In Vietnam. You can only guess at how fast you’re driving on sometimes flat but often uneven pavement, and the time it takes to get from here to there is always questionable.

In Vietnam, time sometimes feels unreliable. Depending on where you go, it could be the culmination of the war in 1968, or the end in 1975. In some streets of Hanoi, it has the feel of old French colonial days, while In Ho Chi Minh City you often feel the urgency of the present as the country struggles to modernize. Sometimes you even find yourself in an uncertain future, as Vietnam is a country trying to move forward and escape from its troubled past. But the past is everywhere.

I was thinking these thoughts as I walked along the old highway between Da Nang and Son My, later known to the Americans as My Lai, where American soldiers once carried out a wild massacre. famous man. But we’ll be back to that emotional place in a moment. Now, begin your journey, where the journey through Vietnam’s war-torn past may begin.

Ho Chi Minh City—still known by many nostalgic locals by its familiar name: Saigon—is Vietnam’s largest city and home to the most well-connected airport. Before the war, the city was the nation’s capital, and during the conflict it became the main garrison of US and South Vietnamese forces. But after the fall of Saigon in 1975, it was stripped of both its capital status and its name.

Nick Hilden

Here and in the surrounding area you will find several important sites related to the war, but I would recommend two downtown locations as essential. Start at the War Remnants Museum, where you’ll find a wide range of war documents left behind after the US withdrawal in 1973—50 years ago to be exact—as well as a fairly comprehensive introduction to the conflict and its more gruesome historical points: pivotal battles, generational mutations caused by the use of Agent Orange and other poisons, war crimes (with obvious biases). obvious to the Americans, who undeniably committed countless acts of barbarism, although the North Vietnamese military is certainly not innocent of the atrocities).

Just down the street, you should also explore the Reunification Palace, once the main political base, where the South Vietnamese president hosted the likes of Nixon and Kissinger, and the famous site of the end of the war. iconic when North Vietnamese tanks came crashing through the gate in 1975. Today, it’s brimming with tourists taking selfies.

Nick Hilden

From here, we’ll assume you’re flying north to Hanoi, once the capital of the “enemy” (at least from an American point of view), now a charming city where the Traditional Vietnamese aesthetics blend with architectural elements left over from the French colonial era, all of which are interspersed with—somewhat ironically since it was the central headquarters of the communist leadership. products of the country—well-known American brands such as Burger King, Domino’s, and KFC.

In terms of war-related sites, the city itself is a monument that has withstood a more or less relentless bombing campaign. Nowadays, foreigners tend to stay in Tay Ho district north of West Lake (West Lake), where future senator John McCain crashed and was taken prisoner in a bombing raid. He and many other American POWs were held at Hoa Lo Prison – the infamous “Hanoi Hilton” – today one of the city’s most popular tourist attractions.

Nick Hilden

In Hanoi you will also find the Vietnam National Museum of Fine Arts, which offers an interesting collection of pre-war, war and post-war/contemporary artworks. And a must-see is the Ho Chi Minh Mausoleum, where the body of the longtime leader is controversial for the country’s anti-colonial, revolutionary and military efforts.

Da Nang is the perfect starting point

Next, a tour through the history of the Vietnam War wouldn’t be complete without a visit to Da Nang—a bustling coastal city that was once a base of American operations. Here, you’ll find My Khe Beach—known to US GIs as China Beach during the war—where the United States concentrated its forces and provided R&R for soldiers after a stint in the jungle. When the Americans left, it was from this beach that more than 200,000 refugees tried to flee by all means of sea before the North Vietnamese army arrived. Today, the beach is a popular tourist destination with its massive seafood restaurants and lively bars lining the boardwalk.

Da Nang is the perfect starting point from which to experience many other important sites related to the war. From here, it takes about 3 hours by motorbike to Hue (assuming you follow the beautiful but somewhat treacherous coastal road through Hai Van Pass—dangerous but less than the main highway full of trucks), a the city witnessed some of the fiercest fighting during the Tet Offensive, and is where today you can visit the stunning ruins of the 200-year-old Imperial Citadel. Just south of Da Nang is the Marble Mountains, in which is concealed an underground Viet Cong hospital believed to be within earshot of the US Ngu Hanh Son Aviation Facility.

Also near Da Nang—about a three-hour motorbike ride—is Son My, the site of the My Lai Massacre.

New roads are being built between Da Nang and Son My. They are much smoother than the highways they are replacing, and along the way you will pass new resorts and apartment complexes, although cattle and wild dogs still roam along the roads. road.

During my visit to Son My, the new highway was still unfinished, and at one point I was forced to detour through a small village along a road of cement blocks that didn’t quite fit together, forcing me to Slow down while moving. bouncing my way across its surface. It happened to be Tet—the Vietnamese version of the Lunar New Year in which almost everything was closed—so there was no one on the road lined with brilliant pink, lemon yellow, and crimson flags. All red flags have the shape of a yellow star of Vietnam or a hammer and sickle.

Finally, this road took me to Son My, which was unusually bustling because it was Tet. Compared to some of the other villages I passed along the way, it was a clearly prosperous town, home to many well-maintained and modern houses, and well-dressed kids running around on the streets. electric bicycles and scooters. Much has changed since that fateful day March 16, 1968.

It took a while to find the massacre monument as it was mislabeled on Google Maps. Directions to the Son My Memorial took me to a school that was closed for the holidays, where a woman stepped out and motioned for me to head up the road to the Son My Ruins, where I parked and pay 10,000 VND (about 40 cents) entrance fee.

The park is a peaceful if haunted place, and despite its haunted atmosphere, it’s hard to believe that I stood where about 500 people were tortured and mass murdered. At the center of the grounds is a stone monument depicting a small group of villagers, a sad woman standing in their center with one fist raised while the other holds a dead infant. die. Another woman hugged the body of a dead man, her face scowling with hatred. A man fell to the ground, still holding another corpse in his arms. Behind this is a shrine dedicated to 504 victims. Inside it is a list of their names and ages. There are too many single digits listed. Too many one-year-olds. Any is too much.

Then, scattered around the grounds are a number of additional memorials and monuments from the massacre. The foundations of some houses were destroyed. A tribute to the 170 people who were executed in a long trench. Marble tombstones placed on top of a pair of mass graves. And the bodhi tree, once tended by one of the murdered, still grows among the ruins to this day.

This place is empty of tourists. Just me and my partner, a Vietnamese family and some Chinese tourists. Maybe it has something to do with the holidays and the pandemic, but it didn’t strike me as a place Americans usually go, and indeed the woman at the ticket counter seemed surprised when she asked. and I told her where I came from.

If Americans don’t go, they should. Admittedly a bit inaccessible by typical tourist standards, but new roads are under construction. Access is getting easier. And the important thing is—no, necessary—that more people, more Americans, understand the pain of war.

One last suggestion. If during your visit you get to the northern islands of the Lower Long Bay (and you should, because they are stunningly beautiful—the very definition of paradise with island spiers topped with lush jungle and centuries-old temples tucked away in coves accessible only by kayak), explore the Hospital Cave dug into one of the hills of Cat Ba Island. Built by the North Vietnamese, it famously withstood intense American bombing.

I will never forget the words of my very grim tour guide—a Vietnamese man whose parents suffered greatly during the conflict—and seemed exhausted before the weight of its history:

“We preserve places like this so we never forget how terrible war is and how important peace is. We must work together to maintain peace. I hope you agree with me.