Vietnam

Mother Superior walked into our 3rd grade class at St. Laurence O’Toole School and handed a letter to our teacher, Sister Marie Charles (not her real name). They talked briefly and then began to address the class. It was 1966 and I was 7 or 8 years old. The letter was from a young Lieutenant, probably from the Lawrence, MA area. Looking back I imagine he had some connection to the school, maybe even graduated from here or had some family connection to Mother Superior. He was in Vietnam, leading a platoon and fighting hard to stop the spread of communism. Since we didn’t know what communism was, the nuns gave us the quick rundown. Imagine not believing in God. Imagine not being able to buy more than one loaf of bread per week. Imagine not being able to buy a candy bar. Within seconds she had the full attention of the class and we were on board with helping to stop the spread of this horrible scourge.

Our assignment was to write letters to this young Lieutenant on a regular basis. This would be some sort of support for him. In return we would get regular updates from him about Vietnam. So in between Religion and Math class we wrote. We sat silently and hand wrote the letters every few months or so. Occasionally Sister Marie Charles would read a letter from the Lieutenant who thanked us for writing and described his progress in Vietnam. Things were not going well. People were dying. By the end of the school year in 1967 we got our last update. The young Lieutenant was the only person left alive from his original platoon. Everyone else had been killed. All 40 or so of them.

As I grew up the war was front and center. There were stories on the news every night about bombing campaigns and body bags and things like My Lai. In our own country the government gunned down college students for protesting against the war. And then there was the draft, always looming in the background.  I wondered whether I’d have to go to Vietnam at some point. When I was 12 or 13 the war began to slow down bit. But then it took a turn and spread as the U.S. bombed 2 neighboring countries, Cambodia and Laos. But by 1973 I turned 15 and the draft had stopped. I breathed a sigh of relief. I would not be going to Vietnam anytime soon.

Vietnam was on our itinerary as one of 10 countries we’d potentially visit on this year-long trip, along with Laos and Cambodia. We’d talked to a few people who had been there and were told it’s beautiful. We’d read tons of travel blogs about all the things to do and places to see. The place looked lovely. Laos, however, was scratched from our plans as it’s very pricey to fly there even from neighboring Thailand or Vietnam. The 20 hour bus trip is out of the question. Cambodia has also been taken off the list. They have elections coming up soon and the government has jailed the opposition candidate and threatened a 30 year sentence. Protest are bound to happen and you know what can happen to protesters. So it was on to Vietnam.

Deep down I started to feel a little nervous, embarrassed, apprehensive, sorry. I know other Americans have travelled to Vietnam but I wasn’t sure how or whether we’d be welcomed. It was weird. We were headed to a country that we fought a brutal war with. One that we we had no business being in. One that saw the deaths of millions of people. A country that we sprayed with Dioxin. One that we dumped Napalm on. And one war that we lost, big time. I’m not sure I ever remember anyone apologizing for what we did to Vietnam. So today I offer an apology to the Vietnamese people. I’m sorry. I can never make it up to you. I want to be friends.

We arrived in Hanoi and have been in the country about 2 weeks. Americans make up just a tiny fraction of the tourists here. The majority are from China and Korea. The remainder are mostly from Europe. Most Vietnamese don’t pay too much attention to tourists unless they are working in tourism. People go about their day without giving us a look. The younger generation, under age 50, has no recollection of the war. They are working hard, planning for the future, and have been truly friendly to us. The older generation, people my age, remember the war and the terribleness of it. Some still harbor resentment, and that’s totally understandable. I just smile and walk the other way.

Vietnam is still a communist country. One of only 5 remaining in the world. But guess what? I spent half an hour in St. Joseph’s Catholic church in Hanoi just a few days ago. And I can buy as much bread as I want. And anyone can buy a Snickers bar anytime they like.