"End of Vietnam War remembered"
yared...@yahoo.com
By George Esper
THE ASSOCIATED PRESS
Published April 29, 2005
HO CHI MINH CITY, Vietnam -- There is a modern sculpture of a
mother holding her child in a small park in Ho Chi Minh City's central
square, symbolic today of unity, not war.
At the former National Assembly building, workers are hurrying to
prepare a stage to host celebration of the big day tomorrow: April 30,
the 30th anniversary of the fall of the U.S.-backed Saigon government.
The red-and-yellow flag of Vietnam and red bunting heralding the
Communist regime's victory dot the boulevards and buildings once heavy
with sandbags and barbed wire.
The Continental Hotel is busy as tourists feeding a market economy
fill its restaurant for breakfast before heading out into the plush
countryside, now safe from the deadly land mines and ambushes along the
highways.
On that day 30 years ago, a rear guard of 11 Marines, their escape
covered by tear gas and smoke grenades, jumped aboard a U.S. helicopter
to leave the country. It ended a painful and divisive American era of
involvement in Vietnam.
The last two Americans killed in Vietnamese territory, Marine Cpls.
Charles McMahon Jr., 21, of Woburn, Mass., and Darwin Judge, 19, of
Marshalltown, Iowa, died in a three-hour rocket and artillery attack on
Tan Son Nhut Air Base.
The incoming teletype in the Associated Press bureau clicked off an
urgent message from Wes Gallagher, then the president of the wire
service, advising that a final helicopter might be returning.
"Any of you want to leave if it works out?" he asked of me and my
colleagues, Peter Arnett and Matt Franjola.
"Thanks for your offer," I messaged back. "We want to stay, but
have some nervous Vietnamese [who] want to get out, please. FYI, the
U.S. Embassy promised me they would take care of them, but in the chaos
they were unable to get into the embassy to board helicopters."
No longer propped up by the U.S. military and unwilling to fight
on, the Saigon government announced its surrender. South Vietnamese
troops marched from their outposts on the outskirts of Saigon to stack
their weapons.
I rushed down four flights of stairs from the AP bureau in the Eden
Building to the central square to interview weary South Vietnamese
soldiers and police officers. As I approached one officer, I could see
his eyes were crazed with fear. He waved his arms wildly, yelling in
French, "Fini. Fini." The war is over, he said. We have lost.
As I took notes, he nervously fingered his holstered pistol. I
feared that he was going to shoot me, and that after 10 years of
covering the war for the AP, I would die on this last day for his
revenge. The South Vietnamese were angry the Americans had abandoned
them to face the wrath of the victors.
The police officer did an about-face and saluted a war memorial
statue of South Vietnamese marines in the park, pulled his pistol from
his holster, raised it to his head and fired.
Within hours, North Vietnamese troops destroyed the memorial with
sledgehammers, part of a campaign to remove the legacy of the Americans
and their South Vietnamese allies. Today, on the same site, stands the
sculpture of the mother holding her child. Saigon would be renamed Ho
Chi Minh City, after the legendary communist hero.
A South Vietnamese mob stole dozens of embassy cars and looted the
apartments of the Americans. Others yelled at the Americans, "We want
to go, too," as they fired their rifles into the air.
"They were nothing more than hoods ... running around with weapons,
not even defending their own country," one of the 11 final Marines,
Sgt. Maj. Terry Bennington, would say later.
Hundreds of South Vietnamese stampeded the embassy and tried to
scale its 14-foot wall to reach evacuation helicopters. U.S. Marines
and civilians beat them back with their boots and rifle butts.
Thousands of South Vietnamese deserted, fleeing with their families.
I had written about the nameless, faceless communist soldiers for
10 years, without ever seeing them except in death or as prisoners of
war. On that day 30 years ago, two North Vietnamese soldiers walked
into the AP office, showing us photos of their families and telling us
how much they missed them and wanted to get home.
I thought to myself: American, South Vietnamese, North Vietnamese.
We're all the same, feeling the same loneliness and not wanting to die.
Yet the war had taken its toll: Nearly 60,000 Americans dead; nearly
224,000 South Vietnamese killed; 1.1 million communist fighters killed;
and nearly 2 million civilians killed.
That's the way the war ended for me 30 years ago on April 30, 1975.
·George Esper covered the war in Vietnam for the Associated Press
for 10 years. He now teaches journalism at West Virginia University.
Tom Lacombe
I found the part about the two NVA coming into the AP office the most
interesting part. Thanks for posting this.
http://cpcug.org/user/jlacombe/tom.html