Now that I am going to be fourteen, I understand better the on-going war and although it is intricate and complicated, my father and Vietnamese uncle (my mother’s older brother) are keeping me informed as I am constantly asking them questions since the terrible event I went through last year.
Listening to the adults’ conversations, I understand that since Lyndon B. Johnson took the oath as the new American President, he has increased the number of American troops and the heavy bombing of North Vietnam and of the Ho Chi Ming Trail despite the grave reservations of Ambassador Taylor in Vietnam who warned that America may be about to repeat the same mistakes made by the French in sending ever-increasing numbers of soldiers into the Asian forests and jungles of a hostile foreign country where friend and foe are indistinguishable. The majority of bombs are dropped in South Vietnam against Viet Cong (the name given to the South Vietnamese Ho Chi Minh followers) and North Vietnamese Army positions: three million civilian refugees fled the destruction of their villages. Last year, in March of 1965, President Johnson had also authorized the use of Napalm, a petroleum based anti-personnel bomb that showers hundreds of explosive pellets upon impact. A few days later, in retaliation, the American Embassy was bombed by Viet Cong terrorists. It happened on a Tuesday in March, 1965. A bomb exploded in a car parked in front of the U.S. Embassy in Saigon, virtually destroying the building and killing nineteen Vietnamese, two Americans, and one Filipino; nearly two hundred people were injured including my grand mother, auntie Nam and I who were in the vicinity. It was our first time to witness such a horrific act. I recall the scene vividly.
We had just crossed the wide avenue when we heard a big explosion which threw us to the ground. Fortunately, we were behind a big banyan tree which protected us from the flying debris. The two women shielded me with their bodies. After a moment of eerie silence, there were screams all around us and heavy smoke everywhere. The strong smell of plastic and the heavy smoke made us cough. What I saw would forever be imprinted in my mind: a young woman dressed in her white ao dai (Vietnamese long dress) was covered in blood from head to toe; she was barely standing and in her eyes I saw stupefaction and terror. It was my first time seeing blood on a human being and it traumatized me in a deep way. This scene had a serious impact on me and would haunt me for many years to come. One of my eardrums was completely blocked and I couldn’t hear well. We had a few scratches and bruises but overall, we were fine. There was such a commotion with the strident sound of sirens from the ambulances which arrived quickly as well as American Military Police trucks with some GIs and the National Police. We were in a daze and my grandmother and Nam were crying and praising Buddha for our safety, especially mine. We were hugging each other and then taken to the hospital. Someone called my home and my parents both arrived soon after. My mother was in a state of panic and hugged me so hard that I had difficulty in breathing. I could see my father’s somber face trying to hold back tears in his eyes. “Thank God, you are safe! Nothing happened to you, this is a miracle!” After a few hours, we were dismissed by the doctors and were able to leave the hospital. I couldn’t help but see maimed people, some of them with missing limbs; blood was everywhere! I was in shock. I stayed home for a couple of days but it annoyed me more than anything else for I only wanted to resume my life. Trying to sleep at night for the next few weeks was difficult; I would wake up crying suddenly, hearing the screams and seeing the face of that young woman with her gaze of terror, all covered in blood. Thank God for Nam who was sleeping by my side on the floor as she did when I was a small girl. “I am here my sweet Mai-Tâm, by your side. You are safe, everything is fine.” This image would haunt me for years and years to come.
This is when my father and I openly discussed the war. Up to now, my entire family had
been trying to shield me from the real world but after what had just occurred, I had too many
questions and needed answers. I would pay more attention to my father’s discussions when he
was talking to his friends at home or at parties I am sometimes attending. That is when I
heard him say one day:
“Can you believe it but by year’s end American troop levels in Vietnam reached nearly two
hundred thousand, about ninety thousand South Vietnamese soldiers deserted in 1965, and
around thirty five thousand soldiers from North Vietnam infiltrated the South via the Ho Chi
Minh Trail. Up to half of the countryside in South Vietnam is now under some degree of Viet
Cong control. The Americans don’t seem to realize that they are not going to win like that! The
French have bitterly lost and now this…”
“So what can we do?” retorted his interlocutor
“I am seriously thinking that we should pack our stuff and leave! Thank God, my daughter
wasn’t hurt in that terrorist attack against the American Embassy, but there are too
many attempts here and there and who knows what will happen next? She has seen enough for a
Now that I am going to be fourteen, I understand better the on-going war and although it is intricate and complicated, my father and Vietnamese uncle (my mother’s older brother) are keeping me informed as I am constantly asking them questions since the terrible event I went through last year.
Listening to the adults’ conversations, I understand that since Lyndon B. Johnson took the oath as the new American President, he has increased the number of American troops and the heavy bombing of North Vietnam and of the Ho Chi Ming Trail despite the grave reservations of Ambassador Taylor in Vietnam who warned that America may be about to repeat the same mistakes made by the French in sending ever-increasing numbers of soldiers into the Asian forests and jungles of a hostile foreign country where friend and foe are indistinguishable. The majority of bombs are dropped in South Vietnam against Viet Cong (the name given to the South Vietnamese Ho Chi Minh followers) and North Vietnamese Army positions: three million civilian refugees fled the destruction of their villages. Last year, in March of 1965, President Johnson had also authorized the use of Napalm, a petroleum based anti-personnel bomb that showers hundreds of explosive pellets upon impact. A few days later, in retaliation, the American Embassy was bombed by Viet Cong terrorists. It happened on a Tuesday in March, 1965. A bomb exploded in a car parked in front of the U.S. Embassy in Saigon, virtually destroying the building and killing nineteen Vietnamese, two Americans, and one Filipino; nearly two hundred people were injured including my grand mother, auntie Nam and I who were in the vicinity. It was our first time to witness such a horrific act. I recall the scene vividly.
We had just crossed the wide avenue when we heard a big explosion which threw us to the ground. Fortunately, we were behind a big banyan tree which protected us from the flying debris. The two women shielded me with their bodies. After a moment of eerie silence, there were screams all around us and heavy smoke everywhere. The strong smell of plastic and the heavy smoke made us cough. What I saw would forever be imprinted in my mind: a young woman dressed in her white ao dai (Vietnamese long dress) was covered in blood from head to toe; she was barely standing and in her eyes I saw stupefaction and terror. It was my first time seeing blood on a human being and it traumatized me in a deep way. This scene had a serious impact on me and would haunt me for many years to come. One of my eardrums was completely blocked and I couldn’t hear well. We had a few scratches and bruises but overall, we were fine. There was such a commotion with the strident sound of sirens from the ambulances which arrived quickly as well as American Military Police trucks with some GIs and the National Police. We were in a daze and my grandmother and Nam were crying and praising Buddha for our safety, especially mine. We were hugging each other and then taken to the hospital. Someone called my home and my parents both arrived soon after. My mother was in a state of panic and hugged me so hard that I had difficulty in breathing. I could see my father’s somber face trying to hold back tears in his eyes. “Thank God, you are safe! Nothing happened to you, this is a miracle!” After a few hours, we were dismissed by the doctors and were able to leave the hospital. I couldn’t help but see maimed people, some of them with missing limbs; blood was everywhere! I was in shock. I stayed home for a couple of days but it annoyed me more than anything else for I only wanted to resume my life. Trying to sleep at night for the next few weeks was difficult; I would wake up crying suddenly, hearing the screams and seeing the face of that young woman with her gaze of terror, all covered in blood. Thank God for Nam who was sleeping by my side on the floor as she did when I was a small girl. “I am here my sweet Mai-Tâm, by your side. You are safe, everything is fine.” This image would haunt me for years and years to come.
This is when my father and I openly discussed the war. Up to now, my entire family had
been trying to shield me from the real world but after what had just occurred, I had too many
questions and needed answers. I would pay more attention to my father’s discussions when he
was talking to his friends at home or at parties I am sometimes attending. That is when I
heard him say one day:
“Can you believe it but by year’s end American troop levels in Vietnam reached nearly two
hundred thousand, about ninety thousand South Vietnamese soldiers deserted in 1965, and
around thirty five thousand soldiers from North Vietnam infiltrated the South via the Ho Chi
Minh Trail. Up to half of the countryside in South Vietnam is now under some degree of Viet
Cong control. The Americans don’t seem to realize that they are not going to win like that! The
French have bitterly lost and now this…”
“So what can we do?” retorted his interlocutor
“I am seriously thinking that we should pack our stuff and leave! Thank God, my daughter
wasn’t hurt in that terrorist attack against the American Embassy, but there are too
many attempts here and there and who knows what will happen next? She has seen enough for a
girl her age and no children should live like this. It’s too traumatic!”