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<div class="entry-date"><big>Weekend Edition November 9-11, 2012<br>
<a class="moz-txt-link-freetext" href="http://www.counterpunch.org/2012/11/09/rice-fields-resound-with-songs-and-bombs/">http://www.counterpunch.org/2012/11/09/rice-fields-resound-with-songs-and-bombs/</a><br>
<br>
</big></div>
<big> </big>
<div class="subheadlinestyle"><big>Our Trip to Hanoi, 1970</big></div>
<big> </big>
<h1 class="article-title">Rice Fields Resound with Songs…and Bombs</h1>
<big> </big>
<div class="mainauthorstyle"><big>by NANCY KURSHAN</big></div>
<big> </big>
<div class="main-text"><big> </big>
<div><big></big>
<p style="text-align: left;" align="center"><big><em>This January 2013
marks the 40th anniversary of the signing of the Paris Peace Treaty
that nominally ended the war referred to here in the United States as
the Vietnam War or, as it is known in Vietnam, the American War. </em></big></p>
<big></big>
<p><big><em>As a 26 year old co-founder of the Youth International
Party, the Yippies, I traveled in May of 1970 to North Vietnam with 2
other women on an anti-war delegation. We were accepting an invitation
from a Vietnamese delegation we encountered at an international peace
conference in Stockholm.</em></big></p>
<big></big>
<p><big><em>I had just lived through the Chicago 8 Conspiracy Trial in
which 8 men were charged with causing the disturbances at the 1968
Democratic Convention. My partner at the time, Jerry Rubin, was one of
the defendants. </em></big></p>
<big></big>
<p><big><em>Upon my retirement a few years ago as a social worker in
the Chicago public schools , I wrote the following piece as part of a
longer memoir. The piece does not discuss in detail the full
destruction and devastation the U.S. unleashed in this David and
Goliath war. That is the subject of a more comprehensive story. Suffice
it to say that in addition to between 2 and 4 million Vietnamese who
were killed in that war, in addition to all those who were injured and
maimed and tortured, the U.S. used 19 million gallons of various
herbicides including Agent Orange which continues to have profound
negative effects on the lives of generations of Vietnamese men and
women. Exposure has been associated with cancers, immune deficiencies,
reproductive illnesses and severe birth defects, not just to those
directly exposed but to future generations of children and
grandchildren. Vietnam estimates that 400,000 people were killed or
maimed by Agent Orange and 500,000 children were born with birth
defects. The Red Cross of Vietnam estimates that up to one million
people currently living are disabled or have health problems due to
Agent Orange.</em></big></p>
<big></big>
<p><big><em>I believe that historical memory is extremely important.
When the Vietnamese war ended, I hoped that we would never again see
such a devastating war by the U.S. military. For some years the
so-called “Vietnam Syndrome” seemed to serve as a brake on at least
outright overt warfare. Those days have receded into a faint memory
while the U.S. involves itself in what appears to be perpetual warfare
now centered on the Middle East.</em></big></p>
<big></big>
<p><big><strong>HANOI, NORTH VIETNAM–MAY 1970</strong></big></p>
<big></big>
<p><big><em>“Nothing is more precious than independence and freedom.”
Vietnamese proverb</em></big></p>
<big></big>
<p><big>We left from New York and traveled through Prague to Moscow.
The journey from Moscow to North Vietnam was far from an express trip.
We stopped in Ulan Bator (Mongolia), Tashkent (Uzbekistan), Karachi
(Pakistan) and Calcutta (India), letting passengers off, picking up new
ones, and refueling. On every leg of the journey we were fed chicken,
lots of chicken, repeatedly. In Ulan Bator, we saw nothing of the
world outside. We sat in the airport restaurant that had the feel of
centuries of civilization behind it, surrounded by ornate and colorful
filigree, tapestry and tiling. We deplaned in Calcutta but never left
the airport. Nonetheless, we could see through the floor-length
windows the tiny shanties and the dire poverty that was literally right
across from the airport. In the Rest Room there were women dressed in
traditional saris, begging for small change.</big></p>
<big></big>
<p><big>And then, finally, we flew into Hanoi. Suddenly the black and
white world was transformed into glorious Technicolor and I felt like
Dorothy landing in Oz as Genie, Judy and I climbed down from the small
Russian Aeroflot plane and were greeted as dignitaries, with scores of
school children presenting each of us with multicolored gladiola
bouquets and banners of welcome. We were taken to a lovely old
French-style hotel, a legacy of the past colonial era, in the center of
Hanoi. There were guests from around the world, most notably a large
delegation from China and a number of individuals from the Soviet
Union. We each had a room, a bed with mosquito netting, a ceiling fan,
and our own bathroom. It was 1970. I was 26 years old. To us youthful
yippies this felt like the lap of luxury.</big></p>
<big></big>
<p><big>Instructed to take our meals in the hotel restaurant, we
protested, hoping to eat off the streets and share in the food that
Vietnamese, not tourists, consumed. In the end, their instruction as
well as our protest was irrelevant because we spent almost every minute
of our waking time with the Vietnamese and meals became part of our
adventures. On the few occasions when we did take meals there, the
food in the hotel restaurant was wonderful– Vietnamese influenced by
French cuisine. In the morning we were offered either a bowl of Pho, a
soup with a hodgepodge of varying ingredients, or eggs French style.</big></p>
<big></big>
<p><big>As to clothes, we were immediately fitted for Vietnamese “black
pajamas.” These were not really pajamas, but loose-fitting outfits
that had come to be identified as the uniform of the Viet Cong, the
guerrilla forces of South Vietnam– baggy pants with an elasticized
waist and a slightly tailored, long-sleeved button-down shirt. We were
told that in the past when resources were less scarce there had been
cloth of various colors but during the war black was the best option.
Thus the term “black pajamas.” The material was black silk and had a
delicate patterned weave. We were also fitted for sandals that were
fashioned out of rubber tires that we wore our entire time in Viet Nam
and for years after in the U.S. They were comfortable and
indestructible. The final item of clothing was a conical hat to keep
us safe from the sun.</big></p>
<big></big>
<p><big>Our host, the U.S.-Vietnamese Friendship Association, was
accountable to the North Vietnamese government and in charge of
relationships with American visitors. They attempted to tailor the
trip to suit our interests. We traveled around in a large van that
held the three of us plus our guides. There were four Vietnamese, one
a woman, who were with us most of the time including Oanh, our good
friend from the Stockholm conference.</big></p>
<big></big>
<p><big>Xuan Oanh had joined Ho Chi Minh and the Viet Minh Front in
1945 at the young age of 22. The Viet Minh was the national liberation
movement that led the struggle for the independence of Vietnam from
French colonialism, through the 1940s up until the 1954 Battle of Dien
Bien Phu where the Vietnamese finally defeated the French. The primary
organization within the Viet Minh was the Indochinese Communist Party.
However, there were other patriotic individuals and groups that
participated in the struggle as well.</big></p>
<big></big>
<p><big>A poet, composer, musician, expert translator and patriot, Xuan
Oanh participated in some of the seminal diplomatic events surrounding
the American War including the Paris Peace Talks. In Vietnam he is
best known for composing what became a revolutionary anthem, “August
Nineteen,” inspired while attending a Viet Minh mass meeting:</big></p>
<big></big>
<p><big><em>“All the people of Vietnam rise up this day and contribute
their force,</em></big></p>
<big></big>
<p><big><em>Swearing to sacrifice bone and blood to resolutely fight
for the future</em></big></p>
<big></big>
<p><big><em>August Nineteen</em></big></p>
<big></big>
<p><big><em>The light of the star of freedom shines</em></big></p>
<big></big>
<p><big><em>Flags fly everywhere.”</em></big></p>
<big></big>
<p><big>Our driver, our “hero driver” as we called him, was also our
provider, bringing back to us whatever we told him we needed. This
team of Vietnamese translated for us and provided for our every need.
We felt we were unnecessarily pampered but at the same time we were
appreciative.</big></p>
<big></big>
<p><big>As an all-women’s delegation we were particularly interested in
the role of women in the revolution and in Vietnamese society, and as a
youth delegation we were interested in cultural aspects of life such as
music, art, and theatre.</big></p>
<big></big>
<p><big>However, we did not consider ourselves tourists or even
students of Vietnamese society and culture. First and foremost we
wanted to understand Viet Nam better in order to grapple with what it
meant to be anti-war activists inside the belly of the beast. In this
context we requested to go to the front, as far south as possible, to
the DMZ (the demilitarized zone between North and South), both to see
different aspects of Vietnamese life and also to get as close to the
fighting as possible.</big></p>
<big></big>
<p><big>When the Vietnamese defeated the French in 1954, the Geneva
Conference divided the country in two. The dividing line ran east to
west, around the 17th parallel. It was a demilitarized zone that came
to be known simply as “the DMZ.” The Viet Minh would control North
Vietnam but South Vietnam would be under non-Communist control. In
theory this would be a temporary arrangement and within two years there
were to be elections and the country would be unified. However, it was
soon clear to everyone that Ho Chi Minh, the leader of the Viet Minh,
would win the election by a landslide. Even U.S. President Eisenhower
acknowledged that “I have never talked or corresponded with a person
knowledgeable in Indochinese affairs who did not agree that had
elections been held as of the time of the fighting, possibly 80 per
cent of the population would have voted for the Communist Ho Chi Minh
as their leader.” (Eisenhower, p. 372) Unbeknownst to the American
people, the U.S. began covert actions in South Vietnam to assure that
there would be no elections and no reunification of the country. (<em>Pentagon
Papers</em>) Fifteen years later, in 1970, we were mired in this now
overt as well as covert bloody war and it was a daily front-page
conflict around the globe.</big></p>
<big></big>
<p><big>Although North Vietnam had experienced the war directly with
severe bombing campaigns, it was South Vietnam that was taking the
brunt. What Americans referred to as the Viet Cong (Vietnamese
Communists) was actually the National Liberation Front of South Vietnam
(the NLF). The NLF led the struggle in South Vietnam. Like the Viet
Minh the most dynamic force within the NLF was the Communist Party but
many other patriotic elements participated as well.</big></p>
<big></big>
<p><big>So we requested to go to the front. The U.S. was currently
bombing the two most southern provinces of North Vietnam and we felt it
was important to document it. We wanted to be able to describe the
military destruction to people back home, to honestly say we saw it
with our own eyes.</big></p>
<big></big>
<p><big>The U.S.-Vietnam Friendship Association welcomed us because we
were anti-war activists; they hoped to strengthen our ability to fight
the U.S. war machine and end the war. However, they viewed our desire
to travel south differently than we did. They did not want us to die
in Vietnam. Their goal was to have us back in the U.S. better prepared
to continue the fight against the war machine. So they said no, we
could not go as far as the demilitarized zone; it was too dangerous.
However, they would take us to the province of Thanh Hoa, a rural area
about 150 kilometers from Hanoi which had endured air attacks in the
past but was quiet at the time. There we could see a very different
way of life than in the city of Hanoi, more representative of Vietnam
as a whole.</big></p>
<big></big>
<p><big>Before taking off for Thanh Hoa, we spent quite a few days
getting acquainted with Hanoi and immediately fell in love with the
people and the city. In those days it appeared to be a bustling,
thriving city but not in the ways of the West. There were few cars and
buses on the streets as the dominant mode of transportation was the
bicycle. There were thousands and thousands of bicyclists going every
which way. Bicycles often carried more than one person as well as
fairly large quantities of goods. Despite the fact they seemed to be
going every which way, people somehow understood the rules of the road
and avoided accidents. There were also bicycle cabs with a seat for
one or two people in the front and a bicycle that powered it from
behind.</big></p>
<big></big>
<p><big>People were all dressed simply, crisp and clean, similar to the
outfits for which we had been fitted, although most of the women wore
light-colored shirts, perhaps in contrast to the black “pajamas” of the
Viet Cong. Genie at about five feet ten inches towered over most of
the Vietnamese who were generally small in stature. I, on the other
hand, at just under five-feet, felt like I had come home and was
charmed by the idea that these small people were able to go up against
the American Goliath. All over the city people were sitting in
doorways or on the streets, talking or selling their wares, or just
holding their babies in their arms. And they frequently seemed quite
comfortable squatting on their haunches. I don’t think we saw an obese
person the entire time we were in Viet Nam. Neither did people appear
hungry, underfed or malnourished. Generally speaking, the population
appeared healthy, energetic and yes, even happy, despite the fact that
they were in the midst of this brutal war.</big></p>
<big></big>
<p><big>We walked around Hanoi, just taking in the scene. In the
middle of the city we came upon the park surrounding the Hoan Kiem Lake
(Lake of the Restored Sword). It was a weekend, and all combinations,
young and old, men and women, were out and about, strolling leisurely
though the park, as were we. Walking the paths and crossing the wooden
bridge with the pagoda-like structures at either end, we took in the
simple pleasures of several schoolgirls walking arm-in-arm, and an
elderly man in a simple hammock basking at the water’s edge with a look
of serene contentment on his face. Everywhere we went people stopped
to inquire as to who we were and wide-eyed children followed along
beside us.</big></p>
<big></big>
<p><big>The streets of Hanoi seemed safer than the streets of any big
city I had ever been in and have ever been in since. As three women,
and foreigners without the benefit of common language, we still felt
comfortable walking around the streets of Hanoi alone at night.
Additionally, the level of organization left us feeling as fully
protected as I did as a young child in the presence of my parents. One
day we were saddened by the loss of Judy’s camera, but the next day it
suddenly appeared, returned to us by our hosts. It was picked up by
somebody and passed on until it found its way back to us. No one along
the way had thought to keep it for him or herself despite the fact that
it would have been quite a prize.</big></p>
<big></big>
<p><big>We visited a first grade in an elementary school, quite spare
by our standards. There were dolls and trucks and other toys in a
cabinet but not the surfeit of materials that you might see in some
American classrooms. There was a large chalkboard on the wall and at
each desk sat two children. The girls wore short dresses and the boys
wore the typical dark pants and light shirts. Most of the girls had
short bob haircuts. The children performed songs and dances, boys and
girls alike. Perhaps they had weeded them out for our benefit, but it
seemed there were no children with “behavior problems” as you would see
in American schools, both then and now. We had tea with their young
teacher whose face had that clean, fresh glow that we saw on so many of
the faces of young adults in Hanoi. Everywhere we went we were served
tea. The Vietnamese way of dealing with heat was different than what
we were used to. Most people wore long sleeves, protecting as much of
their bodies from the sun as possible. They drank soup and tea
frequently, making sure to keep hydrated and also with the idea that
hot things cool you off, perhaps by causing you to sweat. Flowers were
the other constant in the way we were greeted, usually bouquets of
gladiolas similar to the ones bestowed upon us when we first arrived at
the airport.</big></p>
<big></big>
<p><big>In North Vietnam, different sectors of the population were
organized into unions. Xuan Oanh was a member of the Musicians’ Union
and we had the good fortune to have dinner with members of the Union
where I recorded many traditional and contemporary Vietnamese musical
pieces.</big></p>
<big></big>
<p><big>We also met with a group of young medical students, among them
a young woman from the Thanh Hoa minority who presented us with a
bouquet of gladiolas. Wearing the colorful woven dress and headdress
of her tribe and traditional jewelry, she explained that there were 60
different minority tribes in Vietnam, most speaking their own
language. I shared with the medical students my story about obtaining
the inoculations I had received in preparation for the trip. I had
called the State Department to find out what shots were required to
travel to South Vietnam since North Vietnam was not even on their radar
screen. They told me Yellow Fever, Bubonic Plague, and Typhoid were
all necessary and so I obediently got inoculated for everything all in
one sitting since time was short. Needless to say I didn’t feel too
well for a period of time. The medical students had a good laugh and
informed me that such diseases had been wiped out in North Vietnam.</big></p>
<big></big>
<p><big>We were hosted as well by the Women’s Union. We knew that the
leader of the Provisional Revolutionary Government (PRG) was a woman,
Madame Binh. That alone impressed us because there were very few
American women in public positions of power at that time. We were
happily surprised to see so many Vietnamese women involved in political
as well as military life. The Women’s Union members spoke to us about
the important role of women in the struggle for independence, both
historically and in the present. We were told that Ho Chi Minh said,
“Women make up half of society. If women are not liberated, then
society is not free.” In 1930 a woman named Minh Khai formed the Viet
Nam Women’s Union at the same time as the creation of the Indochinese
Communist Party. She has been called the founder of the long-haired
army, the civilian movement composed largely of women who carried out
much of the legal political work in the movement for national
liberation. She was eventually tortured and executed by the French.</big></p>
<big></big>
<p><big>A woman from South Vietnam presented us with large silk scarves
in the blue, red and yellow colors of the Vietnamese flag. I still
have this scarf. It is framed and hangs on my wall, reminding me of my
experiences in Vietnam. The four quadrants each contain a drawing of a
Vietnamese woman, representing a different segment of the national
liberation struggle. Two are armed with rifles, one in the uniform of
the regular standing army and the other dressed in the black pajamas of
the guerrilla fighters. The third wears the traditional garb of one of
the minorities, carries a baby on her back as well as a bow and
arrows. The fourth is dressed in a blue and white <em>Ao Dai</em>, a
beautiful Vietnamese outfit made up of a long tunic and pants. She
wears the familiar conical hat and carries the Vietnamese flag. She
represents the patriotic civilians who participate in the political
struggle. All four are honored equally. In Vietnamese, English and
French is written “South Viet Nam Women’s Union for Liberation.”</big></p>
<big></big>
<p><big>We were also introduced to a young woman who was part of the
Army of the Provisional Revolutionary Government (PRG). She was
wearing her army uniform with several medals pinned to her shirt. She
described the torture she had undergone at the hands of the U.S.-backed
South Vietnamese Army (ARVN) and how she relived her torture nightly.
As with the Vietnamese Ambassador we had met in Moscow who had
undergone a similar experience, we were reminded that beneath the good
will and laughter there was a profoundly dark side to the experiences
of these people.</big></p>
<big></big>
<p><big>We visited a military museum exhibiting the history of warfare
in Vietnam dating centuries back to the invasion by the Chinese, the
French colonial occupation and up to the present American war. The
fight for independence was not new for the Vietnamese nor was it a
fleeting preoccupation. The Chinese had occupied Viet Nam for about a
thousand years until the Vietnamese reclaimed their independence in 967
A.D. The museum housed ancient instruments of torture utilized by the
Chinese. An elaborate model of the Battle of Dien Bien Phu took up
much of one room. The Vietnamese were especially proud of their defeat
of the French as it was the first time a non-European independence
movement was able to defeat an occupying European power in a pitched
battle. We also viewed remnants of U.S. planes that had been shot down
by anti-aircraft artillery fighters in the current war and as well as
useful household items that had been made out of the metal remains.</big></p>
<big></big>
<p><big>Our experience at the museum was one more reminder that the
Vietnamese commitment to independence was deep-rooted in centuries of
struggle and their people were formidable opponents even for a
superpower like the U.S. They seemed to be fighting with the voices of
their ancestors encouraging them to persist until victory. Their
tenacity in the face of larger powers was legendary and unlike anything
we had ever encountered.</big></p>
<big></big>
<p><big>Hanoi itself was peaceful while we were there but we knew it
had experienced terror in the ’68 U.S. bombing campaign. Bach Mai
Hospital, the primary medical institution in Vietnam, was bombed and
severely damaged. Back in the States there was a serious campaign by
the peace movement to raise funds to rebuild the hospital. We
witnessed the craters that stood as a reminder of the deliberate
bombing of civilian targets and were told about the times they had had
to evacuate all the school children from the city to the countryside.</big></p>
<big></big>
<p><big>We had the honor of sharing tea with Xuan Thuy, Chief
Negotiator for the North Vietnamese at the Paris Peace Talks, a
friendly, gracious grandfatherly man with a broad smile. An American
diplomat described him as a “top drawer negotiator, a dreadful fellow
to face across the table day after day.” (<em>Wikipedia</em>)</big></p>
<big></big>
<p><big><strong>THE GULF OF TONKIN, THANH HOA PROVINCE, & THE THAI
NOIR</strong></big></p>
<big></big>
<p><big>After several days in Hanoi, we set out in our mini-bus for the
countryside, the three of us and our four Vietnamese friends. In route
to Thanh Hoa Province, we made a stop at the Gulf of Tonkin, the site
of the infamous Gulf of Tonkin incident of the summer of 1964. The
U.S. claimed that North Vietnamese gunboats opened fire on two U.S.
destroyers without provocation. (Note: One might ask what were U.S.
gunboats doing way out there in the Gulf of Tonkin. Can you imagine
Vietnamese gunboats in the port of Manhattan?) The U.S. claimed it
then launched “retaliatory” attacks. Most significantly, President
Johnson and Secretary of Defense Robert McNamara used this incident to
pass the Gulf of Tonkin Resolution that gave the green light to all
future major escalations of the war by Johnson and later Nixon. The
House of Representatives voted unanimously to pass the resolution and
only two Senators opposed it, Wayne Morse of Oregon and Ernest Gruening
of Alaska!</big></p>
<big></big>
<p><big>Noam Chomsky and many other historians have now revealed that
active U.S. involvement in Viet Nam had begun much earlier in 1961 and
1962. The Gulf of Tonkin incident was invented to fool the American
people into believing the North Vietnamese had initiated hostilities so
that the war could be seriously escalated.</big></p>
<big></big>
<p><big>In 1995, retired Vietnamese General Nguyen Giap met with former
Secretary of Defense Robert McNamara and categorically denied that
Vietnamese gunboats had attacked American destroyers. A taped
conversation was released in 2001 of a meeting several weeks after
passage of the 1964 Gulf of Tonkin resolution revealing that Robert
McNamara expressed doubts to President Johnson that the attack had even
occurred.</big></p>
<big></big>
<p><big>And so we sat with our Vietnamese friends, not another soul in
sight, on the peaceful white sands of the Gulf of Tonkin and had long
talks about Marxism-Leninism and our mutual work. They wanted to
understand our ideology and our strategy and how we analyzed the forces
at work in the U.S. They struggled with us to generally become more
ideological as well as more systematic in our approach to our anti-war
work. We also explained our idea for an American-Vietnamese conference
and developed our collective plans. We would organize a meeting
between cultural workers in the United States—artists, musicians,
cartoonists, writers, actors, poets, playwrights—and a Vietnamese
delegation. They suggested we broaden it out to an Indochinese
delegation that would include Cambodians and Laotians since the U.S.
was expanding the war into the entire region. We agreed to hold such a
conference at the end of the summer in Havana, Cuba. In a week we
would leave Vietnam and return to New York to begin the work.</big></p>
<big></big>
<p><big>After hours of such discussion, we continued inland on our
journey towards Thanh Hoa province about 93 miles from Hanoi. In Thanh
Hoa we stayed overnight in a small guest house, a modern one-story
building with a series of rooms. It was clean and comfortable. We
took refreshing showers in a sheltered outdoor area, using a big ladle
to scoop out water from a large bucket.</big></p>
<big></big>
<p><big>In Thanh Hoa it was clear that women of all ages and experience
were playing an important role in the life of the village. The Mayor
was a woman, about 35 to 40 years of age, and she served as our tour
guide. She introduced us to a group of young women, anti-aircraft
artillery fighters, who were all dressed in the black pajamas and
military helmets that were commonplace. They showed us their artillery
and proudly described how they had shot down two planes that had come
to attack their community.</big></p>
<big></big>
<p><big>We learned that in the year 248 A.D. right there in Thanh Hoa
Province, a 23-year-old woman named Trieu Thi Trinh and her brother led
thousands of people to drive out the Chinese invader. At first
successful, they later were unable to hold back the Chinese invasion
and Trieu Thi Trinh took her own life rather than live as a serf. Her
iconic and inspirational words were, “My wish is to ride the tempest,
tame the waves, kill the sharks. I want to drive the enemy away, to
save our people. I will not resign myself to the usual lot of women
who bow their heads and become concubines.” (<em>Vietnam Studies,
Vietnam Women</em>, No. 10, 1967, Xunhasaba, Hanoi 1966.)</big></p>
<big></big>
<p><big>This was just one of the stories that are passed down from
generation to generation in Vietnam about women and resistance. Even
earlier, in 40 A.D., the Trung sisters attempted to end the Chinese
feudal domination as well, leading the first national insurrection.
One of the sisters slew a killer tiger inspiring other Vietnamese to
follow her. The sisters then trained 36 women to lead an 80,000-person
army.</big></p>
<big></big>
<p><big>We left the village of Thanh Hoa and proceeded on a journey to
visit one of the ethnic minority groups, the <em>Thai Noir</em> (or
Black Thai). When we met with the medical students in Hanoi, a young <em>Thai
Noir</em> woman had presented us with flowers and we were eager to see
how her family lived. Traveling through some breathtaking landscapes,
we crossed rivers and climbed up, up, up into the mountains. Leaving
our mini-van behind, we were ferried over a river on a wooden platform,
alongside a water buffalo that was pulling a cart loaded down with big
barrels. One young man pulled out a Vietnamese musical instrument–7
thin bamboo poles of different lengths strung together–and played
sweet, haunting flute-like sounds. There was music everywhere and I
recorded it all– among the school children, of course the musicians,
and now out here, in the middle of a river, on a ferry. After
disembarking, we hiked a ways and then took a VERY narrow ferry across
the next river. It was basically about 15 or 20 thick poles of bamboo
strung together, just a bit wider than each of us. We sat on our
haunches in true Vietnamese fashion and took the short trip to the
other side.</big></p>
<big></big>
<p><big>We then entered the <em>Thai Noir</em> village. Hundreds of
people came out to greet us—men, women and children. Escorted by the
whole village over to a thatched roof house on stilts, we climbed the
stairs and were greeted by the elders of the village, two women who
were far more slender and petite than we were. We sat on mats on the
floor and exchanged greetings. They were wearing the traditional garb
of their people, bands of colorful woven material worn around their
waists. Their teeth were a brownish-red from chewing beetle nut and
they shared with us their rice wine that we sipped from a large common
jug through multiple straw-like instruments. They also offered us <em>thoch
lao</em> which seemed to us to be a mild form of marijuana. We were
told that it was mostly the elders who enjoyed <em>thoch lao</em>
these days, an interesting reversal. (Note: <em>thoch la</em> is the
word for tobacco.) They told us that the village was very excited by
our presence and very rarely had they had visitors from other
countries. In fact, the only people that looked like us had been two
Russian reporters, so most of the people believed at first that we were
Russians. A young woman from the Communist Party, not dressed in
traditional garb, served as a translator from the language of the <em>Thai
Noir</em> to the majoritarian Vietnamese language and then into
English. So the conversation proceeded quite slowly but nobody was in
a hurry and we were all delighted to be together.</big></p>
<big></big>
<p><big>We then toured the village where we saw the studios where they
wove the colorful cloth, and were entertained by several youths
drumming on large drums suspended from a pole and struck with sticks.
Here in this village, high in the mountains, we saw beautiful young
women dressed in traditional garb with rifles slung over their
shoulders. We were told that one of the tasks of the revolution was to
integrate the 60 different minorities into Vietnamese society in a way
that would preserve their culture and language, yet allow them to
advance. It may have grown out of a Marxist ideal of equality for all,
but it was also a military imperative. Discontent among some groups,
known as <em>Montignards</em>, had been exploited by the French to sow
opposition to the Communists. In this village, at this time at least,
there seemed to be cooperation between the communist government and the
Thai Noir. Again we recalled seeing Thai Noir people in Hanoi,
participating in the various groupings we had encountered, for example
the musicians and medical students.</big></p>
<big></big>
<p><big><strong>SPEAKING THE TRUTH TO THE GIs</strong></big></p>
<big></big>
<p><big>On our return to Hanoi, Judy and I addressed the American GIs
on Vietnamese radio. The station played contemporary American music
interspersed with occasional commentary. We went on the radio to
discourage the GIs from risking their life and limb in an illegal and
immoral war. There were technical challenges at the radio station.
Electricity was at a premium and every now and then it would cut out.
We were reminded how remarkable it was that an “underdeveloped” nation
with limited resources could present such a challenge to the U.S. We
learned over and over again that it was not technology but the power of
the people that was enabling them to persist.</big></p>
<big></big>
<p><big>An acquaintance of mine once admonished me as a representative
of the 60s peace movement for refusing to date returning GIs. As far
as I’m concerned those kinds of social pressures were completely
appropriate. This wasn’t a matter of rival fraternities. We were not
flippant critics of the GIs. Even though we knew most of the GIs had
been drafted, we believed that as human beings they were still
responsible for their own actions. We were children of World War II
and my own father had fought against the Nazis. Those of us who were
Jewish had lost many extended family members and knew that many German
people claimed they were “just following orders.” Taking to heart the
Nuremberg war crimes trials, we vowed that such a defense would never
again be admissible and we would never be “Good Germans” who quietly
went along with the program. Silence was complicity as well, and so we
had an obligation to speak truth to the GIs. We challenged them to ask
themselves what they were doing in a foreign land attacking a people
who had done no harm to the U.S. or to them as individuals. We
encouraged them not to suppress their own doubts about what they were
doing and not to risk their lives in an illegal and immoral war. In
general, the anti-war movement challenged the GIs, tried to offer them
options and embraced them when they resisted. Movement people provided
counseling and sanctuary, set up GI coffee houses and published
underground newspapers near the bases, in places as far away as the
Philippines.</big></p>
<big></big>
<p><big>The GIs themselves were far from passive bystanders. The
resistance within the U.S. Army as well as that of returning veterans
was one of the key elements in the anti-war movement. As early as June
of 1965 Richard Steinke, a West Point graduate, refused to board an
aircraft to a remote Vietnamese village, was court-martialed and
dismissed from service. Captain Howard Levy, an army doctor, refused
to teach the Green Berets, elite special forces. He stated that the
Green Berets were “murderers of women and children” and “killers of
peasants.” He was court-martialed and imprisoned. Susann Schnall, a
Navy nurse, was court-martialed for participating in the anti-war
movement, demonstrating in uniform and dropping leaflets from a plane
over a naval installation.</big></p>
<big></big>
<p><big>As the years went on, these individual acts turned into waves
of resistance, much of it from Black GIs who understood Muhammad Ali’s
observation that “No Vietnamese ever called me nigger.” Dr. Martin
Luther King Jr, as far back as 1967, had given a profound speech that
is little-studied today—“Beyond Vietnam. A Time to Break Silence.”
Outlining the history of the Vietnamese struggle, he stated that, “I
could never again raise my voice against the violence of the oppressed
in the ghettos without having first spoken clearly to the greatest
purveyor of violence in the world today—my own government.” A <em>Le
Monde</em> reporter wrote that, “A common sight is the black soldier,
with his left fist clenched in defiance of a war he has never
considered his own.” (Zinn, Howard, <em>A People’s History of the
United States</em>)</big></p>
<big></big>
<p><big>There were literally thousands upon thousands of desertions by
U.S. soldiers. Many went to Western Europe and even more sought asylum
in Canada. By 1970 there were also thousands of members of Vietnam
Veterans Against the War. Our radio appearance was far from a pivotal
event but we wanted to do our small part to tell the truth and to
encourage and nurture the resistance.</big></p>
<big></big>
<p><big>The night before we left Vietnam, a banquet was held in our
honor. All forms of wonderful seafood dishes appeared on our plates
and there was wine in abundance. Our hosts would have had us stay on
and see more of their country, but as wonderful as the experience was,
we were eager to get back home and on with the work of fighting against
the war. Therefore, after two amazing weeks in Vietnam, we headed back
to the States.</big></p>
<big></big>
<p><big>However, our route required us to return via Aeroflot to Moscow
and then on to the U.S. from there. In Moscow we had a single-minded
agenda. We were going to have a demonstration against the war that we
had contemplated on the way through Moscow en route to Vietnam. We
contacted all the media, particularly all the Western media, utilizing
the contacts we had made earlier, and let them know about the protest.
We tried to involve some of our Russian friends but they reiterated
their fears of repercussions. We naively said, “Yeah but this is
against the U.S., not Russia.” “You don’t understand,” they insisted,
“the Russian government does not tolerate spontaneous demonstrations of
any sort, regardless of the content.” OK, we thought, if there’s to be
a demonstration of three people, so be it. But how could we make it as
dramatic as possible? We decided to wear the black pajamas of the Viet
Cong, along with our conical hats, and carry big signs saying: “We are
the Ameri-Cong! End the war in Vietnam” and “Ho, Ho, Ho Chi Minh, the
NLF is Gonna Win.”</big></p>
<big></big>
<p><big>All the Western media turned out and the Associated Press
splashed our picture across the world in papers everywhere, well,
everywhere but Moscow. Across the street our friends watched from
semi-protected locations. And sure enough, the KGB of Russian
intelligence was there as well. As we left the scene, we were followed
for a while by a man in a green suit wearing one-way glasses. He
probably left us when we entered our hotel and got ready to leave
Moscow the next day.</big></p>
<big></big>
<p><big>Judy and I flew into Canada. Judy would stay to see her family
and I would travel on to New York. The Canadians, allegedly
politically independent of the United States, immediately confiscated
all the gifts the Vietnamese had given us. Later, thanks to some legal
action, we would recover most of them but we never did recoup our
conical hats. Subversive, damning hats!</big></p>
<big></big>
<p><big>When I disembarked from the plane in New York, I was
immediately detained, brought into a room by myself. I waited for
someone to come in and thought about what I would say. This great big,
beefy FBI agent entered the room. He looked taken aback to see this
miniature, young girl who was supposed to be some kind of threat. But
that didn’t stop him from grilling me about where I’d been. “Moscow,”
I responded. “And where else?” he retorted. “Nowhere,” said I, “you
can check my passport.” How clean it was since no one had stamped it
with any evidence of Vietnam. I feared some future ramifications but
there were none. It was the first time I traveled illegally but it
would not be the last. It’s a funny thing, I have never been to a
country where I was not welcomed, and yet I have traveled a number of
times to places my own “free” country has forbidden me to go.</big></p>
<big></big>
<p><big>The FBI intimidation could not stop me from my anti-war
activities. I was fired up and ready to go. Inspired by the
Vietnamese experience, I was more emboldened than ever to pursue an end
to the war in particular and to fight for equality and justice in all
areas of life.</big></p>
<big></big>
<p><big><em><strong>NANCY KURSHAN</strong> can be reached at:<a
href="mailto:Nkurshan@aol.com"> Nkurshan@aol.com</a> </em></big></p>
<big></big>
<p><big><strong>Notes.</strong></big></p>
<big></big>
<p><big>Eisenhower, Dwight D. <em>Mandate for Change, 1953-56.</em>
Garden City NY: Doubleday, 1963, p. 372.</big></p>
<big></big>
<p><big>Zinn, Howard. <em>A People’s History of the United States. </em>New
York: Harper&Row, 1980.</big></p>
<big></big>
<p><big>Bergman, Arlene Eisen. <em>Women of Vietnam</em>. San
Francisco: Peoples Press, 1974.</big></p>
<big></big>
<p><big>Duiker, William J. <em>Ho Chi Minh</em>. New York: Hyperion,
2000.</big></p>
<big></big>
<p><big>Sheehan, Neil. <em>The Pentagon Papers</em>. New York: Bantam
Books, 1971.</big></p>
<big></big>
<p><big>Dellinger, Dave. <em>From Yale to Jail</em>. New York:
Pantheon, 1993.</big></p>
<big></big>
<p><big>Dellinger, Dave. <em>Vietnam Revisited</em>. Boston: South
End Press, 1986.</big></p>
<big></big>
<p><big><em>Vietnam Studies</em>, <em>Vietnam Women</em>, No. 10.
Hanoi: Xunhasaba, 1967.</big></p>
<big></big></div>
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