The Ugly American

Chapter 1 What was it about Vietnam that drove my Dad to take an assignment there? Of all the places in the world he could have worked in the mid 50’s, this hidden hot spot was inconceivable. He told me, “Everything was so intense, the tastes seemed unique and even the rain was mesmerizing! Not like the angry rain in Minneapolis.” My Dad gave me an ear full when I arrived home, soon after landing in San Diego. This was a welcome break from the chaos experienced during my cruise on the USS Brandywine, conducting flight operations into North Vietnam from the South China Sea. He continued, “Once in the country, everyone who lasted there, stressed the wealth of experiences that could be found. They told me when you arrive in Vietnam, you immediately understand the allure!” Once he got started, he would continue to expound about his love for that period of his life. My visit home gave me some time to research how we got embroiled in the fight to control Vietnam’s destiny. It appeared that successive American governments had sunk deeper and deeper into the vortex of covert operations—presumably to fight terrorism and communism—where we lost sight of our democratic ideals. Without delving into the slide over 200 years of history, it appeared that our choices were driven by the continuation of a process that subverted democracy to protect the Anglo-American settler elite. Once our portion of North America was secured, we set our sights on the Pacific region. Even though both Korea and Vietnam had developed strong independence movements, the US made the sad decision to support the French after they were defeated by Ho Chi Minh’s forces. Unfortunately, my Dad became ensnared in the inexorable slide into our current war. My Dad learned that Vietnam experience must be lived and explained, “It’s was the smell that hits you first, quickly followed by oppressive heat. Fortunately, during most nights, there was a relieving breeze and the lush surroundings muffled the periodic sounds of war.” It was great to be able to take some leave soon after my arrival back in the States from Vietnam in November, 1966. It was during this visit, Dad told me the full story of his life in Vietnam. One of the first people I met in Saigon took place during a visit to the Majestic Hotel. He was sitting at opposite end of the bar and walked over to introduce himself saying, “Hello, you must be an American; I’m Tom Dewey. May I join you? Yanks are few and far between around here!” A nod was my first response. We shook hands and his grasp, nearly crushed my knuckles. After a long pause, I said, “My name is Barkley Landsdown; what brought you to this God forsaken place?” It was a shock a few months later when everything changed and nothing could be the same again. Around midnight, there was a knock at my door. The local police inspector apologized for disturbing me but he needed to ask me a few questions about Tom Dewey. He said, “What was Mr. Dewey’s business in Vietnam?” “Well he was a bit of a mystery to me; he’s from the US and he did mention he worked for USAID. He was one of the good guys. Why are you asking questions about him; has something happened?” “Well, unfortunately, he has been killed. The preliminary investigation indicates that he either misunderstood or disobeyed the command of a Vietnamese MP at a check point and they shot him. Did you know him well enough to handle the identification?” During a long pause, my knees became a bit shaky before my weak response, “He was...a, a friend but he did cause problems. When would you like me to view him; is there anything else?” “No but you can come to identify the body tomorrow morning.” “That will work; have you told his girl-friend? If not, leave that to me.” “Could you, please?” Because the night was still young, there was still time to find Huong at her favorite dance hall and tell her the sad news. When told, she was devastated and went home to be with her mother. Dewey was insatiable and sucked up everything he could learn about Vietnam. The country’s fight for independence fascinated him. It seemed strange at times but most of us wrote this off as excessive curiosity. He quizzed me saying, “Why are the French getting beat; are the commies better soldiers? Communism must be contained....They must be defeated or the dominos will continue to fall!” “Unfortunately, my understanding of events going on these days are limited, it’s a mystery to me.” Looking at me out of the corner of his eye he asked, “Enough of me, what are you doing here?” “I’m conducting a research study on the evolution of Vietnamese culture.” He continued, “You must have some idea on possible paths out this mess. My hope is that I can help these people. Liberty is the greatest gift we can give to this country.” “You do understand that liberty is mostly a concept held by our western culture. Can you define it for them?” He looked surprised while saying, “Everyone in any country understands what it liberty means, for example, freedom to choose.” “So the Vietnamese choose Ho Chi Minh and what happens?” He continues, “Well, the world gets complicated at times but basic principles endure! Woh, what was that?” “A grenade exploded.” “Are you sure; maybe it’s just a truck popping off?” Sounding tired, I said, “You’re a greenhorn but you will soon recognize the difference.” He seemed to have reached his limit and began to leave saying, “Let’s do dinner sometime soon; it’s been a pleasure meeting and chatting with you. Cheers!” Trying to sound sincere, responded, “Anytime; you let me know time and place.” He gave me a wave as he left. My CIA manager had alerted me to keep an eye out for members of the company who wanted to have the US take over pacification of Vietnam from the French. Many of us still believed that the Vietnamese should control their own destiny. We were swimming against the current and falling back fast yet still believed we could turn the tide. It remained an uphill battle against the political winds gusting from Washington! My dad became seriously sad at this point in his story. He could foresee the terrible conflagration we had to endure and now his son was reaping the results of his sad tidings!