Cu Chi Tunnels

When we took off from Da Nang for Ho Chih Minh City on Vietjetair, the American pilot of the low-cost flight introduced himself.  Thien sat next to us intently reading a business book by Richard Branson.  Bien, our guide for the afternoon had a ring tone that played Madonna's "La Isla Bonita."  Would "Uncle" have approved?

We headed directly to the Cu Chi tunnels which enabled the Viet Cong to spring a surprise attack on Saigon during the Tet Offensive in January 1968.  My mother and I watched Walter Cronkite every night fearing for my father's life.  The tunnel isn't far from the muddy Saigon River that we had seen from the plane.

The small museum at the site's entrance displayed American bomb casings.

Bien was eight during Tet.  His family, which had a wagon load of watermelons to celebrate the Vietnamese New Year, took shelter in a hospital.  He vividly recalled the events I had seen only in brief television footage.  

Here a man demonstrates how easily the Viet Cong concealed themselves.  They were equally skilled at hiding booby traps, a form of guerrilla warfare that did as much psychological as physical damage to US troops.

Women fought as fiercely as the men.

Brett, the American Millennial, faced off with a captured tank for his Instagram story.  He and Nikolai, the Dane, also fired AK47s and machine guns for hefty fees ($25 American). The tunnel compound is the only place in Viet Nam where civilians can display such faux machismo.  Milk those tourists!

The ubiquitous rubber tire sandals, also available in kiddie Cong size.

The tour included the opportunity to crawl through a 100 meter stretch of the tunnel, with two, evenly spaced escape hatches.  Determined to test my mettle, I entered first along with five other members of the Sticky Rice Crew.

I duck walked 30 meters to the first escape hatch.  The guide, whose outline barely can be seen here, asked me if I wanted to continue.  I nodded but completed the rest of hot, claustrophobic journey on my hands and knees.

Only Nikolai, who was about to celebrate his 40th birthday, and I made it to the end.

Thien had warned us the 60 kilometer trip back to Saigon's First District might take as long as four hours because of traffic.  He wasn't kidding.

It was well past 7 p.m. by the time we checked into the Hotel Continental, built in the late 19th century.  The protagonist of "The Quiet American," published in 1955, kept a room there as did the author.  My father patronized the bar during his Saigon tour.

Aside from the use of key cards and the installation of "bum guns," I don't think it has been updated since then.

Thom and I headed to the EON Heli Bar, on the 51st floor of the Bitexco Financial Tower, for a drink.  The overpriced cocktails came with a fabulous view of the light show on the Times Square Hotel.  Uh, who won the war?  Certainly not the Communists!