3

A Mighty Python

THEY HAD COME on the run, some shouting party slogans, mostly men but also women, most of them young, by the thousands. They poured across the city’s many bridges, through the fortress gates, swarmed up the wider avenues, and fanned out into side streets. Along the rivers and canals they came on sampans. The banks on the outskirts of the city were littered with the small plastic and bamboo rafts they had used to float their weapons and ammo across. They came on motorbikes and in Jeeps, the NVA in their clean, new green uniforms, the VC in khakis or worn black pajamas. All were armed.

Most believed they had come to stay. They were true believers, picturing the scenes in Hue playing out at the same time in cities throughout South Vietnam, the war’s great and final act.

Liberation Radio, the voice of Hanoi, had broadcast throughout the country an appeal—and a warning:

Compatriots, the hour to wash away our national dishonor and to liberate ourselves has come. Everybody must rise up and launch attacks against the hideouts of the Thieu-Ky clique [Ky was Vice President Nguyen Cao Ky] and topple the traitorous and sell-out government in various areas. We must set up at once a revolutionary government, build various revolutionary armed forces and patriotic organizations. Punish and arrest all the cruel lackeys of the Thieu-Ky clique and foreign nations, and help the revolutionary armed forces fulfill their duties.

We exhort the officers, soldiers, and the police forces of the Saigon regime to side with the ranks of the people and give their arms and ammunition to the revolutionary armed forces.

We exhort all those who have been going astray to quickly wake up. Those who recognize their faults and are willing to accomplish an exploit will be forgiven by the revolution. Those who willingly resist the revolution will be duly punished . . .

. . . Compatriots, we want to be delivered from slavery and from the dictatorial and ruthless regime. We do not want unemployment and bankruptcy. We do not want our national aspirations to be thwarted. We are determined to achieve our goals at any cost . . .

. . . Let’s go forward together! The revolution will certainly be crowned with success! Long live an independent, democratic, peaceful, and neutral South Vietnam!24

They had suffered losses at the Citadel gates and around Mang Ca, and some around the MACV compound, but otherwise the city had miraculously dropped into their hands. Le Tu Minh, their overall commander, estimated it had taken only about three hours. One VC battalion, making its way up Ly Thuong Kiet Street, which angled northwest through the center of the triangle, surprised six city policemen sitting in two cars. One of the cops, seeing uniformed men approaching, waved and called them over, evidently taking them for ARVN. The cops were placed in custody. They said most of their department had gone home for the holiday.25

The Front’s primary command center was in the village of La Chu, to the northwest, but the field headquarters for Hue were set up in the ornate Tu Dam Pagoda, a famous seventeenth-century orange-brick, seven-story tower in the city’s far southwest. The historical value of the pagoda meant it was unlikely to be bombed. Having taken the city, the leaders gathered there that morning to begin planning its defense. Despite their broad and rapid success, they foresaw trouble. In their excitement, the Front’s legions had used prodigious amounts of ammo. They would need more fire discipline, and resupply became a big priority. Le sent an urgent request to Hanoi for more bullets. Having failed to take General Truong’s relatively weak position with an all-out surprise attack, they were unlikely to do so now before he was reinforced. Likewise with the MACV compound, which by the end of the day would have doubled its defenses. Both were opportunities lost, but if things went well, they would not matter. He urged his men to press their attacks on the prison and to seize the Phu Cam Church, a Catholic center he said “would make trouble for us.” He predicted that the American counterattack, when it came, would be difficult to withstand. Any plans for withdrawal, he advised, should be kept from the people, who then would be discouraged from rising up.26

Coming from this meeting, Major Than Trong Mot, the southern area commander, was invited to a celebratory feast at an elementary school by one of his battalions, flush with triumph. They had placed cafeteria tables end to end and covered them with white cloth. The long display was heaped with food “donated” by local residents. Another smaller table was filled with wine bottles that had also been “contributed.”

Mot raised his walking stick and smashed at the wine bottles, berating his hosts and telling them to get back to their fighting positions.

“The upcoming fight will be your party!” he shouted.27

On the steps of the Ben Ngu Market, at the western edge of the triangle, Nguyen Dinh Bay (who went by the name Bay Khiem), the newly anointed head of security for southern Hue, made a speech to residents who had been assembled for the purpose. He was a middle-aged former railroad worker from Hue with a large family back in Hanoi, and he choked up as he pointed to the Alliance flag. He urged the people to help, to protect, and to support the liberation soldiers, and to assist with preparations for the coming American and nguy counterattack. He promised good things for those who did, and warned against failing to do so. He pleaded for them not to “disappoint the people.” Propaganda leaflets were distributed. The crowd’s response disappointed him. They listened quietly, as if receiving instructions. There was no cheering or applause. Then they returned to their homes.28

The South Vietnamese broadcast their own messages. Since the Front did not have planes or helicopters, even when they owned the ground they never owned the air above it. From a loudspeaker in an ARVN plane came the message that an enemy battalion had been defeated and its commander, Lieutenant Tang Van Mieu, captured.

Tang was standing with a group of his officers when the plane flew over. One reached out slowly and touched his arm, as if making sure he was still there. The others got a good laugh out of it.

Tang was, in fact, just arriving in the city with his battalion after getting lost early in the morning. He was just twenty-five, but he was a popular leader: charismatic, capable, and well-known. He had six years of experience fighting in Laos.29 A tiny man, when gathered with his subordinate officers he looked like a boy giving orders to men. Although he and his troops had undergone weeks of political training, learning how to deal with city residents and to organize them into fighting units,30 he had not helped create the broad design of the offensive. His thinking focused only on completing his mission. As he marched his men toward the city, he had been given three envelopes to be opened in sequence on appointed days. It was not until the last one, which he opened on Tet Eve, that he even knew their objective was the city. His battalion would play a central role in defending what the Front had just taken.

Radio broadcasts from Hanoi proclaimed the establishment of a new revolutionary government in Hue.

“Many people in Hue have come out openly to denounce the ­American-Thieu clique,” the announcer said. Another broadcaster said, “We have started the fight, we are winning it, and we will completely win it.” Clandestine broadcasts called on the population to rise up and join “the long-awaited general offensive.”31

A broadcasting tower was erected at the post office inside the Citadel and speeches by cadre commissars blasted from it. In a northern accent that was distinct to Hue ears, one speaker proclaimed the city’s “liberation.” He warned that the Americans were “very stubborn,” so to preserve their emancipation the people would have to rise up.32

There was enough positive response to these exhortations to thrill the poet/propagandist Nguyen Dac Xuan. He would later liken the army descending noiselessly from the hills to a “mighty python.” He had arrived so soon after the breaching of Chanh Tay Gate that spent shells on the ground were hot under his sandals. He had expected to encounter heavy fire, perhaps even to be sacrificed, but no one shot at him as they entered. They passed through smoke and mist, past comrades killed in the initial assault, then past the bodies of ARVN soldiers. Xuan restrained an impulse to kneel and kiss the ground.

He saw signs of triumph everywhere. The streets teemed with armed fighters in their various uniforms. Those who were without new uniforms, or who had just stepped up to join the struggle, wrapped red bandannas around their heads or wore them loosely around their necks. Like him, most were young: Vietnam’s youth had seized their fate, their future! For some of the VC veterans who had been in exile there were tearful reunions with their families and friends. The flag at Ngo Mon was especially meaningful to Xuan. The pole there had been a familiar reference point for him as a child. He had learned to tell the time of day by the position of the sun against it. Now the very sky seemed written with their victory.33

There was no sun this morning, just a brighter shade of gray. Xuan considered the new flag the first thing he’d encountered on Tet, and its portent could not have been more powerful. It foretold not just a great year but his nation’s entire future. He was sure of it. His dreams were fulfilled. He would remember it as the happiest day of his young life. And he believed those feelings were widely shared. They stirred in the breast of every loyal soul in his liberated city. The strings of the puppet master had been cut! The people had triumphed!

He jumped into a commandeered ARVN Jeep with a comrade, and they drove toward his old neighborhood, which was near the Thuong Tu Gate. Eager to see his parents again, he anticipated a hero’s welcome. Some who had known him were shocked to see him with the Front forces. As a member of the Buddhist movement years earlier, he had rejected Communism as forcefully as he did the Saigon government. He had been so devoted to his faith that at the height of the crackdown he had joined a “suicide squad.” But Xuan in his shorts and black shirt and red armband, while still considering himself a Buddhist, was now first and foremost a disciple of Uncle Ho.34 As he came closer to his old neighborhood he started to recognize some of the young men in the street. They wore red to show their support. He had not known them to be active in the revolution, but they now embraced him like a comrade. They had seen the light! One said there were rumors he had been killed, so it was as if he had returned from the dead. Xuan felt like he was dreaming.

But he also began to notice that the windows and doors of most homes were tightly shut. Some had hung flags to show their support for the victors—the North Vietnam red flag with a yellow star at the center, or Buddhist flags with six vertical stripes of blue, yellow, red, white, and orange to show their long-standing opposition to the Saigon regime—but there was little overt display. People seemed wary. The city’s electricity and power had been cut off and water had to be collected from wells and springs, so there were people on the streets. But those Xuan saw avoided him and hurried about their business. The disciplined NVA battalions had already begun digging foxholes and trenches, and were erecting barricades across roadways. As they drove, Xuan used a megaphone to encourage people to come out. Those who had been working for the puppet regime would be welcomed and treated equally, he promised. If they had committed crimes and sincerely repented, they would be forgiven. They would be given a chance to perform heroic deeds to repay the people for their crimes. Xuan and his comrade stopped outside the royal palace, where the comrade gave a speech. A small crowd gathered. He said they would form a new government, and that the people would be allowed to choose their own leaders. He warned of the coming counterattack and encouraged residents to begin digging personal shelters under their homes.35

But Xuan felt in his bones that there would be no counterattack. The will of the people, once they were organized and instructed properly, would sweep everything before it. They would, in the coming days, shepherd forth such a wall of support that no power on earth could break it. Washington and Saigon with their armies and bombers and warships would simply back away in wonder. They would sue for peace.