16

“Air! Air!” the guide shouted.

With inured skill the bicycles and bundles instantly were covered with camouflage nets and all the fighters in the file hit the ground, taking cover in the leaves. The noise of whirring helicopter propellers came closer. They turned out to be observation aircraft rather than an attack formation. It was a reconnaissance mission of three choppers. Escorted by two small gunships, a camera-equipped helicopter was methodically covering that whole region of the jungle. When it came upon a clearing, the helicopter hovered in a circle for a while as if to peer down narrow paths and point its cameras under the canopy of trees on the fringes. Meantime, the gunships fired occasional bursts with their machine guns—neutralization fire.

Pham Minh was sprawled among the bushes with the other fighters. In the course of basic training at the Temporary Atwat Military School, he learned methods of concealment and survival on long marches down the Ho Chi Minh Trail. A comrade lying near him shrugged his shoulders then stuffed a red handkerchief into his own mouth. Muffled coughing followed. Taking out his canteen Pham Minh unscrewed the top and held it out to him. The man nodded in thanks and hastily gulped down a few mouthfuls.

They were marching along a mountain ridge near the Laotian border. For security reasons, the Atwat Military School was divided into two units; the basic training phase was conducted apart from more advanced training courses. The two locations were about twenty-five miles apart, making it a day-and-a-half march from one to the other. Their group was forty-eight in all, including the guide and a political officer.

The Seventieth Transport Division of the regular forces of the North Vietnamese Army was in charge of movements along the trail. At the beginning and end of each day’s march there were rest areas with food and beds and medical treatment. The group was split into three sections for the march, and each unit was spread out in a long double file, with at least fifteen feet between individuals. Before departure they scouted the immediate area and received briefings on any operations or changes of situation between there and the next stopping place. Anything unusual would delay departure until the situation could be assessed.

Not only personnel, but also ammunition, explosives, and other war materiel were constantly being moved along the Ho Chi Minh Trail. In better times, the trail had been hectic with motor vehicles coming and going, but now each segment was set up as part of a secret relay network and supplies were moved by bicycles and small carts. Vehicles were still in use only on a few stretches where the road was still intact under the cover of thick jungle.

In the first phase of basic training, the urban guerrillas of the Second and Third Special Districts mainly concentrated on military tactics and use of weapons. They were taught a range of hit-and-run tactics and various methods of urban warfare. As for firearms, the instructors showed them how to shoot, disassemble, and take care of small arms such as pistols, carbines, and automatic weapons. They also became familiarized with enemy weapons and ammunitions and learned what was known as “guerrilla cookery,” namely, how to improvise homemade weapons, bombs, booby traps, and so forth. There were demonstrations on the fuse mechanisms of time bombs and they were taught how to make detonators for plastic explosives.

They picked up a few tricks especially useful for urban fighters. For instance, if you stick a live cartridge inside the tip of a fountain pen or a ballpoint pen and rig a firing pin to the coiled spring, it makes a wonderful weapon for killing someone facing you at close range. Another item, specifically designed for attacks on buildings or vehicles, was a “guinea pig cocktail.” A mixture of two parts gasoline to three parts motor oil in a throwable container with a cotton cloth wick. The density of the oil made the inflammatory gasoline stick to the target.

They were taught how to make bombs from the empty ration tins discarded by American soldiers. You stuffed it with nails and gunpowder, sealed it with tape and stuck a detonating pin through the top. For another common booby trap, tape a grenade to a gate where the target will emerge, then connect a tripwire to the grenade pin and string it just above the ground where feet will stumble over it. They were also shown how to disarm and reuse landmines and other bombs.

The training also included doctrines and rules for planning and executing operations. For example, they learned that urban guerrillas should always plan their own safe escape before embarking on an attack. The assault should be rehearsed and the target and scene carefully observed and confirmed two or three times before proceeding. Be inconspicuous. On the street, keep away from the curb. Avoid telephone contacts if possible. Never discuss politics. Have a job. Spend breaks reading quietly instead of drinking or playing games. Be wary of fellow workers. Arrange all meetings with a fallback procedure. Select the targets that are easiest, most accessible, and most concrete. The rules were so many and so detailed that it was impossible to remember them all.

The second phase of training was political education and propaganda tactics. Until the early sixties, all guerrillas received four to six months of special indoctrination in Suanmai near Hanoi or in Thanh Hóa in the south before being shipped to Binh to finish the course at Dong Hoi Military Camp. But as the American forces increased in strength and the NLF forces suffered greater losses, the length of training had been drastically shortened.

In the period from the start of training until the first infiltration mission, at least a quarter of their military strength was lost, mainly from air bombardment and diseases in the jungle. Small-scale camps for training guerrillas for the central Vietnam theater were now scattered throughout the highland jungle in the region of the Atwat Mountains. The trail guides were mostly local natives of the highland country. They led the troop contingents for about half a day and then turned them over to the next guide and returned to their base. In this way, communications passed quickly and each base point had an idea what was happening elsewhere through the comings and goings of the guides. Radio equipment was rare, so for signaling they made do with whistles and woodblocks.

Upon setting off on the march, each guerrilla trainee was issued a backpack with food for three days and a little first-aid kit. The backpacks were no more than rubber bags with cloth flaps. Their equipment consisted of two sets of black civilian clothing, a pair of Ho Chi Minh sandals, a sweater, a hammock with a mosquito net, a camouflage waterproof cape for the rain, one rifle, a hundred cartridges, and two hand grenades. But upon reaching their destination at the training camp, they had to turn in everything they’d been issued. Pham Minh’s group was scheduled for only a short march, so they had not been given any heavy equipment.

The sound of two wooden blocks striking together rang out. Pham Minh got up from the ground, his chest completely soaked. Through the leaves the sky looked torn into palm-sized patches. The jungle air was like steam inside a pressure cooker. Because of the humid heat and the malaria-bearing mosquitoes, after five days of marching along the trail there had to be a two-day rest. Pham Minh looked about at his comrades as they got to their feet and back into line. Nobody spoke. They’d been instructed to march in silence.

Upon receiving a hand signal from the point, the unit leader sent back the message, quietly ordering “March.”

Once again they started walking down the trail that was about ten feet in width. Each of the three units in their group had been given five heavily loaded bicycles they were responsible for delivering to the next point. By transporting these supplies as they relocated, the trainees were fulfilling a dual role. They were also resupplying the rural guerrillas with artillery—rockets, mortar shells, grenades, and landmines. As long as this supply line remained intact, there would be attacks every night. For each bicycle, three men took turns pushing.

There was a unit of men, wearing outfits like their own, coming down the trail towards them from the opposite direction. Judging from their red neckerchiefs, they must have been new NLF recruits, either in training or having just completed indoctrination. They looked worn-out and exhausted. One of them was being carried on a stretcher. Sick with malaria, probably. Most likely they would leave him with the medics at one of the rest camps. But that was only possible on the trail, and if you came down with malaria after you’ve infiltrated the enemy zone, you were more likely to be left to die. Down in the forests and up in the skies overhead there were American search-and-destroy units scanning the terrain.

They had passed beyond the end of the main trail after the midday meal and were descending down the endless south slope of the mountains. Laos was across the ridge. Before them a vast jungle was spread out with no trace of human habitation. The second-phase Atwat school was hidden in a valley along a stream. Nothing of it was visible from the air, but as they approached they could see a rather spacious clearing and under the jungle canopy a row of barracks with earthen walls and roofs of thatched palm fronds. There was also a solid-looking brick building with olive green walls and a roof camouflaged with foliage from banana and palm trees. It might have once been a plantation run by the French. There were rows of rubber trees along the stream.

After roll call the group had a late-afternoon dinner. The food there was better than in basic training. They were served canned fish, pork broth, and rice. Here they had a hospital, a reading room, and even a few recreation facilities for table tennis and volleyball. The trainees were assigned bunks in the barracks and issued textbooks that they were to study over the next four weeks.

The last group had finished training and departed two days earlier. The only sleeping gear they were given to use with the bamboo bunks was a single sheet. The ten women in their group were quartered separately in the main barracks. All the instructors were middle-aged NLF veterans. A few of them had been liberation fighters in the old days with the Viet Minh movement against the French. The political commissar in charge of their indoctrination was a North Vietnamese army regular, a lieutenant.

They had one day of rest, when they could sleep and wash their clothes. Pham Minh lay down on his bunk and looked through the study texts. They consisted of a pamphlet entitled “Proclamation to Patriotic Youths,” taken from Mao Zedong’s Strategic Theory of Endurance, and a small booklet with excerpts from Liberation War and the People’s Army by Vo Nguyen Giap, August Revolution by Truong Chinh, and The Road to Revolution by Ho Chi Minh, as well as abridgements of the classic texts of Marx and Lenin.

A liberation war is a protracted struggle and a difficult war, and we must rely mainly upon ourselves. For we are politically strong but materially weak, while the enemy is politically weak but materially strong. Guerrilla warfare is an expedient that enables the people of a weak and under-equipped country to hold out against invaders who have the advantage of a higher grade of technology. If we consider revolution as a form of art, then its crucial content lies in generating a form of struggle that fits the political situation at each stage of the struggle. At the beginning, our main mission was political struggle and the armed struggle was secondary. Step by step, however, each has acquired equal importance until armed struggle at last has reached a level where it now plays a leading role in the revolution.

Do not attempt to achieve too many goals. Do not disrupt the existing social structure; instead, make use of it. Even if it is an organized cell of the enemy’s power, do not destroy but rather accept it. To combat a power that is too enormous and strong for us to destroy, make use of it by amorphous combinations. Then, if necessary, disintegrate its leadership and absorb the followers into the Front’s organizations.

While working in secret, use all conceivable means to undermine the enemy organization, but always remain outwardly rational concerning questions of power sharing with the enemy. Certain attitudes should not be displayed openly. Make a strict distinction between open and secret parts of our organization and minimize the traffic between the two. The important mission of the open division is to promote the support of the vast common mass, while the mission of the secret division is the accumulation and seizure of political power.

Do not hesitate to interpret the ideology of the revolution in any way deemed advantageous. Do not reveal the concept of the class struggle except to key cadres. If possible, avoid provoking animosity from anyone. In this way, the formation of opposition forces can be preempted in advance.

Bear in mind the circumstance that in Vietnam altruism is seldom encountered, and therefore combine the materialistic foundations of Communism with egocentric sentiments of democracy in an appropriate manner. Success or failure is all, victories, albeit minor, must be won through ideology, but the greater triumph must be won through nationalism. In the end we must prevail and be victorious not as Communists but as nationalists.

Use the countryside as the base for your struggle and later extend the struggle into the cities. In the country the political opportunities are greater and the risk smaller. Do not succumb to the temptations of city life. But forge an alliance between country and city by cultivating strong solidarity between peasants and workers.

Proceed with tasks from the small to the large, and from the particular to the general. Proceed from a small and safe region to liberate a larger district, and then expand the liberated zone further. Begin the struggle with a movement on a small scale, then escalate the struggle and seize command of power in the end.

Pham Minh gazed out at the stream and the grove of rubber trees. There was no gunfire and no sound of explosions. He heard the laughter of women playing volleyball. The foliage was quaking in the strong breeze sweeping down through the valley. The palm leaves on the roof flapped occasionally. For a moment he felt as though what he experienced at Atwat over the past month was not real. There were about twenty of them sharing the same living quarters, from all walks of life and with ages ranging from the early twenties to the mid-thirties. They knew each other by name, but were not allowed to discuss personal histories. All were healthy and had hearty appetites, and even before starting this second-phase political training, each of them had their own firm opinions about the problems besetting the Vietnamese people.

Their attitudes and views could be divided into three categories. The first included those who embraced an unmitigated communist ideology, with thought patterns oriented by their parents or relatives. Usually their families had taken part in the anti-French liberation movement before the Geneva Accords or had chosen to relocate to the north. They were youths like Thanh. The second category consisted of people burning with vengeful hatred after losing family members during the operations by the American forces or the ARVN. The third included those who had suffered agony and deserted the ARVN and joined the NLF or, like Pham Minh, those whose abstract passion for nationalism had been grievously disillusioned by the reality of South Vietnam. Those in the first two categories posed no special ideological problems, but conflicts in opinion were almost inevitable between the first category and those like Pham Minh. The divergences in views of the reality of their predicament grew more noticeable as the political training progressed.

They all got up at six in the morning and walked along the stream for an hour before having breakfast at seven. The meal was not bad. The Viet Cong brought less food with them on marches than the Americans or the ARVN. Arms and ammunition took priority over other supplies. But they had white rice on the table, along with fresh vegetables from farms on the Laotian side of the mountains. Every now and then they had pork or duck. Once every three days each barracks received a ration of tobacco and green tea from Hanoi. On Sundays when there was no training they even watched films.

Classes were conducted mainly in the morning, with group discussions of the pamphlets they had been issued. They were given lectures on such topics as the history of communism in Vietnam, modern Vietnamese history, the history of world revolution, the December Theses and the strategy of the National Liberation Front, and so on. After lunch there was a siesta hour and then presentations of examples of incitement propaganda, followed by group discussions. After that they had a briefing with current reports from the NLF on the conditions and deployments of security forces in the Second and Third Districts, as well as on the enemy’s firepower and organization.

Next, their prior training in handling weapons and explosives was extended by live ammunition drills and exercises, including war games in the jungle valley nearby. After dinner, each group assembled for further discussion to review the day’s activities. Sometimes they also made up short dramas depicting the present reality of Vietnam, which were presented to the others for evaluation. Lights out was ten o’clock.

Pham Minh did not stand out as a trainee. But one evening during an ideology discussion session he made a mistake, and it led to an auto-critique. That afternoon they had heard a lecture on the strategy and tactics of the NLF. The instructor, Dao Nguyen Lin, was an old veteran of the anti-imperialist movement, and formerly a middle-school teacher. He also had been a key cadre in charge of guerrilla commandos in Saigon at the time of the downfall of Ngo Dinh Diem. In his lecture, he had said:

“Urban guerrillas and rural guerrillas can be distinguished from each other by the scenarios and tactics of their struggles. In rural communities, the aim of military operations is to attempt to place the people under the command and control of the Liberation Front. Rural areas are important both as sources of supply and as strategic sanctuaries where our forces can hide out after hitting targets in the vicinity. Furthermore, with the same strength we can exercise power over a broader domain in a rural area, where security systems are less concentrated than in the cities.

“As stated in the thesis published in Hoc Tap in 1965, our special aim is to paralyze the administrative system of the enemy. Thus, the goal of urban guerrillas is to weaken the government through violence, establish an alternative order in the city, and spread the paralysis. Activate the dormant sentiments of nationalism in city dwellers. In the city, the enemy is very powerful and the mass is well under control. Therefore, the urban struggle must be unforeseeable and fast. Strike, run, and hide.

“Hence, the aim and targets can largely be divided in two, and then again subdivided into three. First are government agencies or figures against which the people have grievances. Second are government agencies or figures who are competent and admired by the people. Targeting the former is obvious enough, but at first glance it may be difficult to grasp why the latter would be targeted. If a certain feature of the enemy system we aim to destroy happens to cater to the wishes of the masses, then it is very dangerous. For what is sweet can mask poison. By attacking it, we kill two birds with one stone. The people will see that their competence, after all, was merely competence in maintaining a colonial reality; and the enemy will be warned that no move is safe.

“When the targets are again subdivided on the above principle, the first objective for attack would be the army of the imperialists and their facilities. The second is that part of the security system of the enemy which lies closest and most readily accessible. And the third would be all individuals and facilities whose sympathies are with the enemy. I’ll illustrate with a few examples. In June 1965 a bomb exploded at a restaurant in downtown Saigon. American soldiers were killed and their bodies carried into the street and heaped up. And even more corpses were buried under the destroyed tables and chairs. The total casualties were one hundred twenty. The Liberation Front proclaimed this victory far and wide. In October of the same year, when the South Vietnamese Air Force was holding a meeting in City Hall, a hand grenade exploded resulting in six deaths and forty-five wounded.

“The embassy attack in March of the following year exhibited a new dimension of our tactics. A car stopped outside a main gate. It appeared to have some sort of engine problem. One of the three policemen standing guard approached the car and ordered the driver to stop obstructing a busy street and immediately move the car out of the way. The driver groveled, saying the engine was dead. Irritated, the policeman told him to push the car out of the way if he had to. He pretended to push it, and just then a motorbike sped up and the rider took out a machine gun and shot the policeman. Then, as the other two policemen returned fire, men inside the car shot them. All the guerrillas then fled across the street and the car, heavily loaded with plastic explosives, went off in a huge blast. A large area was leveled. Then, in June, passenger luggage exploded while awaiting inspection in the lobby at Tan Son Nhat Airport.”

It was then that Pham Minh raised his hand. The instructor gave him a puzzled look, but Pham Minh wanted to wash away a feeling of oppression he had been carrying with him ever since his student days in Hue.

“I have a few questions, sir. During the last offensive I was in Hue. Of course, I think the occupation of Hue by the Liberation Front was a brilliant victory. I have no doubt whatsoever that it advanced the national struggle. A lot of our fellow countrymen were killed. But, a few days earlier, I saw a bomb go off in front of the inter-city bus terminal in Hue. The target seemed to be the waiting room of a nearby police checkpoint, but buses standing nearby were destroyed. I saw four children’s bloody corpses thrown on the concrete, and women drenched in blood were wailing . . .”

“Hold it, hold it . . .”

Dao, the instructor, stopped Pham Minh and in an icy voice asked, “So, what you’re trying to say is that innocent women and children died?”

“That’s, that’s right, sir. I do acknowledge, of course, that such things happen in war. But you were talking, sir, about the various examples of military force used by urban action groups, and I’ve been wondering if terror is something tactical or political, or both. If it kills innocent Vietnamese children, what political significance does it have? If such things are avoidable, should we not go to great lengths to avoid them?”

The instructor looked around at all the trainees before he answered.

“An important point. In the instances I spoke of, I did not mention casualties among innocent civilians. Sometimes the damage can be worse than that inflicted by the enemy. Generally speaking, during an urban military action, the citizens will face a risk of injury or death that is two or three times greater than the enemy forces. However, our Liberation Front considers that all our people, whether they want to or not, are participants in this struggle on a national scale. They died in action for the sake of a new history in Vietnam.”

“What I’m saying is . . . that it can be avoided, sir.”

“All around us the enemy is slaughtering countless numbers of our fellow countrymen through aerial bombing and assault campaigns.”

In spite of himself, Pham Minh went ahead with an impassioned outburst. “Because they are the enemy! We are here to save Vietnam!”

“Violence is the worst evil in times of peace. But in the present reality, violence to destroy violence is necessary.”

“Sir, I’m not talking about the ethical standard of violence.”

“Your opinion is full of liberal sentimentalism. Revolutions are not fought in fairy tales.”

Pham Minh was about to say something more when his comrade sitting beside him tugged at his sleeve. Pham Minh turned to look at him. Once during the march, Pham Minh had helped him reach the next rest camp when he was lagging behind. He was a boyish youth from Da Nang, about two years his junior. Only then did Pham Minh realize that everybody in the group was staring at him. He silenced himself. At the end of the session, he was brought before the political officer. The officer told him to sit down and that he had heard what happened from Dao, then the discussion began again.

“I’m sure you know very well without my quoting the words of the Chairman. Our Motherland today is entering into an anti-colonial struggle. In the midst of this, we also have to engage in class struggle. Two very heavy burdens are on our shoulders. On the one hand it is a civil war, but at the same time we must fight against a foreign power. This is not a world of classical revolution where aims were unclouded, like France, where the world of the masses was easily distinguished from the world of the aristocrats at Versailles. We must free ourselves from the oppression of the colonialists and at the same time fight the disease in ourselves that is obstructing liberation.

“That an innocent Vietnamese child was killed by a guerrilla’s bomb is irrelevant. The point is, the enemy dies. That the child also died was a coincidence, but to therefore call the act evil, that’s an absolute ethical stance that transcends the social situation. That cannot exist. We cannot use ethical persuasion to make the enemy retreat. Therefore, the proper ethic for today is to amass all strength so that the enemy is forced to withdraw. To have the children of Vietnam, who have been brought up poorly educated and hungry, grow up happy and healthy, is also included in this scheme of ours. As a means to that end, those Vietnamese children inevitably sacrificed by our violence have actually dedicated their lives for the cause of our revolution.”

“I, too, know the contentions of Trotsky and Kautsky from reading. I shall, of course, fight against the enemy. But, I can tell you now, I did not join the Liberation Front as a communist. When peace arrives here in the future, I’ll live my life as a doctor, treating people’s diseases. I volunteered to give myself as an NLF fighter in order to advance the dream of our nation, but I am not a Marxist. If it’s mandatory that I adhere to that ideology, I’ll try . . . but . . .”

The political officer shook his head. “No, the Liberation Front is a united front. It does, however, intend to have a certain unified logic of its own for the fortification of combat strength.”

After Pham Minh left, the officer called in the cell leader from his barracks and ordered him to continue discussing the problems with Pham Minh through the end of training. He also added that everyone in Vietnam, including the fighters, had to carry out a class struggle against colonial elements within their own selves. He then wrote down his opinion in the records of training evaluation.

“Pham Minh, Da Nang native who was medical student at Hue, has many problems as a guerrilla. But he is honest. Before assigning him any leadership responsibility for missions, it is advisable to give him tasks as assistant agent. His petite bourgeois background and his brother Pham Quyen’s position as chief adjutant to General Liam will make him useful for service in Da Nang. Assigning him as a supply agent is considered highly appropriate. Other possibilities are contact agent, tax collector, or procurement agent. Continuous supervision will be necessary.”