Occasionally I come across some things that are just almost too much to bear. I had touched on the subject very briefly in a previous article, but something triggered a deeper look, and I reached into things that, for me, are just not knowable. It’s an extraordinary feeling to come across things, places, and people that were once a part of a place and time that was the very definition of hell. And even more incredible that in a time that I can in some way reach back into the past. Knowing Bình Định Province, the province which the district of An Lão, where my wife’s family is from, is in central Vietnam.
There had to be information about the Valley during the war years. It was too close to the DMZ not to have been heavily involved in the war. A war often referred to here as the American war. There is much written about Da Nang. It was the HQ for most operations and home to Da Nang airfield. Both a civilian airport and military airbase. The busiest airport in the world at the height of the war. In 1968 Da Nang airfield reached nearly 67,000 daily takeoffs and landings. To compare, the most active airport/airfield in the world today, Hartsfield-Jackson in Atlanta, Georgia, USA, averages just under 30,000 a day.
The Battle of An Lão
An Lão sits about 100 miles from Da Nang Airfield and 200 miles from the DMZ by helicopter. So the Valley was a heavily contested piece of real estate during the war years. There is a paragraph on a Wikipedia page about a significant battle in the An Lão valley between December 7 and 9, 1964. You can find that here, though I’ll spare you the trouble and give you the synopsis. But it’s hard to find out much more. On December seven, the Viet Cong made an ultimately fruitless attempt to capture the district capital at An Lão from the South Vietnamese Army. Then, as dawn broke over the mountains that surround the Valley, the first VC wave scaled the fences in the cover of the shadowless pre-dawn hours.
Their primary objective was to disable the heavy gun positions around the base. A second wave followed, and in the element of surprise, the VC took control of the base. The Southern Army immediately regrouped and counterattacked. A stalemate lasted two days until US cavalry and reinforcements arrived on December 9 and retook the Valley. 300 South Vietnamese Soldiers were killed or wounded. 2 Americans lost their lives in the An Lão valley on December 9, 1964. The VC casualties are unknown. It was a Sunday.
The Aftermath of the Battle
The Valley would prove to be an irritation for the Top Brass of the American forces. The Air Cav would expend many resources in keeping the Valley in allied hands over the coming years. But the struggle seemed to be a persistent itch that couldn’t seem to be scratched. Finally, almost three years after the original battle, it was decided to change tactics. That is when Richard “Deacon” Lewis Dieterle and First Platoon made their way into the Valley. It isn’t easy to either read or imagine the poignant landscape Dieterle describes. I’ve been everywhere around the Valley. It is hard to believe the picture the Deacon paints of the now prosperous rice cultivating, quiet, beautiful, and pastoral Valley.
“A” Company drops into the valley by Helicopter
Excerpt from LZ Mustang "OCTOBER, 1967 — We descended by helicopter into the An Lão Valley, and walked some distance down the main road towards our objective. An Lão was once a frightening place to be. Many battles were fought there by the Cav in the two preceding years, and the level of frustration had reached a high point. It was decided to empty out most of the valley of its inhabitants and to put them in artificially constructed hamlets surrounded by barbed wire and protected by gun towers at their entrances. The hooches were constructed of aluminum corrugated panels, which must have been a nightmare in the tropical sun. The people had been simply rounded up with their belongings and shipped out to the new "secured area." Not all depopulation was orderly, however. As we progressed, we went through one village that had been, as we would say today, "trashed." It looked like Godzilla had trampled it underfoot and smoked it for good measure. Someone told me that this was the work of Charlie Company and that they had the nasty habit of capriciously torching everything in their path. The whole valley had been laid waste, and not a soul was to be seen anywhere. Nevertheless, as we progressed, we did encounter, much to our surprise, two older men walking down the road. It seemed clear to everyone that they were beyond military age, and otherwise harmless. They didn't speak English, so we had some trouble trying to find out what they were doing in this land of desolation. As near as we could tell, they were going back to their native village to see what they might salvage, so we trudged along on our separate ways." --Richard "Deacon" Lewis Dieterle, First Platoon, “A” Company, First of the Eighth Cavalry Regiment, First Air Cavalry Division.
Reflections in the rice paddies
It’s hard to imagine the scene Dieterle describes in the above excerpt. I will leave a link below to more articles from the company and other divisions. I have strolled the rice patties, walked across the same causeways that once lay in absolute ruin. Today the Valley is the most peaceful populated place on earth I have ever spent significant time. It’s prosperous, beautiful, lush in the middle of the growing season, and filled with incredibly warm and hospitable people. And they are always happy to see the American. They often show me their American Zippo lighters or old US army jackets they still wear after a half-century of repair and care. The older men are also quick to tell me they “worked” with the Americans. As if I have some lasting grudge with Ho Chi Minh.
In the end, the country looks more like a democracy today than other democracies around the world. And with a capitalistic bent. America may not have won the short game over the fate of Vietnam. But, it very well may have the long game. Today Vietnam has one of the fastest-growing economies globally, a robust education system, and a real sense of prosperity for the people. Moreover, they hold national elections every five years and have had a peaceful transition of power in every election since the old guard died away in the early eighty’s.
Not everything stays in the past
To the Vietnamese of today, the war is all but forgotten. They have embraced western culture while still retaining their unique heritage. They love everything American. US forces lost 56,000 soldiers. The Vietnamese number is uncountable on both sides. It is estimated that two million civilians alone died in the conflict and over a million combat troops. Yet we hold remorse over 56,000 in a land we didn’t belong. But, the most brutal legacy for the Vietnamese to endure is not the memory of war or the lives lost, but the lives it still affects. I won’t go into too much detail, as I’ve written about the topic before. I’ll leave a link at the end for that story. But the Agent Orange and Napalm that deforested much of the region left lasting effects in the An Lao Valley.
Dioxin found in the soil and deep within the silt beds of the rivers still permeates the food chain. One of the most common disorders in An Lao is chloracne, which develops in adulthood from slow continuous exposure to the toxic chemical. It builds up over time and is difficult for the body to metabolize. So many who live in cultivating valleys of central Vietnam, such as An Lao, suffer from the sometimes scarring facial condition in adulthood. My wife will probably kill me for saying this. But, it is something we have dealt with in an ongoing manner for years. But this article isn’t about sides, or right or wrong. It’s about different perspectives from a situation no one wanted but those who never saw battle.
LZ Mustang and the French Bridge
"A" company moves deeper into the valley. "Eventually, we came to the An Lão River, with which we had been walking in parallel. Now the river made a turn and crossed our path. The old dirt road reached to the river where it met a decrepit and dilapidated bridge. Just the same, the span's superstructure was intact, made of steel. The only problem was the road which it had once supported had completely disappeared. Now we found in its place two rows of planks extending the length of the bridge. These planks were not fastened down to the superstructure of the bridge, but simply rested on top of it. This led to some awkward moments as we crossed over on them. The point man often stepped on a board only to find that its opposite end shot up in the air as he nearly fell through the grating. It was beginning to look like old Vaudeville slapstick. As these dangerous points were discovered, the hazard was pointed out to those approaching it by the man in front of them. After weaving our way across the planks, we finally made it to the other shore. Not long afterwards, we reached our destination" --Richard "Deacon" Lewis Dieterle
It’s strange to have crossed a bridge that today is modern concrete and steel but once sat in the state Dieterle describes above. Nevertheless, it’s the only way in or out of the Valley. The riverbed is passable during the dry season, but it is a death trap in the monsoon. So the bridge is the lifeline to the Valley. It’s just hard to believe the scene Dieterle describes. Many of those relocated were probably my wife’s family. In the first excerpt, the two older men could have been great uncles or anyone that someone in the family today knew back then. It’s an emotional experience to see what was and what has become.
Constructing the LZ
More Excerpts from LZ Mustang by Richard “Deacon” Lewis Dieterle
"Here was an old and now nameless French fort, completely overgrown with grass. It was well designed to repel a human wave attack, since it was, in the finest French medieval tradition, completely surrounded by a moat. It was not clear whether this moat was ever filled with water. However, an empty moat is at least automatic high ground. As he entered the moat, an attacking enemy would suddenly move from level ground to the bottom of a hill while the defenders fired down on him as he struggled to climb the slopes leading to their positions. He would also soon discover that it is far easier to throw a grenade downhill than up. As to the rest of it, I could see no remains of any interior buildings. After the French left, I imagine that the people stripped the place of every usable item, which means pretty much everything. The grass that grew over the moat was a rich green color, and not too tall. It was now up to us to build our sandbag bunkers around the prearranged perimeter so well defined by its luxuriant green moat. It was up to "A" Company to reconstruct this fort after our own style.1 So we set about the laborious business of digging up earth, filling sandbags, and slowly raising a bunker that would not only protect us from the enemy but give us some degree shelter from the perpetual rain of the ubiquitous and oppressive monsoon."
"The leadership decided that the waves of grass on the far side of the moat were a little too tall for their taste, so we were ordered to grab machetes and clear a field of fire. This meant that the grass would be cut down so that it could not offer concealment for an advancing hostile force. I was fresh out of Language School, and there was no one left in An Lão with which to practice my paltry language skills. I did have a very large dictionary, and I thought it might be of benefit to the company if I spent time trying to build up a vocabulary. However, my suggestion that I while away my time in the shade reading while everyone else spent long hours chopping grass was met with a measure of scorn. So I paired up with Arthur to cut our sector. He was one of the few people known by his first name. He might be best described as "mild mannered." He was cultured to some degree, although no where near the sophisticated level of Archuleta. He was good company nonetheless, and we kept ourselves lightly entertained by our unsophisticated philosophical discussions as the swinging machetes mowed down our botanical enemies. However, Top had the ears of a wolf, and on what I call the "prick-ter scale," had a rating of about 8. He found all evidence of intellectual acuity to be a certain sign of effeminacy, so he swooped down and told us to "quit talking all this bullshit!" He then looked at me as though I should know better, and said, "You and Arthur are two of a kind." It occurred to me that this was not intended as a compliment. If we wished to engage in the unmanly pursuit of epistemology, we had just better keep ours eyes peeled. However, it did feel strange to be under a regime where signs of education made your value as a soldier suspect. It kind of reminded me of some zealous form of hyper-egalitarian communism."
LZ Mustang complete
"Around Oct. 17, after we got the LZ built and all our barbed wire strung, the Lt. General in command of the whole Corps, accompanied by Cav. commander Gen. Tolson, paid us a visit.3 Despite the fact that we had not made any contact, it was clear that the higher Brass had decided that this project was of the greatest importance. It was about this time that we set out on a large platoon sized ambush. That was an event of interest, so I have written about in a separate story (The Great Ambush). After another week or so, having sent out daily patrols the whole time, our tour on this rest home finally came to an end. Our next mission was to ascend the An Lão Mountains and come down on the other side on the Bồng Sơn plain. LZ Mustang was now somebody else's problem. So around 1000 hours, we set out for the mountains on foot. The area between the LZ and the base of the mountains was a series of abandoned rice paddies. It was evident that quite a number of people had lived in this area before we had moved them out to save them from the Viet Cong, which is to say, to save them from themselves. They were about as grateful as you could expect. Now no one lived there at all. Not a "ghost town," but a "ghost valley." Even then I thought if bringing democracy meant emptying out the countryside, it wasn't worth it. Democracy is the only truly civilized form of government short of Plato's utopian Philosopher King, but in the end it is only government, and there is more to civilization than its apparatus of rule. That's what we had lost sight of, that in trying to institute the best form of government, we were in serious danger of destroying civilization itself. As Tacitus said of the Romans, "They created a desert, and called it peace." General LeMay was found of saying, "We'll bomb them into the Stone Age," but what would be the point? Did he think that the cavemen survivors would naturally take to democracy? So we trudged along the strangely neat, abandoned rice paddies until we reached the mountains not far distant. We knew someone was up there, and that they were keeping an eye on us. Lt. Church told us to keep ours eyes peeled for evidence of the same. Someone noticed fairly high up on a tree what in the days of the old pirates would be called a "crow's nest." It was a rather crudely constructed tree platform suitable for one person to keep an eye on our activities in the valley below. There were no doubt others. We were fortunate in not making contact up in the enemy's high country. It was decided that we would leave the unproductive solitude of the mountains for the Bồng Sơn valley where at least there were human beings about, however unhappy they might be to see us". --Richard "Deacon" Lewis Dieterle
An Lao today
It’s hard to comprehend that within a lifetime, a place can go from Armageddon to paradise. That is the best way I can describe the Valley today. Reliable infrastructure, high-speed internet, schools, restaurants, parks, a beautiful capital downtown are incredibly oversized for the district’s population. It’s a place Diem, the girls, and I go to to escape the world. Though the infrastructure is there, it still feels like a remote island, detached from the world. The district is almost self-sustaining from a food perspective. About the only goods brought in are manufactured foodstuffs. But one could get everything one needs to eat a very diverse and healthy diet without purchasing anything from outside the district. Yet, once upon a time in the not so distant past, the Valley was a wasteland of death and destruction. Its development into a prosperous, beautiful valley didn’t happen overnight.
Diem talks of times when food was scarce, and an 8-cent pack of noodles was a luxury. She also talks about her childhood. One story she told me had an almost uncanny familiarity. Homes in the Valley are clustered in tiny villages or hamlets. The surrounding land is strictly for rice cultivation. A series of aqueducts crisscross the fields to help flood and drain them as the crop season evolves. She tells how her siblings and the village children would go to this one bridge outside the village and play after school. The girls would gossip about boys, and the boys would play masculine games and see who could throw sticks or rocks the farthest to impress the girls. And how much trouble they would get in if the lights came on at dusk and they were not home for dinner.
So lush and beautiful today
A long road to prosperity
It has been a long almost 50 years since the Valley found peace from war and death. The war was followed by an economic collapse rarely seen in Asia today. Famine, pestilence, malnourishment, but slowly it lifted itself from the bowels of hell. Bamboo structures and thatched roofs are now replaced with concrete, steel, plaster, and beautifully crafted wood furniture. The Valley is one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever seen, especially just before harvest. As the emerald rice rustles in the wind, and the great white Egrets take flight just before sundown to nest after a day of foraging among the tall grass.
But this beautiful and pastoral way of life is evolving too, as mechanization becomes more prominent in the numerous rice valleys across Vietnam. The iconic scenes of farmers in their conical hats bobbing among the green and golden rice fields may also be a dying reality. As Vietnam increasingly enters the middle-class economies of the world, this part of what makes Vietnam so alluring and infectious may, too, be on the decline. Only time will tell how well the future generations of Vietnam can navigate their way forward. But the future is bright if the last couple of decades are any indication.
Acknowledgements
Thanks to Richard Lewis Dieterle, Jerry Prater, Doc Jim Aguirre, Vic Castle, Lt. Jerome Church, Larry Douglas, Michael Dyess, Doc Don Ferguson, Louis Hoerner, Capt. Thomas McAndrews, Larry E. Nunn, Lt. Dallas Owens, Ralph S. Ricedorf, William Bruce Thomas, Cliff Veazie, Michael Washburn, Wayne R. Westenberger, and Larry Winslow. Brave soldiers who not only sacrificed a great deal to serve their country but who also took the time to document their journey.
You can find the full story of An Lao and other stories of the First Platoon, A Co., 1/8 Cav., First Air Cavalry Division, 1967-1968 by clicking here. A special thanks again to Richard Dieterle, who returned my emails and made this article possible. And to Fred Fish, who took many of the photos used in the article. Thank you for the ability to use the images and story so that this truth may never die. But be a reminder to us of the atrocities of war and the value of human life.
Some more
Click here for more about An Lao.
Again, click here for more stories of First Platoon’s A Company and other divisions during the war.
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And lastly, a thank you to all the men and women who risk their lives around the world every day in the name of freedom and justice for all humankind. As always, may true freedom and peace prevail upon the earth.
