Where the Domino Fell

America and Vietnam 1945 - 2010

James S. Olson, Randy W. Roberts

• Publisher: Wiley-Blackwell
• Year: 2013
• ISBN:
  9781118608623
• Edition: 6
• Topic: Historia
• Subtopic: Historia del siglo XX

This updated, expanded edition of Where the Domino Fell recounts the history of American involvement in Vietnam from the end of World War II, clarifying the political aims, military strategy, and social and economic factors that contributed to the participants' actions.

• Revised and updated to include an examination of Vietnam through the point of view of the soldiers themselves, and brings the story up to the present day through a look at how the war has been memorialized
• A final chapter examines Vietnam through the lens of Oliver Stone's films and opens up a discussion of the War in popular culture
• Written with brevity and clarity, this concise narrative history of the Vietnam conflict is an ideal student text
• A chronology, glossary, and a bibliography all serve as helpful reference points for students
• An important contribution not only to the study of the Vietnam War but to an understanding of the larger workings of American foreign policy

1

Eternal War

The Vietnamese Heritage

Vietnam is nobody's dog.

—Nguyen Co Thach, 1978

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The Trung Sisters

Today, nearly two thousand years after their deaths, the sisters Trung—Trung Trac and Trung Nhi—flourish in the collective memory of the Vietnamese people, fill revered pages in the histories of Vietnam, and represent the earliest expression of Vietnamese nationalism. In a.d. 40, they rebelled against To Dinh, the brutal Chinese governor of northern Vietnam. For three centuries, Chinese colonialists had ruled Vietnam with a heavy hand, and Vietnamese alienation deepened. Trung Trac's husband, Thi Sach, enjoyed a reputation for resisting Chinese dictates, and when To Dinh had him assassinated, Trung Trac and Trung Nhi hoisted the banner of national liberation. Committed to removing the yoke of Chinese oppression, they assembled and then led a Vietnamese army against To Dinh's forces, swiftly liberating sixty-five towns and proclaiming independence. Chinese troops fled for their lives, escaping to the north and across the border. A grateful nation, according to popular Vietnamese historians, acknowledged Trung Trac as sovereign and proclaimed her queen of Vietnam.

The Chinese emperor, loath to suffer such an irksome political entity on its southern frontier, soon made short work of the uprising. In 42 b.c., the Chinese army returned in force. The Trungs tried to resist, but the Chinese enemy, superior in numbers, organization, and equipment, soon overwhelmed the insurgents, driving them deep into Vietnam and trapping the Trung sisters against the Day River. Unable to escape the onslaught, Trun Trac and Trung Nhi swam into the current and drowned, committing suicide on their own terms rather than acquiescing to the hated Chinese. Some Vietnamese legends still deny the suicide and portray the Trung sisters as heroines morphing into mist and ascending to heaven for deification.

Ever since, the Vietnamese have lionized the Trung sisters. More than four centuries ago, paper prints began depicting them as warriors with yellow turbans, riding astride elephants and leading soldiers into battle. Every spring, the residents of Hanoi celebrate the lives of the Trung sisters and their role in fashioning Vietnamese identity. On birthdays and special events, Vietnamese parents, grandparents, and teachers still bestow Trung sister memorabilia—books, pamphlets, jewelry, and sketches—on children as rewards for achievement. Today, larger temples and smaller shrines honoring the sisters draw visitors and worshipers throughout Vietnam. The festivities often include soldiers, bands, weapons, yellow turbans, and flags. During the Vietnam War, it was not uncommon for American soldiers and marines, upon examining the bodies of deceased Vietcong or North Vietnamese regulars, to come upon a necklace or trinket dedicated to the Trung sisters, who first transformed Vietnamese nationalism into a military phenomenon and in whose memory soldiers still train and fight.

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In 1945, Ho Chi Minh, the leader of Vietnamese communists, launched a bloody insurrection against the French colonial government and appealed to Moscow for assistance. Soviet Premier Joseph Stalin, convinced that Indochina constituted, at best, only a backwater in the looming Cold War, discarded the request, failing even to acknowledge Ho's cables. Four years later, however, once Mao Zedong and the communists had seized control of China and then deployed large numbers of People's Liberation Army soldiers to the border of Vietnam, Stalin took notice. On February 16, 1950, he hosted a dinner for Mao in Moscow and invited Ho Chi Minh to attend. The Soviet leader there and then conceded to Mao financial and strategic responsibility over Vietnam, a decision that Ho found particularly unsettling. In his struggle against the French colonialists, Ho had planned to leverage the traditional Sino-Russian (Soviet) rivalry, hoping to play Stalin off against Mao and in the process squeeze more financial and military assistance from both.

Stalin put Mao and Ho on the same train for the journey back to Beijing, and with each mile of track traversed, Ho's misgivings deepened. Mao at once seemed congenial and menacing, bellicose and accommodating, certainly a man to be used but never trusted and one guaranteed to press every possible advantage. For millennia China had done just that with Vietnam; Ho stood wary of the behemoth to Vietnam's north. China represented an iron fist clothed in a silk glove.

Ho was a wisp of a man, thin and gaunt, frail and seemingly vulnerable, his stringy goatee elongating an already long face. After seventy-six years of world wandering, hiding, and escaping, he was finally declining, wrinkled brown skin now only translucently covering his bones. Over the years his rivals might easily have failed fully to recognize the fire that possessed him. In 1966 Ho Chi Minh was ill, and he calmly waited for eternal rest from a life of boundless striving. It was his peculiar lot that two enemy nations had drawn his very qualified admiration. A lover of much of French culture, he had led Vietnam in a war of national liberation against France, at one point adopting, in a vain hope to get American support, a close version of the American Declaration of Independence. Now that country was his antagonist.

Late in 1966, when the war in Vietnam approached its peak, Ho remarked to Jean Sainteny, an old French diplomat and friend: “The Americans … can wipe out all the principal towns of Tonkin [northern Vietnam]. … We expect it, and, besides, we are prepared for it. But that does not weaken our determination to fight to the very end. You know, we've already had the experience, and you have seen how that conflict ended.” It was only a matter of time before the Americans went the same way as the Chinese, Japanese, and French. Vietnam was for the Vietnamese, not for anyone else, and that passion had driven Ho Chi Minh throughout his life.

That key to Ho's passion is the fundamental theme of Vietnamese history. Long ago a Chinese historian remarked, “The people of Vietnam do not like the past.” No wonder. Vietnam developed in the shadow of Chinese imperialism. In 208 b.c. the Han dynasty expanded into southern China and Vietnam, declaring the region a new Chinese province—Giao Chi. Its informal name for the region was Nam Viet, which meant “land of the southern Viets.” Over the centuries the Chinese brought to Vietnam their mandarin administrative system, along with their technology, writing, and Confucian social philosophy. But control did not translate into assimilation. Intensely ethnocentric, the Vietnamese, while welcoming many Chinese institutions, refused to accept a Chinese identity. The historian Frances FitzGerald describes that dilemma in Vietnamese history: “The Vietnamese leaders assumed Chinese political culture while rejecting … Chinese political domination.”

Periodically, the Vietnamese violently resisted, giving Vietnam such national heroes as the Trung sisters; Trieu Au, the Vietnamese Joan of Arc who led a rebellion in a.d. 248; and Ngo Quyen, the military leader of Vietnam's successful revolution in 938. An old Vietnamese proverb captures the region's history: “Vietnam is too close to China, too far from heaven.” Even after they achieved independence in 938, the Vietnamese had to deal periodically with Chinese or Mongol expansionism. Vietnam fought major wars against invaders from the north in 1257, the 1280s, 1406–1428, and 1788. Tran Hung Dao, the great thirteenth-century Vietnamese general, defeated the enemy after having all his soldiers tattoo the inscription “Kill the Mongols” on their right arm. He wrote: “We have seen the enemy's ambassadors stroll about in our streets with conceit. … They have demanded precious stones and embroidered silks to satisfy their boundless appetite. … They have extracted silver and gold from our limited treasures. It is really not different from bringing meat to feed hungry tigers.”

In the centuries-long struggle against China, Vietnam developed a hero cult that elevated martial qualities as primary virtues. Vietnamese art glorified the sword-wielding, armor-bearing soldiers riding horses or elephants into battle. War, not peace, was woven into the cloth of Vietnamese history. The historian William Turley writes that out of this experience the Vietnamese fashioned a myth of national indomitability. … The Vietnamese forged a strong collective identity … long before the Europeans appeared off their shores.” Vietnam's enemies learned that lesson the hard way.

But there was also a patience to Vietnamese militarism, an unwillingness to be intimidated, a conviction that a small country could prevail against an empire if it bided its time and waited for its moment. Between 1406 and 1428, led by the great Le Loi, the Vietnamese attacked the Chinese through hit-and-run guerrilla warfare, letting rugged mountains and thick rain forests do much of their work for them, wearing down the enemy, sapping its spirit, confusing its objectives, finally delivering a death blow, a strategic offensive to drive the Chinese back across the border. That story became legendary in Vietnamese military history.

Anti-Chinese resistance became the cutting edge of Vietnamese identity. A prominent eighteenth-century Chinese emperor lamented the stubbornness of the Vietnamese. They are not, he said, “a reliable people. An occupation does not last very long before they raise their arms against us and expel us from their country.” Suspicion of the Chinese permeated Vietnamese history. In 1945, for example, with the French ready to return to Vietnam and Chinese troops occupying much of northern Vietnam, Ho Chi Minh agreed to cooperate temporarily with France. When some of his colleagues protested, Ho remarked that it “is better to sniff French shit for a while than to eat Chinese shit all our lives.”

For Ho Chi Minh, the “French shit” was still bad enough. France had come to Vietnam in two stages, first in the seventeenth century and again in the nineteenth. Father Alexandre de Rhodes, a French Jesuit, traveled to Hanoi in 1627, converted thousands of Vietnamese to Roman Catholicism, and created a Latin alphabet for the Vietnamese language. Although suspicious Vietnamese leaders expelled de Rhodes in 1630 and again in 1645, he planted the seeds of the French empire. The French returned in force to Vietnam in 1847 when a naval expedition arrived at Tourane (later called Danang) and, within a few weeks, fought a pitched battle with local Vietnamese. Two more French warships fought another battle at Tourane in 1856. A French fleet captured Tourane in 1858 and conquered Saigon in 1859. Vietnamese resistance drove the French out, but in 1861 they returned to Saigon to stay. After signing a treaty with Siam (now Thailand) in 1863, France established a protectorate over Cambodia. France extended its control over southern Vietnam, or Cochin China, during the rest of the decade. France then turned north, and in 1883 a naval expedition reached the mouth of the Perfume River, just outside Hue. When the French fleet shelled the city, a Vietnamese leader gave France a protectorate over Annam (central Vietnam) and Tonkin (northern Vietnam), although it took France years to assert its control in those regions. To provide uniform government over the colonies, France established the French Union in 1887. After securing a protectorate over Laos by signing another treaty with Siam in 1893, France had five regions in the Union: Cochin China, Annam, Tonkin, Cambodia, and Laos.

The Vietnamese were no more satisfied with French domination than with Chinese. The most resentful Vietnamese lived in Nghe An Province, located in Annam in central Vietnam, a low coastal plain bordered by the Annamese mountains. Nghe An and the surrounding provinces were the most densely populated areas of Vietnam, and by far the poorest. The soil was leached and dry, the weather alternating between torrential monsoon rains and hot summer winds.

The French called the Nghe Annese the “Buffaloes of Nghe An” because of their reputation for stubbornness. The Vietnamese referred to them as the “People of the Wooden Fish.” The Vietnamese love a special sauce known as nuoc mam. They alternate layers of fish and layers of salt in a barrel and let the brew ferment in the heat for several weeks. The fish decompose into a mush and the fluid into a salty brine. Nuoc mam is to Vietnamese fish what catsup is to American french fries. The Nghe Annese were too poor to afford fish, the proverb says, so they carried a wooden fish in their pockets to dip into nuoc mam at restaurants. Nghe Annese, the jesters claimed, licked the wooden fish until they were kicked out, only to repeat the culinary charade somewhere else.

But Nghe An, with its neighboring Ha Tinh Province, was not known only for its poverty. Year after year the prizewinning poets, musicians, and scholars at the imperial court at Hue came from Nghe An and Ha Tinh. They were thinkers and tinkerers, creative people who looked at life from unique perspectives, refused to believe what they were told, and insisted on having things proven to them. Their skepticism bred unhappiness. By the 1800s the best schools at Hue no longer accepted applicants from Nghe An and Ha Tinh, no matter how high their scores. Central Vietnamese, “the people of the wooden fish,” were troublemakers, dreaming of a better world.

Born in 1890 as Nguyen Sinh Cung, Ho Chi Minh grew up in Nghe An. Near his birthplace was the den, a monument to Le Loi. The Vietnamese believe that the spirit of an honored individual lives on in a den. Ho Chi Minh visited the den as a child and listened to tales of how Le Loi had expelled the hated Chinese. His father, Nguyen Sinh Sac, was the son of peasants who became a scholar and a ferocious anti-French nationalist. His sister was a renowned balladeer, and her folk songs railed at China and France. Sac passed the mandarin examinations and found a job at the imperial palace at Hue, but the imperial court was full of pro-French Vietnamese sycophants or tradition-bound mandarins. For a while in the late 1890s and early 1900s Nguyen Sinh Sac was a minor government official in Hue. Ho Chi Minh's mother died in 1900, and Sac, along with his two sons and a daughter, lived in a tiny, dingy one-room apartment facing the opulent splendor of the Palais de la Censure where the Vietnamese emperor and the mandarin court ruled Vietnam. Ho bore the brunt of ridicule from the children of the court mandarins, and he developed a spontaneous dislike for intellectual snobbery. Throughout his life, he frequently quoted the poet Tuy Vien: “Nothing is more contemptible than to seek honors through literature.”

Although the Vietnamese had thrown off the Chinese yoke in 938, over the centuries they gradually adopted the Chinese mandarin system to govern the nation. Eventually, mandarin teachers and bureaucrats became a self-conscious elite. To pass the civil service examinations and secure the best jobs, Vietnamese scholars immersed themselves in the Chinese language and Confucian values, which gradually distanced them from Vietnamese peasants. The mandarins also adopted many Chinese institutions—a centralized tax system, a judicial hierarchy, and the royal palace architecture complete with gates, moats, bridges, and pools. Confucianism promoted rule by a paternalistic elite committed to morality and fairness, and it demanded unswerving obedience from the governed. The essence of personal behavior is obedience, submissiveness, and peaceful acquiescence in the social hierarchy.

The mandarin system was also conservative to a fault. Mandarins were suspicious of all change. They opposed science, technology, industrialization, and democracy, any one of which might dislodge them from their positions of privilege. A popular late nineteenth-century Vietnamese poem reflected the growing resentment of the mandarin class:

Becoming a mandarin you treat your servants as dirt,

And steal every bit of money the people have.

Although you scoop in who knows how much money,

Do the people get any help from you?

On top of the mandarin elite, the French imposed the colonial bureaucracy. They ruled Vietnam through local clients—French-speaking Roman Catholic Vietnamese, who soon became a new elite, competing with the mandarins for influence. Eventually, the French abolished the mandarin examinations, prohibited the teaching of Chinese, and displaced the mandarins as power- brokers. Except for the French bureaucrats themselves, the Francophile Vietnamese enjoyed the finest homes, the best jobs, the fanciest clothes—the good life.

The imposition of the French language and French law accelerated the alienation of peasant land. There were widespread poverty and millions of landless peasants in Vietnam before the French, but most peasants owned at least a small plot, and historically the emperor had discouraged the development of large estates. But between 1880 and 1930 the French changed landholding patterns. Many peasants lost their property because they could not pay high French taxes, could not contest claims against the land in French courts, or fell into debt to French or Vietnamese creditors who foreclosed on their property. The number of landless peasants, tenant farmers, and debt peons rose. In Tonkin nine percent of the population came to own 52 percent of cultivated land, and 250 people owned 20 percent. They included French settlers and wealthy Vietnamese. It was the same in Cochin China. Tenant farmers paid up to 70 percent of their harvest to the landlord, and farmers borrowing money to finance production on their own land paid interest rates of 100 percent. French companies had monopolies on the production of alcohol, opium, and salt, robbing peasant farmers of another source of income.

With imported rubber trees, the French created a new industry. By 1940 there were more than six hundred rubber plantations in Vietnam, but a handful of French companies controlled them. Poverty forced thousands of Vietnamese peasants to leave home for years to work the French plantations. The taxes imposed by the top-heavy French bureaucracy added to the poverty. “French imperialism,” Ho Chi Minh declared in 1920, “conquered our country with bayonets. Since then we have not only been oppressed and exploited shamelessly, but also tortured and poisoned pitilessly. … Prisons outnumber schools and are always overcrowded. … Thousands of Vietnamese have been led to a slow death or massacred.” Though not so eloquent, millions of Vietnamese felt the same way. To them France was a nation of police, soldiers, pimps, tax collectors, and labor recruiters.

Almost as bad was the Vietnamese elite who did the French bidding. For any Vietnamese to succeed in the French colony, he or she had to be a French-speaking Roman Catholic who carried out the edicts of the empire. If these Vietnamese were not mandarins in their educational background, they were just as elitist, just as hierarchical, and just as conservative. They got the best government posts, the finest homes, and the largest estates. Ho Chi Minh referred to them as colonis indigeniae [indigenous colonists]: “If you take the largest and strongest member of the herd and fasten a bright substance to its neck, a gold coin or a cross, it becomes completely docile. … This weird … animal goes by the name of colonis in...