Legacy of War by Ed Marohn

Author:Ed Marohn
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: BookBaby
Published: 2019-05-02T17:08:57+00:00

Outside of Hanoi, January 2, 2003

As Hieu accompanied me, continuously glancing at me, we entered the house; I reflected on my exhaustion from the long flight and the anxiety about my upcoming role in Nam. We said little at breakfast in the hotel, both of us deep in thoughts. She had to think the worst of me, the ugly American syndrome. Brushing off my melancholy, I gave a weak smile to Colonel Tin.

Retired, in his late eighties, and showing a resiliency common to the Vietnamese, Colonel Tin greeted us in the small living room of his two-story, cement-and-stone house located on the outskirts of Hanoi, the Vietnamese version of suburbia. Tin’s pink house resembled a small villa on a very tiny plot of land bordered on the south by a drainage canal, with rice paddies on the north and west. The house faced east, toward the main highway to Hanoi; similar houses ran parallel or adjacent to his along the same road. Tin had no verdant landscape or elaborate gardens on his property, just bare dirt and a few neatly maintained trees and bushes enclosed by a five-foot stone wall. Growing food for the populace dictated that the fertile farmlands were not wasted for building huge homes or elaborate landscaped properties.

With our driver waiting outside in the car parked on the narrow driveway, Hieu and I sat down in the living room. A young woman offered us hot tea served in small porcelain cups. As she stared at me, Tin introduced her as one of his great-granddaughters. Eventually, she bowed and returned to the back of the house.

Left alone and seated near Tin with our holstered pistols—a gesture of his trust, no doubt—Hieu and I listened reverently to an old man recount his tale of entering the military service of the Viet Minh led by Ho Chi Minh in 1950 and ending his service in 1980, five years after the fall of Saigon. It astonished me that he had served in war for almost twenty-five years: first against the French, participating in the famous defeat of the French at Dien Bien Phu, then against the United States and its South Vietnamese allies. His stark white hair gave him a noble dignity and accented his piercing dark eyes, which were constantly focused on me as he talked. His five-foot-four height was slightly stooped, but the wrinkles on his face still accentuated a rugged handsomeness.

“Mr. Moore, when you fought us, I had the pleasure of encountering you twice.”

“I’m not certain I remember more than once,” I said, my interest piqued.

“Ah, yes. There was, of course, the helicopter situation in which you saved my young lieutenant, now Colonel Zang, and me as well. For that I owe you my gratitude. During the Tet ceremonies this year, we will honor your name with our ancestors for your noble, kind deed.” He smiled and continued. “I have many relatives, many grandchildren, aunts, uncles, and of course, my wife and my four sons. You helped preserve our familial line.

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