HoaBinh to TonKin
- and talk of "De-collectivization"
Departing Hoa Binh Province, we headed down the mountains back through Ha Noi. Crossing the Red River we saw the Long Bien Bridge, built by the French early in the Century. It was the crossing of the river used by the North to bring war material to HaNoi from the port city of HaiPhong. Late in the war, it finally became a target, but the box frame proved hard to hit and easy to repair. It was damaged beyond safe use, however, and is now used only by bicycles. (On the way back, from HaLong, we were able to climb a bank for a great photo of the bridge.)
Crossing the river, then, on the new Chuong Duong Bridge and turning east on Rt. 5, we passed through the village of Hai Duong. It was here in 1972 that the aircraft of Pete Peterson was hit by ground fire. He parachuted into the village and was well treated by the inhabitants (by his own account). When diplomatic relations were normalized in 1994, this former POW became and still serves as the US Ambassador to this country.
On the way to the port city, we passed a number of failed collectives. The production was stunted by the communist system so that these giant farms came to produce only enough to meet the residents' needs. Our guide, Nga, explained that the government had come up with a marvelous new plan to solve the country's economic problems. It is, she explained, called "Decollectivization", and peasants are now allowed to produce and sell whatever they want on their own plots. I smiled at her and said, "Isn't capitalism wonderful?"
We had lunch in HaiPhong, looking out over the harbor through which the USSR poured military hardware 24 hours a day for decades while we did nothing, because of the "Limited War" theorists of McNamara and his academic idiots who were never in the military and had no idea what they were doing. Nixon finally mined the waterway, too late.
All over this country, but most of all here along Rt. 5, we passed the most amazing trucks. They all look alike and seem to be about 3 decades old. They are short, dumpy, high things with large rear wheels. Some have a short little cab on the front, but many have lost that and the driver sits out in the open. The motor is mounted in front of the cab where we would expect a front bumper. It is a one cylinder, diesel motor with a large fly wheel.
They are started with a hand crank and have a top speed of about 20 mph. They scurry around by the thousand, carrying stone for road construction or whatever. I finally figured out what they are. They were sent here from Russia in huge number to be the means of moving munitions and military hardware out of HaiPhong to HaNoi and on down the Ho Chi Minh Trail.
After traveling for 8 hours, we finally arrived at the town of HaLong and registered at the hotel. It is another of the big concrete box central government planning thing, empty except for us. There are 4 of them lined up looking at beautiful HaLong Bay. They are creatively named, "Hotel 1", "Hotel 2", "Hotel 3", and "Hotel 4". We are in Hotel 3. I truly don't think any guests are in the other three. There are two mud beaches on this part of the coast, predictably named, "Beach 1", and "Beach 2".
We wondered off about 5 PM to see if we could find a few Bias and got a bit far away for comfort. Things deteriorated and people began to stare at us oddly. John stopped and said that was far enough along that dirt road, so we turned around and came back to a better area and felt better. There we saw a little shop selling craft things and dropped in. The proprietor met us and turned the lights on, looked at me intently and pointed. "American Soldier," he proclaimed. He then pointed to his chest and said, "VC". I held out my hand which he shook eagerly. Then, he started pulling off his shirt to show me the bullet holes in his body.