In 1969, the village had about 100 residents who lived in four or five communal huts strung out along the shoreline. Behind that, there was only forest. On my visit, I saw family huts, storefronts, a restaurant, a police station, a primary school, and a post office, all of which looked like they were built years ago. Only a few patches of forest remained near the shore.

Feverish Development

The village of Thanh Phong is in the throes of feverish development, with earth-moving tractors and houses under construction all over town. There is a brand-new church and recently erected monuments to commemorate the commune’s role in the war. These monuments do not relate to Kerrey’s raid, but rather to Thanh Phong’s status as a center for seaborne gun running. A plaque describes the commune as the southern terminus of a “Ho Chi Minh Seaway” by which the Vietcong rebels in South Vietnam received weapons from North Vietnam. 

When the officer from Bentre arrived, he began by speaking to me in Vietnamese, apparently trying to trick me into answering in Vietnamese, in the manner of an interrogator in a spy thriller. However, as I have cleverly neglected to learn the language, I was able to remain one step ahead. The officer’s primary concern was that I might have been talking about politics with the villagers. I told him I was interested in writing only about the daily life of the local people, and he seemed satisfied. He asked to see my pictures and to listen to the tape I had made.

“You should always travel with a guide,” the officer warned. “It is not safe. Many people hate Americans.”

The Delta After Dark

After spending a total of six hours at the station, I was finally released. The delay meant I would have to do something much more worrisome than meeting people not fond of Americans - I’d have to bike across the delta after sunset.

The now invisible ruts tossed me around like I was on a roller coaster ride. When we got to the paved road, the ride became even less comfortable. The private homes we passed were unlit, presumably not wired for electricity. Rural stretches were as dark as caves.

As we approached a turn, flames leaped up from a spot straight ahead, creating a spectacular fiery show. It was a motorcycle wreck by the side of the road. The driver was attempting to put out the fire with a small bowl of water. He had apparently taken the turn at too high a speed. By the time I got to Bentre and checked into a hotel, I was exhausted from worry.

Bentre, by the way, the provincial capital, played a cameo role in the Tet offensive as the town the U.S. Army had to “destroy in order to save.”

The next day I went to the tourist office, but now they wouldn’t tell me anything and referred all my questions to the “people’s committee” (provincial government). When I arrived at the people’s committee building, I noticed that it is also the police headquarters. Not interested in dealing with the police anymore, I took the bus back to Ho Chi Minh.

Traditional Dress

The traditional Vietnamese dress, called an ao dai, is beautiful. The high school girls wear a blinding white gossamer ao dai as a uniform. To keep it clean, they wash it by hand every day. Shop clerks and bank tellers wear less revealing ao dais of various colors. Otherwise, you don’t see the traditional dress all that often nowadays.

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