Cu Chi tunnels


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Asia » Vietnam » Southeast » Ho Chi Minh City
March 11th 2010
Published: March 15th 2010
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Entering a tunnelEntering a tunnelEntering a tunnel

Getting in was extremely tight. I hardly fit.
I left Saigon today but would have the bulk of the day before catching my overnight train. I used this time to head to Cu Chi in the outskirts of Saigon.

Along the way, my tour group stopped at another Handicapped Handicraft workshop, my third in as many days. I started to wonder just how many of these there are and how they can possibly be producing and selling so much merchandise with such a slow production time per piece. I asked our tour guide about it. He said there are five in total in Saigon and that all goods are hand made. So it seems that much of this must not sell as there is such an inventory stockpile. It’s a shame because the products truly are beautiful but they are of little utility to their western targets and have to be tough to transport.

The ride out, with the stop, took about two hours, though we were still technically in Saigon district 24. There was quite a bit of traffic but that still shows how large Saigon is.

When we arrived, we were treated to an overview of the tunnel system and a film describing their
Bamboo trapBamboo trapBamboo trap

Complete with metal spikes below.
construction and the heroics of the VC and villainy of the Americans.

The tunnels consist of three layers and ran for 121 km (about 75miles). They were built over several years with the dirt discarded at night by making fake cemetery plots and depositing it in the river if it was nearby. The Vietnamese could stay underground for long periods of time, with air ventilation and the ability to cook. They would filtrate the smoke from cooking through multiple chimneys, allowing the ash to settle. Then they would release a light colored smoke in the mornings that blended in with fog so the US soldiers wouldn’t become aware of their location.

The tunnel model and description were interesting but the constant bombardment of the heroics of several VC members for their killing Americans in the film was a little much. I’m curious how we approach things in our museums and documentaries from our perspective. I’ve never really paid attention to the post-war language we use in describing our military objectives. It becomes more noticeable when they talk about killing your brethren in no uncertain terms.

Of course the documentary was also one-sided. It discussed “imperialism” as America’s
Shooting an AK-47Shooting an AK-47Shooting an AK-47

Terrible form and incredible kick. I don't even know where the bullets were going.
reason for being in Vietnam and didn’t even consider the arguments, whatever their view of them, that the US has given for the war.

Next, we toured the outdoor compound. Our first stop was at a tiny tunnel entrance. It was barely wide enough for a grown man to fit in. We all had a chance to try and get in if we wanted. I did so and barely fit.

From there we viewed several spots that demonstrated the traps used by the VC, confiscated weaponry and transforming it to be used against the US (such as bombs made into land mines), VC uniforms for night (black) and day (green), some made of silk, and the making of the uniforms. As we walked along, we could hear live gunfire in the background from the shooting range. Depending where we were, I could hear a tremendous difference whether it was far away or close by and with the various grades of small arms weaponry (though I couldn’t identify the sound of any specific weapon).

We made our way to the shooting range where we could purchase ammo for a variety of weapons, including some pistols, an M-1, M-16,
Maneuvering a tunnelManeuvering a tunnelManeuvering a tunnel

The guy in front of me squeezes his way through.
M-60, AK-47 and a Thomson (Tommy gun). I went with ten rounds in the AK-47 at 26,000 dong ($1.30) a round.

James, an English guy about my age who I had been talking to throughout the day, joined me with 10 rounds of his own and we made our way down to the range. One of the workers loaded the gun, which had its barrel attached to the wood bar in front of me. No instructions - just fire away.

I grabbed the gun, carefully took shooting position and aimed before slowly placing my finger on the trigger and firing away. Bang! Whoa. This thing has tremendous kick. I couldn’t even see where my first shot went (or subsequent shots for that matter). I released my other nine rounds, some single shots and some double and, after watching James shoot, left the range with my ears ringing.

Firing that weapon was pretty remarkable. I couldn’t get over just how powerful it is. I’ve shot hunting rifles before but have never felt anything like that.

After the range we regrouped and made our way into one of the tunnels. The entrance was a bit narrow and the
DarknessDarknessDarkness

The only light in this smaller section was from my camera's flash.
tunnel got smaller and smaller as we got in. The guy in front of me had to be 6’5” and could hardly fit while waddling in a catcher’s squat. Visitors could go 20, 40 or 60 meters through the tunnel. At one point in the last 20 meters it became so low that I actually had to get on my hands and knees to make it through. I came out 60 meters later a sweaty mess and a little dirty, findingd two other guys that looked just as bad.

Our final stop at Cu Chi was for tapioca tasting and tea. Tapioca is a very bland root of the cassava plant. We were able to dip it in salt and chili powder for some flavor but it still lacked in taste. I’ll take tapioca pudding any day.

I got back to the city and grabbed a lunch of yellow noodles with chicken and vegetables before heading back to the guesthouse. There I used my last few hours to take care of some details on my last big trip - a trek to Mt. Everest base camp with Dave. After a few months pf planning, we’re finally ready to
TapiocaTapiocaTapioca

This edible root is not as tasty plain as it is in tapioca pudding.
book it for this April.

I grabbed a quick kebab for dinner before gathering my things and heading to the train station by motorbike. The driver had my large backpack between him and the handlebar and me on the back, wearing my small backpack. The ride was chaotic, as expected. It was during rush hour so there were hundreds of other bikes on the road, each shuffling in and out of traffic. At one point we hit a roundabout; I am still bewildered how we didn’t hit anything. There were so many bikes that you could hardly moved. And all of them added to the chorus of honking horns that overtook the city.

I made my train without a problem and even managed to find the correct berth from a ticket printed in Vietnamese. I shared my car with an older Aussie named Roger, a Vietnamese tour guide named Chu and an older Frenchman that was on Chu’s tour who didn’t speak any English.

Along the way, I mostly read before being the last one to go to sleep around 10:30.

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