All language subtitles for the.vietnam.war.2017.part10.720p.bluray.x264-brmp

They shared
the weight of memory.

They took up what others
could no longer bear.

Often, they carried each other,
the wounded or weak.

They carried infections.

They carried chess sets,
basketballs,

Vietnamese-English dictionaries,

insignia of rank,
Bronze Stars, and Purple Hearts,

plastic cards imprinted
with the Code of Conduct.

They carried diseases, among
them malaria and dysentery.

They carried lice and ringworm
and leeches and paddy algae

and various rots and molds.

They carried the land itself...

Vietnam.

Thank you.

I can tell you, as I look back
over those months and years,

that we have met
with the wives and the mothers

of those of you
who were prisoners of war,

they were and are the bravest,
most magnificent women

I have ever met in my life.

And now, if they will give me
my official toasting glass,

I will propose the toast.

Tonight...

On May 24, 1973,

President Nixon invited

all the returned prisoners
of war and their families

to Washington.

Among them was Everett Alvarez,

the first pilot shot down
over North Vietnam.

Sometimes,
I feel too much attention

was being paid to us,
the P.O.W.s.

And what about the poor guys
that fought the war, those kids?

You know, that came home, um,
you know, amputees...

Uh, wounded
with the injuries of war.

What about them?

We had our own challenges,

and the key was
to, to face these

and yet maintain our, our honor.

That's what it was.

Dr. Hal Kushner,

who had been a prisoner
for more than five years,

was unable to attend.

He was reunited with his family
at Valley Forge.

We flew to
Valley Forge, Pennsylvania.

And I came off the helicopter
and I saw my wife...

...and my daughter,

who I hadn't seen
since she was 2 1/2.

And she was born in 1963.

So she was ten years old.

And my son,
who I had never seen,

a week before
his fifth birthday.

And he had on a little tie
and a little coat.

And my mom and dad.

And my mother was just overcome
with emotion.

And I just...

It was just
an incomprehensible moment.

And we hugged everybody.

And my little boy had a flag,
American flag.

Like many P.O.W. marriages,

Hal Kushner's would not survive.

On March 29, 1973,

the last American troops
left South Vietnam.

Fewer than 200 Marines
would remain,

assigned to guard
consular offices

and the American Embassy

and other installations
in Saigon.

Thousands of other Americans,
including C.I.A. agents,

diplomats, and contractors,

stayed behind, as well.

Over the next two years,

the forces
of North and South Vietnam

would continue
to savage one another.

And the Vietnamese people
would find themselves

back where they were
at the beginning,

engulfed in
an apparently endless civil war

and struggling over what kind
of future they would have.

For the United States,
combat did end,

but controversy over the war
did not.

The best you
could say about Vietnam

was that certain blood
was being shed

for uncertain reasons.

The blood was for sure...

the bodies, the widows,
the orphans...

they were certain.

Nobody disputed it,
the dead people were dead.

But the rectitude of the war
was in great dispute.

Smart people in pinstripes

couldn't make their minds up
about the war.

And I remember asking myself...

"Was it worth it?"

Maybe it was all a big mistake,
and, you know,

what, what was it all about?

We answered the call,

me and probably 2 1/2 million
other young Americans

who went over there.

It was a cause worth the effort.

And sometimes,
things just don't turn out

and the guys in the white hats
don't win.

But that doesn't make it, uh,

or doesn't basically take away

from the rectitude of the cause.

Subcommittee will come to order.

Night after night
during the spring, summer,

and fall of 1973,

Americans watched
the Nixon administration

slowly come apart.

Blackmail,

enemies lists,

dirty tricks,

a vice president
forced to resign,

perjury, cover-u p,

abuse of presidential power,

secret White House tapes.

Mr. Butterfield, are you aware

of the installation
of any listening devices

in the Oval Office
of the president?

I was aware
of listening devices.

Yes, sir.

Good evening.

The country tonight
is in the midst of what may be

the most serious
constitutional crisis

in its history.

I told the president
about the fact

that there were money demands
being made

by the seven
convicted defendants.

He asked me
how much it would cost.

I told him
I could only make an estimate

that it might be as high
as a million dollars or more.

He told me that
that was no problem.

I had no prior knowledge
of the Watergate break-in.

I neither took part in
nor knew about

any of the subsequent
cover-up activities.

The one frustrating thing
about...

about going to Canada was,

it left me
outside the debate here.

I felt about... frustrated
with that till this day.

As the Watergate
scandal unfolded, Jack Todd,

who had deserted
the United States Army

and fled to Canada,

had never felt so bitter,

so disenchanted, so out of touch

with what the United States
seemed to have become.

He asked himself, "How did we
let this gang take charge?"

Then he made a decision
he would always regret:

he renounced
his American citizenship.

I thought it
was a political act,

renouncing
my American citizenship.

And it was the stupidest thing
I have ever done in my life.

I'm a Canadian citizen
and I'm proud of it.

It's a wonderful country,
but in here, I'm an American.

Well, the agreement was called

"The Agreement to End the War

and Restore Peace
in Vietnam."

And, of course,
that was a huge euphemism.

It neither ended the war
nor did it restore peace.

And if you look at
the substance of it,

it really was
a withdrawal agreement.

We were withdrawing our forces

in exchange
for prisoners of war.

Those are the two matters
that were definitively settled

by the peace agreement.

We got our troops out
and we got our prisoners back.

The rest is just all a model
of nebulosity and vagueness

and didn't resolve a darn thing.

LAM QUANG THY.

Neither North nor South Vietnam

had had any intention
of observing the cease-fire

called for in the peace treaty
signed in Paris

on January 27, 1973.

Even before the ink was dry,

each side had sought to claim
as much territory as it could

in what became known
as "the War of the Flags."

Within three weeks
of the ceasefire,

there were already some 3,000
violations by both sides.

South Vietnamese President
Nguyen Van Thieu,

who now commanded
the fifth-largest army on Earth,

insisted the ARVN take and hold
every inch of South Vietnam,

something they had been
unable to do

even with the help of
nearly 600,000 American troops.

Meanwhile, the North Vietnamese
had attacked Tay Ninh,

near the Cambodian border,

hoping to establish
a rival capital of their own

in the South.

Hanoi installed surface-to-air
missiles near Khe Sanh,

just below the DMZ.

At the same time,
ARVN troops attacked enclaves

seized by the North Vietnamese.

The fighting went on for months.

Hanoi built a new paved highway

within South Vietnam itself,

down which convoys
of 200 to 300 vehicles

soon began streaming:

trucks, tanks, and heavy guns
moving in broad daylight.

And they began laying down
a giant oil pipeline

to fuel their vehicles
in the South.

Nixon had privately promised
President Thieu

that he would retaliate
with American airpower

if Saigon ever seemed
seriously threatened.

But in Washington, week by week,

as the secrets of Watergate kept
tumbling out,

Nixon's influence on
Capitol Hill steadily weakened.

In June of 1973,
an energized Congress,

reflecting the views
of a majority of Americans,

voted to stop
all military operations

in or over Vietnam,
Laos, or Cambodia

by August 15,

and insisted
that they not be resumed

without congressional approval.

"America wants peace,"

Senator Edward Kennedy
of Massachusetts declared.

"Congress is strong in its
resolve to end the killing."

To abandon the South Vietnamese,

when all we were providing them
at the end was money,

was reprehensible,

and disrespected
the sacrifices of all soldiers,

ours and the South Vietnamese.

I think the moral obligation,

that doesn't stem
from a philosophical commitment

to stopping communism.

Now it stems
from our keeping our promises

to this erstwhile,
unfortunate ally.

That they had us as the ally

where the other guys
had the Soviet Union

and communist China.

Most Americans, I think,

would not like to hear it said
that the communists

were more faithful allies
than the United States.

But that is, in fact,
what the case was.

While one regrets
that we pulled the rug out,

in some respects,

I think the ultimate outcome
would've been the same.

Had we continued,
it would have cost

probably more lives
in the long term

with no change in the outcome.

In the 18 bloody months

that followed the signing
of the peace accords,

South Vietnam's position became
more and more precarious.

But by the summer of 1974,

few Americans
were paying attention.

They were riveted by what was
happening to their own country.

...to investigate
fully and completely

whether sufficient grounds exist

for the House of Representatives

to exercise
its constitutional power

to impeach Richard M. Nixon,

president of the United States
of America.

- Mr. Danielson?
- Aye.

- Mr. Drinan?
- Aye.

- Mr. Rangel?
- Aye.

- Ms. Jordan?
- Aye.

- Mr. Lott?
- No.

On July 27, 1974,

the House Judiciary Committee
recommended

that the president be impeached
for abusing his office.

On August 9,
rather than face impeachment,

Richard Nixon became the first
president in American history

to resign.

Always remember,

others may hate you,

but those who hate you don't win

unless you hate them,

and then you destroy yourself.

At the presidential
palace in Saigon,

President Thieu closed
his office door

and refused to see anyone.

He had staked
South Vietnam's survival

on Nixon's personal pledge

that North Vietnamese aggression
would be met

by renewed American airpower.

Just a few days after
the new president, Gerald Ford,

moved into the White House,

Congress cut in half the funds

for military
and economic assistance

Nixon had promised
to deliver to Saigon.

Conditions in South Vietnam
continued to deteriorate.

With the American
military presence gone,

one out of every five
civilian workers was jobless.

Prices soared.

There were
many mistakes made by the Americans,

but the biggest mistake

was in creating
the sense of dependency.

Another mistake was in creating
an army in their own image,

an army that was used
to fighting a rich man's war.

And South Vietnam was too poor

to be able to sustain
that kind of war.

Thieu had steadily
grown more authoritarian,

closing newspapers,
restricting opposition parties,

selling political
and military appointments.

A coalition of Catholics
and Buddhists charged him

with corrupting every aspect
of South Vietnamese life,

and demanded his resignation.

Thousands of demonstrators

poured into the streets
of Saigon.

Meanwhile, the chronically
underpaid South Vietnamese Army

had its pay cut further.

It began to disintegrate.

As many as 20,000 men
were deserting each month,

most heading home to try
to help their families survive

in such hard times.

Those ARVN who stood and fought

often had to do so without
the sophisticated weaponry

they'd been trained
by the Americans to use.

Much of the equipment
Nixon had provided

was ill-suited to the war
the South was now waging,

aircraft for which
there were no trained pilots

or ground crews,

artillery and military vehicles

for which
there were no spare parts.

And the U.S. Congress
was in no mood to provide more.

Fuel ran low.

So did ammunition.

Before long, artillerymen
in the Central Highlands

could fire
just four shells a day,

and infantrymen were limited
to 85 bullets a month.

LAM QUANG THY.

In November of 1974,

the Politburo and the Central
Military Committee met in Hanoi

to discuss strategy.

Some members urged caution.

They worried that if they tried

to push Saigon to the point
of collapse too quickly,

the Americans would return.

Final victory, they calculated,
would come in 1976.

Party First Secretary Le Duan
didn't agree.

"Now that the United States
has pulled out," he said,

"it will be hard for them
to jump back in."

He ordered a test attack

to see if the Americans
would intervene with airpower

as they had
during the Easter Offensive

2 1/2 years earlier.

In December 1974,

North Vietnamese forces attacked
Phuoc Long,

northeast of Saigon.

Within three weeks, they had
overrun the entire province

and had killed or captured
thousands of ARVN defenders.

The United States
did nothing in response.

President Ford, preoccupied
with other problems...

inflation, unemployment,
tensions in the Middle East...

held a press conference

that offered
the South Vietnamese no comfort.

Are you considering

any additional measures,
beyond a supplemental,

of assistance to
the South Vietnamese government?

I am not anticipating

any further action
beyond that supplemental

at this time.

Washington
seemed to have no interest

in fulfilling the secret pledges

Nixon had repeatedly made
to Thieu.

He was stunned.

With the communist flag

planted in a provincial capital
just to the north of Saigon,

to me, the handwriting
was on the wall.

I then communicated
with my family, and told them

that even though my tour was
supposed to take me till August,

that I would be home sooner.

And then I began to quietly,
one little box at a time,

mail my possessions
out of Vietnam.

The North
Vietnamese now undertook

a new assault on cities
in the Central Highlands,

including Ban Me Thuot,

where their forces outnumbered
the over-extended ARVN

nearly six to one.

Ban Me Thuot fell in two days.

And here is
the second province to fall,

and it falls fairly quickly.

At that point, they realize,

"Well, we don't have
to wait till 1976,

we can go for it now."

Hanoi was delighted

by the Americans'
lack of response.

But all the previous offensives
Le Duan had set in motion...

in 1964,

in 1968,

in 1972...

had ended in failure.

This time, he turned
to General Vo Nguyen Giap,

the architect of the great
victory over the French

at Dien Bien Phu,

who had been sidelined
during the Tet Offensive.

For weeks, the ARVN top command

had warned Thieu
that his already weakened forces

were spread too thinly;

that it was no longer possible
to defend the entire country.

He had angrily resisted.

But now, suddenly,
he changed his mind.

Thieu ordered his troops
to abandon the highlands,

to withdraw under fire

and then regroup in order
to retake Ban Me Thuot.

It would have been
a near-impossible task

with a carefully
worked-out plan.

Thieu had none.

The result would be disaster.

Within a week,

Pleiku and Kon Tum
were in enemy hands.

According to Western diplomats
here in Saigon,

the South Vietnamese are
quitting the Central Highlands

because they hope
to avoid a complete rout.

The withdrawal is said
to be an attempt

to save men and equipment
that may become sorely needed

in other, more heavily populated
parts of the country.

As the ARVN fled south,

400,000 civilians
fled with them.

The enemy blocked the main roads

so that they had to
take a disused back road.

Thousands died,

killed
by North Vietnamese shells

and machine gun fire,

trampled by fellow refugees,

run over by retreating tanks,

blown apart by
South Vietnamese bombs

dropped by pilots who mistook
them for the enemy.

Reporters called it
the "Convoy of Tears."

Then, Hue fell.

On March 29, 1975,

the North Vietnamese
entered Danang,

South Vietnam's
second-largest city.

Civilians and soldiers
alike tried to flee.

"Danang was not captured,"
an American reporter remembered.

"It disintegrated
in its own terror."

On the same beach
where the U.S. Marines

had landed
nearly ten years earlier,

beginning America's combat
involvement in Vietnam,

16,000 ARVN soldiers
fought for space

with 75,000 terrified civilians

aboard an improvised fleet
of freighters and fishing boats

headed south for Cam Ranh Bay,
Vung Tau, and Saigon;

anywhere they thought Northern
troops might not follow.

Thousands drowned struggling
to reach the boats.

Thousands more were killed
by enemy shells

raining down on the beach.

Danang, Tam Ky,

Quang Ngai, Qui Nhon,

Nha Trang, Cam Ranh Bay.

The North Vietnamese
kept moving closer and closer

to Saigon.

It was stunning
to sit there in Saigon,

writing the daily ledes

on the fall of all these places.

You just were overwhelmed

with ten years' worth of history

and seeing
all of it come unglued.

At the end of March,

18 North Vietnamese divisions,

with five in reserve,

were now arrayed

against, basically,
six South Vietnamese divisions.

The manpower imbalance

was about three or four to one,
in favor of the communists.

This was breathtaking.

The North Vietnamese now decided

to move against Saigon

and take it before Ho Chi Minh's
birthday on May 19.

It became clear
to Thomas Polgar,

the C.I.A. station chief
in Saigon,

that the time had come to begin
preparing for an evacuation.

There were still
some 5,000 Americans in Saigon,

and there were also as many

as 200,000 South Vietnamese
and their families

who had cooperated
with the United States.

But Ambassador
Graham Martin disagreed.

He was a resolute Cold Warrior,

who had been appointed
to reassure Thieu

of continuing American backing,

and his feelings
had only been intensified

by the death of his son
in Vietnam.

He had not been
appointed ambassador,

he had told an aide,

to "give Vietnam away
to the communists."

The C.I.A. was being alarmist,
he said.

There would be
no attack on Saigon,

and, therefore, no evacuation.

President Thieu also continued
to insist all was not lost.

The ARVN were ready to
"fight on to the last bullet

and the last grain of rice,"
he said.

Just 40 miles east of Saigon,

North Vietnamese forces attacked

the town of Xuan Loc
on Highway One,

the last obstacle
on their way to Saigon.

Although they were outnumbered
and outgunned,

the South Vietnamese
commander refused to retreat.

He was determined to keep
the enemy from his capital.

You're certain
that you can hold Xuan Loc?

Surely, surely.

I am certain to you.

I am sure with you
I can hold Xuan Loc.

Even the enemies uses,
you know, the double forces

or maybe three time
more than my forces.

But no problem, sir.

No problem.

A vast human tragedy

has befallen our friends
in Vietnam and Cambodia.

On April 10,

President Ford appealed
to a joint session of Congress

for emergency aid to Saigon.

If they refused and Saigon fell,

Congress, not the White House,
should take the blame.

Under five presidents
and 12 Congresses,

the United States
was engaged in Indochina.

Millions of Americans served,

thousands died,

and many more were wounded,
imprisoned, or lost.

The president asked
Congress for $722 million

in military aid.

There was no applause.

Most legislators,
and their constituents,

thought it was too late
to make any difference.

In the end, Congress voted
against any military aid.

I didn't think that it is good

for a big nation like the U.S.
to behave like that.

Because by that time,

we didn't ask for the blood
of American soldiers.

I mean, the last minute, they
washed their hands like that.

It is not up to a diplomat
to use strong words

against the American,

but I felt
deeply sorry about it.

We broke every rule in
the book to get people out,

the young officers did,

while the ambassador
continued to stonewall

both the embassy and Washington.

Evacuation plans
were finally drawn up.

There were four options:

sealift by cargo ships anchored
in the port of Saigon,

airlift by commercial airliner,

a military airlift,

and, as a last resort,

evacuation by flights
of helicopters

to a flotilla
of U.S. Navy ships

in the South China Sea.

Ambassador Martin continued
to show little interest.

The slightest sign
that the United States

would abandon South Vietnam,
he said,

would produce panic
in the streets.

On April 21,

Xuan Loc finally fell
to the North Vietnamese.

The ARVN had valiantly held
on for 12 bloody days.

Highway One was
now open all the way to Saigon.

That evening,
President Thieu resigned.

Four clays later, the C.I.A.
would spirit Thieu to Taiwan,

where an American emissary
brought him

a private message
from President Ford.

It was not a good time for him
to visit America.

Antiwar feelings
were too strong.

"It is so easy to be an enemy
of the United States,"

Thieu said,

"but so difficult
to be a friend."

News of Thieu's resignation

had sent thousands
of panicked Vietnamese

rushing to Tan Son Nhut Airport,

hoping to get out
of their country.

Some had exit visas;
many did not.

Marines did what they could
to establish order.

Master Sergeant Juan Valdez was
the noncommissioned officer

in charge of Marine Corps
Security Guards in Saigon.

He had been one
of the first Marines

to land in Vietnam in 1965.

People were trying
to bribe the Marines.

You know, they were bringing
money out there, jewelry,

to get them out of the country.

I think just about every Marine
that was at the gate

encountered this type of bribes.

But they had to refuse them,
yeah, yeah.

Duong Van Mai Elliott's family

had fled Hanoi in 1954,

leaving behind
her older sister, Thang,

who had joined
Ho Chi Minh's forces.

Now, 2O years later,

with the North Vietnamese
closing in on Saigon,

they were faced
with the prospect

of fleeing once again.

My mother didn't want to leave.

She said she didn't want
to be a refugee again.

She had been a refugee
too many times.

Plus, my sister Thang
was about to arrive

and meet us
after all these years.

She said she wanted
to stay and see Thang.

My father was determined
to leave,

because he was afraid that
if we stayed, we'd be killed.

He got mad at my mother,
and they argued,

but in the end,
my mother yielded

to his, uh, insistence that
we should... they should leave.

I knew that
the end was approaching.

When you are at the center
of the storm,

you have to get out.

When I myself
and my immediate family,

and my father
and his immediate family,

went to the Tan Son Nhut
Airport,

through the whole thing I said,
"This is crazy, you know.

Why, why do we have to leave
under these conditions?"

It was so humiliating.

And I carry that humiliation
with me to the United States.

When I get in line
to sign up for a job,

you know, I was a...

I remind them of the war
in Vietnam,

which the Americans hate.

You have to lose a nation
and a dream

to feel...
to feel that humiliation.

We have always sent a wreath

to his grave at Arlington.

Partly in remembrance,
of course, of him,

but also thinking, if other
grieving people are there,

or just people that are
visiting to pay their respects,

that it's good for them to know
that people are,

that the soldiers are
remembered.

Today...

America can regain
the sense of pride

that existed before Vietnam.

But it cannot be achieved
by refighting a war

that is finished as far
as America is concerned.

On April 27, 1975,

rockets landed in the heart
of Saigon.

It was the signal for
the North Vietnamese to begin

their main assault on the city.

They attacked from five sides,

"like a hurricane,"
their commander said.

The White House ordered
all American cargo ships

to sail out to sea
without waiting

to take on any passengers.

There now could be
no organized sealift.

When the
communists began shelling

the seaside town of Vung Tau,
just southeast of Saigon,

thousands of terrified people

clambered into any vessel
they could find

in hope of rescue
by the Americans.

Before the exodus ended,

more than 60,000 refugees
from Vung Tau

would be picked up.

But thousands more
were left behind,

floating helplessly at sea.

At the American Embassy,

Ambassador Martin cabled
Henry Kissinger,

now secretary of state,

that "It is
the unanimous opinion

"of the senior personnel here

that there will be no direct
or serious attack on Saigon."

A lot of us began to wonder

whether he had lost grip
on reality.

He had come down with pneumonia
in the final days.

He was terribly enfeebled.

And it's possible
this affected his judgment.

Evacuation planners
had quietly designated

two spots within the embassy

as potential helicopter
landing zones-

a courtyard that could
accommodate large choppers,

and the helipad
on the embassy roof,

meant for smaller ones.

An old tamarind tree stood
in the center of the courtyard.

Again and again, the Marines
asked Ambassador Martin

for permission to cut it down

so as not to interfere
with the lift-offs and landings

they were certain
would soon have to begin.

He always refused.

That tree was a symbol
of American resolve, he said.

Cutting it down would send
the wrong message.

Meanwhile,
General Duong Van Minh,

who had been part of the coup

that overthrew President Diem
12 years earlier,

was sworn in as the new
president of South Vietnam.

He called for an immediate
cease-fire

and asked that Americans leave
within 24 hours.

On April 29,
at 3:58 in the morning,

North Vietnamese rockets
began falling

on Tan Son Nhut Airport.

The North Vietnamese were just“.

Walking these shells...

these big 130-millimeter
artillery shells

all over the airfield,

destroying the runway,
basically.

It was close enough

that you could hear
the incoming go overhead.

Two Marine guards,

Lance Corporal Darwin Judge,
of Marshalltown, Iowa,

and Corporal Charles McMahon,
Jr., of Woburn, Massachusetts,

were killed in the barrage...

the last American servicemen
to die in Vietnam.

# All along the watchtower... #

I still blame the ambassador.

This shouldn't have happened.

You know, if the ambassador
had taken action

and gotten people out of there,
which he was supposed to,

this would have never happened.

The runways were cratered

and blocked by wrecked planes,

littered with jettisoned bombs
and fuel tanks.

The Americans had run out
of evacuation options.

It was time to call in
the helicopters

from the offshore fleet.

There was no way

all of the remaining
South Vietnamese

could be evacuated.

The tamarind tree
in the embassy compound

was finally hacked down

so helicopters could
begin landing.

So they had to chop
this big tamarind tree clown,

cut it in pieces, tow it away.

And then they had to get
the fire department

to wash all the debris
and everything

so when the choppers land,

they wouldn't suck up
all those debris

into the, uh, into the engines.

Just after 11:00 a.m.,

a prearranged signal to evacuate
was broadcast

over a special radio
frequency in the capital:

"The temperature in Saigon is
105 degrees and rising."

# I'm dreaming... #

It was supposed to
be followed by Bing Crosby

singing "White Christmas."

But the disc jockey
couldn't find the record

and played Tennessee Ernie
Ford's version instead.

Americans and Vietnamese
with proper papers

gathered at pre-arranged
collection points

and boarded convoys of buses.

Angry South Vietnamese beat
on the sides of the vehicles

as they moved
through the crowded streets

to the airport.

Philip Caputo, now covering
the fall of Saigon,

was among the evacuees.

We were evacuated
from Tan Son Nhut Air Base.

But we drove past the embassy,
and you just saw this scrum,

this horde of people
pressing up against the walls,

and Marines standing on the wall

and gun-butting people to,
uh, to keep them...

to keep them from pouring
over the walls.

The evacuees at
the airport were divided

into helicopter teams
of 50 each,

and led down a long hallway
to the tarmac.

Someone in Caputo's group joked

about finally seeing "light
at the end of the tunnel."

The choppers take off.

And they're flying, uh...
flying toward the coast.

And you could look down
and all you could see,

all around Saigon,
all around the airfield,

were just these plumes of smoke
from burning buildings,

from exploding artillery shells.

And I'll never forget
going over that coastline,

seeing the entire 7th Fleet...
dozens and dozens...

and this enormous fleet
out there like that.

And I just remember this sense
of, of disbelief, completely.

Disbelief and relief
at the same time.

There were anywhere
from 10,000 to 12,000 people

surrounding the embassy.

We're supposed to get Americans
out of there.

And we were supposed to get
South Vietnamese

that worked for us
in the embassy.

The C.I.A. was behind us,

and they were pointing
at the people

who were supposed to get out.

But every time you reached out
to grab a specific individual,

other people
were grabbing your hands

and trying to pull you down
with them, you know,

so that you could help them out.

Some Americans
had left so rapidly,

they'd left the radios behind.

So their Vietnamese friends
were on the radios

begging to be rescued.

"I'm Han, the driver."

"I'm Mr. Ngoc,
your translator."

I realized what the Americans
had often done in Vietnam.

They had forgotten
that these were human beings.

My experience in Vietnam

had often been like
a B-52 strike from on high.

I never had to confront
the consequences of my action.

I could just
let the bomb doors open

and still remain detached.

Elsewhere in the embassy,

Marines frantically destroyed
classified documents.

The top of the roof
had two big incinerators

right underneath
the helicopter pad.

And the Marines
burned classified material

around the clock.

But to my understanding,
even when we left,

there was still
classified material left behind.

Well, when the choppers
finally began coming in,

the downdraft
ripped open those bags

and there was
classified material

all over the parking lot.

When the North Vietnamese
arrived,

they apparently Scotch-taped
that material back together

and it became a blood list
that they could use

to track down people,
Vietnamese, who'd worked for us.

Embassy officials
dumped bags of currency

into an oil drum

and set it afire.

Millions of dollars
in contingency funds

went up in smoke.

"This will be the final message
from Saigon station,"

the C.I.A. chief Thomas Polgar
wired to Washington.

"It has been a long fight
and we have lost.

"Those who fail to learn
from history

"are forced to repeat it.

"Let us hope that we will not
have another Vietnam experience

"and that we have
learned our lesson.

Saigon signing off."

More than 50 U.S. helicopters

now crisscrossed the sky
over Saigon,

picking up evacuees
from designated rooftops,

as well as the embassy,

ferrying them to the fleet
far out at sea,

then returning for more.

Some desperate
South Vietnamese officers

also commandeered helicopters

for themselves
and their families,

dangerously crowding the decks

of the American
aircraft carriers.

There was no room for them.

The image
that remains in my mind

is the picture of the helicopter

being pushed over the side
of the carrier.

The helicopter
was everything in Vietnam.

I mean, it was dust-off,
it was resupply,

it was fire support,
it was everything.

All I could think of was:
what a waste, what a waste.

As I watched that all unfold,

I, I felt responsible.

I was ashamed.

We had told these people

that we would be there
to support them

and we were not.

About 9:15 on the last night,

Polgar came and he said,
"We've got to all leave.

"We've been ordered
by headquarters to leave.

Let's go."

Ambassador Martin had
wanted to be the last man to leave.

But at about 4:00
in the morning of April 30,

a CH-46 touched down
on the embassy roof.

Its pilot carried orders
from the president himself.

Martin was to leave, now.

"I guess this is it," he said.

As Martin was helped aboard,

he was handed
the furled American flag

that had flown from
the flagstaff the previous day.

He lifted off at 4:58 a.m.
and headed out to sea.

President Ford had also ordered
that from then on,

only Americans
would be evacuated.

Tens of thousands
of South Vietnamese

would be left behind,

and more than 400
were still waiting

in the embassy courtyard.

Time and again,
they had been assured

helicopters were on the way
to pick them up.

I was directed

to stay with the Vietnamese
and keep them warm,

meaning, "Don't give any hint

that all these promises
we made to them are for naught."

I felt sick at heart,
I had a hard time.

It was dark out,
so I didn't have to worry

about looking these folks
in the eye.

But I made my excuse and, um...

"I have to go to the bathroom."

And left into the landscaping,

circuitous route
to the back door of the embassy,

to the chancery building,

and made my way to the roof.

Some 129 Marines
remained in the compound.

They did their best

to pull back into the embassy
and up onto the roof

without alerting the Vietnamese

that they were
about to be left behind.

We locked ourselves
inside the embassy

and found ourselves
up on the roof.

It was actually after we got up
on top of the roof

that we started seeing
all these masses of people.

Some of them had already
come on the embassy compound.

And they broke those doors.

And that's how those,
uh, South Vietnamese

were able
to get inside the embassy.

This action closes a
chapter in the American experience.

The president asks all Americans
to close ranks,

to avoid recriminations
about the past,

and to work together
on the great tasks

that remain to be accomplished.

Now, to, uh, give you details of
the events of the past few days

and to answer your questions,

Secretary of State Kissinger.

Mr. Secretary,
are you confident

that all the Americans
that wanted to come out

are out of Saigon,

and do you have any idea

of the number of Americans
who remain behind?

I have no idea
of the number of Americans

that remain behind.

Uh, I am confident
that every American

who wanted to come out,

uh, is, is out.

What we need now in this country

is to heal the wounds
and to put Vietnam behind us.

An aide handed Kissinger a note.

It said that the 129 Marines

had somehow been left behind
on the embassy roof.

Helicopters were dispatched
to pick them up.

Eventually, only Sergeant Valdez

and his ten-man embassy security
unit remained.

But then, an hour went by

with no sign
of any more helicopters.

Their radio was dead.

The Marines had no way
to contact the fleet

to see if anyone was on the way.

Everything stopped.

We're being left behind.

People are sitting around
in their own little thoughts,

uh, not doing too much talking.

We pretty much decided that
we were going to fight it out,

use these small arms that we had

and just fight it to the end.

We started seeing two puffs of
smoke coming from out at sea.

As they got closer,
then we were able to determine

that they were helicopters.

It was a relief.

One of the Marines, I believe
it was Staff Sergeant Sullivan,

my assistant,

grabbed me
and started pulling me in

as the ramp's going up.

At 7:53 a.m., April 30, 1975,

the last helicopter
lifted off the embassy roof.

Master Sergeant Juan Valdez

was the last American
to climb aboard.

The government of South Vietnam

had less than five hours
to live.

President Minh spoke from
the palace at mid-morning.

He urged what was left
of the South Vietnamese Army

to stop fighting.

"We are here waiting," he said,
"to hand over the authority

in order to stop
useless bloodshed."

At noon,

North Vietnamese tanks
flying Viet Cong flags

smashed their way
through the gates

of the presidential palace.

Within hours,
victorious soldiers

were calling Saigon
"Ho Chi Minh City."

All over town, ARVN soldiers
tore off their uniforms

and did their best
to melt into the crowds.

Families burned
their photo albums

so there would be no evidence

that their sons or husbands had
ever fought for South Vietnam.

Colonel Tran Ngoc Toan had been
fighting the communists

for more than 12 years,

and had survived terrible wounds

suffered at the Battle
of Binh Gia.

He was leading what was left

of the 4th South Vietnamese
Marine Battalion

near Bien Hoa,
2O miles east of Saigon.

His commanding general
had long since

bribed his way aboard a ship
and fled the country.

An American friend had urged
Toan to get out, too.

He refused.

A South
Vietnamese police officer

walked to a memorial
built to honor

those who had fallen
defending South Vietnam.

He saluted it,
stood there for a time,

and then shot himself
in the head.

It was a very messy ending

to a very messy war.

I felt a sense of relief,

but also a sense of sadness
when it ended.

I felt relief
that the killing, destruction,

finally came to an end,

and I didn't care
which side won.

To me, Vietnam won.

Vietnamese people won

because they finally could live
normally.

And sad because I saw that
my family was again fleeing,

and this time
from their homeland,

and their future
was very uncertain.

And I knew that
with the communists taking over,

Vietnamese society
would be changed drastically.

Lo Khac Tam had been fighting

in the North Vietnamese Army
for nearly ten years now,

beginning with the bloody clash
in the Ia Drang Valley,

the first full-scale battle
of the American war.

Now he was watching
that war's end.

In Vietnam, we finally have
reached the end of the tunnel,

and there is no light there.

What is there, perhaps,
was best said by President Ford,

"a war that is finished."

I happened to be at a conference

at Tufts University,

and the dean there
was a former ambassador

who spoke to us
late on that day,

as it turned out,
the fateful day.

And he said he had just come
back from Washington,

where the spring weather
was beautiful

and the daffodils were in bloom,

to Boston, where it was gloomy
and gray as it was in his heart.

And people hissed him
and booed him.

I was there in uniform.

One of my great regrets
was that I did not get up

and start laying waste
to those people

who disrespected the ambassador

and his sorrow
at the fall of South Vietnam.

I got a call from
the V.V.A.W. national office

from some friends of mine
from the old days.

They were having
a big celebration,

drinking booze and, "Ah, well,
it's a great day, isn't it?"

And I said, "Are you nuts?"

I said,
"No, it's not a great day."

To see America leaving
like that,

after we'd given almost 60,000
of our sons and daughters,

that wasn't something
to celebrate.

I knew we were abandoning

millions of South Vietnamese
that had trusted us,

thrown in their lot with us.

That wasn't anything
to celebrate.

I thought it was just
one of the saddest moments

I'd ever seen
in American history.

So when some future politician,
for some reason,

feels the need to drag
this country into a war,

he might come out here
to Arlington,

and stand maybe
right over there somewhere,

to make his announcement
and to tell what he has in mind.

In Vietnam, the
Communist Party is triumphant.

And they have
exceptionalism, too.

And their exceptionalism
gets in their way

just like our exceptionalism
got in our way.

So they unify the country
in a military sense,

and then they, they don't really
unify the country after that.

They, they try, but they fail.

In the end,
there was no bloodbath

on the scale many had feared,

but hundreds, perhaps thousands,
of people in the countryside

are thought to have been killed

in individual acts of revenge
or political retaliation.

Those who had served
the Thieu regime,

from generals
to ordinary clerks,

were required
to undergo re-education.

Enlisted men were assured

they would only have to submit
to three days of "study."

Officers needn't attend
for more than a month.

A million and a half people

are believed to have undergone
some form of indoctrination.

ARVN cemeteries were bulldozed
or padlocked,

as if the memory of
an independent South Vietnam,

and those who had died
for that cause,

could both be obliterated.

The communists,

in their effort
to erase vestiges

of the former regime,

have not allowed
the South Vietnamese

who lost their sons in the war

to mourn, to have their graves
and to honor their memory.

It caused a division
that lasts to this day,

that the winners would not
accommodate the losers

in some way.

After 30 yea rs of war,
much of Vietnam lay in ruins.

Three million people
are thought to have died,

North and South.

Still more had been wounded.

Thousands of children
fathered by American servicemen

had been left behind.

Villages needed to be rebuilt,
land had to be reclaimed.

Cities were choked
with refugees.

Millions were without work.

President Ford
imposed an economic embargo.

Washington refused to recognize
the new government of Vietnam.

But Le Duan and his allies
on the Politburo

remained optimistic.

"Nothing more can happen,"
one committee member said.

"The problems we face now
are trifles

compared to those in the past."

Le Duan resolved,
with Soviet help,

to turn all of Vietnam
into what he called

an "impregnable outpost
of the socialist system."

Hanoi forcibly collectivized
agriculture in the South,

virtually abolished capitalism,

nationalized industries,

and appointed planners
to run it all

along strict communist lines.

The result would be
economic disaster.

Inflation rose
as high as 700% a year.

People starved.

To compound its problems,

Vietnam found itself,
once again, at war,

caught between the interests
of the two communist powers

that had once been
its staunchest allies,

China and the Soviet Union.

After the brutal Maoist regime
in Cambodia

raided border areas,

Vietnamese troops, with
Soviet arms and encouragement,

crossed the frontier in 1978
and overthrew it.

A frustrating ten-year

counterinsurgency campaign
followed

that some called
"Vietnam's Vietnam."

Before it was over,

the Vietnamese would lose
some 50,000 more men,

almost as many as the Americans
had lost in their war.

Meanwhile, communist China,

determined to punish Vietnam
for invading Cambodia,

and to show Moscow
it would not have a free hand

in Southeast Asia,

sent 85,000 troops
storming into northern Vietnam.

They devastated areas
along the border

before the Vietnamese
pushed them back.

The South China Sea, 1978.

They come ashore
at the rate of 10,000 a month,

much faster than the United
States or any other nation

is willing to accept them.

They come chasing
an elusive memory:

the promise of America.

A million and a half people
would eventually flee Vietnam:

supporters
of the old Saigon regime,

refugees
from the renewed fighting

along the Cambodian border,

and ethnic Chinese
residents of Vietnam,

whom the new government
had treated especially harshly.

Hundreds of thousands
of the boat people died.

Others suffered in refugee camps

throughout Southeast Asia.

Some 400,000 eventually
made it to America,

where they settled
in nearly every state,

industrious, entrepreneurial,

more eager to take part
in American political life

and more likely to become
American citizens

than other immigrant groups
from Asia.

But for that first generation
of Vietnamese Americans,

memories of their homeland
could never be erased.

I remember I was

with one of my daughters, uh...

at an intersection and some guy
came up behind me

and blasted the horn.

When I came to my senses,

I was on the hood of his car,

about to, trying to kick
his windshield in.

And I went... and there's people
all over looking at me.

I mean, this is crazy.
This is crazy.

And then I started going,
"Well, this is weird."

I sort of slinked back
to my car and, you know,

my daughter, she's about four,
looking at me,

"Wow, what's that all about?"

And I go,
"What is that all about?"

I had no idea.

I had no idea that it was
even related to the war.

It is as old as war itself.

The ancient Greeks
called it "divine madness."

It was "soldier's heart"
in the Civil War,

"shell shock" during
the First World War

and "combat fatigue"
in the Second.

Following Vietnam,
it was given a new name,

Post-Traumatic
Stress Disorder...

PTSD.

And what you learn
is that PTSD doesn't go away.

But now if someone
honks the horn,

and it startles me, I'm still...

My heart rate's still
going to go up,

and it'll be there for five
minutes and I'm like this.

But, "Ten, nine,
it's just some asshole,

"he's had a bad day at work,
eight, seven, six,

"it's not... no one's shooting
at you, you're safe,

it's seven, six, five, four,
three, two, one."

And I can control it,

whereas I couldn't do it before

because I didn't understand
what was going on.

Adding to the
pain many veterans felt

was their country's
eagerness to forget the war.

There were few parades.

In many ways, everyone
came home from Vietnam alone.

When I got home,

and my mom and dad were there,

my brothers and sisters,
my wife.

And we're embracing and...

I couldn't relate to my wife
or my mother what I had seen,

what I had done in Vietnam.

I could've talked
to my brothers about it,

but they, they knew
I didn't want to.

And so it just, uh,
something unsaid, you know.

"Welcome back, Vince.

You've been through the,
the wringer, but welcome back."

In April 1981,

a panel of eight architects
and sculptors

gathered in an airplane hangar

at Andrews Air Force Base
outside Washington.

They were there to choose
the winning design

for a Vietnam memorial
for the nation's capital

from more
than 1,400 submissions.

The memorial was the brainchild
of a single stubborn veteran,

a former rifleman
named Jan Scruggs,

who, after suffering
a frightening flashback,

told his wife he wanted
to "build a memorial

"to all the guys
who served in Vietnam.

It'll have the name
of everyone killed."

With other veterans,

he established
a nonprofit organization,

the Vietnam Veterans
Memorial Fund,

and went to work collecting
money and making plans.

In the end,
some 650,000 Americans

would contribute more
than $8 million.

The judges chose
submission number 1026.

21-year-old Maya Ying Lin,

an architect student
at Yale University,

got the $20,000 prize.

Her winning design is comprised

of two elongated triangles
of black granite,

inset into a hill
and inscribed with the names

of the 57,692 men and women
who died in the war.

Lin, whose parents emigrated
from China in the 1940s to Ohio,

thought she wouldn't win

because her design
was too strange and too strong.

I had a general idea that
I wanted to describe a journey,

a journey that would
make you experience death

and where you'd have
to be an observer,

where you could never really
fully be with the dead.

It wasn't going to be something
that was going to say,

"It's all right, it's all over,"

because it's not.

Differences about the war

colored people's feelings
about the proposed design.

Some who believed that the war
had been unjust and immoral

feared the monument was
somehow meant to glorify it.

Others feared its stark design
failed to do justice

to the cause for which
Americans had fought.

The writer Tom Wolfe
dismissed it

as "a tribute to Jane Fonda."

I don't care
about artistic perceptions.

One needs no artistic education

to see this memorial design
for what it is:

a black scar.

Black, the universal color

of sorrow and shame
and degradation

in all races and all societies
worldwide.

In a hole,
hidden as if out of shame.

Mr. Chairman,
members of the commission,

I speak as an individual,

a member from
the general public.

What are the memorable images
from the war in Vietnam?

A guerrilla,

shot at point-blank range.

A naked girl, afire, running,

screaming down a dusty road.

I think Maya Lin was right

in going beyond
these kinds of images.

She resolved all the pain and
conflict of that unhappy time

in a simple message of sacrifice
and quiet heroism.

In an official vote of
support for Maya Lin's design,

the American Gold Star Mothers
spoke for many.

"Nowadays," they said,

"patriotism is
a complicated matter.

"But perhaps that is why

"the V-shaped,
black granite lines

"merging gently
with the sloping earth

"convey the only point
about the war

"on which people may agree:

that those who died
should be remembered."

# When you're weary #

# Feeling small #

# When tears are in your eyes #

# I'll dry them all. #

As you got out of the
car and you approached the wall,

the intensity of which,
it grabs you...

You go UP»-

You see the names,

you touch the names...

It's intense.

# Bridge over troubled water #

# I will lay me down. #

I did not like

the Vietnam wall.

I considered it
an ugly, black ditch

and that it said
the only people that, uh...

to be commemorated are the dead,

not because they're heroes,
but because they're victims.

I didn't go.

Until...

one year...

they were going to put
the wreath in front of...

the name of my roommate.

I had, I had to go.

So I've gone
every year since then

to remember those we, we lost.

And, um...

I walk down to the far left

and I run my fingers
over that name.

You go to that wall,

and even my son, who was nine
years old when I first took him,

and you see over 58,000 names,

and you know that unwritten
behind or beside each name,

there's a mother or a father
or a wife or a daughter

whose lives
were forever shattered

by that damn war.

I've been to
the wall, more than once.

When I look back
at the war and, you know,

think of the horrible things,
you know,

we said to, you know,
vets who were returning,

you know, calling them
"baby killers" and worse,

I, you know...
I feel very sad about that.

I can only say that,
you know, we were kids, too,

you know, just like they were.

It grieves me,
it grieves me today.

It pains me to think
of the things that I said

and that we said.

And I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

I didn't want to go.

And it was
a beautiful summer morning.

Went to the Lincoln Memorial
first.

A comforting place to be.

And...

And then crossed the street and
walked in towards the entrance.

And, as you know, at first,
you can't really see the wall,

and you're coming down
into the grassy hill.

And when I caught sight of it,

I literally lost my breath.

Of course, I wept.

I had help getting lifted up
so I could touch it.

I found my brother's name.

I looked at my brother's name

in the company
of all those other people.

There was sadness.

But now he wasn't alone, either.

He was in the company of people.

And he was there

for people to know
and to think about.

And he wasn't forgotten.

And he wasn't lost.

It was incredibly healing
and freeing for me.

As I was walking towards it
from the reflecting pool,

there were so many names
on those walls.

And all of a sudden,
my throat swole up,

and I thought, "I can't do this.

I can't do this right now."

And I collapsed.

And all the tears
I'd been holding back...

I didn't cry, I sobbed.

I was on my knees, sobbing.

I couldn't stop,
I couldn't get my breath.

And I was so grateful to God
that it was there.

I thought,

"This is going to save lives.

This is going to save lives."

I was struck by its beauty

and how at peace
Vietnam looked from the air.

I had a sense of anticipation
in my body.

I had worked hard
for many months with others

to organize this trip
and to negotiate our arrival

with the Vietnamese government.

How do you do?

Toi ten Tom Vallely.

I came back to
Vietnam as a veteran

to learn from history,

and to see
how the place had changed.

There had only been
200 Americans

that had been to Vietnam
since 1975,

and most of them
had been correspondents

and had been in the South.

Many of the kids,
you'd walk down the street,

and they'd go,
"Lien Xo, lien Xo,"

which means "Russian."

And you'd go, “No lien Xo,

toi la nguoi My"...
"I'm an American."

And their face would light up,
and they'd go, "American!"

And it would spread
like wildfire

through the schoolyard,
or the street

that Americans were here.

And they'd come out and
they'd be very, very friendly.

Good bye.

Goodbye!
Goodbye!

Tom Vallely had served
with the Marines in Vietnam.

16 years later,
the country drew him back.

He founded the Vietnam Program

of the Kennedy School
at Harvard,

and helped educate some of
the country's future leaders.

I got very, very involved
in the reconnecting

between the United States
and Vietnam,

and how that reconnection
takes place,

I spent a decade of my life
putting those pieces together.

Although the United States

did not have diplomatic
relations with Vietnam,

veterans had begun
coming back on their own,

revisiting places
where they had fought...

...meeting old foes...

...planting trees
and building schools,

trying to put the war
behind them.

Vallely worked closely
with other veterans,

including three
United States senators,

who became among the most
influential American advocates

for normalizing relations:

John McCain from Arizona,

who had endured six years
as a prisoner of war;

John Kerry from Massachusetts,

the ex-commander
of a Swift Boat;

and Bob Kerrey of Nebraska,

a former Navy SEAL.

Their task would not be easy.

Hanoi insisted
the United States make good

on a promise to provide funds
for reconstruction.

For its part,
the United States demanded

a complete accounting

of the 2,500 Americans
whose remains

had never been recovered.

Hanoi, which had more than
300,000 missing of its own,

refused to cooperate.

But events both within Vietnam
and far beyond its borders

slowly moved things along.

Le Duan died in 1986.

His successors adopted
what they called doi moi,

a more pragmatic reformist
economic policy.

As the Cold War ended,
Soviet aid disappeared,

and Hanoi finally began
to help U.S. military teams

search for American remains.

The architects of normalization

are the Vietnamese.

It's not the Americans.

And the normalization of Vietnam

is a strategy of the
Vietnamese Communist Party

to join the world.

They want to join the world.

And the United States makes it
hard for them to join the world.

So John McCain insists,

"Yeah, you want
to have normalization?

All your prisoners need to be
out of re-education camp."

"You want normalization?"

John Kerry... "1 need all the
information about the missing."

In 1994,

after the Vietnamese
met the Americans' demands,

the United States
lifted its trade embargo.

Full normalization
came the following year.

The new American ambassador
was Pete Peterson,

who had spent six years
in Hanoi as a P.O.W.

In November of 2000,

President Bill Clinton
traveled to Vietnam,

the first American president
to visit that country

since Richard Nixon reviewed
U.S. troops there

31 years earlier.

Now we can say something

that was once unimaginable:

Today, Vietnam and the
United States are partners.

We have shown
that hearts can change,

and that a different future
is possible

when we refuse
to be prisoners of the past.

I went back to Vietnam.

I got in touch with
a provincial vets organization.

This is a huge organization
of Vietnamese vets,

all former enemies.

All former enemies.

But now,
mellowed quite a bit, like me.

You know, they're guys my age,
grandpas.

And after we got past the
initial checking each other out,

and is this a political thing
or not,

they could not have been
more gracious and more loving.

They took me under their wing
like a brother soldier.

We exchanged painful memories,
stories.

And I did a little ceremony
honoring the guys I'd lost,

honoring the Vietnamese enemies
that we'd killed.

And just telling them, you know,
they could be at peace now.

It was a wonderful,
wonderful trip.

You know, you don't...

You don't get closure,
but you get some peace.

You get some peace...
got some peace.

In Vietnam, the
land has largely healed.

Old animosities
have mostly been buried.

But ghosts remain.

Americans and Vietnamese

work together to clean up places

where Agent Orange
has poisoned the earth.

Unexploded ordnance,
half-hidden in the ground,

still takes lives each year.

Aged mothers and fathers
from northern Vietnam

still roam the south,

seeking to discover

what happened
to their sons and daughters.

As we finally came
lurching out of Vietnam...

We were beginning
to doubt ourselves.

And, uh, that's a foreign
feeling for an American.

We, we seldom doubt ourselves.

This turned out to be the most
bitter, the most divisive...

or second-most bitter
and second-most divisive...

war in our entire history.

And we still hurt because of it.

We have feelings of guilt
about Vietnam.

More than four
decades after the war ended,

the divisions it created
between Americans

have not yet wholly healed.

Lessons were learned
and then forgotten;

divides were bridged
and then widened;

old secrets were revealed and
new secrets were locked away.

The Vietnam War was a tragedy,

immeasurable and irredeemable.

But meaning can be found
in the individual stories

of those who lived through it,

stories of courage
and comradeship

and perseverance,

of understanding and forgiveness

and, ultimately, reconciliation.

"They shared
the weight of memory.

"They took up what others
could no longer bear.

"Often, they carried each other,
the wounded or weak.

"They carried infections.

"They carried chess sets,

"basketballs,

"Vietnamese-English
dictionaries,

"insignia of rank,
Bronze Stars and Purple Hearts,

"plastic cards imprinted
with the Code of Conduct.

"They carried diseases,

"among them malaria
and dysentery.

"They carried lice and ringworm
and leeches,

"paddy algae
and various rots and molds.

"They carried the land
itself... Vietnam,

"the place, the soil...

"a powdery orange-red dust

"that covered their boots
and fatigues and faces.

"They carried the sky.

"The whole atmosphere,

"they carried it...

"the humidity, the monsoons,

"the stink of fungus and decay,
all of it.

"They carried gravity.

"They moved like mules.

"By daylight,
they took sniper fire;

"at night, they were mortared.

"They crawled into tunnels
and walked point

"and advanced under fire.

"But it was not battle,

"it was just the endless march,

"village to village.

"They marched for the sake
of the march.

"They plodded along slowly,
dumbly,

"leaning forward
against the heat, unthinking,

"all blood and bone,
simple grunts,

"soldiering with their legs,

"toiling up the hills
and down into the paddies

"and across the rivers and up
again and down, just humping,

"one step and then the next
and then another.

"They made their legs move.

They endured."

# When I find myself
in times of trouble #

# Mother Mary comes to me #

# Speaking words of wisdom #

# Let it be #

# And in my hour of darkness #

# She is standing
right in front of me #

# Speaking words of wisdom #

# Let it be #

# Let it be, let it be #

# Let it be, let it be #

# Whisper words of wisdom #

# Let it be #

# And when the brokenhearted
people #

# Living in the world agree #

# There will be an answer #

# Let it be #

# For though
they may be parted #

# There is still a chance
that they will see #

# There will be an answer #

# Let it be #

# Let it be, let it be #

# Let it be, let it be #

# Yeah,
there will be an answer #

# Let it be #

# Let it be, let it be #

# Let it be, yeah, let it be #

# Whisper words of wisdom #

# Let it be #

# And when the night is cloudy #

# There is still a light
that shines on me #

# Shine until tomorrow #

# Let it be #

# I wake up
to the sound of music #

# Mother Mary comes to me #

# Speaking words of wisdom #

# Let it be #

# Yeah, let it be, let it be #

# Let it be, yeah, let it be #

# There will be an answer #

# Let it be #

# Let it be, let it be #

# Let it be, yeah, let it be #

# There will be an answer #

# Let it be #

# Let it be, let it be #

# Let it be, yeah, let it be #

# Whisper words of wisdom #

# Let it be. #