Tuesday, May 07, 2013

Oops. This post has been deleted.


Sorry, but I've deleted this post. The original post told of a true story, but attributed it to the wrong person. There's no room for inaccuracies on this blog. I took it down. Sorry.
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Monday, May 06, 2013

A most astounding new friend --- the man who built the Ho Chi Minh Trail

His name is Nguyen Dan. He's 89 years old and he's blind. In 1941 he fought the Japanese when they invaded Vietnam. When the Japanese surrendered, the French returned and he fought them. When the United States stuck its head into Vietnam affairs, Dan fought them as well. In 1966, he was in charge of a project that many military historians believe made what was then called North Vietnam impossible to defeat --- he was in charge of building what would come to be known as the Ho Chi Minh Trail. Despite the fact that the Laos government had signed the The International Agreement on the Neutrality of Laos and promised to allow no foreign armies to use its land in the Vietnam conflict, Dan says the Laos government gave a wink and a nod to North Vietnam. Because Vietnam had helped Laos in it's fight against France, Laos agreed to look the other way and allow Dan's Engineer Regiment to build the now famous, hidden highway through the mountainous jungles of eastern Laos. Even though the U.S. dropped more bombs on that part of Laos than they had dropped on Europe in World War II, nothing could stop the North Vietnamese from sending hundreds of thousands of soldiers through Laos and Cambodia and into South Vietnam. Dan described for us how U.S. aircraft poured Agent Orange over the trail. They were soaking wet in the deadly goo. Then the rains came, he said, and washed the Agent Orange into the streams --- streams they used for bathing, cooking and even drinking. It was the Agent Orange, the doctors told him, that robbed him of his vision. He welcomed us into his home. We met his childhood bride --- the woman who also helped him build the trail. He told us that he holds no animosity toward the United States. He believes in peace. He asked me to tell the American people that we should all live in peace. He told us that we are all residents of the earth and that we are one. He called me his brother. He shook my hand a dozen times and welcomed me in his Hanoi home whenever I wanted to visit. I hope I can visit him again. After all, he's family. We're all family.
Nguyen Dan built the Ho Chi Minh Trail.               -- Pierre Beauregard Photo


His name is Nguyen Dan (pronounced Wen Zan). He's 89 years old and he's blind. In 1941 he fought the Japanese when they invaded Vietnam. When the Japanese surrendered, the French returned and he fought them. When the United States stuck its head into Vietnam affairs, Dan fought them as well. In 1966, he was in charge of a project that many military historians believe made what was then called North Vietnam impossible to defeat --- he was in charge of building what would come to be known as the Ho Chi Minh Trail. Despite the fact that the Laos government had signed the 1962 Geneva Accords, the International Agreement on the Neutrality of Laos and promised not to allow foreign armies to use its land, Dan says the Laos government gave a wink and a nod to North Vietnam. 

Because Vietnam had helped Laos in it's fight against France, Laos agreed to look the other way and allow Dan's Engineer Regiment to build the now famous, hidden highway through the mountainous jungles of eastern Laos. Even though the U.S. dropped more bombs on that part of Laos than they had dropped on Europe in World War II, nothing could stop the North Vietnamese from sending hundreds of thousands of soldiers, trucks, tanks, guns and munitions through Laos and Cambodia and into South Vietnam. Dan described for us how U.S. aircraft poured Agent Orange over the trail. They were soaking wet in the deadly goo. Then the rains came, he said, and washed the Agent Orange into the streams --- streams they used for bathing, cooking and even drinking.

It was the Agent Orange, the doctors told him, that robbed him of his vision.

He welcomed us into his home. We met his childhood bride --- the woman who also helped him build the trail. He told us that he holds no animosity toward the United States. He believes in peace. He asked me to tell the American people that we should all live in peace. He told us that we are all residents of the earth and that we are one. He called me his brother. He shook my hand a dozen times and welcomed me in his Hanoi home whenever I wanted to visit. I hope I can visit him again. After all, he's family. We're all family.
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Sunday, May 05, 2013

Dispatches from Vietnam and Laos -- The End of the Runway

I've been posting a lot of stuff on facebook and have neglected the people to whom I promised I would send updates and photographs. We're so busy here in Vietnam that I'm always too tired to compose posts to the blog. So I'm testing to see if I can paste the facebook postings. Will people who are not subscribers to facebook be able to go to the links? Please e t me know if it works.

This first set of posts is about the journey I've dreamed of taking --- I've dreamed of it for the past 45 years. But first, I'm giving you a link to a short film I shot of the Soc Trang Army Airfield in 1968. If you were to stop the film at about eight seconds into it, you'll see the place I would end up at all these years later.


 Here are the related facebook posts in the order that I posted them. Please let me know if I should include the people's comments after each post. I plan to send more dispatches --- each with its own theme. Feedback, please.
April 24
Pete and I have hired a car and driver to take us to Soc Trang, where I served most of the time I was in Vietnam. This will be the emotional part for me. I'll report back.
Thanks for your support.
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Don Ray
April 25

It felt like a page out of The Wizard of Oz. We ended up hiring a taxi with a driver, Thanh, who spoke no English. His friend, Duc, arranged it. Duc runs the camera shop near our hotel. He's a problem solver who was available all day to translate from afar. It took four hours to get to Soc Trang. Once we were there, it became a classic comedy as we tried to find any one of several things that would help us locate former airfield: Someone who speaks very good English. A map of Soc Trang. A computer with Internet access. After Thanh spent an hour or two asking people for directions to "the airport" (I knew it was no longer an airport, but I couldn't communicate that to him). It would always take us to a modern-day Vietnamese military airport --- which was clearly not the one I needed to find. Finally, I tried for the English-speaking person. We hopped from one hotel to another in the hope that someone at the front desk could speak English. If I could only describe a couple of landmarks and locate them, I could find my way to the former airfield where I left my youth. Eventually, we found one woman, Hoa, who said she spoke good English. It's a long story, but we ended up deputizing her and another employee (no English) who was sure he knew where I wanted to go. We drove for more than an hour. Each time I felt we were close, Hoa would tell our driver something that would send him in the wrong direction. Hoa's co-worker, Fat, wanted to get out of the taxi to ask local people. I wanted the driver do drive just a little bit further. I knew in my heart that I was close. But they couldn't find Fat. I'll leave you with this comical scene: Don Ray gets out of the taxi and starts walking up the road as the sun was signalling that it was retiring for the night and taking its light with it. Hoa is running behind me calling out, "Sir! Mr. Don! Come back!"
Stay tuned.

Photo: It felt like a page out of The Wizard of Oz. We ended up hiring a taxi with a driver, Thanh, who spoke no English. His friend, Duc, arranged it. Duc runs the camera shop near our hotel. He's a problem solver who was available all day to translate from afar. It took four hours to get to Soc Trang. Once we were there, it became a classic comedy as we tried to find any one of several things that would help us locate former airfield: Someone who speaks very good English. A map of Soc Trang. A computer with Internet access. After Thanh spent an hour or two asking people for directions to "the airport" (I knew it was no longer an airport, but I couldn't communicate that to him). It would always take us to a modern-day Vietnamese military airport --- which was clearly not the one I needed to find. Finally, I tried for the English-speaking person. We hopped from one hotel to another in the hope that someone at the front desk could speak English. If I could only describe a couple of landmarks and locate them, I could find my way to the former airfield where I left my youth. Eventually, we found one woman, Hoa, who said she spoke good English. It's a long story, but we ended up deputizing her and another employee (no English) who was sure he knew where I wanted to go. We drove for more than an hour. Each time I felt we were close, Hoa would tell our driver something that would send him in the wrong direction. Hoa's co-worker, Fat, wanted to get out of the taxi to ask local people. I wanted the driver do drive just a little bit further. I knew in my heart that I was close. But they couldn't find Fat. I'll leave you with this comical scene: Don Ray gets out of the taxi and starts walking up the road as the sun was signalling that it was retiring for the night and taking its light with it. Hoa is running behind me calling out, "Sir! Mr. Don! Come back!" Stay tuned.
1Like · ·
  • Linda Chancler As the foodie that I am, this day has surely gone on too long without a meal, please tell us about the food.
  • Linda Chancler Holding breath about what happens next, a wifi signal that gives you gps coordinates?
  • William Prather Great picture for the story. Those expressions on their faces are worth 1000 words. Odd outfit on the girl, looks like a shirt with a bib on top of it - probably a sloppy eater.
  • Susan Roberts Prolly need to smoke some ganga and chill Don Ray. Next thang ya know, that airport will appear like a mirage in the desert. Lovin' the travelogue.
  • William Prather Don, you have some strange friends. Somehow I doubt she's kidding.
  • Don Ray You're talking about Susan? I don't understand what she's talking about. I don't smoke anything. But probably everyone else knows. Hoa was wearing the traditional Vietnamese outfit. I'm not sure if it's an apron as well.
  • William Prather That picture belongs on the cover of your book
  • Dave Williamson Susan was talking about smoking pot! Not sayin I know anything about that, But the big boys in the Barracks said it was fun!
  • Don Ray Hey, we're in Laos now and I'd hate to have the authorities grab my computer and see all of this talk about illegal activities. Like, chill, man? You got my groove? Right arm!
  • Jim Comer La-os! Laaaaaaaay-os! DAYLIGHT COME AND ME WANNA GO HOME!
  • Don Ray Jim, you slipped up here a little bit. You're thinking Harry Belafante. In Laos, it's more likely to be Hairy Elephant Day.
  • Marshall Thompson Interesting trip Don! Be well over there.
  • Don Ray Thanks, Marshall!!!
  • Jim Comer Actually, I was making fun of people, most of whom speak English, who think that Laos has two syllables.
  • Don Ray Diphthong song.
  • Michael Torres Enjoying your adventure!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
    April 30 at 2:21pm · Unlike · 1



    2. When we last left you in Soc Trang, Vietnam, a frustrated Don Ray had bailed out of the taxi and decided to go it on foot. His helpful entourage didn't seem to grasp that the sun was going down quickly and these were the last possible moments in which he could see that small airfield in which he had left some important part of his youth. 45 years of dreaming and longing to return had boiled down to a follow-your-nose-and-instincts run up the road. There was a wall that wasn't there before, but I knew in my heart that the airstrip was on the other side. A mound of dirt. It was just high enough to allow me to see over the wall, I thought. The helpful hotel clerk we had picked up, Hoa, was running behind me saying, "Mr. Don! Come back!" From the top of the mound, I could see buildings that hadn't been there in 1968. But it felt right. I couldn't see the ground on the other side of the wall. Then I saw the building to my left and it appeared to have a rear balcony that offered a view of what I knew was the old runway on the other side of the wall. With Hoa chasing behind me, I went up to the bars that protected the entrance to this residence. I put my hands in the prayer position as called out, "May I please take a picture from your balcony?"

      Hoa caught up with me and started to tell me that I shouldn't be doing . . . "Hoa, please, please, please translate this." A woman and her teenager daughter were walking toward the gate. Hoa came through for me. The quickly opened the gate and escorted us up the stairs and to the door to the balcony. My heart erupted in joy and the tears nearly kept me from being able to shoot the place where I had somehow, strangely, left a part of me.
      Photo: When we last left you in Soc Trang, Vietnam, a frustrated Don Ray had bailed out of the taxi and decided to go it on foot. His helpful entourage didn't seem to grasp that the sun was going down quickly and these were the last possible moments in which he could see that small airfield in which he had left some important part of his youth. 45 years of dreaming and longing to return had boiled down to a follow-your-nose-and-instincts run up the road. There was a wall that wasn't there before, but I knew in my heart that the airstrip was on the other side. A mound of dirt. It was just high enough to allow me to see over the wall, I thought. The helpful hotel clerk we had picked up, Hoa, was running behind me saying, "Mr. Don! Come back!" From the top of the mound, I could see buildings that hadn't been there in 1968. But it felt right. I couldn't see the ground on the other side of the wall. Then I saw the building to my left and it appeared to have a rear balcony that offered a view of what I knew was the old runway on the other side of the wall. With Hoa chasing behind me, I went up to the bars that protected the entrance to this residence. I put my hands in the prayer position as called out, "May I please take a picture from your balcony?" Hoa caught up with me and started to tell me that I shouldn't be doing . . . "Hoa, please, please, please translate this." A woman and her teenager daughter were walking toward the gate. Hoa came through for me. The quickly opened the gate and escorted us up the stairs and to the door to the balcony. My heart erupted in joy and the tears nearly kept me from being able to shoot the place where I had somehow, strangely, left a part of me.
      3Like · ·

    1. Don Ray
      April 27

      It was hard to focus the camera. The tears and emotions blurred my vision, but not my memories. I could see the end of the runway. I knew that the runway was the only thing left of the Soc Trang Army Airfield. While Hoa, the woman of the house and her daughter looked on (the girl was shooting with her camera phone), I saw the places on that airstrip where I had left a part of my youth. I could see the places where the mortars had pounded the ground. I could see where the dog kennels were and where our hooch had been. I saw the crashes of the UH-1 helicopter gunships and the moving shadows on the ground that the parachute flares would make when the wind would blow them past Fritz and me after we'd been hit. I could taste the C-Rations and see the faces of my Vietnamese friends --- friends who adopted me as their brother. I could hear them smiling when they'd see me. "Nguyen Van Don! Hello Nguyen Van Don!" They called me Nguyen Van Don because I was their brother.
      I relived a lot in the three or four minutes I stood there. I could finally see the place where a young man first discovered that he could survive by his wits, by his intelligence and by his creative passion --- despite what everyone in his life had told him. For a moment, I mourned the loss of his youth, but realized that it's still there and it's moving me forward today. The 4-hour ride back to Saigon was peaceful.
      — with Pierre Beauregard at Soc Trang Army Airfield, Soc Trang, Vietnam.

      Photo: It was hard to focus the camera. The tears and emotions blurred my vision, but not my memories. I could see the end of the runway. I knew that the runway was the only thing left of the Soc Trang Army Airfield. While Hoa, the woman of the house and her daughter looked on (the girl was shooting with her camera phone), I saw the places on that airstrip where I had left a part of my youth. I could see the places where the mortars had pounded the ground. I could see where the dog kennels were and where our hooch had been. I saw the crashes of the UH-1 helicopter gunships and the moving shadows on the ground that the parachute flares would make when the wind would blow them past Fritz and me after we'd been hit. I could taste the C-Rations and see the faces of my Vietnamese friends --- friends who adopted me as their brother. I could hear them smiling when they'd see me. "Nguyen Van Don! Hello Nguyen Van Don!" They called me Nguyen Van Don because I was their brother. I relived a lot in the three or four minutes I stood there. I could finally see the place where a young man first discovered that he could survive by his wits, by his intelligence and by his creative passion --- despite what everyone in his life had told him. For a moment, I mourned the loss of his youth, but realized that it's still there and it's moving me forward today. The 4-hour ride back to Saigon was peaceful.
      1Like · · · Tag Friends
      • Laura Rae Hulka Beautifully expressed, Don, very evocative!
      • Elaine Bro Elliott How blessed, could one man be????? To have the opportunity to re-live the loss you felt and to finally, move forward!!! This creative passion- a life long possession that has survived a horrendous war, none of will forget!! You have a unique ability to make friends, the best a man could ask for in his lifetime!!!!!!!!! I can't wait to see it all come together! Edge of my seat, Don Ray!!
      • Marshall Thompson OMG...... speechless.
      • Diane McWilliams Powerful. I am glad you found that peaceful ride back, and were able to revisit. My brother was in VietNam that year, so I am following your journey encased in my own memories as his sister. Travel well...
      • JoAnne Clark Great, So cleansing to the heart and yr mind. Keep up the good work.
      • Dave Williamson I repeat what I posted on the last one!I surely hope it helps! I'm so glad you were stubborn that time! What a shame had you missed it!
      • Perdita Brown What a powerful story!
      • Dawn RT DeBois I'm with Marshall. I'm speechless.

      • Don Ray
        April 30
        I was able to access my office computer and I found this image of the north end of the runway of the Soc Trang Army Airfield. This was taken before I arrived there because the dog kennels are not yet there. I was there in 1968 and 1969. If you read my earlier post about finding the airstrip on this trip to Vietnam, this photo will give you some perspective. Where you see the letter "A" is the location of the house I talked my way into so I could shoot from the balcony. The road you see on the left was moved to the left. "B" is, obviously, the paved portion of the runway. "C" is the building that became our Kennel Support Building. The dogs would be in kennels just this side of that building. "D" is over my hooch. In the corner of the building closest to you is where I was sitting when someone shot a photo of me with my sexy chest and the mustache that I was trying to grow. Tell me if you can get the orientation.
        By the way, we flew today from Pakse, Laos, to Da Nang, Vietnam. We got a hotel room in a historic city I think is Noi Ha. We'll go to Chu Lai tomorrow in search of where our source (the guy who gave us the mystery we're trying to solve) was stationed. I believe the airfield is still there, but unused. If you search Google Earth for "Chu Lai International Airport" you may see the what's left of the old airfield closer to the ocean.

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