Viet Nam War

Viet Nam War

Preface / Introduction

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The Vietnam War - I was only 13 years old. What I remember the most was a favorite cousin was drafted, I don't recall how many years he served, what I do know is when he did return home he wasn't the same. The Vietnam War changed so many people's lives... Do you have any memories of the Vietnam War or know of someone who's life was changed?

Table of Contents

1. The man who survived. Norodom Sihanouk. Sometime prince of Cambodia, king, prime minister, revolutionary, demigod. Dead at 89, October 15, 2012. 2. 'One, two, three, what are we fighting for?' Thoughts on the turbulent life and times of George McGovern, dead at 90, October 21, 2012.

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The man who survived. Norodom Sihanouk. Sometime prince of Cambodia, king, prime minister, revolutionary, demigod. Dead at 89, October 15, 2012.

by Dr. Jeffrey Lant.

Author's program note. When the Abbe Sieyes, one of the first three consuls of the new French government of 1799 was asked what he did during the Terror, he replied "I survived." Everyone who had done the same would have understood at once just how signal an achievement that was. It seems a particularly apt comment to apply to King Norodom Sihanouk... who lived to a venerable age which so many times looked unlikely, even impossible. It may well have been his most significant achievement. You may judge for yourself.

Geography is destiny.

To begin this article, go to any search engine and print out a map of Cambodia and its contiguous neighbors, Thailand, Laos, Vietnam. Then cast your eye North, to China, which monitored and influenced his every move his entire life.

I suspect His Majesty knew every boundary, highway, minor road, river, city and town. He was no scholar, but on this subject I imagine he excelled. Much of what he could do, much of what he could not do was played out on the maps of Southeast Asia; his dreams, his fears, his rationales for so many shifts, turns, lies, deceptions, convolutions, "irrational" decisions made, reversed, made again, reversed again and again.

You will never understand this man and his decisions, which so often infuriated and exasperated so many uncomprehending statesmen and diplomats, without understanding the geography of the place.

I am writing this article with such a map at my fingertips. You should do the same. To achieve his goals of staying alive, keeping Cambodia independent and autonomous, and its population safe, he had to master every nuance of these maps and his options... options which changed as the goals of his contiguous neighbors (and their near and far-away allies) shifted... and above all whenever the shadow of great China crossed his path... as it seemed constantly to do.

Born in the purple October 31, 1922.

Cambodia at the time of King Sihanouk's birth was part of French Indochina, a protectorate since

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1863. The royal dynasty reigned; the French ruled everything including the dynasty. To make this work as efficient and thorough as possible, they wanted young, naive, powerless princes at the helm.

Shy 18-year-old Prince Sihanouk seemed tailor-made and so in 1941 French colonial authorities raised him to be king. No one, certainly no Frenchman, took this adolescent monarch seriously; he had wept after all when elevated. They wanted "a little lamb", Sihanouk said later. They got a tiger. The man had been misjudged and misunderstood from the beginning; that never changed. Everything else did, including the French Protectorate over Indochine.

The beginning of the end of the French Colonial Empire.

The breathtaking 1940 German invasion of France and the French capitulation (June, 1940) gave King Sihanouk the chance he needed to advance Cambodian independence. He worked with the new conquerors, the Japanese, as he had worked with the previous conquerors, the French. On March 9, 1945, the Japanese still in charge, King Sihanouk proclaimed an independent Kingdom of Kampuchea. The Japanese soon left; the French were prostrate. The King had had a very good war, despite General Charles de Gaulle's insistence that the ancien regime be resurrected. He might so

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desire, but he could not dictate; a lesson he found hard to learn, then or ever.

In due course, October, 1953, Sihanouk declared independence. The "little lamb" had outmaneuvered the Cross of Lorraine himself. The King was now as grand as the kingdom proclaimed itself to be... and the Golden Age of his reign and his nation were at hand, a graceful time revered by every subject and remembered with joy, gratitude and bittersweet nostalgia. If only things had so remained... if only.

But now one word hung over Cambodia, its king, its gentle people and their life of beauty, serenity, grace and tranquility. That word was Vietnam and in this single word there was an unimaginable horror and woes beyond measure. No one knew this better than the liberator King of Cambodia, at the very center of so much that went so wrong for so many, including himself.

Saving his house from the inferno next door.

Before continuing you must remember this man's objectives -- to save himself, to preserve his dynasty, to ensure the nation's freedom and self-rule, and to keep his adoring people safe from the collateral damage inflicted on them by bigger, richer, careless nations. It was not merely a tall order; it was the devil's own conundrum. And he could not avoid action or, in the way of so many academics, avoid making crucial decisions altogether; no, he had to decide, he had to act, he had to row his tiny boat and its 5 million vulnerable inhabitants through the growing maelstrom that emanated from and engulfed his proximate neighbor Vietnam.

For 17 years, he kept his people out of the ever-growing civil conflict destroying his much larger neighbor. This is the key fact by which he should be judged, not the fact that he employed every single stratagem, tactic, ruse, insinuation, prevarication or deception he had to. He was a king, charged by heaven with the care of his people, whom he called and considered his "children". God would understand.

As a result, Sihanouk became the very personification of the oldest Western stereotype, the Wily Oriental Gentleman (WOG). This and other far cruder characterizations and epithets permeated the CIA's "top secret" (1964) report "Prince Sihanouk and the New Order in Southeast Asia" by John W. Taylor, the word "patriot" seems hardly to have occurred to his detractors.

And so as the fire consumed Vietnam one killing field at a time, King Sihanouk perfected his mastery of the legerdemain that kept his most vulnerable realm as secure as a world of insecurity would allow.

Item: He became the darling of the world's left-leaning non-aligned nations while discouraging the growth of Cambodia's left-wing parties.

Item: After the Vietnam war broke out again in 1961, he secretly allied with North Vietnam and began allowing Viet Cong troops to use Cambodia as a military base. At the same time he tacitly approved limited US bombing runs on Cambodian soil.

Item: But you get the picture. His Majesty would do what His Majesty needed to do... and he did it until it no longer pleased all the people all the time, which had always been His Majesty's special, impossible assignment. In March, 1970 the United States tacitly approved a CIA coup that removed Sihanouk, turned the nation over to Lon Nol, a former military adviser who gave the United States what it wanted: a friendly regime that turned neutralist Cambodia into an American base, corrupt, propped up by lavish US aid. The golden days of Sihanouk's Cambodia were done and truly over.

War, genocide, an impatient, impotent ex-monarch watches. Now the great Cambodian tragedy began; Lon Nol tethered to US interests, Pol Pot and his Khmer Rouge Communists infiltrating, destabilizing from the left. Sihanouk, in exile in Beijing, condemned Lon Nol and backed the Khmer

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Rouge which in 1975 imprisoned him in his palace thereby effectively silencing the Cambodian people's best friend and "father". The genocide of Pol Pot's regime, responsible for over 1.7 million brutal murders, starvations, and exterminations as it tried to convert the entire nation into an agrarian collective, showed just how good the "good old days" had been.

And so he watched from afar as the nation he had built was destroyed; the people he loved were killed in their tens and hundreds of thousands and the United States condemned him for his unaccountable advocacy of Pol Pot and the Khmer Rouge. A realist to his royal fingertips, the ex-monarch knew he must explain himself on this matter, or languish on the sidelines forever, anathema to the Great Republic and its "do as I say, not as I do" approach to international relations.

"War and Hope," my dinner with King Sihanouk, my ticklish assignment.

The result was Sihanouk's book "War and Hope: The Case for Cambodia" (Pantheon Books, 1980), a ringing denunciation of the Khmer Rouge and its spectrum of brutalities, a denunciation he took to Harvard and its Center for International Affairs; where in those days I was a marketing, public relations and development consultant to Professor Samuel Huntington. As such I was invited to his lavish black-tie dinner in honor of the man called "Former Chief of State" and his Samuel L. and Elizabeth Jodidi Lecture. Before that dinner, Professor Huntington handed me the evening's hot potato: on the pressing need to ensure the Prince's traveling concubine did not attend the festivities in honor of her aging but agile Lothario.

"Girls, girls, girls"... but not at Harvard!

Sihanouk, like all the kings of Cambodia, was a sybarite, a libertine, a frequent, frequently indiscriminate, lover and prodigious producer of princely children (at least 14), a real life character like Mrs. Anna Leonowens found in Bangkok in 1862. The CIA made much of his concupiscence; he enjoyed his droit de seigneur. In any event, it helped pass his gilded exile. But whatever was acceptable elsewhere, such behavior did not suit Fair Harvard, at least the residual Puritans at the Center for International Affairs (now called the Weatherhead Center for International Affairs). They wanted no part of his current traveling companion. And because I was a hired consultant I was told to get the lady gone.

I can see her to this day and even smell her intoxicating Rue de la Paix scent. She was lovely in the Cambodian manner, young, lavishly dressed, a doll. She disdained me... and no wonder.

Had it been me alone, I would have invited her, but I was merely following orders. And so while she filed her nails and cast her eyes down, I stumbled through the message and her contempt. She knew my discomfort and dragged it out. I felt like a worm, for all that they paid me well. She was not in attendance that evening.

But King Sihanouk was, to deliver his "mea culpa, mea maxima culpa" on the Khmer Rouge, toppled in 1979 but not forgotten or forgiven in Washington, D.C.. When I was presented, I murmured the expected compliments which he, the consummate man of the world, reciprocated without a moment's thought. It was what he'd been doing for a lifetime, saying the expected, while doing what needed to be done.

But what was clear was that he was in Cambridge, at Harvard, because he wanted to return to Kampuchea and if exchanging small talk with someone like me, if giving up his play fellow for a time were required, he would do it all, and more. For Cambodia was his real love, his one and only love, and he missed her to distraction. And so after Pol Pot fell; after the Vietnamese were expelled he got his fervent wish, to be reunited with the beloved.

Now this man, this king, this tiger once thought to be a little lamb, this lover of women and great patriot, this evasive man, ambiguous man, deceptive man for whom mere truth was a luxury he

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could hardly ever afford is dead. We shall never see his like again in our time. Go then to any search engine. Find "Nokor Reach", the national anthem of the Kingdom of Cambodia... "Heaven save the king/ Give him happiness and glory/... rule the Khmer Land and/ make it high and filled with honor", as in his way he did.

Viet Nam War


'One, two, three, what are we fighting for?' Thoughts on the turbulent life and times of George McGovern, dead at 90, October 21, 2012.

by Dr. Jeffrey Lant.

Author's program note. On Election Day November, 1968 my father and I walked to the polling place in West Los Angeles where I proudly voted for the first time (as he told the poll worker), for electors pledged to Richard M. Nixon for president of the United States.

Four years later, now a graduate student at Harvard and a resident of Massachusetts, I walked alone to the Cambridge polling place and with a pencil cast my vote for electors pledged to George McGovern.

All that was missing was the tune the victorious new Americans played at Yorktown in 1781 when the British forces under Lord Cornwallis surrendered; that tune was "The World Turned Upside Down"... and so it was. What had caused this seismic change in me and in the Great Republic? Vietnam. A word, a place, an event, a symbol, a tragedy, a charnel house, a quagmire, a conundrum. A squalid moment in the often squalid affairs of mankind... a place where many erred and far too many died .. but where one decent, thoughtful man gained honor and the hard-won title of "patriot", a designation he would gratefully have laid down if that would have spared a single young life.

That man was George McGovern. This is his story. And this is why it matters and why, upon the

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occasion of his death, it must be recalled, if only to remind what one individual of vision, commitment, and determination can do to right the greatest wrongs and make the crucial difference.

Born George Stanley McGovern, July 19, 1922, Avon, South Dakota.

To understand a man you need to know where he comes from, who his people were and what they believed in and stood for. George McGovern was born in the 600-person farming community of Avon, a hamlet which shared a name but nothing more with Shakespeare's verdant village. Those who love South Dakota, and he remained one of them for life, never underestimated or glamorized its stark, unyielding, punishing realities. Life was hard in the Dakotas, but it offered the one thing that made life worth living: freedom. Freedom to work hard, to risk all, to find God and to look every man squarely in the face, the equal of all, subservient to none. In short, it was, despite its unending challenges, the best possible place on Earth, for here was everything that mattered.

His parents were stolid Republicans, of Northern Irish, Scottish, and English descent. And they were Methodists, his father the pastor of the local Wesleyan Methodist Church. As such they were the heirs of John Wesley's "Great Awakening", commencing in the 1730s; people who knew what God intended and accepted the necessity, yes the privilege, of being responsible for improving, not just accepting, present reality. This was a key factor in McGovern's life and work, for he was no respecter of present realities per se but only the necessity to improve them. And so he set to work on his first reform project, targeting himself. He realized he could not ask others to improve if he would not improve himself.

Thus this painfully shy boy, average in everything, forced himself to talk, to learn, to advance, to be better. Tongue-tied, he turned himself by assiduous, painstaking effort into an admired debate champion.

And when in seventh grade, a gym teacher called him a "physical coward", in the thoughtless way of that ilk, McGovern vowed to show him. And in due course in the "good war", World War II, he did; flying the B-24 Liberator, one of the most difficult airplanes to fly because in the early part of the

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war, they didn't have hydraulic controls. McGovern likened it to "driving a Mack truck without any power steering or power breaks."

He flew 35 combat missions as a B-24 pilot, receiving the Distinguished Flying Cross and an Air Medal with three oak leaf clusters. He was no coward, physical or otherwise. Nor did he brag about his achievements; few, even friends, knew anything about his valor and pluck. He was a professional. He had been called to do a job. He had done it well. He was ready for his next mission... and the one after that.

A learned man, a growing sympathy for the underdog.

Like all the great reformers, McGovern recognized the importance of education, not just for children and young people, but for everyone. And so he studied for the ministry at Northwestern University; then took a Master's degree (1949) in history; then in 1953 his doctorate. His 450-page dissertation was titled "The Colorado Coal Strike, 1913- 1914". It was a sympathetic account of the miners' revolt against Rockefeller interests in the Colorado Coalfield War. His thesis adviser, eminent historian Arthur Link, later said he had not seen a better student than McGovern in 26 years of teaching. He was far indeed from the awkward, shy, tongue-tied boy of yore.

From teaching history to making it.

Having graduated, he did what most newly minted PhDs did: he taught college history and politics for several years. But research, contemplation, writing and teaching weren't enough. He itched to do more than write and lecture about history's reformers; bit by bit, as he knew himself better, he admitted he wanted to become one. And the fertile field of South Dakota politics lay open before him. What he did next was bold, audacious, a course of genius or just madness. He decided to bring the Democratic Party to one of the most Republican states of the Great Republic; a state where every office-holder was Republican and 108 legislative seats out of 110. With his family background and exemplary war record, he might easily have joined the majority party.

However, he'd been touched by FDR, Henry Wallace, Harry Truman, and Adlai Stevenson, the man he named his only son after, in 1952. They enlightened him; they clarified; they enthused; they motivated. In the 1954 elections he showed what he could do; 25 seats went Democratic and McGovern was launched. The party he forged then sent him to the U.S. Congress in 1956; to the U.S. Senate in 1962 (after losing the 1960 race to Senator Karl Mundt whom he loathed as a Red-baiting McCarthyite).

In office, he focused on improvements for rural America, farm support, and the popular Food for Peace program. Under usual circumstances a senator in his position could have reasonably aspired to the chairmanship of the Senate Agriculture Committee, even the Cabinet as Secretary of Agriculture. These were worthy, if not stellar, objectives. However, in September, 1963 he rose on the Senate floor; his subject was a nation not one in a thousand citizens of South Dakota could even find on a map; a small, far-away nation; a nation now engulfed in war and disintegration. Senator McGovern rose and admonished America on its course of involvement and escalation. America soon enough would have reason to rue the lack of care and attention it gave his pressing message.

Vietnam. The apotheosis of George McGovern.

Now the dance macabre began. North Vietnam and its allies advanced; South Vietnam fell back; the United States escalated its support; McGovern escalated his disapprovals, condemnations, and denunciations. And all the while vulnerable flesh paid its bleeding price in death, disfigurements, dismemberments, each incident blighting a young life, sundering a great nation and causing worldwide disbelief and censure. McGovern, however reluctantly, took up the cause as his crusade. The Great Republic had fashioned this man for its great need. And the man was ready.

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This was what the man came to believe and what he told his Senate colleagues, the Great Republic and the world in September, 1970:

"Every Senator in this chamber is partly responsible for sending 50,000 young Americans to an early grave. This chamber reeks of blood. Every Senator here is partly responsible for that human wreckage at Walter Reed and Bethesda Naval and all across our land -- young men without legs, or arms, or genitals, or faces or hopes... If we do not end this damnable war those young men will some day curse us for our pitiful willingness to let the Executive carry the burden that the Constitution places on us."

But the Senate defeated his position 55-39. At this the greatest moment of his life, he knew he would have to run for President because only the President could end the war, end the unending blood and futility, and redeem the nation.

He runs, he loses, 1972. Plane talk with RMN.

One day in 1991, McGovern found himself on a plane sitting next to the man who crushed him in 1972 in a electoral rout of near historic proportions. "We had a nice talk," said Nixon. "He was always a very decent guy who had the guts to stand up for what he believed in." In other words, the man on the moral high ground ran the worst possible campaign with Nemesis its manager.

Democratic House Speaker Thomas P. O'Neill, Jr. quipped that McGovern had been nominated by the cast of "Hair". He was tagged with the label "amnesty, abortion and acid." He goofed every aspect of the campaign, not least the fiasco of his vice presidential choice Missouri Senator Thomas Eagleton. Eagleton was hardly vetted at all; was found to have a history of mental instability and shock treatment.

McGovern said he'd stand by his man "1,000 percent", then promptly dropped him. The next 5 prominent Democrats he asked to run with him turned him down flat -- and publicly. He never laid a glove on Nixon. Famously McGovern carried only Massachusetts and the District of Columbia. Decency alone wasn't nearly enough. Being right wasn't enough. You needed a unique set of attributes, skills and a willingness to do everything, go anywhere, say anything to get elected. McGovern didn't have them... as I came to see for myself when I met him at Harvard in 1977.

Food for peace, food for thought.

In those days, McGovern was focusing on what he should be more widely known for: feeding the world. He came to Cambridge to collaborate with Dr. Jean Mayer, internationally known for his work eradicating hunger, promoting proper nutrition, fighting obesity, each and every one a lifetime's work. Because I was one of Dr. Mayer's assistants, I had the run of the house and so met George McGovern (re-elected Senator in 1974) at Mayer's Dudley House residence. And in my role as fly on the wall, I noted everything. I already knew just how much historians value the smallest detail, the detail that, in a few words, provides the critical aperture to understanding.

There was none of that divinity that doth hedge a king about McGovern. His charisma was zero. I own to being disappointed. This was my man; I wanted to be impressed, awed, bowled over by wit and wisdom. But that wasn't how he was, especially on that day.

It was easy to talk to him, and I made good use of my opportunity. I told him of my family in and about Blunt, South Dakota, the Lauings. He said, as one does, that the name was familiar. I didn't tell him they were rock-ribbed Republicans. He probably deduced as much for himself.

Then the phone rang as it would ring for him many times that day. It was his son, his only son Steve, alcoholic, problem, lifelong worry. I could tell from Mcgovern's side of the conversation that there was a crisis brewing; the calls were frequent, short; arrangements were being made. McGovern

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looked worn, tired, fretful. There was nothing I could do; just stay at hand in case he needed something. It was the kind of support South Dakota folks provided, useful, silent, not worth mentioning, coffee's on the stove; the essence of Prairie friendship and true grit.

McGovern knew, none better, the tragedy of adult children in crisis, children he loved but couldn't help, couldn't reach; first Steve who finally found peace July 27, 2012; then his daughter Terry December 13, 1994. He captured her harrowing struggle in his 1996 book "Terry: My Daughter's Life-and-Death Struggle with Alcoholism." He would later say that Terry's death was by far the most painful event of his life. It was no wonder he seemed, pre-occupied, distant, distracted the day I met him. It was the kind of day one faces often with alcoholics and drug abusers; a day where there is pain and where any hope at all is the greatest self-deception. He no longer hoped... and for such a man that was torment.

Envoi.

In 1976, George McGovern, uncomfortable with Jimmy Carter, moved right as ex-Democratic presidential candidates not infrequently do (John W. Davis, Al Smith) and voted Republican, this time for Gerald Ford, the decent man who performed the healing role McGovern might have liked for himself. He could appreciate the many virtues of such a man, for he was such a man. No wonder his last creative work was his 2008 book on Abraham Lincoln and his recorded narration for Aaron Copeland's "Lincoln Portrait", done with the South Dakota Symphony Orchestra. Find it now in any search engine. McGovern found solace in the work, peace, tranquillity, and a renewed belief in great America and its Great Republic, of the people, by the people, for the people.

... and so will you.

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Resource

About the Author Harvard-educated Dr. Jeffrey Lant is CEO of Worldprofit, Inc., providing a wide range of online services for small and-home based businesses. Services include home business training, affiliate marketing training, earn-at-home programs, traffic tools, advertising, webcasting, hosting, design, WordPress Blogs and more. Find out why Worldprofit is considered the # 1 online Home Business Training program by getting a free Associate Membership today.

Republished with author's permission by Elizabeth English http://LizsWorldprofit.com.

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