Today, Saigon appears to be thriving. Looking up at the modern, glowing skyscrapers, it’s easy to forget that just forty years ago, Saigon was heavily bombed by the U.S forces, destroying the city. In order to understand the evolution of modern-day HCMC, I thought it was important to visit the War Remnants Museum, built in 1975 in order to retain relics and memories from the atrocities of the Vietnam War. The first time we tried to go was unsuccessful; we’d chosen the only hour of the working day to visit, and we were headed to Vung Tao that afternoon. Bloody typical! So when we returned to HCMC from Vung Tao, I made sure we paid a visit at a sensible time. We always took moto-taxi’s there and back: an exhilarating way to see the city (especially at roundabouts!)
Outside the museum are U.S tanks, and on the bottom floor are the anti-war propaganda posters from protesting countries. I’m afraid to say that though these were interesting in their own right, and the determination of these people to stand up for an unjust war was hugely courageous, what really drew me in was the effects of American warfare on innocent civilians. The room detailing how the U.S.A entered the war, after the French withdrew, helped to put the museum’s pictures and exhibits into context, but there were two other rooms that particularly touched me.
One part of the museum was dedicated to telling the stories of Vietnamese born with deformities because of the Agent Orange used during the war, some births as recent as 2008. This was one horrific aspect of the war that I hadn’t realized: those exposed to dioxin, one of the most dangerous chemicals known to man and dropped by the U.S forces into civilians’ water sources via metal pellets with an orange strip (hence the nickname ‘Agent Orange’), can pass on the exposure effects to many future generations. One quotation from a deformed Korean soldier: ‘The Vietnam War may officially be over, but for us, the war is still going’. It was heartbreaking to see whole families born with brain damage or physical disabilities, with many bed-ridden for life. An added struggle to an already struggling life. Many American soldiers were also exposed, and today are suffering the consequences: headaches, hot sweats, cancer…Just like the landmines in Cambodia, today’s Vietnamese children are suffering the consequences of yesterday’s careless actions…it just doesn’t seem fair.
Another room showed many photos taken before, during and just after the Vietnam War. On one wall, there was a list of names besides a few countries: North Vietnam, U.S.A, England, France, Finland, and many more. These are the war photographers who died while taking photos in the heart of the action. One of these photos actually showed a female photographer recently shot in the front line, an American G.I hovering over her body. Four renowned photographers, from the U.S, Japan, England and France, all died in a plane crash on the way to Laos. To many, the job of war photographer only seems suitable for nutters; why would anybody willingly put their lives at risk, just for the sake of a photo? At school, I studied Carol Ann Duffy’s ‘War Photographer’, inspired by that famous picture you all will have seen, of the girl naked through napalm bombing. There was one aspect that Duffy particularly tried to understand: why would you stand back and let these horrific things happen?
War Photographer
In his darkroom he is finally alone
with spools of suffering set out in ordered rows.
The only light is red and softly glows,
as though this were a church and he
a priest preparing to intone a Mass.
Belfast. Beirut. Phnom Penh. All flesh is grass.
He has a job to do. Solutions slop in trays
beneath his hands which did not tremble then
though seem to now. Rural England. Home again
to ordinary pain which simple weather can dispel,
to fields which don't explode beneath the feet
of running children in a nightmare heat.
Something is happening. A stranger's features
faintly start to twist before his eyes,
a half-formed ghost. He remembers the cries
of this man's wife, how he sought approval
without words to do what someone must
and how the blood stained into foreign dust.
A hundred agonies in black-and-white
from which his editor will pick out five or six
for Sunday's supplement. The reader's eyeballs prick
with tears between bath and pre-lunch beers.
From aeroplane he stares impassively at where
he earns a living and they do not care.
with spools of suffering set out in ordered rows.
The only light is red and softly glows,
as though this were a church and he
a priest preparing to intone a Mass.
Belfast. Beirut. Phnom Penh. All flesh is grass.
He has a job to do. Solutions slop in trays
beneath his hands which did not tremble then
though seem to now. Rural England. Home again
to ordinary pain which simple weather can dispel,
to fields which don't explode beneath the feet
of running children in a nightmare heat.
Something is happening. A stranger's features
faintly start to twist before his eyes,
a half-formed ghost. He remembers the cries
of this man's wife, how he sought approval
without words to do what someone must
and how the blood stained into foreign dust.
A hundred agonies in black-and-white
from which his editor will pick out five or six
for Sunday's supplement. The reader's eyeballs prick
with tears between bath and pre-lunch beers.
From aeroplane he stares impassively at where
he earns a living and they do not care.
Carol Ann Duffy
Their job may seem crazy, but these photos needed to be taken. The reality of war, pure and unblemished by a propaganda spin. OK, you could say that war photographers chose to take photos at particularly atrocious times, thus automatically have an anti-war angle. But these photographers live out there with the soldiers; they see how they live from day to day- unlike journalists back at home. These photos need to be taken, so that future generations know what the horror of war looks like, and those civilians and soldiers have not died in vain.
That’s all I’ve got to say; I don’t want this to sound like a propaganda piece. In short, the museum does a great job of showing every aspect of war: the start, middle, end and beyond. Let’s hope Vietnam- or any of SE Asia- will never see such horror again. In HCMC, I can see the evidence of the determination and strength that allowed the Vietnamese to win the war. This is their land, and they will keep defending- and evolving- right until the end.
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