hile guiding the press representatives to the two hamlets for observation, Captain Cobb proved to be well-versed in a few Thuong languages as well, when he cheerfully greeted and talked to elder tribesmen and their descendants.  Filthy half-naked children, instead of shying away in fear, rushed to circle their arms around his legs, played and ran about him happily, as if they had known him intimately.  An American reporter raised a question about the feeling of insecurity the Thuong people might have upon seeing the Americans depart.  The captain admitted that this was indeed an issue.

“However,” Captain Cobb added, “up to the present, sympathy of the people has been with our side.  They’ve had bitter experiences with the communists.  Moreover, they would not be foolish enough to go back to the deep jungles and end up suffering from hunger and being shot at by both sides.  That was also considered by MACV as solid a reason as any to hand over to the Government of South Vietnam all inland and border camps.”

Additional information was supplied by a black sergeant named Wynne, a veteran Green Beret from Texas, who had been at this camp since he first set foot in Vietnam.  To Wynne’s understanding, the common view held by many people was that the camp was valuable as a solid and fortified military base whose function was to prevent infiltration of the enemy.  But, in his opinion, the truth went beyond that, as the ultimate mission of the camp was quite political.  It had to do with the campaign to win hearts and minds, and thereby to entice people to the Saigon government’s side.

To end his explanation, with a smile the Sergeant leaned down to lift up and embrace a grimy-faced little girl.  “The villagers,” he said, “do not want to see us leave, but unfortunately that was the decision taken by our higher authorities, and it is also the wish of the Saigon government.”

A few seconds passed, then Wynne added in a sorrowful voice: “How sad to be a Montagnard.”

I mentioned General Thuyet’s name in connection with the future of the highlands.  Wynne did not hide a bitterness in his tone of voice when he responded.  “Had he not left the country, today would have been the happiest of days regarding his dream of creating a kingdom.”

I also talked with Raphael, an American sergeant who was the senior Special Forces medic whom the villagers addressed as Doctor.  Though without Wynne’s bitterness, this man also showed his sad feelings.  “My long stay here has made me very attached to this place.  Departing today, I feel as if I am leaving my second home.”

Interestingly, also during this ceremony, I ran into one of the amateur student journalists whom I had met a few years ago when we both followed and reported on the development of the FULRO revolt in the highlands.  He had graduated from medical school and no longer engaged in journalism.  At present he was the chief physician of a Vietnamese Special Forces C-Team.  He joked that his choice to serve here was perhaps due to his karmic relation with the Thuong.  But I knew that to an idealistic person like him, the choice was a commitment to what, as a student, he had believed in and enthusiastically advocated.

He told me of his present assignment.  “My current responsibility is to take charge of healthcare for all CIDG camps.  However, generally speaking, supplies and logistic support still depend heavily on the Americans.”

It was really incredible to me that all the issues which had yesterday been so very much the cause of severe conflict among different sides suddenly had disappeared and were no longer of any significance.  I asked the doctor what he thought were the factors that helped bring about the apparently stable situation in the highlands at present.  In a calm manner - this was a change I noticed in him since we last met - he offered a rather sharp observation.

"To arrive at the compromise that we see today, they had help from experiences gathered over many years now past – by ‘they’ I mean the Americans.  Truly, their experience taught them that to take a hand in the Thuong's rebellious schemes does nothing but further tarnish their name, and in no way helps improve their present lamentable standing.  But the more important factor is that both Kinh and Thuong peoples, after so much bloodshed, have come to clearly realize that given the correlation of their fates by which the action of either side affects the life of the other - môi hở răng lạnh, ‘when your lips part your teeth get cold’ as we Vietnamese say - they have no better choice than to come close together and join hands in building a new collective nation of Vietnam.”

Though I myself had seen signs of some positive changes, I was not as overoptimistic as he was. And perhaps Major Y Ksor was correct when maintaining that to transform into reality the vision of the highlands as a Promised Land was a task that would take “longer than raising a cup of rice wine to your lips” - as a Thuong idiomatic expression goes - a long and arduous task entailing much more blood, sweat, and tears.

Bunard Camp, 1969
Delta 49

The author, Ngo The Vinh, is a former ARVN Airborne Ranger and Green Beret M.D. during the Vietnam War.  He became intrigued with the life and culture of ethnic groups in the Central Highlands when, in the 1960s, he witnessed and reported on the turmoil and general uprising of the Montagnards. The Green Belt  was written in these turbulent surroundings.

                        Ngo The Vinh 1969