[sangkancil] The fall of Saigon cited by North Vietnamese communist vict

["M.G.G. Pillai" <pillai@mgg.pc.my>]

---------- Forwarded message ----------
Date: Mon, 3 May 1999 07:00:19 -0700
From: hy tran <hytran@YAHOO.COM>
Reply-To: Southeast Asia Discussion List <SEASIA-L@LIST.MSU.EDU>
To: SEASIA-L@LIST.MSU.EDU
Subject: The fall of Saigon cited by North Vietnamese communist victors

Revising the history of the fall of Saigon

HO CHI MINH CITY (Mark Mcdonald, Mercury News Vietnam Bureau, 29/4/99) 
-- Only this much is known without dispute: On the humid morning of
April 30, 1975, about 10 a.m., a tank crashed through a gate at the
presidential palace in Saigon. Within minutes, South Vietnam would
officially surrender and the Vietnam War would be over. 

That's when things start to get very fuzzy. 

Which North Vietnamese Army officer actually took the surrender? Which
tank was the first to storm the presidential palace? Was there a battle
on the palace grounds? Did the invading tank column get lost in Saigon,
and did they actually have to stop and ask a woman on the street for
directions? 

These questions are the stuff of history, and nearly a quarter-century
later, many of the answers remain in serious dispute. One version of the
surrender -- the account widely accepted by Western historians -- is
resolutely denied by the Vietnamese government. 

In his first interview with an American journalist, a Vietnamese general
who apparently scribbled down the terms of South Vietnam's surrender,
has given his account of April 30, 1975 -- a day celebrated throughout
Vietnam as Liberation Day. 

Pham Xuan The, now a 52-year-old major general, was a 28-year-old deputy
infantry commander on that hot and contentious April morning.  The
(pronounced Tay) and his troops from the Second Division were trailing
behind the lead tank column as it clattered across Saigon Bridge, intent
on ``accomplishing the final task of attacking the last den of the
enemy.''

The tanks from the 203rd Tank Regiment met little resistance as they
made their way toward the city, and the North Vietnamese troops noticed
the roadsides were littered with the uniforms of fleeing South
Vietnamese soldiers. 

``We knew those who we found wearing only underpants and undershirts
were soldiers,'' The said, smiling. ``They hadn't had enough time to put
on civilian clothes.''

Once inside Saigon -- renamed Ho Chi Minh City -- the tanks rolled along
unimpeded. But the members of the tank crews were young men from the
north and had never been to Saigon before, so they weren't sure where
the presidential palace was located. They stopped to ask a street vendor
for directions. 

``That's true,'' said Le Thanh Chon, a former pilot in the North
Vietnamese air force who tagged along with the tanks that day. ``I was
driving a U.S. Army Jeep (that had been abandoned); I was lost, too. So
I asked a girl on the street where to go.''

The tank platoon, in single file, was led by Tank No. 843, commanded by
First Lieutenant Bui Quang Than. His Soviet-built T-54 crashed into the
left-hand gate of the palace, then got hung up in the debris. Most
historical accounts say the tank shelled the gate, and perhaps the
palace, but The said that's not true. Tank 843 tried to fire, he said,
but the first shell got stuck in the barrel. 

``And that's the only shot we fired,'' he said. 

Than, the tank commander, jumped out of his immobilized tank and ran
onto the palace grounds. The second tank in the column, No. 390,
detoured around 843, broke through the center gate of the palace, and
drove onto the front lawn. The name of the driver of that tank has been
a matter of controversy, although the official Nhan Dan newspaper says
he was Nguyen Van Hung. 

``This all happened in a very short time,'' The said, ``and which tank
was the first or second makes no great difference.''

Today, what he calls ``the real tank'' is displayed at a museum in
Hanoi. Another tank, one with 843 painted on its side, is on display at
the palace in Ho Chi Minh City. 

Than went directly to the roof of the palace, where he ran up the red
North Vietnamese flag. Meanwhile, The and his infantrymen were pouring
onto the palace grounds -- without a single South Vietnamese soldier in
sight. 

So there was no fighting at all? 

``No.''

You thought everyone had fled? 

``Yes. We didn't know the forces and staff of the regime were still
inside.''

In the palace lobby, The ran into a South Vietnamese brigadier general,
Nguyen Huu Hanh, who ushered him into a large, ornate room. 

``When I entered the room, everybody stood up, about 30 or 40 people,''
said The, who was accompanied by tank commander Than. ``We saw they were
scared. . . . Hanh introduced me to a big, tall guy who was president
Duong Van Minh.''

This was ``Big Minh,'' the legendary general who had been installed as
president only days earlier after Nguyen Van Thieu had fled to Taiwan
and his doddering successor, Tran Van Huong, had quickly resigned. 

The edgy South Vietnamese contingent was dressed in business suits, and
they repeatedly flinched as the victorious troops outside began shooting
off their guns in celebration. Minh told The and Than, both of whom were
brandishing pistols, ``We have been waiting for you, to hand over the
power.''

The said this was his response: ``You are our prisoners. You must
surrender unconditionally. There is no handover.''

This is almost precisely the account written in 1995 by Bui Tin, a
Communist Party member and an army journalist with the rank of colonel. 
Except for one glaring discrepancy: Bui Tin said he was the one who
first encountered Big Minh and his officers that morning, that he was
the one who had taken the surrender. 

The Bui Tin version is endorsed by historian Stanley Karnow in his
best-selling book, ``Vietnam: A History.'' Bui Tin later became
disillusioned with the Communist regime and in 1990, at the age of 63,
he left Vietnam. He was fired from his job and expelled from the
Communist Party. He wrote his memoirs, ``From Cadre to Exile,'' from his
new home in Paris. 

``It's his right (to give his version),'' The said during a lengthy
interview at a Foreign Ministry office in Hanoi. ``(My version) is our
approved history. . . . When and how he met Duong Van Minh that day, I
don't know.''

What seems less in dispute is an almost comical final scene to the
surrender drama. 

The and Than took Big Minh outside to a waiting jeep -- yet another
``liberated'' U.S. Army Jeep -- and they drove the caretaker president
to the Saigon radio station. The station, largely deserted, was still
functioning, and it was there that The wrote out the terms of surrender. 

But his handwriting was so bad, The said, that Minh could not read what
he had written. So The slowly read the words as Minh re-copied them. 
Minh then recorded the message onto a cassette tape, which was broadcast
throughout the day. 

In the midst of all this penmanship, a political commissar from a tank
brigade entered the radio station and introduced himself as Lt. Col. 
Bui Van Tung. It was quickly decided that Tung, as the highest-ranking
officer present, would formally accept Big Minh's surrender. This
remains the official Vietnamese government version. 

Even now, 24 years later, The can recite Tung's words from memory: ``On
behalf of the southern revolutionary forces, I accept the surrender
declaration of Duong Van Minh.''


hytran@my-dejanews.com
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