what a sight ! 550,000 GI ' s in vietnam - a poem by the phong

we promise one another - poems from an asian war
published by the  IMEP.   Washington,   D,C, 1971.

                                                      what a sight! 
                     550, 000 GI' s in Vietnam 
                                                         by  the phong
                             TRANSLATED  BY  ĐÀM  XUÂN  CẬN


      Thế Phong is an airman working with the press office of the Vietnamese Air Force.
      He spent two years working for the American military in Vietnam and was a lecturer
      in politics at the Vũng tàu training center which produced cadres for the Government
      of the Republic of Vietnam's pacification program.  Working closely with the American
      military in South Việtnam, he has had an opportunity to observe the effect the presence
      of Gi's has had on Vietnamese society.  Many of his  poems contain lurid details of the 
      action of Americans in Việtnam.  Included here are excerpts from a long poem.
        DON LUCE and ...





             Well,  well
             Our friends 
                              The Americans have arrived in our country.
            They have manpower,
            They have money, 
            They have munitions
                              ( the recipes of the magic formulas, ) 
            And there are 500,000 of them.
            Deserted places 
                                     Become military bases .
            Petrified, 
            Stupefied, 
            We Vietnamese see American establishments mushrooming: 
            Cam Ranh Bay, Chu Lai, Tân sơn Nhứt, Biên Hòa ... 
            How many have died ? 
                                            We don' t know .
            The dead never aked to be counted 
                                       Or even to be remembered.
            We can only be sure of one thing : 
                                       We will never suffer over- population. 
            For the survivors
                                        Each grain of rice we eat
                                        Is imported from wast fields in California. 
            Germany and Korea are divided countries too, 
                                        But they' re doing all right  - -
             While we suffer in the most cruel and obscene way, 
                                                                          What an irony !

             I' ve been walking the roads of my beloved land;
                                One fternoon when I stopped, terribly hungry,
            What have I tell you ?  
            Where can I ask 
                                      For a clean breathing space ?
  
            In thousands of bars from muddy Pleiku, 
                                                              Kontum buried in the mud, 
                                                              To dusty Nha Trang, Đà Nẵng, 
            Our girls brazenly ply their  trade to sex- straved GI's  - - 
                                                  Coloreds, 
                                                  Whites,
                                                  Reds,
                                                  Blacks, 
                                                  Democracy protectors ! 
                                                  Freedom fighters ! 

              I' ve seen them all ! 
             Anyplace they set foot on 
                                                They are followed by our women and girls, 
                                                          The fun-makers par excellence.
             As for you, 
                                 You must produce passes 
                                         When ou come down to any of these places. 
              Don't yous see signboards
                                                      Reading  Locals,  Keep Out  ?

              Without respite 
                                         Day and night 
                                         Our country exposes itself to rockets and bombs,
              Hundreds of raids are being carried out daily .

              In an office there was a Vietnamese woman
                                         Whose officer husband was away;
              She had  a cute son, 
                                         He could mumble a few words.
              He wept and screamed,
                                         Scared of his mother's American visitors; 
             Unlike her, 
                               He was not a bit impressed by dollars; 
             Shaking his head 
                                Shouting louder, 
                                        Broken into tears, 
                                                      He called his father's name.

             His father had long been denied a leave, 
                                He was leading his troops
                                Against the nemy in the highlands, 
             The woman worked for the Americans 
                               To get money, 
             And that would be that - -
                                            She thought. 

             The American oficer who employed her 
                                           thought differently, 
              He said:  I will help you, 
                             Your husband is an army officer,
                             He is my best friend ...'
             Not long after that
                            He fell madly in love with her. 

             One rainy evening 
                           He proposed to drive her home. 
                                                 It rained,
                                                       It rained, 
             The car smoothly on the road
                         When suddenly he pressed the brake pedal. 
            The car didn't overturn
                         But she was trapped .

            Holding ther tight
                         In his two hairy arms 
                               He kissed her savagely, 
                        Then raped her in the back seat.
            He gave her all the MPC * he had, 
                                                         A lot of money


                   
            That night
                                 Her child went to bed early, 
                     Unaware the officer had taken the place of his father. 
            In the bed of his parents 
                     The next morning 
                                                He got up 
                                                      Amazed to see so many MPC. *
           He did not like them 
                                 And tore them to pieces
                                                      Calling to his mother. 
           Startled
                          She rushed to him
                                                         Handed him a parcel of candies
          Telling him it was from his father in the war zone. 
          Jubilant
                         He held tight his present, 
                                                        Mumbling his father's name ... 

          I have a question
                      To ask good American like Bernard Fall,  
         Who wrote The two Vietnam,  dicussing problem in both 
                                                                The North and  South.  
         Who died in Vietnamese soil
                             In the field trip  with the US marins in Quảng Trị. 
         I want to ask good Americans
                                                          Like the  Us missionary
         Who tried to learn about us
                              And to do good things in the name of Christ .
         You are people of wisdom, 
                              People of strength; 
                                                 But are you honest enough
         To admit the silly mistakes your fellow country men committed 
                                                 In the name of friendship !


         I for one cannot entertain
                             The prospect of your girls becoming prostitutes 
                                                       And boy pimps. 
       This land of ours count on you, 
       Men who are not Communists,
       Men who have convictions, 
       Men who have dignity, 
       Men do not allow wives to work for Americans 
       Men who bring salvation.


      I know you will feel hunilated. 
      I tell you
                     You must learn American 
      If you want to know
                                What the hell is going on  ...

      SAIGON, OCTOBER 22, 1968
    thephong

( from   WE PROMISE ONE ANOTHER  /  Don Luce,  John C. Schafer & Jacquelyn Chagnon  selected. 
           Published by The Indochina Moblile Education Project. Washington, D.C, 1971   -  p.  33 - 39 )

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*  Military Payment Certificates ( MPC) are issued to service-men as currency for military-operated facilities and services provided in Vietnam.  They are issued in lieu of  ' the green dollar' .   
   ( DON LUCE' S NOTE )