Hill 37

Dream of my dreams, I return to Hill 37. At last my tears flow. This time there are no bullets, no mortars, no rockets, no jets, and no people of whom to be afraid. Dai Loc village has grown from a few hundred or a thousand to 50 thousand souls. It takes just a few minutes to find the French bunker that was our operations center.

Tho tells me we cannot enter because it is a military base. I tell him we must visit; this is the purpose of my trip, to visit Hill 37. Can we please talk to the base commander? Tho says he will check and moves over to some locals who are obviously not military.

He returns, saying we must get some cigarettes to give the soldiers. He buys, I pay, one pack for each of us. He instructs me to give a cigarette whenever he does.

We walk up a muddy trail until we see a soldier, probably a private. Tho says something, the soldier nods and we advance. Tho, followed by me, offers a cigarette. The young man declines saying he does not smoke. He then brings us up, past the French bunker in which we worked in 1970, to a newly built concrete block house with an unoccupied lookout on top.

He introduces us to his boss, an NCO (that's non-commissioned officer for you civilians.) We offer him cigarettes which he also declines. On learning of my association with this place, they offer to prepare tea for us. Tho tells me this is good North Vietnamese tea. I grimace internally, after not drinking caffeinated tea or coffee for five years, but smile and nod enthusiastically. Tho acts as interpreter during our conversation.

Them: Do you have children?

Me: Yes, ages 30, 31 and 32. [The private has been holding a young child] How old is your child?

Them: He is nineteen months but he is the child of our commander.

Me: Before this building was built, where did you sleep?

Them: We slept in the bunker [our French bunker!] for six months.

Me: How old are you?

Them: 22 and 34, how old are you?

Me: 57

I step outside and snap some pics and look around. EVERYTHING IS GONE except my concrete bunker. Our motor transport are has been replaced by a hospital and an open lot where cows are grazing. The part of town just east of our bunker now has a gas station, of all things.  Tho will later explain that anything and everything American was destroyed, even if was valuable or useful.

I go into the bunker and snap some more pics, hoping I am aiming okay in the dark.

Returning to the soldiers, I say thanks to them and ask to take their pictures; we then head down the hill and take a final pic of my new friends waving at us.