HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Citizen, 2012-03-08, Page 5THE CITIZEN, THURSDAY, MARCH 8, 2012. PAGE 5.
Ihave no trouble accepting the premise that
War is Hell. I’ve never fought in one and
impending Geezerhood pretty much
insures I’ll never have to. I thank my lucky
stars for that.
But if the fickle Fates decide otherwise and
the future finds me outfitted in helmet, army
boots and 20 kilograms worth of combat gear
on my back I have just one small request to
make.
If I have to fight in a war, please don’t make
me fight it underground.
I have recently returned from the Cu Chi
district of Vietnam, a swath of lush jungle
about 50 kilometres northwest of Ho Chi Minh
City, aka Saigon. Well, it’s lush jungle now,
but 40 or 50 years ago it was a blasted and
cratered moonscape of mud and shredded
timber where nothing moved or grew.
That would be a direct result of the 500,000
tons of explosives U.S. bombers had dropped
on the area. They were trying to root out the
Viet Cong who used the Cu Chi district as a
military stronghold. All those bombs didn’t
make much difference because the Viet Cong
were underground in an incredible network of
tunnels that ran for 150 miles over a 100
square mile area. But they weren’t merely
tunnels. The VC had constructed a maze, a
complex – a virtual city that was three storeys
deep in places. It incorporated sleeping
quarters, meeting rooms, a command post,
weapons storage, kitchens, emergency ORs –
even weapons factories.
Actually, ‘factory’ is gilding the lotus
somewhat. A ‘factory’ consisted of a few guys
in black pyjamas hunkered down in the dark
hammering and hack-sawing chunks of
bombshell debris.
As it happens, the soil in the Cu Chi area
readily lends itself to the construction of
tunnels. It’s a mixture of clay, sand and rock
that, on exposure to air, hardens like cement.
U.S. forces weren’t entirely unaware of the
presence of the tunnels but they had no clue
how extensive they were, and they weren’t
likely to find out by exploring them. The
tunnels were low and narrow, built to
accommodate the smaller bodies of
Vietnamese, not a GI’s strapping bulk. Then
too, the prospect of shimmying into a black
void infested with poisonous spiders,
venomous snakes, rats and armed enemy
soldiers, all in stifling jungle heat, can’t
have held much appeal. Accordingly, troops
finding a concealed tunnel entrance usually
elected to pump in poison gas or toss in a
few grenades, fill in the entrance and move
on.
So what was it like for the Viet Cong who
lived in and fought out of the Cu Chi tunnels?
Not good. Aside from being carpet bombed
almost daily, they suffered from a variety of
pestilences. A captured Viet Cong document
indicated that at any given time more than half
the underground troops were stricken with
malaria and that “100 per cent had intestinal
parasites of significance”.
Human beings aren’t designed to live in
tunnels. The air was bad, the diet was pathetic
and the denizens had to learn to live in a
permanent hunch in pretty much perpetual
darkness. Viet Cong who didn’t die outright
suffered from severe vitamin deficiency which
left them with enlarged heads, weak eyes, bad
hearts, swollen feet and severe respiratory
infections.
Sixteen thousand Viet Cong fought out of
the Cu Chi tunnels during what they call “The
American War”. Twelve thousand of them lie
buried in graves that carpet the outskirts of the
tunnels.
Do the math. Three-quarters of the troops
fighting for Ho Chi Minh in the Cu Chi tunnels
died there. Clearly the whole tunnel offensive
was a devastating defeat for the North
Vietnamese forces.
And yet…The official name of the nearest
city is Ho Chi Minh City, not Saigon. It was
changed in spirit the day that a Viet Cong
commando squad briefly but humiliatingly
took over the U.S. Embassy in Saigon during
the Tet Offensive of 1968. Those Viet Cong
operated out of the tunnels at Cu Chi.
The war is over and, incredibly, western
tourists are warmly welcomed in Vietnam. We
can even tour short sections of the tunnels at
Cu Chi – sections that have been purposely
enlarged to accommodate our western bodies.
Even at that it’s a cramped and uncomfortable
experience – unimaginable as a way of life.
As one sweaty, wide-eyed Canadian tourist
said, emerging into the sunlight from the Cu
Chi tunnels, “No wonder they won.”
(Comments: arblack43@shaw.ca)
Arthur
Black
Other Views Underground with the Viet Cong
In a story printed in last week’s issue of The
Citizen, Huron East Mayor Bernie
MacLellan said that ‘results’ from
economic development can be hard to quantify.
Not only are they hard to quantify, but it can
also be very difficult to define.
In the story Huron East Economic
Development Officer Jan Hawley came under
fire for her department’s productivity,
compared to its rising budget.
Despite MacLellan, and several other
councillors, being in her corner, these
comments must have come as a slap in the face
to Hawley, who by all accounts is as hard of a
worker as you’ll find anywhere.
Through my eyes, economic development
has always been split into two categories, one
of which is essential to the health and vitality
of any community and the other, which can be
a drain on the taxpayers.
Through various endeavours, Hawley has
drummed up interest in several properties in
Brussels, as well as the rest of Huron East.
People want to come to Brussels to start a new
business, which in my eyes, falls under the first
category of economic development.
This is the kind of economic development
that can directly help a community. Bringing a
new business to an area does many things. It
creates jobs, it adds more to the community’s
tax base and it helps to stimulate the local
economy. Those are just three of many
concrete ways a move like that can help a
community and justify economic development.
However, there is the flip side of economic
development that could sour anyone on the
term economic development.
Two years ago I wrote a story that stemmed
from a meeting of Huron County Council. A
planner in Goderich would be taking an eight-
day trip to England. The trip, which fell under
heritage study and professional development,
was to be paid for by a combination of the
Town of Goderich and Huron County. The
planner would not only have the trip paid for,
but she would be ‘on the clock’ while in
England and having her out-of-pocket
expenses paid for as well. In the two years
since, I have yet to see anything come back
from that trip, but perhaps I missed it.
Certainly economic development should be
judged on a case-by-case basis, so I can see
both sides of the argument. I can share in the
confidence one can have in a community (and
its officials) when a new business is opened
and I can also share in the confusion over how
a trip to England where no conference is
attended can help a small community over
3,500 miles away.
Many taxpayers in Huron County work at
jobs without such extravagant perks as a paid
trip to England, so being told these perks are
afforded to someone else with your money can
be a tough pill to swallow.
However, when it comes to Hawley, one only
needed to be at Cinnamon Jim’s on Saturday
afternoon to see the effect of her work on the
community. Eager University of Waterloo
students were talking to pillars of the
community about how to make Brussels better.
This has been the boots-on-the-ground
approach that has defined some economic
development departments, headed up by
officials who aren’t afraid to get their hands
dirty for the good of the community.
Drumming up interest in the community and
bringing money into the area delivers results
that taxpayers can see is truly economic
development and Hawley has been right there
through it all. She hasn’t needed a country
code to call the community she works for.
Arrested development
Before anyone writes in to point out the
typo in the above headline, it was
intentional. This weekend I was
pleasantly surprised and extremely happy to
have what I thought was going to be a
small celebration of my upcoming birthday
balloon into a huge surprise party courtesy of
my loving girlfriend Ashleigh and all my
friends.
Ironically, before I left on Friday, I had just
begun writing this column with a very
different spin; I was sure that, despite my plans
to entertain two groups of friends on two
separate occasions, my birthday would be one
of my lowered expectations being met.
For me, my birthday had become a day to
realize I need to renew my driver’s licence
plates and to mentally note that, if I were
filling out any documents that required it, I
would need to remember I’m 27 now.
The original headline read “Twenty-seven
and jaded by it” because, like many other
things in my life, I’d come to realize that the
fireworks were gone from it. The suspense and
shock were something for those younger than
me to experience.
I used to feel this way before, some four
years ago, and, just as I needed it most,
Ashleigh threw me a similar surprise shindig
then.
It just goes to show you that no matter how
streamlined and humdrum the rest of your life
gets, there is always a little shock and suspense
when you need it most, courtesy of those who
know you best.
So it came to pass this weekend that a
small gathering of four or five playing some
board games and card games quickly
turned into a house full of well-wishers
participating in every activity I could manage
to pull out of closets, media racks and
cupboards.
I can honestly say that there is no better way
to spend your birthday than surrounded by
your closest friends and loved ones playing a
simplified version of Family Feud or a very
convoluted card game.
Even the clean-up (and what a clean-up it
was, or still is, as it’s now spanned three days)
was not something that had me worried
or concerned, it allowed me to reminisce
about everything from the cake to the deep-
fried fest that had started the day to the
amazing gifts I had received from my
friends. (Apparently they believe me to be a
true journalist; I received books, coffee and
alcohol as gifts, which, paired with fast food,
make up the four major reporter food
groups).
Surprise parties like this always provide
opportunities for stories to be created and for
things to be experienced that you may not have
otherwise got to do.
I know for a fact that the next time I visit my
friend Adam, for example, he will tell me I’m
a week early for whatever I’m at.
Adam was the first guest to show up at my
door (beyond the four I had invited for a small
celebration myself) and, having been part
of a second group I had planned to celebrate
this weekend with, I was shocked to see him
there.
The exchange went something like this:
D: “Hey man, you’re a week early!”
A: “Well I was in town so I decided to stop
by.”
D: (At this point I stood there dumbfounded
for a second before inviting him in).
“Well it’s great you’re here, because I know
you’ll play some board games.”
And still, my mind didn’t hone in on what
had happened.
Another thing, that I’m sure my friends
won’t let me live down, was the fact that I was
actually worried about the fact that no one had
responded to some of the preliminary invites I
had sent out for a second shindig.
I was worried I had put my foot in my mouth
somewhere along the line when, in reality,
everyone was just playing it cool so I wouldn’t
find out about the surprise party. The relief I
felt was palpable once I put two and two
together.
Even Shawn Loughlin, editor of The Citizen
and a very welcome guest at the event, played
his part in making sure I had taken the time off
to celebrate the event.
Surprisingly I, a person who sees challenges
where none exist and plots where nothing has
been planned, didn’t see anything to tip me off
to this fact and I’m glad, for once, that the
truth was kept from me.
Events like this always lighten the load that
is life for me, sometimes for a short period
and sometimes for a longer one. They make
those things you do every day; the dishes,
taking out the trash (in its now-clear bag),
doing laundry and shovelling off the deck to be
a little less of a chore and more of a time to
look back and ahead and marvel on the
surprises of yesterday and hope for those of
tomorrow.
They allow me to look forward loving the
idea that surprises are always right around the
corner and, whether they are good or bad, they
will always keep my life interesting.
Whether it’s discovering that a pet of a
family member I’m taking care of has found
some unique way to defile a house or finding
$10 in a jacket I haven’t worn since last winter
(which I didn’t have to pull out until
yesterday’s season-low of -12), sometimes it’s
the surprises in life that make you want to keep
going until you can find the next one.
Shawn
Loughlin
Shawn’s Sense
Denny
Scott
Denny’s Den
Shock and awww prove me wrong