Khe Sanh is a tiny village in Central Vietnam. It is located about 70 miles northeast of Hue, five miles from the border with Laos, and 15 miles from the former border separating South and North Vietnam. It is not much different from hundreds of such tiny villages scattered throughout Vietnam. However, for many Vietnamese and Americans, Khe Sanh is a sacred place. It is where they lost their innocence – soldiers lost their minds, body parts, comrades; wives, their husbands; children, their fathers; parents, their sons, ... It is where, 35 years ago, the longest siege and probably the most important battle of the Vietnam-American war took place.



Khe Sanh held a strategic position during the Vietnam War. It sat next to the Ho Chi Minh Trail, the North Vietnam’s main supply line to the South, and Highway 9, a key access route to the northern big cities of South Vietnam. Despite its important location, Khe Sanh had been a relatively quiet and remote post for years. However, in 1967 and early 1968 Khe Sanh became the site of the most important battle of the Vietnam War. North Vietnam moved supplies, artillery, tanks, and up to four divisions into the area. It was thought that the North Vietnamese wanted to turn Khe Sanh into a second Dien Bien Phu, the siege in which the French lost to the Vietnamese and eventually the Vietnam War. The Americans wanted to lure the North Vietnamese into Khe Sanh so that the Americans' superior firepower could be used to annihilate the North Vietnamese once for all. The Americans strengthened the defense of Khe Sanh. A large landing strip was built to allow the landing of large supply airplanes; long bunkers buried deep into the ground; and 6,000 marines were sent in to defend and to lure the North Vietnamese to Khe Sanh. Khe Sanh were further protected by heavy artillery, as far as the 7th Fleet from the Pacific ocean, helicopters, jets, and the fleet of B-52 bombers that could level the whole city in seconds. Khe Sanh was to be defended at all costs, as President Johnson then said, “I don’t want any damn Dien Bien Phu.”



In the early days of 1968, the siege of Khe Sanh began. The North Vietnamese overran the Lang Vei post near Khe Sanh and launched a few serious attacks on Khe Sanh. But most of the time, the North Vietnam fired heavy artillery at the base almost continuously. The Americans, in turn, called in wave after wave of artillery and air strikes. On a per-square mile basis, it was said that more bombs and artillery were dropped on Khe Sanh than at any other wars in the entire human history. The U.S. marines endured the siege and waited for the massive North Vietnam attack to come. Thus, for more than two months Khe Sanh was hell on earth. The battle of Khe Sanh, it was then thought, could determine the fate of the Vietnam War. Nuclear weapons were even discussed and considered for Khe Sanh. However, the much anticipated apocalyptic North Vietnamese attack never came, due to either the massive U.S. bombing or the North Vietnamese's intention of using Khe Sanh only as a diversion of their 1968 New Year's Tet offensive. After 75 days, the marines were ordered to abandon Khe Sanh. The siege took the lives of about 10,000 North Vietnamese, 6,000 Bru, 500 U.S. soldiers. About four times as many were injured. Of about 100 small villages around Khe Sanh, 99 were destroyed. The war totally liberated Khe Sanh from this earth.



I come to the Khe Sanh 35 year after the siege. From Hue, Highway 1 takes me north through painful memory lane. The 1968 Tet offensive severely damaged Hue, the former capital of Vietnam, and killed ten of thousands of Vietnamese and Americans. A few years after the Khe-Sanh siege, war totally leveled Quang Tri, the northernmost city of South Vietnam. Linking Hue and Quang Tri is the “Highway of Terror” where thousands of refugees fleeing Quang Tri were caught in the middle of the fighting and were killed. North of Dong Ha, I head east toward Khe Sanh. Highway 9 is now a small but smooth, asphalt-covered, two-lane road. The road curves around beautiful streams and desolated landscape. The once pockmarked hills of Khe Sanh, created by carpet-bombing and defoliant 35 years ago, are now covered with green carpets of tropical trees. Along the road, a few Bru farmers, the local tribe men, walk slowly, carrying firewood and farm produce. A roadside stand appears out of nowhere, offering jackfruits, pineapples, and old clothes. I drove slowly through the village of Khe Sanh. Just like Quang Tri and many towns in Vietnam, new houses rose from Khe Sanh's war ashes. In the old days, this village consisted of a few dozens of thatched huts. Today, the village seems to be doing well by Vietnamese standards. More than 200 houses line up along the two sides of Highway 9. Many are brick houses with red tiles. Antennas rise on top of many houses – a sure sign of prosperity. The village even offers two guesthouses to tourists. I stopped near one guesthouse to ask for direction to the old American base. The small road leading to the old base is well paved, and construction is underway to widen it. The old American base is now a small, fenced-in tourist attraction. Admission fee is 10,000 VN dong, about $0.75. The signs of the old American base and the fierce Khe Sanh battle 35 years ago are now completely erased. After the siege, the Americans bulldozed the landing strips and blew up the bunkers. The locals stripped the burned tanks, trucks, and helicopters for scrap metal. Time took care of the rest - fields of eucalyptus, coffee, pines, and other trees now stand in the place of the old base. A museum was built in the middle of the tourist area to commemorate the battle of Khe Sanh. A few American helicopters were brought in, and a bunker was recreated for special effect. 



I stood there in the middle of the old Khe Sanh base, bewildered. During the siege, an American general described the U.S. marine base, “It was a distressing sight, completely unpoliced, strewn with rubble duds and damaged equipment, and with the troops living a life more similar to rats than human beings.” Deep inside my mind, I half expected to see the barbwires, unexploded bombs, mines, and burned C130 and helicopters. Instead, there is only silence, except for the gentle west wind blowing through the trees. The red soil, blue sky, and green hills paint a surreal beautiful picture of Khe Sanh. An old Vietnamese tourist walks aimlessly around the place, probably an old North or South Vietnamese soldier trying to relive his ordeal here 35 years ago. I do not want to disturb his trance. Many Vietnamese believe that the souls of dead soldiers often wander around the place of their last battle. I thought I heard the whispers of the wandering souls of thousands of dead Vietnamese, Bru, and Americans soldiers among the gentle west wind. They should not feel lonely though, for thousands of Vietnamese, Chinese, Japanese, French, Champa, and Mongolian soldiers killed in previous wars had been wondering on this land for years. Khe Sanh is now just a small footnote in the long and war-ridden history of Vietnam. 



Hoang Nguyen, July 2003.

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Hoang Nguyen, a resident of Sacramento, California, visited Khe Sanh in July 2003.



Photo 1: The explosion of the U.S. ammunition dump at Khe Sanh by Robert Ellison. Ellison was later killed at Khe Sanh.

Photo 2: Khe Sanh in 1968 before the siege, taken from helicopter by an unknown GI.

Photo 3: The Bru farmers in July 2003 (by Ho D Duy).

Photo 4. The Khe Sanh museum, July 2003 (by Ho D Duy)