Travel Stories - Vietnam

The route to "Dien Bien Phu" is as expected beautiful with high flanks on the north side "Hoang Lien" which the French called the "Tonkin" Alps. This area was long a "criminal" zone between Vietnam and China; it was unsuitable for the construction of rice fields and till far in the 19th century you had to watch out here for raids from robber gangs. Until recently, "opium" here was the crop that yielded the most. Now I see mountain peoples walking along the road and tearing scooters with wicker baskets full of chickens, ducks, piglets and even dogs inside. Along the way I see also numerous members of mountain tribes walking along the road - black tight skirts, purple tight tricots in different colors, a sash around the hip and a black dress with stitching or a colored scarf around their heads. Beautiful! It is only eleven o'clock when I arrive at the almost empty bus station of Dien Bien Phu (DBP), the name of the city that makes me shiver.

I walk through the large green iron gate and pay the female in the small ticket box that points to a building whose doors are wide open. Here is a large scale model of the hill that was a French fortress during the battle of the city of “Dien Bien Phu” in 1954. In the glass-boxes are weapons, clothing and pictures of the fight on the wall. There are also photos of old Veterans who are posted for the monument which should probably be at the top I’m going to see later. I see, between the trees next to the zigzag asphalt path that leads upwards, two large rows of barbed wire that I have just seen on the scale model. It seemed that there were three double-decked rows of barbed wire around the whole fence of the hill. There too, the first deep trenches and bunkers. It is still a bit of a hike to walk up the hill with this heat and up there is a course of a tank aimed at you under an ugly canopy (unfortunately). There are also some monuments in memory of the "Vietminh" cases. 

On the hill itself is a smaller hill (made hand-made) that really is the highest point. From here you have a beautiful view of the "bowl" in which the city lies. You can now see the replica trenches, the pieces of wood that act as a bridge, the stone paths, the gigantic crater and the surrounding mountains with the valley. You can see the growing city that’s already lying on the next hills and mountains as well - I think there was no house or road yet when the war raged here though. I walk past the many reconstructed trenches, even walk a bit where paths go semi-underground. I think of the craters that I saw in Verdun and other parts of northern France on the German positions – it’s got similarities. The hill continues and I walk around the whole piece, to see everything well. This seems to have been one of the last French strongholds during the bitterly battle for the town. Back at the entrance-building I walk along the fence to the place where a number of tanks, old iron from other war materials, mortars, howitzers and field guns stand. Unfortunately, it is behind a fence and haphazardly set up next to each other without any imagination. What would I like to see a piece of artillery on the hillside with a view of the valley and the city. After this site I visit the war-cemetery where hundreds of communists are located and then the (war) museum. On a small terrace with a sail as a canopy I order a fresh glass of pressed sugar cane so that I can go to my next site.

It is a day later when I go to the "Muong Thanh" bridge where there is a memorial and a piece of old French artillery. As you can see, the iron walkway has not changed much since here the (Colonial) French were in service. The center of the bridge, which is about 2 meters wide, is used by cyclists and scooters, while the two outer-sides (half a meter wide each) can be used by pedestrians. To my knowledge, this was the only bridge over the "Ron" river and was therefore strategically very important for the Vietminh but alsof or the defending French. This must also be the bridge that is illuminated at night in all colors of the rainbow. I read the plaquette and see how life just goes on – also in Vietnam. I walk over the bridge and come to a chaotic junction where some women sell fruit and vegetables under sails and where large outdoor plants and shrubs are sold. I find a narrow path that takes me to the French monument, some old artillery pieces and even the remains of a propeller plane.

I walk from the bridge and walk about 100 metres to a place that’s blocked with chicken wire. In the few square meter should was once the bunker which holded the Headquarters of “Dien Bien Phu” from the French. The replica bunker that we now see should be the place where French commander “Castries” was when the fight broke out around the city. There are some deep trenches around the bunker and I walk down the stone steep stairs into the bunker itself. Now I only see how big it is down here. It looks like a small bunker from above, but it’s got four rooms with a corridor. There are now some chairs and tables and there is a poster hanging on the wall. Of course it is a shame that "Castries" stuff is here but in the museum further up the road. It is empty and there is nothing to find in terms of information. They could indeed have made it a lot more fun and interesting, but this is Vietnam and I should be already happy that this is here so you’ve get an idea how it looked like. I walk around the bunker a few more times and try to get the picture in my mind where a "Vietminh" soldier was waving the communist flag on the roof of this bunker to celebrate the victory. The background is a large plain where the battle has raged. Now trees grow, there are houses and everything is full.

I walk over the "Muong Thanh" bridge and take a look at the market which is build just on the other side. At some stalls they sell meat and the women here are very busy with chasing away mosquito’s (and dogs); they use a stick with a plastic bag on top and wave it around. I see fish on the grill with pieces of bamboo and women probably have their last gossip while they are sitting in front of a sail with fruit and vegetables. A woman is shaving big bamboo poles and another is walking with a basket full of geese to sell them probably. Behind the market stalls on a corner there is a part of a building missing so it seems. The “block” is surrounded by barbed wire and I just see a small monument standing in the middle. This must have been the bunker of the French artillery commander "Pirot" who committed suicide when the first Vietminh bombs fell. He had claimed that the Vietnamese could never put heavy artillery in the mountains around the city because he was convinced that was too heavy – impossible. When the bombs fell he didn’t want to live anymore. I look through the chicken wire and there’s not much to see. A grassy pitch with some garbage. I walk further into the narrow street looking for a place where I can have a cup of coffee or whatever. At ease I let my thoughts go over what has happened here and take another sip.